Josie on the Job Market and A Cast of Characters We All Immediately Recognize from Our Own College.

I should have suspected something might be up from the fact that I was invited immediately for an in-person interview several states away without even the slightest phone conversation, which had not been the norm thus far in my 6 month long job search. There was ALWAYS a phone interview before the invitation (boy could I relate to Clay from Cleveland's complaints about phone interviews!)

Of course I accepted the offer of an actual in-person interview. The position was actually a level higher than what I would have expected for a new grad with very little experience but still that didn't raise my eyebrows. I promptly made my flight arrangements and did the requisite research on the department, university, etc. I worked on my presentation and finally the day came when I flew into the small airport an hour from the small university town somewhere in the Midwest.

Two colleagues from the department picked me up at the airport (I was only expecting one of them) and they seemed overly excited to be taking me to dinner at a local chain restaurant before heading off on the hour drive to the university. Again, it occurred to me that maybe this excitement over a chain restaurant might not be a good sign. But what was I to do by this time? And they were nice enough.

So the cast of characters I encountered began there.

The first, I couldn't decide if he was gay or not, but I quickly realized he seemed the most like me--somewhat alternative and liberal, and if I was offered the job, we'd be friends. The second I was sure was gay (don't ask why, it would be too obvious then who I'm talking about if he ever read this), but married and in denial. Oh well. Still two nice men.

I was dropped off at my hotel, where I barely slept, going over my presentation and notes for the next day most of the evening.

The morning began with committee interview after interview. Then the assistant dean and the dean. Then a tour of the facility by a very fake-smiling yellow-dyed brush-cut with a million earrings.

I continued to be surrounded all day by the following:

• the immaculate woman in the perfect suit who smiled perfectly at all times


• the ancient/experienced woman with long gray hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in 20 years


• the young, sneering, and silent woman dressed in all black who refused to make eye contact with me at all


• the lumberjack (yes, he was wearing flannel and he was about 6 foot 8, complete with full bushy beard)


• the disheveled woman in the moon boots (though there was never any snow the entire time I was there)


• the old man who was retiring (and looked as though as soon as he was out of that interview he would be officially retired--in sprinting position waiting to run out the door)


• the nondescript others who now have faded into oblivion

The best part of the day, I must say, was my presentation. I was asked for my "powerpoint" to which I replied that I don't use PPT, but do my presentations from the web.

OH.

Lots of bored looks, talking, sneering--there were some polite attendees, to be fair. And the final insulting question from the 20 year gray haired woman, to whom I replied the only thing I could "You're right," instead of getting defensive and getting into a battle over my choices for the presentation.

No wait. The best part was actually when they took me to lunch after my presentation. NO ONE SPOKE. I mean they did NOT talk to each other. At all.

I was sure I must have bombed my presentation horribly and they were all aghast at having to even bother continuing to go on with me one more minute. Of course, later on, I asked the man who would have been my best (and only friend), some oblique question that lead him to say "Oh, you did fine. Any of us would have done the same thing."

By then, I knew SOMEthing was wrong. And how would I fit in here? They kept calling me the girl from New York. As if I was from NYC (not). Okay. I was from the BIG CITY apparently.

I did not get the job. Saved by the fact, I think, that I couldn't hide that I'd take the job and run as soon as I had enough experience to go someplace else. But the story of all those different characters is fun to tell, and I was flattered to be asked for an interview for a position I really wasn't ready for at the time.

I'm sure they were all nice people. Really. But then why have I seen 3 ads for positions there, since I interviewed? For the same position I interviewed for, besides.

If I Have to Train Myself and My Students On How to Deal with an Earthquake, an 'Active' Shooter, and Letter Bombs, I Won't Be Able To Teach Biology!

A reader from Southern Illinois University sent us this note and the accompanying Emergency Response Guide. The faculty member writes: "I have received no emergency preparedness training. I do not know CPR or the Heimlich maneuver and I do not have a cell phone. I do not acknowledge the right of the administration to place any item on my syllabus and I do not appreciate their attempt to shift their legal liability on to me with this cover their ass policy."

--

Dear Faculty,

As you prepare for the start of classes next week, I want to remind you that according to University policy you must discuss emergency preparedness issues with each of your classes. To make this easier, I have pasted the emergency procedure clause that must be included in its entirety in your syllabus. In addition, I have attached a pdf of the Emergency Response Guide. Please present the first page of this guide as a slide on the first day of class. Thank you for your cooperation in this important matter.

We are committed to providing a safe and healthy environment for study and work. Because some health and safety circumstances are beyond our control, we ask that you become familiar with the SIUC Emergency Response Plan and Building Emergency Response Team (BERT) program. Emergency response information is available on posters in buildings on campus, available on BERT's website at www.bert.siu.edu, Department of Safety's website www.dps.siu.edu (disaster drop down) and in Emergency Response Guideline pamphlet.

Know how to respond to each type of emergency. Instructors will provide guidance and direction to students in the classroom in the event of an emergency affecting your location. It is important that you follow these instructions and stay with your instructor during an evacuation or sheltering emergency. The Building Emergency Response Team will provide assistance to your instructor in evacuating the building or sheltering within the facility.

samples from the guide.

Active Shooter:

• Go to the nearest room or office.
• Close and lock the door. If there is not a lock on the door, try to quickly barricade the door or block the door with something.
• Cover the door windows.
• Keep quiet, silence cell phones, and act as if no one is in the room.
• DO NOT answer the door

Suspicious Letter or Package

• Call 911.
• DO NOT handle the package.
• Leave the room and close the door.
• Wash hands.
• Identify & isolate all who came in contact.
• DO NOT go to emergency room.

RYS JobFinder. The Feature That Won't Die.

Naval War College

Research Professor

The Strategic Research Department of the Naval War College is seeking to fill one research professorship at the assistant or associate level with a specialist in national security affairs. Applicants for the position can be national security generalists but should possess a functional expertise in a specific field such as military strategy, terrorism, proliferation, insurgency, or force planning. We are especially interested in regional expertise in the Greater Middle East, Europe, Latin America or Africa.

Essential qualifications include an advanced degree preferably a Ph.D. in national security affairs, international relations, the decision sciences, or a related social science field; expertise in policy analysis with emphasis on U.S. national security; the ability to produce high quality results under tight deadlines; an ability for identifying the high-leverage issues embedded in complex problems, familiarity with science and technology, ability to work effectively with senior leaders in the military, academia, and the private sector; a commitment to collaboration and teamwork; and outstanding communications skills.

Other desirable qualifications include experience as a practitioner working with Navy, the other military services, Department of Defense (DoD), or other agencies involved in national security, knowledge of strategic/operational analysis and planning, and experience teaching. Candidates must be willing to teach or co-teach courses at the graduate level as required. The Strategic Research Department is located with the Center for Naval Warfare Studies, the research arm of the Naval War College.

Candidates should submit a curriculum vitae or professional resume; three letters of recommendation; and a short writing sample to Dean, Center for Naval Warfare Studies (Attention: SRD Department Search Committee), Naval War College, 686 Cushing Road, Newport, Rhode Island 02841-1207 postmarked no later than 15 September 2008. Candidates claiming veterans preference must state in writing they are claiming veterans preference. The Naval War College is an Equal Opportunity Employer.

Some Saturday Hot Links: Special Prezzie Edition.

• Prez in Iowa throws kegger, gets fired and $400k. From the Des Moines Register.


• 100 college prezes suggest lowering drinking age. From Wall Street Journal.


• One prez opens the college to students who wouldn't be there without her. From the Hartford Courant.


• UVA Prez immune from the position's revolving door. From the Hook.com.


• Even in a college drill the prez gets shuttled to a basement. From the South County News.


• Prezzie fisticuffs charge dismissed. From KXnet.com.


• Prez pulled cross off William and Mary chapel. He's gone. No word on the cross. From The Flat Hat.com.

UVA 92 Grad Tapped for VP Pick.

Tina Fey, a 1992 graduate of the University of Virginia, was a surprise pick as John McCain's running mate for the 2008 presidential election.

Fey, who is a part-time writer and performer, was originally an English major in Charlottesville, but she learned how poorly English profs get paid, and switched to drama. Poor kid.

Anyway, we're decidedly apolitical at the compound - after the nasty gunfight we had out by the propane tanks last year - but we thought we'd dip a toe into the election and see what you thought.

"Contract My Ass"? Uh, No Thank You. Silly Bus Replies.

Ooooh, the semester must be underway for lots of you. The virtual mail bag was so full this morning. We could only use a few bits of the scores of notes that came in concerning this week's Big Thirsty on the use and size of the Silly Bus, but we trust we've given you a sense of what folks are saying. Please enjoy the flava. Oh, and thanks to all the folks who wrote to say they loved the new Big Thirsty graphic from yesteday. Today's sucks and we know it:

• It won't take long for any new teacher today to realize that it's invaluable to have a long, detailed syllabus that reads like a legal contract. This will quickly be made obvious by the students who whine: "Turn off my cell phone? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!" "No food is allowed in exams? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!" "No web surfing in class? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!" "Late homework isn't accepted? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!" "Don't bring children under 16 who aren't registered in the course to class? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!" or my favorite (so far): "Don't fill out the Scantron form on the back side? But it's NOT IN THE SYLLABUS!"



• My view of the syllabus is that it's essentially a mechanism for covering your ass: if you spell out exactly what you expect from the student (in under 14 pages!!!!) then when they come crying to you with a low grade and charges that you were unclear in your expectations, you can point to the syllabus and smile.



• I REFUSE to make my syllabi "complete and official contracts." They're typically 4 or 5 pages long: Course name, my name, contact info, office location, office hours, description of the course and learning objectives, what they will do in the course that earns points, descriptions of the written assignments, how the point totals translate into letter grades, three short bullet points on classroom behavior (this is where people's syllabi typically get bloated), a bit on where the Writing Assistance Center, some boilerplate about the office for students with disabilities, and a course outline and schedule (typically 2 pages). Easy-peasy. I will not give in to this Bloated Contractual Syllabus bullshit.



• Contract my ass--trying to spell out everything just gives the little bitches the idea to look for loopholes. We are scholars, after all--our judgement ought to count for something. Make the syllabus just long enough to get the dean (or whoever) off your back, and to hell with the rest of it.



• The appropriate length of syllabus is probably somewhere between Average April's 14 pages and Joshing Jerry's two. It will also depend on how many snowflakes you don't want to deal with on an individual basis. AA has obviously been accumulating stuff in her syllabus for her entire career; she probably has piles of newspapers in her house dating back to her first middle-school current-events paper. On the other hand, JJ is simply a fool. You have to set out *some* written requirements; even if they don't read the thing, you will be able to point to what you passed out and say, "I told you so."
  


• Gen Y has been raised on the mantra that if they're not EXPLICITLY TOLD not to do something, it's somehow okay to do it, in spite of whatever common sense might say otherwise. They try to play the loophole, I smack them down, they try to appeal it to the dean/chair/mommy and daddy, I usually win, I then update the next semester's syllabus and close the loophole to prevent future knuckledraggers from playing it. Last academic year, in one of my composition sections, I gave a section a take home final exam. The next day, I got a call from the campus writing center. One of my students was in there, insisting that they help him write his final exam--part of which covered an assessment of essay organization. "Would you allow a student taking a test in there to bring a tutor to assist him or her?" I asked. The administrator running the center acknowledged the logic and sent the student off (probably to have a friend write it for him), but the student's defense was "you didn't TELL me I couldn't!" Welcome to Gen Y. So passive, so spoonfed, so overly-enabled, so entitled, so fucking stupid at times, that the syllabus (because they all think that going to the dean or chair is going to automatically trump the teacher) has to have every arcane, asinine, common sense point spelled out in no uncertain terms and Sesame Street-esque language because they've been fed this Kool Aid from their parents. Since most Gen Y'ers are expert grade lawyers walking out of high school (do you think most of then EARNED the grades they got. Chances are, that for every student there's a high school teacher somewhere who was bullied, badgered, and outright harassed to change, manipulate, or elevate a grade to inflate the kid's GPA that got him/her into college in the first place), it's all but inevitable that they quickly take a crash course in Snowflake Contract Law once they're in college, and they start haggling points and policies on a syllabus as a way of justifying their own bad behavior.
  


• My syllabi average 6-8 pages each. The purpose, as I see it, is not to give the students something to read, but to outline my classroom policies and the schedule for the course. I lay out what will and won't be permitted, and the penalties for violation of these expectations. I lay out the basis of their grade for the course and means by which they may seek remedy if they have a problem. I give them the schedule (with deadlines, the content for each week, and important dates), and once I've done that, I stick to it. Problems? Objections? It's all there in the syllabus. It is not my fault if you didn't read it. Those are, and have always been, the rules. I give them hard copies and make it available electronically. You want an exception? According to the syllabus, that isn't possible. I've had very few problems with this approach.
  


• The extensive and detail-oriented syllabus is my friend. Joshing Jerry is right - they won't read it. However, Average April is also correct, and more correct where it matters; the syllabus is a contract. The extensive syllabus serves two purposes: it makes the instructor have thought out ahead of time the consequences to all the BS that the students will pull, so they are sensible (and fair, and standard), and it also covers the ass of the instructor when the inevitable entitled, arrogant, disrespectful, and generally deceptive asshole tries to pull a fast one. (Although, these students are usually exceptionally stupid, so maybe it should be called a slow one.) Does this sound jaded and cynical? Well, I've been teaching long enough now, and reading RYS long enough to understand that this is how the academy works. Once you find the best way to cover your ass, then you can get back to the business of being starry-eyed and idealistic about how you're going to make a difference in all your students' lives.

RYS JobFinder. Like Every New Feature, Hated Instantly and Hotly.

You can't believe the shitstorm from yesterday concerning our listing of the Dartmouth job ad for the Outdoor Program director. And by shitstorm we mean, like, 5 emails.

One reader wrote: "I bet the people who run Outdoor Programs are well-adjusted, competent employees who enjoy their work and genuinely like young people. Unlike Professor Asshole McTweedy whose ironic detachment from everything genuine would never allow him to enjoy an outdoor activity for its own sake. Why don't you malcontents stick to bitching about your own miserable lives and quit mocking decency?"

Mocking decency? Holy shit! We never even thought of that. But we're going to get right on it. Listen, we're a bunch of cranks, we understand this. But don't you read the damn site? WE LIVE ON A FUCKING COMPOUND? We are surrounded by acres of land and wildlife. Two of us have bedrooms with holes in the ceiling. When the daily thunderstorm rolls across the desert, we take those 66 drops or rain right on the noggin. We're baldy sunburned, and often have to walk the 4 miles to the highway if we want to catch our car pool to East Clovis State University and Penitentiary.

And, Professor Asshole McTweedy? Well, that's a great made up name, and we're sure to use as our own invention next week, but let it be said we were not making fun of any Outdoor Program people. Okay, we do think the "experience living in cabins" thing is kind of funny. And we did wonder if you needed an MFA in S'mores-making to qualify. But we mostly listed it because it was a little interesting. It's not your usual English, Psych, or Chemistry, is what we're saying.

Man, we're going to watch it from now on. We're going to straighten up and just give you the real shit. We're going to watch our step with the RYS JobFinder feature in hopes of making it an integral part of the RYS experience.

We thank you for the feedback. Please to enjoy today's entry.

---

Hampshire College
Queer Student Coordinator


Hampshire College, an independent, innovative liberal arts institution, is accepting applications for a Coordinator of Queer Student Services. Under the direction of the Associate Dean of Student Development, the Coordinator of Queer Student Services provides programmatic and administrative support for the activities and initiatives of the Queer Community Alliance Center.

Responsibilities include the development, delivery and evaluation of a comprehensive program on gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer issues (GLBTQ). Bachelor's degree required, Master's preferred. Able to mentor students and foster an environment of collaboration; must be computer literate and have excellent interpersonal, communication and organizational skills. This position requires weekend and evening hours.

We offer a competitive salary and benefits package. Send letter of interest, resume and names/phone numbers of three professional references to:

Coordinator of Queer Student Services Search
Human Resource Office
Hampshire College
Amherst, MA 01002

http://hr.hampshire.edu/

Final Followup On Principled Paul. Snowballs in Charge.

In the aftermath of the Principled Paul posting, someone wrote, "Paul is living proof that those who can't do, consult." Someone else wrote, "Well, Paul's an asshole and I hope his consulting money chokes him."

First, of all, why the animus against someone who consults? Paul used to be full-time faculty, so he must have the academic chops; that he went on to consult full time for a while has no bearing on his ability to teach well. That he obviously has made a lot of money doing so is likewise irrelevant. Consulting has no a priori relationship to the ability to be an effective university instructor, and faculty who believe that it does are themselves suspect: perhaps not good enough to be hired as consultants themselves. [And no, I've never been a consultant].

Second, Paul was deemed a desirable faculty member to teach whatever the course was--perhaps he was even the best qualified--who knows? That he quit doesn't negate that. It simply seems to say that he was unwilling to allow that kind of aggressive snowflake behavior in his section; he had no problem with the student going into another section and made no move to blackball the student outside of his section.

The issue was forced not by Paul so much as by 1) the snowflake student, who behaved in a grossly inappropriate way, and then had to run to the Administration AND Mommy to get them to make it all better [instead of dropping Paul's section and adding a different one--where, one hopes, he would have been smart enough to leave off with the 'f-bombs']; or by 2) the Administration, which couldn't follow the most basic of academic rules at any institution I've every encountered: students who disrupt a class may be asked to leave and / or drop it. So why didn't the assorted deans and chairs simply tell the student that this sort of behavior isn't acceptable, and he needs to find another section of the course.

Finally, Mommy needs to butt out and stop brokering her kid's life; no wonder he's such a jerk, if she's the one calling the dean to say that she thinks he MIGHT apologize. Snowflake city, and the snowballs are all in charge.

Big Thirsty: Just How Big a Deal Is the Silly Bus Anyway?

Q: I have two mentors, one who actually is my mentor, and one self-appointed goober who is always telling me what I should be doing, who I should be lunching with, and which mistakes are going to doom me. My real mentor, Average April, spent hours showing me the long development of her own syllabus, a majestic piece of text that is 14 pages long. She spells everything out for the students, and at the top of the first page she says, "This is the complete and official contract between [STUDENT NAME] and the Professor."

My fake mentor, Joshing Jerry, tells me that when he first went to college he thought the professor was telling them to look out for the "silly bus" that would be coming for them the next day. He says make it a page long, and not to worry about it. "They don't read it," he says. "Why on earth would you slave over something they aren't going to take seriously anyway."

I've done a syllabus for each of my classes already, modest 2-3 page things, but now I'm paralyzed. I worry my students will take advantage if I don't include pages of policies and guidelines, but I also would like to leave a lot of wiggle room as it's my first way teaching completely on my own. I still have one more week before classes, I'd like to hear from others. What do you do think about the silly bus?

A: Send your replies here.

RYS JobFinder.

Dartmouth College
Director of Outdoor Programs

Dartmouth College is seeking a dedicated and engaged leader who is committed to making a difference in a student-focused and collaborative environment. As part of the Dean of Student Life's senior management team, the Director of Outdoor Programs is responsible for the administration and oversight of the Outdoor Programs Office.

The Outdoor Programs Office supports the academic mission of the College by planning and implementing a diverse array of outdoor recreation programs to enhance student learning and experiences and to provide leadership and guidance to students in organizational and activity planning and management.

Key Responsibilities:

• Supervises department staff of 14 full-time and numerous students, part-time and seasonal employees.


• Manages extensive variety of facilities include a lodge, cabins, boat house, organic farm, climbing gym, ropes and team courses, and hiking and ski trails.


• Oversees wide range of recreational and experiential learning trips, classes and programs and the advisement of the student-run Dartmouth Outing Club and its programs.

Qualifications for employment include a minimum of seven years full-time work experience in outdoor education or related fields with significant supervisory, operations management, budget, and strategic planning experience. Demonstrated skills in promoting pluralism and intercultural understanding are highly desirable.

Submit letter of application, resume, and contact information for three professional references to the OPO Director Search Committee at https://searchjobs.dartmouth.edu/ under job # 0016500.

Where a Number of Readers Line Up For and Against The Principled One.

• Principled Paul has me thinking: I'm going to start hiring a student from the Theater department to come into my classes on the first day and play the part of Prick. I mean, how great would it make the rest of the semester, to have the entire class see you kick someone out on the first day? And have it actually stick--as in the guy never shows up again--rather than having the pussies in the administration taking the jerk kid's side?
  


• Oh, yes, the principled ones are always the heroes. Well, Paul's an asshole and I hope his consulting money chokes him. This is not some noble act, Paul. This is petulant and childish. Why not work the situation through with your chair and the Dean? Why not go to the mats about it? You took your ball and went home? Fuck that.



• Kids do stupid things. I did, I know, and the "prick" surely did. But what has been learned from this? The kid's going to think he got Paul fired. Paul, who may or may not be a good teacher, has just turned his back on everything leaving the mess for someone else. It's ugly and awful, and nobody acquitted themselves very well.
  


• This situation made me sick: speechless, stomach-churning, enraged and ultimately powerless. Apparently Paul could afford to quit rather than take that jerk back into his section, and although I'm sorry that he had to do that, I'm glad he did; sometimes principles can trump b.s. administrative fiats. But that leaves the rest of us who can't afford to quit shakier than ever. What happens when we get our 'own' asshole student? I would have done exactly what Paul did--exactly. But when faced with 'take him back or else' I would have had to cave and take him back, however much I would have hated to do so. This frightened me a lot.



• Principled Paul is my hero. Bravo, sir, bravo. Even if it's not going to do anyone any good, because the system is so broken that they'll find a desperate someone to take their shit and eat it too.



• Paul is living proof that those who can't do, consult. Never toss a student overboard when the structure of your class can do it for you. Darius from Dogpatch pipes up wise? Good. Go Socratic on his ass. Forever. His life, not yours, is about to become a living hell. Your problem was that you let the little mouthbreather see daylight. Consider how fast this all turned around. He's done this before. Do your job. You're the teacher. Time to teach someone a lesson. Right there. Day one. In the classroom. Darius Dunceboy's going down. He needs to explain - to you, to the class, to the flag on the wall - why he believes that his behavior is acceptable. Make him squirm. Make his neighbors squirm. Make the little birdies parked on the windowsill squirm. Next, it's essay time . . . for everyone. Let's all address this question in 500 words. Call it a teachable moment.

Keeping Clay Clean. Two Search Committee Vets Use Sarcasm, Imperialism, and Mad Power to Address Cleveland's Misguided One.

Courteous Clay's ten search committee suggestions was met by a rather large group of responses that more or less said, "Way to go, baby." Most readers liked his notions, and felt that what he was looking for was just "decent treatment" by committees. (One post even proposed marriage; that's how high the wick got turned at times.)

But none of those posts went much beyond "hurray," and we've sort of gone against our normal method and decided to run a couple of pieces here that came in on the other side, what we'll call the Pro-Yabo contingent.

While the majority of readers were with Clay, these two replies - we think - showcase a fascinating divide between job searchers and committee members. We encourage you to print all of this info out and share it with your brethern and sistern. Or, in keeping with modern ideals of saving resources, bring your pals to your computer screen to eyeball it themselves. (And don't forget to power down the same screen when you're done, you wasteful bastards.)

--

I'm one of those folks who will be serving on a search committee this fall. Thanks for your sweet suggestions. You are too kind. Might I reply? Since you've so thoughtfully provided an enumerated list of demands helpful hints, I'll endeavor to reply to each.

1) Our internal candidate is just that -- an internal candidate. S/he will likely compete against two other equally qualified and equally desirable candidates, if s/he acquits herself well during the year-long interview s/he's enduring right now. If s/he does not, s/he will not even make the short list.

2) Our ad has already been composed with laser-like precision. If you don't do field X with subfield Y, don't bother to apply. Which leads us to point 3.

3) If our ad gets even more specific before we post it, it's because our internal candidate (who is the only known specialist in field X, subfield Y with mad aeronautics and sick macrame skillz) is definitely getting the job. We decided. Read the ad again if you doubt this.

4) You guessed it, we're asking for that huge and daunting pile of application materials. Folks who don't want the gig badly enough won't bother to apply. Eeeeexcellent.

5) No form letter? Dream on, pally. Our very capable but extremely overburdened administrative assistant and her two marginally literate work-study students will get the form letters out as soon as they are able. But we will provide, in these form letters, an actual date by which you can expect to hear from us if you're shortlisted. Hint: If you're invited to campus, you'd best be wonderful to said administrative assistant. If you dare ask her to make eleventy-six copies of your job talk handout at the last minute, you're sunk.

6) See number 5. Timetable. Appears. In. Form. Letter.

7) Any idiot would know that "evidence of successful teaching" consists of multiple methods of evaluation, like student evaluations, and peer evaluations, and supervisory evaluations, and perhaps, illustrations of your own especially brilliant pedagogical innovations. But obviously, you're not just any idiot. Don't bother to send your RMP page. We're googling you anyway.

8) The phone interview will only happen if you're hapless enough to miss your flight to the conference, Wrong-Way Corrigan. If you get the phone interview, start tap dancing. And fax us a pic of your latest macrame stylings, evening gown division.

9) Darn right we'll treat you just like the other two on-campus interviewers. But that junior faculty member you're being "fobbed off on" has just as much of a vote on the hiring committee as does elderly Professor Dotage or Search Committee Chair Professor Smiley. And Professor Junior is going to be the one who will have to team-teach with the new hire, so s/he's got the last word on whether you're "collegial" enough for this gig. If s/he thinks you're an asshole, you're toast.

10) You bet it matters who we hire. Our decisions have huge consequences -- for us. We're going to have to spend time with our new hire every damned day, for what could conceivably become decades on end. We're going to have to serve on committees, split pathetic merit raise money, commiserate about administration, and share our own daily woes and victories with this person. Oh yes, it matters who we choose. And I, for one, am not going to be voting for anyone who is already as pissed-off, pugnacious and persnickety as you are now, this early in your career! You've yet to earn your curmudgeon stripes, Private Slick Sleeve.

--

I have the following responses for you and your advice. Please note that I regularly sit on search committees and before this I regularly participated and made hiring decisions outside the ivory tower.

1) You gave the reasons why this isn’t going to happen, get over it.

2) Our ads can be as focused as you would like, and we would still get yahoos that don’t read them. I can write that the successful candidate has at least a Masters in discipline X and at least half of the applicant will be from discipline Y, because it is “close enough.”

3) Maybe what we need only seems outrageous to you. We may very well be looking for a rocket building, burlap weaving poet… and eventually we will find just that. It is not our problem that you don’t match our needs.

4) See number two, this added work keeps the yahoos down to a manageable level. In addition, the effort demonstrated by this work shows who is interested in our position versus who is interested in a position.

5) Again, get over it. This is the way the world works and what our schedule allows most times. You go tell the over worked support staff we have that your pretty snowflake self wants a personal letter.

6) See number five Mr. Snowflake. I think this demand ranks right up with my students asking for detailed study guides for every test.

7) Heaven forbid we make you think and decide how best to represent yourself (trust me a Perez Hilton routine won’t do it). No formalized list would do justice to everyone, so we let you make that decision for yourself. Student equivalent – “How many pages does the paper have to be, and what type of margins do I have to use?”

8) Say something if you cannot understand a question. See how simple that is.

9) “Treat me like I were a colleague, because that's what I might be one day.” – Highly doubtful from what I have read so far.

10) It does matter how search committees are run, but after a few dozen (or hundred) of you little snowflakes even the best of us get tired. In the end I can honestly say that the good candidates get the jobs and the ones that don’t… well there is usually a reason.

Bertlemass from Boston Gets a First Day Beat Down. Is Now an RYS Believer.

Okay, I give.

I taught my very first college level class today, and I'm here to say that all the hyperbolic venting and shit-throwing on RYS is absolutely true. I prayed it was all just a ruse, just a smokescreen to keep the weak ass shits out of academe.

But it's not, at least not based on my first day.

I'm not a college romantic. I don't have the Dead Poets Society kinda vibe in me. I wasn't looking for applause or respect or love on that first day.

But, tell me, am I wrong, am I completely crazy, or are all of the freshman students complete fucking retards?

My mama didn't raise me this way; I shouldn't use that word. But nothing else fits? Brain-damaged? Is that it? Have they all been locked in a room that's been freshly painted?

These are things I was asked today in class:

• Are you a Mr. or Mrs.?


• What days do we get off for "spring" break?


• Do we have to take all of the mandatory tests?


• The syllabus says essays have to be typed. Where am I going to find a typewriter?


• Do you have a website with all of the test answers on it?


• How do I call you on the phone? Your phone number is ext (dot) 1123. Is that enough numbers?


• Can you spell your name on the board. The way it's on the syllabus must be a typo. There are too many "vulls."


• I heard that some classes have class parties on Fridays. Do we do that?


• If this class just meets Tuesday and Thursday what do I do on the other days?

There were some others, but I've blocked them out. It all went a little black there at the end. My head was spinning after about 30 minutes of class so I just let them all go.

Jesus on a Pony! What am I going to do? Do you know how long I spent getting ready for this day? Half of grad school is over and I know I'm fucked. This can't be what it's like. Am I being Punk'd?

Some Shitty College Has a Job Opening...Like Right Now. Principled Paul Pitches Prick Out of Class.

A frequent reader of these pages sent this timeline along this morning:

I'm a part-timer. I wasn't always. I taught for a while in the early 90s, then fell into educational consulting. That went very well for me and now I consult half time and teach the occasional class at a local university that has always treated me well. Here's what happened yesterday:

8:05 am

While going through the syllabus in class, I told students that it was their responsibility to be there on time, that coming late 3 times equalled an absence, and that 6 absences (university policy) allowed me to drop them. I told them that years ago when I first taught, I used to sit at the classroom door at the top of the hour and pass out red "tardy" cards to those who came late. I told them I didn't do it anymore because really it was the student's responsibility and not mine. I said, "Come to class on time, or just stay in bed. I don't want you interrupting the work of this class."

As I looked down at my syllabus to discuss the next point, a clear voice from the side of the room said, "Fuck that." It wasn't my hearing. The audible gasp and then nervous laughter from a number of students told me I'd heard it correctly. I said, "Pardon me. Who said that? I don't think I heard you clearly." There was silence for a minute and then a young man against the windows on one side of the room said, "Oh, Mr. Professor, I said, 'FORGET that.'" Then more laughter, him most of all.

I looked him over for a second and then said, "I'm sorry I don't know your name yet, but would you please get your stuff and go. This is not going to work out." More silence, and the young man didn't move. "I'm not joking. I don't care what kind of language you use in your own life, but in this classroom, any reasonable person knows that disrespecting me and this class is not going to work."

"I didn't say anything bad," he said, but I was glad to see he was picking his back pack up at the same time. I moved toward him and said, "I'm sorry this didn't work out. But there are a number of other sections of this class and you'll be able to transfer to one of them."

When he got to the door he turned around and looked back at me and said, "Fuck that." And then he was gone.

Class went on pretty normally after that, though the students were awfully quiet. We covered the syllabus, and did a sample writing assignment. I told them I was eager to get going on Thursday when we met again and they filed out. A couple of students came by to ask follow up questions and when they were done I went to a small adjunct lounge near the classroom.

10:12 am

A young lady came into the adjunct lounge where I was reading and said, "Are you Dr. Xxxxxx?" "Yes," I said. "Can I help you?" "Dr. Yyyyyy wants you to come to her office."

Yyyyyy is the department chair. I'd met her a few times during my original hiring a couple of years ago, and her husband let me use his office one semester when he took a sabbatical.

10:20 am

Dr. Yyyyyy, who I call Jane, waved me into her office and said, "Close the door, Dr. Xxxxxx." I sat down and she held up a piece of paper. "I have a student complaint. First day, and already a complaint. Do you know a student named Zzzzzzzz Aaaaaaaa?" "I know his name's on my roster, but I couldn't tell you for sure which one he is yet." "Well," she said, "he tells me you kicked him out of class without provocation this morning."

"Oh, I know who he is. He said 'fuck that' in my class, twice actually. I'm not teaching him. Let him register in someone else's class."

Dr. Yyyyyy then asked me to tell her what happened, and I did. I wasn't mad; I wasn't hysterical. It was matter of fact to me. I'm not about to let that level of disrespect go.

"You have to take him back. It'd be best if you took him back."

"I won't do it."

We were at an impasse. "I have to get into this with the Dean," she said. "Where are you going to be?"

I told her I had class at 11 and then I was headed home.

2:00 pm

At home, after an uneventful second class, a phone call came in from Disaster Dean, the dean who gets the shit jobs. "We have a problem," Disaster Dean said. "There's a student complaining about being kicked out of class and Dr. Yyyyyy tells me you won't take him back." I told Disaster Dean the story again and there was a pause.

"You won't do it?" he asked.

"No, that young man is not going to be in my class. I don't want to be subjected to it, and the other 29 students shouldn't have to put up with it either."

3:15 pm

"Hi," a voice said. "I'm Uri the Union guy and we better get our ducks in a row."

"Huh," I said.

Uri went on to tell me that some other adjuncts who'd heard the story called him and got him on "the case." "We're trying to save your job," he said. "We're trying to keep you in the classroom."

I learned that Dr. Yyyyyy had already turned in "termination papers" to the human resources office, labelling me "insubordinate." I had "refused" a teaching assignment she had given me.

"Uri," I said. "If I have to fight to keep a job like that, it's not worth fighting for."

6:20 pm

Disaster Dean called. "This can be saved," he said.

8:10 pm

Dr. Yyyyyy called. "If I got the student to apologize, would you teach the class?"

"I thought I'd already been terminated," I said.

"Things can change," she said. "I've spoken to the young man's mother and she thinks he'll apologize."

"She THINKS he might apologize? Do you THINK we'd be so lucky."

Silence.

9:30 pm

I called Dr. Yyyyyy. "Well?"

"He apologized," she said. "He'll be on his best behavior Thursday morning."

"What class will he be in?" I said.

"Uh...yours, of course. 8 am!"

"Get someone else," I said.

Ten Polite Instructions For Search Committees, Courtesy of Courteous Clay From Cleveland.

Listen up to all the yabos who are getting drafted to work on search committees this year.

I know you've got a full plate and all that, but shitfire would you please follow the following "human decency" rules.

1. I already know you can't follow this one, but it doesn't hurt to bring it up. IF YOU HAVE AN INTERNAL CANDIDATE YOU'RE ALREADY GOING TO HIRE, LEAVE THE REST OF US THE FUCK ALONE! Sure, your human resources goober says you must, the Dean requires, etc. But it's A-1 Bad Faith! Or if you're leaning toward an internal candidate, play fair with our applications at least.



2. Write a real fucking ad with real information. Don't be coy. Don't be subtle. Ask what you're looking for. Tell us what the job ACTUALLY entails. Don't beat around the bush. You get so many lousy applications because you write such vague and (often) misleading ads.



3. Be reasonable with expectations. Don't ask for someone who's a specialist in synchronized diving, but who also can fly a rocketship and make party dresses out of burlap and twine. I know you have these NEEDS, but put yourself in the place of an applicant and ask, "Could I do all of that shit? Would I?"
   


4. Don't ask us for teaching evaluations, letters, teaching philosophy, sample syllabi, and writing samples right at the start. Are you kidding me? You're not going to read all of them. Everyone knows it. Use your fucking PhD degrees to read letters and CVs in the first round, cut out the 79.5% of the people who applied to the wrong job, and THEN ask for ancillary materials. Not only are you killing trees for no reason, you're also digging your fat fingers into my pocketbook, and I - no - likey!
   


5. I don't give a shit HOW many applications you get. ARRANGE FOR SOME OFFICE HELP TO REPLY TO EVERYTHING. Don't be a bunch of rude fucking goons either with a form letter that says, "Due to the overwhelming interest in our 4/4 slave wages live in Buttfuck Kansas job, we will only contact you if you are shitlisted, er, I mean shortlisted." That's bullshit. You likely want us to treat you professionally, so how about some of the same treatment!



6. In your first letter to applicants, TELL US THE TIMETABLE. Are you interviewing on campus in December, or at a convention, or on the phone? How many people do you shortlist? When does it happen? When will I hear? Who will contact me?



7. In the second round, when you ask for ancillary materials, don't pose your request like it's a FUCKING RIDDLE. When you say, "send evidence of successful teaching," do you want a video of me sending my class up in hysterics with my Perez Hilton routine? Do you want something from my boss? You want teaching evaluations from students? You want a self-evaluation? You want to know about my teaching awards? Can I just send you my RapeMyProfessor page, the one where 46% of the posts are either from me or my pal Big Eddie?



8. Phone interview with 9 committee members? Spring for the really good Radio Shack speakerphone, okay? That's the first thing. Also, when it's your turn to ask the question, AIM YOUR PIEHOLE AT THE FUCKING DEVICE. If you normally can't be heard in a church, there's no way I'm going to hear you at my shitty apartment.



9. If we get to come to campus as one of 2-3 candidates, TREAT ME THE SAME AS THE OTHERS. I don't care if I'm your FAVORITE or not. We all deserve the same shot. Don't fob me off on a junior faculty member because you've already made your mind up on some other guy. That's not fair. Show me respect. Treat me like I were a colleague, because that's what I might be one day.
   


10. DON'T TREAT ME LIKE I'M AN ENEMY TO YOUR HAPPINESS. I don't care if you were FORCED to be on the search committee. It's your duty this semester and do it well. Pretend like it fucking matters. Because, baby, it does.

RYS JobFinder - A New (And Soon to Be Hated) Feature.

Central Texas College
Instructors at Sea

Position requires a Masters degree with 18 graduate hours in discipline to be taught. Instructors are needed immediately in English and Math.

This position teaches aboard deployed U.S. Navy ships. Applicant must be in good physical condition, be able to pass a government background check and have a valid US Passport.Please express interest to : 1-800-784-5470 or email ncpace.pacificjobs@ctcd.edu

--

We welcome your submissions of juicy,
interesting, and nutty job ads from
any source and discipline.

"The Dock." The Ballad of Luke and Lukette.

Previous "Hideaway" Posts:

Tears * Stairs * Stream * Gallery * Quad

Let the envy begin!

Yes, I teach at what some call a "maritime" academy, and we are actually on the water. This dock is not my hideaway, but the hideaway of two of my least favorite students ever.

Luke and Lukette were lovers. Oh, they were hot for each other. They went at it before class like they were in an Adrian Lyne movie.

Half the way through the semester they broke up and took chairs on opposite sides of the room. Lukette took to cursing Luke from across the room sometimes, quickly, sharply, and then right back to work. Luke, on at least one occasion, ran from class, tears in his eyes.

I didn't want to deal with it. I didn't want to get involved. I wanted them to make up and go back to being annoying, but at least together.

During finals week, Luke came to my office, head drooped. Without asking, he told me the whole story, the drama, the misery, the heartbreak. It was pathetic. It was ugly. It was like when a 14 year old discovers "love" for the first time. I admit I wasn't sympathetic; he wasn't my advisee, and I didn't know him at all. I tried to keep Luke focused on finishing class, but he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if I clearly didn't understand the kind of love he was talking about. When I said, "School's the important thing," he replied, "But I can't live without her." Before I could stop myself, I said something like, "Give me a break." He stormed out of my office.

After finals were over, and after both of them had failed the class, I was walking across campus to a regents' dinner. It was dusk and unseasonably chilly on the water. As I passed the dock I saw two figures at the end. It was Luke and Lukette, huddled inside his jacket, whispering, talking, oblivious to the rest of the world. Their faces seemed lit from within.

I never saw them again. I wonder still what happened to them. Did they make it? Are there little Lukalicious kids somewhere with big hearts and overblown love ability? Or did they - like most campus romantics - grow the hell up and get on with their lives.

I wonder, too, why I wasn't more sympathetic. When I think of them on that dock, I guess I still feel a kind of envy. Their "love," for lack of a better term, was all-consuming. It blotted out the bullshit of my class, that's for sure. It took up the biggest space in their hearts and heads, and for them, it was beautiful.

Did I ever have that? Could my marriage have been saved by some of that all-consuming love. Did I marry the right person? Did I give love a second chance? I think of them every time I see that dock.

--

With this 6th posting, we're closing down the "Where Do You Hide?" series.
Thanks to everyone who submitted. We could only post a few of them, but we thank you all for sharing your hideaways with us.

Pinky Is Pro-Podcasting, So We Feel Old Fashioned Just Old-School-Posting Her "Intellectual" Property.

With respect to the Junior Lemur's comments about surveying the monkeys, I'm not sure whether the Lemur meant that podcasting is the most depressing or least depressing request, but frankly, I'm shocked he/she included it in the list. Perhaps it's because I'm a technologist by trade, but I honestly fail to understand the fear and loathing with which most faculty seem to view podcasting. It's as if they never quite got over the transition from Smith-Corona to Macintosh, and now here's *another* new-fangled gizmo these damn kids want!

First, if you fear that students are going to skip class and simply watch or listen to the podcast, institute an attendance policy. If that's too much work, then hold your podcasts until a week before each exam, and release them as review notes. Is this a problem, really?

Second, and really, this is the core of my argument, if a student can do nothing but listen to the podcasts of your class and still pass the course with at least a C, I'd say you're not doing it right. Coming to class should be an experience that can't be replicated with a microphone and an iPod. I understand that not all subjects are enthralling, and I know that many (or even most) students aren't willing or able to be enthralled. That said, there should be something worthwhile in your class time that isn't transmissible via PowerPoint. Sorry, but there it is.

Finally, there's that grating contingent of profs who claim that podcasting their lectures will put their important intellectual property at risk. These people just make me laugh, because they plainly understand neither copyright law nor the ubiquity of recording technology. Believe me, Professor Knickers-In-A-Twist, if your lecture was as valuable as all that, someone would already have recorded it and put a torrent out there for public consumption.

That's the way the world works now, and all the ivory-tower retreat-and-fortify maneuvers in the world won't change it.

"Best. Graphics. Ever." Where We Impale Allan with Our Feverish Wit.

You guys don't get enough credit for your graphics. I don't know which one of you "crazzies" does the images but they're always great, and yesterday was the best ever.

The monkey with the beer can was great, but the Harlequin Romance novel to accompany the insipid Chronicle of "Fiery" Education story was even better. Do me a favor and do me up a nice graphic to go with my post, okay? Give me something to really relish.

If you'd have me, I'd be happy to help you guys out with some stuff. Send me some "story ideas" and I'll work up some images.

Sign me,
Allan the Aardvark-Antagonist from Athens!

PS: Do your worst!

Final Results of "I Am" Poll.

I am finally settled: 42%

I am on the outside, looking in: 28%

I am on the job market: 27%

I am nearing retirement: 3%

BREAKING NEWS: Finally, The Chronicle Goes Soft-Core.

For those who always thought the Chronicle wasn't quite naughty enough. Enjoy some flava from a "first person" experience below.

An (Academic) Affair to Remember
Given a chance to explore an old passion, an assistant professor learns the rules and realities of a conference romance

BY LAURA MERCER

At the first conference following our months of e-mailing, we met at the hotel bar in midafternoon for a drink. Revealing both my nerves and my nerve, I was the first to suggest he should come to my room.

Once we were there, my new paramour delivered a little talk. He said I should know that he wasn't planning to leave his marriage. Each experience, as he put it, was something separate to be enjoyed, but I shouldn't assume it would necessarily happen again. As he took my hand in his, he said he worried I might get hurt.

Well, what could I say? It seemed a little late to back out. So, thus cautioned, I took the plunge. At the time, I felt no guilt and no regrets, intoxicated as I was, not from the one glass of wine, but from a sort of daydream come true.

Harsh realities had to intervene soon. Two important rules of the conference affair came to light during those first two days together: No overnights in the same room. And keep public interaction to a minimum.

I'd been fantasizing about romantic getaways in which we could spend a lot of time together, but I soon realized what a good compartmentalizer my partner was. He thought of our affair more as a series of opportunities for a little excitement in an otherwise "conference-as-usual" atmosphere.

Throughout those conferences, over many months, I'm afraid I became more and more like a lovesick teenybopper in the halls at school — scanning the crowd for the object of my crush, observing him from afar, trying to catch his eye. Intellectually I understood the limits of our situation, but emotionally I was a wreck.

It dawned on me that I had strong feelings for a man who was basically interested in casual encounters — on his terms.

Read the rest of this, breathlessly.

One of Our Dearest Favorites Is Off His Meds. (Come On, That's One of the Oldest RYS Jokes Of All, And We Only Use it With Luff.)

I wonder if most people create a pretend email to write into you with. My computer took a dump last week and rerouted a bunch of mail, so a few pleasantries sent out to the compound went to I don't know where and perhaps appeared to be from I don't even know who.

The whole episode got me thinking that RYS contributes a sort of strange quality to my campus experience. I'm always looking for the hot ass overhead projector math proffie ('is that his eyes on my ass or the heat from the bulb' lady, in my mind one of the best ever posts up in here) or maybe searching for that stream, office, or art gallery. I see the voices of RYS just beneath the surface on a daily basis. Isn't it true that Wicked Walter is really a woman named Wilma and that she's maybe my Dean in the Sciences? Her cover is deep, but I'm onto her.

I think someone is on to me. Do I really care? Not so much, but it makes me a bit queasy imagining that without even knowing it, face to face, I could be giving my line to a colleague-moderator who read what I really think this morning. So maybe I'll retreat into the wilderness of some email alter-ego for future correspondence. How exciting, right? It's underground for me - deeper, I mean. This email is made up too. I'm totally trying to frame this dickhead for being some kind of asshole. She's really all about mentoring and being patient with the dumb kids. This other stuff is just an act.

Maybe I'll virtually come back as one of those chiefs. Is it wrong to steal an already fake identity? Is that like hyper-theft? Anyways, fuck all the haters (I know who you all are anyways), god bless our snowflakes, may we teach and quicken them, and peace to RYS. The rest is silence.

"The Quad."

Previous "Hideaway" Posts:
Tears * Stairs * Stream * Gallery

I don't know how anyone can hide during the school year. But today, the last day before students arrive en masse, I can sit on the benches around our east quad and remember when I was a student here just 8 years ago. That building was mine. I entered it as an 18 year old wild-ass, and now I'm an instructor here, getting ready to tame the wild-ass-ed-ness of students who move in next week.

I always thought that my best teachers were those who remembered what it was like, remembered being a student, knowing that it was hard to be away from home, hard to find a balance to the studying, socializing, the activities, the laundry.

And so as I sat in the quad this afternoon I promised myself to come here once a term and remember that I was here, right here, 8 years ago, dumb, young, confused, lost, a precious little snowflake like no other.

If we just remember ourselves at that age, how hard can it be?

Good luck on the new semester everyone!

Where One of Our Readers Stretches the Whole Monkey / Ape Metaphor Almost to Breaking. And in This One the Monkeys Are In Charge of The Zoo.

The silverbacks in my department had a bright idea: for the three open faculty positions we have, let's let the students help to decide what we want and who we want!

As coordinator of the searches, it became my job as a junior lemur to survey the monkeys on behalf of the silverbacks. The monkeys' positions on who they want for their academic trainers was as uninspired as, well, comments from monkeys (or lower order mammals) on tenure track faculty posts.

In order of depressive factor:

• We want someone attractive. These old guys are just so, like, old and ugly. Someone pretty would make me pay attention more. (This conversation quickly devolved to primal levels in the back of the room).


• We want someone who only speaks English, maybe someone from Britain or Australia. These foreign professors are so hard to understand. (The monkeys went wild temporarily for the idea of a Crocodile Dundee type)


• We want someone who doesn't make us read so much. (Shocker!)


• We want someone who holds class outside... or in a bar. (The ever present student request rears its head again)


• We want someone who will always be at his office hours. (This one's fair, the silverbacks are notorious for roosting in the faculty office, not their offices).


• We want someone who will podcast all lectures. Maybe they could even record them and put them on YouTube so we can watch them later. (Riotous chatter from the monkeys ensues).

The meeting was scheduled for one hour. I ended it at 45 minutes. I slunk back to my office and am still trying desperately to write something less sarcastic than this to the silverbacks.

I just hope that the head apes don't decide to put these same monkeys on my tenure and promotion committee next year.

Candace from Canton Lowers the Boom on Aruba-Bound Amanda. Yet Another Vacation Tragedy.

Dear Amanda,

Thank you sooooo much for e-mailing me several times over the summer. I am very glad that you took the time to read my "Auto Reply" that indicates that I won't be responding to fall semester e-mails until late August. Did you know that I don't get paid in the summer and therefore don't get paid to answer your e-mail until my paycheck starts up again? Silly me, for thinking that you would read the message (since you got one for each of your seven poorly spelled, all caps e-mails).

I know that your Previous Proffie was very understanding of your special circumstances, how kind of you to note that in your e-mails. However, I expect my students to show up to class, on time - particularly for the first week of class. I know how much you want to be in my class....you've bought the books, you want me to send you notes and handouts, you're "ready and excited to learn" in my class. What I cannot understand is why you would think it's OK to miss the entire first week of a 5 unit class. I know you think that since you've e-mailed me many times explaining how you are special and bought your plane tickets to Aruba a year ago, but you see I have 80 other special individuals (plus waitlisted students and crashers) who will be in class on the first day with their books, picking up their handouts and actually taking their own notes during the first week that you "will miss but hope it doesn't impact your grade."

Well. my dear wonderful would-be student, it won't impact your grade. You see, you'll be dropped from my roster on the first day of class because you aren't there. I'm so sorry. I know that your life will be turned upside down because I don't understand how special you are. I know your Previous Proffie really went out of his way to not only let you miss class for a vacation last fall, but also provided you with his Powerpoint files and let you "make up the missed time" in his office hours. However, I don't use Powerpoint and use my office hours as a way to clarify and augment my lectures, not repeat them for absentee students. Clearly I am not as student-oriented as Previous Proffie because I don't realize how special you are and what an ASSet you'll be for my class this fall. I know, it's a shortcoming that I must work on within myself.

I sincerely wish you well in your future academic endeavors. Should you want to enroll in my spring class, please do so and plan on showing up on Day 1 and Every Day of class after that.

Some Followup on The Gallery.

• I love The Gallery. There's a beautiful case of a prof who takes lemons and makes lemonade from it. I know many of my colleagues who'd have taken the same situation and made a lemon-flavored shit-storm for anyone in the vicinity. We should all be so lucky to get such an alternate office location.
  


• Am I the only one left with the strange idea that the professor in this case is unknowingly some kind of installation piece? "Proffie at work." Although the specimen in this case has been removed from her normal native habitat, see how well she has adapted to her new surroundings. Truly the professor is an adaptable breed...
  


• I am pleased that, like the proffie with the stream, some people can actually share a story of some contentment and pleasure in their academic lives. Please do not spoil this one like you did the last one by posting the vitriol of envious jackasses.

Thirsty Replies for a Thirsty Populace. Mentoring? A Little Dirt, a Little Sugarcoat.

We had a big mail day here at the compound regarding mentoring a new proffie. We've done our best to sort out some representative pieces, but apologize to all the folks we were unable to give space to. We trust that you'll enjoy the flava below:

• Why does everyone gotta have a line? A line of attack, a party line, a line of bullshit? Why is it that your choices for mentoring this person are limited to freaking them out and making them jaded with the truth or numbing them with lies? You're a mentor... a concept that is, unfortunately, lost in our society. I am one of the lucky few who truly have a mentor... a teacher, a friend, an example, a confidant, and someone who truly has my best interest at heart. If you want to do this person a favor, form a relationship with them that's based on "developing them" instead of "telling them."
  


• I'm a second year t-t asst. Last year, my assigned mentor (a 25-year career associate) called with the good news, a mere two weeks before the semester was to start. He said something like this: "Hi, This is John. I have been assigned to be your mentor, but I don't know what that means." I never heard from him again. I don't know what you should say, but DON'T say that. BTW, I learned very quickly why John was STILL an associate. It was one of the most important lessons I learned last year. Maybe my chair wanted to teach me something after all?
  


• There's no need to tell your mentee about the bad shit. It's there. He'll discover it on his own, and you can help him wade through it. Mix up a margarita (and leave that out of the Official Paperwork), vent, and then move on to the good stuff - what you've been enjoying in your teaching and your research. If you've made it this far without becoming jaded, why turn a newbie over to the dark side? Be yourself and be available. No relationship can be forced. Your mentee may need you a lot - or he may not need you at all. Either way, you're the first one in the department that he'll get to know, and his interactions with you will shape his view of the department, university and profession. No pressure.
  


• I want to tell a new colleague who the snakes are, but I know that if I do that I'm part of the problem, and one of the snakes will be me. So I'll tell a new colleague how not to make a Powerpoint, what to put on a quiz, and to avoid the coffee in the university cafeteria. I'll advise her to have a look at the classrooms she'll be teaching in before the first class, and offer to go over there with her to check out the AV equipment and make sure it works. I'll tell her who to talk to in IT if the Blackboard or Moodle setup is giving her trouble. I'll take her for coffee sometime in the second week and tell her that the first week is always hell. And if she asks about one of the snakes, I'll find some way to be tactful, and the words "treacherous bastard" won't even come up.
  


• What should you tell the new proffie? Tell her what she wants to know. I’m a newbie at my first T/T position. I doubt you’re my mentor, but you might as well be. I gather from your flirtation with generic information distribution that all mentors are much the same. I dare you to tell me what I really need to know. So here is what I want to know: 1. Is this department political? I couldn’t tell from your group hugs at my campus visit, although I was a bit skeptical when I saw the department chair give our obscure instrument specialist a friendly embrace. Scratch that. I know it’s political. Tell me which side to be on. I’m fickle and eager to please. 2. How many publications do we *really* need to have? Tenure education Mildred seemed to believe three peer reviewed publications per year were as vital to tenure as oxygen is to life (or as gin is to grading papers). However, upon inspection of Mildred’s CV, and your CV, dear mentor, I didn’t see anything like that. 3. What the hell is department service anyway? During my orientation, Assistant chair Carl said that if he calls 2 days before the semester is scheduled to begin and asks me to teach a class that nobody else wants, like “Mating Habits of Fuzzy Caterpillars” for instance, that I had better say yes and draw up that syllabus in a jiffy. Do I really have to be the department doormat, scratching post, and whipping boy? Forget all that. Tell me what I really need to know. As your mentee, know that I want to be a good teacher, scholar, and colleague. You’ve been where I am. Tell me how to survive. If you know, tell me how to thrive. I’m listening.
  


• Here's the thing: unless you've hired someone whose five senses have been completely damaged in some horrible way, New Colleague will quickly (if not already) figure out what the bad stuff is. Toxicity always leaks (see Love Canal as an example) and anything truly ugly will seep under New Colleague's door too. All small, medium and large complex organizations have dynamics...some of which are not entirely uplifting or positive. Balance the obvious scuttlebutt with some measure of your own experience and point of view - what you've enjoyed, liked, or been able to thrive with. Another key thing about mentoring: if the New Colleague is there alone, new to the area, etc, get a feel for what sort of sociability might be desirable (not everyone wants to meet, greet, and hang out a lot). My new colleagues get courted like the dairy princess in the country fair before they arrive, but once they sign the contract they're typically on their own. I live in a pretty cool place but it still can be (and is) lonely for some. At a minimum, make sure New Colleague knows about other mentoring or writing/scholarship groups on your campus; is invited to casual outings; meets people in other departments with like interests; knows about local resources for entertainment, relaxation, and easing into life on your campus. Finally, give New Colleague a heads up about anything relevant to teaching & the immediate adjustment issues - are your students hard on new profs? Are there quirky majors to steer clear of? Do students expect 'A's in general education classes?



• I am in a similar situation. I have been at my university for three years (actually my first job post-PhD) and am mentoring a new person. I think they chose me because they're hoping I can relate to being new. I asked someone what I should tell this person, and they suggested that I tell them what I would want to know. Sounds like good advice. As for me, I'd probably want a mix of all the dirt and a little sugar-coating (for what it's worth).
  


• Expect to be on lots of committees, but understand that all discussion is menial as most decisions are made outside of them without consideration for your ideas. That guy wants to hump you and the other wants to get on your wife. Our students are mostly water heads. Don't spread out in your office too much because there's five other people in it. You'll have to get your own piss pot for said chambers. Instead of a phone you get these two tin cans - the string goes with them. Pick one person in the department you can stand and get to know and trust them. Take everyone for what they think they are. In turn, be prepared to talk about how busy you are and how exciting your research and writing niche is. Get on the sauce quick, get a real life off campus, and guard it with your life.

This Week's Big Thirsty. What Do You Tell A New Colleague?

Q: I was given the frightening task of mentoring someone this year, a brand new t-t asst. proffie in our department. I've only been here three years but love it so far. I know I'm supposed to be a veteran, but I'm sort of stumped on how involved and helpful I should be.

This person's already hired. Should I spill the beans about the bad shit? Should I toot the party line? What do you tell new folks in your department once they're on board?

A: Send replies here.

RYS Hot Links.

• Students and prof study how Olympics shaped China's image. From the Lexington Minuteman.


• Comeback Kid. From the Jackson Citizen Patriot.


• Laundry service? From BG News.


• Bucket List. From the Arizona Wildcat.


• Off-campus life. From Yahoo News.


• Putting that degree to real use. From the Diamondback Online.


• Sleep tight. From WLWT.com.


• Like getting smacked from behind by that trombone player. From Kansas City InfoZine.


• Crossdressing in College. From Annette's Crossdressing Blog. (How did 2 different readers send us this link on the same day?)

"The Gallery."

Allow us to present the fourth entry in the "Where Do You Hide" photo request. We've loved seeing the photos and reading your stories. We have plans to showcase a few more, so please send in a photo (no larger than 720 X 540) along with text, context, etc. You can reach us - as always - here!

Previous "Hideaway" Posts:

Tears Stairs Stream

--

THE GALLERY

I'm lucky to work in a basement. Yes, I said it. I'm in the basement of a building that houses two different art galleries. Nobody knows where I am; I have no need to hide. I go whole semesters without my department chair coming to see me. (I'm not sure she even knows where I am.)

Two years ago when I started teaching at this college, there were no more offices in the "real" building. A nice maintenance man took me around to three alternate sites and showed me offices that I could have if I chose. The first was a closet, and I'm not even kidding.

However, after the first two washed out we walked into a breezy open foyer, past two inviting seminar rooms, and then into one of the art galleries. A party was going on for our senior students, and I felt like an interloper. The maintenance guy, Carl, (aren't they always Carl...and teddy bears?) walked me through the gallery to a small stairway that went down 2 flights. We ended up in a slate and brick hallway that ended at a red door. He opened it and there was my office, my first academic home.

There was a sliver of windows at the place the wall met the ceiling, and it was pleasantly lit from the outside. The office was square and empty and I said, "I like this one."

Every day I go in through the gallery - for which I have my own key - and down the stairs to my office. But I rarely spend too much time there. I usually make my coffee and drag my books and briefcase up to the far end of the gallery. From there I can hear my phone if it rings, and I sit on my own chair inside the gallery and do my work. People move past quietly. Some students recognize me from class and sit with me for a while. And there is art everywhere. And it changes much more frequently than I ever imagined.

It's the most genteel part of my day, and I love this place. Here's a photo from this morning.

Stream This. Dr. D Stirs Up the RYS Faithful. (And Then Some Post-Lunch Reaction to the Reaction!)

This morning we had a flood of mail unhappy about Dr. D's little stream hideaway. We posted a very small sampling of those immediately below. In the aftermath, by which we mean after we finished our huevos rancheros, a few other voice piped up and we wanted to represent some of that flava:

• Oh God in heaven, take down that Dr. D post. If there ever was a case to be made for the snowflake proffie, he's the guy. He sounds way way creepy.


• Choked with foliage, beauty, and arrogance. Is that what Dr. D really means to say? If I were walking those woods and found a college professor sitting on a tree stump with a student (and whistling a "merry" tune), I'd beat him with a tree branch.


• One more stream rule. Don't talk about stream rules.


• Desperate? You're calling other RYS readers desperate? It's a desperate man who hides out by a stream and then orders others not to talk. How on earth do you get any work done with all of that "fine time" you spend at the stream's edge?


• Can't someone go push this asshole into the stream, please?


• We wouldn't be miserable if we were all like you, teaching by a stream at a college "lost in the woods." Do you know what an asshole you sound like? I teach at a college that looks much more like a factory, in a dense urban city, and I don't hide away by a stream. I meet the challenges, deal with the students (in the classroom, NOT ON A TREE STUMP), and don't need to let the day "seep" past me. Get real. You're a fucking ignoramus.

After lunch:

• I've been reading RYS for a year or so now, and the "faithfuls" response to Dr D. is over-the-top. So he takes a stream break to de-stress; what's the big deal. How's that any different than a coffee break, or a smoke break, except that its healthier? I think the responses are due to jealousy, pure and simple.


• I for one loved Dr. D's stream story. I stop on my way home from work every day at a small park. My husband brings our bruising pug (Emily Bowshines) and she and I take a lap around the trees, sniffing for critters, picking up strange rocks. I completely get rid of any work anxiety and make myself a better woman for the cooking of supper and the reading of bedtime stories. Your readers seem awfully judgmental and reactionary. Dr. D's doing the right thing.


• Ugly post this morning. Those folks sound like they had a big "sour grapes" breakfast. Boo to them and "huzzah" for Dr. D who has a cool location to hide. We probably all wish we were so lucky.
  

"Dear Previous Proffie..."

I know you had my students in your class. I know you passed them when they did not deserve it, much like a second grade teacher will pass little Billy even though he can't read because they don't want him setting fires in the garbage can in the classroom anymore.

How do I know? I am so glad you asked! I know only five students in my class can read simple directions and only three of them can form a coherent sentence. Since this is not the obligatory "first" course every student has to take at this fine institution I know that this should not be happening. You failed your job as the gatekeeper. You are supposed to keep these retards out. (Gasp, did you just say what I think you just said?) I have said it before and I will say it again. Not everyone belongs in college. My current class is a prime example of this.

Being what I like to consider a reasonably intelligent adult I can tell the difference between lazy, ignorant, and just plain stupid. The ignorant I can deal with, they just don't know any better - yet. It is the lazy and the stupid I have little time for, as they either cannot or will not learn what I have to teach them. At first I thought that with a little guidance and patience my student's would improve. However with just three passing papers for the first written assignment (on a curve) I am coming to the realization that this just will not happen. When my little darlings randomly put words together in the middle of their paper and expect me to decipher the meaning it becomes glaringly clear that you, my dear previous professor, have put me in this position.

You coddled them, didn't correct their writing ability, and clearly did not enforce plagiarism rules. They believe they are prime examples of stellar academic abilities. Now it is my job to crush their dreams. Thank you, I hope you enjoyed your good performance reviews at the expense of these student's education; because I know my reviews will be going right in the crapper since I am forced to teach them what you did not - accountability!

PS: I am going to find where you live and beat you with their rolled up papers.

A Visit with Dr. D. and His Stream.

Our hideaway series continues. Check earlier posts: Oh the Tears & The Stairs. We continue to welcome your photos and stories about your favorite place to hide away from your job, students, and that creepy damn colleague who's always sticking his big nose in your bizness. Send photos (no larger than 720 X 540) and text, context, etc. to the compound.

--

Oh, I don't know why I'm bothering, because you people seem so damn intent on being miserable all the time.

But here is where I hide away.

It's a 90 second walk from my office building's back door, a pleasant little stream absolutely choked with foliage and beauty. I've rolled an old tree stump to this spot where I took the photo, and whenever the job gets to be too much I go out there, sit on it, whistle a merry tune, and just watch the water flow past.

It's a great place to spend some time, and I've been known to escape there for between 5 minutes to an hour. (I teach at a very liberal liberal arts college in the vague south, and our whole campus is lost in the woods.)

Occasionally students find me, and I always tell them the "stream rules." 1. NO SCHOOL TALK. 2. NO TALK AT ALL.

I've spent some fine time there alone and with students just letting the day seep away. When I go back to my office I'm re-energized. One of my students said to me once, "Dr. D, that's about the coolest thing I've ever done."

So, I know you won't post it, but I wanted to show you that not all faculty members are as desperate as the typical RYS reader. In fact, I'm headed out to the stream right now

RYS Flashback: Two Years Ago Today.

First, profs get no support from anyone sitting five inches beyond the dept. chair. Why? Symposium-hopping, administrative paperweights are willfully ignorant. Too many can spout more pointless powerpoint-assited theory than a grad student attempting to link Teletubbies, patriarchy, and Virginia Woolf’s inflamed bunion, but they refuse to set gouty toe #1 in my classroom. Why? There’s no free buffet.

Number two. The parents cutting checks have no idea what goes on. Here at In-State Tuition U, I’m seen as something between a nose-wiping nanny, performing seal, and a deluded blissed-out Yeats-spouting reject from Dead Poets Society. Where the hell did that concept come from? Hey Mom and Pops, Johnny can’t read because you’ve been busy suckling on the TV remote, confusing Tucker Carlson with Thomas Locke and Oprah with Simone DeBeauvoir for the last 18 years. You get what you deserve. Now tell your kid to get my pizza because “I’m paying for this.”

Number three. Congrats for not drooling in my class. Have a gold star. Please understand that the majority of mouthbreathers surrounding you have no business in a college classroom. Most have no business serving you curly fries in the cafeteria. They confuse Wikipedia with wisdom, textbooks with short-term investments, and pop quizzes with war crimes. RYS exists because no one listens. Our spouses have been harassed enough, our pets are bearing fangs, and our kids wonder if everyone’s dad buries the TV in backyard and dances around the mound naked.

You want advice? Wave bye-bye to your friends and hole up in the library for the next four years. If I mention a book in class, don’t think “Quiz?” Instead, think, “I’m READING that book. Quiz or not.” Pipe up in class! There’s a direct correlation between yappers trying to compensate for an inevitable “D,” and the smart silent ones who dazzle on essays but see no obligation to their classmates. I have an office. Feel free to find me and challenge me in the best possible way. Don’t drift in and out of my classroom and wonder why I don’t know your name.

Finally, turn off the damn computer, there’s nothing in there.

Hideaway Horror. Abe the Adjunct Gets Angsty.

Oh God, I totally recognize the Hideway from yesterday. Well I don't actually recognize it, per se, but I've been in that room plenty of times.

It's adjunct hell. It's truly a "sad, utilitarian" space that serves as the home for part-timers and adjuncts all over the country. It's an accurate representation of how "individual" and special adjuncts are.

A sticker on a chair? A little attempt to make the space one's own. It looks like any killing floor in any slaughterhouse in the world. Simple. Clear of obstruction. Anyone's ass that has an MA can sit in one of those green chairs and do your job, simpleton!

I love the detail of the little vase. Oh yes, there was once a single, stunted flower in there. Beauty brought inside. No doubt it crusted over and sat untended for half a semester until someone brave set it free in the toilet - which we know is right next door.

Ah, the personality just jumps off the photo. Blank walls, empty table. Nothing shows life or a heartbeat. Nothing shows hope.

It's my office, too, and I worry that it always will be. I get paid poorly, treated poorly. I have no recourse when I get a schedule that requires me to teach from 8-9 and then wait till 2:45 for my next class. (I can't afford bus far to and from school twice a day.) I know I have to take it because I'm always reminded about the "adjunct pool," the overflowing reservoir that my department chair plucks me from once a semester.

When I apply for "real" jobs, my future employers see I'm an adjunct. They flash on their own, sad, machine-like, trudging. They picture their adjuncts in "that" office. They pass me by.

That office is all I'm ever going to have.

"The stairs..."

We are still collecting favorite hideaway photos. Our first entry posted yesterday. If you'd like to share a favorite spot on campus where you hide out, please send a photo to the compound (no larger than 720X480, please) with or without accompanying text, context, or explanation.

--

It's just a little bench, wrought iron and wood slats. And it's just inside a mostly-unused door. Today, when I came in from a heavy rain, I sat on it and let myself drip on the slate floor below me.

The building is familiar. I have worked here for a dozen years now, and can't remember ever sitting here before. Those stairs lead up to my office or down to the classrooms. I make that trip a few times a day.

Did I mention I hate my job?

In the mornings I go up, sort through the mess that is my office, stare at a plaster wall where a window once was. I shuffle papers.

I go down the stairs to a classroom full of modest young men and women who think I'm an ogre because I require them to carry a pen and a notebook. They sneer. They scoff. They wonder why they got stuck with such a fuddy-duddy. Their friends are in classes where they do nothing but write about pop culture, tabloids, the Jonas Brothers.

Sitting here now, I look at the stairs and wonder why on earth I use them at all. Don't I have any courage? Don't I have any sense?

The stairs do me no good, and perhaps they should be used by someone else, someone who wants to be here, who hasn't lost hope.

But I have bills and children and a new car, and I don't know how to do anything else. So I sit and wait for the strength to go on.

It's peaceful here, really. I had never noticed it before. I'm going to sit here every day from now on.

Pavel from Provo Means Well.

I see a trend that disturbs me, the buying your diploma / dumbing down of a college degree to be precise. When I was at the U, I never believed I deserved an A unless I met all of the assignment requirements exactly and aced tests.

As a HS teacher, I still assess this way. But I have this delusion that my C students won't be accepted into CLASSY Higher Education Schools. I want my brightest students to go to campuses where the truly bright rub elbows. Everyone else can hack it out at a community college until they mature and then prove they are ready for the big league / ivy leagues.

I can't imagine a medical campus allowing slackers to become Doctors, yet we don't dare hold Mathematicians or English Majors or Phys Ed teachers to some kind of respectable high standard. I agree that HS has parents that hover, drama snowflakes and a hand-holding approach. But that is the nature of working with adolescents.

MAKE them WORK. If you allow them to even enter the system with low GPAs, you will get what you would expect, namely slacker-tude. If you pass them or inflate their grades, you seriously enable them to keep ruling the school. NO WONDER China and India are surpassing the US when it comes to Science and Math. They don't coddle and defend their students as much as we do. If a professor gets a bad review and gets fired, unionize and lock up the system! A proper performance review should not be a He said/She said debate.

Tenure should not allow for the worst behaviors to persist. Profs!!! get organized or become a victim of Walmart/ Educare consumer-driven education. You are adults, be the change you wish to see in the World.

Destined to Be the Carrying Bag of Choice in Fall 2008! New Prodo From the Compound.

The new tote for fall. Buy it here.

Our Favorite Rhetorical Question of the Week. Olive from Olympia Loses the Office Shuffle.

I think they are trying to tell me something, in a passive-aggressive way.

Due to 'renovations' we had to play office shuffle, and though I have no memory of straws, I obviously lost.

The new office is perched on the third floor, conveniently snuggled between the men's room and the ladies, with the water bubbler attached to the outside wall next to the door. There are no windows to distract me, and it is dark and cool and cave-like.

The consistently echoing sound of synchronized flushing successfully creates the illusion that I am huddled under a waterfall....there is even an occasional whiff of 'mountain fresh' disinfectant.

How lucky am I?

"Oh, the tears..."

The first entry in our "where do you hide" photo request.

Oh, the tears that have been wept at this table.

The sad, utilitarian chairs. The empty and sad (and squatty) vase.

The computers right out of 1993 America.

How often have I pressed my cheek to the table top, smelled the leftover muskiness of pencil erasers.

A perfect zen-like afternoon locked in this sterile room, straining, hurting.

Until...

That's "my" chair, someone says, as he enters the room. He points at the strip of tape on the back of the chair. "John," I say out loud. And then I move over one.

Sundeen from Sudbury And Her Specialest of Snowflakes.

Can we talk about my snowflake? A really big important snowflake?

This snowflake thinks I should allow her to take her exams whenever it's convenient for her. For instance, she wants to take her final exam the following week so she doesn't have to take final exams two days in a row. After all, she needs a breather.

Oh, and she'd like to take the midterm after class instead, because it's really hard to get up early in the morning, and she has a long day. Another problem she has is that my course conflicts with another course she's taking, so she's going to miss some of the lectures so she can be in her other class. She actually had the cojones to ask me if my class was hard, because the other class she's taking is very hard so she really doesn't want to take two hard classes! Like I'm really going to say, oh no, my class is really easy, you don't have to work at ALL.

And of course the fact that it says on the syllabus that exam material will come from the text and the lecture isn't enough. I have to tell her that live, in person, face to face when she stops by my office OUTSIDE of my assigned office hours time (and I, admittedly stupidly, opened the door - guess I got what was coming to me, huh.) So after we do all this, she wants to know the exam format, like what kinds of questions are going to be on the exam. Um, questions about the MATERIAL? Yeah, things covered in your textbook and in lecture. The kind where I ask a question and you write down some stuff about what you know, that kind of question.

Oh, oh, and this was priceless: she asked me if it was going to be like a college exam! She did, I swear she did! I looked at her and I know it was all over my face, I couldn't help it, but I asked, "As opposed to what???" What other type of exam would you get in a college course? She said, "Well, I'm just looking for some direction as to what to study, because (okay, wait for it - here it comes) I'm not very good at remembering things."

All I could think was, Oh sweetie, what are you doing here?

The Continuing Adventures of Pedro the Proctor!

A new installment from an old friend:

It’s the end of spring term and time for everyone's favorite ritual: the sitting of the final exam in the cavernous athletics complex. This is a third year course so I make the naïve assumption that everyone is familiar with the drill...

As the students are settling into their seats, we wander around the room ensuring that no lingering iPod ear buds are still streaming music into student's heads and that cell phones are turned silent and stowed in backpacks. One young lad has his cell phone on his desk so I kindly ask him to put it in his bag. "I don't have a watch so this is how I keep track of time" referring to the LCD clock on the outside of the phone. On the wall ahead of him is a gigantic athletics complex clock, must be two feet in diameter. I point to the clock, "There's a clock on the wall." "Too much reflection from the lights; I can't see it. I'll put away the phone if you'll come by every 15 minutes and tell me the time." My suspicion is that Millennial-Boy doesn't actually know how to tell time with an analog device or he missed the whole Big- Hand/Little-Hand class in Kindergarten. Time to move onto the next snowflake two rows over...

"I don't have my university ID card with me." "No problem, do you have some other picture ID, like a driver's license?" "No. The only thing I have is a VISA receipt that has my name at the bottom." For three years you have been showing up at midterm and final exams. For three years proctors have been asking for your ID. Do you not carry a wallet? Worst case scenario if you drown in the creek that runs through campus then I guess the police could ID you from the VISA receipt...

We told the class in advance that we'd be using Scantron bubble cards, yet we still have people showing up without pencils. Luckily we have a few golf score-card pencils to pass out. I'm sure the next request is going to be for erasers since the pencils have none.

The exam finally starts and I wander around with the other proctors. One girl has five rolls of Rocket candies and a huge bag of pretzels to carry her through the 2 1/2 hour exam. Two seats up Bladder Buddy has a large coffee, a 1.5 liter bottle of water, five granola bars and a box of Smarties candies. 1500 ml of water / 150 minutes of exam time, that's just under 1/2 and oz. per minute. Maybe this guy is a star at "Century Club" - the old beer drinking game of 100 oz of beer in 100 minutes. Between the candy, food, and water if the athletics complex collapses today, no one will perish before the authorities dig us out. He also has 5 sharpened pencils, a pencil sharpener, two mechanical pencils PLUS a package of 5 disposable mechanical pencils that he has just opened on his desk. If we run out of golf card pencils, Buddy can spot us a few from his personal stock.

A hand goes up in the back, I wander over. "I'd like to get a drink." "So would I," I think to myself momentarily, before I get back to the needy student at hand. This being the athletics complex, our exam writing space is blessed with not one but two cooler-style water fountains. "There is a water fountain at the front of the room." "No, I need something from a vending machine." "But we have water right here in the room." "I didn't eat today and I've got really low blood sugar. Everything is fuzzy; it’s hard to concentrate. I'm sure I saw a vending machine on the way in." Escort the student through the doors at the front of the room. Nope, no vending machines. Wander out the other exit doors at the other end of the room. Again no vending machines. After all that the student sits down to resume her exam without any added nutrients. I'm guessing the low blood sugar has induced vending machine hallucinations. A more benevolent prof would have nicked some Rocket candies for this young lady.

45 minutes into the exam, Bladder Buddy's hand goes up. The double whammy of the coffee's diuretic effects and the shear volume of bottled water are taking their toll. He gets an escorted trip to the loo. Almost exactly 45 minutes later, hand goes up again. Another trip to the water closet. It’s been the other proctors dealing with him thus far. His body is near saturation - after 30 minutes now his hand goes up. "I need to go pee," comes his plea. "You've already been TWICE! It’s your own fault for drinking this much water." I say as I point to the half-way mark on the big ol' water bottle. "But I really have to go." I tell him there is only 1/2 an hour left, cross your legs and hope for the best. As I walk away, I think to myself "Learn to control your urethral sphincter Grasshopper; these lessons will serve you well later in life when the ol' prostate starts to go." No one faints, explodes, ends up with permanent eye strain from squinting at a badly lit clock or is found face down in a creek clutching a VISA receipt so I figure it was a good exam in the end.

Where Do You Hide? The First RYS Photo Request.

One of the newer moderators - who's a real pain in the ass - has been bugging us about this since last semester. He - isn't it always a "he"? - thought we should post a gallery of photos from our readers every once in a while. Not the "ass photos" that Wicked Walter suggested last year, but just some shots of various parts of our academic worlds.

We've finally given in. It may be a colossal waste of time - because everything else we do is so amazingly essential - but let us push forward.

Please submit to us a photo of a place on your campus where you hide - from students, from colleagues, from your dimwitted friends, from your nagging spouse, from the tax man, from whomever. (Is that right? Is it "whoever"? We used to have an English prof at the compound, but she's long gone.)

You may submit to our regular address, and attach any photos you'd like us to consider. Please keep the size below 720 X 480 if you don't mind. Also, you know of course that we will "modify" the photo with the various RYS filters. We might even put the word "poopie" on some, or maybe superimpose a big head or a glass of booze. We won't disrupt the essential "essentialness" of your photo, but we do want it to fit the mood of the place, the tenor, the taste, the je ne sais quois of all that we are.

You can provide a brief note about what the photo shows, or just give us a fabulous made up name for the photo credit. Forced anonymity is the norm, of course, so don't send us a photo of your Dean asleep on a bench.

Thanks. You should go click some photos now and send them here.

Prodo Reminder.

It's been eons since we pitched the RYS Prodo, but you can check it out at our Cafe Press storefront. All Prodo profits go to the American Red Cross.

We're most proud of the "No Snowflakes Allowed" boxers, but there are 7 other items available, everything from our famous "it's not a handbag, it's a tote," to our delicious hoodie.

Three Quickies On Buses. Including the Story of Speedbump Sally.

• Our colleague with the shuttle bus problem got me thinking about my first shuttle bus experience from last year. Our college was in a financial crisis and the parking prices went through the roof. Many of us younger faculty took advantage of the very inexpensive "shuttle pass." The first day we parked in the remote lot we were horrified when a dingy "Ramada Hotel" bus arrived for us. It was in terrible shape, though the driver in those first weeks was a decent fellow. The bus remained emblazoned with the Ramada Hotel signage for a few weeks, but then one day in October the bus arrived with a new sign and driver. Ramada had been crudely painted over with some kind of white primer, and the words "CAMPUS SUTTLE" had been stenciled in with flat black paint. Worse than that, our driver was a young woman who clearly thought that time was of the essence. She raced that bus in and around campus in unchecked glee, swiping curbs, forcing pedestrians back onto sidewalks, and hurling us all over the campus speedbumps like she was trying to jump a line of barrels. It got the heart going, I must say. But by November we'd all stopped the experiment. One of us with a minivan started shuttling us in herself, and we never had to ride with Speedbump Sally again.
  


• Beat admin at their own game. If it was me, I would register for a class, get whatever f'ing parking pass students have and then flaunt it all semester. Drop the class at the last possible minute and keep the preferred parking. I did exactly that a few years ago.
  


• This is a college that is about to find out what it's like not to have a single adjunct sign up to teach. As it is, I skid into the parking place(for faculty, of course), and take the stairs two at a time to get to class comfortably 5-10 minutes (o luxury) before the hordes. No way in hell would any of the other adjuncts I know put up with that ridiculously named"Students First" policy--most ESPECIALLY if the board has their own parking places. WTF!

RYS Crime Beat.

• Porn proffie re-arrested. From MyWestTexas.com.
• Luring proffie arrested. From NJ.com.
• Adjunct arrested for sex abuse. From WKBW.com.
• Student seeking better grade arrested. From AJC.com.
• How much protection does a chiro student need? From Quad City Times.
• Texas student missing for months found living in Bay area. From KWTX.com
• Aussie peeper arrested. From Gizmodo.com.
• Bomb-making soon-to-be freshmen ALSO stole a pair of sunglasses. From WNWO.com.

Moon Shot. This Blog Used to Be Crack Free. No Longer.

A proffie (Bill Shanahan) from Fort Hays State in Kansas is currently under investigation concerning his actions at the 2008 Cross Examination Debate Association (CEDA) national competition in Atlanta.

He and U of Pitt proffie Shanara Reid-Brinkley got into a profanity-filled screaming match during which Shanahan bullied Reid-Brinkley and another prof, and pulled his pants down to her and the crowd.

It's a nearly unbelievable piece of video.

The incident came to light after the video ended up on YouTube in early August.

More:

• Chronicle article.
• Inside Higher Ed article.

Arkansas Arnold "Takes the Coward's Way Out." More on "Students First."

I love the naivete of some professors. The "Students First" writer is just now coming to terms with what many of us have known for quite a while.

I'm a "proffie" in the humanities, and for the past ten years my field has been glutted by new PhDs, serious and dour youngsters who eye me and my tenured spot like I was a juicy slice of hummus on a big range-free piece of Armenian cracker bread.

My bosses know these kids are out there, and slowly they've pulled every perk out of my life, library space, parking space, office space, budgets, hiring, what have you. Corporatization is the rule, and everything from textbook selection to where and how we teach our classes has been taken over by administrators. And everything is done to make sure the students won't be bothered, won't complain, and won't take their tuition and FTE down the road to Somewhere Else College.

Ombudsmen for the students, better food, more luxury if possible. We even give out MP3 players for lectures that students are too drunk to attend. How much you want to bet they don't listen to them anyway...two times we've been disrespected and the students get a toy out of it...HUZZAH!

When faculty complain - and they did, at first - the Deans and Provosts stand firm because it's oh so pleasant and easy to replace a $65k tenured prof with a $34k assistant prof - or better yet, one of those sweet $25k VAPs!!! Won't the trustees slobber over that kind of math. One of our true stars said she wouldn't take it, left, and then had to settle for a lousy job at another college. She hadn't kept pace with the notion that her options have dwindled in the last several years.

I'm long enough entrenched to know that I'm not willing to stand up to the bullshit that I'm being forced to eat. I've got about 5 good years in the classroom, some TIAA-CREF payments to make, and a granddaughter exactly 15 days away from her freshman first day at my college. I'm going to let the administration run stuff the way they want, and I'm going to take the coward's way out.

I'm glad it's not going to be my problem for much longer, and I don't know how anyone new to the profession can stomach it.

A dean came to my office last semester for an "impromptu" and "candid" chat. He brought a photographer, too. "How are things for you....uh....Arnold?" And I flashed on the brilliant chance I had to say, "Well, you've fucked us...uh...Dean. What about that?" But I hid my head in the sand instead.

Where We Acknowledge that Summer Is Really Over, And That We All Must Go Back to Work. RYS Roundup.

We spent so little time on the compound this summer that we're not really sure what's gone on. Various cabana boys and girls manned the machinery, so a lot of these links are new to us, too. But, from what we can tell, the links below were the best of summer '08. Please to enjoy.

Oh, and catch up quick, okay, because we're fully ramped up for fall and waiting for your new pain.

Hottest Summer Shit:

• Password Incorrect.
• Job Seeker Jerry.
• Rec Letter Template.
• Not for Everyone.
• Ugly Tommy.
• Consumerism.
• Who the Fuck is Julia Allison?
• Stinkin' Textbooks.

Zounds. Found Out Again. (We Get This Letter About Once a Week.)

I’ve gathered ample evidence from your site to confirm that RYS is actually run by my school’s administration.

You post fake letters describing horrible working conditions at supposedly typical universities. Why? To make me and my colleagues feel better about working at my pretty good but not great university. After reading a year’s worth of RYS posts, I’m led to believe that every other school is awful and I should be happy where I am.

Your evil scheme worked for a while but no more! I’m on to you.

Working diligently to reveal your true nefarious purpose

and with warmest regards,

Stephen From Sacramento

What's the Problem? Those Shuttle Buses Always Smell So Good, And There's No Smoother Ride. Those Drivers, Too. Their Training Is Extensive.

This fall I am being "asked" to park off campus as part of a "Students First" campaign. The school is building a new parking structure, which will remove 10-15% of the parking slots for fall AND spring. The students will be allowed to park on campus. The faculty must drive an additional 15-20 minutes to an off-site parking area and be SHUTTLED INTO campus like prisoners. Or, we can take public transit - with no allowances for the cost or time either mode will take us.

If you opt to take the shuttle, you will add approximately 45 minutes to your commute either way (for driving, parking, waiting for the shuttle and shuttle ride). I live 5 miles from campus, the only way to get to class using our inefficient public transit is going to add over an hour each way to my commute. I could bike, if I wanted to brave freeways, but I actually don't feel safe on the freeway with a bike.

We are expected to just take this on the chin, with no compensation for time, frustration, gas cost, etc. Mind you, the board still parks on site. And, if we are late for our classes due to shuttle issues we are supposed to find a way to "make it work" by adding extra assignments to the class or expanding our office hours.

Modern College (cont.) - "Mistakes Have Been Made."

I can't say I'm on board with everything the "Modern College" proffie wrote yesterday - you're against lockable offices and are unhappy to have a new building? - but I do share his nostalgia about what I thought "college" was going to be like.

I grew up in a small town about 100 miles from the nearest college. My pop occasionally took us there so he could use the library - he was an amateur (and sometimes very explosive) inventor. As a boy, I'd walk that campus and marvel at the place, all greenswards and Roman columns. The students looked like young happy adults, laughing and studious all at the same time. The professors eased out of buildings in the cliched uniforms of the day.

And by the time I was in the 10th grade I knew I'd be a professor some day. My romantic notions for the profession were high, and as with many things, they soon faded.

What my life is like now, of course, is nothing like what I'd imagined. It's meetings and fights over textbooks, and so little about the actual opportunity to teach and help students find their ways. I go weeks sometimes where I might as well be a coal miner, just trudging along, doing the dirtiest work I can imagine, keeping my head down, and longing for 2 pm on Friday when I can get in my car and go home.

It's been 15 years of this now, and I've long since forgotten the bucolic and pleasant campus of my youth. I teach at a giant state university which rises out of metal and concrete and does indeed look more like a shopping center than anything else.

It's a job I have to pay the bills. It's something that I got instead of what I thought was the life of a professor, and now I feel I've done it for too long to get out. And I look at my younger colleagues and their romantic notions get dashed as well, usually in that first semester as a visiting assistant professor. They come in happy and leave disgusted.

If this is what the modern college is like elsewhere, then mistakes have been made somewhere.

It's Our Experience that When Someone Thinks Someone ELSE is a "Wingnut," Well, We're Just Saying. Modern College (cont.)

What do your readers smoke? Really. And can I get some?

The wingnut from yesterday made me smile. Of course he's right, the modern college does not resemble at all the institution I thought I'd be joining all those years ago when I was in grad school.

But have you looked outside lately? I'm glad to have keys and locks and terror training. I wish they let me carry pepper spray to class, and I wish I could teach my cretins from behind a glass partition, just like some Cleveland Motel 6 night manager. (Don't judge. I did that when I was a lowly serf.)

Oh, and your sweet Georgian building, with the rats and the asbestos, please. You should be so lucky that you have a college that has replaced that ugly pile of rubbish with something new, something with more electrical outlets and fewer toxic chemicals.

I guess his fear is that the world has changed. Yes, Lindsay Lohan used to be a cute little freckled-face girl whose biggest concern was that kid at camp who looked JUST LIKE HER. Now, though, we're all grown up. (Oooh, and I like that little boy she's dating now, Sammy Ronson...he's a sweetheart.)

Anyway, tell modern college wingnut to put his feet up and show Dead Poet's Society on a nice flat screen in that new building his college gave him ... and to shut up.

Make way for the new world.

Argh! Couldn't They Have Just Made Her Walk the Plank? (We're Sorry. That's so Freaking Easy...But We Have a Toothache.)

Student kicked off ship in Greece for plagiarism
U.Va. single-sanction honor code in force for Semester at Sea

By KARIN KAPSIDELIS
Richmond Times Dispatch

An Ohio University student was ejected from the Semester at Sea program this week, put ashore in Greece for violating the University of Virginia's single-sanction honor code. Allison Routman says she was expelled from the U.Va.-sponsored program for plagiarism because of three factual sentence fragments and a paraphrased summary of a movie she looked up on Wikipedia.

Routman, a 21-year-old senior, arrived at her home in Minneapolis yesterday. She said she had no idea she had done anything wrong until she was accused of plagiarism.

"I had no clue," she said.

Her father, Brent, has complained about her treatment to the U.Va. Board of Visitors, arguing that the "death penalty" expulsion for academic dishonesty lacks the safeguards that would be in place for students on the U.Va. campus. U.Va. is the academic partner with the Institute for Shipboard Education for the Semester at Sea program, which operates three voyages a year aboard a passenger ship. U.Va. spokeswoman Carol Wood says the students who take part in the program are well-informed about requirements of the honor code. An honor-code representative conducts an all-hands meeting about the system for students during the first week.

"We understand that not all students live under this at their home universities," she said. But students who take part in the program are held to the same standards as U.Va. students because they are receiving academic credit from the university, she said.

Routman was nearing the end of the summer voyage when she was accused of plagiarism. Her class had been assigned to watch a movie and write a paper comparing it with personal experiences from the voyage. She chose "Europa Europa," a film about the Holocaust, and related it to her experience growing up Jewish. She said she watched the movie but looked up the synopsis on Wikipedia to make sure she used the right historical terminology.

The day before the papers were returned, she said, the professor told the class there were some suspected cases of plagiarism and asked students to come forward and make a "conscientious retraction."

"Had I had any idea I had done something wrong, I would have absolutely come forward," she said.

Several students did, however, and were not expelled, she said. But she and another student were ordered off the ship. She said she did not realize she was in trouble until she was called in by the program's registrar, Laurie Casteen. Casteen, daughter-in-law of U.Va. President John Casteen, is the university's assistant to the vice president for student affairs. As registrar, it was her role to determine whether Routman would be formally accused after the allegation was made by the professor.

Jess Huang, chairman of the student-run honor committee at U.Va., said different procedures were set up for investigating violations in the Semester At Sea program. Those procedural changes were made by the committee with legal consultation because not enough U.Va. students with honor-code training are generally on board the ship, she said. On campus, students would handle the investigation and trial and act as adviser for the accused, she said, but "on the ship we don't have those resources."

While the procedures might differ, "the spirit and philosophy" to uphold the integrity of U.Va.'s standards is the same, she said. But Routman questions whether her case warranted investigation under the code's criteria, which include dishonest intent and non-triviality.
She said she had been taught to rephrase to avoid plagiarism and that was what she did. The three sentence fragments she quoted verbatim, she said, were factual. The program administrators at first wanted to set her ashore in Egypt, the next port call, she said. But her parents raised safety concerns because she is Jewish, and she was allowed to stay on the ship until it reached Greece.

Routman said she and the other expelled student were put in a cab at the port of Piraeus in Greece and arrived at the Athens airport about 7 p.m. Wednesday. They spent most of the night in the airport awaiting their flights home.

From the Richmond Times Dispatch

The Modern College.

Gave up my fingerprints this morning at my bullshit college. Some rough woman with a 50s beehive twisted my hand so hard I thought I might be going to the pokey.

Last year had to sign a document that said I would defend the constitution of the US against enemies.

I have 3 keys and one key card to access my building.

What gives?

I took training sessions last year for: "How to handle toxic materials," "How to recognize sexual harassment," and "How to recognize and report possible terror activities."

Oh, and a year ago they tore down a beautiful Georgian building where my office used to be, and built a shopping mall replica in its place.

Did any of you think college was going to be like this?

Three Readers Weigh In On the Fired Math Proffie.

My heart goes out to the proffie who was fired. But let's get real, proffie didn't get fired because of the complaints of one snot-faced snowflake.

After all, if proffie was good enough to teach the course for several years on an adjunct basis (despite previous student complaints), proffie was good enough to teach it on a permanent contract. What got proffie fired was a basic lack of job security -- the denial of this basic human right. Proffie got fired because the college and the state don't see job security for faculty as an important aspect of labour rights and the educational experience. Proffie got fired because there is no strong union representing contract faculty at the college. Proffie got fired because we're in a messed up system where, increasingly, profitability comes before pedagogy.

In sum, proffie got fired because of the failure of the system, not one snotty student's complaint. The problem is turning education into another arm of capitalist industry where costs are being cut by throwing academic workers throw revolving doors.

Academic workers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your chain-smoking boozy nights of regret.

--

Based on the account of the adjunct math instructor who got fired based on the complaints of one student, it seems to me like the complaints of one student were less the cause of dismissal than a pretext for it.

As much as the instructor loves his (or her) job, I suspect the college sees adjunct instructors in developmental math as interchangeable. Maybe they found someone willing to teach the same courses for a cheaper rate, and decided that one noisy student was justification enough to make the switch.

"Pointedly ignoring" evidence of good teaching says to me that either they were looking for an excuse to get rid of this person or just didn't care enough to go to bat for them.

Either way, it sounds like their dream was on pretty shaky ground to start.

--

What you are feeling now is like that first broken heart that you are CERTAIN you will never recover from but you do. This too will pass and if your dream is really to teach, as mine was, then you will persevere and find a place that appreciates you and your abilities, just as I did. Here’s my story. Maybe it will give you hope.

I am a female minority who was lucky enough to be born into a family who, despite being short on resources, made education a very high priority. (Most of us went to a prestigious university because my mom, who could not afford the tuition for her gaggle of children, was smart enough to get a job there.) As soon as I completed my B.A. and was beginning my M.Ed., I started teaching general education course at an allied health college in the Midwest. The instructors were all overworked, underpaid, and rarely had time for lunch because the 30 minutes between the a.m. and p.m. sessions were usually spent talking with students or grading papers. (Forget Atkins; try the New Teacher’s Diet!) Despite this, most of us tried hard and genuinely cared about these ‘kids’ who were almost exclusively minority women, who had taken out huge government loans with the promise of a stable job with great financial rewards at the end of two years. (The truth was that they could have earned the same credentials at a community college for a fraction of the price and had credits that would actually apply to a 4-year degree if they chose to get one later, but that’s another post.)

On one particular day when most of the women were slacking for a variety of reasons, I gave them “Mom Lecture 47,” which is, “You are too smart and too talented to act this way, and you know that you have to work twice as hard to prove yourself because you are minority women, so shape up!” Well, this is no big news to minority women. We know that we have to work twice as hard to prove our worth. Our mothers have told us all our lives and society has shown us. A white woman teacher (Before anyone takes offense, know that I’m bi-racial. My mother is white; my father is not.) who was invited to be in my class that day thought it her duty to do “damage control” and report me to the administration, who “counseled me out of a job.” I was devastated, not so much because I lost my job (although that sucked too) but because I REALLY cared about these women, and treated them the way I would treat my own kids, which is to tell them they could be whatever they wanted, but that they had to grow up and earn it. The abridged version of the rest of the story is that the students were outraged, demanded that I be reinstated, sent me tons of supportive e-mails, but the decision stood. I was gone that day, never to return. The students lost a teacher who genuinely wanted to help them end the cycle of poverty and ignorance that many of them were trapped in and wanted desperately to rise above. All they needed was a hand-up, and I wanted to be the one to give it to them.

Fast-forward: I completed my doctorate and ended up in a decent-sized, doctoral institution, where I am “living the dream.” You will also end up where you are supposed to, and someday you will see that the “administrative prat” did you a favor. Here’s your thought for the day: Illegitimi non carborundum.

It's Our Dream, Actually, To Study this "Creative Self-Acualization" We Always Hear About. It Sounds Like Flat-Out Trippin'.

Last semester, I had one of the most snowy of snowflakes. He was constantly late -- to the classes he actually DID show up to. He would turn in blank quizzes, or quizzes with huge, very artistically-drawn question marks -- if he turned them in at all. He would turn in arcane scribblings he pulled out of his ass, rather than the specifically-delineated papers assigned. He was a monumental, frustrating pain in the ass.

At the end of the semester, I totted up his grade:

• He had missed 16 out of 28 classes (over 50%).
• He had flubbed 9 of 11 quizzes.
• He had not turned in 6 (of 10) papers.

I gave him the "F" he earned, and moved on. Imagine my surprise, then, to receive a letter from one Dewey Fleecem, PsyD, explaining that I needed to reconsider my grading process and procedure, because receiving an "F" was "emotionally damaging" to his client. To make "self-esteem reparation," I needed to raise his grade to at least a "C."

His client, you see, would be forever scarred by the trauma of realizing that I did not recognize his "creative self-actualization." It's important that professors recognize and nurture our students, to produce "emotionally rounded" students.

What the fuck, over?

Some Links for a Hot Friday.

some recent articles folks have sent us:

• Student Interruptions. From A Polar Bear Swimming.
• Cash Cow Colleges. From American Daily.
• On Class Size. From InsideHigherEd.
• Best Campus Food. From UPI.com.
• A Call to "Leave Them Kids Alone." From Daily Utah Chronicle.
• Does Your Browser Know You're a Boy? From Mike On Ads and Bitch Ph.D.
• Why on earth did he give himself a B? From the Chronicle.
• Harder than it Looks. From the Chronicle.
• Who owns your syllabus? From the Chronicle.

and one academic blog we can't stop reading:

• Cats and a Fake Boyfriend. From Dr. Crazzy.

The Latest Entry Into the "Why Do You Post Students On This Site?" And The Answer Is, "Because They Taste So Good."

My friend showed me this blog and I think it's really funny. Here is a snowflake teacher story. Almost all of my professors have been great, this one guy is the only one I ever didn't like. I just needed somewhere to rant, because I'm about to start another semester with a class and a lab he teaches. Since ya'll are on the subject of "snowflakes", I would just like to point out that there are actually snowflake teachers. I don't care if ya'll rip me to shreds over this, just read the damn story and then think about what you would do to this guy is he was a student in your class.

I am in a very specific engineering major. We have a small department and this guy (let's call him Dr. Z) teaches a couple of classes in it, so there is no way getting around him. I could rant on about him for about 3 pages, (including the time the department head asked the students not to mention Dr. Z to the accreditation committee), but instead I'll concentrate on one story that occurred at the end of the last semester.

My grandfather passed away the week before finals last spring. (Yes, he really did die; I'll send you the fucking obituary if you don't believe me.) I missed the last class test and lab final for Dr. Z's class for his funeral (Monday...The last class test and lab final were on the same day). I promptly made up the class test after the next class period (on Wednesday). I asked Dr. Z when he would like me to make up the lab final, and we agreed to meet at 2pm the next day (Thursday). When I went to his office at 2pm, he told me he was busy and to come back same time tomorrow (Friday). I did, again he told me he was busy, and to show up in his office at 10 am Monday. When I showed up at 10am Monday, and waited around for an hour or so, he never showed up. That afternoon he told me that he forgot, and again said he would contact me about another make-up time. By this time its finals week, and I'm supposed to start an internship in another state the following week. He never contacted me, despite several emails and notes taped to his door (he got rid of his office phone, don't ask).

On Thursday afternoon, he tells me that I have not yet made up my lab test and demanded to know why. I really wanted to stab him with my pencil, but I refrained. He told me to show up at 10 am Friday. I explained to him that I had been trying to take this test for over a week, and that I was MOVING TO ANOTHER STATE on Friday. He basically said, too bad, and that I'd get an F. So I asked if I could possibly take it earlier, around 8, so I could leave in time to move several hundred miles away? He said no, that I had to take it at 10am or later. So I show up at 10am, wait around for an hour, he doesn't show up, and I start to panic. I have to leave to start the internship, and I didn't want to get an F in the class. He shows up at 11:30, an hour and a half late, just as I was about to email the department head and try to explain the situation. I take the test, leave, and get an A in the lab.

He treats all of his students and colleagues like this (all of our other teachers hate him...quite publicly...). And I still have 2 more classes and a lab with him. Oh and as a last note...you want to bitch about students being late for class? Us students started playing this game where we totaled up the amount of time Dr. Z was late to class, and converted it into equivalent class periods. Because he routinely shows up 15 to 20 minutes late for class, last spring semester we calculated that he missed the equivalent of 5 class periods in lateness-time.

Anson Acrostic from Akron Goes Old School.

I lost 24 hours after checking my rating on that other site yesterday. Thank you Ivan for bitch slapping me back into reality. I’ve got work to do so let’s just cut the chase and get this game on:

B – I’m sorry all your ass kissing didn’t get you the mark you wanted. I’m also sorry you’re sixty and still working on your first degree. But the only thing I’m confused about is your misplaced energy, which keeps you up late writing me emails and complaining and doing everything except the fucking course work.

L – You don’t like the way I talk? I’m from another country you idiot. The world is much larger than this shit-hole fish-bowl you regard as civilization. Try again.

O – Thanks for the chili, but please put away your breasts and g-string. This may get you VIP status with the Greeks, but it will not get you into second year. I may need to make a new course policy for this shit.

W – I’m not an understanding professor? Guess what asshole, you got two extensions and still managed to hand in less than half of the term assignment. I have three kids, a girlfriend and an ex-wife, two car payments, a million dollars in student loans, my own deadlines, and all manner of administrative bullshit to look after in addition to wiping your ass. I think I understand.

M – I feel threatened by you? Yes, your intimidating intellectual prowess and tremendous life experience as a freshmen is overwhelming for me. I’m awake all night with this inferiority complex after being in the same room with you. I get night terrors over it. Bitch, please.

E – You make it sound like my sarcasm is a bad thing. If you don’t like it, how about fuck off and take this same course with Professor Pocket Protector. Don’t be such a pathetic victim.

Welcome back, RYS. You're right on time.

Where We Continue Our Study of the Species.

Smarty Snowflake - These 4.0 pre-med/pre-law student are anxious rather than pushy. They are mostly polite young people who have been driven to uncivil behavior by competition for spots in the professional program of their choice and by their parents'--and their own--high standards. An A- will cause a full-scale panic attack. Equipment advisory: soothing music, herbal tea, empathy, zen-like ability to wait it out.

Sweaty Snowflake - Athlete Snowflakes are similar to Smarty Snows, but at a lower academic level. Sweaty needs to get a C, sometimes a D, in your course to maintain team eligibility or a scholarship. The Sweaty Needs-an-A subspecies must get an A in your course to compensate for Fs in other courses. Desperation can make them whiny, but nowhere near the level their coaches can achieve. Equipment advisory: crystal-clear syllabus, email reminders, steely gaze or frosty email tone, documentation.

Precious Snowflake - Mommy's and Daddy's Child Who Could Do No Wrong grew up and went to college. Precious is special, with easily hurt feelings, intellectual potential that can be unlocked only by the most telepathic teacher, and a heaping helping of attitude. Often has natural dramatic talent. Precious is attended by a helicopter parent whose role in life is to defend Precious against the melting powers of the cruel world. Be prepared for frowns, smiles, rolled eyes, sighs, and flouncing out of rooms when things are going well--and an email from your dean when they are not. Equipment advisory: Ability to keep a straight face, direct gaze, time, steady nerves, elephant skin.

Super-dense Iceflake - Throughout the semester, this negotiator will pester you with long, detailed arguments about quiz questions that are worth one-half of 1% of the course grade. Telling them directly that they need to choose their battles will result in a blank stare and a re-set of the quiz argument to its starting point. Equipment advisory: Slow, steady explanation of basic math and social skills. Repeat. Repeat.

Emotional Snowflake - Emo has issues that are small and special, like exquisite jewels, and are very, very deeply felt. Emo wants to meet with you, but it's never a good time. If pressed, Emo will write you a long single-spaced letter or an email full of run-on sentences detailing the struggles. This student may shape up after this ritual, but may stay home and submit a paper written for a different course. A few will become your new grateful shadows. Equipment advisory: Tissues, patience, half-listening skills, boundaries.

The High Cost of One Student's Complaints. One Proffie's Experience.

I, like most people posting on RYS, love teaching. Of course, I simply mean the act of teaching. I do not really care for the administrative nonsense or dealing with troublesome students, but usually my good students help ease the pain. I've been working at a community college for several years teaching developmental mathematics (this is the basic math that is essentially junior-high and high-school level), and I've always emphasized personal responsibility in my classes. Each semester on the first day of class, I would end the period with a "warning" of sorts: I would tell them that their grade in my class is all dependent on the effort that they put into studying, reviewing, doing assignments on time, and the usual list of student responsibilities. Now, as an adjunct I was subjected to class reviews, which was a simple and relatively standard process where an administrative individual would visit the class and make observations of my lecture style, student interaction, and so on. For my first couple of reviews, there were little issues that I needed to work on (such as talking too fast), but after a couple of these little tweaks, my reviews were spotless (naturally, I took their remarks constructively and worked on my faults diligently). Now, despite the fact that my reviews were consistently good at this point, the occasional student would still venture down to the math department to make some gripe about the way I dress, the way I talk, the number of questions on my tests, or the amount of time in a class period. Usually the administration would simply brush most of the comments off, since they were obviously spawned from the frustrated student's minds. When I asked what I could do to help the students stop stressing out or complaining, I was usually given some little useless "teacher trick" which I naturally tried to implement in my classes (to no avail). Of course, since the administration was so calm and carefree about the students remarks and complaints, I simply tried their advice and left it at that. As a final side-note for background information, all of the professors are required to turn in their grades to the department for statistics and such.

Fast-forward to the summer semester, 2008. This semester was a rough one, as I had very small classes composed almost entirely of disgruntled students. I did my best throughout the semester. I always kept a very friendly attitude around the students, I always did my very best to address their concerns and I always treated them with respect regardless of how they treated me. After finally reaching the end of the semester and submitting my grades the the almighty department, I began preparations for the next semester (I had already been assigned two classes for the fall). It was at this point that I got the email...

The man in charge of the developmental math classes (and my direct supervisor: the one who had given me all of the classroom evaluations) sent me an email requesting that I meet with him to discuss the summer's classes. I had similar meetings with him in the past, and it was usually a simple, 15-minute meeting where we just talked about ways to make the discipline better. I walked into his office that morning completely unaware what was waiting for me. He sat me down, and began his rant.

He told me how students were complaining about me in almost every thinkable way (and saying "students" is misleading, since it was mainly one student that he had told me previously to simply ignore when he was making negative comments). He told me that one student was coming to the office frequently saying that I would skip class, come to class late, and leave early on a daily basis. These were, of course, lies. Not only did I never skip class, show up late, or leave early, but I would frequently give extra sessions of assistance with many of my students in one of the computer lab (off the clock, doing this on my own time simply out of care for the students). I told the administrative prat that I would never be so negligent in my duties, and that the student was simply frustrated. I reminded him that this was the student who I was told to basically ignore...and Mr. administration pointedly ignored that little fact. He went on to tell me that this was a serious concern...and he then told me that my passing rates were too low for his tastes. Again, I reminded him that his evaluations of my techniques and procedures in class were all exemplary, and again, he ignored me. He continued on, saying that there were many adjuncts who were applying to teach the same classes that I was teaching, and they had specifically requested the times which I had been given. He continued to say that he would be speaking with the dean of our department about my performance, and he would get back to me.

I have yet to hear back from him, but he has already had my classes removed and I have been fired from my position...I was given no warning, and I thought that everything was perfectly fine before that day. I was taught an important lesson, and that is the fact that students now run the colleges. If we had any doubts before, we can be sure now. They run the college because they are paying the college for their degree, and as paying customers the college cannot afford to have any of them fail. After all, if a student fails they probably won't come back and pay for another semester. I had foolishly thought that colleges still had a long way to go before we reached this point. This is a very sad time for me...I loved teaching, and I loved trying to improve upon the deteriorating education system. I loved the academic environment, with brilliant professors from every field all around me. I've had that taken away from me. I had thought that I would spend the rest of my life happily teaching college classes...but that's no longer an option. The time has come where student and administrative corruption is so great that we cannot act as effective communicators and professors while still maintaining some sense of academic integrity.

I've had to give up a dream today...and all because a student complained.

We've Got Lists!

This morning on MSN.com, they provided a companion article to the Princeton Review's recent listings of colleges. We've grabbed some code and provided you an easy way to access some of the most interesting information below. Please to enjoy:

For serious readers:

• Top Ten Most Politically Liberal Colleges.
• Top Ten Most Politically Conservative Colleges.
• Top Ten Most Socially Liberal Colleges.
• Top Ten Most Socially Conservative Colleges.

For our typical readers:

• Top Ten Party Schools.
• Top Ten Schools Where Students Rarely Study.
• Top Ten Schools With the Least Happy Students. (Let it be mine!)

A groovy map function showing top schools for value, beauty, etc.

• Mibazzar

My Student. My Celebrity.

I don't want to stir up any more trouble for you with the "Julia Allison" crowd, but your piece last week really got me thinking. (My hubby is a geeky Wired reader, too, and after your post I read the offending article.)

But you're exactly right. Julia Allison is exactly like my undergrads. It's depressing that JA is 27 and STILL like this, but my own students have been coming to me for the last few years as their own mini-celebrities, well "known" in their small town, celebrated with humongous photo galleries on Flickr and Facebook and MySpace, and their attitude is that the world is truly waiting to see and hear what's next for them.

Imagine if you had Miley Cyrus in class this semester? She'd have her retinue, her busy schedule, countless appointments and events that took her away from attending class, and she'd probably expect you to cut her some slack. Now imagine 20 of her, and then multiply that by every class you teach.

I don't have an answer for this, but I think it's a widespread problem at most college campuses. Is it merely generational, this "everybody gets a trophy" mentality that I've read about on this blog and elsewhere?

My students treat me and their college life as if it were a little party thrown in their honor. They drift in and out of class, in and out of my office as if they were doing me some gigantic favor. Their social schedules take priority, hell, their need to update their Facebook page in class takes priority over taking notes.

And when I call them on it, it's as if I'm a well-meaning but out of touch oldster who doesn't understand. "But my friends are waiting for me. I HAVE to go now."

Attack of the Profess-Oppressors!

In a fit of frustration at the resistance she was getting in her required-for-majors class, one of my colleagues once said of her undergraduates, "They just don't trust me."

I think this is a problem lots of professors experience in college classrooms. Many [not all] college students do not trust their professors. They do not trust the professors to have their best interests at heart. They do not trust their professors' expertise as both scholars and educators. They do not trust that when the professors explain expectations that they really mean them. I think part of this stems from students mis-attributing portrayals of fictional college experience (usually from film & TV) as well as their inability to grasp the difference between the education and agenda of their High School instructors and that of their much-more educated University instructors (who are often also scholars). Along with this ignorance, factor the self-esteem, snowflake blizzard of specialness (such as that leading to some secondary schools discontinuing Honor Roll so the poorly performing students don't feel bad and even grade inflation) into this mess and we have a whole generation of kids with some warped ideas of what college education is supposed to entail.

Thus, we have the fiction crafted by irrational(?) students of what I am now going to forever call:

THE PROFESS-OPPRESSORS!

You see, undergraduates feel oppressed when professors do any of the following:

• Expect students to be punctual


• Expect students to attend class regularly


• Expect students to meet deadlines


• Expect students to respect the professors, the class, and fellow classmates


• Expect students to turn off their cell phone and refrain from texting during class


• Expect students to use laptops in class for note-taking (not IM, web-surfing, or solitaire)


• Expect students to format papers properly (like double-spacing & using proper margins)


• Expect students to use proper punctuation, grammar, and capitalization


• Expect students to complete assignments (full-stop)


• Expect students to pay attention


• Expect students to take their own notes


• Expect students to participate in class


• Expect students to buy the textbook (and other supplies)


• Expect students to read the textbook & other assigned readings


• Expect students to read the syllabus


• Expect students to familiarize themselves with the policies in the syllabus


• Expect students to learn the lessons taught in the course


• Expect students to earn at least mediocre grades (C) on all assessments


• Expect students to ask questions to clarify expectations


• Expect students to demonstrate a modicum of intellectual curiosity [on anything!]

All of these things [and a litany more I am sure I missed] are now considered emblematic of professorial tyranny against the undergraduate! Such Draconian policies as expecting regular attendance are tantamount to heresy on some campuses. And some apparently believe that the expectation for a student to buy a book for a college course exemplifies class oppression!

Good heavens! Class oppression!

Maniacal professors actually expect adults to read for class?!?!?!? They must be stopped at all costs.

With 40-60% of the faculty teaching undergraduate courses on American campuses being listed as "part-time," "adjunct," or "contingent" with little job security, poor pay, and no benefits (including such perks as office space, copying facilities, or basic human respect from office staff), I think that job's getting done right quick.

It's Just About Time for the Yearly Riot Act for Freshmen, and Ivan from Indiana Leads Us Off.

A piece of advice to all the first year students I have or will have: To hell with your parents' expectations.

Mommy and Daddy have spent the past 18 years of your life hovering over you, awarding you 9th place ribbons. Your parental overcompensation has come in heaps and droves. Consequently I see students who, after getting their first B back on a paper, clutch their chest in agitation; some even break down. One student told me just last week that "I know I seem calm right now, but I'm actually very troubled that I got a B+ on this test." Another one asked, in response to an A on a paper, "What could I have done to have made this a perfect, A+ paper?" I wanted to answer that he could have kissed my ass.

They don't give a shit what they've learned - it's all about the letter stamped on the end. I marvel at what kind of rubber-stampers these students had in the past, particularly the first-year student in my composition course who told me, quite seriously, that "our high school teachers used to do all this for us."

High school doesn't live here anymore, Laguna Beachers, and you're all high off your ass if you think any of the following:

• your tuition dollars entitle you to an A in my class


• I work for you


• my research and scholarship is purely confined to the realm of a university and has no use in the "practical" world


• I will acknowledge that your status as "millennial" students in some way legitimates my having to repeat things about my courses that can easily be found my READING the fucking syllabus

I mean, are you even in college to learn? Anything? Do you even know how to think for yourself? I'd much rather have a student who didn't give a shit about a B average, but loved to debate me on topical content of a course, than one who debated me BECAUSE he got a B.

In the real world, no one gives a flying fuck about whether or not your GPA was a 3.8 or a 4.0. This type of shit seriously portends an increase in cardiac arrests for your generation.

The Care Bear / Snowflake Axis. It All Makes Such a Lot of Sense Now.

I think this Care Bear guy is on to something. I had a Care Bear lunch kit in kindergarten, with a matching thermos. So here are a few Care Bear/Snowflake equivalents for you to chew on.

Tenderheart Bear - These are the snowflakes with dying grandmothers and sick children. They often appear at your office with watery, puffy eyes begging for time extensions, grades, etc. They're also soooooo sorry for the trouble. Yeah right.

Grumpy Bear - Ah, the smug disillusioned snowflakes. These like to make biting comments during class meant to make them look smarter than you. They also like to dominate class discussions and KNOW that there's no way possible they can fail your pathetic class.

Friend Bear - If I'm your friend will I make an A? These kiddos like to chat after class, bring baked goods around the holidays and, surprise!, have so much in common with you. Anyone up for a study session at the pub?

Wish Bear - The snowflakes who were told growing up that the could be anything they wanted to be. Now they think they can get a passing grade on a wish and a prayer. Sigh.

Love-a-Lot Bear - A special kind of snowflake, usually female. The kind that wear revealing clothing, flash million dollar smiles and want to "get to know you." Not to be confused with Friend Bear (above). Whatever you do, avoid seeing them outside of class if at all possible and keep the office door open. Don't go there. Trust me on this one.

Sounds like Sarcastic Sarah and Her Snowflake Are Headed to Maui.

I got an email from a student yesterday about the course she's enrolled in that starts next week. It turns out she can go to Hawaii this summer after all - isn't that great? I am so totally excited for her!

But she's going to have to miss a week and a half of classes. Bummer. Now keep in mind, it's only a six-week session. We meet a total of 12 times, and she's going to miss 3 of those. Yeah, a fourth of the course. She did offer to come to extra office hours, though, and do extra assignments.

After all, I don't have anything else to do except hold extra office hours for her so she can go on vacation. Plus, I love teaching the class so effing much I want to give her private lectures on my own time. And the exams that I have to create and grade aren't enough, I need to spend more of my time creating special work just for her so she can go on her trip to Hawaii.

I get paid about $3.35 an hour as it is for summer courses, and I can't see reducing that any further so Precious Snowflake can go on vacation. I'm seriously considering telling her all this, and offering to hold the class in Hawaii for her so her vacation time isn't interrupted by ridiculous things like college. I wonder if she'd mind taking me along.... She won't have to feed me, just buy me drinks.

Brick From Buffalo Wants a Snowflake Spotting Guide, Genuses, Families, Species, That Whole Thing.

This summer, I had a realization that of all the snowflakes we see in our classrooms, the pre-med snowflake is probably the most obnoxious. This kid has yet to hand in an assignment that doesn't come equipped with sycophantic hand delivery, neurotic emails, and appeals for a higher grade. Even if it's a 90--an A--he wants a 92, 94, or 96, so he can cut back on working in my class when the finals of his "real" classes come around, and he can skate on a B or C for my classwork. And each time he swaggers up to my desk or sends an email (with return-receipt flagged--because he's just that important!), I think back to RYS.

We all love to talk and write about our snowflakes, but after six years of teaching college composition, I've started to realize that there are different kinds of snowflakes. Think about snowfall--the collected mass of snowflakes. There is dry, powdery snow, and there is wet, mushy snow. There's yellow snow and grey snow. Likewise, there are different snowflakes. A greek and a pre-med are both snowflakes, yet each is snowflakey for different reasons.

As we gear up for the 08-09 academic year, hundreds of new faculty, TA's, and adjuncts will be joining our ranks here in the compound. Just like zoos sell spotting guides, to allow visitors to identify animals, I propose that RYS solicit and publish a series for the year--a snowflake spotting guide as a way to help these new faculty members settle in to their teaching positions. Remember the Care Bears--that mid 80's attempt to teach children empathy using themed (and highly commercialized) plush animals to symbolize a single emotion? Think of this project as a set of Care Bears to better help new faculty truly understand the super-special-importantness of Gen Y.

Albuquerque Alana Angered by Anything Academic.

I just can't believe that the school year is so close. At the large and useless college where I teach, we start back in 3 weeks, and I'm just now starting to come down from the crazy shit from last semester.

Textbooks? You want to know about textbooks? Forget it. Students as consumers? WHAT DO YOU THINK? Everyone in the world thinks of himself as a consumer. Everyone bitches. Everyone wants somebody else to PLEASE HIM, TAKE CARE OF HIM.

Oh, Jerkwater Jerry with his "fix"? Come on, he wants a magazine to do independent testing of colleges as if they were like waterbeds. (Hmmm, I miss my old waterbed. I'm an old hippie, and those were great times.)

Anyway, this semester is looming and I can't stand how POLITE everyone is being on the site. Let's get after the brats and let's do it now. I don't even mind if we just take swings at each other for a while, because God knows I'm not eager to see Gap-Toothed Gary who is in the next office, or Mumu-Marge or Fatty McBratty Finklestein (my bosses.)

The toll an academic life takes is just too much. I can't take it without my usual RYS SUPPORT....

GET ON IT,

Alana

"The Fix." A Longtime Reader Opines on Ralph Nader, Consumer Reports, and Different Types of College Education.

Everyone needs a good education and we are nowhere near providing this. Part of the reason is that we assume everyone needs the same education. A good education for one person may be meaningless to another.

I do research and teach at a mid to lower level comprehensive university. We have a PhD program in philosophy and offer an associates degree in physical therapy. We have courses in quantum mechanics and auto mechanics. Our most popular majors are psychology, communications and fashion design. Most of these students probably end up working at the mall (but who knows, the psychology major may be a better parent than his equally low paid sans degree co-workers).

Graduates from our aviation management program earn top dollars working at our nation's airports. And some of our science graduates go on to do graduate work at major universities. We have a world renowned music program. Our six year graduation rate is 40%.

Students and their families are ill equipped to sort through the maze of options. A simple example. We offer a bachelors degree in dental hygiene while the community college down the road has an associate’s degree program in dental hygiene. Does it make any difference? The lucky student will have a cousin who took the four year plan. This cousin might gripe that for all the extra time and money spent she earns no more than her colleagues with two year degrees, or she may boast how she quickly rose through the ranks and has come to really appreciate those shows on PBS. But, most families will have no such connections.

I once had a conversation with two young women who had degrees in management, or was it marketing, who had grown tired of dead end jobs and were now enrolled at the community college's nursing program. They could afford this because they had each married an engineer. Most people can't afford do-overs after realizing they made the wrong choice. (I am reminded of the Talking Heads song Seen and not Seen.) Of course, if they had started at the community college they would have never met their current mates!

All readers of RYS know many similar stories. So, what is to be done? People need much more information and it needs to be in a form they can use. They need a Consumer Reports. They need a Ralph Nader. Instead they get U.S. News & World Report, self-serving college websites and Margaret Spellings. If you buy a lemon of a car, you are screwed -- it will take you a few years for recover from the loss. But, getting a useless college degree is very hard to recover from. The information people need cannot be gleaned from statistics gathered from colleges and universities. Consumer Reports does not determine a car's safety by asking the manufacturer, they do it by testing the car itself.

The information can only come from surveying college graduates (and the non-degreed). We need large surveys done by a disinterested party with aim of finding what types of education serve different types of people, both in terms of income and other forms of life satisfaction. Where will our Ralph Nader come from?

Big Thirsty Responses: "Textbooks? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Textbooks!"

So, the first official "Big Thirsty" of the new semester - though many of us are still a month away - went nicely. We got a lot of great responses and as usual we're only able to use a few. But most of the major responses are covered below.

• When I get to choose my textbooks – rarely, because standardization is all the rage – I try to avoid "textbooks," even for lower-level classes. I choose real books that are relevant to the subject. They should have a point of view (something textbooks lack, which is why they are so boring), and they should have more than 15 words in a row without an interruption by a yellow "box" showing Olympe de Gouges, Max Planck or Mansa Musa and his or her "achievements" or a supplemental list of "key terms for discussion." In other words, it should be a work of intense journalism or accessible scholarship, not just an expensive version of the nibbles-and-bits approach to learning students are used to through Google and Wikipedia.



• I feel like a dope for admitting this - which is why I HATE Big Thirsty so much - but I usually order the cheapest text available. I hate that my students get so overextended by my insane colleagues who require more books than anyone can actually read in a term. (Especially when most of my colleagues lecture nonstop on "The Wonder of Me" most days anyway.) So, I look to see the bottom line and order the cheapie. It got me in trouble only once. the book was so thin I could almost see light passing through it. That semester, I must tell you, I had to really work. HA!
  
  
• Well, I see what my mentor uses and use that. Anything else might get me in hot water.



• I frankly don't care whether there is a CD ROM, a DVD, interactive modules, a professor's answer book or teacher's guide, a password-protected webpage, a map coloring book, a Declaration of Independence Spy Decoder Kit, a Great Moments in the Ford Presidency Wall Poster or any other bells and whistles. A separate primary source reader can be great. Otherwise, I don't use these extras. My students feel ripped off because some of their $80, $100, or $120 went to buy all that crap.



• I like to choose a textbook the person before me used. That way I can blame him/her for anything stupid. Plus then I can copy their lecture material and cut my workload by about 7/8ths And this way I also make sure to never exceed the common level of mediocrity in the department.



• My teaching load always includes a couple sections of a multi-section course. Book reps show up often to convince us of the fantastic quality of whatever piece of drivel has just been published. It's during those visits I have a little fun. I suggest to the book rep that we may be considering a common text. I then mention in one of the many useless faculty meetings that we put together a committee to look at a common text. Then I sit back and laugh. The book rep sees the possibility of an order for around 900 texts and starts a schmooze campaign of bottles of cheap wines and gifts. (Not once have they offered to give a discount price for students.) Faculty, in horror that this may happen, start fights in the halls and send me hate mail. I can then say to my students that I have tried to get a common text so the expense on them would be lessened. I'm their hero. Next...a common final...let's see what happens when I say that!



• Choosing textbooks? Oooh, well la-de-da. Another question aimed at the precious and privileged. How about a question for the rest of us who are GIVEN textbooks, MADE to do the assignments that some COMMITTEE has created? How about a Big Thirsty for the DISENFRANCHISED ADJUNCTS WHO DO MOST OF THE TEACHING?!?!?



• Let's see. When I was a student I had to buy more books than I ever needed. And thus it carries on my classes. Better to have a book and not need it than the variant.
  


• Since I teach educational technology courses, the books have to be hot off the presses or they will be obsolete, as technology changes so quickly. The vast majority of my students are pre-service teachers, so I look for books that give good examples of how real teachers are currently using common software programs to engage students in the learning process. If I had several good choices, I would choose the least expensive text from the lot. (Why spend $100 if a $50 book will do just as well?)



• Well, if I have to have a new textbook, and that's something I avoid with all my strength, I pick one I'm looking forward to reading anyway.



• I don't care what edition it is. I open to a random chapter, read the lesson and try to do the exercises. If I find them confusing, I pass because my students aren't going to try any harder than that. I pull the companion software, without using instructions provided, throw it in the computer and if it doesn't come right up, no go. I go to the instructor website, try once to get in. If there is anything that makes it complicated, you got it -- no go. If anything in the online process takes a long time to load, forget it. I've got students and adjuncts on dial-up. It's not that it has to be really easy (lots of pictures, minimal text), it's that it has to be easy (not complicated to use). Like everyone else, we're facing scads of sections with only one full-time instructor, so I have to make it the easy part of the process for my adjuncts. I've done the route they're on, and I know that they're going to be putting things together off campus, in a hurry. So variety, yes. Too much variety, no.
  
  
• Textbooks? Oh no. Not here, please. This whole textbook thing makes me crazy. I order primary sources for my students, and I'll order as many as I think they should read. Textbooks are folks who don't know how to teach. I can see their usefulness for grad students and for freeway fliers, but anyone who's done some decent work in his/her field won't be caught dead near a textbook. (Oooh, the pictures, the graphs, the charts...THE DVD!) And don't cut me off there, because I have a lot more to add. First of all what's most impo