Month: May 2021

Seattle Pacific University is the only U.S.-based school in the Council of Christian Colleges and Universities that will require students to get vaccinated for COVID-19 before coming to campus in the fall (Christianity Today, May 26th online). 

“Of course, it wasn’t an easy decision,” notes SPU Provost Laura Hartley.  “Like other Christian schools, we’d prefer to rely on God to protect our students from this dreaded virus.  Unfortunately, however, The Almighty failed to come through for us on an important occasion earlier this year, and the memory of that episode has lingered.”

The episode:  On January 14th, the SPU men’s basketball team lost a close game to Whitworth University, 69-65.  At a key point late in the contest, an SPU player made a sign of the cross and looked heavenward before attempting two free throws.  He proceeded to miss both of them.

“I must admit, that incident shook the Seattle Pacific community to its core,” says Hartley, her voice quavering with emotion.  “We’re a bit skittish now about relying solely on God to help keep us safe from COVID.  As a result, we’re insisting that everyone get a shot.  No disrespect intended to The Creator, but a little insurance never hurts…..

“…..and next season, we fervently hope The Almighty returns to the foul line on behalf of our student-athletes.”

Amen, and swish.  

The Senate Committee on Curricular Affairs at Penn State University has passed a resolution that calls for the school to stop using gendered terms such as “freshman,” “junior,” and “senior.”  The resolution recommends that the descriptors “first-year,” “second-year,” “third-year,” and “fourth-year” be employed instead (Daily Collegian, May 5th online). 

Inspired by this faculty decision, colleges and universities across the country are transitioning to less volatile vocabularies when referring to their student bodies.  Here are five examples from the past two months:

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Freshmen → Sentient Meat 1

Sophomores → Sentient Meat 2

Juniors → Sentient Meat 3

Seniors → Sentient Meat 4

Oral Roberts University

Freshmen → Jesus Kittens

Sophomores → Madonna Meerkats

Juniors → Lieges of the Lord

Seniors → Satan Stabbers

Harvard University

Freshmen → The Grateful

Sophomores → The Arrogant

Juniors → The Gratefully Arrogant

Seniors → Platinum Donors

U.S. Military Academy

Freshmen → Water Pistols

Sophomores → Super Soakers

Juniors → Surface-to-Air Missiles

Seniors → Cannon Fodder

University of Phoenix

Freshmen → Level 1 Borrowers

Sophomores → “How the F**K Am I Ever Going to Pay All This Back?” Insomniacs

Juniors → 7-Eleven Stick-Up Artists

Seniors → Inmates

May is not over.  There’s still time to call an emergency meeting of your school’s Faculty Senate.  

 

The authors of a recent Chronicle of Higher Education essay argue that the term “flagship” should no longer be used to describe certain universities.  They assert that the word “has outlived whatever purpose it once had, and now clearly does more harm than good” (May 14th issue).  

Welcome to higher education Whack-A-Mole. 

Academicians breastfeed their young on jargon, and should “flagship” leave us, one can be certain that a new, equally obnoxious term will replace it within a few weeks.

To wit, consider the following institutional descriptors that have gained currency in the past several months:

Dumpster Fires:  Small, non-elite, liberal-arts colleges that were in serious financial trouble before the pandemic, and now are in danger of flaming out entirely.  

Monster Trucks:  Large state universities that dominate their competition in key domains (e.g., University of Alabama → football). 

Bullet Trains:  Schools that offer an Acela’s worth of fast-track degrees, such as a bachelor’s in 2 years, a BA/MA combo in 3, or the BS/PhD/MD trifecta in 4. 

Mushroom Clouds:  Colleges where over 40% of the male faculty have been accused of sexual assault AND the cafeteria workers are on strike AND the President has been caught having separate affairs with both the Dean of Arts & Sciences and the Dean’s spouse AND there are at least 3 buildings on campus named after slaveholding Confederate generals and one named after a Nazi war criminal. 

Tricycles:  Schools where nearly 80% of all course offerings are remedial. 

Pelotons:  Universities that specialize in graduate certificate programs — highly expensive, and you end up where you started.  

Rusted Oil Drums:  Colleges with a lot of elderly, heavily tenured faculty who are about to be dumped overboard.  

Septic Atomizers:  Institutions that are transitioning with great speed to a predominantly online curriculum (known as Zoom Sewers west of the Mississippi).  

Let’s face it:  Naming stuff is higher education’s core competency.  

 

A recent essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education — “The Art of (Successfully) Appealing a Manuscript Rejection” (May 3rd online) — presents strategies for persuading journal editors to reconsider their negative decision concerning your submission.   

The essay is a worthwhile effort, but its value is diminished by the self-imposed limitation it appears to operate under: only ethical strategies are explored.  What about approaches that might be used by authors who are comfortable with wrongdoing?  If journals are going to be truly committed to diversity and inclusion, these scholars should not be left outside the tent of publication.  Here are three strategies available to authors who embrace a “by any means necessary” philosophy of achieving tenure and promotion.

The Threat of Scandal

Inform the journal editor that failure to reverse the rejection decision will result in your claiming that a sordid sexual affair took place between the two of you several years ago, an affair that was coerced by the editor and left you with permanent, and extensive, emotional scarring.  You describe in detail your plans to “spill the beans” to relevant authorities at the editor’s home institution.  

It doesn’t matter if your claim is true or not.  Mounting a defense against such an accusation can be costly, consuming the better part of one’s career, and the editor may not want to risk that outcome.  HINT:  Including a grainy photo of two naked but unidentifiable bodies tussling in bed can enhance the effectiveness of this strategy.  The typical editor will not want to go through the humiliating process of proving that none of those dimpled buttocks belong to him or her. 

Rejection Jujitsu

Respond to the rejection letter as if it were an acceptance letter.  This is easier than it sounds.  First, have a friend who is a skilled forger prepare a fake acceptance letter from the editor on the journal’s letterhead.  Then return that document to the editor, indicating your gratitude for the positive decision.  Make sure to say how much you’re looking forward to seeing your submission in print.

Most editors are so overwhelmed by the unrelenting burden of managing the review process that they won’t notice the deception, and they’ll end up publishing your manuscript without revision.  By the way, this is the strategy that Nobel Prize winner Herbert Simon used to get his first paper on “satisficing” published in 1956.

Cape Fear

Threatening physical harm to an editor’s family could produce an overreaction, but offering an ambiguous comment about the editor’s pet bichon is a solid bet to hit the “sweet spot” of influence.  For example: “I’m so disappointed that my paper was rejected.  By the way, I drove by your house yesterday and saw Mr. Fluffy playing in the front yard.  Your kids must love him dearly.  He’s such an adorable, friendly puppy, and more than eager to accept treats from strangers.  Dogs are so vulnerable at that age.”

A bit creepy, you say?  Perhaps.  But you need to ask yourself:  do you want a Nobel Prize or not?  It’s your call.