Sheldon From Shrewsbury On Shouldering A Blind Student.

Last semester the disability counselor approved the registration of a blind student into my class. It was General Biology and the lab component involved a lot of microscope work. I tried to speak with the student and the counselor about accommodations - perhaps registering the student for a special 3-credit lecture-only class, or maybe he could register for a physics class instead where he could actually feel some of the reactions that were going on - to no avail. The student needs four credits to be full-time and doesn't have the math background needed for physics (god forbid he spend a semester getting the background). Besides, all students have a right to take my class, and I would just need to change my class to accommodate this right.

This meant I to redesign all my labs so he could play an active role (mind, I'd only gotten one day's notice before the semester began that he'd be in my class). I lucked out and there were several students who were willing to partner with him. I spent hours on many of the early labs, trying to find a role for him - he could help prepare slides and cut sections - sometimes adding useless, redundant steps just so he could be a part of the group. Then I lucked out again and realized he didn't want to do anything. Asking him to separate a bundle of long sticks and short sticks into two piles - one for the long sticks and one for the short - was too confusing, even after several attempts to explain this concept. In high school lab classes he'd been exempt from doing any lab work (though still received a passing grade) and I suppose he thought it would be the same in my class. At least when I noticed he wouldn't do the specially designed labs it meant I no longer had to design them in the first place.....

In the end he failed, and I don't even feel bad about it, but I do question the intelligence of the counselor and the administration in signing up a student for a class that they are not physically capable of doing well in. It's not fair to the disabled student to leave it the way it is and let them fail nor is it fair to the other students if the class is modified and made easier just for the disabled student. I think we've begun to stress "equality" over fairness in school, which is a shame.

A New RYS Playlet. (With Bitchy Commentary!)

Actual flake conversation overheard while waiting in line.

[+]

Future Wal-Mart Greeter (FWG): Hi there

Precocious Princess (PP): Hi

FWG: Did you take the exam today? Apparently the exam can be taken some other day?

PP: Yeah

FWG: It was hard. The prof. is so stupid and mean. Yes, because all the good profs give easy exams.

PP: I’ll do good. I studied for it: I’m a bit of an overachiever. You mean you will do WELL.

FWG: I didn’t understand most of the test: it was impossible to do based on my knowledge.

PP: You’ll pass??

FWG: Everyone passes. Except you. I went to see the prof, big waste of time, two useless hours. For the prof especially. The prof was disrespectful when I told her I don’t read books. Don’t read, or can’t read? She’s a real c&*t. Surprising a female would use this word.

PP: I always do all of my readings. Yeah right.

PP: What was the hardest part?

FWG: What the hell is going on with the essay question about journalism integrity and bias.
Nicely worded, especially appreciate bias pronounced as: bye-ass-ted.

PP: Yeah, that’s like opinions, you’re supposed to just talk about whether it’s okay for journalists
to have opinions on the news. And?

FWG: No it's not.

FWG: What about the last test? I did awesome, I got a 30.

PP: sarcastic much?

FWG: What the F**k are you saying, 30 is like an A+. That exam was worth 35% of the final grade. I got 30% on it, that’s so close to perfect. Did I hear that right?

PP: But I got a 62… so if you got 30% of 35, that’s not 30/35, its 30/100, right? Wait, you got 62: so what exactly is an underachiever?

FWG: No, you must have got bonus points or something. That doesn’t make sense. Why did your exam have bonus questions. I didn’t get any. Sucks. At your future profession, all your colleagues will have dementia, so you should be able to hack it there… maybe.

Where Our Readers Urge Colin to Keep Coddling Those CC Kids.

We had a good deal of mail about Community College Colin, and these three seem to best capture the admittedly narrow flava:

[+]

Colin - depending on your community college, Orson's advice might be the best advice to give. I recently lost a (full time, tenure-track) job at a Midwest CC because I failed students (the official reason was that I wasn't going to Church....seriously - the President of the college told me students would work harder in my class and get A's if they saw me at Church). Community Colleges do have to straddle that line between being a college and offering education, and being a community tool where adults can go to get the same sort of "you're great!" encouragement they got in High School. In an effort to raise grades, I offered so much extra credit that one student finished the class with a 130%, while most others earned F's - they hadn't bothered to do any of the extra credit work. I was told by administrators and other faculty that it's my responsibility to pass them - especially those students on athletic scholarships.

Talk to your real Dean and send out feelers to see if this is encouraged, say, "I have one student who is getting an F - what do you recommend?" If they tell YOU to work harder, instead of saying "give the student an F", then the arbitrary passing of students is encouraged. If this is the case, chances are it is a dead-end school and most of its graduates will not go on to a 4-year school anyway. In that case, who cares if they get a D for F work.

I've taught at a number of CC's, though, and this seems to be rare. At the majority of CC's, the FT faculty do get upset at adjuncts randomly passing students and watering down courses. If you cannot talk to your faculty supervisor about this, try to talk to their supervisor (and request a different supervisor).

For now, thought, until you find out what the unofficial stance of the college is, keep your head low and do what you're doing.

[+]

Colin, take it from a veteran CC adjunct: Even if FT jobs become available, it is statistically unlikely that you will ever be interviewed, let alone get the position. This is not an attack on your character or your expertise. It's a fact of life.

That said, let's move on to another and more important point: You can work your tail off, serve on lousy committees, bend over backwards for students, be friendly with all your colleagues, get great evaluations from faculty observers and students alike, and it still won't make a damned bit of difference. You are an adjunct cog in an increasingly corporate-driven machine that will keep you around only as long as you don't make trouble or cost them too much money. As for your "wrongdoings," believe me: many of us are doing it.

Keep the customers happy, and they will reward you with nice, if semi-literate, feedback. And then you might get to cling to your crappy, low-paying but necessary job a while longer. Standing on principle and maintaining integrity doesn't pay those electric bills, after all.

Care for some advice? Well, here it is anyway: Start making your way, quietly and discreetly, into another line of work. This one is not going to pan out. It may kill your soul eventually, and it will not be worth it.

[+]

Were it always the case that an Orson was around for part-timers like me and Colin!

I was bumped unceremoniously from a CC job three years ago, and the last thing anyone ever said to me as I packed my tiny satchel of personal belongings was, "I think you just could have done more for your students."

Yeah, sure. I could have done their homework. I could have excused even more of their absences. I could have eaten shit all day and called it a porterhouse steak. But I didn't.

Happily, there is another huge community college just 40 miles from the first one, and I happily signed on for 3 classes a quarter there. And I smile when I show up, and I let the kids stroll in 15 minutes late, and I give extensions and extra credit out like every day's Halloween and Christmas and Sadie Freaking Hawkins Day.

My evaluations are sky high. My students "like" me. Some of them call me their "pal." Now, I don't know how much they're learning of the material. I do know that they seem happy to see me the next semester when they say, "Mr. X, you can't believe the easy ride I have this semester. You were really rough on us!" And I think, yeah, well, it's all relative Johnny.

From my own calculations, about 25% of my students here are actually transferring to one of the many 4 year institutions in this part of the state. The rest are completing a variety of completely useless associates degrees. So my fudging Fs to C-s and C-s to As probably doesn't matter much. I'd love to see the face of a "real" university proffie when one of my A students saunters in 15 minutes late and ready to completely butcher the first test.

"Where, O little one, did you get your freshman course?"

"Over there," they'll point. "Mr. X over at the Juco. He was my pal!"

Dr. Schadenfrau Returns To Run Down a Little Paul Simon.

Whoa...where’s the time gone? Last I remember, it was August and I was prepping some muck for the fall. Next thing I know, it’s November 1. It would appear that Dr. Schadenfrau has experienced some of the Rip Van Winkle effect in the time/space continuum. Good gin will do that to you, as you may have heard. Mediocre absinthe leads to being post-modern, French, and generally deceased…just a warning but certainly no reason to decline the beverage, if offered.

I can’t tell if 20 odd years have passed or not since I last read RYS, but it looks as if the laments are about the same. Our colleagues and students—that variety pack of wankers, churls and non-descript nebbishes—inspire me to channel Paul Simon and re-work that old classic “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” as part of the recent “Exit Strategy” chatter.

Paul’s lyrics require some reconsideration in both academia and 2009. First, I’d like to refute the statement that the problem is all inside my head, as the song hints. My head is a busy place—not unlike a 3-ring circus with a Britney Spears meltdown going on at center stage. There’s really not much room left for problems especially when I hallucinate and see the VP as a large bear on a unicycle who could lunge and severe my un-tenured arse at a moment’s notice.

Naturally, I’d enjoy being very logical about this whole situation as the song portends, but with mandatory furloughs in place I am not permitted to channel any logic through my brain on certain days each month. While it’s been alluded to that I may be engaged in a struggle to be free as an academic, I’m afraid that’s not the case in these economic times. I truly can’t afford ‘free’ in any sense of the word. Heck, I’ve even had to modify “easy” [please see my profile on Match.com if you’ve got some of your own teeth and a job]. Believe me, lowering my standards lower than they already are, is pretty damn tough.

Repetition and instrusions aside, meaning, as a socially constructed variable, is always lost and misconstrued. No need to be crude and repeat the argument; I can’t entertain that, or the negotiation of socially constructed meaning on this, a furlough day. Even the bear on a unicycle motif has to go by the wayside when my pay is withheld…state rules, you know.

• Anyway, Jack (Dept. Chair), I can’t truly exit; I can only cope. I’m gonna slip out the back because no one will see me skulking to the parking lot and assign me to another committee. Tell Stan (Director of HR) I need a new 401K plan that’s not swirling in the financial toilet bowl or I’m here for another 20+ years at a minimum.
  
  
• And Roy (Engineering prof.), I do not want to come to your house when your we’re-kind-of-separated wife’s away and see your Koi. To the best of my knowledge, Koi do not live in hot tubs. I’ll take my chances with the semi-toothed on dating sites. Tell Margie I’ll see her Thursday for bridge at your house, by the way.
  
  
• As for that bus, Gus (VP Academics), I’d be delighted to use the college’s sponsored transit program; however, you pay me so little I’m forced to live in an exurbia un-serviced by multi-passenger vehicles other than mini-vans.
  
  
• And Lee (Campus Operations), I don’t know what’s with this dropping off the key crap, but I do have a magnetic swipe card that may, or may not, glide nicely between your cheeks. I’m free Saturday night if you want to give it a go. For even cheaper thrills, I can wear my academic regalia and you can call me Professor MacGonagall.

Community College Colin. "I Know What I'm Doing is Wrong."

I started teaching part-time at this large community college in the Midwest two years ago. I was ABD for the first year, but have since finished my doctorate. I've had no luck in the job market, so each semester I fill out the preference forms at the CC and wait to see how many classes I'll get in the coming term - and of course then discover how much (or little) money I'll have to pay bills, buy groceries, etc.

I live on my own, even though my parents are only about 40 miles away. They happily offer to supplement my salary, and I admit I've taken a few $1000 "loans" from them over the past 2 years to cover things like a broken down car and unexpected dental bills.

But the $2200 a class I get is extremely important to me being able to keep myself fed and afloat as I enter another job search year. So I've spent a good deal of time trying to do a great job.

In my first month at the college, I met Old Man Orson, the self-proclaimed "Dean" of the part-timers, a guy who's in a different department than me, but someone who I see nearly every day in the faculty workroom. Orson is all right, if a little bellicose. Over time Orson has given me lots of advice about doing this job well. He's not looking for a real job, has retired from state government a number of years ago, and teaches for fun. But his view of things at the CC has always alarmed me a bit.

His first real advice to me came while he and I and several other newbies were doing a final exam grading session in the same seminar room. He said, "If there's one rule here, it's this. If you want classes next semester, make sure you don't flunk anyone." Someone in the group sorta laughed and Orson looked at him. "You doubt it? Go ahead and try it and tell me how it works out."

As a first semester person at that point, it chilled me a bit. I was looking down at some grades that were quite a bit south of passing, and I admit I hesitated. I didn't just want classes, I needed them. I changed Fs to Ds and felt a little sick about it.

As a couple of more semesters have passed, I've noted a few part-timers who are no longer among that newbie group. Orson's noticed it too, and one day said, "Remember Seth? He flunked half his class. Wonder where he is now?"

So in my classes this semester I find myself doing things I know are wrong. I'm going out of my way to accommodate students who are doing nothing for themselves. I'm extending deadlines, changing requirements. Orson's "advice" about keeping students happy has overwhelmed any particular idea I have about offering rigorous classes. My students are so lazy, so unmotivated, so incapable of thinking for themselves, that at times I start to think that it makes almost no difference if they pass or fail to me. Nobody, it seems, wants to be here. They come late, miss weeks at a time, and turn in the most desultory work. And I let them. And I keep them up to date with endless emails summarizing what they're missing, what they should do next. And I get up at 6 am each morning to check email, to make sure I haven't missed any requests for help over night. There's never anything. If they don't care, why should I?

When I started to inquire around and talk to other part-timers, people my age and older, I found their students were similar to mine, and their actions were, too. We're not rocking the boat. We're massaging the students and getting them through. Nobody feels like what we're doing is right or wrong. We're just cogs in the wheel. We're trying to stay below the radar, not wanting to cause a fuss or get a bad evaluation.

I have a real faculty mentor, other than Orson, I mean, but I've met her only once. She's never visited my class, never talked to me about teaching. She sent me the standard syllabus in the first semester and had a 4 minute conversation with me on my first day on campus. I've queried her a couple of times about things I didn't understand and all she ever did was tell me that I could find the answers in the faculty handbook. I get my student evaluations electronically at the end of the term, and I suppose someone else does, too. I get an email telling me when and where I teach, and that's it. As long as grades get turned in I have absolutely no contact with the school at all. I only ever see other part-timers, and now I feel like I'm a bit of a veteran myself.

The first time a newbie comes up to me for advice, I want to have something better or brighter to say than what Orson told me. But I just can't think what it would be.

I know what I'm doing is wrong deep down. I know that students pass my class without having actually completed college work. But I can't risk getting a bad evaluation, losing the tiny amount of money that I need in order to keep the lights on at my apartment.

Dick from Doylestown On What Has Changed.

I was a grad student at a middling grad program at a middling school with a supposedly good reputation among faculty peers in my discipline. From the moment I set foot on campus, I started seeing Snowflakes pile into the classroom. There were the MA students who derided lit reviews, who yelled vicious screeds at classmates they disagreed with, and who refused to do group work yet received A’s anyway. I saw undergrads who skipped weeks of class and complained about their failing grades, blaming their profs and TA’s for their not knowing basic material. I saw undergrads having extended chats amongst themselves, disrupting class, ignoring the angry looks from classmates (whose grades were nearly double their own), and then making snide remarks about the prof who finally told them to shut up after politely asking them to quiet down 3 times.

As the instructor/grader, I saw students who could not, seemingly WOULD NOT, follow simple instructions for assignment completion…and then throw full-blown kindergarten-level hissyfits when they weren’t patted on the head and told how bright they were while receiving a gold star with their A-for-effort. I saw students who didn’t hand in a lick of work on minor assignments blame me for their inability to do major assignments. I was told I was to blame for their not knowing simple words like “superficial” and “national.” I was told BY A SUPPOSED COLLEAGUE that I needed to lighten up when I actually held students to such simple standards as paper deadlines, an attendance policy, and the necessity to pay attention in class (like, you know, not falling asleep every class or texting).

After being told, repeatedly, that it was all my fault that students were unhappy, I actually started to believe it. But here’s the thing: Something terrible has changed in the past 20 years in higher ed. I started at a community college. I easily excelled there, then excelled in a small, highly selective liberal arts college. I was considered smart. I did not get straight A’s in college, but I did get mostly A’s. Many of my own students have zero ability to perform at the same level, and most of them have higher GPA’s than I did. My own profs gave oral instructions for papers, which often led to lost points if I missed something. I learned from that and made sure my own students got written instructions to go along with not just lengthy oral instructions, but also short practice assignments as prep. Most of the time they were prepped and primed to write that essay in ways that would have made the grade a gimme for my generation.

What happened? Usually about a third of my students completely ignore half of the items needed to cover for the paper. Or it looks like the paper was proofread by a rabid wolverine (meaning, not at all). Or they do something really interesting…that totally ignores the instructions. Or they steal part or all of the paper from the Internet. In short, about a third of the students in NEARLY EVERY CLASS I HAVE EVER TAUGHT cannot follow basic written and oral instructions. Many students cannot sit still, pay attention, take proper notes, take a test, or perform any other basic requirement needed for education in the past 100 years. It’s not all of them, but it’s far too many of them.

"Please Don't Force Me to Drink the Kool-Aid." Salt Lake City Sammy Is Stunned.

I teach at an insane asylum. Well, no, actually, it just feels like that.

Here's a recent email sent campuswide from an administrator. I would tell you the school, but I'm too effing embarrassed. I wanted to reply, "Please don't force me to drink the Kool-Aid," but I just erased the email as soon as possible and drank a bunch of Mexican beer instead.

I can understand why graduation is something to get involved in, but I'm stunned that this is how it gets sold to faculty.

Am I nuts, or is it the school?

[+]

The Fall Graduation ceremony is on Friday, December 18. You really should attend. I give you a short list of the myriad reasons to do so. It is your duty. It is an honor. You honor your students. Best of all: It is one wailing good time!

If this is your first time the event is surprisingly fun and fulfilling. Really! Ask anyone who has gone. For me, it has kept getting better and better. You truly see the fruit of your labors. The students are a joy to behold. They are so proud and you are too. The whole event is thousands of beaming, smiling faces. If that won’t put you into a good mood you better get some professional care.

We live in a time of heinous crimes seemingly without number. From a local teen massacring his or her parents to immense bombs blasting to rubble sacred places of worship in Iraq with hundreds dead; we see parades of these horrors go goose-stepping by with a cadence suggesting the inevitably of evil triumphing over good. It gets to you. I say, how about a night off?

Evil has us drugged. We are numbed and think we can do nothing. Nonsense! The graduation ceremony is delightful antidote. A man much (much, much) greater than me got it right. “Yes, we can.”

So fight Evil and have fun. (I am serious here. It is no joking matter.) Please come to the graduation this December.

Pete from Pepeekeo Is About to Pack It In.

I've taught in community colleges for over 20 years, and I've loved it. I'd wake up in the morning and couldn't wait to go to work. In my everyday life, I'd notice something I could use to make my classes more interesting and I'd incorporate it. I learned how to use all kinds of technology long after graduate school, in order to keep my classes up-to-date and fun. Faculty and students alike have complimented my teaching, and many refer to me as "a natural teacher!"

Faculty and most students still compliment my teaching, but there is now a consistent minority of students that drains my energy and enthusiasm. They are rude, thinking nothing of walking to the middle of the room to staple their (late) paper while I am trying to explain a concept. Thus, these "transparent" students block the view of about 10 students without thought. They believe that attending class and completing an assignment give them the right to pass the class, never mind that they write at about the junior high level! They do not even give me the chance to be interesting because from the very first day of class, they file in and flip off their minds.

Today, one of these students made me remember a promise I made to myself long ago. Since tomorrow is the deadline to drop classes and earn a "W," rather than the obvious "F," I emailed all the students who are not likely to pass my class. In addition, I instructed them to talk to me in my office or reply by email because federal law protects their right to privacy. I don't know what I was thinking! Surely, I should've foreseen the reaction of Me-Man.

Me-Man decided that the time and place to discuss his failing grade was during class! Now, some background. Throughout the semester, Me-Man has been giving me disgusted expressions from the back of the class. How weird has it been for me to teach a class and have the rest of the class laughing while Me-Man flashed his usual disgusted look at me? Disconnect much? Today was special for him though, for today, he learned he was flunking and he sought his revenge.

He raised his hand (very courteous of him) and then launched into an all-out verbal siege about how he had "learned nothing" in the class and didn't know what a controversial idea we had been studying had to do with English. (Uhm, good writing requires good thinking. Did you miss that lesson, too?) He also threw in his current academic status thus binding me with FERPA. His words were so not constructively critical that the student next to him said, "Shut up!" I simply reminded him that he should email me or come to my office and then I dismissed the class.

A few students lagged behind to tell me that they disagreed with Me-Man and thought he had been "harsh!" I have since posted an anonymous survey on their class website, so they can vote on whether I should continue to teach as I have been or change and teach in a more traditional way. Me-Man would not like the results thus far, for it seems none of his classmates agree with him.

There were so many things I wanted to say to Me-Man (and other students like him), but I was bound by FERPA and manners. And so, here are the things I wish I had been able to say:

• Hey, Me-Man, guess what? You're not the fucking center of the world! What makes you think you're so important that you can use up class time to discuss your grade or "critically" review my class or my teaching? Read the fucking email! What does it say? Email me back or come to my office?!
  
  
• I'm very sorry, Me-Man, that you are so smart that you have not learned a God-damn thing. It must be really hard to be you. What's your IQ anyway? Mine is 153.
  
  
• If you'd pay closer attention to the way this class is organized (as explained by me since the first week of the semester and as stated in the Course Outline), Asshole, you probably wouldn't be flunking!
  
  
• If you're so damned smart, why are other students off and running in their learning and you're not? The class website is organized so that students who are really interested in learning can easily do so with or without my help. In every class, including yours, there are 2-5 students living in an intellectual world that clearly show they are going to excel through college. Oh right, you think you already live there!

And so it goes. Long ago, at the beginning of my career, I promised myself that when I stopped loving teaching, I'd retire. I honestly thought I'd teach until the day I died; I loved it that much! But thanks to Me-Man and a minority of students like him, I have spent a great deal of time lately creating a 5-year exit plan--doing everything I've always wanted to do, including telling Assholes like Me-Man off, but haven't.

Consider this post a beginning to the end and the official death of "a natural teacher...."

Zoltan from Zuma Beach Offers a Little Lecture on What Is and Isn't Fair. (AKA Bozo's Comeuppance.)

Dear Bozo,

I shouldn't have snapped out you after class last week. Even worse is that as you trailed me loudly whining, “It's not fair! It's not fair!” I maintained my demeaning tone within earshot of other people, explaining how you have missed every single deadline this semester so far and that I'd had my fill of your excuses. Still, let me try to explain myself in hopes that you will forgive me.

I have a clearly — some would say legalistically — worded attendance and late-work policy detailed in my syllabus. The gist of the late-work policy remains (for everyone, not just you) that no late work is accepted without prior consultation and a good reason. Hell, I'll usually accept “too many things due at once” as “a good reason” if you haven't worn out my goodwill. To me, this seems like a reasonable policy. If a student is a fuck-up, however, the downside of the policy is that late work= ZERO. And so here we are. I'm not saying you're a fuck-up...but you are.

I never should have let you add the class as late as I did. That was my mistake, and I'm probably getting what I deserve. In my experience, students who can't get their shit together enough to have their schedules worked out by the beginning of the first week turn out to be shiftless pains in the ass. But you seemed like a nice enough kid, and desperate.

You didn't show up to class, though, for another two weeks. I understand: You were being evicted. Must have been tough. During that time you missed assignments, quizzes, and eventually a deadline for a major paper. At first, I didn't accept your excuses—well, I never accepted them, because you are clearly a weasel. But you wore me down, and I told you I would accept your paper AT THE BEGINNING OF THE NEXT CLASS, if you would recognize that you were out of chances, that there would be no more late work for any reason and no more excuses. You agreed and thanked me till my nose nearly bled. Come next class, no paper. What was your reason? Printer problems? Flat tire? Don't remember. To get rid of you I told you to put it in my box later in the day. It was a shitty paper, as you know. It didn't address the assignment, was clearly squeezed out moments before class, and so I gave you the grade you earned: F. I look forward to your
revision.

So last week, I was surprised when you were surprised that I would not give you credit for your second late paper. I know it's worth 15% of your class grade, and that the zero fucks you hard in a class in which you are already, well-fucked. But, as I pointed out, we had a deal, and my policy is what it is—and you are as out of breaks as I am out of patience. Then you tried a bold and inventive excuse: You told me that the syllabus/schedule listed the wrong date. I pulled it out (the syllabus!), showed it to you. Then you said that the syllabus on Blackboard contained the wrong date. This concerned to me, even though every other student in class arrived with an assignment. I logged into the classroom computer and lo! there was no error with the deadline date. (I was relieved.) That didn't stop you. You became bolder still. You said, “But when I log in with MY username, a syllabus with different dates is there!” Yes, that's right. When the rest of the class and I log in to Blackboard, we all see one syllabus. When you log in, a ghost in the machine displays a completely different schedule, out of sheer perversity.

This was the tipping point for me, I think. What I heard was, “I have so little respect for you, and I think you are so fucking stupid and weak that I will serve you the most outrageous bullshit, and you, you ignorant prick, will sup on it.”

Well, you greasy little cocksucker, I'm done supping. Don't like my policy? Tell it to the dean. And stop calling me. That last call from you implying that your failure was my fault for not intuiting that you didn't know the deadline only pissed me off more.

I was just bullshitting you about wanting forgiveness. I know you're going to give me all 1's on my evaluations, but you know what? Go fuck yourself.

Prof. Zoltan

The Neverending Fun of Snowflake Email. How Else Can We Help Students Who Are Not Even Our Own?

Hello, Sir, (Thanks for using a proper salutation vs. "hey" or "yo")

I am a student currently taking Stats for Snowflakes under Professor Otherguy, who I believe is a colleague of yours. (Yes. Yes he is. Kudos to you for connecting those dots.) I am using the 10th edition of the Stats for Snowflakes textbook while the rest of the class is using the 11th. (And this is of concern to me how?) The only major difference between the two books are the practice question sets at the end of the chapter. (I can see why that would be a major difference, yes.) The questions are based on data sets found on a CD sold with the textbook, but because I am using a used 10th edition instead of a a new 11th edition like the rest of the class, I do not have the CD and I have been unable to track one down. (Caveat Emptor! Don't buy incomplete used textbooks!)

Therefore, I have unable to fully study for my midterm, which is on Saturday. (It is a balmy Thursday afternoon as I read this e-mail. At what point during the last month and a half did you come to realize there was no CD?) I asked Professor Otherguy what to do and he said you may have a copy (which I do because I used the 10th edition when I taught the course SIX YEARS AGO and haven't taught it since!) of either the CD or perhaps by email that you can give or lend to me.

Do you think you could help me out? (What, pray tell, could possibly be in it for me to "help you out"? You are in a different program -- I'll never see you in my any of my classes!) I could meet you either on campus or maybe you could just email the data of the CD to me. (Right. I'll drive to campus to give you a CD I might never see again. No wait. I'll use my time to zip all those files up and crash the university's mail server with one big ol' attachment. Uh No.)

Thank you in advance for your help, (You're polite, I'll give you that)