Month: January 2026

With blue books and handwritten exams returning to college classrooms in the wake of ChatGPT, it was only a matter of time before higher education tackled the challenge of reintroducing students to the art of cursive writing.  As one professor recently put it, “the penmanship of today’s typical college sophomore resembles the splotched and splattered canvas of a Jackson Pollock painting…and is just about as meaningful.” 

Leading the way, of course, is Harvard.  Beginning in September 2026, the first floor of Widener Library will house the Crimson Cursive Center, providing students with intensive tutoring in all aspects of curly writing.  According to John F. Manning, Harvard’s Provost, “elementary schools in the United States can no longer be relied upon to teach young people how to write in cursive, so we’ve decided to do it ourselves.  Our faculty have demanded this.  

“The Center will be open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and will be staffed by elderly monks and nuns from the finest Western European monasteries and convents.  We’re working with the Trump administration around the clock to expedite their visa applications.  If all goes well, we plan to establish an undergraduate major in Calligraphy by the fall of 2027.”

At Vanderbilt University, they’re taking a different, non-blue-book approach.  Students type their answers to in-class exam questions on vintage Smith-Corona manual typewriters (circa 1920) that have been reconditioned but not electrified.  Vanderbilt Chancellor Daniel Diermeier acknowledges that “our classrooms are quite noisy during exam periods, what with all those keys being struck, but silicone earplugs are provided free of charge to any student who requests them.  Trust me, this is a lot easier than teaching Vanderbilt students to write in cursive.”

Wondering if the U. S. is losing its edge in higher education?  Think again. 

 

 

“Feeling Depleted? A Guide to Faculty Renewal” is the title of a recent Chronicle of Higher Education article devoted to re-energizing dispirited college professors (January 7th online). 

The authors do an excellent job when it comes to identifying the four ingredients that are needed for the renewal process, but outdated norms of civility prevent them from fully exploring that process.  It’s time to get real, folks.  The following suggestions for mixing these ingredients are better suited to our Trumpian era.  

TIME AWAY:  Using sabbaticals, spring breaks, and summer vacations to “get away” is for wusses.  Be aggressive.  Inform your department chair at the beginning of February that you won’t be meeting any of your classes for the entire month.  If the chair balks, simply say, “I know where you live and, by the way, how is 5-year-old Timmy doing?  Such a beautiful child!”  Flash a deranged smile when delivering that last sentence. 

REFLECTION AND GOAL SETTING:  Your promotion to Associate Professor was denied last year, with the letter from the Tenure and Promotion Committee noting that you have yet to write a single chapter of the book you claimed to have been working on for the past five years:  “Stirring the Hive: The Revolt of Indigenous Beekeepers in 17th-Century Scotland.”  

Contemplating this insult is the kindling for the fury that rages within you.  It is now time to transform that fury into a measurable objective:  going to the home of every member of the T & P Committee and keying their car.  

COMMUNITY:  Assemble your attack team: that eccentric Math professor who insists on calling people “earthlings” rather than using their names; the Business School lecturer who responds to every colleague’s utterance with a facial expression that suggests the suffering associated with a severely impacted colon; and the alienated server in the faculty dining room who has been disciplined more than once for spitting into the tureen of minestrone. 

CLEAR NEXT STEPS:  In the faculty parking lot, identify the cars you intend to key on Revenge Night.  Double-check their license plates to ensure that no innocents are targeted.  Organize a practice session for the team at an auto junkyard.  Buy camouflage outfits, including ICE-type head coverings, for all members of the team.  Choose a time for the attack, preferably a moonless night between 1 and 3 am. 

Treat the team to pizza and beer on the evening of the mission. 

Execute the mission.

Return to your classes the following month, knowing that there is no challenge in academia you can’t handle. 

And continue to avoid the minestrone.  

 

TRUE FACT:  The 2026 annual meeting of the American Historical Association included a session on “The Reading Problem,” prompted by the significant decline that has occurred in college students’ reading skills.  When you add that problem to the one of ChatGPT-enabled students no longer doing their own writing, we arrive at the question:  What’s a university to do if its students can neither read nor write?

Not to worry, says Florida Governor Ron DeSantis.  In September 2026, Stonehenge College will open in Ocala, a city of over 60,000 in North Central Florida.  According to the Governor, “Stonehenge will be the first college in the country to fully embody the oral tradition of education.  There will be no readings or written assignments — EVER.  Professors will lecture, students will listen, and then students will talk and be graded on what they say.  If a subject can’t be taught this way, it’s not worth learning.

“Plato and Aristotle pioneered the Stonehenge model of voice-based education in England back in 350 BC, and it still works.  As Socrates famously proclaimed, ‘the sparrow’s song at dusk is the vessel that carries all that is needed for an examined life’.

Stonehenge College will join the NCAA’s Southeastern Conference in the fall of 2027, fielding teams in football, basketball, and yodeling.

 

At first glance, the headline in the Chronicle of Higher Education might seem alarming: “Texas A&M Bans Plato Excerpt from a Philosophy Course” (January 7th online).  

But Tommy Williams, Interim President of the school, disagrees: “Everyone needs to calm down.  This is not about Plato or race or gender ideology, and it never has been.  It’s about the fact that this is Texas, and the typical policymaker or high-level college administrator in our state can’t tell the difference between a bowl of refried beans and a bucket of cow turds.  I’m talking about a level of stupid that has to be seen to be believed.  I should know, having served in the Texas legislature for over 16 years and in the role of Texas A&M’s President.  Hell, we couldn’t distinguish between Plato and Play-Doh if our lives depended on it.  Trust me.  

“Here at Texas A&M, we’re all about football, not Philosophy courses. This season the Aggies went 11-2 and made the playoffs; we’re not looking back.  If it’s Plato you want, try the Roasted Lamb Bowl at Wild Pita on Wellborn Road.  I’m told it’s pretty Greeky.”  

Say what you will about Secretary of Education Linda McMahon, but this lady knows how to shake things up.  On Wednesday, she announced that the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) will assume responsibility for the accreditation of all four-year colleges and universities in the United States beginning June 1, 2026.

“Let’s be honest,” said McMahon.  “The core purpose of higher education in our society is to serve as a vehicle for the delivery of high-profile sporting events in football and basketball to the American public.  Accordingly, accreditors must ensure that schools operate transfer portals that facilitate the efficient movement of college athletes from one rapacious institution to another.  

“All it takes to gum up the works is one misguided admissions officer at LSU who objects to a 31-year-old free safety from Boise State entering the portal with three DUIs, two home invasions, one sexual assault, and a 0.4 GPA.  

“The NCAA has a track record of not letting such nitpicking concerns get in the way of building high-performance sports teams on college campuses.  As NCAA President Charlie Baker is fond of saying, ‘if God had wanted top-flight athletes to be educated rather than coached, He would have used one of the Ten Commandments to say so’.

“With the NCAA overseeing the accreditation process, we can be confident that the reckless application of elitist admission standards in higher education won’t turn March Madness into March Sadness.”