Anonymous Professor Prepares for Thanksgiving

 

Note: Any resemblance to real persons live or dead may be a coincidence.  

The Thanksgiving holiday looms large on the horizon. I finally returned one batch of midterm papers to my freshman class. I still haven’t graded my senior undergraduate and graduate students’ papers. Luckily, there are only twenty-one students in that class, and I can count on five of the undergrads turning in their papers late. For each day that the paper is late, the paper is docked one grade point. He might have received an A (haha), but since his paper will be late, the highest grade he’ll receive will be a B.  Nobody writes a perfect paper in my classes anyway (except for the butt kissers), so my conscience is clear concerning the less fortunate.  The best anyone can really hope for is a B, so that late paper receives a C. Of course, I touch my pen to the paper, make light lines under certain phrases, and write cryptic notes at the bottom of the paper so that students believe that I actually read their papers.

My favorite comment is “This seems a bit vague. Could you be more specific?” or “What about [illegible]?" Of course, the student has no idea what I mean because the comment is written at the bottom of the page and references nothing specific within the paper.

Any student can come to my office to discuss a paper and my comments, but he must enter his date onto a calendar to set an appointment. Most students who sign up forget to come, so my weekly student conference hours are pretty stress-free.

I get a kick out of the graduate students’ bullsh*t. Some send me emails telling me that they cannot attend the last class before Thanksgiving. Then they tell me that they’ll just push their papers under my door. They learn pretty quickly that they can’t just slip it under my door. I got sick of that nonsense years ago, so I installed a rubber door sweep on the inside of my door that makes it impossible for anyone to push his tripe under my door. If he attaches it to my door with tape, I just tell him that I didn’t receive the paper. It probably fell off and the janitor canned it. It comes as a shock when Hollee receives a D for the semester’s final grade (if I feel generous) because she failed to deliver her paper in class.

Then there are the somewhat smarter ones who go to the department secretary to try to deliver their papers to my faculty mail box. That doesn’t work either. Years ago, the department secretary (who ran off after one semester) decided to verify every teacher’s public and private email address. I didn’t put my name or email address on the paper that was circulated among the teachers because all she had to do was to look in the faculty directory for my official university email address. Nobody needs to know my private email address.

Once, a newly hired secretary decided to battle the chaos of the mail room, so she ordered nice plastic name plates for the teachers’ cubbyhole mail boxes. She used the email memorandum as a guide to the mailbox layout. My refusal to put my name and email addresses on the paper resulted in the secretary’s failure to order a name plate for my mailbox, so I didn’t get a mailbox that term. Consequently, I didn’t get any notifications of committee meetings. I didn’t get notifications of any sort. (That was a good thing). If I have to attend a faculty meeting, someone has to tell me in person. Otherwise, I know nothing about those time-wasters.

Once, to preempt criticism of my perceived laziness, I complained that I wasn’t getting any communication from the department chair. There was an investigation. TA DA! Somebody figured out that I had no mailbox. Rather than pry off everyone’s name plate from half of the cubbyholes to alphabetize the mail boxes, I told the secretary to just assign me a box on the other side of the mail room. The only available cubbyhole was located way at the top where nobody can reach, much less see. Now, when a student tries to deliver a paper to my faculty mailbox, he’s directed to a box that bears no name in a place where it looks as though nothing is ever delivered because all the cubbyhole ever collects is dust. Result: no student papers are left in my faculty mail box.

Since graduate assistants and teachers’ assistants are allowed to eat in the enclosed teachers’ side of the cafeteria, I avoid the cafeteria during the last week of the semester. That thwarts the ambushes from graduate students. The janitor gave me an entry key to the exit-only door at the end of the hall where my office is located, so I can avoid not only other faculty but also the department chair when I come in in the morning. If I’m lucky, I’ll fade into obscurity as everything else does in this department if nobody sees or mentions it for a long time. That would be wonderful as long as the university continues to direct-deposit my pay check to my bank account.

I’ve got to work on creating a final exam for a horrible undergraduate class. It’s almost lunch time. Maybe I’ll lock my door, pull down the shades, and take a nap on the couch.