Monday, January 23

suggestions for the new and aspiring dean

I got wind of a senior level faculty member who has been outed for his deanship desires. Despite claims he’d rather swab bathroom floors and sort used Kleenexes from bins designated for recycling, it occurs to me that deans come from somewhere and usually from among the faculty ranks. Whether deans start out as dicks or just become that way is not for me to say. However, I can envision how a mild-mannered, cat-fearing, non-grizzled professor might subconsciously lay the path for his own ascendancy. Because that trail is well-marked, I offer ideas about steps to follow once the name plate has been changed on the doorway to the nicest office in the building.

teaching assignment lottery
Next semester, one course from each faculty member’s load will be changed. You will not have a role in choosing which of your favored courses is reassigned. Instead, I will select the class, write the name on a slip of paper, put it inside a plastic easter egg, and place it among all the other eggs in a bingo cage. At the designated hour, I will call your name and you will draw an egg that identifies your new course assignment. You are NOT to replicate the way the course has always been taught. You must do it differently and you must do it better. If you aren’t smart enough to figure out how to lead students to learn the material, then you’re too stupid to remain in our department, college or school. Should you decline, your office will be changed to a regional campus housed within a 24-hour convenience store.

keep your old shit at home
You will no longer be permitted to store stuff at school that won’t fit in your home. This includes unread books, recycled heating devices (e.g., microwaves and coffee pot), demonstration materials (esp. old bicycle wheels and decrepit wind-up toys), and/or various kitchen, rumpus room or garage cast-offs. This is a professional building, not a storage shed to hide stuff from your spouse, partner or parents. We will be entering offices to clear them of these contents according to this schedule:
  • Monday: videotapes and cassette tapes
  • Tuesday: poster boards, butcher paper, etc. that depict “notes” from a class.
  • Wednesday: boots, sweaters, socks, running attire.
  • Thursday: tea bags, granola bars, Laffy Taffy and other disgusting sugary treats.
  • Friday: dissertations, theses, handbooks, encyclopedias.
distribution of desktop speakers
Every faculty member will receive a pair of high quality desktop speakers through which background music should be played. The volume should be adjusted to drown distracting noises (e.g., the sounds of old man Coolidge’s shit going into the dumpster or inane undergraduate phone calls to their mothers) and so when you have a visitor, they can detect the genre if not the artist. You can listen to anything you want to with the following provisions:
  1. Odd numbered days: each song must include a harmonica, accordion, Tuva throat singing, pedal guitar or glockenspiel.
  2. Even numbered days: playlists consisting of Jethro Tull, Frank Turner, The Corin Tucker Band, Little Feat, Black Dub, Steve Earle, Gillian Welch, Charles Mingus, and Lyle Lovett. No, you may not play Journey -- ever!
future changes
More adjustments are forthcoming. If you say or do something idiotic, I'm gonna make a rule about that. Be on your guard and make sure you haven't abandoned something in the office refrigerator with your name on it.