Bureau-Speak on a Friday Afternoon

Yesterday, I was forced to endure another yet another new faculty training session. The topic: Effective Advising. During this 90-minute session that started at 1:30 on Friday afternoon, I joined three of my fellow social science colleagues to learn more about the convoluted, overly complicated college policies designed to prepare students to be functioning members of society. OK, "learn" might be an overstatement. We were bombarded with lots of acronyms, numbers and requirements with multiple exceptions. The only thing I took away from this session is a renewed appreciation for clear and understandable explanations.

Here's my best re-creation of the workshop: "A student can use Spanish 1101 to fulfill a CPC but if he or she uses it to fulfill a CPC, he or she can't use it toward the core. He or she will have to choose another elective from Area F, but can't choose an elective if he or she needs Learning Support. He or she must pass the Learning Support classes before he or she can register for 1000-level classes in any area. He or she also needs to fulfill the Legislative Requirements by passing specific classes in Area E..." At that point, my head exploded.

As the presenter droned on about areas and levels and a bunch of other bureau-speak gobbledy-gook, I turned my attention to the other people in the room. I realized that I was the only faculty member who did not have a distinct accent. I was also the only female faculty member. There was the prof from Turkey who teaches American government, the Korean prof who teaches US criminal justice classes, and the Dane who teaches world history but yearns to teach Middle East history. I felt so, so . . . ordinary. I didn't have a cool accent, and I was an American teaching American history. Bo-ring! To entertain myself, I started speaking in a thicker southern accent and declared that I was going to start teaching South American literature classes. Only the Dane was amused.

After the session, the Dane and I walked back to our offices on the outskirts of campus. We both agreed that we were now well-equipped to lead any number of students terribly astray on their path to graduation.

Adventures in Moving, Part I

It's done. I signed the papers on Wednesday and it's done. I'm a homeowner. It's a bit surreal since I'm still living in my apartment. In the great real estate fruit basket turnover, I'm waiting until the current (past?) homeowners are able to move into their next house. So, I'm a landlord. Very surreal. I'm anxious to move in, so I have to keep reminding myself that it works better for me to wait since I have a lighter teaching week in mid-October. I'll move in on October 22. I've booked the movers, I've arranged to get utilities transfered, and I'm packing boxes. Forward progress is being made.

The packing chaos reached into my home office today. Remember when it looked like this in May?

Here it is today:

Yes, all those boxes are full of books. My and my damn book compulsion. Why couldn't I collect something lighter, like feathers or bubble wrap? I trust that I'll turn a corner at some point and my work will look less like a chaotic mess and look more like a highly organized model of efficient moving. This view looks a little better - at least there's some evidence of change over time:

The bedroom is the only room that remains unscathed. It's next.