Month: April 2024

Critiques of legacy admissions continue to poke the ribs of colleges and universities across the country.  Should Timmy, who keeps putting his khakis on backwards even though there’s a big “F” on the front fly, get to attend Harvard just because his mom or dad rowed for the Crimson crew team?

Well, at least one gold-plated school is attempting to finesse this anti-legacy pressure by tapping into another zeitgeist obsession: farm-to-table cuisine.  

Welcome to Yale University’s rebranding of legacy admissions as “locally sourced recruitment.”  With the assistance of Accenture, the renowned consulting firm, Yale has reconceptualized its communication strategy for legacy admissions, a policy it remains firmly committed to.  

According to Jeremiah Quinlan, Yale’s Dean of Undergraduate Admissions, “characterizing our admissions policy as ‘locally sourced’ underscores Yale’s steadfast loyalty to those alumni families that contribute so much to the rich, fertile soil that constitutes our entering class every year.  

“I invite you to inhale deeply as you walk among the first-year students gathered for the welcoming address delivered by our President every fall.  Smell the soul-stirring aroma of homegrown heirloom tomatoes bursting with flavor.  Experience the pungent fragrance of russet potatoes pulled from lush earth that has been fertilized by scores of broccoli-chomping oxen.  Discover the crisp, mischievous scent of Imperator carrots large enough to bludgeon protestors with at a campus demonstration.  At Yale, we are proud to give a gilded new meaning to the phrase, ‘Farm to Table’.  Come share our bounty.”

Yale’s “Locally Sourced” campaign will begin on June 1st with a full-page ad in The New York Times.

A recent Chronicle of Higher Education essay offers advice on “how to accept ‘no’ for an answer” when you’re an academic adminstrator (April 9th online).  

The author’s counsel is first-rate, but it fails to include five of the most effective responses to a turndown.  Here they are:

Treat the “no” as a “yes.”  This is a venerable strategy in higher education that works remarkably well.  Simply proceed with your nixed project as if it had not been nixed.  When the provost reminds you that he/she/it said “no” to your initiative three weeks ago, counter with, “Excuse me?  I never received that email, and we’re way too deep into the project to turn back now.  Here’s the invoice for the new building.”  

(Note:  If you use this approach, make sure to keep a trustworthy IT consultant on retainer to wipe your PC clean of incriminating messages on a regular basis.) 

Deploy the “I Know What You Did Last Summer” Gambit.  Send the obstructionist CFO who blocked your proposal an email that says, “I know what you did last summer.  Approve my project or I go public.”  There’s at least a 90% chance that this individual did something last summer that is scandalous, illegal, or both.   The CFO, even if innocent, will fold faster than an origami swan at a truck stop.   

Play the Joan of Arc Card.  So, the Dean has denied your request for a new faculty line in your department?  Not a problem.  Inform her that students in the Fire Science Club are going to build a massive bonfire on the campus quadrangle, with you at the center of the conflagration holding aloft a copy of your rejected proposal. 

This is a moderately high-risk strategy, but it’s a good test of how invested you are in the proposal.  You’ll find out what you’re made of and gain the respect of the notoriously hard-to-please faculty union at your institution.  

Engage in Intersectional Bingo.  Use an intersectional identity you embody to claim that the rejection is based on discrimination.  Combinations that have found success in recent months include vegetarian orphan (Vanderbilt), freckled non-swimmer (Bucknell), and chinless Klansman (University of Vermont).  This strategy is noted for how quickly it can turn a “no” into a “yes.”

Challenge the nay-sayer to a public duel.  Pistols, swords, box cutters — it doesn’t matter.  Extremely effective when dealing with college presidents, whose core competencies tend not to include activities requiring hand-eye coordination.  

MORAL OF THE STORY:  Taking “no” for an answer is a choice, not a necessity.  Become the leader that your parents and your dog would be proud of.   

 

TRUE FACT:  In a course offered in the Master of Business and Science program at Rutgers University, students “are challenged to perform five random acts of kindness.”  This is part of an overall effort to “instill empathy in business professionals,” so that “future leaders will put the power of empathy to work alongside science, business, and innovation” (online advertisement in The Chronicle of Higher Education Review, April 8th).  

Oh my.  

It should come as no surprise that this vehicle for transforming business students into human beings has hit a few potholes on the Garden State Parkway of higher education.  For example:

—  A student recently sued the school when he failed to receive extra credit for performing a sixth act of kindness during the course.  Torrance Nufsen had taken down a box of Cocoa Puffs from the top shelf of the cereal aisle in a New Brunswick ShopRite and given it to a short, stooped, 92-year-old woman standing next to him.  Unfortunately, she did not want the cereal and swatted the box out of his hand.  

Says Nufsen: “This is so f**ked up, man!  I did a good thing.  If Grandma Cranky doesn’t like Cocoa Puffs, that’s on her.”

The University’s position is that the course syllabus clearly indicates that extra credit is not given for “extra kindness.”  “Mr. Nufsen should have read that document a bit more carefully,” states the Dean of the Business School.  

The trial is scheduled to begin in late May.

—  Last November, Cynthia Flambé donated one of her kidneys to a German Shepherd on dialysis at a local animal shelter in Bayonne.  Ms. Flambé protested the B-minus she ended up getting in the course, claiming that her act of kindness was so profound that she deserved a much higher grade.

The instructor disagreed: “Donating your kidney to a German Shepherd is stupid.  The dog’s body rejected the organ and he died two days later.  That animal would have been better off if the donation had never taken place.  Cynthia is lucky that I didn’t give her an F.”   

— Timothy Gallinski lent an acquaintance $50 to buy illegal street drugs in February, but received no academic credit for the act.  An outraged Gallinski notes that “my friend Toby is hopelessly addicted to Fentanyl.  What am I supposed to do?  Tell him to get on a 6-month waiting list for a detox program in Newark?  Give me a break!”

The instructor stands by her decision:  “Mr. Gallinski admits that he expected to be paid back in full when Toby got his next paycheck from Jersey Mike’s.  I would have been much more impressed if Timothy had forgiven the loan.  Now THAT would have been an act of kindness consistent with the spirit of the course.”

Problems like this have prompted institutions to explore alternative methods for developing empathy in business students.  Foremost among these is the University of Pennsylvania, where new students at the Wharton School undergo a brain transplant before enrolling in classes.  The donors are elderly, cloistered nuns who reside in convents throughout Portugal, Spain, and Italy.  

“Let’s be honest,” says Erika James, Wharton’s Dean.  “Most applicants to our master’s program are high-achieving, ruthlessly ambitious, self-centered dipwads.  Courses requiring acts of kindness will not change these folks.  Brain surgery will.  We’re pleased with the results so far.”

Penn’s massive endowment provides the funds for all medical expenses associated with the transplant.  “Our students don’t pay a penny,” says James.  “If that isn’t an act of kindness, I don’t know what is.”

Uh-oh.  

Responding to a strike by graduate teaching assistants at Boston University, the school’s Dean of Arts & Sciences, Stan Sclaroff, recommended in an email that instructors “engage generative AI tools to give feedback or facilitate ‘discussion’ on readings or assignments.”  Following the unsurprising backlash provoked by this suggestion, BU issued a statement insisting that “neither Dean Sclaroff nor Boston University believe that AI can replace its graduate-student assistants” (Chronicle of Higher Education, March 29th online). 

But then things got weird.

A University Life investigation reveals that the Dean’s original recommendation, as well as the subsequent disclaimer, were in fact generated by a rogue ChatGPT program that had infected the computers of both Dean Sclaroff and Kenneth Freeman, BU’s interim President.  

At a hastily called press conference on Wednesday morning, the school’s Chief of Police announced that “we are currently experiencing a Level 4 AI Penetration on our campus.  Do not believe anything you read that claims to come from a source within the University.  The institution’s communication systems have been severely compromised.  I repeat, the University’s communication systems have been…”

At precisely that point the Chief’s eyes began blinking rapidly and he stopped talking for nearly 30 seconds.  A distinct whirring sound could be heard.  When the blinking ceased, he recited — in a flat, affect-free tone — the day’s weather forecast and a traffic update for Commonwealth Avenue.  Then, ignoring reporters’ questions, he walked away swiftly in the direction of the Charles River. 

Panicked BU students are now roaming the campus, overturning cars and starting fires in trash bins.  Stray dogs are attacking elderly faculty members who trip and fall over the debris.

On Wednesday evening, a text message to the BU community from President Freeman urged students to “remain calm.  There is absolutely nothing to worry about.  It’s all good.  Please return to your room, log on to your PC, adjust your tin-foil headwear, and await further instructions.”

University Life will update this story as circumstances warrant.