What Grows in Your Garden Read online

  “Now you are stepping out of the hothouse in which you have grown up. You will be venturing into a much larger world—one that will offer you your own garden, where you may grow whatever you wish. I will follow your progress because what you grow in your garden will reflect upon me and all the others who have come before me to shape you as a scholar. And when you come back to visit, I will have just one question for you. What grows in your garden, Doctor Chomsky?”

  Sarah clamped her hand over her mouth to hide the trembling of her lips, but she could not disguise the film of tears that made her eyes glisten in the late afternoon light.

  Realizing that she was too emotional to comment, Doctor Kaplan continued with some practical advice. “What you do in these years will set the course of your career. You must make friends but avoid cliques and controversies. Don’t give in to the temptation to take on too much responsibility to impress those making your tenure decision. Keep in mind your contractual responsibilities. They include teaching, advising, serving on a faculty committee of some sort, and publishing. Get those jobs done and don’t take on anything else.”

  “That sounds like more than enough.”

  “It will be, but there will also be offers that will tempt you. As a young assistant professor, I saw an ad for scholars to host a traveling Smithsonian exhibit of the most important documents of American history. I thought it would make me stand out among my peers. And it did that. I was the only one who almost suffered a nervous breakdown before the end of my first teaching year.”

  She giggled on cue. “Was the exhibit a success?”

  “It was, and I impressed the board of directors. But I missed so much.”

  “Such as?”

  “The real measure of a professor’s success lies in the sheer joy of teaching. I learned to do all the things the school required but didn’t discover the joy in them until many years later. My hope for you is that you will learn to love the job first. Then you can learn how to do it.”

  Sarah returned to the house with that thought repeating itself in her head: “Learn to love the job first.” She was still pondering the full meaning of Doctor Kaplan’s advice when her father emerged from his study and beckoned her to join him.

  “Uh-oh,” she thought. “Here it comes. Mother has already gotten to him.”

  The rabbi confirmed that suspicion. “Your mother tells me you have a job offer and have accepted it, even though it is too far away from here.”

  “I know. She was hoping I’d get a job in New York City and remain here until she could find me a ‘nice Jewish boy’ to marry. But that will not happen, father. I have to go where the jobs are.”

  “I have just a few questions for you, neshama.4 When this life is over and it is time for your interview with HaShem,5 how will you sum up your life? Will you have kept the commandments? And how will you have used the talents HaShem has given you?”

  “I will keep the commandments, including the fifth. I will honor you, my mother and my father, by using the advantages you have given me to become the best teacher and role model I can be. And I will use all the talents HaShem has given me to benefit my students. Will that be enough?”

  “If this job offers you the opportunity to do all of that, then you should accept it. Go with my blessing, neshama.”

  That was the beginning.

  Chapter Two

  Arrival

  Thursday, August 14, 2008

  “Me-ow,” came a tiny voice from the passenger seat. Sarah glanced over to see that her half-grown kitten was awake at last. He stretched full-length and then sat up, wrinkling his tiny nose in a miniature sneeze. His glossy black fur turned him into a smooth black ball, interrupted only by his powder blue chest harness, two green eyes and a bright pink mouth. His soft-sided traveling carry-pod was large enough to allow him some room to move around, although not enough to let him see out of the car.

  “Good morning, sleepy-head. It’s about time you woke up. I’ve been getting bored with no one to talk to.”

  “Meeee-ow.”

  Sarah needed a distraction. Traffic was light and the rain soft but steady. The hum of tires on wet pavement and the slow, steady thump of the windshield wipers had at one point almost lulled her to sleep. She snapped on the car’s radio, hoping for an interesting talk show but finding only country music. Now, at least, she could carry on a one-sided conversation with Elijah the Cat.

  “Are you getting hungry? It’s almost lunch time, but I’m hoping we’ll be out of this rain shower before we have to stop. I’m getting a complex about the weather. It was raining like this the day I got the job offer, and now again on the day we arrive in our new home town. I hope it’s not trying to send me a message.

  “I’m thinking of looking for a McDonald’s or a Wendy’s. No, don’t tell me my mother would not approve. We don’t have to have to keep kosher when we're eating out. I figure you’ll like the chicken nuggets, and—if you’re good—I might share my French fries with you. We can even split an ice cream cone. I won’t tell anyone I let you lick it.”

  She smiled to herself and dangled her fingers through the openings of the carry-pod to scratch a tiny ear.

  “You will like it in Birch Falls, I promise. If the pictures of the apartment the school has rented for us are accurate, there’s a screened-in porch where you can sit and watch the birds. Yes, that means you will be an indoor cat. Get used to it. I don’t want you getting lost or eaten by a black bear in those mountains.”

  Elijah seemed to roll his eyes. Then he licked his water dispenser a few times and yawned again, settling back into the comfort of the soft baby blanket she had provided as his bed.

  “You have this traveling thing mastered, don’t you?” Sarah commented. “Well, let’s see how you do at a rest stop.” She took the next exit and headed for the nearby Wendy’s. She placed their order at a drive-through window and then parked at the back of the lot. Not taking any chances, she snapped a leash to Elijah’s harness before she let him out of his carrier. Once out of the car, he headed straight for the corner flower bed, where he scratched around a bit and then squatted in obvious relief.

  “I hope the restaurant manager doesn’t see this,” Sarah whispered. But someone was sure to notice. A little boy appeared out of nowhere, staring at this strange sight.

  “Is that a cat, lady?” he asked. “I didn’t know cats could walk on a leash.”

  “He learned when he was too young to know better,” she replied with a laugh.

  “Is he going to eat in the restaurant?”

  “Uh, no, we have lunch waiting in the car. Say goodbye, Elijah.”

  Back in the car, she crumbled the cat’s chicken nuggets and served them in a little flat plastic bowl with a few bits of French fries. Next to it, she spooned out some of her vanilla Frosty into another bowl. Elijah was so interested in the food he didn’t even notice when she unsnapped his harness and zipped him and his lunch back into the carrier.

  When Sarah finished her own hamburger and fries, she dumped the trash into a nearby bin, and then they were back on the road again, headed for a new life in a new town. “You make a great traveling companion,” she told him. “Next stop is a pet-friendly motel, where you can have the run of the whole room.”

  The Hampton Inn welcomed them to Birch Falls, and the desk clerk provided Sarah with a hang-tag for her door to warn the housecleaning staff that there was a cat inside. “Do not open this door without permission from the occupant,” it cautioned. “Violators will be scratched.”

  Elijah explored every inch of their room, staying close to the walls before moving out into the center. As Sarah watched him, the historian in her compared his explorations to an ancient Greek sailor navigating from island to island by keeping the coastline in view. “I'll use you in a lecture someday,” she told him. Then she curled up in the room’s only armchair and began studying the local information magazine the desk offered. She even studied the ads because they were alerting her to places she might want
to visit. When Elijah announced that he was hungry again, she fixed his cat food and set up his sandbox in the bathroom. Closing the bathroom door and affixing the warning tag on her hallway entrance, she set out to find her own dinner. The desk clerk suggested the diner next door, and she was soon feasting on homemade potpie and chatting with the waitress about local attractions. Then it was off to bed for the two weary travelers.

  “No, I haven’t unpacked your cat bed,” she told Elijah. “You get to sleep in the big bed with me tonight.” He soon snuggled into her armpit, and his purring lulled them both to sleep.

  In the morning, Elijah settled for a fresh bowl of kibble while Sarah helped herself to the free breakfast buffet in the lobby. The big moment had come. It was time to head for her new world. She offered the cat a ball and a catnip mouse to entertain himself while she explored her new college.

  As Sarah approached the main driveway leading into the campus, she realized her heart was racing. She swallowed hard and blinked her eyes. She hadn’t expected such an emotional rush to hit her, but a small voice in her head spoke of her hopes and fears. “This is it. This is what you have been working toward all these past eight years in grad school. You have received what you asked for. Now, can you handle it? Can you let it welcome you? Will you be able to do what they ask of you? And will you find the joy of it?”

  An empty visitor parking space in front of the administration building opened just as she arrived, and she took it as an encouraging sign. Once in the door, she recognized the entrance to the dean’s office. And just inside that door was a familiar face.

  “Mrs. Wright? I’m Sarah Chomsky—the new hire for the history department?” She spoke with hesitation, not at all sure that the bustling, white-haired secretary would remember her. She need not have worried.

  “Sarah! How delightful to welcome you back to campus! I’ve been expecting you. And please call me Martha. How was your trip? Safe driving, I hope? Did you find the motel where we made your reservation?” The questions came faster than Sarah could answer them, but she basked in the greeting's warmth.

  “I hope it’s all right that I have come in a day early. The orientation schedule said to arrive on Monday, but I’m to get the keys to my new apartment tomorrow, and the moving van will arrive on Monday morning. If it’s not too much trouble, I thought perhaps I could get a head start on checking into the campus. If you’re busy, I can look around on my own.” Sarah felt the words tumbling out of her, propelled by her nervousness.

  “It’s no trouble at all, my dear. Relax. Sit a spell. Could I get you a cup of coffee? Water?”

  “No coffee, thanks, I’m already too wound up with excitement. Water might help, though.”

  Martha Wright was smiling as she reached for the water pitcher on the credenza behind her. This might be Sarah’s first job, but she was only the most recent of the dozens of new professors whom Martha had welcomed to the campus.

  “This is a wonderful time for you to arrive. It’s the last day before the faculty and staff come back to work. Nobody’s here but those of us whose contracts cover all twelve months. Everyone else is off enjoying a final day of freedom. Dean Henderson is even playing a last round of golf with some board members.”

  “What about that big orange cat of his? Is he around, or does he get the day off, too?”

  “You mean Marmalade? That cat is always here—usually asleep in a sun puddle. Except for him, we have the campus to ourselves, and I can take care of all the nitty-gritty details the others will handle on Monday. You can have Monday to get your living arrangements set up before the new faculty dinner with the president Monday evening. That’s a command performance, I must tell you.”

  “You are very kind, if you’re sure I’m not interrupting.”

  “It’s no problem because we already have everything organized for Monday.” She turned to another shelf and pulled a folder out of the pile. “These are your three essentials. First is your faculty handbook. I won’t tell you to memorize it, because you’d go home and try to do that. But you need to read through it so you understand what our general policies are. I recommend keeping it on your desk at all times so you’re prepared when a problem arises. The most useful page is the list of management phone numbers. I keep a photocopy of that information in a plastic cover right under my phone.”

  “I appreciate knowing the rules exist in written format,” Sarah said. “My last substituting job was at a school where the faculty had to learn the rules the hard way—by making the mistake first and then being told what they should have done.”

  “We try to be kinder than that. Here’s another must-have item—your Faculty Identification Card. You’ll see that we used the picture we asked you to send us earlier this summer. If you hate it, we can make a new one, but yours is lovely. Keep it with you this first year. It gets you through locked gates, lets you check out materials at the library, pays for your lunch in the Faculty Club or the Grub Hub Coffee Shop, and authenticates work orders for things you need to have fixed. Once the staff members get to know you—and they will—they may not even ask you for it, but for now, it’s essential.”

  Sarah was relaxing more with every detail. “It sounds like a ‘Get-Out-of-Jail-Free’ card.”

  “Right. And this is your Faculty Parking Lot hang tag. We used to have windshield stickers, but they didn’t work well when folks bought a new car or had to borrow a loaner while theirs was in the shop. The hang tag identifies you rather than your car, and the guard at the gate will wave you through without a stop. The faculty lot is not very handy for buildings like this one, but it is close to Bailey Hall where you will teach and have your office. I’ll show you where it is as we walk around. Questions so far?”

  “I parked in a visitor’s slot out front. Should I move my car?”

  “Ah, not today. There won’t be that many visitors. Any other problems?”

  “Not yet. So far, so good.”

  “Wonderful. So why don’t we go for a walk and see what else we can find for you.” She led the way out onto a manicured garden area. “I always see this as the heart of the campus, although it’s not the center by any means. We call it the Cloister Garden.”

  “Is it true that the college used to be a nunnery?”

  “It did, indeed. The administration building once contained the only public area of the convent, the one room where families could come to visit or leave small gifts. The abbess’s residence is now the Faculty Club, where full-service lunches are available and formal meetings take place. That’s where you will have dinner Monday evening.

  “The long hall there on your left was the nuns’ refectory, where they took all their communal meals. The original kitchen which we have updated more than once is out of sight on the other side of the building. It serves both our coffee shop and the Faculty Club. There’s also a kitchen garden back there, along with the remains of the nuns' herbarium. The refectory itself now houses the coffee shop, our recreational center, and our bookstore.

  “The nuns’ church lay across the Cloister. After the nunnery closed, the bishop desanctified the structure and closed it until the state tore the altar end down. They then remodeled the nave into an auditorium and added a stage and dressing rooms for theater productions. And to complete the fourth side of the square, the nuns’ residence became our library.”

  “When you explain the layout that way, I can still see the ghostly outline of the convent.”

  “If you’re interested in the nunnery's early history, Kevin Chalmers is the man to talk to. He’s the medievalist in your history department. The land has experienced many stages of development. After the Civil War, so many men had died that society was out of balance, as I’m sure you know better than I. Thousands of children had lost their parents, and wives and mothers floundered with no men in the family to help support them. Our cloistered nuns could no longer ignore the surrounding problems. They began taking in abandoned children and other charity cases and built an orphanage which is now o
ur fine arts building. Next, they added a nursing home for destitute women. It became our Math and Science building.”

  “But how did it go from what it was to what it has become? What happened?”

  “The twentieth century happened. The nuns grew old and feeble, and there were fewer and fewer young women interested in the cloistered lifestyle. As cities and towns grew, urban areas began offering their own social services—not just orphanages and rest homes, but hospitals and boarding schools. What had once been a self-sustaining monastic community became an enormous drag on the resources of the Catholic Church.

  “The state’s higher educational institutions also had no room to expand in a rapidly growing capital city. Farmers clamored for a veterinary school, but the city’s population was not willing to make room for a center that would add more cows and horses to the urban mix. The solution served the interests of both church and state. The Convent of Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy proved to be the ideal location for a school to train veterinarians. It already had a barn and pasture available. Those features are still here, although they are well hidden behind the rest of our academic buildings. You’ll discover them one day.

  “The church sold all of its land holdings around the perimeter of the nunnery to the state in the early 1920s. Along the frontage road, the state built a public park. Then behind it, they erected the building that would hold the vet school—classrooms, doctors’ offices, and treatment centers. The barn and pasture needed only a bit of maintenance work. The vet school gained a good reputation, and the nuns were holding on. But with the Crash of 1929 and the onset of the Great Depression, the nuns lost what little private support they had had. They had no choice but to close the nunnery. The church hierarchy sold the entire property to the state. Some buildings were in disrepair, but after Roosevelt established his Public Works Administration in 1933, remodeling began. In time, those changes provided the space and buildings the state needed to turn the property into an academic enclave. Voila! Smoky Mountain University.”