Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones...

In the past I have written a similar blog with a similar theme, but it occurs to me to write something similar again.

(You can tell, it’s gonna be similar).

After the turn of the current century, I was privileged to serve several years in the capacity of adjunct professor at my alma mater, Southeastern University. Its “neither here nor there” in terms of this story, but I initially attended there in the late 60’s, when it bore the moniker, “Southeastern Bible College.” And I procured a part-time custodial job at the school to help pay my tuition. I will always remember those “ivory thrones” in the men’s dormitory. These were “the good old days,” mind you, and I kid you not, the “necessary seats” were lined up, three abreast, two foot apart, and not the hint of a partition between them! (However, I might quickly add. The women’s “thrones” were, thankfully, separated by fiber board dividers).

I once wrote a story which alluded to the two positions I held at the school, separated by a full four decades, titled, “The Little Janitor Finally Got Promoted.” I’m unaware of any other person who ever held such a dubious “distinction” as this, there.

At any rate, SEU, (the current abbreviation for my beloved school) requires its students to submit an anonymous end of course evaluation rating numerous variables, including the instructor’s pose, preparation and presentation. Adjunct faculty generally fare a bit more poorly in terms of numerical ratings and comments, but this is to be expected since they are part-time employees, are generally retired or hold a fulltime position elsewhere, and (drum roll, please) are paid about one quarter the rate of tenured professors, on a per course basis.

But returning momentarily to the topic of end of course evaluations. My students’ reviews were generally no better, nor any worse than the majority of my adjunct compatriots.

But there was this one which nearly drove me to distraction and brought me, oh so close, to “giving it all back to them.”

I have long since forgotten whether I merited much more than a “big goose egg” on my numerical scores, but as long as I continue to breathe in and out, I will always remember this student’s especially abrasive comment.

… “Your class is a… JOKE!”

There is an old adage which the children of my generation, (for no apparent reason) used to chant:

“Sticks and stones may break my bones. But words will never hurt me.”

… Well, I don’t know about that.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 8