paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- meeting of the minds A meeting of the minds Stella and I referred to it as a meeting of the minds as we laughed this afternoon. Big heaping laughter. The laughter of two who could easily slip into the insanity but never do. At least they don�t think they do. A small piece of a bureaucracy that puzzled a table of university staff veterans became Stella�s big task. The esquire ordered her to attend the convocation meeting in her place where a group of staff and administrators continued their weekly meeting of the minds, making the planning of convocation that much more difficult. They wanted to encourage faculty to participate � at this university like at many the faculty resists involvement in the traditions and �joining� activities like graduation and convocation. They though an e-mail from the top academic official would help with encouragement. Here is who sat at the table: 1) the assistant to the vice-top academic official who has been at the university 17 years, 2) a high-ranking staff member in the university communications office, 3) the assistant to the vice-president of the university who has also been there 15 years, 4) an assistant dean of the largest division at the university, 5) the official head event planner, and a few others. The secret that no one could figure out: how to send an e-mail to all of the faculty from the top academic official. Stella mentioned that the faculty member in our office had accomplished this. This woman is new, has not even celebrated her first year anniversary at the university, but Stella would ask. The communications official said he might be able to help if the official procedure came through his office. The assistant to the vice-top academic official insisted she had no clue, and it did not occur to her that she works in the same office as the top academic official and that maybe someone would know. So Stella calls our faculty member who sketches out the following scenario: 1) contact the assistant to the top academic official (aka the boss of the assistant to the vice-top academic official), 2) if e-mail is approved by top academic official, send it over to the office of university communications for mass distribution approval, 3) if it meets that approval, send it to the information department where the husband of the assistant to the vice-top academic official sends it out to the e-mail group. I don�t know why we found this so funny. I know I felt a sense of desperation that the people around the table in charge of running so much at the university and holding so much power truly were not resourceful enough to know that they could find out easily how to handle an all-faculty e-mail. When I think of the power assembled at the table and the fact that the brain trust spent real time on this, I don�t wonder that people are frustrated with meetings. But really the only thing to do is to shake my head and wonder at the culture. I still believe that the university is the last institution in which I want to take part. It is the last place where it is vogue to be skeptical and liberal, to wear rumpled khakis and read the New York Times online in the morning during coffee. The last place where administrative assistants have master�s degrees and are published poets. The last place where people go to the mat for abstract ideas. And we need this institution in our country. But the bureaucracy could swallow the citizens of a small ville whole � sometimes it feels like we work in the belly of the whale, that we�ve been in there for centuries with the plankton and a few wrecked ships. Ideas circulate about how universities can function as halfway houses for social change and other big, dreamy ideas. Some university people think this is great and others are frustrated with the culture and wonder how any idea can be moved from prison through the university to thrive in the real world. But so many adolescents show up on university doorsteps, tired of the imprisonment of adolescence, of their parents� ideas, of being young and not knowing, etc. And some of these people move through the university where they learn, think, dream a bit, get ready for what comes next. After five years or so, they head into the world and some think they grew or changed. Others are jazzed by having the piece of paper and a passport to a career. But still, some felt like their experience in higher education was worth it. Perhaps even not now....
This evening I had drinks with my friend T at a swanky bar in a swanky hotel. We said happy graduation. He asked me who reads poetry, he expressed frustration at not knowing what a poem is and not knowing whether it is good or not. This unknowing is why he does not read poetry. What if it sucks and he didn�t know it? What if it is great and he missed it? He said lots of people write, and they are everywhere... why write? Journalism, the media, essays, nonfiction � there is some filter there, for him, that indicates quality. This astounded me. I�ve always trusted that I can decide whether a work of literature works for me or it doesn�t. I�ve never doubted enough my ability to know enough not to experience the depth of a poem. I always appreciate T�s honesty and getting to see another perspective completely different from my own. I think what I�ve come to accept is that it doesn�t matter whether no one else likes it if it speaks to me. His secondary point was that he perceived a lot of fiction and poetry to be junk. I wonder whether this is true or whether it is a myth that circulates to keep poetry and great short stories from meaning in our lives. 11:00 p.m. - 2003-05-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||