I’m chasing this Master’s degree so that I might one day have a shot at teaching a class or two at the college level, if there are any college levels out there that would be interested in offering a class about lobbying and why it’s an important part of the public policy process. (I wrote a book all about it!)
It’s going pretty well, thanks. The end is in sight.
But not before I plow through a few more classes, one of which is currently testing my patience not because of its subject matter, but because of the way it is presented.
These are graduate-level courses. I’ll say that again. These are graduate-level courses.
I remind myself of that fact as I wade through this patience-testing class. Our big “Graduate Student Only” assignment last week had something to do with due process. The question introduced us to protagonist Julia, who “block-copied a long paragraph from a brief she found online and included it in her final legal writing assignment.” She did so, we learn, because “her instructor told her during office hours that lawyers in practice regularly take entire paragraphs from other lawyers’ briefs.”
Well, folks, you know what happens next: Julia gets nabbed by the school’s honor code police and gets a big violation on her record.
And here is a direct quote from the Graduate Student Only Assignment:
“Julia is super upset.”
What?
It took every ounce of self-control to keep me from handing in an essay written in the same tone of voice as the question informing me that “Julia is super upset.” I was prepared to submit something that read along the lines of, “OMG Julia was like totally right to be so super upset because like really when her like teacher like literally during office hours told her it was like OK AF to copy and then she like did it and she got busted? No WAY!”
This week we have a series of wholly legitimate questions regarding agency rulemaking procedures and whatnot. But we’re told to “hand in our worksheet before the deadline.”
Our … worksheet.
Only a few miles from the campus of my soon-to-be alma mater, The University of Arizona, our daughter, Lianna, teaches art to students in grades one through four. This week, her third graders got a worksheet, and it’s about Roy Lichtenstein. Sure, you remember learning about Lichtenstein when you were eight years old, right? The Lichtenstein unit led to class discussion of onomatopoeia and a debate over whether the new verb “yeet” fits the definition thereof. They say yes, she disagrees but told them they could go ahead and make their case. Now they’re passing a petition around school asking their pals to Make Yeet An Onomotopoeia.
Supervising her students each time they need to cut a piece of string, she requires them to say – in their best British accent – “I now declare this bridge OPEN.” You Beatles fans out there will get the reference. Her students do, too, because she treats them like sensate human beings. No patronizing, no need to try to be that hip teech who’s down with Today’s Youth.
Back at the U of A, though, I’m looking for my box of crayons so I can finish MY worksheet. I’m really hoping that if I hand it in on time I’ll get snack, and I hope snack is something fun like fruit snacks or a juice box.
Otherwise I’m going to be super upset.
Ted -- Always great to read what you're thinking. So I'm wondering about the counting. There are multiple answers that could be correct in several boxes, you know -- like, the cupcakes could yield the number 3 or the number 15. Maybe this is a question that's aimed at uncovering something a bit deeper than it appears. Or maybe I'm seeing something where there's, you know, less than I imagine. That happens sometimes. Rgds, RWS, M.S.
Maybe you just need some naptime pal.
P.S. Can I be in Lianna's class?