We at Historiann have been enjoying the guilty pleasures of Rate Your Students for the past six months or so. It’s pretty much the opposite of this blog–actually, it’s our evil twin. Whereas Historiann is earnest and all about solidarity and sympathy and bucking you up and making you feel like you’re not so alone, Rate Your Students is all about…none of that. It’s about the bitterness, isolation, and anomie of modern faculty life, and the realization that you’ve wasted your time and talents by pursuing a career in higher education.
With that in mind, and a warning that as always, Walter’s latest missive is Not Safe For Work (if your work involves people squinting really hard to see over your shoulder while you’re typing, anyway), I refer you to the “crazzy” proffie that we all secretly admire, Walter from Waxahachie. (For your convenience, Walter’s “Oeuvre” is linked at the bottom of this latest post, so you can catch up on your Walterology over the weekend.)
Here’s a little flava of the gestalt of Walter:
Oh and the cookie bakers! Yes, we have those abominations here at my school as well. The Education and English departments are full of them, lazy, insecure, wallflowers who never got laid until they were 25, so desperate for attention and desperate to be liked. I’d fire every sallow faced one of them if I had the chance, and when I get to be Dean you’re going to hear about it in the Crampicle of Higher Education. (There’ll be a big photo of me eating a turkey leg and smearing my face on the former tenure policy here, that’s for sure.) You know what, I’m not passing out trophies or ribbons or pastries here. I’m a goddamned college professor and you should get the huevos together to do the same.
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You’re not even trying. You want to prove academic culture is bereft of reason, populated with eunuchs, and eager and greasy for a cleaning, well, you’re not aiming very high. You can’t swing a cat around without knocking over 14 insane, persecuted, alarmed, china-doll proffies who can’t wait to get on the Crampiche forums to talk about how unappreciated they are, and how hard it is to be them. F**k that. This page is starting to be run by those eggheads, those layabouts. Get back in charge. I always liked it best when you took a few swings at students, but then twirled around with a roundabout boot to the solar plexus of the “colleagues” who ruin the damn campus. Get ’em all, is what I’m saying. Take ’em all down. Don’t let the bull$h*t seep into the pages, these polite and suddenly happy pages.