Sunday, September 2, 2012

Bright Profs, Small Campus (A Bad Parody of a Popular 1980s Novel)


In honor of my fellow adjuncts who are returning to work over the next several weeks, I humbly offer this small diversion…

You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this during the last week of summer break.  But here you are, and you cannot say the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the past three months have made the details fuzzy.

The summer has already turned on that imperceptible pivot where Memorial Day weekend changes into the few short days before classes begin.  You know this moment has come and gone, but you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line behind which all is the pleasure of a long vacation and beyond which is the anticipatory palsy of knowing you must soon face classrooms full of slack-jawed freshmen.  Somewhere back there you could have cut your losses, but you rode past that moment when you signed your contract for the fall semester. 

You are seated at a small desk in a big room filled with your colleagues.  The occasion is the semiannual faculty meeting at Snowflake College.  You glance idly at your fellow faculty as they saunter in.  Most of them are locals who live in Treetop.  You can easily identify the profs who commute from out of town.  They’re the ones who aren’t dressed like mannequins in an REI store.

The seats around you fill up quickly.  You nod to Jan as she takes the desk in front of you.  Phil, the business professor, takes the seat to your immediate right.  You like Phil; he’s a decent sort.  Duckie grabs the seat to your left.  Duckie is an affable fellow, particularly popular with the young female students despite his diminutive stature and uncanny resemblance to Jon Cryer.  He also has the grating habit of punctuating every third sentence or so with a rapid fire, staccato chuckle.  You alone seem to have noticed this tic.  You have no particular reason for disliking him that you can put your finger on, but you do anyway.  Despite this, you make small talk as you wait for things to start.

Like a conductor tapping her baton on a lectern, Dean Kimpossible clears her throat.  Everyone looks up.  The meeting begins.

Kimpossible is a stout, fortyish blonde who in unguarded moments wears a hard, vaguely pissed off expression.  In conversation, she affects a calculatedly empathetic air.   You have deduced from her various public pronouncements that her philosophy is mainly a pastiche of bumper sticker aphorisms such as “Not all who wander are lost,” grafted onto odd bits gleaned from Esalen, est, and Gestalt therapy, by way of 1970s Marin County.    

Kimpossible holds a doctorate in Wiccan mythology from an online degree mill, of which she is inordinately proud.  She has been the campus dean for the past four years, but likes to burnish her street cred by teaching at least one section a semester.  She is well-liked by most of your peers.  Your stomach churns at the very sight of her.  You are normally tolerant of flakes, but a flake with an agenda scares the living hell out of you.  You fidget uncomfortably in your cramped plastic chair.  

“Hello, and welcome to our staff meeting.” 

Kimpossible clasps her hands before her and tilts her head slightly to one side.  “Please forgive me if I’m not one hundred percent tonight.  I’ve experienced a family crisis over the past couple of weeks.  My beloved Schnauzer, Fritz, suffered an intestinal blockage.  He nearly died.  Twice!  But I called upon the Earth Goddess to guide the veterinarian’s hands and heal Fritz, and She answered me by making Fritz whole again and in harmony with the cosmos.”  Everyone around you murmurs sympathetically.  Kimpossible acknowledges their approbation by nodding slowly and softly saying, “Thank you, thank you.”

You settle in resignedly as Kimpossible covers the same stale topics you have heard at numerous staff meetings.  You surreptitiously check your watch every few minutes.   You shift and shift again in your seat, trying in vain to get comfortable.  The hard plastic of the chair gradually numbs your posterior.  You regret having had that second bowl of black bean vegetarian chili at the pre-meeting potluck.  

As the dean chatters on, you desperately seek a diversion.  You stare transfixed at the back of Jan’s head and the mass of long, stringy hair spilling over the back of her peasant blouse.  Jan teaches Vedic meditation three times a week.  This is a very popular class at Snowflake.  Clearly, there are few experiences more gratifying than sitting crosslegged on your very own mat with forty other people in a large circle, chanting “Om” in unison for fifty minutes at a stretch while earning college credit. 

Your path and Jan’s ordinarily do not cross.  Regrettably, this has not always been the case.  Your Monday evening section last fall had the misfortune of meeting in the same room as Jan’s afternoon class.  You soon discovered that Jan, carried away by the rapture of communing with the life force of the universe, invariably ran over her scheduled class time leaving you and your students waiting in the hallway. 

You suffered in silence for a couple of weeks.  You wanted to be a team player.  You did not want to make waves.  You learned the custodial staff was not nearly as magnanimous as you.  They complained to Kimpossible about having to set up desks in the room after Jan’s class to accommodate yours. 

You were disappointed but hardly surprised to learn that, in the face of this dilemma, Kimpossible made a perfectly logical decision: Rather than tell Jan to wrap things up on time, she moved your class into a stifling broom closet of a room downstairs over your bitter protests.  Your students blamed you for their discomfort.  They swore they would take Vedic meditation the following semester.        

After what seems an eternity, Kimpossible gets to something resembling a point: “Tonight, we’re going to discuss how we evaluate our students and keep them engaged.  Remember, Snowflake College is like no other college and our students are unique.”

You groan inwardly.  You think, oh god, here it comes.

“First, I want to talk to you about the ways we measure student progress.  Sometimes you just can’t rely on A’s and B’s alone to show students how much having them in your class means to you. 

“I’m also aware that a few of the less enlightened among you are demoralizing students with C’s, D’s, and F’s when you know that all of them did their best and many of them have always been ‘A’ students.  This has to stop!

“Let me give you an example of positive reinforcement that you can use in your classrooms.  When Fritz was clinging to life in the pet hospital, a technician came in to draw blood.  He tried, he really tried, but he just couldn’t get the needle into a vein. 

“Fritz was howling in pain, and I could see that the technician’s self esteem was affected by this.  So I patted him on the arm and said, ‘That’s okay.  You did your best.  That’s all that matters.’

“You should have seen his face!  He brightened right up!  He still couldn’t find a vein, but the important thing is he gave it his best effort and he felt good about himself afterwards.  We must make sure our students feel good about themselves, too!

“Now, I’d like you to share your student engagement strategies with the group.”

You sense an opportunity to shine.  You raise your hand.  Kimpossible frowns.  “Yes, Unassuming?”

“Well, I like to assign small group work—“

Kimpossible sighs and cuts you off impatiently.  “We don’t have time for a story, Unassuming.  How about you, Duckie?”

“In my classes, I give them small group work.  I find that keeps them engaged.  Because, you know, they need to be engaged, right?  Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh!”

“Oh my gosh!  You are so right, Duckie!  No wonder your students love you!  How about you, Jan, what do you think?” 

“I really believe in kinesthetic learning,” Jan says breathily.  “Only by moving around can students get in touch with their inner spirit and fully appreciate the beauty that is the world.”

“True, so true, Jan!” Kimpossible pauses for effect, then continues: “These are all great points. 

“We have to adapt our teaching style to keep our students’ attention.  I’ve decided to start with this fall’s Mavens & Intuitions series.”  Mavens & Intuitions is Snowflake’s monthly community speakers program.  You have attended several events in the past.  You found them interesting and informative.  You find that Kimpossible felt otherwise.

“I don’t like lectures!” Kimpossible proclaims.  “Lectures are boring!  They’re only good for communicating useful information efficiently.  People should learn stuff that’s fun!  That’s why Mavens & Intuitions this year will be about entertainment and doing things people enjoy.

“In the same spirit, I expect all of you to make your classes a truly enriching experience for our exceptional students.  Have a blessed semester!”

At last, the meeting is over.

You leave the building and practically sprint for your car.  You sink into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath.  The smell of the surrounding pine forest envelops you.  The thought of tonight’s meeting and the prospect of teaching another collection of entitled brats sticks in your throat and you almost gag.  You will have to go slowly.  You will have to learn everything all over again…

Then again, maybe you won’t.

© 2012 The Unassuming Scholar 

No comments:

Post a Comment