The Cursed Canoe

Chapter Three

The temperamental climate control in my office was working this morning. My wall thermometer showed seventy-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Warmer than I'd like, but significantly cooler than outside. I brewed a strong cup of coffee, tried to get comfortable on my yoga ball chair, and prepared to tackle my to-do list.

You might think my recent promotion to interim department chair would be some kind of ego-inflating power trip. Allow me to disabuse you of that notion right now. In addition to teaching my classes and trying to keep my research going, this is how I spend my days:

First and foremost, I attempt to comply with the often conflicting, and always paperwork-intensive, diktats from our university's Student Retention Office. I also run department meetings, schedule classes, counsel students, and listen to complaints.

Oh, the complaining: Students complain about professors, professors complain about administration, the Student Retention Office complains about my faculty members failing to complete their reports on time, and so on. All I can do is listen and try to appear sympathetic.

Here's what I can't do: I can't force faculty members to fill out their weekly Teaching Philosophy Statements and Customer Interaction Reports for the Student Retention Office. I can't make money appear in the department budget, no matter how badly someone might need office furniture or whiteboard markers or copier paper. And I can't tell people how to teach their classes.

I have to explain this to our two most senior professors, Hanson Harrison and Larry Schneider, whenever they come storming into my office to gripe about our colleague, Roger Cowper. "Dr. Rodge," as he tells his students to call him, doesn't give midterms or final exams, assigns no homework, and gives A's to everyone who signs up for his Human Potential class. I can't force Rodge to "maintain academic standards worthy of our university" (Hanson's words) or "teach a real college class and knock off that feel-good bullshit" (Hanson's contemporary, Dr. Larry Schneider). As long as Rodge shows up when he's supposed to and stays out of trouble with the students, there's not much else I can do. Especially not when the Student Retention Office keeps nominating him for the campus-wide teaching award every year.

The top message in my email inbox was an announcement for what was politely termed a "destination conference." The call for papers invited "original contributions on topics related to any of these topics or others" and proceeded to list just about every discipline in existence as well as a few that the organizers had apparently invented. I could certainly use another presentation on my vita when I went up for tenure, but I wasn't desperate enough to sign up for a phony conference sponsored by the nonexistent "Las Vegas University." I deleted the message and the one after it, a reminder to attend Tuesday's emergency faculty senate meeting.

The next message was from the Student Retention Office.

ANNOUNCEMENT.

This was uncharacteristically cryptic. Normally the SRO's email headers are more descriptive: Meet Our New Student Parking Advocates! Learning Styles Workbooks Now Available Online! Fifty Shades of Play: Show Your Students Some Love This Valentine's Day with These Engaging Classroom Role Play Exercises!

A tentative knock on my door interrupted my reading. The SRO's announcement, along with the hundreds of other unread messages in my inbox, would have to wait until after lunch.

Lunch! One more thing on my to-do list. I had told Emma I would go with her to see Kathy Banks. I hoped the visit wouldn't take too long. With any luck, Kathy would be resting quietly and we wouldn't even be allowed in to see her in person. I could drop off a card and slip away. Kathy would probably want something with glittery flowers or a kitten in a basket.

I opened the door to a line of students stretching down the hallway, all waiting for me to sign off on their late adds to one of the courses in the management department. Maybe their financial aid didn't arrive in time, or they wanted to switch to an easier professor or a more convenient time slot. My heart broke a little for them. We were already in the second week of the semester. I had seen the numbers from past semesters. I knew that students who joined a class after the first week had practically no chance of passing. But our administration had made it clear: maximizing enrollment (and tuition dollars) was Job One. My standing orders were to let everyone in.

Despite their eagerness to accommodate late registrants, the administration wasn't able to waive the late registration restriction (something to do with our IT department), so I, as department chair, had to process each course-add request manually. I was starting to understand why Dan Watanabe, my predecessor, had always gone around looking like he'd been trampled by elephants.

I finally had a chance to call Emma at around one in the afternoon. She answered after half a ring.

"Molly! How come you didn't answer? I musta called you about a hundred times."

"I was doing registration overrides all morning, so I had my ringer off. Are we still going up to see Kathy at lunch? Or did you already go?"

"Don't you read your email?"

I jiggled the mouse to wake up my computer, but the screen stayed black.

"Not recently. What's going on?"

"You didn't get the email from the Student Retention Office?"

"I get about a hundred emails a day from the Student Retention Office," I said.

"Yeah, I know. I didn't get it until after I already left for the hospital. Wasted trip."

"You went without me? What do you mean wasted trip? Is Kathy better already?"

"I'll read it to you. Announcement: We are saddened to announce the loss of one of our 'Ohana. Associate Student Success Advocate Kathy Banks passed away over the weekend. We will miss her."

I stared at the computer screen as it blinked awake.

"Emma," I stammered, "I'm so sorry."

"Eh, no need apologize to me. Wanna go get lunch now?"

"Better not," I said. "I've got students coming by nonstop. In fact, I see one waiting for me now. Maritime Club tonight, though?"

"Yeah, Maritime Club sounds good. Mind if I invite someone from the crew?"

"Fine with me." I waved the next student into my office.

"Don't be late," Emma said as I hung up.