Freeway Fliers : For little pay and no benefits, part-time instructors take to the road just to teach.

Steve McHargue has a law degree, but he prefers the classroom to the courtroom. So instead of pulling in a six-figure income as a lawyer, the 46-year-old Thousand Oaks resident barely makes ends meet as a part-time college instructor at several schools spanning two counties.

McHargue--known as Dr. Mac to his students--teaches political science at Los Angeles Valley College in Van Nuys and at College of the Canyons in Valencia. He teaches three history classes at Oxnard Community College and at Oxnard College’s satellite campus in Camarillo. And he also may teach two law classes to paralegal students at a private business school in Westlake Village.

His yearly income from all those jobs is less than $20,000.

McHargue is one of hundreds of instructors known as “freeway fliers.” Juggling several part-time teaching jobs, freeway fliers drive from school to school--often teaching six or more classes at as many far-flung campuses. Despite their hectic schedules, their combined earnings total just a fraction of the pay of full-time instructors, who teach four or five classes at one school and earn an average annual salary of $50,000 to $60,000. At most colleges, freeway fliers are paid $30 an hour, but only for the hours they teach in the classroom. They are not paid for related work such as preparation, counseling students or grading papers.

Every fall, McHargue hopes to land a full-time teaching position, which would cut his drive time, reduce his class load and more than double his income. But full-time spots are scarce and competition is fierce. Now, with state and local budget cutbacks, part-time positions are scarce and new full-time positions are almost nonexistent.

“I teach for the joy of it,” he says. “If I could get a full-time salary and benefits, I would teach at one place. But who knows? I may do this the rest of my teaching career.”

Part-time teachers receive no benefits, accrue no seniority and are not eligible for tenure. As the first victims of cutbacks and fluctuating student enrollment, they often aren’t told what subjects they’ll teach--or if they have a job at all--until a few days before classes begin.

It’s an insecure, uncomfortable and unprofitable way to eke out a living. Why do they do it?

“We do it because we love to be educators,” says Viki Leonard, 34, who lives in Burbank and teaches speech at College of the Canyons, Cal State Northridge and Pasadena City College.

“I absolutely love teaching. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t drive around from school to school to school. With my master’s degree, I could go out and earn $40,000 a year doing something else and not run all over God’s country making myself nuts.”

Despite the drawbacks, there is no shortage of instructors willing to accept part-time assignments. At many local colleges, part-time teachers outnumber full-timers. The Los Angeles Community College District employs 2,000 part-time and 1,800 full-time teachers at its nine campuses, including Valley, Pierce College in Woodland Hills and San Fernando Mission College in Sylmar. College of the Canyons has 145 part-time teachers but only 70 full-timers on its faculty. Last spring, more than 800 full-time and almost 600 part-time instructors taught at CSUN, but most of the part-time jobs were eliminated this fall because of state budget cuts.

Even though part-time teachers make up the majority of faculty members of most schools, they are often treated like outsiders on campus. In most cases, they are not provided with their own office or desk, so they are forced to lug around stacks of textbooks and papers in bulging briefcases.

Because they have nowhere to confer privately with students, they often must arrange awkward meetings in hallways. Any outside discussions with students must be done on the instructor’s own time.

“Every school has dozens of part-time teachers, and none of us can do anything special for students,” McHargue says. “We have no opportunity to counsel students or participate more fully in the students’ lives through field trips, extracurricular activities or career advisement.”

“I try to do some extra things for my students,” he says, “but it’s tough when I have to be in so many different places: three hours here, three hours there. The commitment wears a little thin when I have to drive 40 miles to the next job.”

Part-timers also complain that they have no voice in campus policies, no say in curriculum development and no occasion to interact with other instructors. They are not even invited to faculty meetings.

“For me, teaching is more than making money,” says Jack Miller, 36, a Thousand Oaks resident who teaches three political science classes at College of the Canyons, another three at Moorpark College and one course at Cal Lutheran University in Thousand Oaks. “It is what I can give back to my community, but part-time teachers don’t feel like part of the community. We have no opportunities to interact or contribute.”

“We come in, do our thing and leave,” says English teacher Debi Ballard, 38, who lives in Sylmar and has taught at CSUN, College of the Canyons and Mission College over the past three years. This semester, she’s scheduled to teach six classes, three at CSUN and three at College of the Canyons.

“Nobody ever sees us and nobody ever knows us. I like going to different schools and meeting different students, but if you don’t feel like you are part of the institution, you feel like you are out in the wilderness by yourself.”

Ballard says a few schools do try to make their part-time teachers feel appreciated. College of the Canyons, for example, offers an “associate” program that includes instruction-skills workshops for part-timers, networking opportunities and a 5% salary increase.

“Most importantly,” Ballard says, “it gives teachers the opportunity to meet each other and share teaching approaches with other part-timers. Just getting feedback makes a big difference. As a new teacher, I see this as my training.

“In the long run, though, I would probably do a better job if I settled down in one situation, rather than jumping in my car, spending time on the road, living out of my trunk and trying to remember where I am.”

For most part-time teachers, the chance of landing a full-time position is slim. The full-time jobs “are just not there and have not been there for a long time,” says Robert Standen, vice chancellor of the Los Angeles Community College District. “Things have been tight ever since Proposition 13. These days, jobs come about through retirement and resignation. We don’t even talk about expansion.”

Standen, whose career began in the 1960s as a part-time geography teacher at Pierce, says: “And when a full-time position does open up, being a part-timer at the school is not a guarantee of the job. It is not even a foot in the door.”

Despite their grim job prospects, freeway fliers hold out hope. The teachers eagerly listen to and repeat the rumor about an anticipated mass exodus of senior faculty. They count the graying heads around campus and predict that next year, maybe the year after, hundreds of teachers will retire and a slew of coveted positions will open.

But Miller is skeptical. “In 1985 I first heard that myth about all these full-time people retiring,” he says. “But if anything, things are getting worse. If I had a full-time position, I would earn at least $10,000 more and teach fewer classes.”

Most discouraging, part-time teachers say, is when an elusive full-time spot finally opens--and a newcomer gets the job while longtime part-timers are bypassed.

“More often than not, it doesn’t work out that we hire a part-timer for a full-time position,” says CSUN spokeswoman Kaine Thompson. “Competition is tough. When a position is available, we get a lot of applications from people who have credentials that surpass what the part-timers have.”

McHargue puts it more bluntly. “It is disappointing and a financial blow,” he says, “but if they can get us this cheap, why should they pay us more money?”

Sharon Kollmeyer, 45, who has taught English at CSUN and Santa Monica City College since 1983 and manages a Northridge apartment complex to supplement her income, learned that lesson the hard way. When a full-time position opened at Santa Monica, she was not even granted an interview, despite the years she spent at the campus.

“I know the system; I know the students,” she says. “But the hiring committee was not looking in its own back yard. It is very demoralizing. . . .

“But I have made my separate peace. I am very grateful for the work I have, and I do a good job. I do it for myself and for my students because kudos certainly don’t come from the Establishment or the school or the department or the salary.”