Teaching Amidst the Neon Palm Trees
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In August 1998, during the week before classes began, I attended the new faculty orientation at the Community College of Southern Nevada (CCSN). It was a day-long event that consisted primarily of boring talks by various college administrators. We learned about the demographics of the institution, the financial situation, the college facilities, academic policies and regulations, and a host of other very dry topics. By late afternoon, I was struggling to stay awake.
The very last item on our schedule was a visit to the Gaming Department. “Gaming” – a euphemism that avoids the negative connotation of “gambling” – is the name by which the top industry in the state of Nevada called itself. Jobs as dealers in casinos can be quite lucrative. I have been told that dealers on the Strip can earn as much as $80,000 per year. Not surprisingly, casinos are rather selective as to whom they will hire as dealers, and they all require that applicants have a certificate in dealing. The Gaming Department at CCSN offers courses leading to this certificate.
The chair of the Gaming Department gave an interesting talk full of humorous anecdotes from his years working as a dealer. We learned, among other things, that when you tip a dealer, s/he is required by federal regulations immediately to drop the tip into a receptacle. All tips are tallied and divided at the end of the day. This requirement was instituted after the IRS came to recognize that dealers earned a lot more than the meager hourly wages they were reporting on their tax returns.
“Couldn’t a dealer just pocket the tip?” I asked.
“If your name is Lance Burton, maybe,” he replied. Burton is a Las Vegas magician famous for his mastery of sleight of hand. “But the rest of us would get caught on one of the video cameras watching our every move.” It’s not just the dealers who are being watched. Cameras watch every inch of a casino 24 hours a day. In other words, if you feel an urge to pick your nose or adjust your underwear, make sure you step outside first.
After the chair finished his talk, he gave us a tour of the campus casino. Yes, CCSN had a casino on campus equipped with slot machines and all the table games you would find on the Strip, such as craps, roulette, blackjack, and baccarat. The chair told the new faculty members each to pick a table of their choice. A different gaming professor manned each table, ready to teach us the ins and outs of a particular game. I never had played any of them before.
The professor manning the roulette table launched the ball, and it spun round and round the wheel. It could stop on any number, I realized. The outcome was determined by the interaction of all sorts of unknown factors, like humidity, atmospheric pressure, imperfections on the surface of the ball and the wheel, and of course, the degree of force with which the ball was launched. Sort of like events in my life. I may launch myself on a particular trajectory, with a clear goal in mind, but factors beyond my control often send me spinning off to a different destination entirely. With these thoughts in mind, I approached the spinning wheel. I had launched myself into this new job, and like the ball on the roulette wheel, I had no idea where I finally would land.
Thus, the final segment of my orientation to life as a tenure-track professor at CCSN was learning how to play roulette. I can’t say that I ever put this knowledge to much use. While living in Las Vegas, the only time I visited casinos was to frequent the movie theaters and restaurants located there. I think I may have dropped a quarter or two in a slot machine on a couple of occasions while waiting for my girlfriend to come out of the bathroom. But that was about it. It’s not that I found gambling to be morally repugnant. I was more than happy to collect a salary paid for with the proceeds from gaming taxes. No, I didn’t gamble because it seemed like a waste of time. After all, if the odds were in favor of the gambler, rather than the casino, the gaming industry would collapse, and Las Vegas would revert to sagebrush and tumbleweeds. As a former economics instructor, whenever I feel like gambling, I am more inclined to gamble on the stock market than the slot machine or the roulette wheel. As a human being, I am even more likely to bet on myself.
Later that week was opening day at CCSN. On the Friday before the start of classes, President Richard Moore ordered all faculty to assemble in the Horn Theater on the Cheyenne
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About the Book
"A SHOCKING INDICTMENT OF OUR SYSTEM OF HIGHER EDUCATION AND THE POLITICS THAT PERMEATE IT." -Raymond Shaffer, Nevada State Senator
Lee Miller was a popular young professor in Las Vegas who thought he was on the fast-track to tenure. He had created an innovative study abroad program with the help of a distinguished U.S. senator, and had found funding for needy students wishing to participate. It was just his first year at the college, and the newspapers already had reported on his work. Little did he know that someone had other plans for the money earmarked for the needy students ... someone who would stop at nothing to crush Miller’s plans.
This true story reads like a novel. Miller weaves an amusing tale of teaching at a community college in "Sin City" with the unpredictable twists and turns of a scandal involving some of the most powerful figures in the state ... a scandal that threatens to end the careers of several administrators at the college.
"This book is extremely entertaining and very accurate. It is a very good read."
– Steve Sisolak, Regent, University and Community College System of Nevada
"THIS IS AN IMPORTANT BOOK. IT SHOULD SERVE TO PREVENT SUCH MADNESS FROM OCCURRING AT OTHER COLLEGES."
– Alexander Greenfeld, former Professor, University of California at Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism
LEE RYAN MILLER has taught political science and economics for more than a decade at colleges and universities in the United States and Japan. He is the author of two political science books. He also has written two epic fantasy novels (as yet unpublished). He resides in Modesto, California. For more information, visit his website:
About the Author
For more than a decade, Lee Ryan Miller taught political science and economics at various colleges and universities in the United States and Japan. He studied at Brandeis University, Oxford University, and Middlebury College, and received a Ph.D. from the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). He has lived and worked in Europe and Asia, as well as in many different cities in the United States, providing substantial inspiration for many works of fiction and nonfiction. In addition to this memoir, he has written several works of political science, numerous short stories, and two epic fantasy novels. He currently resides in Modesto, California, where he writes full-time.