Friday, September 26, 2008

Abby the Adjunct Meets An Administrator!

I was informed by one of the tenured higher-ups here the other day that my students were lost.

"No kidding," I laughed along. A little good-natured student ribbing. All in good fun.

He did not laugh.

"No, really. They're lost. They keep looking for you, and bothering dear little old Secretary Sally in the office up here. Why don't they know where your office is?"

"Uh, I don't have an office," I said.

"Well, whatever. Why are they looking for you? Didn't you tell them where you would be?"

"Yes. I told them repeatedly. I told them I would be in the public lounge downstairs. You know, by the vending machines? Of course, I couldn't specify a specific chair or anything--not having one and all..."

"Well, do your students have your email?"

"Of course."

"Do they have your cell number?"

"Uh, no."

"Why not?"

"That's my private phone line. I don't give it out."

"You need to give them your cell number so they don't bother anyone else."

Listen, Asshole. I don't even give my cell number to most of my friends. I'm not about to give these 18-year-old brats more information about how to contact me. Maybe if your hoity-toity little college here could toss a few coins at its adjuncts for some basic teaching necessities--say, I don't know, a room, a desk, a phone line, A SALARY--my students wouldn't be wandering around bothering Grandma over there in administration (like she had something more pressing to do?).

But you know what? They probably would. Because despite the astronomical cost of this college, your admissions standards are incredibly low. And your students are--well, they're idiots. So I could draw them a fucking map, put on a play (with hand puppets!), and tattoo my location on their hands, and they would still wander dazedly in and out of rooms looking for someone with a clue. Not my fault. And precisely why they're not getting my number. I don't need calls at 2 AM asking me if I could please explain what I meant by "Read pages 18-72."

So until you get a clue and realize that adjuncts are not going to take the few, sacred moments left in their personal life and allow you to walk all over them for your measly $2500 a class, I guess you and Granny over there are just going to have to deal with a few wandering students.

They'll match the wandering instructors, and you seem to be ignoring them without a problem.