I was in college in the 80s, and it was happening then. Fortunately, the President of school I went to was a conservative Democrat (remember those?), and while I don't think he was especially thrilled about some of the stuff going on on campus, he at least understood that freedom requires tolerance. And there was a good deal of diversity of opinion back then. Debates between liberal and conservative students raged in the letters section of the student newspaper. (I imagine now, if there are still debates, they're between the maoists and the trotskiites.)

My son is an RA at a large, northeastern university (not Northeastern). There was a meeting a little while back about new accomodations for transgendered students. Another RA asked "How many people are we actually talking about?". Poor fellow got in big trouble for that, almost losing his job. I asked my son what would happen if an RA expressed the opinion that gay marriage is unwise. "Automatic termination".

Remember, dissent is patriotic only when you dissent against a Republican.

Dissent is treasonous if it is against a progressive. You will be assigned to a re-education camp, or failing that, a gulag.

I've mentioned this before, but I work at a large public university in the south. I try not to say anything to anyone. And if I have to, I stick to the facts.

The next rung up the ladder in terms of promotions will require a certain amount of politicking. I have the bad habit telling things the way I see them without sugar coating them. Which means I have no interest in making that next step up.

Not to mention wearing a suit and tie every day to work will drive me nuts. I guess I'd get used to them, but still.

Or as several defense lawyers have told me don't say nothing. Now, they were talking about the police, but I think it is still good advice in other aspects of my life.

Mine actually happened in high school, in the mid-1970s. The English professor, who was very much a Luddite-leftist and already didn't like me because I was in the school's computer club, taught a section on Thoreau. He projected Walden Pond as an idyllic life mainly because it was, in his view, technology-free. The lifestyle that the instructor projected onto this and advocated was ridiculous: let's all be hippies running around in the woods and eating berries wherever we find them. No need to build shelter or engage in agriculture or any of that stuff. And he several times pointed me out as an example to the rest of the class of how not to live. (Back in the '60s and '70s, leftists hated computers and tried desperately to get them banned. There were several high-profile incidents of leftists trying to attack or sabotage computers at universities.)

So when our term paper assignment came around, I re-read Walden very closely. And I didn't get the same themes out of it that the instructor got. What I got out of it was a man living a life of self-responsibility, free (more or less) from intrusion by government or "polite" society. Yeah, his lifestyle out there was fairly primitive, but I saw that as an artifact rather than his goal as such. So I put all this in the paper, and in some places I disagreed rather sharply (and maybe a bit more personally than really necessary) with the professor.

When the papers were handed back in the last week of the term, I didn't get mine back. The professor told me to remain after class. I did. After everyone else had left, he accosted me. He was visibly angry. He held my paper in his hands and his hands were shaking. He told me that my opinions were unacceptable and that he would not grade my paper. Without correcting it, he write a big fat zero on the paper and shoved it at me and told me to get out of his classroom and not come back. Since the term paper was 70% of the final grade, the grade of zero on it meant that I failed the class. There was absolutely nothing I could do. There was no one to complain to since he was the head of the English department.

I got in all kinds of trouble with the school. They were going to suspend me. I maanged to talk my way out of that, but I had to take the class over. Fortunately, I was able to get a different instructor, and the other instructor didn't assign any Thoreau, mercifully. I passed the class with a B. I had to double up on some other classes to make sure that I finished the year with enough credits to advance. I never spoke to that professor again. Someday he will be dead, and when that day comes, I'm going to go find his grave so I can spit on it.

Cousin Dave: that truly is horrible. I'm angry just reading it.

IMHO it would be way too nice to spit on that Stalinist's grave. If I were you I'd START by spitting, followed by some joyous disco dancing. I'd also make sure both of my bladders are quite full before arriving, if you get my drift.

Anyway, thanks for sharing your story.

Someday he will be dead, and when that day comes, I'm going to go find his grave so I can spit on it. -- Cousin Dave at November 15, 2013 11:42 AM

I'm with Steve -- just spitting? BTW there is a reason for salting the earth. ;-)

But as far as Amy's question: luckily I have never been sucked into an organization the puts PC over real speech.