About Me

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I'm an author, historian (Ph.D., WVU), musician, professor, and mountaineer. I have published two books, To Live Again, a classical myth set in contemporary Appalachia, and Defending the Homeland, a collection of essays on radicalism and national security. Welcome to my blog.
Showing posts with label WVU. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WVU. Show all posts

Saturday, January 9, 2010

My Favorite Student Excuses

Excuses, Excuses...


It seems like a long year already. I’ve been spending nights at the hospital with my grandmother and one of my sister’s best friends (and someone I’ve known my whole life) is about to succumb to an eight year battle with breast cancer. She was diagnosed the same month my first novel was published. When I learned of her condition, I gave her a signed copy of the very first book the publisher sent me. A couple of weeks later she called me and told me that reading the book was a great encouragement to her. To me, the compliment was better than making the bestseller list. Soon she will be gone. We will all miss her terribly.

Long story short, the year is starting out tough. In order to lighten the mood a little, I’m going to write something funny rather than serious this week. Thus, I have decided to share some of my favorite excuses students have given me over the years. These are just a few examples, but everything of what you are about to read is true. Conversations are recited to the best of my memory. Enjoy.





Part I – Dude, Where’s My Paper?



Yes, it is true. I’ve heard the “dog ate my homework” excuse. It happened in the Spring of 2006.

A student came in the office to tell me why his paper was late. He was a white guy with dreadlocks who consistently referred to me as “dude.” He wore a Marley T-shirt, shorts, and sandals. After telling me how he thought my class was “right on,” he announced:

“I know this sounds crazy, dude, but it’s true. Are you ready for this? My dog ate my homework. Now, I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna say that this dude is full of it but, dude, I’m not. It’s all true. I have this dog that eats everything, dude EVERYTHING.”

The student then provided me with several stories surrounding the viciousness of his Boston Terrier and all of the items its jaws had so mercilessly destroyed. Finally, I hear the tale of how the dog ripped apart his paper about John and Abigail Adams in gory detail. The student was very animated while telling the stories and nearly breathless by the time he finished. I waited until the end and said:

“You’re telling me that you could not possibly turn in the paper on time because your dog ate it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, dude. Couldn’t believe it myself. He ate it and I was like…. Dude, WTF?”

“So, why didn’t you just print another copy?”

This question was followed by an awkward silence.

After several seconds of intense contemplation he said. “Um, I was out of paper, maybe.”

Of course he was.





Another student came into my office with crutches and a cast on his right leg. I asked him what happened and he told me that a car wreck had severely injured him and prevented him from getting his paper to me. Naturally, I told him not to worry about it. Get it to me when you can, I said. Later that same evening he walked passed me at the mall. No cast. No crutches.



One kid burst through the office door and announced, “Last night lightning struck a tree in my driveway and a limb fell on top of the car. So I couldn’t turn in my paper this morning.” There had been no storm the night before. Apparently, the Almighty didn’t want him to turn in his paper.





Part II – Don’t Fear the Weeper



Professors hear nearly every type of excuse imaginable. One of my pet peeves is when a student begins by saying, “I know this isn’t an excuse, but….” Some students don’t even bother to come into the office, opting to email me an excuse instead. My first year teaching at WVU, seventeen (yes, I counted) students sent me an email on exam days telling me that a grandparent had died. Seventeen! Evidently my exams are detrimental to the health of grandparents everywhere.



But the worst is when students cry. I recall a time when my niece, Shellie, was only an infant. She was on the couch crying and wailing for something. My father instantly ran to her, picked her up, held her tight, and consoled her with tons of sweet, baby talk. Shellie stopped crying immediately and smiled. It dawned on me then that one of the first things a female learns in this world is how she can manipulate a man with tears. It is no surprise then that every semester ladies come into my office and start crying away. Nowadays I even keep a box of tissues in my desk. When I first began teaching, however, I was completely unprepared.

The first time it happened was at the end of my first semester as a teacher. Girl comes into the office at around ten in the morning. She was attractive and completely dolled up. I looked at her grades and told her she needed to make an 80 on the final in order to pass the class. She could not get any higher than a “D.”

Then the tears began to flow. Not a couple of tears, mind you. I’m talking about Niagara Falls. The girl sobbed like her parents had just been murdered. Certainly, this was not the first time I had made a woman cry, but never before in a professional setting. I had no idea what to do. She told me that she was a straight A student and had never made a B before this semester. She then told me how her mother had been in the hospital and her boyfriend had cheated on her. After several unsuccessful attempts to consol her, I excused myself, walked into the hallway, and called my sister.

I am lucky enough to have a close relationship with my two older sisters. Whenever a woman says or does something that I do not understand, I call one, or both of my sisters, and they interpret the meaning for me (this has happened more times in my past than I care to admit). About 95% of the time, they are accurate.

I related the story over the phone and my sis became very adamant. “Don’t you dare listen to that girl!” She screamed, “She’s just trying to take advantage of you! Don’t you dare let her get away with it!”

“Are you sure? She seemed pretty broken up.”

“Don’t be stupid!”

As my sister continued to rant I peeked into my office. The girl was no longer crying. Instead she was gazing at herself with a handheld mirror and fluffing her hair. I decided to heed my sis’s advice.

I went in and checked her transcripts online. Sure enough, she was not exactly a straight A student. More like a 1.8 GPA. After I pointed this out to her, this sweet, attractive, innocent girl turned into a demon from hell. She cussed me out and stormed off. I sat silent in my chair with my mouth hanging open. My buddy and colleague Eugene Vansickle stuck his head around the corner and smiled (at the time I shared an office with several other Grad Instructors). “Don’t sweat it, Charles,” He laughed, “you’ll get used to it.”



Indeed I have. One girl came in crying over her grade and wanted some sympathy points. Once again, the girl was very attractive and almost unbearably self-absorbed. She struck me as the kind of girl who, when dancing with a guy at a club, spends the whole time watching herself in the mirror on the dance room wall while the guy is grinding on her and staring at her chest. I also imagine that her Facebook profile was filled with dozens of pics of her trying to pose like a fashion model (you know, with the serious look and the sideways peace sign). Sorry, sweetheart. Heidi Klum you are not. When I asked her why she had failed to come to class for the last month, she looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Drama.”

“Really? Drama?”

“Yes, Drama.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and rolled her eyes. “You don’t EVEN know.”

At this point I could no longer contain the sarcasm within me.

“Too bad you missed my lecture last Wednesday,” I said, “I talked about how Woodrow Wilson was incapacitated his entire final year as president after being diagnosed with a severe case of clinical drama.”

The girl didn’t even flinch.

“That sounds just like the last month of my life.” She said with a quivering voice and watery eyes.

I could only smile and shake my head.

“Yes, I’m sure your problems were every bit as complicated as the First World War.”





I have many more examples I can give; and I probably will at a later date. But right now, I’m pretty tired. I know that isn’t an excuse, but….

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Pass the Amontillado, I’m Waiting for the Great Pumpkin

October may very well be my favorite month of the year. Granted, I may be a bit biased since I was born on this month, but there are so many other reasons to love it. The mountains transform into rolling red, gold, and orange quilts. Leaves flutter in the air as cars breeze down solitary roads. The days are comfortable and the nights are crisp. Hunters invade the woods and cheerfully blast at everything not wearing orange. Football is in high gear. This year has been an interesting one for a Steelers and Mountaineers fan. The Steelers, coming off their Super Bowl victory have stumbled their way to a 5-2 start. They don’t look like champs, but somehow they are still in the mix. For the Mountaineers, it’s Coach Stew Year Two. Everyone talks about what a nice guy he is and the Mounties are a tolerable 6-2 but I foresee tough times ahead. Does Stew actually know what he is doing? Half the time he’s pacing back and forth on the sidelines with a confused look and grimacing teeth like he really needs to use the bathroom but can’t remember where to find the nearest toilet. And don’t even talk to me about the halftime interviews. Sometimes the rambling, smiling Stew even makes less sense than Lou Holtz dishing out those those incoherent pep talks – and before Stew did it, I thought it couldn’t be done. Meanwhile thousands of prayers go up from the mountains each day imploring God to make Rich Rodriguez fail at Michigan. Stew is still enjoying the fruits of Rodriguez’s recruiting. Unfortunately for Stew and the Mountaineer faithful, the talent well will not be as deep in the near future. But no matter what happens, it is October and each year I hate to see it go.

One of the best things about October is Halloween. Kids get candy, men get to act like kids, and ladies get to dress like tramps. Everybody is happy. For me though, this time of year is great for ghost stories and scary movies. Upon my return to the ranks of the blog world, I have decided to share a few of my favorite things to watch and/or read whenever I get the chance in late October. The first is a sentimental childhood cartoon: “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown.” The second is my favorite Edgar Allan Poe story, “The Cask of Amontillado,” and the third is, in my opinion, the best vampire movie of the past thirty years, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I will discuss them one blog at a time. For now, it’s Charlie Brown’s turn.

As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t like the Great Pumpkin you must be a terrorist. I had not seen it in a few years but was lucky enough to catch it on TV last week. Having seen the cartoons my nieces and nephews watch I’m struck by how different and much more artistic cartoons used to be. The Charlie Brown special would probably not even see the light of day if it had just been introduced to television executives. It is not happy enough, they would say. It isn’t politically correct and sweet and filled with delusional positive messages about how everyone is special and things always turn out okay in the end. But that is what makes the Great Pumpkin so interesting and enduring. It isn’t a “feel good” story. In fact, the show is filled with disappointment. As usual, Charlie Brown takes it on the chin. Lucy still pulls away the football at the last moment, sending Charlie crashing into the leaves. When they go trick or treating, all the other kids get candy; Charlie Brown gets a bag of rocks. Sally doesn’t get any candy either. Because of her puppy love for Linus, she stays with him in the Pumpkin Patch and misses out on all the candy. She finally screams and shouts at Linus before storming off into the dark. She is like so many women who have blind faith in the men that they love only to wake up one morning and realize they’ve wasted a big chunk of their lives. Then there is poor, ideological Linus - ever watchful in the Pumpkin patch. As the night grew darker, he slept alone under his blanket until his sister drags him home and puts him to bed. No Great Pumpkin. How many of us have spent far too much time in our lives faithfully waiting for something that never came? I certainly have. Most tragically, of course, is that Snoopy fails in his dogfight with the Red Baron and is forced to make a crash landing somewhere in the French countryside (By the way, in the scene where Schroeder is playing the piano and Snoopy is dancing while dressed in his World War I flying gear, Schroeder is playing actual songs popular among the soldiers in the First World War – could you ever find as much depth in a cartoon today?)

Our story ends with Charlie and Linus leaning against the brick wall trying to make sense of everything that has transpired. Charlie didn’t get any candy and Linus never saw the Great Pumpkin. Linus is undaunted, however, and vows to find an even better Pumpkin patch next year. “You’ll see!” he shouts to Charlie Brown. He declares that one day he’ll be proven right. Isn't life this way? Most of the time we don’t get what we want. We wait around for things that never happen; we expect candy and instead, life gives us a rock. But like Linus we wait for next year and hope for better things. Maybe one day Charlie Brown can kick that football and maybe one day the Great Pumpkin will show up. In the meantime, we can enjoy the fact that kids can still see and learn from a cartoon that was drawn over a generation ago. Maybe we can still learn from it too. If that doesn’t make the Great Pumpkin a work of art, I don’t know what does.

Until next time...