Terrance Armstard/ULM Photo Serv
Dr. Terry L. Jones
I did some mental cyphering when bored one day and concluded that I taught approximately 12,000 students during my twenty-five-year career at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. Even after all these years, some still stand out in my mind, although perhaps not for the best of reasons.
One semester, I had a personable young man who was an A student and liked to stop by my office occasionally to chat. One day, we were talking and out of the blue he said that he was the leader of a gang in south Louisiana and that his cousin led the rival gang.
I wasn’t sure what to say, but he went on discussing the gang life and how things were escalating between him and his cousin. He hated it because they were family, but there had been some drive-by shootings and deaths.
From the way the conversation was going, I became convinced that my likeable student had killed someone and was about to unburden himself with a confession. My mind raced as I listened to him. What was I to do? Should I call the police afterwards, or was a student-professor conversation privileged?
Then, just as suddenly, he changed the subject, talked about some other things, shook my hand with a smile, and left. I later looked up his hometown and found that gang violence was, indeed, a real issue there. He never again brought up his gang, and I’m still not sure whether or not he was serious or just yanking my chain.
On two occasions, I did have to call the police. The first time occurred late one afternoon when there was a knock on my office door in Brown Hall. I looked up, and there stood a disheveled-looking man smiling at me.
“Dr. Terry, Dr. Terry! Do you remember me? I had you for history a number of years ago.”
No, I didn’t remember him, but asked how he was. He proceeded to tell me that he had been in a bad car wreck and was still in a lot of pain. “I can’t get in touch with my doctor and was wondering if you could write me a prescription for some pain medication.” I realized then that he was a drug addict who had come onto campus thinking that a Ph.D. could write a prescription just like an M.D.
I told him that, no, I couldn’t do that and he left satisfied with my explanation as to why. After quickly locking the door, I called campus police and gave them his description. A little while later, they called back and said he had been located and escorted off campus.
The other time I contacted the police happened on the very first day of class one fall semester. I started by introducing my graduate assistant (GA), explaining that he was to be considered a co-teacher, and then began going over the syllabus. About twenty minutes later, bedlam erupted on the top tier of the stadium seating.
A coed was standing up and screaming and cussing my graduate assistant, yelling at him to stay away from her, not to touch her, and something about her phone. Needless to say, the one hundred plus other students were stunned. I had to yell to be heard and repeatedly told her to sit down, but she just ignored me. I finally gave up and told my GA to go get the police.
When he left, the woman calmed down, and I finished the class. On dismissing, I told her to come down because we needed to talk. She did and after some discussion, I realized what had happened. The girl had come in late, after I had introduced my GA and instructed the students not to be using their cell phones in class.
She had pulled out her phone while I was going over the syllabus and when my GA told her to put it away, she bowed up and got defiant. Things quickly went downhill. My GA thought she was blatantly breaking the rule I had just gone over, while she thought he was just some random student getting up in her business.
I decided no further action needed be taken but made sure she knew that she was to obey the GA in class. It was not until everyone had left that my GA finally arrived with the police.
The one student interaction that had the biggest impact on my life occurred on test day one warm spring afternoon. I was walking around the classroom monitoring the 125 students and answering the occasional question when a female student motioned for me.
I walked over and leaned down to hear her question. Without making eye contact, she quietly whispered, “Dr. Jones, have you done something with your hair? It’s so hot.”
Time stood still as I tried to figure out where this was going.
“I’m sorry. What?”
She looked up at me and said, “Your hair. Have you done something with your hair?”
I had that deer in the headlight look when the girl sitting behind her started fanning herself and said, “Yeah, it’s awfully hot in here.”
The AIR, Dr. Jones, can you do something with the air conditioning because it’s hot in here.
I soon obtained my first pair of hearing aids.
Dr. Terry L. Jones is a professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. An autographed copy of “Louisiana Pastimes,” a collection of the author’s stories, costs $25. Contact him at tljones505@gmail.com
