Mar. 13th, 2009

katallison: (Default)
I feel bad whining about my job, given that so many people I know would give a great deal to have a job to whine about, and yet, still --

Holy mother of GOD am I wiped out. This was Registration Week at my college, and to an extent exceeding even the high standard set by Registration Weeks past, this one has beaten me down, kicked me to the curb, and tap-danced upon my twitching fallen corpus. With hob-nailed boots.

The problem is that my college, like pretty much every other institution of higher ed that I know of, is caught in the following brutal equations:

  • Students who normally would be graduating deciding that hey, staying in college another year is better than being unemployed with student loans coming due;
  • plus: People who have been laid off deciding that now is the perfect time to go back and finish that degree and hey, getting even skimpy financial aid beats the hell out of panhandling;
  • equals: Record enrollment levels.


  • Open faculty positions (due to retirement, departures, whatever)
  • plus: Hiring freeze
  • equals: Insufficient faculty staffing and hence fewer-than-usual course openings.

Adding these two together, we get:

  • Courses that filled within, like, five minutes of opening on the reg system, and hence:
  • An extraordinary number of pissed-off, freaked-out, disgruntled, angry students who cannot get into any courses whatsoever, most of whom have been in my office at some point this week delaminating/melting down/sobbing/yelling.

How wiped-out was I today? When I got home and flumped down in front of the computer, I felt a crackling stiff something in my right front pants pocket. Thinking it might be a Critical Student Note I'd inadvertently brought home with me, I pulled it out and discovered it was -- a five-dollar bill. The five-dollar bill I'd stuck in my pocket to buy a cup of coffee over at the student center this morning.

I just ... I mean, there WAS coffee at some point in the morning. (I'm quite sure of that, since otherwise there would have been DEATH.) I can almost, sort of, vaguely remember walking back to my office carrying a cup of coffee in my gloved hands. But ... I still have the money in my pocket? Did I just fill my cup and saunter out, in blithe oblivion, without paying?


(...Much wine now. And then much sleep.)


katallison: (Default)

November 2009


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