glad me with its soft black eye

[freckles_and_doubt]

One of the most difficult parts of this job for me is having to tell students that they've been excluded from the faculty on academic grounds - i.e. they're not passing enough courses to be allowed to continue. This week I've seen several students who were excluded at the end of last year, have successfully appealed for readmission, but have had a disastrous first semester and have thus fallen foul of the provisional re-admission probation period. They are now outy out out, no further appeals; two of them hadn't seen the letter which informed them of this fact, and enlivened the day by bursting into tears at my desk when I enlightened them.

I hate this. My fundamental impulse, and the fundamental rationale behind this job, is to make students happy. But we run into the problem where undergrads have a wistful, naive, utopian belief, in blatant disregard of the evidence, that they can pass these courses, because it's so important for them to do so. They can't believe that it might be in their own best interests for the faculty to step in and prevent them from repeatedly beating their heads against an academic brick wall that they have only the most fractional chance of scaling. You tell a student "You're extremely likely to fail, we're saving you the time and money", and s/he retaliates with "But I know I can pass" and "You won't even give me the chance!" Um, no, you won't, and we won't. Statistics say we're not doing you any favours by doing so.

Statistics, unfortunately, are distant and unreal compared to the urgent emotional demands of the individual case. And while to many of them a university degree is talismanic, the magical bit of paper which will miraculously elevate them from, in many cases, considerable poverty and disadvantage, there's a grain of truth to the symbol. Their lives would be immeasurably better if they could pull off a degree - in many cases, they would be ratcheting themselves into the middle class more or less with their bare hands. This is their last chance at this high-status institution, and a particular door is closing in their face, leaving them confronting the notice that says, bleakly, in subtext, "YOU WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH". However legitimate the exclusion, I hate to feel as though I'm the one closing it.

This kind of thing adds a certain emotional drain to Hellweek, which is exhausting enough that I'm a bit miffed to discover the new update on the swine 'flu scare. The infected student wasn't actually one of the ones I saw, she saw another advisor, who has been booked off work for the rest of the week as a result. Frankly, I'm jealous, a few days in bed sounds heavenly. I'm exhausted. Additionally so because I spent a slightly demented night climbing through the windows of a giant castle-like structure which was owned either by Neil Gaiman or Stephen King, while dodging (for some reason) pirates, and what I think may have been a possessed tea-chest, while also trying to entertain hordes of LARPers who kept wandering in to visit. As a symbolic dream-encapsulation of my life this week it ain't far wrong.

P.S. and if anyone actually works out the labyrinthine connections in my subject line, first go and without recourse to google, mad props. Occasionally intertextuality gets the better of me.

Comments

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

This is their last chance at this high-status institution, and a particular door is closing in their face,

That has got to be the worst job I have heard of in a long time. My sympathies.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It's pretty sucky, because in general my job requires ongoing empathy with students and it's difficult to turn it off at will and harden myself to rub their noses in their defeat. I usually end up near tears myself, particularly if they're all disbelieving and make me repeat it over and over again. Which, come to think of it, most of them do. No wonder I'm buggered.

[khoi-boi.livejournal.com]

Pish, woman, I know my Irish poets...

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

That's not a labyrinthine connection, that's identification of the top layer of reference. Pray proceed with the unwrapping.

As to Mr. Moore, you probably know more about him than I do. His wistful dear gazelle bit always annoyed me, I far prefer the buttered toast parody.

[tngr-spacecadet.livejournal.com]

The library has finally provided me with a long-awaited copy of The Margarets by Sheri Tepper. I am loving the part where the "non-discriminatory" education system is described. Discriminating against students just because they are less bright or possibly even lazy? Pah.

[starmadeshadow.livejournal.com]

I have had to do a very little of the dealing with students who will not be allowed back next year, and it is unutterably draining and depressing. I wish you many friends to supply you with G&Ts, good conversation and lovely food over the weekend.

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

What do you call a blind doe?

[khoi-boi.livejournal.com]

mmm, nope, got me there. I votes James Joyce.

I mostly know Moore through Joyce's use of him, although I believe (and here, sadly, I turn to Google) others do the same-including...mmm...one Rev. Dodgson!

Have we been googling pics of young master Depp, late a pirate, as the Mad Hatter, by any chance?