Tag Archives: higher education

On knowing, a new pillory

John_Waller_in_pillorySomeone has reinterpreted the pillory–it was only a matter of time, really. Right? It might make me an awful person, insensitive to a whole range of questions (I hear your future rants, ranters), but I am experiencing a certain schadenfreude in the very concept of this blog, Public Shaming, where certain types of social media detritus are exposed.

In all seriousness, I have become very interested in social media (like the rest of academia) and its role in the creation of knowledge. Because, clearly, this type of trending seems self-perpetuated where the volume of believers outweighs the ‘facts.’ (Not that this is new, cf belief)

I know because they know instead of I know because I checked.   This isn’t a new by any stretch of the imagination. But with the instantaneous proliferation of ‘knowing,’ is common knowledge even knowledge anymore?

Knowing is hard.


Darth Chancellor and the academic HMO?

The Board Strikes Back — Darth Chancellor weighs in on CUNY brouhaha.

Far be it for me to be so naive that I think money grows on trees and oversight is avoidable.  The Board of Trustees is a function of universities (or maybe a symptom?) that is not going anywhere.  What troubles me, however, is that the majority of boards I am familiar with are not actually staffed with academics (though, surely there is representation).  Now, before you blow the ‘play fair’ horn, I do acknowledge that there is a reason for governance that is not completely by the faculty — there is more going on at a university than education.  Yet, when the board of trustees gets to decide curricular directions I hear alarms sounding (let’s agree this is not the first time a board has asserted itself against the wishes of the faculty— everyone remembers Mitch Daniels and Purdue University, right?)

As one Purdue protester put it:

“What we see again with this appointment is a top-down, corporate driven shaping of education.”

And every American university I have stepped foot in has demonstrated this exact trend. Lamentable and destructive to the integrity of the college degree, standards are loosened, bars are lowered, whining is appeased.  I have witnessed curricula that have been adjusted for certain schools within universities who also happen to secure a plethora of funding externally. The student-as-consumer and education-as-commodity model is, quite frankly, a destructive load of hooey. The best argument I’ve heard against this is actually marvelously simple: college students do not have the knowledge to act as a consumer; rather, they are in college to gain that knowledge.  It is generally up to the educators to determine what they need to know by virtue of their extensive education. Here’s another argument against it, however.

The Rebel Professors are on Dantooine!

All of this to report that Chancellor Matthew Goldstein of the City University of New York, a consortium of many colleges throughout the five boroughs of the city, has responded to the concerns expressed by the CUNY community in regards to the flippant remarks of a Queensborough Community College administrator. (You can find her remarks here.)  The Professional Staff Congress (a cross-campus advocacy body) has voiced its condemnation of the situation. (You can find PSC president Barbara Bowen’s comments here.)  After the PSC body broadcast its condemnation loudly to the CUNY community which was simultaneously joined with an outcry at the QCC administration and the University administration with further condemnation of the Pathways Initiative,  Chancellor Goldstein has sent out an e-mail to the entire CUNY community today:

I am writing to address several issues that have arisen recently in connection with the implementation of the Pathways resolution of the Board of Trustees.

First, earlier this month, the interim vice-president for academic affairs at Queensborough Community College wrote an unfortunate letter to the College’s English Department. The author subsequently apologized for the character and tone of her communication. We should remember that while Pathways established the structure for curricular reform and its implementation, faculty are fully engaged in developing course content. Such collaboration is very much in the tradition and spirit of a great University.

Second, Dr. Terrence Martell, chair of the University Faculty Senate, and Dr. Barbara Bowen, President of the Professional Staff Congress, have sent an email to the faculty in which they erroneously state that the faculty have the power to block the implementation of Pathways. This claim misstates the core principle, embodied in state law and the bylaws and policies of the University, that the authority for the governance of the University on all matters rests with the Board of Trustees. The Board of Trustees has delegated a significant role to the faculty on academic matters, and the faculty have the right to exercise their professional judgment in fulfilling that role. However, the faculty are not empowered to ignore or violate a policy established by the Board of Trustees or the implementation of that policy by the Chancellor.

I hope this clarifies matters and allows us to continue to work collaboratively to implement Pathways in a manner that is in the best educational interests of our students.

The issue of curricular change joined with phrasing like “the faculty are not empowered,” are particularly piquant.  I cannot help but metaphorically reach towards the adage of the corporate bean-counter deciding what treatment physicians can give their patients, the requirement to have procedures and tests approved (you know those physicians, they just love to fire up the MRI and do spinal taps for giggles).

Now, we are told that faculty have “the right to exercise their judgement,” only not when it involves what composes the degree they’re participating in…actively.  Curricular changes forced on a community like a steam-roller (as, with an inside perspective, I can vouch that this Pathways Initiative is like some form of academic Eminent Domain), non-academics making those decisions – wow, it sounds a lot like local public education in America. Let’s have the non-educators decide who learns what and when.  After all, who needs history, literature, foreign language? (See this great post by Carceral Nation).  You can’t quantify them, therefore they must be useless.

Enjoy your degrees. Soon they’ll mean little more than “I was present for 4 years.”


Pot hole in CUNY’s Pathway to Nowhere

As the GC Advocate states:

On Friday, QCC  Vice President Karen Steele announced reprisals against the English faculty.

What has been a nightmare for CUNY faculty and staff over the past year or so is finally leaving the dream world and manifesting itself as reality.   Because faculty at one of the CUNY campuses have refused to change their curriculum to match the Pathways Program they are now threatened with the forced dismantling of their department, the non re-appointment of contingent, contractual workers and the possible firing of tenured or tenure track faculty members.

The email in question reads:

We will no longer be able to offer EN-101, 102, or 103 in their current configuration (i.e., four contact hours) as of Fall 2013. Since we don’t have in place courses that will meet the Pathways requirements for the Common Core, we can’t put forward a Fall 2013 schedule of classes that includes English Composition courses. Given that fact, and the resultant dramatic drop in enrollment, we will have to take the following actions:

  • All searches for full time faculty in the English Department will be cancelled immediately;
  • The existing EN 101, 102, and 103 will not be included in the common core, and therefore will not be offered in Fall 13;
  • Beginning March 2013 (our Fall 13 advisement cycle), continuing and new students will be advised to take the common core requirement for I A at another CUNY institution, since the courses will not be available at Queensborough;
  • Neither EN 101 or 103, nor EN 102 will be submitted to the University in the QCC list of ‘gateway’ courses for the English Major (we must submit the list of gateway major courses by October 1, 2012);
  • Of necessity, all adjunct faculty in the English department will be sent letters of non-reappointment for Fall 2013;
  • The reappointment of full time faculty in the English Department will be subject to ability to pay and Fall ’13 enrollment in department courses.

Check out, as well, Student Activism’s article (and this update) on the same embarrassment to higher education.   In brief, the Pathways program seeks to create a common set of credit hours across the curricula of multiple colleges that are part of the CUNY consortium.  In theory, this is to facilitate transfer of credit between campuses and equalize the degrees at all schools. However as many faculty have discovered, in practice this severely weakens the level of education available to students.  This is a prime example of the faculty, who know their student demographic better than the administrators, maintaining that the students are best served by a 4 (credit) hour course and not the new standard 3 hour course.

Apparently, the mission is no longer to educate students to the best of our ability.


Imposteur! …and the professorial Godthing

That’s right. Impostor.  Or maybe hack is the word.  They’re going to figure out soon that I don’t know anything!

I think it is more than safe to say every graduate student routinely believes that she or he is substandard, dumb, not capable. Why? Well, personally, I think there are a multitude of reasons. Chief among them, if we’ve ended up on the academic roller coaster, we read a lot, we put our professors on pedestals, we recognize how many smart people we speak with often.

Further, and here is where the Wiki god shed some light on the issue:

Impostor syndrome, sometimes called impostor phenomenon or fraud syndrome, is a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize their own accomplishments.

Well, I think we’ve just described every graduate student, ever. Are there impostors out there? Sure. Though, usually, I think, academic departments have these needling ways of wheedling out those who don’t belong – like discussion, paper writing, comprehensive examinations, oral examinations, proposals, dissertations.

We spend hours upon hours pouring over books, writing, reflecting, teaching. It’s all going somewhere. Do our professors know more than we do? Duh.

Are there people who know more than we do? Usually!

Do these two premises mean that the conclusion is we know nothing? Hardly!  We may not be senior scholars, but we also haven’t been professional scholars for 20 years yet. We cannot possibly know everything that they know — yet.  At the end of the day, Grad School Ninja sums it up appropriately:

What to do about imposter syndrome? Know that everyone is going through it and that, as such, many of your fellow students (and even some faculty) may go around puffed up like a peacock using words like “hermeneutics” and other jargon, or pretending that they have photographic memories, or that they never procrastinate, or whatever. Recognize those signs when you see them and try to have a bit of empathy for those nervously puffed up people. And take a deep breath and just keep going.

This doesn’t mean we should have egos bigger than our accomplishments – but it also doesn’t mean we should self-deprecate or self-negate. Recognize what you know.  Understand that there will always be things you don’t know. Isn’t that the irony of the “life of the mind?”  The more we learn, the more we see what there is to be learned.

The side note is about Professor-as-Godthing syndrome that we seem to cling to. Paired with this is often a slew of unhealthy projection. Our professors are human beings with lives — the majority of said lives do not involve us in any way. We have this unfortunate habit of projecting all of our insecurities and fears onto our professors, advisors, and role models.

I know, with only a few notable exceptions on rare occasion, that I do not go home and obsess over my students’ work, writings, projects.  I go home and do my own work, watch TV, visit with friends, meow back and forth with my cat, take walks &c.   Why on earth would we assume that our professors are doing something different?

Take a cue from the pros whom we fear are suspicious of us.  Just do your work and remember to recognize the work that you’re doing.  This was tested just recently.  I spoke with someone connected to my own field of research but not fully versed in what I do specifically; an academic in my field but not my specific area. You know what the conversation revealed? I knew what I was talking about and it didn’t involve grand standing or faking.

So! Feel like an impostor? Well, if you obsess over what you don’t know to the point of not furthering what you do know, then you’ll have a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Erm..Dr. X, if you’re reading my blog and keeping a balance sheet of every aspect of my life as I fear, I promise that amorphous chunk of writing I mumbled about when I rushed past you in the hall is coming!


Grading the horizon, accountability

The semester looms like some evil monster approaching through the fog. We can hear its roar of battle and our heartbeats accelerate into fight-or-flight, adrenaline starts pumping — or, in my case, I think “hibernate now, sleep. Get sleep.”

By now it’s clear that the Chronicle of Higher Education often provokes me into thought which then pours out here on my sinful road to intellectual perdition. A recent editorial in the Chronicle on the topic of grading caught my eye.  So, some mental salad about how to approach the dreaded topic with our students.

I think it is safe to say that the majority of us approach our students full of hope that we will successfully teach them something and that this will contribute to their over-all success. I know that I am elated when I see my students achieve or get past a hurdle. I also know that when I grade and I see them struggle or even fail, I personally begin to feel bad. My first move is to assess the problem: is it isolated to this student or is it across all the students?  If one student, is it a trend? If across all students: what did I fail to communicate and how can I improve and find a way to reach them that they will understand?

I hope we all do this. Scholars we may be, but educators we most definitely are required to be. I’ve heard a myriad of commentary from my professors as a graduate student ranging from: “Your research is paramount. Research is what we do. Your teaching is secondary. You must not let your teaching interfere with your research.”

To: “You will be hired to teach. They will assume your research is important to you. You must have good and demonstrable teaching skills because they’re going to hire you to fill a need. ”   I’m pretty sure (though you senior scholars out there will know best)  that the road is a combination of both. Since, usually we’re hired to deal with both areas of our career simultaneously and with aplomb if we’re hoping for that prized tenure line depending on the type of institution we end up working at.

Inside this process is grading. Students would prefer not to have to produce work. We’d often prefer not to have to grade that work. It can be a nasty situation on both ends.  Grading becomes even more tricky when we factor in what students expect and what ‘reality’ exists in the classroom.

We all explain the grading scale (some of us better than others) and how it breaks down into their work (or lack thereof).  This never cuts off the inevitable questions down the road, the confusion, the angst, resentment and arguing. Not one semester has gone by when I have not received a post-semester inquiry about a grade or a last-minute freak out.  I’d say this is true for all of us (if not, please share your secret).

For what it is worth, I try to explain during week 1 that an A does not mean you did your work and came to class. For those tasks, a C will be awarded. I explain that an A means you have exceeded expectations with some amount of distinction, gone the extra-mile, really devoted yourself to not just passing, but mastering, the content of the course.

This is often met with incredulous gasps of horror.

I’m not going to touch the reasons for this misconception of what an A is — not my area of education.  Their previous teachers from different levels of education work incredibly hard with scant respect from students, parents, and administration as it is.

What upsets me (actually physically and emotionally upsets me) are the situations that I’m going to go ahead and call emotional abuse. The article sums them up nicely. Things akin to: “I will lose my scholarship,”  “I will lose my financial aid,” “I will be barred from playing my sport, and then I won’t be able to afford school,”  “I will not get into my major.”  And the ultimate: “I will not graduate.” And the list goes on, and on, and on.

Ouch. Seriously. Logically, we all realize that we are not in control of the choices our students have made and that they must learn to manage their obligations academic, extra-curricular, and social.  But, we get the abuse nonetheless.  Thankfully, however, we do not have the level of parental interference (yet, it is increasingly more common that we do) that our colleagues in secondary education have.  I blatantly tell my students: I do not want to hear from your parents. Yes, you heard me. I do not want to hear from your parents short of an actual emergency situation where you are not able to speak for yourselves.  I then explain to them rationally that they are now in charge of their education. That I cannot actually, legally, speak to parents about student performance.  I use the big A word, accountability.  Conversely, I let them know that for all intents and purposes, I am a safe space for them. I’m not their friend, but if they need someone to talk to because something in their lives has become too much to manage on their own, they can come to me and I will help them find the resources through the school that they need.

So far, this tactic has worked nicely. No parent emails.

What also gets awkward, and I have encountered this at 2 institutions, is quiet department mandates that there should not be more than X students below X grade.  (Yikes, I thought this was college?)

Increasingly, however, I have students who are arguing B range grades. Not D.  Not C.  B range.  It was not so very long ago that I was an undergraduate. I considered a B a perfectly fine grade especially if I struggled with the topic.  I always shot for the A, but I also always knew what range my grade would be in before it was posted. I knew the caliber of my work as well as the course grading policy.

Students will always complain about grades. No surprise. Usually at the 18-21 age range they will also reduce anything difficult down to it being ‘stupid.’ I get that. I was incredibly grateful to see Ahmed Afzaal’s post (see above link) on our approach vs. their approach to grading.

This semester I will be starting off differently. I will cover the same points he covers in his article, reinforcing that we want to see them succeed, we do not look for reasons to punish them, and that grading is a tool to convey information about the level of their performance.

I think I might also ask them to not come to me with the doomsday proclamations I listed above, that in the end, it is unfair,uncomfortable, and ultimately, as the Vicomte de Valmont said, “ce n’est pas de ma faute.”

If you’ve had success in warding off the messiness of student grade confusion, stories of harrowing grade negotiating, or fool-proof methods, share with the group!


How the American University was killed, by Homelessadjunct

An incisive view on what for many of us is an urgent and very real concern.

The Homeless Adjunct

A few years back, Paul E. Lingenfelter began his report on the defunding of public education by saying, “In 1920 H.G. Wells wrote, ‘History is becoming more and more a race between education and catastrophe.’ I think he got it right. Nothing is more important to the future of the United States and the world than the breadth and effectiveness of education, especially of higher education. I say especially higher education, but not because pre- school, elementary, and secondary education are less important. Success at every level of education obviously depends on what has gone before. But for better or worse, the quality of postsecondary education and research affects the quality and effectiveness of education at every level.”

In the last few years, conversations have been growing like gathering storm clouds about the ways in which our universities are failing. There is talk about the poor educational outcomes apparent in…

View original post 4,142 more words


Learn for me; it’s what I pay you for

…or, content aside, I try to teach “how not to fail at life,” concurrently.

It’s too early for this, far too early. But, I just can’t help it. Reading through many academic blogs, both current posts and past, one of my soap-box themes comes up often: student entitlement. We know I’m no stranger to this rant (See my previous post on effrontery).

I understand that there is a larger question of our society, its values (or sometimes lack thereof where education is concerned), consumerism, throw away society — the list of ‘woes’ and ills could go on forever.

When I greet my bright-faced, nervous, wide-eyed first year college students every fall, I’m astounded by how much of an assumption there is about what exactly my job is (and it’s really not their fault).

The common presumptions are: 1) I “work” for them.  2) My job is to make their life easier.  3) I have nothing else to do with my time other than waiting at my keyboard like a telephone operator to answer their last minute questions. 4) My purpose in life is to accommodate all of the hiccups in their week.

They arrive with a paucity of study skills, problem solving skills, and information gathering skills.  Now, I am not talking about the high-level critical thinking and research skills we expect out of a junior or senior. I’m talking about “I don’t know what this is” syndrome and the missing ability to take the next step — which gets misinterpreted as “ask him, he’ll know the answer.”

I am not so misanthropic that I cannot understand the developmental stage they’re all going through. Some advanced skills are very new to them. That’s cool. It’s one of the actual reasons I’m in the class room.

What rankles me is the refusal to do the basic skills work that is required. Students would always ask me for a study guide for each chapter of (in these instances) language classes. Now, I understand that a language can be a big amorphous beast to a novice learner. (As an aside, language textbooks are generally organized [with notable exceptions] into things like ‘vocabulary,’ ‘structures/grammar,’ ‘culture). Pithy as I thought I was at the beginning of my teaching career, I would answer:  “Why, Johnny, you already have a study guide! It’s that 250 page hard thing on your desk. It has a tell-all section called the ‘table of contents’ and a magical, top-secret decoder section called an ‘index.”

This did not go over well, clearly.

To my chagrin and great personal embarrassment, I came to understand that they hadn’t the first clue how to use a textbook (let alone an academic book or monograph).  This is when I adjusted my first day lesson to both cover some basic first class content and basic life skills.   We begin with a ‘how to use the textbook, similar features found across the genre’ talk — it’s very total physical response and task-based learning (for all the pedagogy wonks).   This is accompanied by a list of if-then scenarios. There’s even a document on blackboard and a hand out  (None of which they take notes on or consult, as evinced by the series of emails I continuously get all semester long).

This birthed the next phenomenon I still often encounter: “give me the answer,” often paired with: “I didn’t know what that was, so I just stopped reading.”  So, I introduced a short talk on the God of Google: finding out things quickly to aid your learning process.  I explain to them that when they run into a name, a word, a reference, a concept, anything that they do not know, we are blessed to live and learn in the 21st century. The interwebs hold basically all of human knowledge up to this point. I patiently philosophize that as college students, part of their task is to seek out things they don’t know so they can contextualize. This is almost always met with 1) eye-rolling, 2) incredulous blinking 3) much whining.

(I feel the need for another aside here: At this point, I sound like a colossal asshole. I promise, my students actually adore my classes because I respect them as people and make whatever I’m teaching as involved, energetic and engaging as possible. These are just the ‘oh my GOD, you’re killing me!’ thoughts I stifle in their presence)

What really gets my goat is when I realize that I am being paid (on paper) to teach a specific subject to my students, to prepare them for the next level of the subject, to teach them how this subject can and does fit into the larger picture of their overall studies but what I am expected to do is raise them all to the same level of ground-level functionality while teaching them content. Curricular juggling ensues.

When I really feel downtrodden is when I take a moment to explain something briefly and how it is relevant to other areas of their lives. One student, just this past summer said to me (and the entire class): “Jeez, if you were teaching a class on that, I’d be so bored I wouldn’t know what to do. I’d probably just sleep.”

I smiled tersely.

Where is this heading? You’ve all guessed it.  The romantic notion of liberal arts that we all still cling to but which is nowhere to be found. (Thank you romanticism, you’ve ruined us all).

I’ve given impassioned talks about the joy of learning and how it is actually useful in a way that is not always quantifiable. That all of these subjects you learn at a university that seem ‘useless’ are engaged in forming your mind, honing your thinking and problem solving skills, exposing you to the way it was done in the past (and all the innovations, landmarks, and errors therein) to produce a human being who can reason, who can step into a situation and say “I can solve this problem.”   Very large and dramatic eye-rolling, snorting and hoots of “That’s dumb” heralded their opinions.

Like, understanding the world is boring and hard, yo.

Again, I’m not a rube. You can’t put that on your résumé in today’s job market. Liberal arts has taken one for the team — we now must demonstrate clearly the practical, marketable application of everything we teach, or suffer losing our jobs (see CUNY’s Pathways initiative).

Sometimes though, I claim a pyrrhic victory. When they write to me about something that is logistical, I gleefully respond: “You’re industrious. I’m sure you’ll figure it out with some reflection.”

In the end, I make a compromise between sticking to my guns and bending to their will.  When they bleat pathetically for a study guide, I force them to make it (interjecting here or there when they falter).  I remind them to look in the index for something or I tell them ‘how to find it.’

I won’t stop giving my speech about why we do study the liberal arts. It’s my personal conceit. I will continue to hold out hope that some of them will believe it, that some of them will discover why the liberal arts are important through their own growing process.  I dare to hope that even some of them will repeat it to others.

The next Roland Barthes should grace us with a “Death of the Arts” essay.  For now, I consider our current culture to be a war on humanity’s past.  I can’t make my classroom a battle field; I cannot ethically propagandize my own belief.  But, I can take five minutes a semester to tell them why what they are forced to study is important to their lives.


Bilan, the balance sheet (or the profane)

Having perused one of the more recent Chronicle articles on stress and productivity, I’ve been reflecting on August being fully underway.  It’s the time of the balance sheet for those of us who kept saying, “Bah! This summer will be a wonderland of academic production!” 

I have by no means achieved herculean levels of labor. Though, I am pleased to report (to myself) that I have made progress that falls under the category of “not too shabby,” rested and brought my work to a new level.

Essentially, this topic is à l’esprit for most of us during this time of the year since we’ve spent most of the teaching part of the year looking forward to our “great summer of working.”  Sighing longingly through the stretching semesters, we dream of the uninterrupted (read: no students) months where we decide our wake-up time as we like, can read leisurely all day if we like, and fold ourselves in front of our favorite computer to tap diligently at the keys, pouring our most profound academic reflections onto the Great White Page.

Similarly, we tend to view the long-weekend and the short holiday breaks as sacred working time. Yet, I will confess, at least, that during these shorter ‘breaks,’ I’m so exhausted from an over-loaded teaching schedule that not a whole lot more than netflix, sleeping, and grading gets accomplished. I also make a pretty convincing argument to myself during these times to justify my avoidance of all things academic.

If we take a look at the ledger, how many of us get all this work done that we day-dreamed about in a grass-is-greener type way during the academic year?  As I said, I know during the short breaks I rarely accomplish anything unstructured without a deadline looming.

This is where (and yes, it’s a cliché, but a damned good one ) Paul Silvia’s book about being a productive little academic worker very much revolutionized my perception of what it is I do (or am supposed to do).  Essentially, it’s a self-help book for academics. But, if you haven’t read this book and are considering reading it, don’t expect a session of care and concern for your well-being.

Instead, Silvia lords his own work record over our heads (because, in the end, no matter what other lies we tell ourselves, we all know that academia is not very different from any other corporate structure these days. Money talks. Competition (healthy and unhealthy) thrives. Colleagues are annoying. But, we do get to set our hours, for the most part – it only took 3 degrees and mountains of money to get there).  He lists all the common (voiced and unvoiced) objections that we cry in dismay, all the ‘plans’ we come up with for ourselves and deftly finds the flaws in the logic as we’d do with our own students. It’s almost like he’s reading our thoughts (tricksy psychologist that he is).

In the end, you can reduce his lesson to the following: stop whining, stop procrastinating and schedule your ‘real’ work like you schedule your classes. Adhere to one as you would the other.   He says,

“As an academic…you’re a professional writer, just as you’re a professional teacher. Treat your scheduled writing time like your scheduled teaching time. Say no to well-intentioned intruders, and explain why you can’t (not won’t, but can’t) break your committed writing time. If you feel bad about saying no, then lie. If you feel bad about lying, then use the obscurantism you learned in grad school: Claim a “recurring intractable obligation.”

His sermon on the Sacred Writing Time is not without its humor and levity but the weight of his point resounds: schedule your work, get it done and stop making excuses: we all know the excuses.  I heartily recommend this for all graduate students — and anyone else who has large projects waiting to be completed. 

Of interest, I found that this program, Omm writer,  allowed me to increase my  amount of words that end up on the page (even just for reflecting on ideas and readings Note: it’s very much an aesthetic program and all sound effects can be muted) as one of his secrets is to not engage the rest of the world when you’re working.  Equally, Scrivener has revolutionized my approach to writing and is advised for large project management (such as the dreaded D-word or books).

The tools are there. I can attest to the efficaciousness; my productivity is up with the trifecta of the book and these two cheap (at least on a Mac) programs.

A renewed outlook (and wrist-slapping by Silvia) didn’t hurt either.

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Edit: I forgot to include a great resource from a fellow academic writing savvy blogger: Dailychicana’s resource page is great.


ef-fron-ter-y

[ihfruhn-tuh-ree]
noun, plural ef-fron-ter-ies.

1.  shameless or impudent boldness; barefaced audacity: She had the effrontery to ask for two free samples.

2. an act or instance of this.

Origin:

1705-15; < French effronterie, equivalent to Old French esfront shameless (es-exfront brow; see front) + -erie -ery

Synonyms
1. impertinence, impudence, cheek.

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Many of us will be familiar, and indeed may be mulling over this word or its comrade-in-arms synonyms during this hectic time of calculation and notation. This morning, I awoke to a cheeky communiqué from a student exemplifying the meaning of this word. I have decided to reproduce the thrust of the message without its form, much like a translation. It should not take me aback, as they say. But as the dictionary confirms, the absolute  barefaced audacity threw me through a loop.

Hello title, 

This morning I looked at my grades and I see that I have a grade in subject. As of today, my cumulative GPA is number-point-numbers. I want to be on the Generic Honor Group and I would need a higher-number-than-I-have. Can you raise my grade to include decimal point-difference-number? 

Sincerely, me. 
sent from my ipad.

* * *

Well shoot, I was really, really hoping that you were insincere on this one. In fact, I was banking that you were facetious. I confess. I blinked a few times. I pet the cat. I went back to the kitchen to pour some coffee. Clearly, I was not expecting this. But, what was it precisely that I was not expecting? I’d like to think that I am not a rube. Students will always try to negotiate their grades – I don’t see this changing in the future, ever. Still…something about this message struck me. This message was different than the other messages I have received over the years.  What was it that marked this message as not belonging to the group? Ah, well, that would be the effrontery.  I would say most students have some sense of propriety, even if they often seem audacious by our standards. Usually, there is a negotiation involved in grade lamentation, non?  Something to the effect of:

Dear Herr God Doctor Professor, I saw my grade and I [woe-inspired appeal to your pity]. Is there any way I can [random request to produce more work after the semester ends] so that you can [give me an unfair advantage over my cohorts]?  [Shameless, desperate closing].  

I’m used to this type of request – I think it is safe to say we’re all used to this type of request. And, of course, circumstances mitigate our responses. Was there a traumatic event we’re aware of? Does this student deserve the benefit of the doubt? Sometimes, the answer is yes and we arrange for something, change the grading scale, remove assignments, add assignments. This is usually to keep the student from failing when life got in the way but they really did do their best to overcome it.

This instance is akin to elective surgery; to vanity purchases. This isn’t a matter of life or death, that is, of failing. This is an appeal to make one’s self look better. I was honestly embarrassed when reading. Not because a student shamelessly begged (though, there was no actual begging here, hence the label of effrontery). But because it was a baldfaced request to give me what I want.

No justification. No reasoning. No offering. Simply, give me what I want.

What disturbs me most? The seeming unawareness of the impropriety of the request – no indication that the student understands that such a request is 1) absolutely out of the question, and 2) brazenly inappropriate. How did I respond? I wanted to write an impassioned, three page letter about responsibility, obligation, results, behavior, rigor and the future. Instead, I wrote two emotionless lines:
Your grade is a product of the work produced and not something assigned. I cannot give you any grade but what you earned.

Students wanting better grades than what they earn is not new, not interesting, and in no way unique. What simultaneously disturbs me and makes me very tired is the lack of effort in the appeal itself.

I begin each semester with a talk about how a grade is calculated, preciesly what the weights are with a caveat that only the student can determine her or his final outcome. Apparently, this is not clear enough. What can we possibly do to curb this type of behavior? Do any of you have a fool-proof technique?

For now, I will be writing dictionary.com to ask for an example change in the definition.

1.  shameless or impudent boldness; barefaced audacity: She had the effrontery to ask for a grade she did not earn.


Sacred Cows

…and other reductive conclusions.

Now that the better part of a week has passed since the Chronicle of Higher Education made the decision to discontinue Naomi Schaefer Riley’s blog pieces, I decided to do a quick web survey to see what was being generated surrounding the issue. Several key terms have appeared in conjunction with the brouhaha.

I have several personal favorites:

  • Witch hunt
  • Mob
  • Sacred Cow

The general gist of the criticism is that the editorial staff of the CHE capitulated to a bunch of incensed scholars who cried foul and pointed the clichéd finger of racism accusations because we disagreed with Ms. Riley.  Before moving on, I think it is important to first tentatively affirm that indeed – we screamed loudly and demanded that her time at the Chronicle come to an end. Yet, what I find most common is the misrepresentation of the reason we so vociferously demanded that her column  be guillotined.

The readership was angered by multiple things. Chief among the grievances, I think, is her manner of making her point: her opinion is largely uninformed. I have noticed that the vast majority of NSR’s work (I could not avoid reading her work and listening to her interviews) is actually comprised of hasty conclusions based in imprecise and elusive information gathering. (For an example see this  interview on CSPAN in which she discusses one of her books and the “problems” with the higher education system). I have noticed that like the great temptation, she couches her more biased attacks in legitimate criticism. Many of the points she makes about the problems within higher education are indeed largely recognized by the masses – yet, Riley derails when she begins to draw her conclusions for reform. Her main claim to argumentative probity? My father is a professor.  I will admit, I am personally split on the issue of research and tenure. In the humanities, I know I do not stand alone when I assert that we often have researched ourselves into obscure, often unpublishable, corners. Tenure becomes more rare; book publications harder to achieve. Do we need to rethink the model? Absolutely. Do we need to drop tenure? I’d be hard pressed to agree here. Should we stop researching highly specialized things? Absolutely not.

The point she seems to return to is that our research is “obscurantist.”  (A poor choice of words – what are we hiding? in the Derrida-Foucault bickering, Foucault accuses Derrida of this as a means of saying that the argument is so obscure so as to hide its failings, allowing the author to call the opponent an idiot for not understanding) Yet, how is this a problem? I think we can all agree that our research is to further the conversation, to challenge and push how and what we think, to promote further examination and analysis. This has nothing and everything to do with undergraduate education. The extreme focus of our doctoral education and research is a proving ground for original scholarship. Do we write for our peers and not our students? Yes. Yet, in deepening our knowledge, the goal, as I practice it, is to reduce these topics down to broad swaths (some more specific than others) for our undergraduates. We stay current in the field, its advances and its setbacks. The more we continuously learn, the more we continuously can bring to the classroom.

Several bloggers, academics, and “news” sources falling on the other side of the equation have accused the readership of the Chronicle of over reacting when one of its “sacred cows” was attacked (I highly encourage all readers to google NSRs name with “fired” after it). The majority of negative criticism has proven to be as reductive as Riley’s own reasoning. This reader did not protest because she attacked Black Studies. As far as I am concerned, the entirety of the academy is open to criticism (our own system of checks and balances, no?) It was the blatantly offensive manner in which she chose to make her argument. She is a hostile blogger in a sea of those she wishes to provoke. For my paltry subscription fee as a graduate student, I demand that what I read is of a certain standard, that when an argument is presented it is informed. What Riley offered was not up to the standards of the audience she writes for. If there is a sacred cow being defended here, it is not an area study. Rather, it is the practice and method we keep.

I invite you, if you have not yet done so, to read her eye-witness response in the Wall Street Journal, in which she defends herself against accusations of being uninformed:

I have been a journalist writing about higher education for close to 15 years now, having visited dozens of colleges and universities and interviewed hundreds of faculty, students and administrators. My work has been published in every major newspaper in the country, most often this one, and I have written two widely reviewed books on higher education as well.

Though it should be self-evident, none of this means that Riley is 1) actually a scholar, 2) conversant in the field of Black Studies 3) well-researched. She leaves out the telling information! Two widely reviewed books..by whom?  I’ve already started reading them – they don’t pass muster.

The most amusing part of the fallout is the demonstrations of ad hominem attacks the commentators resort to: “flowery academics,” “whining scholars,” “witch hunting on behalf of our sacred cows,” among others. I’d invite any readers to submit all of the fallacious attacks they find.

For now, I’m going to print out what I find, including her articles, as teaching tools for my students on how not to make a point.