How many provosts does it take to change a lightbulb?
ChatGPT said:
It depends on the institution! At some universities, it might take a committee of provosts to develop a strategic plan for the lighting update, while at others, a single provost could oversee the whole process, from budget approval to implementation. Either way, it’s likely a multi-step process involving multiple stakeholders and lots of paperwork.
Chuck! Searing! Bold! Exclamatory! I thought I detected satire when I saw this headline came from you. This binary between lit and tech (or lit and professions, or lit and a future paycheck) is so overworked and simply false. Hooray for you, “reframing” the issue as one for students making, not faculty policing. I cheered here many times.
While it is infuriating to be singled out in this way (and the article you are responding to seems particularly egregious in its narrow focus on English), is it possible, while still nurturing our fury, to also see this as a sort of a backhanded acknowledgment that, yes, English is important, very important, and yes, English has the power to ruin your life if you fail to pay proper respect to its practitioners and what they teach? I know; it is difficult even suggesting such a thing because, c'mon, a powerful English Department? I've never known one or studied in one (and I've got direct experience with four of them). Usually, English Departments are relegated to residing in that despised lowly category, the "service" department, and their role is to serve the rest of the departments by training students how to write, since the other departments have more important things to do (apparently). And man, do the other departments bitch and moan when they think the English Department isn't doing their job and turning out the polished and accomplished writers the other departments expect and demand. "I'm an Engineering professor. I shouldn't have to correct my students' spelling and grammar! The English Department clearly sucks!" Still, while I agree that scapegoating is going on, isn't it curious that it's so frequently English that gets picked on? If English is as inconsequential and worthless as the attacks seem to want to imply, why the repeated attempts to put English in its supposed place? Because, perhaps, English really can ruin one's life?
An anecdotal example of the power of English to warp a man's entire existence: In the early to mid-80s, I studied English at the University of Maine. While there, I had the good fortune of acquiring the mentorship of one Prof. Carroll F. Terrell, who, being literally a one-of-a-kind type of guy, defies succinct description. Let's just say that he was often as outrageous as he was effective at his job, a job that he was constantly in the process of expanding and redefining. As a result, he always had stories to tell, lots and lots of stories. One time, Terry (as he was known to everyone) and I (since I was his current Boy Friday) were transporting Leslie Fiedler to one of UMaine's branch campuses for a conference at which Fiedler was to give the keynote address. Fiedler was a literary critic probably best known for his book "Love and Death in the American Novel"; and one of the novels Fiedler examines in that book is the classic, "Moby Dick" (which has been featured here on the Declining Academic's Substack). During the drive, Terry launched into a story about a legislative hearing he'd attended "back in the day" to provide testimony about the university, or education in general, or something, I forget. During this hearing, one of the legislators started yammering on about "Moby Dick," even though, as far as Terry could recall, Melville's novel had no apparent relevance to the subject of the hearing. Despite that, the legislator kept pressing Terry about "Moby Dick's" current status in the curriculum, was it being taught? to whom was it being taught? if it wasn't being taught, shouldn't it be? etc. etc. "He just couldn't stop talking about "Moby Dick," Terry laughed. Eventually, Terry said, he figured out that when the legislator had been in school, he had been forced to read "Moby Dick" and as a result he had become convinced that EVERY student should have to read "Moby Dick." But not because he loved the book or had been transformed by the experience of reading it. No, it had been excruciating to read and had made the legislator absolutely miserable. So, in effect, he was saying: Since I had to suffer, everyone should also suffer. And Terry laughed and laughed about this: "That poor sonofabitch went to his grave convinced he was a victim of "Moby Dick" and he was determined to have everyone share his pain."
And the moral of the story? Beware the English professor bearing a syllabus that includes "Moby Dick." Or so I would surmise.
How many provosts does it take to change a lightbulb?
ChatGPT said:
It depends on the institution! At some universities, it might take a committee of provosts to develop a strategic plan for the lighting update, while at others, a single provost could oversee the whole process, from budget approval to implementation. Either way, it’s likely a multi-step process involving multiple stakeholders and lots of paperwork.
I was going to say "Zero, as EAB will take care of that for you!"
! . says it all.
Chuck! Searing! Bold! Exclamatory! I thought I detected satire when I saw this headline came from you. This binary between lit and tech (or lit and professions, or lit and a future paycheck) is so overworked and simply false. Hooray for you, “reframing” the issue as one for students making, not faculty policing. I cheered here many times.
Thanks so much! (I was worked up and just had to blow off the steam. To be fair, Bogost has written some really great, important stuff.)
Just not this. 😂
Oh, blimey, and I've had such fun blaming English! History appears to be catching up (following down?) to my amazement and horror.
While it is infuriating to be singled out in this way (and the article you are responding to seems particularly egregious in its narrow focus on English), is it possible, while still nurturing our fury, to also see this as a sort of a backhanded acknowledgment that, yes, English is important, very important, and yes, English has the power to ruin your life if you fail to pay proper respect to its practitioners and what they teach? I know; it is difficult even suggesting such a thing because, c'mon, a powerful English Department? I've never known one or studied in one (and I've got direct experience with four of them). Usually, English Departments are relegated to residing in that despised lowly category, the "service" department, and their role is to serve the rest of the departments by training students how to write, since the other departments have more important things to do (apparently). And man, do the other departments bitch and moan when they think the English Department isn't doing their job and turning out the polished and accomplished writers the other departments expect and demand. "I'm an Engineering professor. I shouldn't have to correct my students' spelling and grammar! The English Department clearly sucks!" Still, while I agree that scapegoating is going on, isn't it curious that it's so frequently English that gets picked on? If English is as inconsequential and worthless as the attacks seem to want to imply, why the repeated attempts to put English in its supposed place? Because, perhaps, English really can ruin one's life?
An anecdotal example of the power of English to warp a man's entire existence: In the early to mid-80s, I studied English at the University of Maine. While there, I had the good fortune of acquiring the mentorship of one Prof. Carroll F. Terrell, who, being literally a one-of-a-kind type of guy, defies succinct description. Let's just say that he was often as outrageous as he was effective at his job, a job that he was constantly in the process of expanding and redefining. As a result, he always had stories to tell, lots and lots of stories. One time, Terry (as he was known to everyone) and I (since I was his current Boy Friday) were transporting Leslie Fiedler to one of UMaine's branch campuses for a conference at which Fiedler was to give the keynote address. Fiedler was a literary critic probably best known for his book "Love and Death in the American Novel"; and one of the novels Fiedler examines in that book is the classic, "Moby Dick" (which has been featured here on the Declining Academic's Substack). During the drive, Terry launched into a story about a legislative hearing he'd attended "back in the day" to provide testimony about the university, or education in general, or something, I forget. During this hearing, one of the legislators started yammering on about "Moby Dick," even though, as far as Terry could recall, Melville's novel had no apparent relevance to the subject of the hearing. Despite that, the legislator kept pressing Terry about "Moby Dick's" current status in the curriculum, was it being taught? to whom was it being taught? if it wasn't being taught, shouldn't it be? etc. etc. "He just couldn't stop talking about "Moby Dick," Terry laughed. Eventually, Terry said, he figured out that when the legislator had been in school, he had been forced to read "Moby Dick" and as a result he had become convinced that EVERY student should have to read "Moby Dick." But not because he loved the book or had been transformed by the experience of reading it. No, it had been excruciating to read and had made the legislator absolutely miserable. So, in effect, he was saying: Since I had to suffer, everyone should also suffer. And Terry laughed and laughed about this: "That poor sonofabitch went to his grave convinced he was a victim of "Moby Dick" and he was determined to have everyone share his pain."
And the moral of the story? Beware the English professor bearing a syllabus that includes "Moby Dick." Or so I would surmise.