ABOUT 15 years ago, I had a friend who ran a jamming studio in Subang Jaya, a stone’s throw from where I used to teach. Upon arriving for a band rehearsal session, I asked him: “Did a bunch of college students call you to ask about jamming and probably renting some equipment for an event?” He answered: “Yeah, they did, and they said their lecturer comes here to jam… but I’ve never had old guys jam here before.”

I chuckled as I replied: “I’m the lecturer! I recommended your studio to them.” We both snickered, like at the end of every 1980s Transformers cartoon episode.

This encapsulates the still-common public perception of what a lecturer looks like or who they tend to be: ancient, boring, bookish, socially awkward. A disclaimer: I am by no means representative of all lecturers at universities, whether public or private, and I am sure there are far more dashing and gorgeous younger ones out there, overachievers who have accomplished more than I ever will several lifetimes over.

Educators are often regarded in high esteem, and rightly so. Our nation’s first generation of political and community leaders were teachers, and intellectual acumen was their weapon against the tyranny of colonialists. Fast-forward to the present, when political and community leaders are corporate figures or career politicians. Whether this is a devolution is up for debate.

The socioeconomic and political environment now is so different from pre-Merdeka, pre-Malaysia times that it isn’t fair to make such a simplistic comparison. But what I find fascinating is how educators’ esteemed status is also an Achilles heel in turning thought into action. Education – higher education, notably – is a major industry, hence, “educator” is a loaded word, burdened by the repute of its past and in danger of being treated by the people in suits upstairs as dispensable labour if not governed by the ethics that regulate such noble professions.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say, and yes, I am that apple, being the eldest child of professors (in the sciences). Needless to say, this was the path of least resistance, to fall in line on paper. As precocious as I was as a student, academia wasn’t really my interest. Curiosity was my “vice”, and little did I know that it would not only lead me into the education sector, but also, give me an intellectual bearing to keep my sanity in check in an otherwise senseless and absurd world.

I often joke with my students that the best educators aren’t necessarily the ones who shone brightest in school, just like how the best detectives in your favourite series often live a life in the grey area between good and bad. It takes one to know one. Who’d want to have a nerd as their lecturer, especially in the humanities?

A lot of the ethics and principles I hold dear as an artist are applicable when dispensing my duties as an educator, and this gives me an added advantage: I don’t see being a lecturer as a “job”. I don’t just take off my lecturer hat, go home, munch on junk food and tune out, mindlessly watching Netflix/Astro/YouTube or whatever. I don’t like yielding to the position that highlights the generational gap by retorting: “I don’t understand kids nowadays!” Your job as an educator is precisely to learn and understand. Perhaps, if one is too studious (probably in the same manner they earned their gazillionth A+ grade) and lacks the street smarts, there is a tendency to fall into a perpetually perplexed mode, playing the seniority card as an easy way out of attempting empathy.

I am happy to report that my generation of educators isn’t the straight-laced, pointy-headed variety. Generation X did not grow up bored. We are the generation that experienced an internet-less world, and then witnessed its birth and gradual takeover of the globe. We are the generation to whom daytime television meant TV Pendidikan before “real” TV started around 4.30pm (after Negaraku). Sorry, I digress.

Education is the final frontier, but do you see the profession being lionised in the mass media? Educators are the lifeblood of universities and schools, but seldom appear at the forefront of promotional materials; it’s the “customers” who are prominent – students sitting on bright-green grass (an imported image and stock idea from the continental West; I’ve yet to see any of my students doing this in the tropics) and pointing at things.

But please carry on with it, as we’d rather stay out of the limelight, and let us do our job. Don’t glamorise us and airbrush our stale, learned faces. The real evils are marketing and advertising – necessary evils in our consumerist world. It’s OK, though. Debunking this is my job, and also my vocation outside of the classroom. The more the myth of the ancient, boring, bookish, socially awkward lecturer persists, the greater the preservation of this noble occupation. Our mojo is in being unassuming.

We are among you, citizens. Rejoice. – July 17, 2020.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.