Beatles manager Brian Epstein wanted to clean up the band’s reputation. In order to help the band accrue some idiosyncrasy credits, Epstein laid some ground rules: They were no longer allowed to drink or swear onstage. They were to wear suits instead of leather jackets, and bow at the end of each song. Ringo had to promise to shave off his beard and to always comb his hair forward. Most egregiously, John Lennon was told to avoid mentioning publicly that he was married to Cynthia Powell and had a child on the way. As Lennon described, somewhat resentfully, years later: “All the rough edges were being knocked off us.” Still, the strategy was effective. Bookings picked up, and within months they had a contract and a hit single, “Love Me Do.”

At the height of their fame, in 1966, the Beatles began spending all those idiosyncrasy credits. They dispensed with their polished haircuts and embarked on unusual solo projects. Their music changed, too. According to Inglis’s analysis, 91 percent of the Beatles’ work before 1966 consisted of love songs; starting with “Revolver,” just 16 percent did. (To get a sense of how far they had veered from “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” listen to the White Album’s “Revolution 9,” an eight-minute “sound collage” whose only lyrics are the words “number nine.” If weird had a soundtrack, this would be it.) Through their seamless conformity, the Beatles had become so popular, they didn’t need to be conventional anymore.

Beverly builds these credits by easing her students into the shallow end of sociology, only later encouraging them to plunge further. Many of them come from blue-collar backgrounds, so she shares details of her working-class background with them in order to build a rapport. And she tries to only stick out in the community in ways that matter to her: she doesn’t talk politics with people outside her friend group, for example, or put political bumper stickers on her car. And rather than refer to her field of study as “BDSM,” she says she researches “sexual minorities.” She’s even started saying “fixin’ to.”

She’s also come around on living in Wichita Falls. She made some conservative friends, one of which she refers to as her “favorite Republican.” A former student regularly tries to convert her to Christianity, but Beverly considers her a close friend and lets her proselytize because “that’s who she is.”

On weekends, she drives a few hours to Dallas and other cities to perform interviews for her research or get a dose of big-city life. The Royal Theater, in nearby Archer City, brings in local singers, and Beverly and her best friend try to go, even if they haven’t heard of the main act. It’s not Hamilton, sure. But there’s more to life than Hamilton. When we talked, she had tickets to see Neko Case in Irving, a city a few hours away.