Friday, June 18, 2004
Made it to 200
Thanks to all y'all who've been digging the Dad vignettes; I'm sure he's tickled by the attention, even though he'd never admit it.
Dad was always pretty modest except when it came to his teaching accolades, and teaching at the college level fed into that jones for him really nicely. I'm pretty sure a lot of colleges do it, but we were supposed to fill out evaluation forms at the end of the semester on whether we dug the professor, and it never failed that Dad, who taught at my alma mater for 10 years would come home with 98 percent stellar evaluations and maybe 2 percent neutral ones; if there was a bad evaluation, I don't remember it. The first time he was ever evaluated, he brought the manila envelope home and whipped them all out, reading each one to Mother and me. You couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
Those good evalautions saved his ass, too, once. The first year he taught, I was the editor-in-chief of the college paper and hung out with my news editor, who was younger and at the time basically idolized me. (Now she hates me and bashes me to mutual acquaintances, which I really don't get, but whatever.) Well, she was always gazzed that, because I was technically considered "staff," I had a staff pass that allowed me to park in premium staff parking. So at one point, she'd sprained her ankle or something, and she asked me to get Dad's staff pass, and she'd pay for it if he would go get another one saying he lost his first one. And all was well until she got busted and admitted to one school cop who turned into a huge dick that she had it. He turned Dad in, and Dad had to go in front of the Arts & Sciences Dean to plead his case. Armed with his excellent evaluations, he went in there, and the Dean was impressed.
Oh, oh, oh, even more impressive? Every year, the school holds an essay contest in freshman composition, which is what Dad taught. In 1988, I won the Fall competition. In the 1998-99 school year? All the winners? Were Dad's students.
Dad was always pretty modest except when it came to his teaching accolades, and teaching at the college level fed into that jones for him really nicely. I'm pretty sure a lot of colleges do it, but we were supposed to fill out evaluation forms at the end of the semester on whether we dug the professor, and it never failed that Dad, who taught at my alma mater for 10 years would come home with 98 percent stellar evaluations and maybe 2 percent neutral ones; if there was a bad evaluation, I don't remember it. The first time he was ever evaluated, he brought the manila envelope home and whipped them all out, reading each one to Mother and me. You couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
Those good evalautions saved his ass, too, once. The first year he taught, I was the editor-in-chief of the college paper and hung out with my news editor, who was younger and at the time basically idolized me. (Now she hates me and bashes me to mutual acquaintances, which I really don't get, but whatever.) Well, she was always gazzed that, because I was technically considered "staff," I had a staff pass that allowed me to park in premium staff parking. So at one point, she'd sprained her ankle or something, and she asked me to get Dad's staff pass, and she'd pay for it if he would go get another one saying he lost his first one. And all was well until she got busted and admitted to one school cop who turned into a huge dick that she had it. He turned Dad in, and Dad had to go in front of the Arts & Sciences Dean to plead his case. Armed with his excellent evaluations, he went in there, and the Dean was impressed.
Oh, oh, oh, even more impressive? Every year, the school holds an essay contest in freshman composition, which is what Dad taught. In 1988, I won the Fall competition. In the 1998-99 school year? All the winners? Were Dad's students.
