Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Post #1000 - The Ring of DistinKtion.


Allow us to celebrate the 1000th post of RYS's energetic and wicked life. Below are the 2005-2007 entries into the Ring of DistinKtion, the very best, the most notable, the ones that stirred the shit, the ones that we will always remember. Please to enjoy:


Farewell to 2K7. RYS Goes on Hiatus

What an extraordinary year. We have had an absolute blast, but are taking a winter hiatus starting today.

We will be back in mid January, rested and recharged. (We're having the compound painted and vacuumed while we're gone. What gets the smell of sangria out of shag carpet? Anyone know?)

We are endlessly appreciative of your support. You make RYS what it is, and in the new year we're hoping for more of the same, lively and energetic posts about the modern student, the classroom, our own tenuous hold on our careening profession, and of course lots of swearing, bitching, whining, threats, and the occasional nutjob.

We hope that the end of the year is good to you, and that we'll see you in 2K8.

Monday, December 24, 2007

"One Man. Alone. Fighting Plagiarism While The Rest of Us Spin."

  • Easy there, my friend. We all applaud your campaign against plagiarists, but your self-righteous condemnation of other profs is unfair. First off, many of us - like you - share the rage against cheaters. But you know what happens at many universities? The little weasels, or their parents, complain to the Dean. The Dean shits on the department head, who then shits on the professor and forces him or her to give the offender another chance to pass. Somewhere around the second or third time you're made to look like an idiot by the administration, you give up. Not completely, but enough to keep yourself sane. I assure you it's not just the "Coast Through Life" universities where there is virtually no support for profs who try to penalize plagiarists beyond a slap on the wrist. It occurs to most of us that it's our job to be scholars and teachers, not police officers. Most of us don't have 20 or so hours to spare mid-term for a fruitless attempt at justice, either. And it sure isn't fair to expect lone academics to try and change the mindsets of entire administrations, or broader society for that matter. You want to tilt at windmills? Be our guest.

  • Oh, crap, we got schooled on our superficial behavior by Dr. Deep, who thinks he's fighting the brave fight against plagiarism all by himself. Yes, while the rest of us are out debating the relative merits of navy versus grey blazers, Dr. Deep is the Thin Blue Line between good student ethics and bad student ethics. Out of exasperation, Dr. Deep has joined the already large and growing ranks of people who argue that plagiarism is All My Fault. Yeah, so ya wanna blame me for plagiarism? Get in line, Dr. Deep. The line to blame me is about as long as the line to see Santa. Get in line behind Suzie Snowflake who blames me for her plagiarism because "she wouldn't have copied" had I, as the instructor, "required students to do an assignment on plagiarism for the first few classes" rather than "expecting them to go look at the university's plagiarism policies "during their own time." After her is Biff Buckingham III who blames me for his plagiarism because "his frat has all the assignments from last year," so why should he "rewrite something when it's all there in the files?" Then comes Grubby Graduate Student who blames me for having the audacity to point out plagiarism in his thesis. "If you hadn't required me to look into all that boring literature, I would have had time to finish my thesis without copying!" After Biff is Pinhead Pedagogue from the Center of Teaching Excellence, Outreach, And Innovation. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt in the middle of the Midwest in December, Pinhead explains that "policing plagiarism is merely a way to reinforce the professor as 'authority' rather than allowing students the freedom to learn naturally. I mean, think about it; if students were really vested in their work, they wouldn't cheat. They'd glory in the opportunity to explore ideas that were really meaningful to them. Okey dokey, Dr. Deep. It's now your turn. Granted, by now, your message that plagiarism is All My Fault is a bit stale, but have at it. It's your turn. Thanks for not jumping the line.

Why Is It So Much Fun to Be a Smart Ass?

Dear Professor,
Why did I get an A- in the course?
Perplexed

Dear Perplexed,
I was in a good mood.
Your Professor

~~

Yo dude!
I don't think I shudda got that F for my grade.
Surferguy

Yo Surferguy,
I agree with you but it was the lowest grade I could give you.
Dr. Dude

~~

Professor (insert nice name),
I was just wondering if you could tell me what the final will be like.
Thank you,
Sickeningly Sweet Sally

Dear Sickening,
Questions you will answer.
Professor Nice

~~

Hey, teach
Will we have a review for the final?
Jock itch

Dear itch,
Yes, it's called class.
Your "teach"

When Being "Student-Friendly" Gets In the Way.

On the day before our final, one of my students asked me what kind of grade he was going to get. He had not showed up the previous week and in fact had not visited with me at all concerning grades the whole semester. This in spite of the fact that very low scores were present on most his tests. He told me the he needed a specific grade in order to transfer to another 4 year institution. I knew this was not going to be pretty.

That night, I again looked at grades and confirmed that even if he received a 100% on the final, that he could not achieve their desired grade. As requested, I emailed this news to him.

The next day, he came in and wanted to know how it was possible to achieve such a low grade. I told him that poor attendance, poor tests, poor performance, and a poor final project all contributed.

He told me this was unacceptable. I, of course, agreed. He then started telling me what a horrible teacher I was. Well, folks, I've been watching a lot of Gordon Ramsay's "Kitchen Nightmares," and have learned a valuable lesson. If we want to help people do a better job, we have to tell it like it is and stop worrying so much about their self-esteem. For a student to go through the whole semester and not take responsibility for his grades is ridiculous. It's time to put a stop to this nonsense.

Now I know that doesn't sound student friendly, but the more I teach, the more I recognize this false world our students live in. Nobody is telling them to grow up! They think that just attending is enough.

We eventually had another meeting and this time I included the chairperson. (In fact, I had offered the student the opportunity to increase his grade if he was willing to: 1. Work a large number of problems in the book. 2. Prove to me that he learned what he did wrong on the tests. 3. Take an incomplete an re-do the class online. He tried option 2, but wasn't even close on getting the answers correct, and refused options 1 and 2). He was adamant that his inability to learn was entirely my fault. For 30 minutes, I sat there listening to illogical reasons for his failure.

At no point in our discussion did he ever accept responsibility for his actions. The next day, however, he emailed me and asked me to change the "D" to a "W." That's not going to happen.

Students are fooling themselves and we are letting them get away with it. We as instructors have to put an end to this madness. Next semester, feedback will be immediate, public, yet respectful. Students will be uncomfortable and quite frankly, so will I. But I can' t continue feeding their egos when they don't deserve it!

Sunday, December 23, 2007

This Turned Us On So Much, We Almost Put an Extra Two O's in "Poon."

Hey, I have a really hawt story for Pete's lawyer friend--a TRUE hawt story.

A friend of mine was a graduate student studying law at a prestigious brand-name university. She regularly attended the office hours of Mr. Famous Lawyer, who was moonlighting at her university. He seemed to take a particular interest in her work. Guess what else he took an interest in? Oh yeah, you got it! Her tight little poon.

She didn't fool him with her naive act, talking about "casebooks" and"graduate studies." Her lust for him smoldered just below the surface. He could tell how badly she wanted it. Guess what happened when he surprised her with a kiss one evening after class--a kiss that was hard and fast and long? It was soooo sexy.

My friend responded by putting his dick into knots with her incredibly amazing, sexy lawsuit, which she won. She got so much money, it was a real turn-on for Mr. Famous Lawyer. He'd never felt such passion in his entire career.

Even sexier: Mr. Famous Lawyer's missus thought the court discussions were so lusty that she indulged his sexxxiest fantasy and did that thing she said she'd never do: She left him. For degrading herself in that way, she got a really sexy alimony pay-out.

Ohhh yeaaah, that lecherous ass hat saw every one of his pornorific fantasies come true.

The Class Was So Much Fun, This Student Will Probably Get To Do It Again!

I had one student last year who got a D- grade on a group project:

  • "A C- would be the least we deserve given the time and effort we put in." (This in spite of the paper being really bad, and a D- being the result of me taking pity on them).

  • "This class (community psychology) is about uplifting and empowering people. The grade did the opposite of the principles of the class." (I'm sorry. I didn't realize social justice was about letting people off the hook when they do shoddy work).

  • "We will all be graduating soon, and I'd hate to see our futures suffer due to a grade in a summer course we took voluntarily." (Oh, so I should lower my standards for, let's see, elective courses, graduating seniors, and summer courses... should we also include entitled and manipulative students who do half-assed work and then complain when I notice it and grade accordingly?).
After I refuted and dismantled all of the above, she suddenly claimed a medical condition that limited her participation during the semester. Funny how it didn't matter enough until she saw what her grade was going to be. We agreed she could take an incomplete and retake the course this semester.

Well, she left class early half the time, got bad reviews from her group mates, and never said a word. Her papers often started with: "Well, I can't think of anything new to say because I already took the course."

There's a Long List. There's a Short List. Then There's The Shit List. And If You Haven't Heard Anything Yet, You Can Guess Which One You're On.


In reply to Professor Claus, who so liberally gave out the lumps of coal yesterday:


As someone on a search committee this term, please let me explain something, with our apologies.

We had a fairly large number of applications for a tenure-track position this fall. From these we selected a 'long short list' of around ten, to interview at the big conference. We will from this get a 'short short list' of three to bring in for campus interviews. We already know who's on the 'long short list' and they have been contacted. Would it kill us to write to the all the rest to tell them that they aren't on the long short list and should not expect us to call? Why no; in fact we'd love to. But the administration won't let us get in touch with ANYONE until after we've made an offer and it's been accepted.

I know this is insane. And I don't know why they do this. There is some arcane labour regulation that the university has chosen to interpret to mean that we can't send a simple civil notification "thanks so much for your application, we appreciate your interest in the position, but wanted to let you know as soon as possible that you didn't make the short list, so that you can make other plans. All the best with your job search, yours sincerely."

So, please forgive us. Believe me, we would notify you if we could. I think it's stupid too.

"Nine Posts on Attire, But None on Plagiarism?" Where Our Priorities Come Into Question.


This semester, it was necessary for me to take the time to prosecute two students for plagiarism. At our meeting with the department chair, one felt the need to explain that he “made up his citations” because he chose to start the assignment several days before it was due. Nothing new or noteworthy, I know. The point where it became interesting was when he bragged about how surprised he was that while I caught his “inspiration” from the Harvard University Press, I missed two other violations.

I teach ethics, by the way.

Our university policy states that the primary determinant for severity of punishment is premeditation. Luckily for said student, it also states that the recommended punishment must be written before meeting with the student. There was no shame in his eyes. There was rage in mine.

Yesterday, I read the post regarding D (the Dumbass), who gave the same excuse my student did. I read how D paid someone to write his paper for him and cannot imagine a more severe form of premeditation. I read how his professor chose to ignore the violation, perhaps because it takes ever so much time to fill out a few forms in triplicate and read the angry writings of an irate parent.

Dear colleague, know that Coast Through Life University maintains its reputation through the efforts of stalwart scholars such as yourself.

And you wonder why I’m not surprised to find nine posts objecting to professional attire, but none objecting to plagiarism.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Continuing Support For a Comrade.

We've had a number of replies today from folks who simply want to add their voices of support and empathy to the writer of "I've Done It To Myself." It's rare that mail is 100% in any direction, and although we published a great piece this morning already on the topic, we're pleased to add one more:


Please add me to the number of people who were deeply affected by the man who had done what he thought he was supposed to do for so long that he no longer had any joy or pleasure in his field at all. He's right, $56,000 - or any amount of money - is not enough to compensate for losing his faith in himself, his work, and what he's doing with his life.

I sympathized most of all with his misery at fashionable publishing. I also realized many years ago that I did not want to write anything that I would not personally want to read. This cut my productivity drastically, I can tell you, and I'm only now beginning to get back on the horse with an interesting project. But better to publish nothing at all than to write, or even read, something that strikes you as completely pointless.

Life is short and we need to put our energy into what we care about. But to that writer, I want to echo the last poster's response. You have tenure now. You can say no. You can turn down the extra work, and you can refuse to ever again write a single paragraph you don't care about.

But I would start by getting a stress leave. Any doctor you showed that post to would sign off on one immediately. And you can spend some time taking long walks and going to movies with your sweetie and reading things you actually want to read. And thinking about what you actually want to do. I hate to see someone who loved graduate school ground down this way; because if you loved graduate school then the problem isn't the discipline. It's just the conditions of your job.

All the best in changing them.

"It Is Never Too Late."

I've never been so moved by a posting here as I was by yesterday's writer who wrote the chilling and sad piece, I've Done It To Myself.

I have mixed feelings about this site, but when I see something like that, I see that RYS can do a lot of good. Where else could that writer say those things and be really heard and understood? His fear and discouragement just jump off the page, and I must confess I know how he feels.

I wish I could reach out to him and tell him that others feel that way. I, in fact, went through the same self-doubt, and the same self-loathing, and I can tell him that there is light and air on the other side.

Once I realized I'd done nothing but try to please everyone else - and never myself - I took over my own life again. I stopped worrying about bowing down to my students, stopped worrying about scraping apologetically around my superiors. I did what I'd been trained to do, and if it wasn't good enough, I didn't care.

I'm lucky. I have a husband who loves me, two grown children who live near enough to visit once in a while, and a dog named Ricardo who I take for long walks in the woods. And now I go to work feeling confident. Confident that I'm doing what I know is right, and unworried about what others think. They, I assume, have their own problems. Let them worry about that. I'm fine.

I feel younger, lighter, and better about the world and my teaching.

It wasn't like flipping a switch. I got just as low as yesterday's writer. I felt the same way. And at some point I said, "Enough!"

To you, my brother in arms, I hope your realiztion will be something that will save you. Your life has not been wasted. It is never too late to stand up.

The Sad Tale of Abe Eggar. He'd Appriciate a New Calculator For Christmas. Consider it Plan C!

Dr. ******,

I got a 79% in the class. I was wondering if there was anythign that I could do to get that 1%? This email is pretty much me begging you to help me out. I missed it by a couple points! And I studied really hard for the final and still got my average score.

So this is my plan B. And I really need a B! I would really deeply appriciate it if you would consider this email!... I hope you don't get too many of these.. But i really need to beg you for this... so please.... if not... i understand. Email me back though. Thanks.

Happy Holidays!


Sincerely, Abe Eggar

~~


Dear Abe,

I considered your email, as you requested. Unfortunately, there's nothing you can do to get that 1%. Even if there were, however, you'd still be more than 1% away from that (plan) B. According to the gradebook on Blackboard, you earned 498 points out of 640 possible. My calculator tells me that this is 77.8%, which doesn't even round off to 79.

It does make me wonder...is it possible that your calculator is faulty? That would explain a lot of your difficulty in the course. Perhaps you should look into purchasing a better calculator. It wouldn't necessarily help you in your future classes, but they say that holiday sales are down this year, and every little bit helps.

Happy holidays to you also!

Dr. ******

One Job Seeker Enlists the Fat Guy To Mete Out Some Holiday Whupass.

Ho, ho, ho, Search Committees!

Professor Claus writing to let you know who’s on the nice list and who (sniff, sniff) is on the naughty list.

First, the nice list: Those of you who accepted job candidates for interviews and those of you who respectfully rejected your candidates by way of a letter or email can expect a nice present or two under your trees. Thank you for being oh-so-nice this fall.

Now the naughty list: Those of you who have yet to determine who you will be interviewing and those of you who have decided that you won’t respond to your rejected candidates at all, I have a big steamy lump of coal for you. Here it is: You suck! Really, you do.

As always, Professor Claus knows what you don’t know. And what Claus knows is that job seekers do not want to hear about (sigh) how busy you’ve been this semester or about (yawn) how over-committeed you are or about (ahem, ahem) how under-qualified they are. None of those issues addresses the simple fact that not responding to job seekers is both rude and unprofessional. Most of them already think that you are disorganized, lazy assholes. Sadly, this fall has done nothing to disabuse them of that notion.

Merry Conferencing! Ho, ho, ho!

P.S. Even if you don’t believe in jolly ol’ Professor Claus, you still suck.

Following Up on "Abuse of Power."

The professor-student relationship relies on the trust of the student that the only thing professors are interested in is the intellectual, professional, and, sometimes, moral development of their students, as it occurs in the context of collaborative engagement with the subject matter of the relevant discipline.

Professors must never do anything that belies this trust, as if students begin to think that their trust is misplaced, the learning process ceases. Professors who attempt to date former students make it obvious to current students (who, of course, hear about such things) that, even when you are a student, you are being looked upon, and judged, as a potential future romantic interest.

This makes my stomach turn. Do professors look at their students and view some as physically and, possibly, romantically attractive? Of course; professors are human beings. But we owe it to our students and ourselves to keep these reactions completely private, and to *never* act on them. Not next semester, not next year, not after graduation.

Friday, December 21, 2007

"I've Done It To Myself."

I don't blame anyone else for it.

I've done it to myself, turned myself into a fearful and timid professor, tying up my whole self-worth in what others think of me: students, colleagues, and administrators.

All I wanted to be since the time I was a middle schooler was a teacher. I loved college and grad school was a blast. Then I was in the profession, and every bit of my courage and soul got stripped away.

I kissed ass and catered to my department to move along the tenure & promotion track. I dumbed down my classes to get student approval. I wrote incomprehensible gibberish in "hot fields" in order to publish things I wouldn't read myself if you put a gun to my head.

And I found myself stooped and depressed more and more.

I would come home from a day on campus and it would take longer and longer to be able to face my family, my wife, my sons, my friends. By Saturday night I would be closest to my old self, facing the barbecue, tossing a football, catching a new movie with my sweetie. By Sunday afternoon the gloom began to fall. More boot licking. More stooping.

And it was all on me. I could have said no to things. I could have said, forget the student evaluations; I'm going to do what I think is right. I could have told my chair to rope someone else into doing the work that nobody else would do. And if by standing up I would have lost my job, lost my good name, lost my credibility, what would I have been losing?

I'm a nebbish, a toady. And it happened because I let it all happen. If you can't be human, be strong, be engaged and confident, what good is the $56,000 I make. I should have gotten down on my knees and begged them to fire me, just so that I wouldn't have wasted all of these years.

I Hereby Submit for Publication Far and Wide another Royal Proclamation Sent by His Highness, our Great King of Entitlement.

A follow-up in 2 movements.


Dear Professor,

I have a few questions with your grading of the papers throughout the year. How, after I have written documents all my life, do I come to [this class] and receive my worst grades ever on a paper, not only one but three times throughout the semester?

I suggest you re-examine your grading techniques and take another look at not only my papers, but also the other papers from our class. This is an outrage to the amount of money that I am paying for my education to be taught by someone who does not put their students first.

I will not stand for this and if I do not see action from you I will do what ever I need to to make sure that this issue does not rest until justice is had. I hope no one else has to go through this misery that I have gone through, and I hope that you realize that changes need to be made.


Thanks,
His Highness In A Huff

~~~


Dear Great King of Entitlement:

I am so distraught to hear that a Portion of Your Royal Treasures were expended on a class in which You did not receive the A for which You so dearly paid. I am eternally grateful to be informed that all of the other Great and Suitably Monarchic Proclamations You have composed throughout the Fullness of Your Nineteen Years Regnant were invariably received with the acclamations they so thoroughly deserved. I will surely conform to Your wishes for Better Grades with alacrity, and with fear and trembling.

I have searched the Entirety of Your Kingdom for an acceptable answer to the question You have posed to Your humble servant, but in my ignorance, I was unable to determine why, in my abject ignorance, I mistakenly and wrongly proffered you Cs and Bs in recompense for Your Herculean Efforts. Thus, I will respond to the remainder of your Commands as best as I am able, in hopes that Your Tender Sensibilities shall not offended be.

In accordance with the Generosity You wish to extend to Your Peers, I have re-examined my grading methods and grading scale. I have discovered, to my great joy and relief, that every Composition of Yours well deserves an A, and that those of All of Your Peers are deserving of A Minuses (so as not to exceed those of our Marvellous King).

Your Benevolent Wish to rain Justice upon Your land is received with much gladness and rejoicing. I earnestly promise that the entirety of the Winter Break You have so kindly bestowed upon Your Kingdom will be devoted to Taking Action, Making Changes, and Putting Students First.

I remain your miserable servant,
Professor "Whoever"

Clothesing the Wardrobe Door. Get it? CloTHESing, instead of "Closing"? And "Wardrobe Door" Instead of Just "Door"? We're Doofus Shakespeare!

  • I visited the link you provided to the Fashionable Academic. They recommend a potato sack dress and slut shoes for the women. For the men, the featured a grey suit jacket with beige pants. It's like the old SNL bit "the Fashionable Academic is neither fashionable nor academic. Discuss." I'd have more respect for Milo and "the college endowment" than anyone dressed in a potato sack and slut shoes or in clashing pieces from mismatched suits. The suit guy looks like he got dressed high and tried to cover it up by over dressing.

  • With all due allowances for the vagaries of Blog Culture, I was quite unprepared for the objections to the lucid argument for business casual. Such reasoned discourse! Call me a mossback if you must, but I've seen the denizens of the monkey cage at our metropolitan zoo flinging their own feces at each other with greater finesse and articulation than these readers are tossing out "ideas." Can you imagine the graffiti artists who are at this moment dropping their pocket knives and crawling out of public urinals in shame? If the thoughts of these "professionals" are anywhere near as slovenly as their attitudes about their own deportment, I figure we'd best prepare for the advent of the New Philistinism or something.

  • They're clothes, people. They are useful in the following ways: keeping the elements off the skin; hiding the pink bits; and for wearing the occasional band name or slogan. Pink shoes? Green slacks? There are more important things to worry about than buying some status to wear in class. If you get a charge out of your new pretty frock or your Members Only jacket, then have it. But surely you see the haughtiness in telling me what to wear!

"Abuse of Power."

When I was a sophomore, I had a male professor hit on me during office hours. It was the middle of the semester and he offered to meet up with me off campus, perhaps a restaurant, if you know what I mean.

I felt betrayed. I was afraid if I didn't respond to the advances, it would affect my grade. I didn't go back to office hours or ask for help with the material again the rest of the semester.

Asking a former student out after the semester is over and the grades are turned in is one thing, but to make advances while one is responsible for a student's grades is an inappropriate abuse of power.

One Reader Nailed It. "Pete Is So Icky." But Why Oh Why Did One Reader Have to Take a Crack At Anthro. You Won't Believe The Smart Mail We'll Get.



  • I think this should be the next prime time drama: The academic equivalent of Grey's Anatomy. Like Prurient Pete points out, there are endless variations on who could be sleeping with whom. There are all the sexy conferences we all go to to get laid. We could include grade-grubbing bridery, cheating scandals, and embezzlement of department funds. The show could also make some commentary on which departments are getting the most sex. I'd wager a guess with Anthropology. Anybody have a clever name for the show?


  • Hey, Pete. You're interested in prof/undergraduate hookups? Are you serious? Sure, let's flush 8 years of student-loan-leveraged higher education for a little backseat bump-n-run with Hannah Montana's slightly older sister. Later, we can bask in that post-coital glow sharing Skittles, while she names every stuffed animal in the rear window of the car her dad bought her. Tell you what, Oliver Wendell Dipshit. Tell your colleagues to pull their hands off their pipes and get a grip on something beyond their protracted adolescence.

  • I wonder if Pete could answer some questions. What really interests me is the reaction he describes from fellow lawyers to his teaching freshman comp: [T]he other lawyer responds as follows: "I'll bet you got a lot of poon, right?" Let's assume that when Pete says "lawyer," he means "man." Do any of these lawyers have daughters in college? Do they view their own interns as sexual prey in a similar way? Or does this high-fiving reflect their fantasies, not attitudes or behavior? I don't have access to this sort of man-to-man exchange; I'm genuinely curious.

  • Yeah Pete, we have fight off advances from students all the time. There's nothing the youngsters find sexier than exhausted and neurotic academics. Really, it's almost as good as being a rock star. I'm also pleased to see that lawyers, in addition to metaphorically fucking folks up the ass, are taking an interest in how other professionals go about it for real. Anyway, I'm off to see a student about raising his "grade," if you know what I mean. After that, it's off to the Dean's office for some discipline, as I've been a very naughty girl.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Oscar from Osceola Sends In This (Oxy)Moronic Blog.






PS: We didn't make up anything about this post except for "Osceola."

Prurient Pete From Pacoima Poses A Big Thirsty. Where We Drive Away Our Last Timid Readers.

Forget the grades and the lecture notes and the typos. That's boring. Here's my question: how much action do you get as faculty?

I want to encompass all categories of screwing (except for marital -- yuck): prof/prof, prof/grad student, prof/undergraduate, grad student/grad student, grad student/undergraduate, any of the above and don't forget the admin staff.

How does it break down by gender? By marital status? Is there a correlation with the aforementioned alcohol issue?

Why do I ask this? Is it because of a prurient interest I may have? Only partly, mes amis. I ask mostly because, in my current job (lawyer), I sometimes have to fess up to the fact that I used to be a teacher (I was a grad student and taught Freshman Comp for a couple of years). More often than you would think, the other lawyer responds as follows: "I'll bet you got a lot of poon, right?"

Most non-academics seem to think that it's a real fringe benefit of the job, like you could set up a camera at office hours and get an episode of Girls Gone Wild. So, I want to know the state of the profession today. And others do as well.

Uh, All This Drama is About Clothes, Right? At the Compound We Just Have the Jumpsuits, So It's Pretty Easy.

  • What a load of crap. If I wanted to wear a suit, I'd work in an office. I wear jeans and a golf shirt (warm weather) or rugby shirt (cool weather), with either clogs (warm weather) or engineer boots (cool weather). I teach effectively, I bring in plenty of grant money, and I publish my research in quality journals. Nobody gives a flying fuck what I wear: not my colleagues, not my students, and not my chairman. Who thinks a "spring green pants suit and classic loafers in pale pink" is a good idea? Aren't classic loafers some kind of fucking shoe? She is suggesting that it is a good idea to wear green pants and pink shoes!? I think that tells us all we need to know about her fashion sensibilities, and the weight to give her fashion suggestions. Where does she teach, anyway, University of East Nantucket?

  • Tell Milo that being Peter Pan is not cool anymore. He should feel free to grow up at any point. My department is full of these boy-men, and their slovenly attitudes AND clothing are embarrassing.

  • Every semester, for the first meeting of each class, I wear a suit and tie. The suit, sans tie, makes a comeback for both the proctoring and review of the midterm and for the final. The reason I do this is to sell to them that I am indeed an authority figure. This all came about because I noticed that, more than my colleagues, my students had an annoying tendency to treat me more as a buddy than as a professor. I don't know if the fact that I'm commonly seen in an AC/DC T-shirt and jeans is the cause for this, but I find that students are less likely to ask me to "be cool" and "round their 52 up to a 60" if I look more like an adult.

  • As a young-looking petite woman fresh from graduate school, I wore business clothes so that I would not be mistaken as a student. Eight years later the habit is now ingrained. I have received favorable comments from students about this. It's no wonder students wear pajamas and flip-flops when faculty look like they came into the classroom in clothes more appropriate for gardening and painting the house than for professional endeavors--one of my colleagues routinely wears jeans and tattered sweatshirts to class. We don't have to be fashion plates, but if we want our students to take things seriously perhaps dressing ourselves for success would help cultivate that atmosphere.

  • I was wondering if anyone had any practical advice to go along with their philosophical ideas. A suit is just not practical for a chemistry professor. You can't wear a suit in the lab, not even under a protective lab coat. Halfway through a lecture I feel like Peter Parker fighting off the Symbiote as I try in vain to get out from under a blanket of chalk dust. You can't teach students how to balance equations with a power point lecture; it has to be done on the chalk board. This isn't a fashion blog, so there might be insufficient interest for this, but if anyone knows of a chalk resistant fabric, I'd love to know about it.

  • I don’t know what kind of crack this lady is on, but “business casual” is not necessarily comfortable attire and it tends to be fairly costly. On top of that, I think business casual is UGLY. In addition, I am usually covered in chalk dust, dry erase marker, or whatever it is that I was using that day. Unless you’re going to pay to have my clothes cleaned, shut up. My “style” is long skirts and blouses. My department chair likes jeans and various kinds of shirts. Does this mean I am a better role model for my students? Heck no! In addition, I try to create LESS distance between my students and myself and by showing up in a stuffy or EXPENSIVE clothes will be off-putting to some students. Bottom line is: who cares what you’re wearing as long as you teach well?

  • When I first started teaching, my office mate often wore spandex shorts on campus. As he would approach from a distance, we would say, "Here comes the 'college endowment.'"

  • Higher education is already moving to a business model and making people wear “business” attire is just one more step towards forcing us into being drones for Corporate America. Why not require standardized curriculum, grading, and teaching? Hell, go all the way to shoving a tape of an “approved” lecture and have hired paper graders to check the submissions based on an accepted rubric. Better yet, let’s move to the old Ford Model of business and turn the Colleges and Universities into degree-granting factories. We could have assembly lines for the students to move through. Then, Ms. Fashionista, you can control all the grading minions’ mode of dress with your corporate dress code. I can see you walking around with your little suit on, clip board, giving demerits because someone’s spring green pant suit wasn’t “springy” enough for you.
  • Tell Milo from Manchester that being "just an old hippie" doesn't absolve him from being a professional member of the faculty and the college. As a Dean of many years, I'm often embarrassed to take parents or trustees around campus, as the faculty at my college dress more like homeless people than educators. He hasn't worn a tie since tenure? I'm betting he hasn't done as much work since then either, published as much, worked as hard. This whole ethos of faculty saying "I'm going to be who I am, man," is just as selfish and as entitled as anything the students you rail against do.

Pissy Potpourri.

  • “Can I go over my final with you?” Translation – can I go point picking to try to get my grade up a bit?

  • “It’s not like I went to class and didn’t learn the material; I just never went to class.” He has a point, I guess.

  • Student with all Fs. “My friends told me not to bother talking to you about it because you are such a stickler for rules but I know if I told you how much a really want to stay you will give me another chance.” Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up fastest.

  • “I view the grade you give me as the beginnings of a negotiation.” I actually got that from an MBA student once. I told him when he got his doctorate, he could assign grades as he sees fit. Until then, it’s what I say it is. I finally put a sign on my office door that read: “Car payments are negotiable. Grades are not.”

  • Student who completed her fourth consecutive semester with a GPA under a 2.0. “ It’s not fair, I’m getting closer to earning 2.0 each semester.” Only in horseshoes and grenades.

  • “I really bombed your final. Can I take an incomplete?” Don’t we call it a FINAL exam for good reason?

  • “My performance on the exam really doesn’t reflect my knowledge of the subject.” I love that one. I think it’s Latin for “Hey shithead, you can’t write an exam to save your life. You asked the only 6 things I didn’t know!”

  • "I knew the exam was comprehensive, but I didn't know it covered EVERYTHING!"

  • “How close was I to a B?” Not close enough. Next question.

  • “Can I take the final early? I already made flight arrangements.” My response: No. There’s a little thing you got 3 months ago. It’s called a syllabus. It has the date and time of the final exam on it. In English. You should read it sometime.

  • Like most schools, we post grades on the campus intranet. I often get my first email within 10 minutes of posting the grades. It’s usually from an underachiever. If they only cared about the course BEFORE it was over.

This Much Snark Suggests That Vacation Time Start Immediately.

I'm sorry that I can't meet with you in the next two days about your fill in the blank: missing paper, final grade, plagiarism charge, failed exam, grade-grubbing, etc. It is now two days after the semester ended officially, and I have other things to do. What's that you say? I'm still in town and not yet "on vacation" even though we're "on break" and "it's not fair that I'm unwilling to help you until January fill in blank: 5, 7, 10, 15 [whenever is the official time for professors to be back in the office conducting official business]"?

First of all, are you suggesting I don't deserve a vacation? Or perhaps you think that now you actually have a minute to think long and hard about your performance, you have things to say, and I should abandon whatever it is I might be doing to listen and make things right for you? I won't even touch the imputed question of if I "deserve" such "a long vacation," what with the multiple weeks during the semester I worked 60-80 hours, amply deserving some time off; instead, I will point out that I am, indeed, right now, working. You see, my dearest student, not all of my job revolves around you. Most of it does--you're the reason for the season, so to speak ("you" in the sense of the-students-seeking-higher-education)--but teaching and dealing with issues stemming from class is only one part of my job. You might be surprised to find out that, for most of your professors, it's not even the major part of what they are judged on when it comes time to tenure. Funny, isn't it? Please hold my tropical drink with the huge umbrella while I join you in a good giggle over the whole thing.

Actually, what I'm doing this week that makes me unable to meet with you on this so very not urgent matter in the grand scheme of things for both you and me is working. Yes, WORKING. Preparing for a conference (and revising a publication, and reading secondary sources for a new class I'll be teaching in the spring, and reading thesis proposals and drafts). Funny--I'll be "working" this way during a big chunk of my lengthy "break." Of course, I will also spend some time with family, watch crap TV, and read for pleasure. I hope you see the need for me to do those things--it makes me a much happier human. I am a human and not a grade machine, as you surely have noticed.

For now, though, may I kindly ask you to fuck off with the judgmental tone in your email about how I spend my"break" time? You don't own my time, and you don't pay my salary (despite what you might protest).

Thank you-- and see you in January!

We Don't Think This Guy Really Means There's Going to Be Egg Nog.


  • Of course I'll be happy to re-grade your exam. Until I read your email I hadn't realized that you knew all the right answers to the questions on the exam. I'm sure you know better than I do how the quality of your exam compares to that of your classmates. I only read fifty other exams--how could I possibly presume know what constitutes an "average" quality answer? I was under the mistaken impression that your second essay didn't respond to the exam prompt. Clearly I misunderstood not only the essay that you wrote but also the exam prompt which I wrote. My deepest apologies for not recognizing the inherent perfection that is your exam.

  • Of course I'll be happy to meet with you during the week of Christmas to discuss your final grade. I know it's been impossible for you to stop by my office hours at any point during the semester, and now that all your work has been completed and assessed and the semester is over, it seems like a really good time to discuss your progress in my class. And since I have nothing else to do during this holiday break, I'm looking forward to sitting in my office arguing about how I graded assignments that were turned in months ago. Will you bring the egg Nog, or shall I?

  • Of course I'm an unfair jackass who is out to get you. The entire semester has been an elaborate plot to mark your transcript with a C and thereby dash your hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize-winning author. Clearly you really deserved a B+ in my class, even though (as you told me repeatedly) my class was utterly irrelevant to your development as a creative writer, and even though (as you told me repeatedly) reading and understanding poetry was your great weakness. This was a class that didn't matter, involving material you found difficult or even impossible to understand. Under those circumstances, it is inconceivable that you would have earned a C for the semester, unless it was through some dastardly plotting on my end.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

If RYS Had Three Wishes.

  • We wouldn't have to turn down so many excellent posts. In order to keep the page a manageable thing to read, and in order to keep our workload down, we have settled on posting 3-4 pieces a day during our regular schedule. (We post 10-15 a month in June and July, and are hoping to slow down between Christmas and the start of the spring term.) But as the site has grown in popularity (as many as 15,000 page views a day!), we get more and more mail. One day last week we had 170 emails over night. We average around 100-120, depending on the issues that are current, so many many folks get our tiny - but sincere - "thanks, but no thanks" notes. In one way we think it's made the site stronger, as we get to pick the best of the best. But, we also see that more and more posts come in ratcheted up in rhetoric so high that they nearly go off the rails. Some writers - like Wicked Walter, for instance - control the fury in such a way that we still love them. Others just crash in a hailstorm of "fucks" and "shits" and murderous plans for wayward students. The truth is we've always favored the "lively" post that has something to say. What does "lively" mean? Who knows? Also, we don't keep records of who gets in or not, but we get lots of emails that start, "I've sent you ten posts and you haven't published any. What gives?" We don't know. Keep trying. We do have some writers who make the pages pretty often - they sometimes become correspondents or (rarely) chief correspondents. We don't know any of these people. We couldn't pick them out of a lineup. But their "tone" is sort of like the moderators' own, and we probably favor them because they get the mission of RYS so well. But we love publishing folks we've never posted before, and we're just flat out sorry that we can't give everyone a voice. As we've been preparing for the Ring of DistinKtion and our upcoming 1000th post, we've been awed at the variety and force of the posts that are already up on the blog. It's a testament to you who write in with such passion and wit about the world of a college prof. We toast you all.

  • We would let all students know that it's not personal. It's pointed sometime, and it's often about one student in particular, but most of the posts about bad students are recognized by dozens of profs who write in to tell us, "Me, too! I had that student, too!" Listen, we wouldn't be profs if we didn't like - to some degree - the students who wander into College Hall Room 301 every semester. Most of you don't vex us so. But those who do get pilloried here in energetic and interesting ways. This is what the site does. We actually would like bad students to become good students. (Or just go away, though that doesn't seem likely.)

  • We'd find out where Compound Carl left the hookah, because, man, we've been out to that tree, and it ain't anywhere to be seen.

~~~

PS: For any wiseass who thinks our 3rd wish should have been for a dozen more wishes, we truly don't need any more. We've got spiced meats and tequila, and Compound Clyde recently got us free cable by tapping into a wire that runs to the nearby prison.

Milo From Manchester, One of Our Favorite Correspondents, Offers Up A State Motto Along with a Helping of Some Righteous Hippie Indignation.

That post about wearing suits, that’s a joke, right? I’m 56 & I haven’t owned a suit in my life, ever. At least not since my momma was buying my clothes, anyway. I have a couple of sport coats & a bunch of nice sports shirts & a drawer full of jeans & chinos. I also have about fifty neckties that I used to wear before I made full professor, but I’ve rarely put one on since.

I’m just an old hippie. If my colleagues want to wear a suit, that’s cool with me. As a matter of fact, some do, some don’t, with lots of variations in between. But I take considerable umbrage at someone presuming to tell me what to wear. One of the reasons I became an academic is that I detest self-important twits telling me what to do.

By the way, I don’t much care what my students wear to class as long as they don’t have parts of their anatomy that nobody wants to see hanging out of their clothes.

Live free or die, dude!

Nothing Worse Than the Super-Keener. Two Final Thrashings For Becca And Her Kind.

Our readers continue to write about Becca, and many didn't think the thrasing she received yesterday was enough. So here are two more, the first from someone fairly new to the page, and the second from one of our chief correspondents. It should be noted, however, that even though it's the holiday season and all, it's still called RateYourStudents. We've had a very tiny trickle of emails saying, "Lay off of poor Becca," but a trickle doesn't even wake us up in the morning.


  • Far worse than the Sullen Sammy's and other idiot-sticks we so often encounter as professors, here is Becca, the archetypal super-keener who actually believes she knows more than us. I think her sister or mother was in a class of mine this term. She also felt like it was important to tell me how the course was going and whether or not the lectures, assignments, and sequencing made sense. She also let me know that snow closures were a major problem for her, suggesting in some strange way that I'm in control of the weather. Knowing so little about my course even, how could I possibly control the weather? If I could, lady, you and your permanent self would be snowed in on some mountain top far away from me. Here's some insight for you, Becca. Your professors are less impressed by your keen-ness than they are annoyed by it. They give you high marks so you will leave them alone; your work is not as great as you think, and, really, we just want you to go someplace else. Wow, you almost have an undergraduate degree? Too bad you didn't get any perspective with that.

  • You know who I hate even more than students who turn in error-laced papers, who skip class, who "zone out," and who generally don't give a shit about my class? That would be you, Becca--students like you. Because you actually think that your meager and grade-grubbing "effort" in my class entitles you to all kinds of privileges, rights, and a status that exceeds the professor's. But we can see right through you (not that you made any attempt to be subtle). You DON'T care about school. You care about throwing up all weekend at the "Spring Fling" thing. And you think if you turn in a paper free of "typos" you deserve something, even though its clear you haven't had an interesting or original thought in your life. No, you do not have anything close to the knowledge necessary to judge me as an instructor (can you ask the snotty fifth grader to evaluate his teacher and expect him to be fair?) No, you don't understand what we're really complaining about here. No, I do not give one flying fuck about your "party" weekend. You sound like the kind of student who needs a solid F or two to give her a kick in the ass and shake up her precious little world.

"I'll Take 'Dumbasses' For $100, Alex." (Where We Use the Title Bar To Give a Clever Shout-Out and Best Wishes to Monsieur Trebek.)

The first class I ever taught was an upper division anthropology seminar. One of my students, let’s call him D (for dumbass) came to class regularly (attendance was part of the grade), but sat in the back row, never participated, and often appeared to be sleeping. The couple of times I spoke to him about it he explained he had a full time job at his father’s business, a new baby at home, and a middle school teaching job lined up after he graduated that semester. (This was all true; he brought his wife and new daughter in to meet me. Isn’t that sweet?) As he was fulfilling the minimal requirements of the course, he looked poised to get a D – which is a passing grade at Coast Through Life University – and everyone seemed fine with that.

Then comes the final paper. Don’t these people realize that we get to know them, their thought processes and writing styles over the course of the semester? The paper was full of complex ideas eloquently presented, albeit a little unclear on the thesis statement, interspersed with ridiculously inane statements like “So why aren’t Africans successful?” Which I can only imagine were meant to tie the beautifully-written passages together. Something was clearly wrong.

A quick Google search revealed that the entire paper, inane insertions aside, was copied from various sources on the Internet. A consultation with the department chair concluded that I had full authority to pursue or ignore this as much as I wanted. So I met with D. He apologized profusely and explained that he hadn’t actually plagiarized the paper. He had paid someone to write it for him, and *that* guy had plagiarized. He was very contrite and so busy and tired. So I allowed him to rewrite the paper. He did, and it was original, and mediocre, and he earned his D in the course. And he went away content.

The icing on the cake? He emailed me last semester and asked me for a letter of recommendation.

This is Your Wardrobe. This is Your Wardobe on Drugs.

A student of mine paid me quite the compliment today: "Dr. X., you always dress like a business woman when you come to class. How come the other faculty do not do this?" I was bowled over. First, because I always thought I wore rather average clothes. Second, because my students apparently are peering out from behind their laptops and paying attention to the front of the room. Third, because I had never noticed what my colleagues were wearing.

The comment made me think though, "Shouldn't all faculty endeavor to look as professional as we can when we come to class?" We faculty liberally complain about the pajama clad, flip-flops wearing students but, are we doing much better? Certainly few of us are wearing our nighties to lectures, yet are jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals that much better given our status in the classroom?

I do not propose that we should all wear academic regalia to classes (though this would make getting dressed for lectures much easier!). I do suggest that we ought to upgrade from "everyday is casual Friday" garb to business casual, at the very least. My own preference-- and maybe this is because I wish that everyone had the same dry-cleaning bill that I do-- is that we all wore suits. I do not believe this would stifle our academic freedom or our innate creativity. Far from it! There are so many variations of the classic suit, whether for men or women, that, at worst, we would look like a bunch of well-dressed, highly individuated, individuals. Indeed, wouldn't a spring green pant suit and classic loafers in pale pink, or a navy blue pin-stripe suit with a yellow holographic bow-tie make a much more interesting statement than jeans, Doc Marten's and a black turtle-neck? The worst that could happen is that students pay attention to us for non-academic reasons and write nasty comments about our fashion sense on their evaluations. But, they would have had to pay attention, and that is a start.

We have all heard that we should "dress for success" with the implication that by dressing ourselves well, we will be successful. Perhaps it is our task as educators to turn this about: we should dress ourselves well so that our students might see the representation of success and strive to imitate accordingly.

Florida State Scandal Links.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

"Dear Becca..."

  • Becca's claim about the editors of this page proofreading everything shows she doesn't pay much attention. The moderators are likely too besotted after margarita orgies to do anything but cut and paste our ramblings and put them online. If you're looking for our professional writing, Becca, why not pick up a scholarly journal or one of our books?

  • When swotty snowflakes write lengthy posts criticizing barely noticeable typos, professorial attitudes, and the scheduling of exams and papers without reference to the fucking "partying weekends" (we're such meanies!), then I just remember that if their professional future is in academia, they will either learn the error of their ways or else be hated by all their colleagues. Really, either is fine with me.

  • Becca closes her post from yesterday by dropping some knowledge on us. Apparently we are all committing the "fundamental attribution error" and maligning the students' "permanent selves." Not their permanent selves!! I imagine Becca would be mighty surprised to discover how little time we spend thinking about their "permanent selves." In fact, in this post-humanist world, I imagine very few of us even believe in something like a permanent self. But that's the subject for a different post. We are not frustrated with rude and entitled behavior because we give a shit about anyone's permanent self. We are frustrated by rude and entitled behavior because it's annoying. And time-wasting. Every time some little darling emails me at 3 am asking if I can give him some feedback for an essay that's due at 11am, I guarantee I don't think one damn thing about his permanent self. I think, "Well that's just great. When I don't answer he's going to sulk for a week, sucking all the life out of the seminar." When I give someone a C, I am not thinking one damn thing about her permanent self. I am evaluating her work.

  • We are bitching to each other. No one's asking Becca to do anything about it.

  • I wish I taught at Becca's school where the administration is apparently planning rock and roll ("partying") weekends where they spend "hundreds of thousands of dollars" bringing in bands. I would be there rocking out. Of course that college sounds like it's in fantasyland, but no matter. The last band our college brought in was two guys with acoustic guitars. And neither was named Sting or Bono.

  • The students that writers on this blog are complaining about are in some way pathological. Perhaps they are disrespectful, perhaps they cheat, which is unfair to all the students who play by the rules. Some of them might not turn in their work, or turn in such shoddy work that it is clear that they don't care about the class. Students of that sort used to be rare in college, as students were both selected and self-selected for academic seriousness. With ever-increasing enrollments and some politicians' goal of universal college education, greater numbers of marginal, unmotivated students are being swept into the system and making life more difficult for professors.

  • Becca's post made me just let out a long sigh. I don't even pretend to understand this: "I am an undergraduate, and I wanted to point out a few things I have noticed while perusing the site." So what? Why would I give a shit? Why on earth did RYS even post this junk?

  • You are most certainly not qualified to judge me as a professor. Let’s be perfectly clear about that. You never were. You use the phrase “to facilitate my learning.” Where, exactly, did you get this? Who poured this poison into your ears? You might be in a position to judge my performance as a “facilitator,” but not as a professor. Get off your horse. Again, when you join our ranks, you will know exactly what this means. And, yes, other professors are more qualified than you to judge professors.

  • Becca claims that there are "frequent" errors on this blog, and I have to say she's just flat out wrong. I wish she'd pointed some out, in fact. The truth is, as someone who reads the site every day, and has for months, I "rarely" see a typo, and it's often inconsequential. When I have typos in a student paper - and I don't know why I have to even qualify this - I might see 9 misspelled words in a single paragraph. That's frequent, honey. Plus, this is a blog for profs to let off steam. It's nothing at all like a paper you or we would be evaluated on.

  • While you make some good points about being a college student, and how you are superior because you are a student at "a rather selective school where the students are more concerned with their school work than most." (And btw, I teach at a school that is supposedly selective. I know that really means "grade grubbing.") But I digress. The one fact that you neglected to consider is that we have all been college students, and you have never been a college professor. So stop pretending that you have some great insight into our lives, work, and effort we put into our jobs, because you have no clue.

  • Hey Becca. I'm sure that it escaped your self-professed, more than capable attention, but this site is not all about you.

  • With regard to paragraph one of Becca's post, there is a remarkably simple explanation for why you see grammar and spelling errors in some of the posts. Reading papers written by undergraduates (particularly “freshpeople”), makes you stupid. In paragraph five, you mention joining our ranks. When you do, you will know exactly what this means. There is help for us, however. It is called phosphatidylserine. Buy it in bulk.

  • There are Beccas everywhere, of course. My own "Becca" was Rachel, someone whose parents had so filled with entitlement that she came to my office frequently to "help" me by giving me her impressions of how class had gone. That I was 10 years into a teaching career, and 20 years into "college life" apparently escaped her. Becca, honey, we don't want your insight. Go suck an egg.

Alcoholism in the Profession (continued).

Yes - there are a lot of us. As captain of the nerd teams in high school, a couple of years before falling in love with the bottle, I was involved in a few special field trips to a local government lab. From then on, I dreamed of a future in a lab coat working for the DoE. By the time I got to grad school, however, I figured I'd never cut it in "the real world" and geared myself toward a life in a university office, sneaking nips in between lectures as I'd seen some professors do, and knocking off early on Fridays for happy hour at the university club.

As I wrapped up the dissertation, a community college job fell into my lap and for the next few weeks of that summer, I celebrated the victory of obtaining a job that would fit into my drinking instead of having to do it the other way around. And then one morning, about 10 days before my first semester was to begin, I woke in a terror sure I'd never keep the job if I kept up with my drinking. I went to AA by the end of that day.

AA is not the answer for everyone, there is church, there is therapy, there are even a few rare birds who can scrape something together out of some self help books. I'm not writing to push AA on anyone. I'm just writing to tell you a little something that changed for me a couple of years ago because from the ideas you sprinkled before us regarding the priority you place on family, I think you might want to hear it.

I'm not saying I found instant bliss; for a few months I just felt bored. But somehow something sunk in and not only was I not drinking, but I was living a totally different life. I relate to your perspective and have been the one mocked by those salivating to hit the bar. But once you're not one of the ones chomping at the bit to hit the bar, you'll see that they are in fact the minority. It's a squeaky wheel syndrome - the active academic drunks make themselves the most noticeable. If you trust what your gut is telling you and you look for a new way of life, you will see that while the field may have a higher rate of alcoholism than a lot of other careers, there are in fact more sober professors than drunk and there are plenty of social outlets within our professional word for those of us who abstain.

I wish you luck and assure you, you will not be a social leper at your university if you find a way to put down the bottle. Your home life is bound to improve, and believe it or not, your professional life is likely to sky rocket in unexpected ways.

Ring of DistinKtion.


Unthinkably, by year's end we'll pass the 1000 post mark. In response to that - and not a few requests from readers - we're going to unveil the RYS Ring of DistinKtion, a collection of the most notable posts of this blog's history.

You should feel free to browse all of the archives and send us your favorites. Those posts that achieve a critical mass from without (you people) and from within (the Compound Crew), will achieve "Ring" status, and will from time to time be bumped to the top of the first page of RYS so all can adore them once again.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Becca From Baltimore Peers Into Our Empty Soul.

I am an undergraduate, and I wanted to point out a few things I have noticed while perusing the site. First of all, there are a surprisingly frequent number of grammar and spelling errors. Considering a number of posters complain about this from their students, that highly educated people are writing these posts, and that other highly educated people are proofreading them, the number I have seen is rather high. I probably don’t even see all of them, as it is easy to miss a typo when the meaning is still clear. If people who care so much about grammar and spelling mess it up, is it really surprising that students do too? I know that I can easily miss typos when I read over my work, partially because I know how it’s supposed to read. In fact, there are probably errors in this post. I understand how reading an email with multiple and blatant errors is annoying, but perhaps you could cut students some slack for typing then vs. than, or for vs. to.

I get it. You don’t care about how hard I work on my paper. If it’s not cogent, analytical, and well-organized, I don’t get a good grade. That’s fine. I agree to a system where only the final product of my work counts. But I need you to agree to it as well. That means no complaining that students don’t understand how hard you professors work. If the final product (conveying the material) is all that counts, then it doesn’t matter if you hold office hours every single hour of the day if you can’t effectively communicate the material. (I understand that different individuals write different posts, but I see so much of both sides that I suspect a number of individuals think their professorial effort should count, but that students’ effort should not.) Also, if the final product is all that matters, then why do you care if students skip class? It will presumably hurt them in the creation of the final product, or if it doesn’t, then either they compensated for the missing material or are simply very smart. If you want students to stop assuming that effort will bump their grade up, then perhaps you should stop punishing others for lack of effort.

Yes I AM qualified to judge you as a professor. To qualify this statement, I mean that I am able to evaluate your job performance in the classroom and in any other situations where you are trying to facilitate my learning. You might be the most insightful researcher in your field, but that doesn’t make you good at teaching others. I should note that I have skipped fewer than five classes in my 3.5 years of undergraduate, and that two were for a job interview. I do the reading, I’m attentive in class, I work on the homework, etc. I also know many others who work similarly (Note: I am at a rather selective school where the students are more concerned with their school work than most. Understand that I don’t reflect the average undergraduate, but I still believe this point has merit.) When I, and my fellow classmates, fail to grasp a concept, it might just be about you. If we all find your lectures boring, it might just be about you. If you get 200 comments asking you to please slow down during your explanation of difficult concepts, well, maybe you should slow down. And we ARE qualified to make those statements. Saying students are not fit to judge the quality of the TEACHING of a professor is outlandish. Who else is supposed to judge? Your fellow professors who are equally knowledgeable?

Not all of us are in your class because we are excited about the material. We are there to satisfy a distribution requirement, because it’s part of the curriculum for our major (but we are really interested in another area of the discipline), because we are pre-med, or because it fit into our schedule. This does not excuse cheating, or any other unethical behavior. But are you really that surprised when people zone off in class? On this site, I have seen countless references to people zoning out during boring administration meetings. It’s not comparing apples to apples, but if it’s not a moral/personality/cultural problem when professors neglect some of their commitments, why is it such a big deal when students zone out in class?

Look, I love school. I want to suffer through grad school, and then join your ranks (likely as a Pollyanna, but you never know how life twists). But I still think it SUCKS when you schedule an exam/paper the day after our big concert/partying weekend. It’s an official university event, whose date is planned out years in advance. The school spends hundreds of thousands of dollars bringing in bands and creating a very lovely weekend for its community (which includes the faculty I see rocking out to the music.) Scheduling a major evaluative event is just mean. I will get the work done. I will do it well (but not as well as if I didn’t have the event). This is particularly hard for exams, because papers can be done in advance, but it’s hard to study well for a test (because some material hasn’t been presented) without spending a lot of time immediately before the exam preparing.

I know you are blowing off steam, that you have a lot of shit to deal with one aspect of a job that you did not ask for. But one major thing, which encapsulates a lot of the above points, is that when students flub, you often see it as a permanent flaw of the individual representative of their attitude in all other endeavors. In psychology, they call it fundamental attribution error, or the tendency of people to attribute their own flaw or defects to the situation, but the flaws of others to their permanent selves. When you zone out in a meeting, it’s because it’s boring. When we zone out in class, it’s because we are ungrateful idiots.

Overall, we are developing adults. I say adults in that we have a fair amount of autonomy, more responsibility (relative to a few months or years back in high school) and are legally considered adults. But we are still growing, still changing, and we are not our final selves yet. By all means, kick us in the ass for cheating, fail us when we deserve it, and challenge us. But don’t hate us.

(And if you manage that, please, please, please, please do not schedule a major evaluative exercise right after Spring Weekend. I’m a senior-it’s my last one.)

RYS Links.


A Final Post About Whining.

"But even were that so, let me offer you what remains the more poignant touchstone of moral correction for me: the thought of my father, a steel-worker who, for the decade and a half that I knew him, would rise at 5:30 am at least five and more usually six days a week and not return home until after 6:00 pm, often with cuts and burns on his hands and legs, and always with parts of his body still a little blackened with soot and filth, despite the shower he had taken. And twenty on day after day for years on end. To complain of my job would, to him, be completely absurd and even inconceivable."

- from Saturday's "Sour Leprechaun" post.


This is such total bullshit. My father worked in the same conditions most of his adult life, and he did so willingly to support his family. He had a high school diploma and a couple college courses at the local CC-equivalent before knocking my mom up and going to Vietnam (the order of those may be confused...but my family romance isn't at question here).

I got an MA and then a PhD. I did many kinds of jobs while pursuing those studies so that I could use my meager stipend money on things like living and paying back credit card debt. I did medical experiments, helped with botanical experiments, and cleaned houses. I actually liked the latter and it worked around my seminar schedule really well. I did all of this in full knowledge that I was going into a profession that is often seen as a vocation because it pays so little in comparison to other professions.

Look, lawyers spend a fraction of the time we do in graduate studies (same with MBA's and, to some extent, with MDs, although they have residencies and whatnot) and yet stand to make a lot more money. They may work the same insane hours that we do and they may have serious professional stressors and bureaucracy to deal with as well. Again, did I say they make a LOT more money in general? Fine. So none of us is in this field for the money, unless we're idiots. We're in it for the love of teaching or research or both, or a belief in the power of knowledge and education.

But I can't believe you want to suggest that we can't complain about being paid a pittance and working under some shitty conditions at times just because we have some perks (yes, some days I DO work from home in my pajamas -- but I also teach nights and regularly work 70-80 hours a week no matter how I'm dressed or where I'm doing the work at). And tenure is a great perk. Job security is great! (Relatively) higher wages that come from advancement are great.

If we are increasingly faced with students who don't value education for itself but because "everyone needs a degree," and who are lazy and/or willing to cheat, then we have every right to complain. And as enrollments have risen in college programs in the last few decades, the instances of those kinds of students seem to have risen as well.

I don't see why whining about cheaters who expect the world handed to them on a silver fucking report card is a problem for you. If you think your job is cushy, then please, by all means, lean back on your cushion and enjoy yourself. I work my ass off to the point of exhaustion because I care about what I do. And I still think there are many unfair things about the profession that I deserve to be able to bitch about (you think lawyers don't whine?? you think doctors never let off steam??). Finally, if you haven't noticed, this is one of those few professions that require advanced schooling (seriously advanced--who else studies 5-8 years post BA???) where a single person cannot actually afford to have a child alone due to inability to pay for daycare on the average salary. Not to mention that the tenure-track is not very friendly to those who are primary child caregivers.

But hey -- who cares? -- why should anyone complain when they have such a cushy job!! I get to read books for a living and talk about them --shouldn't I be paying them for giving me that privilege?? (this is exactly the attitude that allows too many in the profession to be exploited...)

1646.

The predisposition toward alcoholism in academe is among the most gruesome blindspots of the profession. And it ain't gonna get better anytime soon.

But you can.

I say that as someone who knows. Severe chronic alcoholism almost ended both my career and my life five years ago. I am telling you what I know to be true when I say it can get better IF you embrace your willingness to get help and to make a change.

There's an excellent essay ("Addicted in Academe") that appeared in The Chronicle a few years back. Read it. And then make a phone call -- to a trusted friend, to AA, to your doctor, to whoever makes sense.

And as you make that phone call and whatever arrangements you need to get help, forget about the cruel and idiotic voices that get in your way. You know the kind, I'm sure. Sometimes they're the voices in your head; sometimes they're from people you love. They're the ones that say things like: "You don't drink that much" or "Counseling doesn't work for smart people" or "AA is a cult" or "Everyone will know." Those voices aren't helping, and you need help.

You don't have to take another drink. Not because of academia. Not for any reason. In the 1646 days since my last drink, my life -- both personally and professionally -- has gotten better in ways I couldn't even imagine. Know that.

And make a phone call. Help is there if you really want it. And from the sound of things, you do.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Ode to An F.

Earth drinks autumn rains;
My carpet accepts your tears:
Dripping, dropping, drop.

As the cottonwood
Beside the rain-swollen stream
Unmovèd am I.

Late work; incomplete;
Poor attendance; excuses.
And now, you're weeping.

Grades do not measure
Good intentions or talent:
Only performance.

Birds not migrating
Get caught in the winter's snow:
So your work falls short.

A "D" is sixty.
You gave a push at the end:
Fifty-eight point eight.

If you were a bird
You might have reached freezing rain:
You would not be warm.

"It's only one point!"
"No, my dear, it's one point two.
"Take your bitter herb.

Fall turns to winter;
Seasons change; college terms end:
Too little, too late.

Unmovèd am I
Beside the rain-swollen stream
As the cottonwood.

Dripping, dropping, drop;
My carpet accepts your tears:
Earth drinks autumn rains.

Academe and Alcoholism.

I'm interested in the current discussion of booze. Can we acknowledge that there is a huge amount of alcoholism in academia? Not the cute Dudley Moore kind, but the kind that makes us less sharp and ends our lives early? I'd imagine every one of us knows a colleague who needs a mid-morning 'refresher' or who always smells slightly of drink. I remember seeing my supervisor trying to be inconspicuous checking all the (empty) wine bottles at a reception, hoping there was a glass left in one of them, and finally making a glass by combining all the remnants red and white wine that were left. I remember drinking with him at a local bar until well past midnight (having started at four). And is there any function in academia that doesn't involve alcohol?

I'll lay my cards on the table: I'm a total alcoholic. I go through a bottle of vodka and a few beers a day. There's never a time when I don't have alcohol in my system. I'm trying to get help, but I actually worry about what it'll do to my career. At a conference in my field, you're esteemed by how eager you are to get to the bar afterwards. After every departmental seminar, it's off to the pub, and if you can't handle three or four pints each time, you get teased. I'm giving up because I care for my wife and my life more than my work. But this is a serious issue at every university I've ever been to, and one that either goes unacknowledged, or jokingly acknowledged, as if it's funny. I don't know if it is. And I'd love to hear from other readers about their experiences and perceptions of it.

Academic Haiku At Its Finest. And If You Even THINK of Telling Us That This is Not Haiku, We're Taking Away Your Compound Privileges.

The semester is over.
Christmas is almost here.

But Grady the ChangeMyGrade guy is lurking
with one more email.


Saturday, December 15, 2007

Meta-Whining

I am so sick of posts (not just here but on other academic forums) taking "the whiners" to task for not spending all our free time on our knees, groveling before the beneficent deity who has seen fit to grant us the best of all possible jobs!

The complaints about the complaints are always the same: there are hundreds of more grateful folk waiting to replace you, academia is a pretty cushy job, academia is an especially cushy job when compared to steel working, working as a mascot, or selling your body.

To which I say: yes, yes, yes, and who gives a damn. These perfectly true statements have absolutely no relevance to the complaints academics make.

There are hundreds of people waiting to replace each and every one of us? That's part of the problem! Many of the complaints on RYS come from adjuncts teaching six classes out of wheeled briefcases for no benefits and just enough money to make them ineligible for food stamps. Those on the tenure track are driven by the very awareness of how replaceable they are and how the standards can change at any moment. "Did we say one book for tenure? That was before we noticed that Danny Desperate #1-372 managed to publish that much while adjuncting and living in a shoebox. So get cracking on that second book and, by the way, you don't mind taking an overload do you? I thought not."

Is academia a cushy job? Well compared with heavy physical labor yes. But that was never the comparison was it? I doubt many people are trying to decide between graduate school and ditch digging. Academics complain because they want the best, or at least the average, of what the field offers. Do these people write to auto workers to tell them they shouldn't strike since their jobs are so cushy compared to the sweatshops? Since when did "not being at the absolute bottom of the barrel" mean "no complaints allowed?"

And not whining to your father the steel worker? Does the word "duh" mean anything to you? In my neck of the woods, that's called common decency. I don't gripe that my spouse won't put the laundry in the dryer when I'm talking to my recently divorced sister. I don't complain about my trick knee to my friend with an autoimmune disease that frequently makes it impossible for her to walk across the room. But I still think my complaints have merit, even if they pale in comparison to others.

And here's why I think my complaints have merit (and this is why these "suck it up and be grateful" complaints piss me off so much): BECAUSE I CARE! I want my school, my department, my classes to be the best they possibly can. When something interferes with that, I get upset. Sometimes it is something I can change, but a lot of times it is out of my control--administrators who only care about the bottom line, students who have been trained by the public school system to think showing up merits a B, and so on. And when things are out of my control, I whine, I bitch, I moan, because it helps me survive. Complaining to other academics is a safety valve, a request for suggestions, and a gesture of solidarity all rolled into one.

So listen up, you whiners about whiners. Here's your own message right back at you. Stop complaining about us. Go click on some other blog--there's thousands of eager readers ready to replace you. And after you've spent an hour with a helicopter parent who threatens to sue the school because of of Suzie Snowflakes emotional distress after you failed her for plagiarism, don't come whining here. We don't want your bellyaching.

It's Not Nice to Make Fun of Subway Sandwich Artists. While You're Picking Your Vegetables, They Can Spit On Your Salami.

My dear students, I regret to inform you that we will not have a pizza party, or any sort of party for that matter, on the last day of class.

While I might be willing, on my most charitable day, to celebrate and dine with four of you at the most, in our final meeting I will feel physical elation at the idea of tossing the vast majority of you out the door of my classroom never to return. This is not to say I wish you any particular ill will; in fact, I hope you manage to achieve all your dreams with the little common sense the universe saw fit to afford you. However, I hope that you achieve them far from my future course schedule and, preferably, in another geographic location as the idea of your serving in a medical, judicial or educational capacity near my place of residence terrifies me to no end.

Furthermore, considering that the vast majority of you will squeeze your dense heads through the doggie door of the Academy with a whopping "C" in this course, I question whether you should find yourself celebrating at all. While the so-called "instructors" at the last intellectual morass you haunted might have awarded you with a deep-dish for not stapling your final portfolio to your forehead, take assurance in knowing that "not failing" does not indicate any sort of success in my thinking. I see no reason to celebrate your staggering mediocrity and, the more I think about it, I see how the concept of an obligatory pizza party predicated your level of performance in this course.

However, rest easy knowing that I will be celebrating with a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey as I enter your final grades, and once more when I watch in glee as you sear the skin on your tender, dainty fingers, unblemished by all that difficult page turning and key punching, on the steel pan you will use to toast my Subway Club in your future career as a sandwich artist.

Who Knew There Was Such Drama In that Big Building At the End of the Quad?

As you know, the library is usually one of the very best places to avoid students and get some work done. Yesterday, however, as it was the end of the semester, many students had dragged their overworked selves to the library. These are the sights and sounds that greeted me, Professor Bean, as I tried to work:

Scene 1 in library, 3rd floor:
Young person, lady parts barely covered with a micro-mini; she also sports shearling boots. She eats Skittles and talks into a pink phone: "I am at the library. I am going to get a book." Pause. "No, this is the best way. Turnitin can't catch you if you use a book."

(Professor Beans wonders at these comments. Students tell her they have no idea that it is wrong to copy, and yet when speaking to friends they speak openly of it and hand out tips for dodging anti-cheating software.)

Scene 2 in library, other side of 3rd floor:
Young person, also female, hair in ponytail as an obvious sign she has been working too hard to groom. She has an entire sack of fast food folded out on the table in front of her; has gotten ketchup on the table and her chin. There is palpable disdain in her voice as she says loudly into her cell phone, also pink: "Gah! Like that's going to happen. Look, I just need you to get here so I can copy your math."

(Oddly, Professor Bean feels slightly better knowing they treat their friends exactly the way they treat her.)

Scene 3 in library, fifth floor:
Two young persons, both male, with what appears to be Korean barbecue in styrofoam containers. Boy howdy, that sure looks good. They are dressed in College gear; one has jeans so dirty Professor Bean thinks of scabies. Between bites of sauced beef, one remarks: "I should have gotten a soda." The other one does not respond as he is scrolling through his cell phone looking at texts and emails and says in return: "This professor is such a douchebag. It sucks we have to stay for his stupid class."

(Wha? Classes just ended yesterday. No finals during finals week? It says in the faculty handbook that professors may not schedule finals before finals week. Professor Bean is confused. Is Professor Bean the douchebag of which the young man speaks? Professor Bean peeks out from the stacks to check to make sure she doesn't know him. She does not. She feels no better knowing she is a douchebag in somebody else's world. The university scheduled her final for Thursday, of all days. Thursday.)

Scene 4, library front desk:
Professor Bean observes many signs that say: "No food or drink" and "Please turn off your cell phones." She wanders down to the person sitting next to the front door. There sits a young man with inexplicable hair and earbuds screwed into the sides of his head. Professor Bean stops before him, obviously wanting his attention. He ignores Professor Bean, staring into his book. He appears to be painting the entire page with yellow highlighter. Professor Bean feels a bond: She always enjoys coloring, too. He gives up and looks her way; Professor Bean smiles encouragingly; he sends Professor Bean a filthy look and grudgingly takes off his earbuds.

Professor Bean: "I see that a lot of people are breaking the rules about food around the library. Is there any way we can get them to clean up and avoid eating in here? The second floor smells like eggrolls."

He rolls his eyes and looks at poor Professor Bean as though as she has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. "It's the end of the semester. Students are busy. They have to eat when they can."

Professor Bean: "But they don't have to eat in here. It's not good for the collection or the common areas. The weather is nice. They can eat outside on benches. They can eat at the union."

He looks at Professor Bean: again, then slides his eyes off to the sides of his head: "Yeah, I'll get right on it."

Scene 5, deep stacks on the 6th floor:
Professor Bean takes her books and notebooks into the stacks, deeper and deeper, up many flights of stairs, to the carrels on the 6th floor, where only graduate students and librarians roam.

We're Guessing He Was Probably a Bit of a Sour Leprechaun.

God Almighty, but I am sick of hearing academics sniveling about how hard their jobs are. Sure, there are occasional frustrations, but this bitter, hard-done-by whining, moaning and kvetching about being exploited is just totally incommensurate with any considered, measured view of reality. Now, having said that, I will admit straight off that my own view, having been a professor for fifteen years, is that it is the best job in the world. I love it at least 95% of the time, and I earnestly wish that those who disagree would move on and let just one of the many, many people who would like to replace them do so---because it is a job for those who are inspired and driven from within, not for those who arrive at work sullen and resentful, feeling the lash of the administration upon their backs.

But before anyone accuses me of being a Pollyanna, let me describe what I think is the realistic view I alluded to above which should temper all of our opinions. Before I earned my PhD (but, in some cases, after I earned my M.A.), I worked at some truly horrific jobs. I did these jobs for the same reason that the vast majority of the world works: because I needed the money, and these were the best jobs I could get in the moment. In my case, I was struggling to pay off my tuition and just stay alive while not deviating from other goals I had set myself, but the point is that I did the jobs because I felt I did not have a better choice available.

Three jobs which were certainly among the worst were: (1) cleaning up the site of a burnt building---prying valuable hardware away from charred remains and, over the course of a couple of weeks, gradually filling several large dumpsters with burnt junk, and a couple of oil drums with valuable stuff; (2) working for several weekends in the laundry room of an enormous hotel, where the piles of often disgustingly filthy sheets and towels were filled with all manner of imaginable refuse, including vermin and insects, and were, I assure you as a fit and even somewhat burly man, unimaginably heavy once they had been put in the laundry bags which had to be hoisted onto hooks to go in the automatic washers; (3) playing a "leprechaun" at a local zoo for several days, in a totally ridiculous costume and make-up, without any script, and without any specific instructions but to entertain people, though with plenty of abuse from both officials of the zoo and from the customers.

Now, truly, these are conditions in which many people, perhaps most people, work: filth, physical trauma and humiliation. So the fact that there is some occasional unpleasantness in academia to do with tedium or lack of appreciation hardly seems so much to bear. Moreover, even if marking or teaching or attending committee meetings could be compared in any way, it has to be said that the hours at which we are actually responsible for being a certain place and doing a certain thing are minuscule compared to other jobs: the rest of the time, we drive ourselves to fulfill our responsibilities in the way which seems most appropriate. Still, I imagine that some people will object that the jobs I mentioned were merely temporary and not careers and that, given the sort of extremity I have described, no one would last more than a couple of weeks---although that would deny the reality of the indefatigably cheerful Colombian immigrant I worked with in the hotel laundry, who had been there eight years by that time, and from I learned the true meaning of philosophical stoicism.

But even were that so, let me offer you what remains the more poignant touchstone of moral correction for me: the thought of my father, a steel-worker who, for the decade and a half that I knew him, would rise at 5:30 am at least five and more usually six days a week and not return home until after 6:00 pm, often with cuts and burns on his hands and legs, and always with parts of his body still a little blackened with soot and filth, despite the shower he had taken. And that went on day after day for years on end. To complain of my job would, to him, be completely absurd and even inconceivable.

Finally, I just want to add that the thing that really maddens me is how many people will complain about the lack of time they have to do their jobs, and yet will waste a good half hour on exactly that complaint. There are many outside the university who think of academics as being lazy, unrealistic, self-indulgent, carping, pretentious flakes. Let's try not to prove them right.

Friday, December 14, 2007

A Lot of Sad Stories at Semester End, and Chester Ends Up Under the Wheels of A Proffie Who Hoped A Lesson Had Already Been Learned.

Oh, Chester the Cheater. I really thought you had learned. Last semester, when you handed in a paper whose introduction was taken verbatim from an online encyclopedia and I promptly caught you, I thought something had really gotten through to you. You apologized (despite claiming it was meant to be an epigraph), took your zero without a fuss, and managed to pass the class anyway, despite my intense scrutiny of every single thing you turned in thereafter. I was pleased--proud even. I thought perhaps you had learned some kind of lesson, if not about academia, life, and honesty, then about plagiarizing web sources for me.

Why did I allow myself these delusions? Maybe because you were smart, engaged, and had a respectable grasp of the English language. Maybe I thought that your choice of me as an instructor in this second semester was your way of saying that you were glad to have been caught in your cheating and had learned the error of your ways.

And then I opened up your final paper. I thought it was extra dandy how you included a quote from the source you were plagiarizing a book review of. Boy, would I have been impressed if I hadn't had Google. I must say I was further impressed by your willingness to go the extra mile and change the introductory phrases to sentences so that they wouldn't be perfect matches. It's a shame that I'm actually not a moron and choose phrases from within the sentences to check.

Since this paper is the largest proportion of your grade (which wasn't that healthy to begin with), I don't think you're going to scrape that pass this semester, and I must say that you're one of the few students for whom I'm almost willing to do the paperwork to get your ass in additional administrative trouble. Did you seriously imagine this ending well for yourself? If so, I hope the ending that you imagined was being taken outside and told that you might as well just go home, since you weren't going to pass. Because that's exactly what you got.

Where - We Think - Homer Simpson Appears For the First Time on RYS. Unthinkable!

Many of you had advice for this week's Big Thirsty contestant. Most had something to do with booze, which brought a little tear to our eye.

  • Actually, the first few semesters are the hardest. After a while, you become much more economical. For instance, I’ve discovered that letting my dogs sniff each student paper and watching for their reaction is a perfectly effective – and very efficient – grading system. (Me: What do you think of this one, Rex?) Honestly, after a couple of years, you will develop efficiencies and you will have files of materials that will make class prep easier. Over break, You should work on your syllabus, read in your field, work on your own stuff, AND drink yourself blind. As for hateful, superannuated colleagues, there is not a goddamned thing you can do. Today during the small talk before a meeting, I made a mildly witty if obvious remark without the slightest acknowledgment from my colleagues sitting across the table. Then the Chair walked in, caught the drift of the conversation, made the exact same witticism I had made, and these two old codgers just about peed through their Depends laughing at the joke. Next to these guys, I’ll take a roomful of precious snowflakes. Now, where’d I leave my beer?

  • It never gets any better. In the words of Homer Simpson, "Beer, now there's a solution."

  • Let’s see: sleep in most mornings for starters. Do some of your own stuff as a nice change of pace. Remember that 90% of the problems are caused by 10% of the brats. When you do your syllabus, be anal-retentive. Note things like “I do not accept late submissions” or “If you miss a midterm exam, I will add the weight to the final exam – no makeup exams will be given”. The latter will save countless grandparents’ lives. Tests and meetings just suck. I can’t help you there. Go ahead and drink. I do. It can help. If you’re a beer drinker, try Sam Adams and Harpoon’s winter beers. The Dogfish Head 60 Minute and 90 Minute IPAs are expensive but good. The latter is 9% alcohol so the buzz is quicker. If you like scotch, try the Cragganmore. Expensive but damned good. Hang in there. The first semester is an absolute bitch. Once you get used to it, it’s not so bad.

  • If you feel worn out at the end of the semester, you are in fact working too hard. I don't know what your university requires in terms of service, scholarship, and teaching, but you need to strike a balance. My first guess is that part of the problem is in your syllabi. Look through them and cut out at least a third of all graded work. Or, convert graded work to "checked and handed back" work. No one says you have to read every morpheme the little darlings write, and if someone somewhere in the department says "hey, you didn't grade half of these assignments," you can say "I'm an advocate of grading for assessment; research shows that grading too early and too often has a detrimental effect on intrinsic motivation, and makes me want to take an ax to my students in a mad and futile effort to do them damage with my spindly little professor arms."

  • If you hope to "wake up by January 13th," I assume your semester begins then. My semester begins on January 5th. You suck.

Yes, But We Still Haven't Heard From MTV.

  • I’m confused by the “Compound” video. In seven days, am I going to get a mysterious phone call and then die a horrible death?

  • Don't quit your day jobs.

  • You are mad, mad, mad, and beautiful geniuses!

  • You can make the compound look all scary, but I still want to come.

  • The guitar player sucks, but the drumming is sort of cool.

  • It's two minutes and fifty seconds that I could watch over and over. I want to curl up and crawl inside your voice.

  • You guys are seriously the coolest dudes on the planet.

  • Go back to criticizing students. That song is so lame.

  • You must give us the lyrics. I'm convinced there are secrets in the words and the images that will allow us to unlock the mysterys of RYS. If I'm right, one line is, "In the dark, nobody sees your scars." That is seriously spooky stuff. And right on the money. You really aren't professors, right? You're shamans.

  • Your song blows, grandad.
---


(Going Down To The) Compound

They built it out of stone.
Rock, gravel and bone.
People who live there, honey,
Look like they’ve been burned by the sun.

They don’t have a phone.
They’re hardly ever at home.
They’re out back in the desert,
Where the wolves have been known to run.

Going down to the compound to get my fix.
Breaking down those little, little walls, brick by brick.

Well the night comes down hard.
In the dark nobody sees your scars.
You’d never know it from looking at them, baby,
But those boys have been known to howl.
They pile into the car
Find some little shitty roadside bar.
And they get blind under the neon,
And get up in the morning.
But I don’t know how.

Going down to the compound, just going to follow that smell.
Like something died out there in the desert, but you never can tell.

Looks like they got me surrounded.
The big one makes me kneel.
“You wanna take an oath or something, fella.”
Yes, I believe I will.

Going down, going down, to the compound.
Going down, going down, to the compound.
Going down to the compound didn’t even tell my friends
Going down, going down, to the compound

(Going Down To The) Compound: Two Minutes and Fifty Seconds None of Us Will Ever Get Back Again.

video

Breaking News: The Archives Are Now All Online!

All of the posts from the original regime are now online! This was the period from 11/3/2005 to 2/8/2006, when the legendary "The Professor" ran this blog on his own. (Here's a post that captures some of the history for anyone new to the page.)

We've added 24 posts from November 2005, 22 posts from December 2005, 50 from January 2006, and then 18 from the first part of February 2006.

Browse down the right hand bar of this page and you can select the month and year. Enjoy the spoils from back in the day.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

The Big Thirsty Question: But Of Course We've Been Drinking Since the Middle of the Semester, So Maybe We're Not the Ones To Ask.

Q: I've just finished my first semester of full-time teaching, and I feel as though I've been beaten with sticks. How does one make a career of this? What I really want to know is what veteran profs do to recharge for the next semester. I honestly feel like I can't walk into another classroom full of brats, or face another set of miserable tests, or trudge to another faculty meeting, or reschedule (for the 9th time) a committee meeting with colleagues who seem moldy and hateful. Should I be working throughout the break on my syllabus, reading in my field, working on my own stuff, or should I just drink myself blind and hope that I wake up by January 13th? Help me!


Suck It.

The responses to what we thought was a somewhat heartening missive from Mr. Real World have caught us off guard. (We're rarely surprised anymore.) But we thought we must post at least one of several emails that pretty much say the same thing.


Dear Mr. Real World,

After reading your post about how lucky you are and how cushy your job is I have two words. Suck it.

Goodie for you that with only a B.A. you have a cushy tenure job somewhere in the bowels of the country. I’m happy for you. However before you start to spread your sunshine and “other perspective” stop a minute to think that most of the people who teach, or are trying to teach at universities, have had to get twice the education that you have and more than twice the price. After all this they are met with adjunct teaching positions, ungrateful students, and even more ungrateful administration who often treat them like yesterday's garbage. One of us is just as good as the next.

This means that with twice the education at twice the cost we are getting half (maybe less) the pay per class with no job security. So before you chuckle at how jaded we all are take a moment to consider you are an anomaly not the rule. So, suck it.

Poignant. Right? This Time of Year Makes Everything So Poignant and Shit.

As I sit here wishing for sex on the beach (the drink or the actuality would be great, both would be fabulous), I am actually sitting in the back of my high-tech computer classroom loosely supervising my class as they fret and sweat over their final.

Over there is my candidate for most likely to be in jail this time next term. He disappeared for a few weeks around midterms, due to run-ins with the law and expulsion from the family home. I cut him a break, and haven't seen him for at least four weeks. Shocked the shit out of me when he sauntered in, all blinged up, to take the final. Doesn't he know that this is a monster waste of his time as he has failed to turn in two out of the three major papers? To you, juvy boy, I wish you the best of luck. You'll make some nice convict a sparkly prison bitch.

Oh. There are my cheating cheerleaders. (Did I mention that this particular class is dual credit? Meaning that there are fifteen high school seniors mixed in with my ten real college students. I have to excuse absences for out of town games and hear about homecoming for God's sake. They are so young. And stupid. The flakiest of all snowflakes.) To you, ladies, I would advise at least cheating intelligently. Submitting the exact same essay, with identical streaks where one of your printers is low on ink, with the same spelling and grammatical errors is insultingly obvious. Good luck with those Mrs. degrees. You should try and finish up while you've still got the eighteen year old cheerleader ass in your favor.

Then there's the bright spot in the class. The tall, dark, ex-fireman (one of the few remaining college students who hasn't been run off by the antics and inanities of the high schoolers), who, if caught on film in Hollywood, would have that fuzzy mist fuzz around him. I'm quite happy in my own relationship, but thank God for eye candy. Especially eye candy that gives a shit about the class.

I'm off now. I think I'll go home, mix up a pitcher of sex on the beach, and try and convince my significant other, battle weary from the trenches of the much fancier private university up the road, to have some sex on our beach. (We don't really have one anywhere nearby, but the study floor is good, and who wants sand in their ass crack anyway?)

Wishing you all happy holidays, and lovely fantasies to revert back to come January when we're all confronted with the glassy-eyed snowflake stare once again.

Someone Goes Old School With the Smackdown, And Gets RYS-Cred Points For Getting In a Zombie Reference.

K: I've received your final paper, and I just want you to know that it is truly adorable of you to turn it in. On its own, it's a fine piece of work: the 17-point font really shows off your flair for the whimsical, and the lack of any citation or a bibliography demonstrates a true knack for simplicity and spareness. As the final assignment of the semester, this paper represents the culmination of all your hard work. Indeed, I imagine you busily typing away at this masterpiece since the end of September, which was the last time you turned in any work for this class. And your mastery of the material beautifully reflects your attendance record: those three weeks of missed class really enhanced your ability to think about what we've read. But most of all I'm impressed that you went to all this work at the end of the semester to show me just how much you've learned in my class. That you turned a paper in at all shows that you still believe you have some hope of passing this course. And that is just precious.

D: You've achieved this semester what no other student has ever achieved: you've managed to get caught plagiarizing in my class not just once, but twice. No other student has ever managed to do this because no other student has managed to stay in my class after having been caught once. But after catching you the first time, your belligerent attitude and your completely incoherent protestations that you knew not what you did convinced me, in a moment of weakness, to cut you just the tiniest amount of slack. Like the hard worker you are, you took that slack, promptly fashioned the world's tiniest noose with it, and somehow managed to squeeze your over-inflated head into it. Bravo!

To my morning class: Six or seven of you are great: you care about the material, you do the work, you talk in class. I love you, I love you, I love you. The rest of you, however, may actually be in comas and simply not realize it. When I came to this school, I was warned that some of our students are under the mistaken impression that they are actually auditioning for "Dawn of the Dead." If this is indeed what you are up to, you need to work on your acting—zombies *want* brains, remember? Your glassy-eyed stares, total lack of response to stimuli,and ability to remain completely mute and motionless for extended periods of time would make you much better suited to roles as vegetative patients in hospital dramas. Of course, at some point during your four years here, you might consider stretching your dramatic repertoire to include the part of "student at a university," too.

Someone Who's Done 25 Years In the 'Real World' Shines a Light on the Privilege He Feels as a Prof.

I’ve been reading RYS regularly for about a year now, and I would like an opportunity to inject a different perspective to the discussion.

I am tenure track at a large, private university east of the Mississippi. I’m in my fifth year here, and that is also the sum total of my teaching experience, and, for that matter, my academic experience, subsequent to earning my B.A. in 1978. I teach in a small arts college that is kind of a stepchild at this university, which is known mostly for engineering and the hard sciences. My college hires primarily from industry rather than academia. In my program, we all have had substantial professional careers, as have most of the faculty in the other programs.

I was 47 when I took this teaching job, and still carry on with my outside career as much as teaching full time will allow. In my “other” profession, the 70-hour workweek is fairly common. ALL jobs are freelance, so everyone in the business either operates at a high level or doesn’t work. Having a bad day at work can mean losing a client permanently. All compensation is negotiated on a “per job” basis, and your rate varies with the client, the circumstances, your expertise, how badly you need the work, etc. Even after you reach a point where you are regularly getting work, you often have to jump through hoops to actually get paid (usually after 90 days), and every year there is always a small percentage of clients who stiff you, leaving you with nothing. You need an iron will and very high level of self esteem, as there is very little in the way of respect for or acknowledgement of your talents, save that next phone call with a gig from a satisfied client. No collegiality. No tenure. No departmental awards. No raises except for whatever you are able to negotiate for yourself each job. No peer review. No grants. No administrative help. No holiday parties. No spring, summer, winter, or Thanksgiving breaks. And, or course, being freelance means long periods without any pay at all.

At school, I come in, teach two or three classes per term, and take summers off. I only teach Tuesdays and Thursdays, and once I’ve put in my 5 hours of teaching, I see students for an hour or two each day. I come in one other day (usually Wednesday) per week for a full day of meetings and extra office hours, and once in a while, I need to do something on a Monday or Friday in order to accommodate someone else’s schedule. I advise a dozen seniors on their year long Senior Projects. I run a club for students who want more experience in the field, and we meet once a week.

I’m on two search committees, the Admissions committee, the Faculty Development committee, and I’m involved in some other small projects aimed at improving our young program. I work a bunch of extra weekends each year helping out with recruitment functions.

Guess what? I love it here, and compared to what I did the first 25 years of my career, it’s a BREEZE. I probably put in about 40 - 50 hours total each week, but a lot of that work is done at home, at my convenience, and in my pajamas. I get to teach what I know to students who (mostly) want to learn it. My work is respected by my peers and by the administration, none of who feel the need to micromanage what I do in the classroom. You should all try working with some know-nothing client who feels entitled to backseat drive every detail of the work because “I may not have your skill or experience, but I’m paying the bills, and I’ll know it when I see it.”

We have tuition remission here for faculty and staff (my son is attending the University at virtually no expense right now), and a generous retirement benefit. Before I started teaching, I paid for my family’s health insurance out of my pocket, and had to do the same for any retirement saving.

I get the feeling that many of you who contribute to RYS are substantially younger than I am, probably in your 20’s and 30’s, and have gone directly from B.A. to M.A. to PhD to the ivory tower. I have two children, a “tweener” and a freshman in college. As a parent for the last 20 years, I’ve had more than ample experience dealing with bullshit excuses, outright lies, sullen mumblings, rude interruptions, poor personal hygiene, disrespect, and underachievement FROM MY OWN CHILDREN. With that kind of “on the job” training under my belt, my students’ lapses don’t bother me at all. They’ll either learn or fail, and I have no problem being “Professor Hardass” (holding their work under the microscope, taking attendance, not accepting late work, requiring professional behavior), because I know how the world will treat them. If all goes to plan, I’ll have tenure in a year and a half, and a guaranteed income for the rest of my working life.

Try finding that one outside the ivy-covered walls. I’m not saying that there isn’t anything to bitch about here in the Academy. People can get very intense and political, and there is a high level of drama among the faculty, with much jockeying for position and attention from the higher-ups. Administration is obsessed with the bottom line, and most of our college’s programs have funding issues and are understaffed. There is a lot of petty bullshit, and a ridiculous amount of paperwork needed to get even small things accomplished.

All I’m saying is that for so many of you, this is all you know, and I think it’s pretty easy to become jaded and dissatisfied without much in the way of comparison. I read entry after entry in RYS, and usually chuckle and empathize with most. Sometimes I get mad at students and colleagues and feel the urge to add my voice to the choir, but it rarely lasts. After I got my B.A. thirty years ago, I had lots of jobs while struggling to build a career in my chosen field, including working at a fruit stand, stringing tennis rackets, managing a small shoe store, and serving as a prep cook to a crazy screaming Romanian chef. Call me a Pollyanna, but I think we could all take a step back and realize how privileged we all are to do this for a living.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

The Story of Early-Exit Ed. A Cautionary Tale. A Love Story. Who Knew Grading in Pencil Would Bring Such Joy?

I have many, many joys in my life, and I am grateful for the wonderful people who love me and this career I adore, in that order. I'm also grateful for you, "Ed."

You showed up to class ten to fifteen minutes late every day. You left ten to twenty minutes early-- after which, of course, I ridiculed you in front of the rest of the class. On Friday, you showed up twenty minutes late and left ten minutes early. You also went to the bathroom for twelve full minutes (I timed) during which your phone announced that it had a text message of no doubt vital importance. Finally, a student fished it out of your coat and turned it off, mere seconds before I stomped on it. You were in class a total of 17 minutes.

When nearly the entire class did not read, and I sternly -- and perhaps even excessively -- yelled at them for it, you laughed out loud at my obvious frustration and hurt. Then you suggested that those who did the work should get extra credit.

At least once a week, you suggested that we should leave early (which you did anyway, so why suggest it?), and on several occasions you implied that coming to class at all on a Friday is a virtue.

Here's why I'm grateful. Because you left class early on the Friday before finals week, you didn't get a chance to pick up your papers,which I had graded. One of them was borderline, and this is one of those unusual cases in which a couple points mean the difference between passing my class, and failing it. I grade in pencil.

So many joys in my life.

Opening the Mail.


This was not our idea.

One of the moderators has a grad assistant who helps organize this page. You may know her from previous entries as Saucy Susan (nee Chatty Cathy), although we hear she prefers Crafty Katie now.

Anyway, she thought it'd be a hoot to publish the opening lines of every piece of mail (minus the regular contingent of porn and spam) that was in our mailbox one day. We thought she was crazy. Seriously, not just as a joke, seriously freaking nuts. But she did the work, so who are we to say "Stop!"

Here's how the mail works at the compound. Typically, one of the moderators does a first pass through the morning mail, forwarding the 10-12 "best" or most "interesting" or "liveliest" posts to the rest of us. This happens in the wee hours of the morning (Pacific time), and usually takes about 90 minutes, depending on how hungover the moderator is.

Then once the best posts of the day have shot around electronically, whoever the moderator is for that day picks 2-3 that were the most well-met by the others, and does the necessary editing. Sometimes we edit a LOT, often pulling out pieces of a post that simply stray from the main point. Then either the moderator or Crafty Katie (and sometimes Katie's boyfriend Earnest Eddie) puts together a wry (and fuzzy) graphic, and puts the whole shebang online.

That wasn't nearly as interesting as we thought it might be when we started typing it.

Anyway, you get our drift. Katie has pulled together the following list. Please to enjoy:

---

  1. I have just about had it with the nonsense.


  2. And I thought finals week was hard when I was on the other side.


  3. Whether or not you guys read this I'm going to feel better having written it.


  4. I’m sure you’re getting flooded with these now that one of our colleagues has posted some interesting excuses. Here are some of mine.


  5. Winter weather advisory today, as well as my final art critiques, not a good mix for me or my students.


  6. Good morning, RYS. Let's get it started with a story about a big fat liar!


  7. My colleague told me about this page and I though he was joking.


  8. I'm a first year grad student in English.


  9. Not only did yesterday's post make me mad, I found myself telling my husband about it, and he doesn't even teach.


  10. What right do you have to publish student writing without permission?


  11. I don't know why I'm even sending this, since you haven't published any of my other smackups.


  12. Really? You really want to keep writing about Nancy Nutjob?


  13. I can't believe the endless whinging that goes on here is good for anyone.


  14. When did you publish that list of student excuses earlier, I can't find it.


  15. Did you see the article in the Chronicle today about plagiarism?


  16. Got the calender today!


  17. I love my students daily.


  18. Feel free to edit out all the fucks and shits in my post.


  19. Could you send me your mailing address so that I can submit an article?


  20. What frivolity!


  21. My youngest starts college this spring, and I hope she doesn't meet any of you assholes.


  22. What are you afraid of?


  23. Where did "snowflakes come from?


  24. Would you be willing to trade links with my blog?


  25. I'm a professor emeritus on the west coast, and I just found this site today.


  26. Don't you reply when someone sneds you a story? I've been waiting since yesterday.


  27. My last class just left the lab and all I want to do is light a big fattie.


  28. You are not going to get to me, you mewling freshmen.


  29. I'd like you to print more posts showing the positive elements of bing a college professor.


  30. Please print the following as is.


  31. Could you post a list of the most visited articles from this year?


  32. Best. Post. Ever.


  33. Your understanding of haiku is about as good as my understanding of astrophysics. That is to say not very good.


  34. Would you use my accompanying graphic if I sent it in?


  35. I want to tell all of my teachers that I'm sorry for the kind of student I'e been.


  36. You guys crack me up!


  37. Count me among the Rystafarians.


  38. Once, when I was still a grad student, I thought that I would one day become one of the cool professors.


  39. What time is it where you are?


  40. I couldn't believe that my students had the nerve to rise up en masse against me.


  41. You guys really made my day!


  42. Do you remember a post I sent you a few weeks ago about a plagirism case in my class?


  43. Doesn't anyone there know the correct usage of semi-colons?


  44. I'm a professor of Medieval Literature, and not a fan of your blog.


  45. Oh, my darling young ones, you don't know what's coming next do you?


  46. Have you seen this?


  47. There was a movie once that I saw, that I bet you would really like.


  48. Is there a world record for angst?


  49. I'm a professor of color who'd like to ask you a question.


  50. Save me from these fucking students!


  51. I live right across from a large student apartment.


  52. When I saw my research paper grade, I just had to laugh.


  53. English is not for my first language, so forgive me.


  54. What happened to that dancing elf post?


  55. Don't you guys support RSS?


  56. When I think back on this semester, all I'm going to remember is Cheeky Charlie and his whoppers.


  57. I'm a sophomore who has 2 professor/parents, and they never let up.


  58. Would you quit bumping that calendar post to the top? If we wanted the thing we'd have ordered it by now. I bet you're going to lose money on that shit anyway.


  59. I'm disgusted by what I read today.


  60. There are things to love and hate in academia.


  61. Have you ever thought about a poll that would ask people if they were Male, Female, or Other? taht'd be hilarious.


  62. Marlon Malcontent was the last student I wanted to see today.


  63. If I didn't work harder than my students, I wouldn't be doing anything at all.


  64. Ihave such a big crush on Hugh Grant.


  65. I got an email from you last week about my post. I've lost it, and wanted to know what you said.


  66. Here's my haiku: Birds on a powerline.


  67. Did any of you actually read that Newsweek article?


  68. You should link this page to other academic blogs like mine.


  69. What's the latest haps on Wicked Walter? You gotta get hima weekly spot.


  70. I read about this site in the NY Times last year and I have to say, I wasn't impressed at first.


  71. I know I told you little dears that you could have until Friday for your papers, but whoops!


  72. Where are the postings from 2005?


  73. You guys did not invent "snowflakes" as a phrase. I've heard it used before.


  74. Do you ever get tired of being such crybabies?


  75. I'm a freshman with a 4.0 Gpa and I can tell you I earned everyone of those points.


  76. I can't see your graphics right now. Is there a server problem?


  77. Do you think a EdD degree is as good as a PHD?


  78. Am I missing an inside joke on "big thirsty"?


  79. It's clear that nobody here ever taught at a religious college.


  80. If you post these comments, please keep me anonymous.


  81. You should post the email address of "Thomas the Troubadour" so we could all tell him how great his Christmas poem was.


  82. I'm an adjunct, and it makes me mad to think of you full timers who seem to hate your students.


  83. You all suck.


  84. What would you think about a set of links that just showed students what to avoid?


  85. Outside my office right now is the biggest doofus I've ever had in class.


  86. When cute little Amanda told me about her vacation plans, I just laughed.


  87. Reading and writing. That's what I teach. But nobody here seems to understand that.


  88. I'm so sick of the way I get treated.


  89. You rocked my day with those student blog posts. I've started prowling around looking for the same stuff.


  90. Our Dean is the biggest piece of shit manipulator that there has ever been.


  91. Why don't you write about your own classes?


  92. I can't believe so many of you are so depressed about a job that just about anybody would love to have.


  93. I don't think anything you post is really real.


  94. That peeing post cracked me up.


  95. Terrible Tim walked right in.


  96. You cannot miss the final and pass the class. Don't you get it?


  97. Reading quietly one afternoon, I heard a knock at my office door.


  98. When the phone rang, I knew it had to be a student


  99. Recently, I found that my tolerance for utter and complete bullshit had been broached.


  100. My own kids know the value of a good grade.


  101. I did an informal poll of my colleagues, and we all think the same thing.


  102. Congratulations, snowflakes. You've pissed off the monster in me.


  103. I can't believe you finally published me. And it wasn't even one of my better efforts.


  104. You people need a big Prozac or something.


  105. When Weeping Wendy told me her sob story, I knew it was a lie right away.


  106. I told my wife about this, and she thought I should send it to you.


  107. When you get posts from people, do you always know if the senders are real or not?


  108. I'm attaching some funny photos you might want to use. The first one is of a nun spanking a kid, circa 1950 or so.


  109. Did you make up those student posts? I can't find the original versions anywhere.


  110. Can you post this for me?


  111. What other blogs do you read regularly.


  112. I'm exactly nine days away from finishing my Masters program.


  113. I'm spending more time reading your old posts than I am my student essay.


  114. Rewind things, would you? When did it become okay for sissified professors to bitch all day about a job they chose?


  115. Here's a link to an article I wrote about student ethics last year. I believe your readers will really find it fascinating.


  116. I carried a full load plus some this semester, and it has exhausted me.


  117. Just as I opened up RYS this morning, my favorite Neil Young song came on my iPod.


  118. Here's a hilarious thing that happened in my class this semester.


  119. When do you find the time to do all of this?


  120. Good for you. You've filled up Ratemyprofessor with a pack of lies. Now I get my revenge.

  121. There is hell. And then there is grading hell.

RYS Calendar Slideshow

Here is a quickie slideshow showing most of the pages from the RYS Calendar.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Nancy Nutjob Returns: Momma-Bear is Way Way Way Bananas.

Oooh, you are all bad boys!

I love that you posted my mash note. You are truly gentlemen of the highest order. But "Nancy Nutjob"? Didn't you like how I signed it: "Momma-Bear"?

Anyway, I just love visiting your blog, and imagining all the cool things you do in the compound. Who is the genius behind the photos? That one of Kant-Z singing with Beyonce cracked me up. You must have a true artiste in the midst. Could you give me his name and email? I'd love to send more of my own photos in.

Now, I have some more stories for you about students. They love me here, and even though I'm old enough to be their mothers - but more nimble! - they really take me into their hearts as a friend, too.

One student, who just finished his final, wrote this on the back page of his blue book:


"Dr. Nancy, I couldn't have made it through this semester without your stories. You make class such a fun time, and I know I learned a lot. I don't know if this final is good enough to get an A, but I really enjoyed writing it, knowing that you'd be so challenging when you graded it. I like how this class has really made me think and try hard."

That's the highest compliment, boys. That's why I keep teaching. I just know he's going to get his A.

Now, before I leave you to your compound shenanigans, I promise to send in more photos (including some of the twins - my King Cavaliers - Dexter and Dickie) if you promise not to call me Nancy Nutjob again, okay? Do we have a deal.

Yummy yummy yummy again. I can't wait to see what posts you'll bring us tomorrow.

Luff & Kizzes,
Momma-Bear


PS: Won't you really tell us where the compound is? I'll bring the salt!

It Should Not Surprise You That We Get a Lot of Manifestos at the Compound. Few Have All of the Words Spelled Correctly.

Dear Students,

This might surprise you guys but a lot of profs around here—gasp!—complain about the students. I'm here to say that a good chunk of this complaining stems from a mistake on our part.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm as tired of you indignant little unliterates as the next prof. (The Urban Dictionary defines an "unliterate" as a person who appears to know how to read and/or write however refuses to do so either knowingly or unknowingly.) I'm so jaded by you and your excuses that I don't even give a crap when MY OWN grandma dies. But I'm not here to bash you or your whiny excuses. I'm here to bash me and my whiny colleagues.

The gist of our whining is this. You people have no interest in learning anything. This is why you never really do the reading or any of the assignments—hell, you don't even the read the syllabus. If you do anything at all, you do what it takes to make it look like you've done the work. What that amounts to ranges from doing the absolute bare minimum, to not even doing the absolute bare minimum but pathetically trying to give the appearance that you have (16 point font anyone?), to outright criminal activity. (A few semesters ago a student plagiarized her 3000-level philosophy course term paper from something written by Wilfrid Sellars. That's a little like handing in the U.S. Constitution as your poli-sci paper.)

We know, we know: there are exceptions. And we love you who are the exceptions. You are what keeps us going—both of you. (I promise to pass on the next easy shot.) Even though exceptions exist, this is the rule and you people really ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Seriously.

What's wrong with this complaint about you people is not that it isn't generally true. It is true. What's wrong with it is that overlooks the fact that your behavior is not only understandable but perfectly rational and justified. Here's why. All your life, you've been given very good evidence that the rules you live under are, for the most part, completely ungrounded, enforced more or less at whim, and written up and represented by people even dumber than you. So why should you bother following them?

You can fill in your own examples. Think about all those times you knew that some rule or practice was silly and unnecessary. When you asked why you should follow it, they said, "Because it's the rule" or "Because I said so." And you knew those aren't really reasons. If you decided to break the rule, maybe you got caught, maybe you didn't. When you were caught, the punishment wasn't what they said it would be. It was usually more lenient or it was nothing at all. In the rare case where the punishment was stiff, it might have convinced you not to break the rule (or at least not to get caught breaking it). It didn't convince you that the rule isn't stupid. And why should it? But, assuming you aren't reading this from inside a correctional facility, you learned to put up with it and follow the rules anyway (or at least make it look that way).

Your experience at this place is more of the same. There are a bunch of rules and requirements that look really stupid to you. This is because they are. (Don't forget to use your new 28-digit ID# when you register for that mandatory health class.) But even when they aren't stupid, no one can really prove that to you. And even if they can, it doesn't matter because you learned to stop asking about that kind of thing a long time ago. You learned to get along by following (or pretending to follow) the rules even though your heart isn't really in it. And that, you've found, is good enough for us.

That's why you don't even read the syllabus. And why should you? You've got really good evidence that a syllabus consists of either vapid nonsense ("this course will facilitate critical thinking skills necessary to face the critical problems in tomorrow's world of critical tomorrows bleh, bleh, bleh") or policies that are never enforced. (What did the syllabus say would happen when you didn't bother to show up for the exam? What really happened?)

If the syllabus isn't a bunch worthless nonsense, the course is. It's nothing that you are interested in even if it is part of your major. That's because your major is uninteresting. Why major in something uninteresting? That's another question you've learned not to ask. And, unless it's one of these clueless right-out-of-grad-school-I'm-here-to-make-a-difference hardasses, it looks like the prof is privy to the whole thing. That's why he lets you and everybody else pass even though none of you did jack all semester. He keeps his stupid little job; you get your stupid little diploma. In an environment like this, the only thing harder than getting a really good grade is getting a really bad one. That's why you never bother doing any real work. And why should you?

Our whiny exasperation over your pathetic behavior stems largely from a failure to understand this very understandable rationale. Now, what could we (students, profs) do about all this? Profs could probably stop bitching so much about the students. But we won't. For one thing, it's a helluva of a lot fun. (Next time you're at the off-campus pub and you want a good laugh, sit next to the dorky looking "old" guys in the tweed jackets. But don't get offended when they laugh and tell the one about when you cheated on your Ethics exam and then cried like a little nancypants when you got caught.) On the other side, students could probably take their own education and lives seriously. Although I believe everything I've said so far, I also believe that you could get an education at this place and even come out a better person than you were when you came in. But you won't. For one thing, your experiences in life prevent you from taking any talk about "education" or "bettering yourself" seriously at all. And why should you? That's just the kind of meaningless crap you read on a course syllabus. Isn't it?

Seriously,
Mr. Dr. Ass. Prof., Ph.D.

They Can Play Halo for 9 Hours Without Moving, But Can't Hold Their Pee For the Length of Class.

The blog entry about “Ryan” strolling in late got me to thinking about my frequently late miscreants.

The people who come in a few minutes late, carrying their breakfast and their coffee. These will likely be the same people that leave the room 30 minutes into class to take a leak. I’ll see them on time for exams and that’s about it. And yes, I’ll make sure I note that they’re actually in on time.

Then there are those who have a conversation going as they enter the class. It wouldn’t be PC for me to suggest they shut the fuck up, but I sure think about it.

Then, there’s the girl who has to make “the entrance.” All of us know what that means. Either pants that were spray painted on or, if the weather is warm, a low cut top and a skirt high enough to make me realize you shave, not trim. Yes, girls, the guys notice when you come in late. But you might not want to know what they’re thinking. Then again, maybe you might.

On a side note, most of my classes are 75 minutes. I’ve got about 5 or 6 people who must have bladders the size of thimbles. If they can endure 45 minutes of class without racing to the restroom, it’s a miracle. How much hydration does a body need?

Excuses.

  • Adult returning student who decided mid-semester he'd rather work than go to class, said nothing, than e-mailed me the day finals week started to ask if I could "pretty pretty please" (you're a 45-year-old man, why in hell is "pretty pretty please" in your vocabulary???) "give" him a "D" so he could get the hours towards his degree. I told him to turn in his final paper and take his chances like everybody else.

  • A mass of students who left at the break because they decided my class was just too boring for words. I sort of feel their pain, because both the textbook and standard syllabus are fairly excruciating, and it's a required course relatively unrelated to their program of study, but I do go out of my way to make it interesting and relevant and use as little of the textbook as humanly possible. So for the seven who stuck around, I went point by point through one of the essay questions on the final exam.

  • Student who showed up just long enough each class period to inform me her sitter had flaked out YET AGAIN and then left. Didn't do any of the tests or quizzes, not even as make-ups. Turned up on her presentation day (worth a big chunk of the grade), unprepared, and told me, "My sitter flaked out and I have to go home. Is this going to affect my grade?" Hasn't appeared since, nor turned in her final paper, but does not appear to have taken my advice to take a late drop.

  • An apparently imaginary death in the family. Not only an apparently imaginary death, but an apparently imaginary PARENT FIGHTING IN IRAQ death. Student seems to have spaced on the fact that I know her family and that she went out of her way to remind me of this repeatedly throughout the semester in the hopes I'd treat her like the Precious Little Unique Snowflake she is. This one was too hot for me to handle, so I bounced her to student services and told her they have processes for handling students with deaths in the immediate family and will contact her faculty with instructions to give incompletes/allow late work/etc. Haven't heard back.

Monday, December 10, 2007

"Act that your principle of action might safely be made a law for the booty."

I have a surprise for you on this last day of class. I understand from a recent Newsweek article that your parents have been keeping journals for you *your whole lives,* chronicling the specialness you exhibit every single day.

To make the transition to college life easier, I have also been keeping a journal for each of you, all semester, recording the very very special things you do.

Ryan: Your first entry is on the first day of class, when you showed up a very fashionable ten minutes late, with a darling expression of pained boredom on your face. You seemed so above all this first day crap as you rolled you eyes at the syllabus. Unfortunately, I have no other entries for you, as you never appeared in class again. All I have are the precious assignments you submitted online. Apparently you thought this was a correspondence class. Isn’t that cute?

Megan: Your journal is quite full, as you have arrived to every class with so many wonderful things to contribute. Remember that time when you said,“Maybe, like, the Industrial Revolution had something to do with the political changes in the 1800’s?” I couldn’t believe the level of insight! And I’ll never forget the time when you compared Kant’s ethical theory to a Beyonce song. As you said, “They’re kind of the same, but different.”

Josh: I simply had to record your very first words. You did not speak until just before the first big paper was due, and I was worried that you might have some sort of developmental problem. But then you wowed me with, “Are you gonna be, like, real picky about spelling and stuff like that?” I was so proud of you! And that pout you gave me when I answered your question was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

Ashley: Your journal is a carefully assembled scrapbook, full of photographs that record the amazing variety of drool strings you have formed between your mouth and your desk. You are so creative! I hope you will all take your journals home to show to your parents, so they can put aside their worries that your professors are failing to appreciate your wonderful uniqueness!

Listen. When We Mock Something, You'll Know It.

A few readers wrote in last night to take us to task for publishing the links to a number of student blogs yesterday. The complaints mostly went like this:

So I read all the recent RYS Links you provided, to the statements and frustrations of various students on their livejournals, blogs, etc. Am I supposed to shake my head now and chuckle at the stupidities of youth? Am I supposed to sigh and mutter about how the world is going downhill, if this represents the quality of post-secondary students today? Am I supposed to feel outrage on behalf of the professors who have to deal with these unappreciative students? I feel none of these things. I feel sympathy and a mild amount of pity in the face of so much unhappiness. That's all. It's the same thing I feel when I read some professor's outpouring of frustration and unhappiness on this site. And I don't think those students deserve to be mocked.
What we can say is, nobody here was mocking the students. We had a couple of those sent to us by RYS readers, and as we read them - and found more - we were horrified. While we admit to being cynical and jaded about many modern students, that little collection did indeed break our spirit. It made us all wish that this morning we could somehow turn in our Ph.D. hats and instead go to our new jobs at the bank, restaurant, car wash, or the "Buy More."

Like This Person, We Learned Long Ago That the Cocktail Glasses Simply Aren't Big Enough Come Final Exam Time.

Yes, I realize that it has been a full 21 hours since you completed your final exam. Since I have no life outside of teaching intro-level courses to the children who weren't left behind, of course I have set aside most of my other responsibilities to focus on your grade, and your grade alone.

Could I have given it more time? Probably so. What was I thinking when I decided to sleep eight hours rather than staying up late to grade your ruminations on your belief that God has been thrown out of the public schools? And when I was enjoying my breakfast granola this morning, how could I not have pondered that perhaps the answer to question 35 could have been"b" rather than "d" if we look at your interpretation of the words "is" and "compelling state interest"?

At any rate, don't worry your pretty little head, because the registrar requires your grade to be submitted by close-of-business tomorrow. (Isn't it overly generous that they give me a full 48 hours to finish grading? Have your mommy call the dean to complain about that.) At that time, I'll post your grade in Blackboard just like the syllabus says, but I'm sure you'll still want to stop by my office to argue about the D you made on the first exam three month sago, or to insist that you should be allowed to turn in a research paper 6 weeks late without penalty.

Thank goodness I won't be on campus. I'll just be at home drinking and figuring out how to curve up your grade just enough so that you won't be in my course again next semester.

Some New Links That May Break Your Spirit.


  • "Essays Suck Butt."
    I thought today was gonna be the WORST day ever because I had a feeling that I was going have another crappy time in my English class. My professor is so hard on us it just drives everyone insane! I was doing last minute stuff on my revised draft for our new essay and.....it's so crappay, but at least it's not the final essay. XP Anywho, after peer review......we got back our essays from a previous prompt. I would be doomed if I didn't pass this one because it lessen my chances of passing the freaking class!!! She told us half of the class didn't pass this prompt and I was definately sure that I was one of them. Oh man I was dreading when she gave me back my essay portfolio, my legs just went numb all of a sudden. D8 I checked the grade and it was a C+. HO JEAH! I don't care what anyway says, I'm still gonna passing!! XD It's seriously difficult to get a passing grade becasue this teacher is tough! DX But I did it! I think my "passionate" paragraph saved me. XD And now....to make sure I do my very best to pass the next essay. o.o If I pass that one, I'm in the clear. Essays suck butt. >:P

  • "Fuck all them h8rz."
    thank god this semester's almost overrrr. my professors are totally bitchez. but somehow, I still have an overall 4.0, which is pretty sweet. got invited to join phi theta kappa, which is also pretty sweet. I'm also back in dallas. I do volunteer work at a school and work with retarded kids. it's neat. stressful, but neat. other than that there's nothing much going on. I'm still a ridiculously boring person, but no longer a bored person, if that makes sense. but I don't give a fuckkkkk. fuck all them h8rz!

  • "I Hate College."
    There are some days when college seems like the best thing that has ever happened to me, but then, the next day, I'm ready to just drop out and work at McDonald's because I'd rather do that than be here. Really.Example: Today, my roommate and I decided to just not go to HON 130: World Cultures I - Africa because that is the most boring class ever. Instead, we hung out in our room, ate the tri-tin holiday popcorn, and decorated our door and our room for the holidays; it was the most amazing thing ever. We really had a great time doing absolutely nothing, and I loved every second of it. But, tonight, I went to my a cappella group's rehearsal, and usually I look forward to this because it is the highlight of my week - I love my a cappella group. But, the director is/was my best friend on campus, but now he's just being ridiculous and such a jerk to me out of NOWHERE, and it kills me. I hate it, because he was the person I would go to all the time to vent to and to talk with and to have breakfast/lunch/dinner with and to study with, and now he's being the biggest jerk ever. He is completely immature, and it bothers me that I can't talk to him anymore the way I used to be able to. He just snaps at me if I offer an idea while at rehearsal, and he gets angry when the group responds better to me than to him, and then he yells at me for helping out the overall sound of the group. And it annoys me so much. I used to go to him for everything, and now we just butt heads every time we meet.And, my classes are awful, my professors are dry as toast, and I can't wait to get the hell out of here. I know that I won't be any happier at any other school, it'll be this way everywhere. I just can't wait to graduate and get the hell out of CCSU. It'll be the best day of my life.

  • "Harliquin romance novels, sappy soap operas, Disney movies and love songs, three of my favourite things, have all tainted my perception of love."
    After an argument today with my boyfriend, I was reminded of something my professor said a few weeks ago, that love is a metaphor, and does not really exist. This statement was shocking to me at first, a die-hard romantic, but now more and more does it prove to be true. The fights me and my boyfriend keep having are about things he does, that prove to me that he doesn't really love me as he claims. However, it wasn't until today that I took a step back and thought about my own actions. Where was I getting my ideas of what true love really is? Why would I not believe my boyfriend when he told me that he really, truly loves me? Then it hit me. Harliquin romance novels, sappy soap operas, Disney movies and love songs, three of my favourite things, have all tainted my perception of love. At times, I know deep in my heart for sure that my boyfriend loves me and then he does something that convinces me otherwise. Why? Because I had never seen any man in any soap opera or romance novel do some of those things, so that MUST mean he doesn't love me. Now I see how unreasonable I was being. I am comparing my relationship to these make-believe ones, using them as a model of what true love really is. This is why Lipton was right when he said love was a metaphor. Its not an actual thing, its how I look at my boyfriend, and how he makes me feel. Its not something that can be measured. I've had an epiphany. Because of mass communications, my relationship is about to get a whole lot more peaceful.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

A Newbie Proffie Is Already Wise Beyond Years Concerning Student Evals.

Congratulations.

You've written some mean things about me on the "Grade Your Professors" section of MySpace. I'm sure it was cathartic, soothing, fun, or whatever exactly you had hoped it would be. What's strange about this is that your peers seem to disagree with the things you said about me.

Many of my other online evaluations are beyond good -- they're actually quite stellar. What I find particularly interesting, however, is that the official written, signed evaluations collected by the university were overwhelmingly complimentary. Even the ones that expressed a desire for something to change did so in a generally positive, constructive manner.

In particular, in response to your "Lectures are SO boring" quip, I could present 5 signed student evaluations denoting that I, unlike many of my fellow math teachers, went out of my way to bleed my enthusiasm for my subject and to make my classes engaging.

Anyway, you can feel free to write whatever you like on your online forum. I realize that you begrudge me because you were forced by your degree requirements to take college algebra. I know that math isn't your favorite subject, and I'm truly sorry about that. I know that your view of college is akin to a vending machine; you insert your thousands of dollars, press "B9," and it spits out a degree. I understand that challenging you in any way offends you to your very core, and I'm willing to bet that I was guilty of this.

Actually, I'd like to thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson. Last year was my first year in graduate school, and I sincerely hope that it was the first in a long sequence of years of teaching. I would like nothing more than to make a career out of what I'm doing right now. If I'm going to survive these years that I hope are before me, I am going to have to grow a thicker skin. It's going to be important that I am able to ignore your cheap shot from behind your protective cover of MySpace anonymity.

That's why it's important that you understand the following: If you would like to make a comment about my teaching, yet you lack the chutzpah to sign your name to it, then you are a coward -- but more importantly, I am simply not willing to give a shit about you or about anything you say.

Don't Work Harder Than Your Students? Why Not? Somebody Should Try to Get Something Done.

While putting away the dishes this morning, I had a conversation with my spouse about a student in my class who, despite a marginal effort all term long, had done just enough to pass. Then she failed to show for her final exam. Concerned, I emailed her to ask what was going on, and offered her a chance--the last chance before grades were due--to take the exam. She declined. "Work schedule wouldn't permit it," and, she went on, she needed to work to pay for classes.

Frustrated, I wrote back: Why work to pay for classes if your work schedule prevents you from passing them? Anyway. My wife works in the social services, front line stuff at a domestic violence shelter, where she deals with abused children, addicted parents, and huge daily doses of disappointment in people who are unwilling and unable to take the opportunities offered to them to improve their condition. The advice she was given by a senior case worker there: Don't work harder than the clients.

And there it was, sage advice equally applicable to the academic classroom and a potential sanity saver to all of us who care about education. Don't work harder than the students. Once you do, you cross boundaries that lead into the abyss of disappointment, disillusion, and binge drinking. Happy end-of-term.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

The Big Thirsty Responses: What Are Professors' Kids Like?


We were slammed last night with replies to our Big Thirsty question. We're always up against it, but we feel especially bad that we can't give everyone a voice on this one. But we've carefully gone through the mail and believe what we offer this morning is representative of the responses. Please to enjoy:

  • I don’t know about everyone else, but my kids run the gamut. My oldest (who takes after his father) dropped out of high school. The middle one thinks he’s so good looking and such an athlete that he doesn’t have to worry about academics (obviously getting his looks and talent from me and his ego from his dad). The youngest worries if she makes a 99 (now that one I can totally claim!).

  • For years I thought my darling was the one good kid on the planet. She was my honest-to-God dreamchild until the day I watched her finish up an essay over Thanksgiving break. She formatted and printed out the paper about 6 times, each time changing the font size and the margin size so that it would leak onto the 5th page, one of her professor's requirements. She spent more time gaming the system than it would have taken to simply write a more complete paper. I thought, "this is what my students do!"

  • As with the regular population, it depends on the parent. Some professors teach their kids how to manage the system and give excuses, and some teach their kids how aggravating that is. I had a class with someone whose father was a professor in another department - not only did she mention it all the time and name-drop him constantly. It does happen that professors have children who are complete idiots, and I wonder if there's a greater pressure to succeed in college on the part of idiots with smart parents particularly when they have to teach and learn in the same institution.

  • My own children are terrific students. I've never had them in my own classes, but my colleagues tell me all the time how industrious they are. I don't want to get into a parental pissing contest, but if all parents cared for and nurtured their children as I did mine, this website wouldn't exist. Don't let them run wild, and you'll never have a day's worry.

  • Like all of the other breeders, professors who are also parents are blind about their own kids, whether it be in the sandbox or in the classroom. Without fail, when I discover a student of mine is the spawn of one of my fellow professors, that student spends more time getting out of work than doing anything else. And there is always the implied or stated threat of mommy or daddy finding out what a meanie I am.

  • I grew up in the 70s as a chemistry professor's daughter. Maybe it was because of the disconnect between chemistry and my own interests (theatre, writing), but I never viewed my father as some exalted being due to his job/position...in fact, my sister and I barely knew what he did. Going to the lab was cool ("don't touch!") and it was fun to spend a Saturday afternoon in the chemistry building drawing on every single chalkboard in the lecture halls while he graded...but there was nothing that made this life seem remarkable or made us feel entitled in any way. Perhaps I'm biased--or old enough to have escaped the "snowflake world"--but we were regular kids who became regular college students and regular adults. Thinking back about all this, I probably should have appreciated this unusual environment more than I did.

  • No more than two weeks ago, a colleague came into my office to talk about her daughter's progress in my class. She started by saying, "I know you can't know this, but Marisa is really special. She's a special kid, and she's got her whole life ahead of her." It went downhill from there. My ability to teach was questioned, my compassion for students was questioned. I was being instructed in how to teach one precious child who simply didn't exist. "I know she's the best student you've got, because she's my child." That sort of thing. What started politely ended with both of us near tears. This is a prof who I had great respect for, someone who shepherded our college through a recent accreditation visit with steely nerves, great aplbomg, and unerring guidance. But as to her daughter, she was as blind as any parent.

Friday, December 07, 2007

Thomas the Troubadour Hijacks "Academic Haiku Friday" With A Sprawling Ballad.

‘Twas the week before finals
And all through the U,
The students were yawning
And some drooling too.

While papers are now due
Students are at the mall,
With not one single fear
That their good grade might fall.

“I can write it all one night,”
Thinks the tattooed pierced girl,
“I’ll just peek at a Wiki
And give it a whirl.”

They don’t come to class
There is always a reason,
These vary quite little
From season to season.

“A cold” has the tall one,
“With me it’s the flu,”
“My sister’s in jail
And Grandma’s dead too”

“Hangover” “flat tire”
“My boyfriend dumped me,”
“Alarm didn’t go off”
“Had to play with my Wii”

“This class ain’t important,
Many other things are.”
With an attitude like this
Frat boy’s sure to go far.

“I’m going to med school
Organic’s the crux,
Have to go over anatomy
With my buds at Starbucks.”

“After that comes my psych
And the math quiz I missed.
Your class is ‘bout tenth
On my priority list.”

Outside my office
There arose such a clatter.
A line of students?
Now what is the matter?

Here come the grubbers
The beggers and thieves,
With the crap that they’re dishing
I’m going to heave.

“This paper is all mine.
I never would fake,
That you found it on Google
Is just a mistake.”

“You’ll ruin my average
My perfect grade,
A ‘C’ isn’t part
Of the deal that we made.”

“I pay tuition
You give me an ‘A,’
Then everyone is happy
And I’m on my way.”

“Get lost all you losers!”
I wanted to shout,
But the tenure committee
Would then throw me out.

I brought out a six pack
Some pills and a noose
But settled down with exams
and a vodka and juice.

For many this season
Is chock full of cheer
But for profs, December
Requires much beer.

On Dealing With Depression in Students.

Whenever a students try to play the depression card with me, I tell them I'm not qualified to help with depression, which I'm not, and I refer them to Counseling Services, which is part of the campus Health Services.

Any class work the student misses I handle in the same way I handle work missed for any other health problem: I mark it "excused," which means that the grade for that work is voided, with the remainder of the work for the semester counted as 100%, PROVIDED the student brings me a note from Health Services to document that the absence from class really was due to a health problem. If it comes down to the Final Exam determining 100% of the course grade, then so be it. If the student's health precludes taking the final exam and the health center will document this, I give an Incomplete grade and the student may take the Final Exam along with the other students in next semester's class. If it takes more than one semester to make up the Incomplete, the student will need to get an extension to do this from the Registrar, which shouldn't be too difficult.

Faculty shouldn't have to do "hours upon hours talking to advisors" or anyone else if a student has any kind of health problem, including depression. Check your faculty handbook: if you are, something is wrong. Since I typically have over 100 students in my classes each semester, there are far too many for me to be able chase around like this. More importantly, though, if you aren't a medical doctor, you're not qualified to do this kind of work: it's quite probably against the law if your university requires you to do it.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Wayne the Weatherman from Wicomico Walks In With a Big, Big Schtick!

Good morning, fellow RYS-ers. Professor Weatherman reporting from the balmy mid-Atlantic. Temperatures in this region have just dipped below freezing, and the change has had some startling effects on the local college students. No, the sudden drop in temperature has not caused them to run like mad to the library in hope of staying warm while they study for finals. No,the frigid climate has not caused these students to stay in class for the entire class time or, for that matter, to get to class promptly so as to maximize their time in a heated environment. And no, the insanely cold December air has not caused these young intellectuals to cozy up next to their professors in office hours, hoping for last minute clarifications on research paper requirements. No, my fellow teachers,this horrible, horrible change in climate conditions has made students concerned about a much more serious issue: tanning.

Yes, you read that right—tanning. Since we’ve crept under the 30-day mark to the Winter Solstice, more and more students have been seen strolling around campus with that weird orange glow shining outward from their bright, but strangely dyed, faces. There have also been reports of students going for the two-for-one deal on tanning and hair highlights. Some students have even gone past the highlighting stage and moved straight to full-on bleaching. Professors have been frightened by these students and the incomprehensible metamorphoses that they seemed to have undergone overnight. In fact, I’m just receiving word now that one professor in the history department just taught his class wearing sun glasses! “The glow was just too bright,” he writes. He continues: “The combination of the oppressive fluorescent lighting in the room and the grotesque gleam of artificial skin dye were just too much for my poor old eyes to bear.” When asked if any of his students brought their final papers to class, he morosely replied, “I didn’t see any.” Truly, truly frightening.

That’s all for now, folks. As always, stay classy.

When Students Play the "Depression" Card.

Why, why, why did you have to play the depression card? You and I both know that you're lazy, overly talkative, and a bullshit artist. The reason you didn't turn any work in this term is because you didn't feel like doing the work. Saying 'Mmmm, yes, I know' during class doesn't show your understanding of the material; writing a damn essay or contributing something original to discussion would.

Now you've told me you're depressed. Well guess what, toots. Everyone I know at this university is depressed. But because you're a darling little flower, I have to spend hours upon hours talking to your advisors, the counseling service, and probably your parents to 'get you the help you need.' Because while I'm 98% sure your excuse is a load of crap, I can't risk the 2% chance it isn't.

Look, I'll teach you, I'll care about how well you do, I'll give you extra help, I'll even extend deadlines. But please don't make me the secondary character in your little psychodrama.

The Big Thirsty: What Kind of Students Are the Kids of Academics?

Q: I don't care who answers this question, but I'd like to know if professors' kids are just as snowflake-y and horrible as regular students? Do they pull the same shit?

A: Reply here!

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

RYS Links! So Hot We Recommend You Take a Nibble First.


One of Our Chief Correspondents Sets the Sarcasm on Stun.

Wait a minute, what’s that you said? You don’t think that you deserve a D on your paper? Oh my god. This sounds serious. In all my time teaching, I have never had a student complain about a low grade before. You’d better tell me exactly where I went wrong grading this, so I don’t make the same mistake again!

What? You put a lot of “time and effort” into this? I had no idea! That changes everything! I mean, I know you wouldn’t be lying to me just to get a better grade. Not only that, but I’m pretty sure that I wrote on the syllabus that I would be grading on effort, since grading on intangible ideals is always a good idea. No, it’s not on the syllabus? Looks like I screwed that thing up too! How stupid of me!

Oh, and you didn’t think the page length was “really strict or anything”? You “saw it more as a guideline” than a rule? I see!! I don’t know why I let the fact that half the paper is missing get in my way! I’m an idiot!

What’s that now? You thought that the fact that you told me that you had “relationship issues” over Thanksgiving break would make me “go a little easier” on your paper? OMG! I totally didn’t adjust your grade for your relationship issues! I just assumed that your personal business had no bearing on your work for this class. When will I learn!!

Man, the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you have some kind of scholarship riding on your grade in this class…WHAT? You DO??? Holy shit! I cannot believe I ignored this! To think, you almost had to drop out of school because of me.

Another Semester Teaches Us How to Further Idiot-Proof Our Syllabi.

Attention Snowflakes:
  1. You are not as fascinating and intelligent as your mother tells you. Academic papers are not based on opinion. I don’t care what you think about behavioral analysis or psychological theories, what I care about are your ability to understand what those wiser and more experienced than yourself think. This is why I do not want to see the words “I think” or “I believe” leaving your keyboard. You can barely dress yourself and stay awake in class, much less have a coherent thought.

  2. An online class is just that, a class that happens to be online. Tests are still tests. No you cannot discuss the questions in the forums; no you cannot email me and ask me if the answer you want to choose is right. It is to test your knowledge, not mine. I already know the answer; this is why I am teaching the class.

  3. You cannot turn in assignments repeatedly after making revisions until you get the score you want. If I am feeling giving I will allow you to make some changes if I think you will learn something from this interaction. Otherwise you get the grade for the work you put in. This is why you don’t wait until 10 minutes before it is due to finish the assignment.

  4. No late assignments means just that, NO LATE ASSIGNMENTS. I don’t care that your house flooded after the kitchen started on fire when you received a phone call that your second cousin removed was admitted to the hospital and you spent the whole week there, which is why you weren’t at home to put out the fire that killed your dog. Yes I know that you are SO concerned about your grade and that you have NEVER done this before and it will simply ruin your GPA. No I don’t believe you. As the syllabus says, no late assignments. Deal with it.

  5. Plagiarism is plagiarism. Threatening to tell my boss doesn’t make you any less academically dishonest, it just makes you a blackmailing asshole. Do you think I am going to give a break to a blackmailing asshole? Why don’t you take the time you are putting into an attempt to bully me into not reporting you and actually research your paper and write it correctly. You will get a lot more out of the experience.

We Never Know Why It Happens.

Earnest question for that guy down front, house left: What happened?

At the beginning it was great to have you in class. You were kind of a pain, skating by my office at 20-to-class saying you couldn’t print out the readings, was there some way you could get them now? You wanted to be prepared for class, and I focused on that while I ran you an extra copy. After all, your participation was frequent, insightful, and added positively to class discussion. You came with a heavy dose of snark, it is true, but I was more than up to that.

Then there was this odd shift. You started hijacking discussion in weird, unhelpful directions that really were all about you. Your snarkiness got meaner and less playful. I had to work to keep you for slowing everything down.

It might have been that reflexive turn in week 5. Maybe it was a cognitive leap you were weren’t intellectually prepared to make, and your frustration expressed itself as sullenness. On the last class you actually held a newspaper open in front of you until I peered over it.

There was a spot of poor attendance in there. Did something genuinely bad happen during term? I can’t ask, of course, and in a few days I’ll realize that I really don’t want to know. Or did *I* lose you along the way somewhere? If I did, I wish I knew how.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

POW! Nothing Baffles The Student Mind Quite Like: "Everything's On the Final!" [Post of the Week.]

Dear students,

I guess I wasn't sufficiently clear in class when I told you, about ten times over three weeks, that EVERYTHING is on the final exam. Everything. All lectures and all assigned readings.

To be fair, I'm guessing that the dozens of you writing me emails to ask the same question had trouble dressing yourselves and heading out to find the classroom where I repeatedly let you know, in simple terms, that everything is on the final exam.

But what in the hell are you hoping to hear from me?! That those textbooks I had you buy and read aren't really important, so don't worry about being asked about them? That my lectures are really just an exercise in blowing smoke up your asses, so ignore everything I said? Or that you should dedicate 45% of your time to the readings, and the balance to the lectures (as though I do the math on this sort of thing, and as though you are sufficiently organized and intelligent to allocate your "copious" study time accordingly?!).

And where, out of curiosity, did you all suddenly obtain a vocabulary that includes words like "cumulative" and "comprehensive"? I read your essays. Half of you misspelled my name. Some of you misspelled your own. The concept of a paragraph seems to have escaped you. Many, many of you would be challenged by the prospect of writing a "Dick and Jane" book that wasn't in the form of a bastardized text message (C Dk run, C Jn ROFL...). I hope you appreciated the brevity of "F," BTW (LOL). Why is it that you only pay attention to complex ideas when it involves minimizing your work?

Here's the deal. Know the shit I taught you. Read the material. Stop trying to second guess what's on the fucking examination and apply your pea-sized brains to learning what you ignored all term. I swear I could give you all the questions in advance, and that a third of you would find a way to fail anyway.

Stop being so strategic about your "education" - those of you who do so excessively are among the stupidest of your cohort anyway. The good and intelligent students have been working hard all term to understand the ideas and content, and will work equally hard to walk into the final exam with a decent knowledge of the material. They don't care about "what's on the exam," because they are too busy making sure they understand everything we've read and discussed. And I don't actually need to ask questions from every section of the course to sort out the students who take this approach from those who do not. Deal with it.

I can't think of much worthwhile in life that comes from trying to find loopholes in the fine print or through focusing on ways to do the least amount of work possible. So, dear students, just study your texts and lecture notes (I understand this will be a problem if you have none, LMFAO...). Or don't. It doesn't much matter to me. And leave me the fuck alone if the only contact I'll have with you all term is to find out what is, or is not on the final exam. Everything is.

Sincerely,
Your professor.


P.S.: I guess I could tell you that the final in no way involves Chapter 22, or that funny anecdote I used to illustrate an idea in week 3. But honestly, I know it wouldn't help you one fucking bit.

My Shredder. My Friend.

We all receive excellent open-ended comments from students on evaluations that help us with our teaching. Here are a few of mine:


  • “talks to only one side of the room”
  • “penalized me for a late paper….such a bastard”
  • “the book sucks, the teaqchehr sucks, such a waste of time”
  • “the tests are to hard”
  • “the classroom is too warm…not enough a/c”
  • “the classroom is too cold…not enough heat”
  • “will not discuss problems with us during the 10 minute class break”[professor comment here: during a 3 hr class, I do have to go to the bathroom sometime!!]
  • “I already know this material but the university makes me take this course”
  • “the prof missed one class this semester and I really needed a lecture that day”

Yes, folks, these are the kind of helpful comments from students to improve your teaching that do end up on the dean’s desk. I even had one dean state on my report that I should utilize some of my student’s comments. And this particular evaluation contained some of the silliest and asinine comments to date! Thank God, I do not work in that pitiful department anymore! But, the dean never hears those students who come up to me, face-to-face, to say:


  • “thanks for your patience”
  • “that was a tough test, but a fair test”
  • “you are always so good to us”
  • “ I have a friend who wants to take this course from you. What sections will you be teaching next semester?”

I always have the shredder plugged in upon receiving my evaluations. They make wonderful litter for pets.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Awful Alliteration Angers April from Appleton.

Jesus, I wish you'd quit being so foolish here, especially with titles.

I guess I can't blame you too much for the idiotic posts, though you do pick them! But the titles of recent pieces make me so angry. The painfully juvenile alliteration you use makes a mockery of some very serious subjects.

This blog is going to fail if you continue to make fun of a profession you claim to think matters.


Final Thoughts on Big Thirsty: Did Grad School Leave You Feeling Defeated?

Defeated by graduate school? Nope. Humbled, maybe, but not defeated.

Heck, grad school was the portal for the best gig in the world, bar none. I was surrounded by the smartest people I'd ever met and I read more and learned more in that short amount of time than I ever had or have since. It was amazing.

When I think back on grad school, I always remember a piece of advice that my mentor gave me. He would say "You won't learn anything more from us in 5 or 6 years than you will in 4. You're here to get the tools that you need to be an academic. Get them and get out. Don't just hang around, hoping for more. All you need are the basics - the rest you'll learn as you go."

And, he was right. It was scary at first, but I learned how to do research and how to teach from him and from my other professors. I felt as green as grass my first semester as an assistant professor, and I'm sure that I made a lot of mistakes.

But I learned what worked and what didn't and how to do things better. And now, all of a sudden, it's my 15th year of teaching and I still look forward to going to work every day.

More Big Thirsty: Ph.D. As a Union Card.

The doctoral process was one of the most dehumanizing experiences of my academic career.

My "research assistantship"consisted of answering department phones during the secretary's lunch hour for two of my three years. The candidacy process was nothing short of academic hazing. My department chairperson selected a member of my exam committee who was in a field I had not studied since my freshman year of undergrad, and that person proceeded to make my exams a true hell week. After the other committee members unanimously out voted her on my passing the exams, I asked the chairperson why she had put this person on my committee. Her reply was "Well, you know, we can do anything we want to you, and there's nothing you can do about it."

For my dissertation, I selected a lead advisor who was known as one of the best teachers on campus. He was wonderful, and I thought I was finally going to salvage something from the process. Unfortunately, he became gravely ill just after I finished the research and was demoted to committee member status. My department chairperson replaced him during the writing stage with someone in a related field whom I did not know. He provided no guidance whatsoever. At my graduation, the chairperson had to tell him who I was because we had never met. (I attempted to schedule meetings with him throughout the process; he never responded to my requests.)

Maybe I was naive or just plain stupid, but I went into the doctoral program thinking it would be the ultimate academic experience. I was fortunate to have had excellent professors and strong programs in my undergrad and master's studies. I imagined that the Ph.D. would be a sort of apprenticeship into the professoriate. I thought I would have a mentor or at least a graduate assistantship that would be an actual academic experience. I am jealous of my friends and colleagues who did get the kind of experience I dreamed of having. In the end, my doctoral degree became the equivalent of a union card. It enabled me to get a good job doing something I love. For that part, I am forever grateful, but I'm not sure that what I learned ultimately made me a better professor.

Mary from Minneapolis Has Been Defeated. And She's Not Alone.

Where I go to graduate school, the senior faculty members have an abysmal publishing record, yet advise the graduate students to ‘publish or perish.’ They take a year’s worth of sabbaticals, while graduate students teach three first year composition classes and attempt to write a dissertation in their ‘spare time.’ My alcoholic dissertation advisor lives in another state, and I've been left without any sort of faculty mentorship.

The reality is this: perhaps at other Universities, graduate students are brought in to actually be trained as scholars. However, my people (the defeated, the disillusioned) know that we are cheap labor, period, doing the jobs no one else wants to do. I’d be far less defeated if I felt I received an actual education: just one-quarter of what I give to my students.

At my University, the course selection is narrow, the faculty is unavailable to confer and rarely leave comments on our exams and projects, and professional development is unheard of. This is because we’re not being trained as scholars, and we’re defeated because we know this. We signed on to receive an education, and instead we received 60 first year students. Without any training, we waltz into classrooms and attempt to teach these oftentimes difficult freshmen, for a pay rate of less than five dollars an hour (but you’ve heard this story before; I won’t go on).

In our free time, we field criticism from the faculty, such as ‘you’re teaching too much content’ and ‘you’re not getting through the program fast enough.’ Graduate school, at least in my experience, is not about the quality of one’s research: it’s about efficiency. I was even advised, in one of those rare moments in which I received something that vaguely approximated mentorship, that I should switch my dissertation to multicultural studies because it’s 'hot right now.'

We are defeated because we came in the door, with the love of our discipline fully intact. We are then told to ‘give up the individuality thing and package yourself, because it’s a corporate world, baby.’ It’s the corporate world and we graduate students are the bottom feeders. In my discipline, there are very few jobs available and in all likelihood, I will be working at Sears next year. I’m defeated, because I’m a devoted, good teacher. I’m defeated because I see faculty members with twenty-times my income spend a year on sabbatical, while I write countless letters of recommendation on behalf of my students. I ask one student, “why aren’t you asking an actual PhD for this recommendation to law school,” to which he responds: “I don’t know them, they don’t know my name, they’re never around.”

These same faculty members shoot off emails, telling the graduate students to ‘hurry up and get out,' because we’re an abstraction, and there’s a whole line of new students ready and eager to replace us.

We leave graduate school defeated because we’ve been force fed the corporate model of higher education. We leave graduate school defeated because we realize there’s no such thing as professional integrity. Our faculty members bicker and wage war on other faculty members, and in term, all the graduate students with Stockholm Syndrome start cutting each other’s throats to incur the favor of distant, unappreciative faculty members.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Feeling Thirsty?

Q: Why is it that no matter what, you leave graduate school defeated? You leave with your degree in hand, yet a little emptier for it. You have accomplished what you set out to do, but inside you fear that there is something missing. It is as though you were misled, and you don't feel like the degree you now hold makes up for the suffering you endured.


A: It's because when you're in college, the professors all look so glamorous--you think it's all tweed jackets, lab coats and wine-and-cheese mixers with Nobel laureates.

But then, just like on that Top Model show, you find out that really professoring is hard work. Paper cuts, sucking up to the dean, shortened holiday schedule at the library, even having a Thursday night class that keeps you from going to the Beaujolais Nouveau tasting--it's just not all the beauty and glamour you thought it would be.

Calling Foul on Ralph From Rutabaga Ranch. A Tentative Toe-in-the-Water Because the Junior/Senior Divide Is Still Lighting Up the Mailbox.

I think the folks at RYS are well-intentioned. They are obviously good-humored, and that's a big part of being good colleagues, even in this virtual world.

But I must call "foul" on their posting of Rutabaga Ralph. He sounds like a dear man - full of himself, perhaps - dear enough to be an ideal senior faculty / mentor. His post made me want someone like him next door to me in Faculty Hall, but in my experience - and the experience of everyone else I know - Ralph doesn't exist.

Ralph says that "[he] would sit in junior faculty offices and marvel at the tremendous new insight they brought to [his] tired old field." That doesn't sound like any junior/senior exchange I've ever heard of.

Most of the post focuses on his advice about not struggling so hard for the top of the ladder. I've heard this before. It's said by everyone who's already there. Is the view so good you don't want company? Because Ralph got there and was dissatisfied doesn't mean I will be, too.

I can appreciate Ralph's advice in an abstract way, but nobody who already has tenure can really know what an untenured faculty member has to deal with in the modern academy. The challenges we face are more difficult and more taxing than anything the older generation of faculty had to endure, and this divide will never be solved until senior faculty realize that.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Nancy Nutjob from Nashville. Where Everyone At the Compound Begins to Research Restraining Orders.

I just got my calendar in the mail and I can't believe how wonderful it is. You guys - you ARE all guys, aren't you (very macho-centric page design) - are the greatest.

I read your page every day without fail, and find your sense of humor to be the same as mine. If you were here with me in Tennessee, I'd give you a big smooch...you know about Southern lovin', don't you?

I have a hundred great stories to send you about my crazy students. They love me. They call me Momma all the time, and I think it's fine. I want them to succeed just as if they were my own children. I'm unmarried, but happy, and I have 2 fine King Cavalier Spaniels named Dexter and Dickie who are my pride and joy.

I'm enclosing some photos for you, one of the dogs, and then some shots from my birthday party last month. We blew it out at a local club and you can see me dancing on the bar at the end of the night, with a mouth full of mashed potatoes, and me winking at the camera - at YOU boys.

I really respect what you do on this page. It's so hard to keep your nerve up in today's classroom. I started teaching in the late 80s, and it seemed easier then. Now, students want to get up in your grill! But Momma shows them. I don't have many complaints. In fact most of the faculty here come around to my office for advice. I'm the matriarch everywhere I go!!!

Anyway, you don't have to post this, I just wanted you to know that I love you guys, and dream of visiting the compound next year during my sabbatical. Is that picture on the cover of the calendar a real picture? It looks the desert, Nevada or Arizona. I love it out there. Tennessee is beautiful, but sometimes Momma just wants to gaze up at the big sky.

So, watch the horizon for me, fellas! MOMMA LOVES YOU!

It's Only One Student Apology, But We're Grateful For It. We Will Alert You When We Get Another. For Now, We Will Bathe In This One.

Please know that there are students out here who agree with you, who hate the lazy, grade-grubbing, plagiarizing, Daddy-dialing little bastards who populate our classes.

We want to learn. We want to be good students. We want to be respected as intellectuals. Heck, we want to do good work and want you to like us. When all of those things happen your job is a little less hellish and our grade just might be shinier. And, in the process, we sometimes inadvertently get an education!

I apologize for the kids who plagiarize and then act like they don't know what that means. Isn't that an eight-grade vocabulary word? I apologize for the guy in the front row who asks pompous tangential questions in a painfully loud voice just to prove How Smart He Is to his peers. I apologize for the Little Grade Grubbers who ask why they got a 58 instead of a 90 on their exam, or the PreMed Grade Grubbers who gulp and sob over a 98. I especially apologize for the Beastly Grade Grubbers who call in Mommy, Daddy, the Dean, Daddy the Dean, or all of the above, in an attempt to prove to you, by a sheer display of Other Grown-Ups, that you're being So Unfair.

I can't really apologize for the kids who forget their pencils, their paper, or their pants, or who answer their cell phones during class, as this level of rudeness really is beyond my comprehension. I simply wish for your sakes that they disappear.

I apologize for department chairs who base your worth on the evaluations of bitter D students who just wish you'd inflate their grades a little more because "really, who does it hurt?" I apologize for the favoritism shown to professors who can't teach for crap but hand out A's (and evaluation-day candy) at the drop of a hat. I apologize for any persons in power who treat a university like a business and think that "the customer is always right" when in fact "the customer" is a spoiled dumbass who thinks that his tuition is seriously paying your salary.

But hey, all this apologizing isn't just because we, the ass-kissing students, want to empathize with you, our beloved professors. We're the self-centered know-it-all spawn of the baby boomers, after all - we apologize because the awful students are our problem too. When Johnny Moneybags the Third needs a two-week extension on his paper draft because his business-major self has had a stressful Greek Week at the frat, it hurts us all. Their 20-bullshit-excuses-per-week dilute the one situation per year that some of us really do need a break on. My idea throughout undergrad was to never EVER ask for an extension unless it was a ridiculous level of emergency, precisely because I figured that when I finally needed help, the professor would know it wasn't "just another excuse."

I eventually realized that most of my professors were not ogres with hearts of stone; they'd look at my past record and help me out if it seemed reasonable. And if they didn't, incredibly, the sun still managed to rise the next day.

Finally, I personally apologize for any time when I might have BEEN that student - emailing you about something I could have answered by looking at the syllabus, writing a grumpy evaluation because I wished I had done better in the class, or maybe asking an annoying question just because I wanted to prove to you that I was Listening, Attentive, and Smart. I hope you took off and bitched about me as you rightfully should have, and I hope that I have learned from my mistakes!

Cuteness as an Educational Strategy.

On the first day of psychology lab, I went in and introduced myself and the lab proctors to each lab section. I carefully went over the syllabus. I truly emphasized the "No Cheating" clause, as last term I had a number (20%) of lab students who copied reports. I told the students I would not abide by any form of academic dishonesty, whether it be plagiarism or copying. I told them that they would fail any report that was copied. I told them if they didn't believe that I would give a zero, they should ask people who took the lab last term, as we all had a very nice discussion about the importance of academic honesty.

Well, lab reports came in this week. A set of twins who believes that they are exempt from all rules and regulations on the basis of cuteness handed in similar reports, but not so similar that it was obvious that they were copied. What astounded me was that each had very carefully reworded (to avoid the appearance of copying) a lab report from last term! They obviously did not realize that the experiment upon which the full lab report is based changes from term to term! I guess this is my own fault for telling them to "ask the people who took the lab last term!"

About RYS:

Rate Your Students (RYS) is an academic blog moderated by a rotating group of college professors. To submit work for possible inclusion on the RYS blog, please submit text to our main mailing address.

Generally, stand alone pieces that are "lively" and focused on the terrifying life of a college proffie have the highest chance of making the page. Responses to earlier posts work well only when they come in within 24 hours of the original post. Otherwise the issue has often cooled.

There will usually be 2 site-wide questions each week, the so called "early thirsty" on Tuesday and the "big thirsty" on - well, Thursday. Generally, short and savage replies work best as we normally bundle a variety of responses in bullet format.

Due to the amount of mail we receive, it is impossible to reply to writers, even those whose work we use. This is a failing we would change if we could. Generally, if your post doesn't appear within the first week of you sending it, we've passed on it.

We also are happy to consider links and videos you think our readers might be interested in. We post links on an irregular schedule, but are currently posting 4-5 videos a week given the number of suggested pieces that come in.

We no longer entertain requests for press of any kind. The names of current and past moderators are not available. If you don't like the VidShizzles, please don't watch them. If you don't like the site, please don't read it. If you think we're clueless morons who've ruined the profession, then join the fucking club.