Just When We Think It's Completely Hopeless...

For the professor who thinks we just haven't got a clue:

No, not ignorant; at least not as much as you may think. We listen to you every week mostly half-heartedly, but hear you we always do. See, it was you who let it slip. We understood it in the way you gravitate towards the door two minutes before class ends blocking it solid shut; in your miraculous transformation from a stone-cast rag-doll to pixar animation character all in that sixty-second commute to lecture-hall.

And we'll try not to interfere with your love affair with exclamation marks and turn a blind eye to your life-long dependency on caffeinated products.

Yes, we know. We've all done our eye-rolling, yawing, giggling, chatting, and what not; but to mistake the hurt and disappointment in your glaze. No, never. We do apologize. We suppose you're wondering why in the world they didn't put it on your contract that you'd be crushed heart and soul during the first five to seven years in the profession. You know better now; we can almost hear it in your voice. Even if you carved your lecture notes in gold, some just won't read.

But, yet you try, try to keep your head above water. Your seasoned colleagues must have told you some students can't learn; and that sometimes you need to look out for yourself. There's no guarantees (if that's what you're looking for), so trust your own judgement.

Why is life so unreasonably hard? You won't be the first to ask that; we're all asking the same thing right along side with you.

But we agreed among ourselves that we'll survive this, that we'll learn. Might even love it. You know why? Well, it's kind of obvious isn't it? You showed us the way. You persevered; life has given you sour lemons and you made lemonade. We must have driven you to your knees at times, but you refused to break. You're still here after all. We're learned that everything can't be always fun, but it's still important none the less.

And more then you know, we feel lucky, blessed; that even if life's a fine balancing act all together, that's still hope and grace so profound, making it all worthwhile. And although we'll never come up to you and say this, we've learned, and that's thanks to you.

We'd Encourage Future Students To Read the Syllabus, or Maybe Just Take Another Class.

• To R: True, anything would be better than a zero. Unfortunately, the limited list of legitimate reasons for excused absences does not actually include not knowing we had a test today. In your email you state that you "will not bother with excuses." Bless you for that. Actually, though, you could have saved yourself the trouble of emailing me at all if you had read the syllabus, which states several times that there are no makeups on exams or quizzes. Of course, then you might have seen the exam dates in bold print on the front page and we wouldn't have had this exchange anyway. RTFS.


• To S: Your three-page handwritten note, slid under my door while I was in my afternoon class, in which you explain that you missed your exam because you "swear to God" (three times!) that you did not know we had class on Fridays, does not help your case. Nor does pointing out that you need this class to graduate this semester (since it seems a Senior in college should be acquainted with the significance of the letter F in the context "MWF 10-10:50"). If you had taken a look at the syllabus, you could have seen that there are no makeups on exams or quizzes. Of course, then you might have seen the exam dates in bold print on the front page and we wouldn't have had this exchange anyway. RTFS.


• To A: As stated in the syllabus, in the case of an excused absence from an exam or quiz, the points for the missed work are simply dropped from your grade. As stated several times in the syllabus, there are no makeups on exams or quizzes. No, you do not need to make an appointment with me to make up the exam you missed. The syllabus gives details on what documentation you need and how to get it to me. I do not buy your assertion that "you looked at the syllabus but still weren't clear on what you needed to do to make up your work," because the syllabus would have told you that you cannot make up your work. I do not have the energy to respond politely to your latest email asking when you can come see me. The syllabus includes a complete schedule of my office hours. RTFS.


• To D: The syllabus specifically excludes oversleeping as a legitimate reason for granting an excused absence from an exam. Buy a fucking alarm clock. And RTFS.


• To K: Yes, surgery justifies an excused absence from a quiz. The syllabus tells you what kind of documentation you need and how to get it to me. I do not believe that you read the syllabus before you wrote to me but "didn't see anything about missed quizzes." Maybe that was some other professor's syllabus you were reading.


• To S: No, you *still* cannot make up the exam, even though you have emailed me again. Yes, you did email me late the evening before the exam asking if it would be given in the regular lecture classroom, and it's true that I did not answer the email until the next morning when I arrived in my office. That still doesn't make it my fault that you didn't know we had class on Fridays.


• To L: As stated in the syllabus, if you're missing class and there's no graded work, you do not need to contact me. There are 200 students in your class. Your shining faces might as well be printed on a poster. I will not notice if you are there or not, nor do I really care. As stated in the syllabus, if you miss class it is your responsibility to get notes from a classmate and any handouts from the course website. It is not my responsibility to repeat my 50-minute lecture for your benefit, nor would my lecture notes be any use to you at all unless you already knew enough about my subject to speak coherently for ten minutes from a two-word prompt. Oh, I see you have never visited the course website--please note that as stated in the syllabus you are expected to check in "regularly" and that "daily internet access is assumed." Details on how to find the course website are given in the syllabus. So if you don't know how to get handouts, RTFS.


• To T: Thank you, thank you for the following email: "Dr. QED, I have checked on your office hour schedule and unfortunately I have classes during all of those times. I would like to make an appointment to meet with you about some of the homework problems. Please let me know whether any of the following times will fit your schedule: MW 1-3, TR 9-12, and F 10-3." You are clearly a student who wants to make it easy for me to attend to your needs. This message even displays standard spelling and punctuation. It is the best piece of student writing I have seen in at least three weeks. I think I love you.

It's "Eat Poop" Saturday!

To Mr. Wannabe Bully,

I understand you really wanted that A, and in fact had done everything to deserve that A except this little thing called my attendance policy. I told you that I hated taking attendance but would do so because (#1) student loan concerns and (#2) I wanted you to sit your lazy butt in my class.

And guess what, I took attendance! At the end of the summer session you were suddenly upset at my policy, TOO DAMN BAD! For once in your little life you were taken to task. I feel bad about changing your grade, that is until I received your emails. In fact, your first two emails the first day after grades were given out were a bit alarming, but I felt as if I had explained myself quite clearly. If that was not enough, you told me to "eat poop."

I should have been insulted, but honestly, this only made me feel like I had made the correct decision. After discussing this with a colleague, we have decided to make shirts with "Eat Poop" on the front of them and we both hope that despite the fact you are enrolled with a different department we hope you see the shirts around campus.

Yes, this makes me evil, but that was honestly the nicest thing you said to me and I can only hope you remember the experience as clearly as I do.

BTW, if I remember correctly you had stated that you were taking corrective measures against me and had the full confidence of the dean in this matter. In fact, you stated that much more of my time would be consumed by this affair than I would like to commit. Well, just as a reminder it has been two months and no one has said one word to me, so I would like to remind you that I am still here, waiting.

Your Asshole Prof

This Is A Little Dark, Even For RYS. The "Coddled Babies" Post.

Dearest Snowflake,

I see you smirking at me in the back row. You think I don't know that it was you who complained about my "demoralizing" manner to the undergraduate Dean of Students. What tipped me off was when you marched your lackluster ass into my office brandishing the B+ on your first essay, brashly declaring, "Um. I'm not a B+ student."

Sadly, as our dean is about to succumb to his/her next nervous breakdown, he/she delegated my disgraceful behavior (of trying to show you that stating the painfully obvious isn't really a stellar thesis) to my direct supervisor who happens to chair my dissertation committee. As the touchy-feely, wishy-washy dishrag that he/she is, he/she recommended that I elevate my already generous grading system about 3/4s a letter grade (can anyone whisper GRADE INFLATION?).

He/she further advised me that you, my students, are "babies" and ought to be "coddled" regularly. As I must keep said dishrag deliriously happy until I receive my doctorate, you have me by the short and curlies. However, please know that the tutorials/conferences I offer at the Starbuck's near my house every Saturday before papers are due are coming to a screeching halt. Also know that I will no longer read stories or poems that I am unfamiliar with so that you can have freedom in your choice of essay topics. Extended office hours will be reduced to one hour per week, and I will for damn sure quit preparing class notes before working on my dissertation.

You may get the A you feel so entitled to because the system sucks, but please know that karma is a bigger bitch than you are. My regards to your parents who never taught you to work for anything, who kept you the baby that you are, and who coddled you right out of becoming a worthwhile adult. I used to care about your difficult journey from adolescence into adulthood, but I couldn't give a rusty fuck now.

"Where Do They Go, When They Go?" A Note From the Field From Our Chief Correspondent.

This is for the one that got away. You who slouched in a different seat each class, sputtering comments so stunningly moronic even the 20-watt bulbs in the back row perked up. Your game of musical desks gave me a false positive on the classroom’s stupidity quotient for those first few magical days. Then you were gone. I felt suddenly surrounded by 22 Stephen Hawkings. Where are you? What went wrong? Was it something I said?

I’ve had my unfair share of stiffs in the past. And there will be fools aplenty tomorrow. But I thought you were different. You could have made me forget the others. But today, as I ace your name from the roster, forever, I feel ... jilted. Happy students are all alike; every horrific student is insufferable in his or her own way. The troll with his mercilessly insipid questions; hiccupping non-sequiturs at the very moment my lecture is about to hit academic paydirt. Or the 20-something brownshirt whose pie-hole doubled as a bilge pipe, spewing shards of angry talk radio at his frightened classmates, while driving every discussion into a ditch. The smug jackwipe who finally deigned to enter College Writing II in her junior year, if only to get her jollies by outwitting a peanut gallery of hapless freshmen. Or the lumpendoofus whose grasp of composition was few halberds shy of barbaric, convinced of his entry into Harvard Law? Fools all. All I could do was wave from the platform as they all boarded the express train to Palookaville.

Once I consoled myself knowing these people would someday get their just desserts. A comeuppance. A wakeup call. But I wouldn’t be there to enjoy it. So I figured, “Why wait?” Why can’t I be the one who cuts you down at the knees, tells you take your cart and your bricks and get the fuck out of my classroom? Why can’t I be the change I want to see in the world?

I think about the one who got away, and I feel a loss. I lost a chance to forever top any nightmare related in my department. I lost my shot at being “chief correspondent” at RYS. Maybe they'd invite me to the compound to slurp margaritas from a wheelbarrow and twiddle with blogger templates till my retinas burned.

What I truly lost out on was knowing if I did that kid a favor. Maybe he dropped out. Maybe he got a job. Maybe he saved his folks a bundle in tuition. Maybe transferred across the hall and is making your life a living hell. Maybe it dawned on him that adulthood starts today. Maybe he’s playing Xbox and doesn’t give a shake.

I don’t know. And neither do you. And that’s how it goes.

Some First-Year Pre-Midterm Jitters…

1. “Are we gonna, like, have to know everything?”
2. “I came in late. What I miss?”
3. “The blue books, what are they for again?”
4. In a writing-intensive course: “So, it’s gonna be multiple-choice, right?”
5. In said class, after a five-week song and dance about why study guides are not used in the course: “Are you gonna pass out, like, a study guide?”
6. From nontraditional 30-something soccer mom leaving a freshman survey classroom: “I’m so [blood-curdling scream] CONFUSED!!!”
7. “Alright, okay, so like, alright we only have to just okay, like, write what we remember from what you said in class, we don’t need to like read the book or anything?”
8. “I had to miss last week, can I borrow the video and give it back after the test?”
9. After assigning the exam for the following Tuesday: “So it’ll be next Thursday, right?”
10. From at least fifteen students in a class of over seventy as the exam is being passed out: “I forgot my blue book, can I go buy one and come back, or will I have to take the test later?”

Academic Haiku Friday! "Under the Skin."

Under the skin already.

Like a tick,

or perhaps an extraordinarily

invasive case of scabies.

Yes, you are a good student,

ask interesting questions,

have actually done

the assignments,

participate in the void silence

of' class discussions.

Yes, I made the mistake

of positive reinforcement.

Somehow you have decided

that I have something profound to teach you.

Ok, I'm flattered,

but that DOES NOT MEAN

you can stake out my office,

invite yourself to my lunch table,

forward me stupid-cute emails

that will damn me to hell

if I don't send them to seven more people

and it absolutely, certainly,

DOES NOT MEAN

that you can follow me to the bathroom

and continue a conversation through the door.

The Sad Saga of Student McIgnorant, Our Pick For Favorite Fake Name Of the Week.

Hello mr. Professor,

Hope your semester is goin well. I'm writing this email in reference to my grade from your class in the summer, writing research. I've been trying to get in contact with you through phone so has Mr. Disciplinary Committee Chair but we have not recieved any calls back. Due to my failing grade in the class Mr.Committe Chair, and another staff member came to a decision from my administrative hearing. I have yet to recieve a final grade from the course. Without the rough draft being graded you explained to me that myself along with the other students were at a C grade level. Now because i failed the rough draft does that mean that i failed the class as a whole? Because from my understanding there were other papers and grades that were incorporated into the class. I need some clarity on this because i need a grade for my transcripts to be transfered over and i do not want to transfer the incorrect grade and plus i need this class to be able to move forward in my curriculum for school with a C or higher. I know that you are busy with your fall semeter classes as well as myself, but i would really appreciate if you can get this grade squared away as soon as possible. My apologies for not writing this sooner but i was under the assumption that everything was squared away. If its possible if you have time to respond back to myself and also to Mr. Committee Chair. Thank you

Student McIgnorant

---

Discussion:

Mr. McIgnorant plagiarized on a graded draft of the paper that was the sole purpose for the summer course. The syllabus states that any plagiarism will result in immediate failure of the course. The university policies regarding plagiarism were worked into the actual course assignments in order to ensure all students knew what they were and the consequences for violating this first clause of the student Code of Conduct for the university. The student was also counseled as to the outcome when the plagiarism was discovered. The ONLY contact with the Disciplinary Committee Chair was when she informed me that the student admitted to the plagiarism and knew that he failed the class. The university has my official e-mail address and has access to my home phone number; no one has ever contacted me.

The sad part: this student claims he wants to be an English major in order to become a school teacher! Just look at his "professional" writing ability! He claimed he couldn't find anything on his original topic (which is either a lie or he's just an incompetent researcher), so he changed the topic without approval. He openly admitted the [second] topic used research he had done for another course, which is not allowed by official university policy (also discussed early in the semester). While he seemed quite pleasant and interested in learning how to do research, he's either just: 1) really dumb, 2) too lazy to do the work, or 3) both.

This is why so many of us need RYS.

Our Favorite Recent Insanity.

I'm trying to get some info regarding the back to school season, especially in the area of school supply lists handed out by middle and high schools. If anyone on your blog could help me, it would be greatly appreciated.

In one newspaper article it was stated that the back to school season was now second to Christmas for overall sales. I've searched the Web but I can't find any articles about what is happening behind the scenes when it comes to the lists handed out by schools for required items. These lists range from certain brands of pencils up to expensive calculators.

So here are a couple of questions regarding this topic:

1. How are the lists compiled? Does the administration hand down the list or are teachers involved?
2. How much influence, if any, do manufacturers and chain stores have on what goes on the list?

I'm trying to research this subject but so far all I've found online are complaints in newsgroups about these lists by parents, mainly the cost and the requirement to buy certain brands. Please pass along any comments or links you may have. Thank you.

"RYS Is A Scam!" Tiresome Terry Finally Makes It On the Big Board!

We occasionally hear from folks like Terry below, and we don't know what to say. We try to publish as many different writers as possible, and aim to provide a representative post or two each day. We have mail that comes in and occasionally we get hundreds of pieces overnight. Obviously we're turning a lot of people down, not just Tiresome Terry. We hope he continues to read and write.

I have grown exhausted of sending you assholes interesting and relevant posts. I know I've sent you at least 30 pieces, and not one has ever appeared, yet you publish complete and utter drivel from "chief correspondents" and students all the time. My pieces have focused on admissions problems, issues in upper administration, and even "smackdown" on problem students.

I'm calling you on your scam. RYS must be a little pet project of 2-3 sad sack professors with way too much time on their hands - tenure plus no research agendas. You sit there in your cluttered offices and make all of this shit up. That's why the tone of pieces is so similar. I think it's unconscionable that you pass this off as a forum where educators can share ideas.

Anyway, there's no way that my posts aren't better than most of the complete shit you put up every day. I'm sick of trying and I'm going to stop reading the site altogether. I think anyone else who has tried to get published here should do the same.

Listen, We Make Up the Titles to Posts. Y'all Can Send In Your Half-Witty Titles All Day Long, But We Prefer Our Own Half Witty Titles. Except Today.

Fuzzy Math

by Professor Piquant

Let me begin by admitting that I am a professor of literature. I chose that profession for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I am lousy at math. Please keep that disclaimer in mind as you read.

On my walk to campus today, I was thinking about the whole end-of-the-semester student evaluation process and, as usual, about how much I loathe it. I was thinking about that process because, regrettably, I am already looking forward to the end of the semester. Despite my best efforts to make my class “innovative”and “entertaining” and “relevant” and “meaningful” to my students, I have already had one lovely young scholar admit out loud—on two separate occasions within my earshot—that my class was wasting her time. I also have several other students who seem to think that if they open their laptops in class and stare at them really intently, I will be convinced that they are studying the course material, despite the fact that we are currently reading a bound book that is not available anywhere online or, apparently, in their dorm rooms, because they have yet to bring their books to class. Last time I checked, though, the text was conveniently located in the campus bookstore. I know because I ordered it—all by myself.

So where is the math, you ask? Consider this: Many “teaching” institutions require their profs to teach quite a bit, semester after semester. If these professors teach a 4/4 load, then they get formally evaluated eight times a year. If we speculate that they teach 20 students per class meaning that at the end of the academic year, they receive roughly 160 written,“official” evaluations that often stay on file, can determine tenure, and can be used to make hiring—and termination—decisions. Not to mention that they can do a number on any teacher’s self-esteem.

Is there really any other profession that subjects its workers to this kind of official, documented scrutiny? Surely even the most overbearing, exploitative corporate bosses do not have the time or the energy to write up that many evaluations in ten months.

We Love It When "I'm Sorry" Really Just Means, "You're Fucked."

To the students who thought it not important to show up for the mandatory conferences where I give out free advice on how to revise your horrid, horrid drafts.

I know, I know. It's my fault, right? You couldn't find the office. You thought you were signed up for a different time. I have to ask your forgiveness. I only discussed these conferences at the beginning and the end of class for the last three periods. I only passed around the sign-up sheet three times and reminded you to write down your time. And I've only told you where my office is five times, in addition to its location being clearly printed on the syllabus.

But you lost the syllabus, right? Far be it for me to mention that my office is also listed online. You know that "Internet" thing that you all are so obsessed with? This is one time that it could have been useful! But I probably should have shown you exactly how to find me online, right? And who am I to expect you to listen in class? You're trying to sleep/talk/leave!

I know this because one student who did come to conferences (two hours late) told me that he really didn't know what I expected from the papers because he's "just trying to stay awake" during the 2:00 pm class. It must be rough.

Well, all I can say is, I am truly sorry. And when you get your un-conferenced final drafts back, I guess I'll be sorry then too. But probably not as sorry as you will be. I guess I'll be hearing from you all a lot more after that.

Let the Pain Begin: A "Celebration of Students."

• A small but heartfelt request: My office is small. In winter if I open the window we'll both freeze. So if you're coming to my office hours, I don't care how certain you are I'll be blown away by your brilliant ideas and ready to chat with you at length - for the love of Pete, PLEASE WASH. There's only so long I can hold my breath. And if I leave the door standing wide open and the fan on, please have the grace to believe me when I claim that I'm trying to reduce the viral load during flu season. I know it's lame. But I can hardly tell you that your B.O. would fell an ox at forty paces. Just while we're here, it's entirely your business if you want to wear the same clothes every day. But would it kill you to run them through the wash every week or so? Just asking.


• To the anonymous sorority girl who burst into my small discussion class halfway through the period, two weeks into the class, to demand whether there was still room for her to join: It was a pleasure to tell you “no.” It was an even greater pleasure to watch your reaction validate my quick judgment of your character: You rolled your eyes, made some back-of-the-throat noise, and exclaimed, “Oh, gawd” before slamming the door and leaving. Everyone in the class thought you were an idiot, which only raised the lot of them in my estimation. The semester is well underway, doll. You can’t go poking your head into random classrooms until you find one that welcomes you with open arms. Even if I had room in the class, I’d be damned if I were to spend hours of my time catching you up on the work you missed when you clearly chose my class, not out of interest, but because it happened to be near where you were standing.


• The ‘A’ student...I heard you the first three times; you only got ‘A’s in high school. Therefore you should not be in this class (formerly known as remedial writing—now that’s just too honest). I know you didn’t ‘really try’ on the exam all students take at the beginning of the term to see if remedial, I mean ‘support’, writing is needed because you’re an ‘A’ student, after all. Please feel free to take your essay (with a big red F on it) back to your high school teacher who gave you that ‘A’. (And just to be clear, I’m quite sure this teacher who thought you were ‘a great writer’ exits only in your imagination-- perhaps in your D&D world as a scabby, one-eyed elf because now that you are ‘really trying,' it is obvious that you have not a clue. Or maybe she did give you an ‘A’ with the two ‘S’s missing.)


• My self-esteem as a teacher has been ravaged by students. Where do I begin? The4 girls who sat together and spent the entire class glancing at each other and sharing their contempt for me, not paying attention, and then complaining that they didn't get it? The jock and his girlfriend who sat together and snickered and rolled their eyes - and then complained they weren't given a day off when they wanted it? The guy who started class with his headphones blaring, and who got pissed off when I asked him to take them off? The same guy who used obscene language in classroom discussions, and when I warned him for his behaviour,went and complained to my supervisor - who came back to me asking me to be nice because the guy "cried" in his office? The music major who was offended that I wouldn't give him limitless leaves (because he as a music major was too good to attend Education classes), and who used his evaluation form to get back at me for not giving him exactly the grades he wanted? The guy who was mad that the attendance policy was being enforced? When will the pain end?

What Are the Benefits to Free Expression and Evaluation?

Students’ names should be publicized on the web in a forum that allows free expression by their professors, just as students have the same freedom of expression on sites that rate their professors.

I googled “rate your students” to see if anyone had started a site akin to Rate My Professor. Rate Your Students is great, but I must admit I was hoping to find a set-up similar to the kind created for the professor ranking sites. My reason? I wonder what I might be able to say about those students who ruin a class for others when they are too immature and/or irresponsible to take on the job of being a student. I wonder what I could say about the students I’ve had who are clearly too emotionally imbalanced to accept the kind of constructive criticism that comes with serious study of any subject.

Students should feel free to air their opinions about professors, but how would it feel to them if their professors rated them in the same way as seen on these professor rating sites? Power abuse by any teacher should be reported in appropriate ways - to authorities that can exercise the law. Petty grievances, though, nearly all of which are what appear on Rate My Professor, must be dealt with the same way prior generations have dealt with them: either discuss the issue with the other person or learn how to cope with not having your way, not having your expectations met; failing to meet your own expectations; dealing with someone who is difficult for you to get along with, and the myriad other lessons to be learned from engaging with adversity.

Before you take the time to offer feedback about a professor, take the time to think about how constructive the feedback is. If it isn’t truly helpful, if it’s just a way to make you feel better because things didn’t go your way or you just didn’t like the teacher, then try putting that energy into something that truly makes you feel powerful, like offering your help to someone who needs it. Who knows, you may feel better improving a life rather than taking one apart. American society needs to realize that the job of teaching holds very real dangers. While we must continue to fight to keep such freedoms as the right to speak, we must remember that freedom comes with consequences.

Think before you speak and help before you hurt.

Balancing the Ordinary Bitterness.

I had one of those class sessions where I leave grinning. Then, I realize that I smile after this class on a regular basis. The students in this class - not all of them, but many of them - are engaged in the material. They talk so much in this discussion-based class that time flies by and I have to cut them off to keep from going over. They don't always get the material, but a few brave souls ask questions. Some even stay after class to engage me in excited discussion about the day's topic. I even had one student actually read a newspaper article that I emailed her over the weekend.

Yes, I do have a student who has yet to turn in a weekly paper. And there's another who barely shows up to class. But as a whole, the dynamic of this course gives me the feeling of, "This is what makes teaching a pleasure," and it's a feeling that balances out the bitter taste in my mouth that comes during finals.

Where Someone Offers Helpful Advice To Honors Students, or Where Mr. "Never Got Into AP English" Opens Up Some Whup'Ass On Nerds.

Memo to New Honors Students

Welcome to the university. We’re pleased to have such a smart and accomplished group of first-year honors students as members of our academic community. You will already have gone through orientation and received information regarding how to contact the IT help desk, set up appointments with advisors, use interlibrary loan, etc.

The purpose of this memo is to help you get a clue. We recognize that most of your were too busy taking advanced math classes and memorizing long swaths of Atlas Shrugged during high school to have time to develop much in the way of social skills, but remedial action is possible. To that end, we’d like to offer the following pieces of advice:

1. When you are in an honors-only seminar, it is okay to indulge your sense of intellectual superiority and will help you form social bonds with your honors program mates; this does not hold true, however, for classes in which you are thrown in with the hoi polloi of ordinary students. For instance, it is a bad idea to announce loudly on the second day of your psychology class that you are in the honors program. Your fellow students think honors students are spoiled and given advantages not available to other students. Your instructor has probably taught an honors course and so has direct experience of the supersaturated adolescent arrogance endemic to the program. You are going to spend the rest of the semester trying to climb out of the hole you just dug for yourself.


2. When your first-year English professor asks you to do an in-class writing exercise and afterward asks the class what sorts of things they learned, don’t shoot your hand up and respond, “Nothing.” In that same class, when your prof assigns the first essay and discusses various possible rhetorical stances and structures, don’t comment that you find too much structure stifles your creativity. If you make this error, you are going to have to be as profound as Wittgenstein and as masterful a stylist as Conrad for the rest of the term because your papers are going to be graded with a stiletto.


3. It is true that some students on this campus wear their pants at a ridiculously low point on their hips, but that does not mean that you should wear yours north of your navel. Loosen your belt, unclench your jaw and stop rolling your eyes, and enjoy yourself. You can write the Great American Novel or discover the solution to the world’s energy problems next week.

Saturday Free-for-All

Hey, we'd love some old-fashioned smackdowns, quickies, about that one student this semster who is already under your skin. We'll put together a collection of the best for next week. As always, send us your pain here.

• I never thought I would ever write these words but I am giving serious thought to this being my last year of teaching. I believe that my integrity is being compromised when I have to revise my syllabus so that students don't get overwhelmed and bogged down in their course work. Admittedly I am also revising the syllabus to prevent myself from having a coronary from the stress and frustration brought on by students who can't read and can't write...much less exercise their minds with critical thinking.
• I work in a college library, and I have some simple instructions for students: 1) Do NOT come up to me when I hand out the assignment and ask how to find a book. I just spent 20 minutes telling you how to find a book. You are lucky I didn't smack you. "2) Work in pairs" does not mean "work in groups of 8." 3) And finally, if you are looking at the sign that says that P-Z is on the 4th floor, and you have to ask me where Q is, just don't bother. Do they not even teach the alphabet in school anymore?
• I thought I had seen it all. One of my female students had spent part of her day tubing on the river across from the campus with some other students and nearly forgot that she had a pending major exam to take in my class. Realizing that she had no time to go back to her dorm to change, she arrived in my class in her wet bikini, with a Scantron and a pencil in hand. Needless to say, she was quite disruptive to the class. I was quite startled myself. Knowing that our university does not have a dress code (yet), I took the legal-coward route and asked her to take her exam in the adjacent classroom, monitored by one of our proctors…and advised her to go tubing AFTER her exams from now on.
• Here's a great example of contemporary student correspondence:"About the quiz 2. Where is the article for the this quiz i dont think i have that avaliable. Thats why i did bad on the quiz. I know im off on a bad start with my quizzes and i really want to get a good grade in this class. Maybe im doing something wrong. Please reply back ASAP. Thank you Mrs. Professor Lady."
• As an undergrad I also feel your sentiment and disgust for those who come to class and spend more time in Sudoku than paying attention. I also become absolutely annoyed when because of the stupid girl in the second row we all have to hear a clarification of the assignment for the twentieth time. Sometimes, I wish that professors would realize that we, the students, are paying you. The university doesn't get my checks for nothing!
• There are two students in my 3:30 History lecture that seriously do nothing but talk to teach other and goof off in class. Usually the professor just tries to ignore it, but Friday I watched as they received the justice they deserved. After about ten minutes of their constant chatter the teacher finally asked what in the world was so funny and why they seem to always insist on disrupting his classes and lectures with their nonsense. At the end of the very loud and expletive filled speech, he proceeded to kick the couple out of class. At first the whole situation was awkward, but this man should be applauded...honestly. What he did was take control of his classroom and position as a professor. RMP will probably give him hell for it, but I give him 5 stars.

We Guess It's "Book Day" at RYS. Two Correspondents Turns Us On.

While you're talking about books, let me suggest Diana West’s Death of the Grown-Up: How America’s Arrested Development is Destroying Western Civilization as a corrective. It’s provocative and incisive, and will no doubt divide many readers, but it speaks to virtually every person who has accessed RYS from the beginning.

---

Since it's book day, there's one I've been tempted to tell you about, but it's a rare one - an out of print and very pre-PC book called Academic Gamesmanship, a 1970 bitter, cynical non-stop smackdown. How much has changed (particularly views on gender and race) makes even more amazing how much has very clearly stayed the same. I won't try to summarize it or choose any gems here -- there's simply too many to choose from, and selecting a few wouldn't do it justice.

Sort of a Book Review: An Angry Prof is Out $25.

So, a couple of weeks back an RYS poster recommended a book called "What the Best College Teachers Do." I figured, what the hell. I ordered it and finally got around to reading it this weekend (and, yes, students, it is possible to read a book in a weekend - the key is not to move your lips).

Well, what can I say? The following passage did NOT appear in the book but might as well have been:

"One professor who wasn't part of our study complained about a group of students who burned his house down. 'It was pure retaliation,' he said. 'They plagiarized their essays, I failed them, and they burned my house down. My family and I barely escaped with our lives. My fish, unfortunately, were served that night with tartar sauce.' However, the best professors we studied took a very different view of this event. One award-winning professor told us, 'Burning a professor's house down can be a sign from a student that the professor is doing something wrong.

It could be that the professor needs to more clearly communicate his expectations from the very first day. Students sometimes find academic life mystifying. Were they told, specifically, that burning down the professor's house would be considered disruptive? Instead of blaming his students, this professor should invite them to join him on an intellectual journey of discovery; this would suspend the onus on marks, which can lead to resentment and forms of acting out such as plagiarism and arson.' "

This is the kind of book that will appeal to every Rah-Rah Snotface you've ever hated, a book for those professor-cheerleaders who think that the only solution to teaching problems is better teaching, as if the students themselves play no role in their own education.

So, anyway, to the person who recommended the book: thanks, pal. You owe me twenty-five bucks.

Template Hell.

We don't negotiate the Blogger templates very well, and whenever we change formats we get the same emails from readers:

• This is the ugliest template you've ever used.
• This is the best template you've ever used, and I'm going to use it on my Facebook page.
• The font is too dark.
• Good God, man. The font is too light.
• Get rid of the serifs.
• Don't be insane! Please use fonts with serifs.
• The background is too light.
• The background, like your whole life, is too dark.
• I don't like the images.
• I love your images and am getting one tattooed on my buttocks.

It must be said that we want the page to be attractive enough to visit, easy enough to read, and a pleasure to your nether regions. But we simply try to make it look like something we'd visit. If it goes through a phase which you don't like, please know that it will likely take on another - maybe even less appealing - look in the future.

Yours in All Things,

Compound Clyde

The RYS Moderator With A Black Heart

Self-Proclaimed Meanest Prof Ever Offers the Latest Smackdown on Pollyanna-dom.

Dear Poor, Pissed Off, etc.

How much Kool-Aid have you been drinking?

I am sick to death of dopey-ass Pollyannas like you who think that anyone who DARES to have a complaint about the job of college professorship should quit because that will give you a better shot at getting their job.

While Professor Somber may indeed have a stick up his butt because he didn't get the R1 job he wanted, you should consider that many grad students at R1 universities are TOLD BY THEIR MENTORS that they are failures if they don't get similar positions. Maybe Somber wasn't told this blatantly, but it's clear he feels inferior because the job he got is beneath the R1 mentorship model. That's problem #1.

Now let's add in problem #2: his lame-ass students. As you yourself admit, everyone who teaches college seems to experience the ubiquitous, everpresent, infinitely common 13th-graders who populate America's colleges and universities. Instead of sympathizing and offering support or suggestions, what was your response? "Quit." Who are you to judge that? If not for your admission that your MFA only got you a Freshman Comp position [which, let's face it, seems to be the most thankless bitch-job in all college professordom], we both know that when you say "You're taking away a valuable career spot from someone who doesn't resent well-paid positions at piddly 'flyover' schools," you're really thinking that job should go to someone who enjoys the little snowflakes…such as yourself.

Guess what…ain't gonna happen cuz you ain't got the alphabets, dude! While you [and I for that matter] may get term contracts and year-long contracts, we'll never get tenure with a Master's degree [unless we're REALLY lucky]. In fact, at some places, your MFA in poetry wouldn't even get you a Composition class. But you still love teaching. Yeah, cuz mebbe it's either teaching or working at Starbuck's, Mr. MFA? You're "grateful at all for a job, any job…every damn day, for the opportunity to be in the classroom" because it means you don't have to flip burgers or get Professor Somber his Lo-Fat Decaf Latte when he visits your coffee bar. I know it cuz I have those options too.

This is not to dismiss your critique of Professor Somber, who probably really does need to invoke some more energy, if not for himself but for those 3 students in every class who actually care. But then again, I remember reading in his post that he DOES give his all to those precious few; in fact, they may very well be the reason he doesn't join his predecessor's corpse stashed under the desk […cuz, ya know, it's prolly what's causing the smell. Dude, get some Lysol and Mr. Clean and put up a funky poster or some shit.].

And let's dispel the continuation of that tired myth that college professors must love the teaching aspect of the job. Get real and grow up. Just because you bought into this country's myth about the self-sacrificing teacher who gives everything for your students doesn't mean everyone else must. In my experience, and that of *MANY* contributors at RYS, today's college students don't deserve our all because most students don't hold up their end of the bargain. Many of them do NOTHING and then make our lives Hell because we dared to call them on their bullshit. How do you know if a bunch of Somber's 13th-graders haven't intellectually beaten all his energy out of him by now? Be prepared for your little snowflakes to do the same to you soon. Better stock up on Kool-Aid, dude, cuz you'll need a stash while you're finding your next Freshman Comp job after the place you're currently working for decides to hire a PhD to replace you.

Hugs & Kisses,
The Meanest Professor Ever
[at least according to last Spring's 13th-graders]

We Love These Posts That Cast About On An Ocean of Ideas. Float Free, Friend.

I am pleased to say that in my poetry class I have six students that have expressed how they love to read and write poetry. They have already made contributions to discussions that were original and insightful. Of course there are the other thirty in the room, but at least I have six that just might write something worth reading.

I am positive that cell phones ringing in my class will no longer make me suggest the student shove it up the butt crack they show off. Instead, I have given the class permission to point and laugh at the offender. I guess I should say sorry to the little blondie in the third row who missed the first couple classes because her new tattoo was crusty. When the class very politely informed her to, in their words, “grow the fuck up,” she did turn red. But I am positive it was an attractive shade. You see, dear, it even matched the gum you had been chewing with your mouth open.

Even my desk puts me in a positive mood. The outlines are all in neat little piles. The textbooks are lined up according to the order I need them. Not all of them, mind you. But I am positive that when the book rep says that missing book is on the way that it must be true, this time. After all, a book rep wouldn’t lie repeatedly, would she? Besides, I’m positive that the classes I have taught without using a text were just fine. I won’t say what publisher it is, but its initials are Houghton Mifflin.

On the corner of the desk is my little stash of M&Ms right next to a small pile of Academic Dishonesty forms. I’m positive that in a few weeks both will be gone and I’ll be using another stash hidden in the back corner of my file cabinet.

I haven’t even mentioned the item that has me feeling so positive. I just got...wait for it...a 2% raise. Yes, I am now being given the appreciation that I have been waiting for. So let’s all be positive. After all, it’s only September.

Boo! To the Widgets. Someone Updates Us On The Occasional Bouncing Around of an Academic Career.

Last year was the worst of my life. I left a job with you—a top department at a great school—to work for your crosstown rivals (which I wrote about here), who turned out to be selfish, arrogant idiots. And now, I’ve come crawling back like a prodigal son, and like said son’s father, you’ve taken me back with open arms.

Unlike those idiots across town, you’re not trying to quelch my professional development by scheduling absolutely every research seminar and colloquium on top of my classes. (Indeed, you’re actually putting me in charge of organizing one of the research seminars!) And you’ve scheduled me to teach classes in areas I’m actually interested in, and promising to pay me well to do it, too. Now, I humbly ask just one small favor of you: can you please give me my contract for the upcoming year?

You first informed me—unofficially—that I had gotten the position back in June. The search committee had selected me, and it would take only a few days for the rest of the faculty to vote on it. A few days turned into several weeks, and at the end of July I finally e-mailed you to find out what the deal was. Yes, my appointment was approved by the faculty, now it just had to be signed off by the dean. Luckily, I sort of know the dean, so I e-mailed him. He said he was overseas, but reassured me that everything was fine, and that he’d sign off my contract when he got back in late August. Can I please have my contract now?

August came and went, and still no contract. Right before Labor Day, you e-mailed me again: the department was trying to hire me as a visiting professor, rather than an instructor (wow, thanks guys!), but there was one catch: I’d need to scare up two more letters of reference within the week. You’ve known about this appointment since June, and you’re only telling me this NOW? Well, I called in a few favors, and got you the letters. The Dean has signed off on my appointment. But now my dossier has to go through a few more gatekeepers, you tell me. But there shouldn’t be any problems! Meanwhile, it’s already the second week of September. Classes start in two weeks. I’ve ordered my textbooks and written my syllabi. Thanks to administrative inertia, my campus e-mail from two years ago still works, and my inbox is filling up with messages from students wanting to know how to move up the wait list for my class, since I’m already listed online as the official instructor.

I love you dearly. I can’t wait to work with you again. But can you please, please, please give me my *&%$ contract?

Results That Will Shut Some Folks Up.

Very Happy: 33%

Happy Enough: 43%

Barely Hanging In: 18%

Hate It: 3%

One Order of Smackdown For Professor Somber.

Dear "Somber,"

Quit. Holy crap. You're taking away a valuable career spot from someone who doesn't resent well-paid positions at piddly "flyover" schools. Christ, you're miserable; no wonder your students hate your courses.

I'm only a few years into my career, and I suppose I haven't had the opportunities to harden myself into a bitter old crank yet. Perhaps I'm still green with naively annoying optimism, but better that than the sense of entitlement and self-hatred that riddled your letter.

So your friends got better jobs than you? Get over it. I have an MFA in poetry, and you can imagine how useful that is; some of my grad school buddies are unemployed, and some have nice creative-writing-related jobs; meanwhile, I'm "stuck" teaching freshman comp at a huge state school full of dumb 13th-graders. And you know what? I love my job. I absolutely adore it.

Maybe I'm just lucky that my path has led me here, to a course that most other profs hate, but I'm grateful at all for a job, any job, and I'm grateful, every damn day, for the opportunity to be in the classroom.

You're throwing an absurd pity party with your 55-grand-a-year, feeling terribly sorry for yourself and your dashed expectations, giving absolutely nothing to your students and then acting hurt when they give you nothing back.

If you hate your students, YOU ARE IN THE WRONG CAREER. Teaching in the college system should be about TEACHING (as it all too often isn't). I know the students are stupid, believe me. I know the colleagues can be idiots, too. But if you don't love what you do, just take your $55K salary and shove it. Go work on your book, come back to teaching when you're a little less hateful, and let someone who WANTS your job have it.

Love,
Poor, Pissed Off, and Loving What I Do

One Last Crack At Raggedy-Ass.

Dear Raggedy-Ass Student:

You were doing so well with all your talk about taking classes for the sake of learning. You actually showed some promise there for a little while. Then you had to blow it.

You are a legal adult now. If you don't want to go to medical/law/professional school, Mommy and Daddy can't make you. Take some responsibility for your own choices and your future. And give up the psychic shtick because frankly you're no good at it.

You have no way of knowing a damned thing about your professors' "privilege" or lack thereof unless they volunteered that information. Believe it or not, many of us had parents just like yours or even worse. I have colleagues whose upbringing in Third World countries makes your life look like Paris Hilton's by comparison. Did any of those analytical skills you claim you learned in college teach you not to judge people based on their race, ethnicity, current social class, and culture?

The beauty of the American higher education system is that it provides opportunities for everyone, regardless of social, economic, and political conditions. This is your opportunity.

So please stop emailing your professors to grub for grades and get off the cross. Winter's coming, and we could use the wood for the fireplace.

A Few Weeks Into a Sabbatical, One of Our Correspondents Is Already Missing It!

I was so looking forward to a full semester off.

No stupid sheep students, no administrative bullshit, no academic committees, no book reviews or selections...no official functions to attend. Nor would I have to hike across the acres of faculty parking (helpfully moved to the outskirts of campus, to help our cardiovascular health) or wade through the muddy hinterlands of back campus.

An entire semester of (cue William Wallace), "Freeeeeeedoooooom!" To actually read for pleasure, to write for publication and/or fun...to relax.

Three weeks after the start of semester, and I miss it.

I miss the vacant-eyed hordes of Students of the Living Dead, slouching their way through hall and class.

I miss the eye-wateringly stupid questions --most of which were addressed on the syllabus or in class previously.

I miss my office -- with its piquant odor of mold, dusty books and stale floor polish. I miss its eclectic decoration, including the Culturally Sensitive bong my brother sent back from his tour of the mid-east.

I miss snarking with (or, more frequently, AT) my colleagues. Comparing notes on slackers and unbelievable excuses from other faculty and students alike. Gossiping about various administrators and their proclivities.

I even miss the absolute bitch in the Registrar's Office who has been there since she quit being the Baby Jesus' babysitter.

Everything is remembered through the rose-colored glasses of NOT having to answer inane, poorly-spelled and punctuated e-mails. Of not hearing lame-assed, bullshit excuses for absence or late/missing work, or getting a last-minute proctoring assignment or committee seat..

Hopefully, January 2008 will dawn with a renewed sense of cynicism and sarcasm. However, for now, the Ivory Tower is a heaven-kissed summit of nostalgia.

Someone Tells Raggedy To Give a Shit About His Own Education, and To Leave the Parents Out Of It.

What's to be done about unreasonably demanding parents who deploy their children as pawns in their relentless grade-grubbing game? Let's begin by clarifying the key terms of the educational equation. I am the teacher; you are the student. I assign the work; you complete the work. You submit the work; I assess the quality of the work and record the grade that measures your performance against a standardized average. Note that your parents are not part of that equation. They may form a significant part of the fabric of your life, but they play no direct role in the educational transaction. So let me be clear: unless your parents are themselves enrolled in my class, I don't care about what they want.

I do, however, care about what you want, and here's where your message confuses me. I know a lot about what your parents want for you: high GPA and admission to an unnamed (but presumably prestigious) med/law/business school. But I don't know if that's what you want for yourself. Your GPAnxieties would seem to revolve about how your parents might punish you rather than your possible professional future. This is your education for your life: take responsibility for both. By all means sit down with me to discuss your performance in my class and to plot strategies for achieving your own educational goals. But don't come slinking into my office to beg for a grade your parents want you to have.

A Righteous Call to Arms, Designed to Strengthen the Will of Anyone Who Feels They're Doomed to Be Crappy!

How very gracious of you to deign to teach at a school so clearly beneath you! Your teaching skills -- which are doubtless stellar and full of verve and personality -- must be pearls before so many swine! I don't know how you manage.

Okay, look. Your former classmate's students at Princeton? They'd do okay whether he was teaching them or not. I'm sure they say witty things and dress nicely, but they don't need him. Not nearly as much as the handful of interesting students at your school need you. His students are there because they had the money and/or connections to get into Princeton. They're already motivated; they've had all the preparation their parents could afford. The majority of your students are there, I'd wager, because of financial need. They couldn't afford to go to private schools or take an SAT review course or anything like that. Are they inherently dumber than the people at Princeton? Not necessarily. I'm sure your former classmate has quite a few students coasting on money or family legacy. And with ivy-league egos to boot. The best students in your class haven't had the opportunities his best students have had; if they did, they might be at Princeton themselves.

So are you going to be their opportunity or not? Are you going to reach out to them or are you going to make a damn sandwich? You have the opportunity to change lives, an opportunity -- irony of ironies -- you might not have if you were teaching at a more prestigious school. Or maybe you're right. Maybe they're just dumb, and they deserve to be attending a crappy school. I guess they're getting the teachers they deserve, then.

A First Time Poster Confesses A Visit To the Site That Shall Not Be Named.

I did something really mischievous today (yes, definitely a dark moment ;) ) - I visited RMP (the other site). Now, PLEASE: before you permanently ban me from RYS, hear me out. I need some advice, & some reassurance that RMP is complete nonsense.

After numerous threats from good friends to investigate my professors before semester starts (because... god knows the sky will collapse or something), I finally cracked and checked out RMP, and here's what I found out:

Differential equations: to be taught by two professors;

First: An exceptional intellectual with countless publications, is extremely passionate about his research, is also willing to help students; BUT (here's the catch) according to almost all of the student ratings, he prefers science major students over the engineering students. Hmm...I would disregard this, but it does make one slightly anxious given that I'm an engineering major.

*SIDE NOTE: I can't seem to pronounce his name right (a lot of others in the same boat); so now I'm slightly more anxious;

Second prof (she only has M.Sc. & B.Ed., so the university considers her a "second-class" professor): I had this professor for freshmen calculus, & she is truly extraordinary (no, really believe me! she would pretty much move mountains to motivate students); which is why it's puzzling to see a down spiral trend in her score card.

I saw her on campus today, she looked a little melancholy...

Electronics & Discrete Mathematics:

Despite the fact that they both have been teaching at the university for a number of years, they have no reviews. No one cared. That can be good news I guess.

They both uploaded their syllabus, announcements, & notes early through WebCT, so I'm going to take that as a good sign. The discrete math professor was even courageous enough to upload her picture :)

JAVA programming:

Nothing new here: hard prof, marks hard...(large)% of students dropped his course, etc, etc. That's OK though, I've been practicing all summer, so bring on the challenge!

Political Science:

Not even listed in RMP, not much information on the university website either. Should I add her? I'm going to hope she's like the political science professor mentioned in an earlier post - "hip and funny."

So, that's it. I didn't really learn anything, other then that I now feel quite dreadful. You know, there really should be some official student guide to understanding potential professors one will have and how to write constructive student evaluations as well. Any words of wisdom from the RYS compound? What fraction of appreciation for university studies is attributed to outstanding teaching by dedicated professors?

Another Student Speaks Up: Throw that PhD Around Like it Means Something.

All of this "earnestness" about your profession is making me gag. As an undergrad, I want to know that I'm not the only one fed up with my peers. They can be stupid, slothful, selfish bastards. What is tenure for, if not to call these kids out on their b.s.? These "future leaders" couldn't put together a cogent thought if you held a gun to their head, and everyone is supposed to pat them on the back as long as Mom and Dad's tuition check clears the bank? You have a Ph.D., for chrissakes, so throw it around like it means something.

I lose a lot of respect for professors who don't stand up for themselves. Make these morons get their feet off the desk, put away the iPod, bring paper and pencil to class, eat their three-course meal before coming to class, crack the book every other day, and pay fucking attention -- or get out of the room. I'm tired of taking dumbed-down tests or having to listen to the same lecture about how to write a thesis statement or use citation styles.

Tell them that you're docking their grade every time they ask if something is going to be on the test, that sitting upright and breathing doesn't earn extra credit points, and that they shouldn't have signed up for college if they didn't intend on reading anything other than highway signage, tv listings, or drive-thru menus.

Tell them that this class is relevant to their major because it requires them to think critically, write coherently, meet clear expectations of an authority figure, and show up at a designated place at a predetermined time -- all things they can apply to their desired career, even if they'll never again have to solve a differential equation or care about Plato's definition of justice.

Tell them that it's not your problem they've made life choices (children, mortgage payments, etc.) that hamper their ability to complete assignments. Remind them of other students who've made different choices (like jumping into the deep end of student loans and Ramen noodles) to be here and aren't asking for favors, so maybe we should all be adults and suck it up.

This site makes me feel like I'm not the only one -- but if I am, I need to reserve my padded room now.

A Self Professed Raggedy-Ass Student Sends In His Apology, Or His Condemnation - It's Hard to Tell For Sure.

Okay, let me admit that I was one of those students who emailed professors asking if they could bump up my grade by one mark so that I could reach the next GPA bracket. No, I didn't raise any hackles during the course. I studied hard, I did my work. I might have missed more than a few classes but I'll get to that later.

Frankly, I never cared about the grade. Not at all. I really attended classes to learn and, in most of your classes, I did. I learned things that truly changed my outlook on the world -- like that course on the politics of third world countries that shattered so many of my ignorant preconceptions; or that course that made me appreciate the human body more -- like that fantastic course in anatomy and histology.

In some of them -- neoconservative political theory -- I didn't get what I expected in terms of a learning experience but I did my best to engage your lackluster texts and your esoteric, narrow-minded and boneheaded focus. In any case, I learned a lot, and regardless of whether I enjoyed or hated the process I damn well engaged with it to the best of my ability.

But there's this little problem I have. My parents. And my parents want me to get into medical/law/other professional school. And for that, I need a godforsaken GPA of X.XX. It doesn't matter that my overall percentage is fantastic, it doesn't matter that I tried hard and truly wanted to learn, it doesn't matter that I'm more involved in student life and in the university community than some socially-awkward geek sitting in a lab, it doesn't matter that I'm in the 99th percentile of the MCAT/LSAT/etc. None of that matters because my GPA is in the dumps. And because of that my parents will kill me or disown me or something like that.

I didn't want to email you to grub for grades. Nope, not at all. I sat there for several hours mulling over how to word my e-mail requesting a meeting to discuss my grades because I didn't want you to think that that's what mattered. When you replied saying there was nothing you could do, I was actually apathetic because I didn't care about my GPA -- but terrified because of what my parents would do. And that, by the way, is part of the reason why I missed so many of your classes -- because my life at home is remarkably messed up.

But in any case, my email made you think I was just another grade-grubbing hack. And, indeed, when they looked at my grades, my parents did precisely what I expected them to do. And more than the anger, it's hard to deal with the disappointment. But I reckon that most of you don't understand that. Because most of you, in fact, are quite privileged. Your class, your race, your ethnicity, your culture, all of that screams to me that you're privileged and that you wouldn't, not really, understand what on earth I, and several other students like me, are going through.

So at the end of the day, you'll wail about students who only want grades and nothing but grades and who treat university like a factory, but you'll ignore the social, economic and political conditions -- starting with the way your university is structured (but the governance of which you try to avoid like the plague) -- that make this sad phenomenon a reality. And, believe it or not, some of that kind of analysis is precisely what I learned to do because of, or in spite of, your classes. So, really, practice what you preach.

A Reply to a First Time Job Seeker.

“It’s a loss of innocence, of sorts. Can I ever get it back?”

As it happens, I have been teaching Blake’s Songs of Innocence & Experience this week. Blake’s answer to your question would be, “No, you can’t get it back, but why would you want to?” Oh great, answering a question with a question, I hear you say. Not to mention channeling a writer who has been dead for, oh, 175 years or so.

I’ve been teaching for twenty-five years. (I have tenure at a moderately selective private college.) There are no guarantees, of course, but you sound like a perfectly good prospect for any number of decent academic jobs. I was on a search committee for a Literature position last year. The position was approved late and we were afraid we’d have a weak – and small – pool of applicants. As it turned out, we got about seventy-five applications, at least half of which were appropriate for the job. The other half really did not fit the job description we had published and apparently were just using a shotgun approach. If the job is in 19th century British Lit and you mostly did the American Transcendentalists (yeah, I know, nobody does them anymore) but also took a seminar in Wordsworth, you are just not going to be hired. Don’t waste your time. Don’t waste our time. (Departments have a responsibility, by the way, to write job descriptions that actually describe the job.) Applicant files that come in late in the process have a much worse chance of being taken seriously: Check the joblists regularly and get your file off quickly. It may sit on a secretary’s desk for a while, but it will be complete and in the file box when a member of the hiring committee comes in on a weekend to begin reading files.

Anyway, back to my department’s recent position: Working separately, the three members of the committee (an assistant, an associate and a full prof) read all of the application files and made notes. When we got together with our rough lists of best applicants there was a remarkable amount of overlap. Any of them could have done the job. This may sound very basic, but the key thing that all the top applicants shared was that they had responded specifically to our job announcement. The cover letters described specifically how the applicant’s training and experience fit the statements in the job description. We asked for a statement of teaching philosophy: each of the top files had one. The letters of reference or placement files arrived in time for us to read them with the rest of the file. You may not believe this, but as I read the files, I always started out rooting for the applicant. I wanted each of them to get the job and was disappointed when a cover letter or a c.v. or teaching statement faltered and I had to move the applicant down my evolving list. I also kept a copy of our job announcement on my desk to remind me to stay focused.

So what happened? Our top candidate took another job before we could invite her for an interview. We brought the next two candidates to campus for interviews. Our second choice withdrew and took a job outside academia. We hired the third person on our list. We would have been happy with any of the top ten. That fact could be either comforting to the person just going on the job market, or terrifying, I suppose, depending on how one frames it. Contingency is ever present. Why did the hiring committee like Dr. Able a little more than Dr. Baker? Hard to say, just a feeling. You cannot do anything about that, but you can do something about all those other things. And that means you have some control over the process.

It is painful to be ejected from the garden into the world of experience. But who would want to remain a child forever? To quote God, from the 2nd chapter of Genesis, “You will earn your living by the sweat of your brow.” Thorns, snakes, bullshit & search committees. And if you’re willing to adjunct for a decade – you do love teaching, don’t you? – I’ll be retiring. Just kidding. This is RYS, after all.

Can You Feel the Excitement? A Somber Reply to Our Recent Call for Posts.

I like the idea of reporting on the state of my job.

I'm in my fourth year of a tenure track spot in the humanities in a large state school in a dull flyover state. I ended up here because I couldn't get a job at the kind of school I graduated from (top 20 R1). I resent this place even though it's been kind enough to me. My grad school buddies all did better than I did, and I've stopped keeping in touch with them. One of them went right to Princeton. He's dead to me now.

My colleagues are okay. I have a guy across the hall who fancies himself my mentor, but really he's just a happy drunk who loves everyone when he has a snoot-ful, which is pretty much every Thursday afternoon through Monday morning. The woman next to me thinks I'm a child and treats me like one. She tells me if I've parked the wrong way in the faculty lot, or if I miss my office hours by 90 seconds or more. I once was afraid of her, of what she'd do to me, but then I realized she's powerless. She tells me about the newer faculty, too, what's wrong with them. But really, I don't see many of my colleagues except for the idiotic meetings where I mostly just snooze and think about changing my backhand to something with more topspin.

My students are dull and dumb, half loaded on diet pills and Mountain Dew. They hate my classes and me, and I hate them back with white hot passion. They are dumber than I can even explain, but there are usually a handful of them who are interesting enough to get me through a semester.

My office stinks like old man, and I'm not one. I like to think the person before me must have died in here, but I've never heard the tale. I have a lot of empty shelves because I hate working here. I have an office set up at home, and it would never occur to me to come to school to grade or work or write. I come here to teach and then to use the bathroom between classes. My office is a place where I can close the door occasionally and wonder why I didn't take my dad up on buying into his paper company. Oh, and I meet students in here sometimes, but the smell is so bad I prefer not to.

I don't have a name plate on my office door, and I don't post office hours. I keep them, and I tell my students, but it's not public info, so there you go.

I eat at the cafeteria every once in a while. It's a big enough school that I usually don't see anyone I know.

It sounds a little desperate and depressing, but it's just a job, you know? I have a rich life at home, a partner, 2 cats, a car, some hobbies, a big bottle of beer every now and then. We love the outdoors so do a lot of that. And they pay me exactly $55,750 for a job that I'm good enough at not to get fired from.

I still love my own work, and write a lot when I'm not in class. I published two peer-reviewed articles in the past year, and have a book that will probably eventually land at some university press. It will get me to tenure, and then beyond that, who knows?

Right at this minute a student is lurking in the hallway. The semester is new enough that he probably doesn't know if he can just walk in, call my name, or maybe try knocking. I could look at him and offer a hearty howdy. But in 5 more minutes my office hour is up, and there's some nice pastrami at home I'd like to get after.

You Lazy Bastards! Recent Poll Results.

We held an emergency meeting at the RYS compound this morning after checking out the recent poll results. There was gnashing of teeth, noshing of bagels, smashing of ideals.

We are shocked, saddened, enraged, etc. that 68% of our readers have never sent us a damn thing for publication. What are you doing? You're having your fun with us, but never buying us a nice corsage or a minty bottle of cologne? Listen, we're glad you read along. But don't be afraid to play.

We were encouraged, however, to see that only 6% of the folks who have tried to get in have not done so yet. Seriously, we do try to post stuff from folks who are new to us, or who identify themselves as new to us, and it looks like we've done a pretty good job of that. If you haven't made it in yet, it's probably one of two things: 1) you've sent us something about an issue that's been hammered to death, or 2) what you send is just too short to stand alone. We occasionally post tiny bits in a group, but 250 words is sort of a minimum for us. And, if you've not been published here before, make a note of it the next time you send us something.

Finally, 10% of readers have had more than one thing posted here, and another 13% has at least gotten onto our page one time. That's encouraging, we think. RYS is what you make it. Sure, we handle the actualization, the maintenance, the filing, the dusting, the bringing of orangeade and scones. But it's the readers who have their feet up on the desk in the corner office, charting the course.

So, what do you want to say?

Bullshit Meters Are Blowing Up - With an Update

We've received a flood of brief notes about a recent posting on student email. Here are two that get to the heart of the matter:

I don't know where this student goes or where she/he is hiding, but out of the many, many emails I have already received this semester none of them could possibly have taken more than one minute to write.

And if they're checking with their friends, well, they need new ones. This is most representative of the emails I receive:

hey, wht r the pgs for the reading tomorrow? I
can't find it!!!! does the reponse
really gotta be 2 whole pgs. i don't think i
can wrte that
much....

---

Whomever this student is that says he or she drafts emails and his or her friends do the same must be going to school in the land of Oz or in some kind of delusional state of reality because I can tell you from the MANY schools I both taught at and attended, I was happy to get some barely LITERATE messages so I could manage a response.

Don't address me as “DUDE” or “HEY.” Don't demand something that has either been a) covered in class already, b) is in the damn syllabus, or c) is not something I can help you with (I don’t know why your iMac won’t print your paper…CALL TECH SUPPORT. )

And the “text-ese” has got to stop. I did not go to school to learn to do cryptology. It won’t make a finger break off to SPELL THE WORDS OUT!

Oh yeah, and while we’re talking about email, I don’t know who hotsexybeotch@hottiemail.net is. You need to tell me WHO you are, WHICH class you’re in, and WHAT your question is. I have a couple hundred special snowflakes in several different classes so just saying, “HEY! idk hw to do assn! HELP PLZ ASAP!” doesn’t help me answer you. On top of that, STOP SHOUTING AT ME!!!!!!! I respond better to normal tones or even expensive gifts, but yelling doesn’t do anything but piss me off me hotsexybeotch!

So, whatever kind of crack this guy is on needs to be handed out at the beginning of every class!

Finding the Perfect Pitch Between "Dearest Honorable Master," and "Yo, Teacher Dude!"

Hopefully I can add the student side of the email problem.

I know that for me and most of my friends at our small liberal arts college, emailing professors is incredibly difficult. We will spend half an hour carefully drafting, rewriting and editing a simple request to, say, set up an appointment outside of office hours. And then we hit send, knowing that we probably still did something wrong.

There's a lot to be anxious about when emailing someone in a position of power over you. You don't want to be too informal, because the prof might find it insulting. Too formal, and you're a suck up. Most students want to have a good working relationship with their professors. So we stress out over emails. Obviously, some don't. But that perfectly polite email you've just received from a student? Odds are that they didn't just write, hit spell check, and send. It was probably an extensive process, maybe even including a consultation with a friend. So if you think an email skews a little too far in one direction or another, cut the student some slack.

And oh yeah - please reply at some point during the semester. Or at least have the decency to act a little embarrassed for never getting back to us.

An Academic Outsider Gets Real About Email Communication.

Email is used for business all the time, both intra- and inter-office. Professors aren't doing their students any favors by letting them think that spelling and grammar don't matter in email.

The professor-student relationship may eventually become social, but it shouldn't start that way, so don't mislead students into thinking that email to you is governed by the same rules as text messages to their pals. Make that clear at the start and then stick to it.

One of the points this poster keeps making is that students do better with bright-line rules, and that's right. So make one: everything submitted to a professor in writing, be it email or term paper or exam booklet, should follow the rules of (American) English grammar and spelling to the best of the writer's ability. Period. Those of us in the world outside academia will thank you for it when we're thinking of hiring one of your little darlings.

Poll Trouble

In the past we've heard from a number of folks who aren't able to vote in our polls. Many folks who use feeds (RSS, etc.) don't even see the poll. And a number of Firefox users tell us that they vote, but when they come back they think their vote has not been counted or kept. (During the early stages of a vote this is not so hard to check.)

So, polling isn't working great. However, we just use it for fun and for some very general sense of things, so not to worry. We usually only run them for short periods of time because they do take up a fair amount of the top of the page, and usually we're so damned excited about folks reading the posts that we just write down the tally in the compound log, and then zap the poll into the ether.

Where Someone Offers Some Sterling Smackdown, And Chronicles Her Students and Their "Albums of Failure."

To the dullard in the back row: If I find you catching flies with your mouth again, I am personally going to pop a paper wad into the yawning vacuum!

To Ms. M: You make me uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that you came up and shook my hand and said "Thank you" on the first day of class. Weird. Maybe it's the fact that your head nods yes and your mouth smiles after everything I say when your eyes so very clearly yell, "I don't get it!" I am strongly suspicious that you will become that student at the end of the semester who argues so passionately and so unconvincingly as to why your B+ is really an A.

To the row of future fast food managers: Aggressive apathy does not equal participation. Nor will resentful glares at both me and the material help you understand either thing. It will, however, make you wonderful middle manager when you decide in about a year that college just isn't "your thing." Dudes.

To A: I find it a sad omen of things to come that when I lobbed you the softball of writing an introductory assignment using your own opinion, you promptly went and plagiarized an entire web page. This does not bode well. However, dropping the news to you in a cheery and enthusiastic voice in order to watch the color drain from your face when you were oh-so busted was quite delightful.

To the Repeat Offenders: I don't know why some other instructor failed you the first time (or two) around. But I can certainly posit why I probably will. When you can't manage to come to class when class has barely even begun, giggle at your fellow losers, chew on your pencil instead of applying it to page, talk in a loud mock whisper as though I can't hear,and/or sleep in class....well, you get the picture. You obviously have already framed some of them from previous semesters. Get ready to add one more photo to your Album of Failure.

Some Grad Student Somewhere Has No Idea We All Hate Her. Or She Probably Does and Revels In It. Mostly, We're Just Bummed About Britney.

Our weekend hits keep rising, approaching weekday numbers. This has not always been the case, and it's really putting a major-league cramp into our drinking, smoking, tennis playing, child rearing, did we mention drinking, etc.

Now we're finding the need to post on the weekend, and there was a time when we just slothed it from Friday morning until Monday noon, never even thinking of the glowing box and its need to be fed. Still, it's Sunday night, and before we drown ourselves in 900 thread count Egyptian sheets (which are in every suite here at the RYS compound), we feel compelled to check on you guys. (Plus, it's hard for us to sleep after the lackluster and sad Britney performance at the MTV Video Music Awards. We were pulling for the kid.)

So, here are some excellent comments about the new assistant prof who was getting ready to open a can of whup'ass on her grad student nemesis. That post generated a ton of mail, and we've picked out the three best pieces. Please to enjoy:

• Your dilemma is partly a symptom of a weird double-standard: things that one might find intolerable in undergrads become somehow tolerable in grad students. I've never understood it, but it seems to be the case. We expect grad students to hold themselves to certain standards, but we're reluctant, often, to insist. They come in late - class can't begin without them, right? They come back late from a break - things can't resume without them, right? I've even had grad students show up for class minus notebooks and writing instruments. (Why are they in grad school? It's easier than facing reality.) You wouldn't tolerate in an undergrad the nastiness you describe, right? So don't tolerate it in a grad student either. Sink the bitch, pronto.


• NO serious grad student should be like that. The fact that you've met a grad student who's senior enough to be a "Queen Bee" and yet naive enough to think it's even remotely acceptable to talk smack to faculty ... well. And being ignorant of what it takes to get a tenure-track job these days? The sheer level of stupidity fills me with horror. Well... actually, it doesn't. Because it means, other things being equal, she's less likely to succeed in those faculty job interviews. Leaving more chances for those of us who know that in the current job market - across all fields - a tenured position at Eastern Nowhere U. is something of a desirable result. Of course, it'd be nice if we could all get tenure at our dream institution. But, these days, getting tenure *anywhere* is only for the extremely fortunate. Whether one got one's diploma from Harvard or a tiny college that nobody has ever heard of is utterly beside the point.


• Cut the disingenuous self-effacing blather and admit that you've answered your own question in the affirmative: If she sneers at your publication record, what about hers, if it even exists? Ignore the class envy reflex - nobody does anything but waste time with the "My blue collar background can shove your silver spoon up somewhere it can fit all too well" shtick, so why should you? Spill more ink, get more editorial referees on your side, dash those lines on your vita with impunity, and rejoice in it all. The acid test in our profession is still publish-or-perish. You take care of the former, and the latter will fall to those who have begged for it. You're already on the way!

A New Assistant Prof Runs Up Against Her First Grad Student Nemesis - And the Gloves Are About To Come Off.

Hail-fellow Well Met talks about the difficulties and struggle for legitimacy that many grad student instructors face. I feel for you, my comrade. I remember, acutely, comments from students about how I was "just" a grad student.

I wish I could tell you that this is gets better. I think it does, eventually, for graybeards. Virtually all the women I know still have undergrads who treat them like "what could YOU possibly know?" So the legitimacy ship does not sail into your harbor just because you are no longer a grad student.

Now, I get comments from grad students about how I am "just" an assistant professor. In fact, I have moved recently to a very prestigious research institution to find that I am facing a ringleader, a Queen Bee in the graduate students, and I have to say this out loud: she's officially pissed me off. Although I am usually a rather easy-going (nah, almost inert) person in the temper department, this student has finally managed to ruffle my feathers to the point that if there is any possible way for me to ruin her day, even in one small, tiny way, I shall.

From dissing my alma (a public university) in front of me to sneering at my publication record, she has announced war between us for reasons I fail to comprehend. Lip curled, eyes challenging, I've had to sit through statements such as "So, you're the *famous* Dr. Whozit, hunh?" WTF is wrong with you, kid? How am I supposed to respond to that in a way that doesn't make me sound like an either: a) a conceited ass, or b) a falsely modest conceited ass?

Usually, I would chastise myself for my petty little thoughts of revenge. Submarining a grad student would be both wrong and petty, and in general I endeavor to be neither. But when I have done nothing, said nothing, worn nothing--anything--that might indicate anything other than a benign desire that students do well and my reward is this kind of shit, the gloves are starting to come off. I know in my heart these are empty threats. I am not the type to take revenge on a student, but the fantasies I am having are extremely gratifying.

I know why she's so pissed. My parents were poor; I went public school all the way. How dare I have the nerve to work my way into this position over her? She's afraid she's going to wind up teaching at Eastern Nowhere University, and statistically she's right, she just might--if she's fortunate. Common sense would tell her to get to know me, to figure how I got out of Eastern Nowhere University and back to Snooty Uni level, but she's not working out of common sense. She's working from envy and fear, two things that grad school breeds like bacteria, and in the meantime, I guess I get to enjoy being the object of it all.

Whee.

A Student Reader Gives Us Some Perspective On the Grooming And Behavior Patterns of the Typical Undergrad.

I was one of the narcissistic, self-absorbed college students that graced hallways of a major university not long ago, and I find it completely interesting how many academic professionals feel harshly about students' habits or traits - mainly attire.

As a post-grad, I do understand the importance of dressing to succeed and understand that one's wardrobe can speak for them, but these are young kids still. They are completely and utterly naive. And excited. And away from home for the first time (for the most part). Most of their parents were probably so strict and over-bearing that you can't really blame these students for going "ape-shit" over having the first real freedom of their lives.

Is their attire to your 8:00 a.m. class really that detrimental to their learning? Yes, we want people to shower, not wear the same shirt from the previous night's bar, and of course, taking 5 minutes to change from PJ pants into jeans won't kill them. But they aren't going on an interview; they are there to learn. Yes, studies show those who dress the part learn the part, I give you this.

What do you think we as students were thinking about you, "crazy life-size-ceramic-apple-necklace lady"? Or what about that professor that comes in without shaving underneath her arms, refuses to wear deodorant and absolutely loves shirts with no sleeves (black only of course). Really, no deodorant? We are in a very small room in a class like that. We might giggle about your attire on our own, but for the most part many don't judge your teaching ability on it. The T.A. that came in everyday, took off her shoes, sat cross-legged on her desk and told us all to get comfortable so we could really talk and get to know what's going on was perhaps my favorite educator of all, I learned the most with that barefoot girl who was no more than 5 years my senior.

Remember, many are scared. The bully in fifth grade that shoved kids in lockers? They were acting out on their own personal inner turmoil. Many of these kids are thrown from being the top of their high school class, or perhaps from a school of 250, into a world of 20,000 students where for the most part, their academic leaders don't care. They are scared and on the other hand thrilled to no longer have mom and dad breathing down their neck.

These are the last four years that young adults have to party it up and enjoy life to its utmost extent - their only responsibility being themselves and their education. Sometimes it just takes a minute for them to find a balance for both. You do get tired of throwing-up, I promise, and I know many of you have been there... I had some pretty cool teachers through my years, I've heard the stories; you can't fool me!.

I am not defending the bad apples. I've seen them, I've hung out with them and I've pretended to think their antics silly behind the scenes while knowing they were wasting valuable time and energy (not to mention thousands of dollars) and would only hurt themselves in the future. Keep that in mind. The girl with the unruly curly hair who doesn't listen to instructions, give her the zero; but remember, eventually THAT is a lesson in its own. Eventually it will continue to happen until "no listen, bad; listen, good" gets into her brain. The guy that drinks all night and can barely keep his head off his desk? Send him home - he'll realize it may not be the best idea as his grades fall.

This is a time of social growth as well as academic. I grew more socially, mentally and academically in my four years than I did throughout any other period. And remember, that their rough exteriors are often hiding a soft, scared center. Those first two years are tough - for everyone. You have every right to moan - I know, we don't make your lives that easy - but know that everything you do does teach us in one way or another.

Of course, if all else fails, you can still come here and bitch. Good luck this semester.

Don't You People Have Jobs?

The results are in on the latest poll. More than three-quarters of the people who answered the poll check this damn site once a day. Talk about the pressure being applied to the admittedly casual and lazy moderators.

Another 16% check it once a week, and then a smattering of folks barely come by to see us at all!

Finally, many folks dislike the polls, saying that their appearance at the top of the page ruins their enjoyment of the postings. And a significant number of folks wrote to say that once they answered the poll, when they came back again, the poll was open for them to vote again. (This shouldn't happen.)

Listen, we didn't invent the software. We can barely operate the giant glowing box through which we access the software. If it doesn't work, blame Blogger. They have thick skin over there.

We Don't Have a FAQ, But If We Did, These Are Entries That Would Likely Appear.

• Who are the moderators? What are their likes and dislikes? Could I send them some chocolate?


• Who started RYS? Is he still alive? Is he still bitter? Is he sweaty?


• Why don't you publish clearer pictures in each post? Why are they sort of arty? Are you nuts? Can't you work Photoshop better than that?


• What gives you the right to rate students? Isn't that what grades are? Don't you know you're terrible assholes for running this site? Can't you see what damage you're doing to our special little snowflakes?


• Why don't you organize this site better? Why don't you use tags or labels? Why are your titles always stupid and too long? What right do you have to make fun of posts that you have decided to publish? Do you think that because I didn't proofread that you should probably do it for me? Why can't I find anything?


• Why are you preoccupied with "breaking the tablet in half"? You use that joke all the time when you think someone is acting as if their medication is not the right dosage? Are you projecting? Are you on some kind of mood elevator? Are you gobbling beta blockers just to keep an even keel? Do you imagine others are, too? Why can't you just mind your own fucking business and break your own tablets in half?


• How come you don't publish my posts? What kind of censorship is that? Are you afraid of my brilliance, my ferocity, my truth?


• How does one become a correspondent? Someone once was a "chief" correspondent; is that better? Are those people your favorites? Why don't you like me as much as them? Do they pay you money? Do you owe them something? Why do they think they're so special? Do they put their status on their CVs?


• How much longer will RYS go on? Isn't it hard to do every day? Isn't it boring to do every day? Don't you get tired of reading the shit that comes in? Why do you use Hotmail for your email account? Do you have something against Yahoo!?

Personally, We Never Have Any Success Dropping "Newton's Laws" On Our Students. Their Mouths Don't Gape Unless They're Yawning.

I occasionally drop into RYS. For me, the pleasure is vicarious. I'm a grad student, but the only teaching I have ever done was as a physics TA in my last year of undergraduate.

I enjoyed that. The kids were the best freshmen in the engineering school, but they had the normal inflated egos, and did not really believe that handwriting should be legible. That lasted one week.

The professor was new in the department, just arrived. He got me as an insurance policy. If his teaching were a disaster, I could hammer enough physics into the students' heads in problem session to salvage the class. The professor was perfectly happy to assign homework, then leave the problem session, the grading, and the post-mortem to me.

The first problem set was illegible, where legible consisted of equations copied from the textbook with numbers plugged in. The average grade was 14/100. In the following problem session, you can imagine how the whining began. It ended suddenly, and for good. One student asked, "So what can we assume?" for I didn't let them quote equations. I answered without thinking, spontaneously, in a surprised tone, "Newton's laws."

There was a moment of silence, of astonishment, even of awe and fear.

The next problem set had a mean score of 45/100. By the fifth, we reached 80/100, and stayed there. By some fearful symmetry, the last day of class I mentioned the grad school applications I had just sent off. There was another shocked, horrified moment of silence. "You're an undergraduate?" one finally managed.

Another Entry Into the "Let's All Communicate Better" Sweepstakes.

After yesterday's post about student email etiquette, we got quite a few notes from folks with suggestions and ideas. The posting below caught our eye, with its authoratative tone (and 1-10 number system!). So we share it with you below:

1. Always sign an email how you wish to be addressed. If you end it with “Regards, Robert,” don’t be surprised when the next email starts with “Dear Robert.” “Prof. R. Jones” or “Prof. Robert Jones” are suited much better, unless you want your students to call you by first name. Some professors like to be called by their first name by email, but not in person – don’t do that. It’s either one or the other.


2. Make it clear when students can expect a response to their message, preferably at the start of the semester. Email communication isn’t for urgent requests, students may just have to wait 48 hours. Also indicate if you’re responding to emails on weekends or not. Some people don’t mind things that can be answered quickly and just leave longer emails for Monday. Absolutely don’t let yourself be pressured into responding “asap.”
   
3. If you’re not available for some time (vacation, or you just don’t want to be bothered) set an auto-response in your favorite e-mail program. While a quick reply is of course never guaranteed, it’s nice to know if the other person won’t see it for a week.


4. E-mails are informal. Sadly, some people consider this an excuse to disable the spell-check in their email program, but there’s nothing we can do about it. If you understand what the other person wrote, consider yourself lucky and ignore the spelling.


5. It’s an e-mail, not a lecture. Keep your responses short and to the point. You shouldn’t have to waste your time writing a novel and the other person shouldn’t have to read two pages to get the answer. If you feel the matter would be better discussed in person, say so and have the student show up for office hours. If you get a wall of text as an email, copy your students’ desire for abbreviations: “TL;DR” for “too long; didn’t read”


6. Set up an email signature with your office hours and the location of your office. Don’t include your favorite inspirational quotes (especially not if there’s more than one!) and – please – don’t include any images. It’s not a problem to download those on the campus network, but try downloading that 400kb image on your mobile, repeatedly.


7. Never ignore a student email, no matter how ridiculous it is. Not responding is akin to hanging up the phone without saying anything, except the other person won’t know if you have even received the mail. If you’re asked where book X can be bought, tell them to check the university bookstore. Some universities have an online system through which students can order all the books for their classes – if yours has that, point them there. (many people don’t know that’s available) Worst case, tell them you can’t help with that.


8. Email programs support an “urgent” or “high importance” flag. If you use it for all of your messages, it defeats the point. This, in my experience, is mostly an issue with correspondence from the administration, but some professors are guilty of it as well. If there’s something happening two weeks from now and you don’t require a response, don’t use the flag.


9. Don’t include a request for a “read notice,” unless it’s critical you know when the person read it. (in which case a phone call would likely be more appropriate) It’s the ultimate “asap,” except you can’t even pretend you only just read the email that evening. Make sure you set your email program to not automatically accept these receipt requests, as students may use them as well.


10. I don’t have a number 10, so this one I dedicate to the English teachers/professors out there: If you have any time in your class available at all, dedicate it to proper email etiquette – for all our sakes. It appears that at least some students don’t know that what they’re doing annoys the rest of us, maybe they’re not yet beyond hope. There are plenty of resources online, including a short guide on Microsoft’s website.

We Always Love the Give and Take of An Email Exchange. Of Course Sometimes It's Just Too Much. We've All Had This Student, Right?

Hi this is m--- f--- from your mon and weds 2:45-4:05 class i know there is a quiz on weds but is it on the 2 essays or is it both the essays and the chapter we red for today. Please get back to me asap so i know what to study.

******

Dear Mr. F---,
Please read the attached article [“To: Professor@University.edu, Subject: Why It's All About Me"] and then try your email again.
Yours,
B--- T---

******

Dear prof T---,
I get your point in the email. I still would like to meet with you to discuss the 2 atrictles and there meaning to the course work. I want to start off with a good grade so i would appreciate it if we could meet sometime this week to discuss the articles. Thanks
From,
M--- F---

******

Dear M---,

Thank you for your message. 1) You should always proofread your emails to your professors, especially if you want to get a great start to the semester as you have stated. There are at least five typos in your recent message. This is far more than a university student should allow in an email to a professor if he or she wants to be taken seriously as a student. 2) Unfortunately, I do not have office hours between now and Wednesday, and do not have additional times to meet because of the holiday. You are welcome to come by Wednesday morning from 9-10 to discuss any of the readings. Hope to see you then,
B--- T---

******

Dear prof T---,
Hi this is M--- F--- I know you said the 2 essays were going to be on the quiz on weds but iam not sure if you also said that what we covered in class will also be on the quiz. So if you could please email me back asap so I can get a good grade on the first quiz. Thanks

From,
M--- F---

******

Dear M---,
I appreciate your concern for getting a good grade. However, your refusal to pay attention to my prior messages on the correct conduct for sending emails to your professors does not provide me with much incentive to continue responding to them.

B--- T---

Mild Martin Answers The Call - Introduce RYS Around

I'm Martin, an Economics assistant prof at a mid-sized liberal arts college in the northeast. I don't consider myself an avid or rabid reader of this site. I'm mildly amused by it at times, but generally feel pieces go overboard.

But, as you requested a few days ago, I'll play your game. I picked three of my favorite RYS posts, and put them on my own faculty website, and then went and visited some colleagues near my office.

First, here are the links I selected:

Fake Evaluation Instructions

Rock Star Student

Mascot Ate My Homework

Philosophy Prof - 40ish, nebbish, but nice: He had heard of RYS because a student had brought it up during a discussion of illogical syllogisms (I don't know any more details). My prof buddy had not been to the site, but I had him click on my page and he did chuckle at the Rock Star student post. "I've had this guy, I swear," he said. We did talk specifically about the need to vent and rant and so on. "I don't know if I'd be comfortable saying what I really think of my students to anyone, certainly not in print," he said.

Political Science Prof - early 30s, hip and funny: She had not heard of RYS, but as I was talking about it she googled it and found it. She read today's posting and said, "I like this post. When I went on the job market I felt like I had prepared for years to be a scholar, and then I was being asked to be a vacuum salesman or something." She skipped around the site some more and said, "A lot of this stuff could actually be turned into articles, if the writers really wanted to take their minor frustrations out for a drive."

English Prof - early 60s, lovely mentor to many: She only uses the Internet to email grandkids and so on, but knew what Rate My Professors was, and was interested to hear about RYS. She loved the mascot posting, and told me a few student excuse whoppers of her own. "In my first position," she said, "there was a faculty lounge where we all gathered on and off during the day. There was a percolator and tea bags and someone usually brought some muffins or tarts. We'd sit there between classes or instead of office hours and talk about how our students were driving us batty. This is the same thing, I guess, but for the technological age."

Turning What We Love Into Something To Sell

I plan to start the job search this semester, and I'm already filled with dread. The dread hasn't just begun now, of course. Since the beginning of my MA program, I was told there were no jobs, I'd be lucky to get something at a community college, I'd never see a tenure-track position.

Still, I love teaching and I love writing and literature, and that's been enough to see me through. That and continually putting intermediary steps between myself and the job at the end of it all.

No more steps, though. Here the job looms. Or the job search, should I say, since I'm not at all optimistic about my chances of actually getting anything. I've done all I can do. I've taught well and gotten good evaluations. I've published in a number of good places. I'll have very favorable recommendations. I can speak well about my work and teaching. But is that enough? For every job to which I'll apply, several hundred other people equally qualified as myself will also apply. How can I possibly be better than all of them? Any of them?

It's times like this that I wonder how exactly I've gotten here. I've forfeited my youth to become a writer and to try to convey my love of literature with students who look younger and younger every year. And if it were just about that -- writing and talking with others about what I love -- then it's been worth it. But of course it's not just about that. It's about turning what I love into something I can sell. The professor here in charge of professional development has told me to be honest in my teaching and research statements, but I don't think I can. If I were really honest, my entire teaching statement would be something like: "Please, just hire me! Give me a class and I'll teach it! What do you want me to say??? I'll say it! PLEASE!!"

On my good days, I can pretend pretty well that I have integrity.

I just look around and think my life has been a waste. In the four years I've been here, I've been in one relationship that's lasted a month. All my good friends have already graduated. I have no money. I've published a handful of stories that no one will ever read. And now I face the imminent prospect that all my work will leave me with less than what I already have -- no time to write, no intellectual stimulation, and no one to talk to who cares about anything I care about.

I'm trying to get the bleak out as much as I can. There's plenty left. I want to be able to go into class on Tuesday with the same passion that I always try to have. But I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure that the whole enterprise isn't a huge sham. It's a loss of innocence, of a sort. Can I ever get it back?

Mixed-Up Monday, a Potpourri of Random Bits That We're Too Stupid or Too Lazy to Develop Into Full Posts

• Like clockwork, by the last day of the first week of classes, I have a cold. A nasty, head stuffed, sore-throated, chills and fever cold. Why, oh why can't one of the flip-flop wearing, booty-shorted coeds catch one of these? Why can't a sudden case of laryngitis prostrate that ridiculous frat boy in the third row? Why me? There is one upside, however. It completely wipes out the stress of the first week. Being high on Dayquil and Sudafed and large doses of herbal preparations makes everything hazy. And I no longer wish death on those coeds and frat boys; I no longer curse the previous professor who left the dry-erase marker cap off. I dread not the five-minute silences that follow the question, "What was the main point of today's article?" Instead I sit in a blissful, happy haze, sipping my Gypsy Cold Cure tea, while they squirm. Perhaps there is something to be said for coming to class impaired.


• Seriously, only twenty percent of you have a favorite book? The rest of you haven't read anything since Goodnight Moon, and it didn't do anything for you? Seriously? You are, by your own accounts, the future nurses and bankers and secretaries and computer programmers of this world, and there isn't one book in this whole world that you would piss on if it were on fire? People in caves probably had their favorite pictographs, but you, thousands of years and a whole lot of hard-working evolutionary mutation later, can't even name one goddamned book that you like? And, furthermore, you're absolutely fine with me knowing that and don't even have a shred of pride that would help you make up a convincing lie?


• RYS is all about love & passion. One has to care deeply about teaching to participate here. Your average bad teacher wouldn’t bother with RYS, so it must be the abysmal sentimental sadists in the profession who don’t get the point of reading (or writing) RYS. How is my semester going, you ask? Lovely. No complaints. But it’s only the first week. Before long some sorority pledge will fall asleep in the back row, one earphone mashed into her ear, the other dangling free and emitting a tiny attenuated hip hop baseline. I will ask those sitting nearby to wake her up, mark her absent, and move on. Then I’ll come to RYS to rant about it. Wait, I just did that. Anticipatory ranting. Works for me.
  

Yo, Yo. A Little More Time Cutting the Weeds Down, and A Little Less Time Smoking It.

Ok, let me break this down into usable parts…

Office: fairly decent. I share it with grad. students some sort of crazy-assed photography device and a shit load of book cases. My prof is a genetic guru for peaches. They have to take pictures of every damn load that comes down the pike. He could learn a thing or two from the art world; a white background for light colored objects = bad resolution. SIGH. Where is Mapplethorpe? Oh yeah he died. Gravitas baby, hold the skull in your hand. I only go here when I am mandated by the females of the 2nd floor or if my counterpart in the lab needs some assistance and I have been avoiding her recently. “Lookit me and at least one worker have already gotten a ticket parking down there, you gonna have to water the greenhouse til I get the farm truck working.”

The farm: where I really work. There is no electricity other than what we generate ourselves with the greatness of Onan. Potable water? I think so. I haven’t gotten the runs yet and nobody on the crew has either. I am brave. Toilet? I can drive you over to the gas station across the way if you gotta take a dump, but otherwise it is water a tree. Girls, bring your own toilet paper or suffer the rough texture of shop towels in a box. Spiders… I should probably mention them… if you have arachnophobia do not come to the farm, stay far away. I think my record for collected specimens is around 20. I even had a collection of webs between my kneecap and boot. WTF? Crab-like Orb Weavers can be picked up if you approach gently and allow them to clasp your finger, then flick them at the nearest available tree. If you grab them on the side then you are liable to get stuck like it was a thorn. Good luck and good mowing to you! Watch for juvenile black widows, their ass-ends have a funny spiral on them.

Meat of the issue: or what I do for a living. I am a minion. I was hired by a prof who needed someone to keep guard on the farm. I have only student workers. I have to train them to operate machinery that can kill them. If I don’t at least scare a fart out of them I haven’t tried hard enough.

“Look dammit, this sonofabitch can plant you in the ground. Imagine laying under the mowing deck holding the hand of your father as he says goodbye as you pass into the next plane.” That is my job. I am a glorified farm worker (Research Assistant). I spray bugs, wrestle iron implements and make a valiant attempt to keep the weeds at bay. My boss has a much more elaborate title. Prunus and Rosa Genetic Specialist. Short answer, he grows lots of peach seedlings and keeps about five out of 50k. And y’all in NY caint have none of them, we eat every single one south of the Red. He even made the Houston Chronicle a while back. He told me one time I didn’t want him working on the machinery because he breaks things. I tend to believe him.

I don’t have quizzes, there is no exam. There is only survival and a paycheck. I lost one already to a better paying gig, I better get used to that. Oh yeah, I lost one to another prof who offered the computer room instead of the dirt. He is the Onliest longhaired boy at Aggieland I have seen and he is Asian.

I think I live in an arcane realm. They aren’t really sure I even exist. They see the work but they are not sure I am really there. I like it that way, f’em, the fewer professors that know I exist the easier my job is to do.

I guess that is about it. You can tell your local Rep and your Senator to send more money. I gotta buy some new blades for the mower deck and I damn sure need to get some more workers. Be sure to wear good shoes, boots are better. If Tiffany shows up out at my farm I will sweat five pounds off her in an afternoon. I send a few to the chiropractor; the weed-eater is a hard taskmaster.

Listen, We All Took A Lot of Philosophy Classes in College, And None of Them Focused on Meat OR Shit-Eating.

One of our favorite correspondents, a Philosophy professor, sends in this nutty post. We'd do anything to give her a hand with what appears to be an all-star RYS-ready class.

I realize the word "meat" is a synonym for the male genitalia. That does not require you to giggle like 6-year-olds every time I say it.

I have complied with your continual demands that I use smaller words because "we're not that smart." I'm sorry, but "notions" you're just going to have to live with. Figure it out. Get a damned dictionary.

It was awesome the way you harassed the only girl in the class (before and after class, when I wasn't there to police you) until she dropped it. Now you can give free reign to your misogynistic tendencies and dirty mouths, since obviously MY presence shouldn't constrain you. And unfortunately the professor can't drop the class.

I so enjoy listening to you all claim that failing to sexually harass your female co-workers would convince everyone that you are gay. And that you are not gay. Really. You're not. But that other guy, who doesn't join in your games or look at your nudie magazines before class because he has a 6-year-old daughter? He's SO gay. But you're not gay. You can prove it. You talk dirty about women non-stop using very small words. See? Not gay. Proof positive. I'd suggest you all doth protest too much.

In the meanwhile, I'm going to keep throwing words like "coprophagia" into the lecture in the hopes one of you will at some point use a dictionary. Learning a new dirty word will be your reward.