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During my 25 years as a professor at Saint Francis, I read countless student essays and research papers -- some good, some bad, and some surprisingly funny.
And though I've forgotten many of those papers (and sadly some of the students), one student's "contribution to the literature," as professors say, sticks with me 15 years after I retired.
The paper began with one word: "Sup?"
Having no idea what this word meant, I asked a young secretary -- not much older than the students and accustomed to questions from clueless professors.
"It means 'What's up?'" she said, "like, 'How're you doing?'"
"Really?" I said.
If you have read papers by collegians, you probably have developed a sense of humor (in addition to gray hair). These young authors strive to be taken seriously, but often write some seriously funny stuff.
Some examples I saved:
-- A student was impressed that the chef at a "Holyday In Hotel" received the "Cord on Blue" medal and "wrote his own autobiography."
-- A junior with a campus job explained that the "Student Activities Office provides students with activities not otherwise provided."
-- A senior in trouble with the Dean of Students (on the "Other Dean's List" as professors say), denounced the University's disciplinary policies: "The school does not have the right to regulate different situations as they become in need of such."
-- A sophomore criticized the University Placement Office (a perennial target of undergraduates): "The Career Development Office needs to sit down and discuss what priority of what is the most important to the least."
-- A marketing major concluded that "the attitudes of the members involved with the marketing of the women's basketball team all have excellent attitudes about their jobs." (When shown her error, the student said: "I must have been in a transom.")
Undergraduates might be forgiven for such writing (though they never were at Saint Francis) because national studies say they don't write very well.
In their defense, though, collegians are inundated with Educationese, the tortuous
slanguage of college administrators and professors.
-- In Educationese, studies of "indigenous populations" or "homogeneous socio-economic units" may be either "multidimensional" or "multidisciplinary," but the conclusions of such "cross-cultural inquiries" must always be "transferable."
-- "Questions create learning modes that enable transpersonal interactions to yield expected student outcomes." This from a young professor encouraging students to ask questions in class. Pausing, the new prof asked, "Questions?" (No hands went up.)
-- The San Francisco Art Institute advertised for an academic dean and asked candidates to send their resumes and a statement of their "educational philosophy." Taking no chances, the Institute wisely defined "educational philosophy" as "what you think an Art School should be."
The Chronicle of Higher Education, Aug. 4, 1982, p. 43:
-- At the first meeting of a committee interviewing people for a job, the chair said, "Our objective is to develop a perceptual parameter to guide the search process."
"Pardon me," asked a committee member. "Don't we need some operational definitions?"
"I agree," said another member. "We can't do a thing without a cognitive framework."
"You're right," said the chair. "I think we have commonality."
When the committee imploded after knifing each other's preferred candidates, the provost told the group, "Knock it off. You need something on-going going on."
Educationese has an impressive vocabulary, but nine of its words have been elected to its coveted Hall of Fame:
Leading off and playing center field, the Georgia Peach, Ty Cognitive.
Playing second base, the Fordham Flash, Frankie Framework.
Hitting third and playing right field, the Bambino, Babe Rudiment.
Lou Generic, the Iron Horse, will play first and bat fourth.
Playing left field, Stan "The Man" Multidimensional.
Playing third and hitting sixth is Pie Programmatic.
Playing shortstop and hitting seventh, Pee Wee Parameter.
Catching and batting eighth, Yogi Behavioral.
And pitching today, the mystifying Dizzy Dialogue.
(The lineup reflects the actual playing positions of Hall of
Famers Ty Cobb, Frankie Frisch, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Stan Musial, Pie Traynor, Pee Wee Reese, Yogi Berra and Dizzy Dean.)
With this legendary roster having been announced, the home plate umpire (himself once a professor) can start the game:
"Implement the Conventions of the National Pastime Progression!"
Dr. Dennis P. McIlnay is Professor Emeritus in the Shields School of Business at Saint Francis University. He is the author of five books. The imaginary Hall of Fame lineup first appeared in McIlnay's article, "Preposterous Proposalese," Foundation News and Commentary. Council on Foundations, March/April 1990. Used by permission.