Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Listen, It's Nothing Diabolical.


How exactly did RYS become a fun-phobic forum for faculty farts?

First of all, who let the children into the faculty lounge? This blog’s baffling badminton goes like this: Prof goes off on mush-minded mouthbreather in his ten o’clock class. Student who never took said class or spit said bit in class, but apparently can navigate their browser beyond their dormmate’s ass-cam on MySpace or Everquest XXIV: Revenge of the Minimum Wage Job, weighs in to doth protest too much and for about 77 lines too long. Congratulations. You care. Now get your milk-fed ass back in the library and introduce yourself to a perfect stranger: Mr. Book. The name of the blog is Rate Your Students, not Defend Yourself from the Wrath of Professor Poopenstink. Beat it. If you insist on whimpering, go wring your hanky on Facebook for your 1,327 “friends” that confuse homework with waterboarding and Heineken with cologne. We were never talking about you in the first place.

Second, some hideous PC reflex at RYS feels compelled to air both sides of a given argument. I am not interested in the other side. As far as I can tell, there’s no there there. After hacking my way with a #2 scimitar through a mind-numbing thistle of student papers all weekend, I can only weep for the future of not America, but the entire service industry. Who’s kidding who? The only meaningful shots these people will call in the future will reach no further than their television remote. Of course, that’s what screwed them in the first place, but woe to the prof who pricks that glossy bubble. Didn’t we already read enough of Chuff Charlie’s failed attempts to tango with old man logic during his failed undergrad days? Why endure his grammatically-challenged “real world” rant? Sorry Charlie. Now, shut up and get my salad.

Since when did this site become a democracy? Who cares if e-mail favors the malformed opinions of Joe Cargoshort and Ipod Annie? If we surrender to that math, why don’t we just cede the floor to the 25 somnambulistic nincompoops hogging all the good oxygen in our classrooms? I call for a tyranny of the enlightened, not a tedious soapbox for Night of the Living Abercrombie & Fitch Manikins. And by the way, I do understand that there are five real scholars in that stew of tuition payers, I read their papers too and praised the long lost ghost of Charles W. Eliot after each one. Here’s the problem. As more and more colleges swing open the gates for more and more academically unprepared kids who hemorrhage tuition dollars but are not chased away by mindful profs but instead coddled via an administrator's money-grubbing precept of “retention” (i.e., diminished expectations, consequences, and ultimately, returns), the more profs will throw up their hands before kids who have absolutely no business in a college classroom.

The more RYS tamps down the release valve for the white hot bile of these harassed profs, the fewer outlets we have and the more stymied we feel. For the sake of our career (and our marriages), we need a release that will serve to ward off cynicism, only so we can be there for those five scholars who deserve it, and the handful of students who just might step up before their four years are up. This explains the well deserved wake up call of the Snooze Alarm. I say, let the venting begin.