Author: Michael Morris

More than a few faculty members at Old Dominion University were upset last summer when Provost Brian K. Payne announced that they would need to condense their 16-week online courses into 8-week offerings.  They predicted that the shift would not go smoothly (Chronicle of Higher Education, February 2nd online). 

They had no idea how right they were.

Late in the afternoon of February 4th, Dalton Pelf, an assistant professor of English at ODU, sat down in front of his office computer in the Batten Arts & Letters building on campus.  He asked ChatGPT to compress all of the PowerPoint content for his 16-week online course on James Joyce’s Ulysses and Finnegan’s Wake into an 8-week presentation.  ChatGPT responded that the task would “take some time, probably several hours.”  Professor Pelf left the computer running on his desk and went home.

At approximately 2:35 am on February 5th, a massive explosion and mushroom cloud replaced what used to be Batten Arts & Letters.  Fortunately, the building was empty at the time except for a small aquarium tank in the office of the English Department Chair.  Its inhabitants did not survive. 

According to campus police and forensic IT consultants, squeezing so much dense analytical material on Joyce into just 8 weeks raised the energy requirements of Pelf’s computer to the point where a form of nuclear fission occurred, unleashing an atomic-like blast.

Surveying the rubble, ODU’s police chief remarked, “it’s one thing to condense the substance of Dan Brown’s collective works into 8 weeks, but James Joyce?  Give me a break.  That Pelf fella should have known better.”

An interfaith memorial service for Batten’s deceased guppies will be held at 10:00 am on Wednesday, February 11th at the Seafood Station in Broderick Dining Commons.  Phish will perform. 

 

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.”

Few were surprised recently when the University of California at San Diego reported a significant decline over the past five years in the writing and math skills of its admitted students (Chronicle of Higher Education, November 13th online).  What is startling, however, are the things these students claim to know that simply aren’t true.  Here’s a sampling:

— 42% believe that Shohei Ohtani was the Emperor of Japan during World War II.

— 62% “seriously doubt” that Finland exists.

— 81% claim that the consumption of tofu chicken tenders by pregnant women is the major cause of transgender identification among preteens. 

— 54% insist that numbers aren’t real, because you can’t grab onto them in the same way that you can squeeze a chicken tender with your fingers.

— 28% believe that mass shootings would be eliminated if it were illegal for people to get together in groups. 

— 92% maintain that French fries grow in the wild in Brittany and Normandy.

— 73% believe that the film “Birth of a Nation” was about the first Caesarean section performed in the United States on the wife of a plantation owner.

— 38% are sure that “World War II” was the second season of “World War I,” a popular fantasy series streamed on Hulu.

— 94% claim that punctuation and grammar rules were created by elementary school teachers to make kids feel stupid.  

— 61% believe that 7 of the original Thirteen Colonies began as NFL franchises. 

— 81% believe that the Virgin Mary wed Joseph in order to become eligible for Medicaid and SNAP benefits.

Let the remediation begin.   

 

 

 

 

“Shakedown” is just one of the words being used to describe the decision by Northwestern University to pay the Trump administration $75 million to settle a discrimination investigation and restore frozen federal funding to the school.  

That characterization gained credibility on Sunday, when a surveillance camera captured Northwestern’s provost placing a duffle bag containing $100,000 in cash into a day locker at Chicago’s Union Station (255 South Central Street).  Later that afternoon, Secretary of Education Linda McMahon visited the same locker and retrieved the bag.  

As she was leaving the station, McMahon was approached by reporters.  She explained that “there is nothing illegal going on here, so don’t get your panties in a bunch.  Northwestern owes us $75 million, and this is simply the first installment.  Sorry to run, but I’ve got a few more pick-ups to make before heading back to DC to attend Pete Hegseth’s End of Sobriety Celebration at the Kennedy Center tonight.  You didn’t hear it from me, but don’t be surprised tomorrow morning if there’s a smoking hole in the map where Venezuela used to be.  That boy is on FIRE!”

As ChatGPT and AI storm higher-education classrooms in a fashion similar to Sherman’s troops torching Atlanta in 1864, professors and administrators around the country are frantically seeking a meaningful response.  10 years from now, will term papers and take-home exams be historical curiosities, only to be found in museums?  (“Daddy, tell me another story about when you were in college and used to type the thoughts you had in your head on a piece of paper and then give them to a teacher.  That was so crazy!”)  

But the Resistance is mobilizing.  Consider the University of Maryland at College Park, whose President declared last week that “we will never surrender to AI.”  Beginning in September 2026, the school will redirect all of its non-sports resources into a single degree program: a Bachelor of Arts in Crab-Picking.  

President Darryll J. Pines noted that “Maryland is the one place on earth where you can find the Chesapeake Bay blue crab, the Food of the Gods.  And the only way to extract that delectable lump and backfin meat from its shell is by hand.  It is the epitome of an artisanal craft that leads to secure, well-paid employment.  You learn that craft by watching other people engage in it and then practicing yourself — over….and over….and over.  It is a painstaking process of manual trial and error.  You can’t ChatGPT your way through it, boys and girls. 

“Current students who are majoring in fields other than crab-picking will be given permission to use the NCAA’s transfer portal to finish their degree at another institution in the region.  If you decide to stay at the University of Maryland, however, you must switch your major to crab-picking.

“At the University of Maryland, we’re making higher education great again.  As for AI, you can kiss my Old-Bay-lovin’ ___.”

College fraternities have long had a negative reputation in U. S. higher education, where they are widely viewed as a Sodom and Gomorrah of bad behavior.  But — no joke — a recent national survey, cited by the Chronicle of Higher Education, indicates that fraternity members report a higher level of mental health than non-fraternity males in the same age cohort (Daily Briefing, November 4th online). 

How could that possibly be true?  University Life interviewed dozens of “frat bros” around the country last week to find out.  Here’s a sampling of what these young men told us:

Todd (University of Illinois) — “You ever play solitaire beer pong?  It’s profoundly depressing.  Hell, it makes you want to stop drinking altogether.  I need my guys there to cheer me on.”

Darren (Tulane) — “When you owe DraftKings or FanDuel several thousand dollars and their no-neck collection goons are about to show up and beat the crap out of you, it’s nice to have a brother across the hall who can lend you some cash.  No more concussions and internal injuries for me.”

Hunter (Mississippi State) — “Our fraternity buys high-end condoms in bulk.  I’m talking about Michelin Ribbed Radials.  We tape them next to every surface in the house that has enough space for a human being to lie down on.  That way, a brother is never in a situation where an opportunity presents itself and no protection is readily available.  It takes the stress level down to zero on party nights.”

Finn (Dartmouth) — “When you’re naked and climbing into the 3rd-floor window of a sorority house at 3:00 am, it’s reassuring to know that someone is holding on to the bottom of the ladder.”

Peyton (UCLA) — “Let’s say you haven’t attended class in a month because you’re binge-watching all 28 seasons of South Park.  It’s comforting to have a frat brother tell you that ‘it’s totally okay, man! What you learn from South Park can’t be found in books’.”

Ellison (University of Texas at Austin) — “Getting ready to go on a hot first date when you discover that you have no clean underwear?  Not a problem.  That community laundry basket in the foosball room, filled with fresh boxer shorts, is just what the doctor ordered.  And don’t forget the fabric softener.  Always use Downy, Vanilla Bean scent.  It drives women crazy.”

Spence (Penn State) — “Left to my own devices, I’d eat nothing but Ramen noodles.  But here at Kappa Pho, there’s always a brother who’ll say to me, ‘you might want to consider supplementing that entrée with a Slim Jim.  Gotta get yourself some protein, Spence-Man’.  We’re all about looking out for one another.”

Perhaps it’s time we put a hold on our moral indignation and start giving fraternities the respect they deserve.  Just a thought.