Editor’s Note: This article raises important questions about job security and workplace protections that extend well beyond the walls of a university. While the debate over faculty tenure is significant, it is worth pausing to consider the broader context in which it exists: Tennessee is a right-to-work state, where most employees across nearly every industry can be terminated at any time, for almost any reason, with little to no formal protection.
Tenure is, in many ways, a rare exception to that reality. And I say that not as an abstract observation, but as someone who has lived the alternative my entire working life.
I started my first job at the Omni Hut restaurant in Smyrna when I was 13, hired by Major James “Jim” Walls — a man whose work ethic made a lasting impression on me.

I was fortunate to live next door to Major Walls and his wife, Sally, whom I considered mentors. Many evenings, I would ride with Major Walls to work for my 6:00 to 10:00 p.m. shift, and other times I walked the mile myself — often along the railroad tracks. From there, I worked at Morrison’s Restaurant, Taco Bell, and eventually Whirlpool Corporation, where I spent some of my days on an assembly line lifting about 35,000 pounds daily, pulling dehumidifier units off a nonstop conveyor belt. There were no job protections, no appeals process, no complaint department and certainly no tenure. You produced, or you didn’t have a job. It was that simple.
”It is often said, that Major James Walls and wife Sally Walls helped more people in Smyrna get their first jobs than anyone,” said Mike Sparks
At Coca-Cola Bottling, the same standard applied. I took pride in running the most efficient route they had — not because someone was protecting my position, but because performance was the only currency that mattered. When I joined Nissan Auto Assembly at 26, that culture was made crystal clear.

Plant CEO Jerry Benefield was known for telling under-performers exactly where they stood: “If you can’t hack it, get your jacket.” Meaning, go home. No grievance process. No tenure review board. Just results.
I worked at Nissan until I was 33, and I can tell you that the discipline and accountability that environment demanded shaped everything about how I approach work and life. It’s the same ethic my late father — a World War II veteran — instilled in me long before I ever punched a time clock.
For most Tennesseans — whether they work in retail, healthcare, manufacturing, or the service industry — the kind of job security that tenure provides is simply not available. I will argue that today’s generation, for the most part, has not been asked to meet the same standard of raw, unprotected productivity that many of us knew as young workers. That is not entirely their fault, but it is worth saying plainly.
That is not to suggest tenure serves no purpose. The protections it affords — academic freedom, the space to challenge ideas, the room to innovate without fear of immediate reprisal — can serve a genuine public good. But it is worth asking whether the academy has, over time, allowed those protections to drift from a shield for bold thinking into a shelter from accountability.
I applaud both legislative sponsors Rep. Jason Zachary and Rep. Justin Lafferty for bringing this conversation forward. It is a debate Tennessee needs to have. And while reasonable people can disagree on where the line should be drawn, I believe the standard that governed my working life — and the lives of countless Tennesseans before and after me — is not an unreasonable place to start.
Then again… If you can’t hack it, get your jacket.
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Originally Published in The UT Beacon












When someone mentions tenure, there can be confusion surrounding what exactly it is. The history of Tennessee tenure is complicated in itself.
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