Bona Fides

My name is Leigh M. Johnson (aka, “Dr J”). I am creative, innovative, tech-savvy, and probably one of the funniest smart people you know. You can find me on Al Gore’s internet on Facebook, Twitter/X, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, or just visit m Contact page to email me. 

I earned my BA in Philosophy at University of Memphis in 2000, my MA in Philosophy at Villanova University in 2003, and my PhD in Philosophy (with a Doctoral Minor in African and African-American Studies) at The Pennsylvania State University in 2007. I wrote my dissertation on truth commissions, focusing in particular on the way that peoples’ understandings of history, forgiveness, and justice were refigured in the process of transitioning from non-democratic repressive states to emergent democratic states in South Africa, Argentina, Rwanda, and the former Yugoslavian states.

From 2007-2014, I was an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Rhodes College, and from 2014-2024, I taught at Christian Brothers University, where I was tenured and promoted to Associate Professor in 2016. The Philosophy departments no longer exist at either of those colleges/universities. Don’t blame me, though. I was awesome.

I’ve kept myself very busy outside the classroom for my entire career: From 2006-2023, I hosted one of the most widely-visited blogs on the internet “ReadMoreWriteMoreThinkMoreBeMore” (which, unfortunately, not longer exists in its previous internet form, but you can access the archives here), I co-produced the short documentary film Working in Memphis (here), created and curated an art project entitled “American Values Project” (video summary here), and launched two successful podcasts, Black Mirror Reflections (here), and the still-ongoing weekly podcast Hotel Bar Sessions (here). 

I don’t stop. I can’t stop. It’s a curse.

Started From The Bottom Now We Here

I didn’t come from an “academic” family… in fact, I got my BA from the University of Memphis only a couple of years before my Mom did the same. My folks had exactly zero plans for me to go to college, and I’m the first person in my family to get an advanced degree. (For the entire time that I was in graduate school, my folks just kept asking me when I was going to finish my “paper,” by which I think they meant my dissertation.) That’s just to say, I was always a bit of a fish out of water in academia.

Once I found it, though, I knew the classroom was my natural environment. Maybe that’s because I was a PK (“Preacher’s Kid”)– which an alarming number of Philosophy professors are!– or maybe it was my own constitutional nerdiness, but whatever the reason, I realized quickly that I couldn’t live, breathe, think, or thrive  outside of the classroom. So, after many, many  years of bartending and playing in bands and generally f*cking around as an undergraduate, I was lucky enough to have a few professors at UofM (Robert Bernasconi, Len Lawlor, and Tina Chanter, specifically) who literally grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and told me to get my shit together. 

That “literally” is not metaphorical… I remember the night that Len Lawlor *literally* grabbed me by the scruff of the neck in a bar and said “you need to graduate or quit.” (Harsh, but true!) 

Thanks to them– and an a stellar GRE score and writing sample–  I got accepted into several excellent grad schools. I decided on Villanova and, thanks to me, I was smart enough to make good decisions after I got there… which meant taking an offer to transfer to Penn State when I saw VU’s Philosophy Department begin to crumble.

I only tell that story because there are so many students I’ve had before who think, like I did, that “graduate school” is this mysterious thing that rich people do. It’s not.

Or, it didn’t used to be, at least.

The (Other, Disappearing) Beautiful Game

I have loved– ABOLUTELY LOVED– every minute of my time in the classroom. I loved every minute of my time in grad school even more.

My time in acdemia? Considerably less so.

There are lots of roles that we’re required to play as academics– researchers, editors, reviewers, committee members, department members, conference participants, etc.– but the most important, to me, was always the role of the teacher. Not as some “authority” imparting knowledge to empty vessels–though, sometimes that is necessary–but rather something more like a midwife, helping to give birth to something unexpected. 

A lot of academics see their work in the classroom as “serving time” to fund their research endeavors, and there is a place for those people (I’m glad they exist!), but I’ve always known that my gift was to be an excellent teacher, and I’ve always treated the classroom like a wondrous, sacred space where inspiring things happen when trust is built, risk is embraced, and difference is respected. 

The “professionalization” of academia has accomplished some good things, to be sure, but (to put it in gross business terms) it has lost sight of its own “supply chain.” The excellent teachers– those who not only inspire and motivate, but also educate, train, and discipline the next generation of philosophers– are being phased out. That is not only a loss for those who find themselves unemployed, it is a loss to the entire enterprise of higher learning. Full stop.

Learning has always been a beautiful game. Higher ed learning is even more beautiful, but only when it is not reduced to instrumental outcomes.