Month: September 2018

The Chronicle of Higher Education reports that next fall the University of Pennsylvania will become the first Ivy League school to offer an online bachelor’s degree. 

Take a minute.  Let that sentence sink in. 

Ivy.  League.

Wait, there’s more.  The program will include a residency requirement that consists of a writing course “designed to be completed over a weekend” (no joke).  According to Penn officials, the compressed weekend format will necessitate that student papers be limited to one-syllable words that begin with letters in the first half of the alphabet (A through M).  Students who wish to develop multi-syllable proficiency, and become familiar with N through Z words, will be eligible to enroll in the school’s online MFA Program in Creative Writing, which will commence in Fall 2020.

The Penn bachelor’s program will provide individualized, online graduation ceremonies for all students, broadcast from an Elvis wedding chapel in Las Vegas, where an Associate Provost will be available 24 hours a day. 

Diplomas, delivered to recipients via drones, will be “Currency Green” in color, signifying the win-win nature of the program:

—  Students will save money because online course tuition is lower than on-campus tuition

—  Penn will make lots of money due to overall growth in the number of students enrolled at the University

How valuable will these online degrees actually be to those who obtain them?  “That remains to be seen,” observes a high-ranking Penn administrator who wishes to remain anonymous.  “But the intrinsic gratification one derives from having an Ivy League credential should never be underestimated, even if that pride doesn’t necessarily translate into enhanced earnings.  You just feel better about yourself.  Showing your Penn diploma to a co-worker at Jiffy Lube who dropped out of high school is certain to provide one with an opioid rush that you can’t put a price tag on.”

Step aside, Philly Cheese Steak, there’s a new taste in town.  The UPenn online bachelor’s program is in the house. 

 

 

 

Plagiarism continues to afflict higher education, and the stakes are getting bigger.  We need to look no further than The North Star State. 

Minnesota abolished its death penalty in 1911, but in 2017 reinstated the punishment only for the crime of plagiarism.  Following that decision, in February 2018, prison officials tied a sophomore from Carleton College to a pair of northern pike and “permanently submerged” him under the crust of Lake of the Woods, a premier ice-fishing destination at the Minnesota-Canadian border.  The young man had been convicted of presenting the work of Peanuts cartoonist Charles Schulz as his own in a Political Science term paper on former U.S. Department of Labor Secretary George Shultz.  “It was the Scotch tape around the edges of the drawings on pages 23 and 24 of the paper that tipped us off,” says Dwayne Gassick, Chief of Police in Northfield, Minnesota.  “We put our forensics people on the case, and they cracked it within a week.”

Widespread protests after the execution, led by the Land O’Lakes chapter of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Northern Pike, prompted the state legislature to consult with Turnitin, a leading commercial provider of Internet-based plagiarism detection services.  The result: in 2019, Minnesota will introduce TurnYourselfIn (TYI), a collaborative venture of Turnitin and the Minnesota State Police.  The logistics are simple:

Students will submit online drafts of their work to TYI.  If plagiarism is detected, the student will have 10 business days to go to the nearest police department and plead guilty to a misdemeanor.  First offenders will be sentenced to spending all of Thanksgiving Day with their families, including Great-Aunt Berit, who is fond of smothering hugs, sloppy kisses, and deodorant that fails to compensate for her infrequent bathing.  Repeat offenders will spend Spring Break with Berit and Mr. Fritz, her gentleman friend, in their Coachmen motor home, watching their favorite assisted-living curling team, the Hibbing Hot Brooms, compete in the World Cup on ESPN.   

Plagiarists who do not turn themselves in, but are subsequently arrested for any offense, will be submerged.  As Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton asserts, “we’re giving these kids a chance to do the right thing, dontcha know!  But oh my garsh, if they’re not going to take advantage of what we’re offering, our state has enough ice holes and northern pike for every last one of ’em!”

You betcha.

 

 

That heartwarming lyrical question, posed in The Sound of Music, brings to mind the title of a recent Chronicle of Higher Education essay by Trinity Washington University President Patricia McGuire: “How Colleges Should Deal With Their Kellyannes.”  President McGuire observes that “famous graduates can pose real dilemmas for colleges when fame becomes notoriety.” (White House counselor Kellyanne Conway graduated from Trinity Washington.)

Wayward alumni and alumnae are no strangers to higher education.  Take Genghis Khan (1162-1227), founder of the Mongol Empire and legendary Bad Boy who led military campaigns that slaughtered countless civilian populations.  He was an acute embarrassment to his alma mater, Karakorum Community College, where he obtained an Associate’s Degree in Public Administration.  Upon Khan’s death, the college spiked his head on top of a spear at the entrance to the campus, and attached a small plaque that read, “He Disappointed Us.”

Such an approach would not work in the current era, at least not in most regions of the United States.  At University Life we were curious to see how schools handle the “Kellyanne Problem,” so we started with Harvard University, where Stephen K. Bannon, President Trump’s former Chief Strategist and all-around wingnut, obtained his MBA degree.  Here’s the transcript of our phone conversation with a representative of their business school:

University Life:  “Does Harvard feel that it should distance itself from some of the more outrageous statements uttered by Mr. Bannon?”

Harvard:  “I’m sorry, to whom are you referring?”

UL:  “Stephen K. Bannon, one of your graduates.”

Harvard:  “Dannon?  Yes, we serve their yogurt in our cafeteria.  There’s never been a problem, as far as I know.  You might want to check with the folks over at Food Services.  They could tell you more than I can.”

UL:  “Not Dannon.  Bannon.  He worked for the White House for a number of months early in the Trump administration.”

Harvard:  “Oh, him.  He didn’t go here.”

UL:  “Actually, he did.  MBA, Class of 1985.”

Harvard:  “You must have him confused with Steve Cannon, who also graduated in 1985.  Great guy.  Started an orphanage in Bangladesh that provides tech support for Starbucks and Boeing.  He’s one of our best.”

UL:  “There’s no confusion.  We’re talking about Steve Bannon.  I’m looking at his Harvard graduation photo right now.”

Harvard:  “Sorry, Mr. Bannon is not one of ours.  Are you sure he didn’t go to The Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania?  I think that is where he met Trump.”

UL:  “Why are you lying to me?  We have DNA samples from a desk at your business school that are a perfect match for Bannon.”

Harvard:  “No, you don’t.”

UL:  “Yes, we do.”

Harvard:  “Oh, no you don’t.”

UL:  “Really, we do.”

Harvard:  “Listen, pal, did you ever see Cape Fear with Robert Mitchum?  We know where your family vacations every summer.  Keep in mind who you’re dealing with here.  This is Harvard, not UMass-Boston.  Things can happen.  Bad things.  Just let it go.”

To Our Readers:  Looks like we made a mistake.  Will get back to you after we check with Wharton.  Sorry.

 

 

Everyday life can be hazardous at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania.  According to a recent Chronicle of Higher Education article, “in at least three buildings, faculty members have for years complained about mold, water damage, humidity, climate control, asbestos, and radon.”

Annoying as these problems may be, one must look elsewhere for examples of truly harrowing environmental anguish in higher education.  Consider the following:

Room 232, Hillerman Hall, University of Arizona.  A 30-seat classroom used primarily for English courses, it is popularly known as The Scorpion Den.  Hundreds of these predatory arachnids scurry across the floor of 232 throughout the day and evening, stinging students’ exposed feet, ankles, and lower legs with abandon. 

According  to University Facilities Director Terrance “Tex” Turnbull, “we’ve been trying to get rid of the dang things for the past 17 years.  We’ve sprayed ’em with pesticides, smashed ’em with hammers,  and looped tiny lassos around their necks — nothing has worked.  We tell the students taking a class in that room to wear thick socks, hiking boots, and long pants, but do these kids listen?  Hell, no.  Most of them still show up in flip-flops and shorts.

“You know what’s interesting, though?  Last semester an evening course called ‘Post-Modernist Discourse’ was offered in that room, and the morning after the first class session, the room was filled with dead scorpions.  Some of them left suicide notes.  It’s the damnedest thing.  We’re looking into it.”

Wizmer Dining Hall, Middlebury College (Vermont).  On the third Wednesday of every month, the dinner menu features Poison Ivy Salad.  “It’s a school tradition,” says head chef Jacques Sternaux.  “There is no such thing as a toxic plant, only toxic attitudes toward stigmatized  plants.  Our organic, free-range poison ivy has more Vitamin A and K than raw spinach.”

Poison Ivy Salad is served with a fork and an EpiPen, the latter being useful for reducing the itching and potentially fatal swelling of the throat that can accompany anaphylactic shock.  The college’s health center reports that most freshmen who survive their first year at Middlebury develop an immunity not only to poison ivy, but also to rattlesnake venom and poison dart frogs.

Satan’s Chapel, University of Notre Dame (South Bend, Indiana).  This small chapel on the southwest edge of campus has been taken over by Lucifer, according to the University’s Chaplain, Reverend Hansen O’Feeney.  “Students and faculty who worship there become infected by the spirit of the Evil One and are sucked into the Underworld.  Weeks later they emerge from the toilets of the Business School as hedge fund managers.  We closed the chapel in 2014, but re-opened it in 2017 due to popular demand.  At this point we’re at a loss regarding how to proceed.  Over 35% of our alumni donations last year were specifically earmarked for the chapel.”

Kutztown, count your blessings.