If you’ve been paying attention to this newsletter since its inception, you’ll notice I’m prone to vent my spleen about the seedier sides of journalism I’ve experienced. But now I can truly say the cultural vampires of arts and entertainment are like frolicking children when compared to the parasitic world of academia.
In the fall of 2016, I approached the then-head of a department at New York University
about assembling an oral history on American Hardcore Punk culled from the hours of interviews I’d conducted for my books. My pitch was if the department could help digitize and compile the interviews into subjects (politics, straight edge, regions, etc) they could keep them in their library for future reference. Along with myself, I brought along someone into this proposed project that I did not know that well. He was vouched for by colleagues and had worked at established record labels and merch companies, so I figured he was at least trustworthy enough to be a part of it.
After a few meetings with the department head as well as a professor that worked in the same department, the idea morphed into being an actual class on American Hardcore Punk taught by the above-mentioned professor with my colleague and me as co-teachers. Drafts of a syllabus were written by me with a suggestion thrown in here or there by the person I brought along. Eventually, both my writing, the professors' writing, and whatever my partner added in were shaped into a syllabus that fit a conventional format. The class began in the fall of 2017.
In regard to how I felt the class went, I’ll just say: the less said, the better. From a personal standpoint, it was clear teaching a class was not for me. Neither was seeing the idea I brought to the department being taught by a professor who had no background in Hardcore Punk. When the class was over at the end of the year, I chalked it up as a learning experience. It was clear academia was not for me. Neither was being the supplier of information to some academic strawman; especially when it’s a subject I’ve lived and researched for the majority of my life. In the Spring of 2018, there was a presentation about the class given in Indiana that included all three of us, but after that, I never heard from the professor again with periodic correspondence from the other co-teacher. But those were mostly to ask me for contacts he wanted for his podcast.
Last month, a google alert told me my name had turned up on the NYU website. It seemed my books were being used as reading material for a class. Surprisingly, it was a class on American Hardcore Punk being taught by the same professor who led the class a few years back. I did not read through the syllabus at first but just sent an email saying I would be up for being a guest speaker if he needed me. Almost a month passed by with no response. As I did further research, I noticed the class was taught in the fall semester of last year, which made me even more confused. Why didn’t he reach out to tell me the class was back on again?
It was then I decided to check out the syllabus online and realized why he never wrote me back. The overview for the class was word-for-word from the original draft I wrote as were many of the descriptions of class assignments. Since I did not get a response from the professor, I sent an email to the new head of his department that included the portions from my first draft lined up against what he had in his syllabus. The reply said my concerns were noted and they would have a meeting with the dean. The email also noted that the person I brought along with me the first time around has been co-teaching the class both semesters. Why was this person asked back and not me? Why couldn’t either of them send an email asking if it was OK to teach a class we assembled as a team effort? It seemed underhanded and disrespectful.
Sometime after getting the email from the department head, I finally received a reply from the professor. His reason for not telling me about the class being back on was due to him sensing I did not want to continue with the class. He also used the reason I did not communicate with him after the class was over. How any of these explanations excused him from sending an email to tell me of the class’ revamping is lost on me. But the person I feel most betrayed by is the one I brought along with me to co-teach. Especially when he had the time to text well wishes to me when I was in the hospital earlier this year, but not tell me he was co-teaching the class that we brought to NYU together. That person will not return my phone calls or emails at all.
After a supposed meeting with the dean (No name was given), the head of the department told me syllabi are not proprietary material, especially since I was on the NYU payroll while the class was going on. If this is the case, why does the professor have the syllabus copyrighted on the website for the class? Shouldn’t it be copyrighted to all three people who put it together?
When I asked for compensation for my work being used, I was turned down and told there was nothing in the departments’ budget to give me. When I asked if the writing I pointed out could just be removed from the syllabus, I did not get a clear yes or no. Instead, I was asked if I wanted more credit on the syllabus. More credit? I got no credit for it! (Neither does the co-teacher by the way)
All I want is for my writing to be removed from the syllabus and replaced with actual writing penned by either the professor or his cohort. If they want to make this their own project, they should do the heavy lifting and not rely on what was leftover from when it was a three-person job. I do not want to take credit for what the class became once it hit the lecture hall. I am currently not working due to both multiple sclerosis and bladder cancer surgery that occurred in the summer. To think these two are reaping the benefits of a concept I came up with on my own and presented to NYU angers me. The severe lack of integrity on the professors’ part, the treachery of someone I considered a friend, and the unconcerned attitudes of the higher-ups at one of the countries’ most respected universities are shocking to me. It makes chasing down someone in the accounting department at Vice seem like a tropical vacation.
The irony of a class extolling Hardcore Punks’ virtues of fair-mindedness, tolerance, and community currently being taught by two people who more or less stole an idea and did their best to shut out the main source of its existence is obvious to me. But I suppose it’s not to everyone involved in the current version of the course, including the complacent staff of the department and the students being taught about this idealistic scene by two people out to fatten their CVs by any means necessary.
Emails and the elements of the first draft line-up against screen grabs of what is currently on the class website can be provided upon request.
Imagine writing this sentence and thinking anyone gives a shit that you got boned.
“In the fall of 2016, I approached the then-head of a department at New York University
about assembling an oral history on American Hardcore Punk”