Crazy Gets a C

Jillian wrestled a K cup out of the annoying spinning holder someone had introduced in the faculty lounge, probably as a feeble attempt to instill some sort of order on the permanently coffee-stained gray laminate counter.  This happened every so often.  Someone would declutter their home kitchen and suddenly we would have a cute table runner under the coffee maker or a stray placemat that probably no longer belonged to a set.  One day we came in to a four slice toaster with a post-it note that said, "This is a toaster.  It cooks bread."  Loved that, except we always had to hide it when the fire inspector came and once it was hidden we forgot all about it.

As the Keurig sputtered into Jillian's  "Tears of my Students" mug, Sally noticed her drawn expression.  "What's up kiddo? she asked, "are the students making you crazy?"  Jillian responded with a wry laugh and made her way to the wobbly table - another donation from somewhere that appeared one Monday morning.  "This is a biggie, Sal.  One of my students gave a presentation on schizophrenia and used herself as the visual aid."  She had everyone's attention now.  "How exactly does one do that?" asked M a Melanie, a very proper English professor who sported what Sally called an "academic mullet."  While projecting Jane Austen primness from the front, Sally was shocked when she spotted copious tattoos beginning on the nape of Melanie's neck and was actually delighted because she couldn't stand perfect people. Melanie was definitely big on projecting perfect, so we all took secret pleasure in her dark side, with Sanji going so far as to check out Melanie's social media profile, discovering an equally inked beau with his arms wrapped around Melanie.  Both their arms were covered with black vines and roses.  Sanji screenshot the picture and shared it with her trusted few.  Melanie was Endlessly Fascinating.

Jillian continued. "Well, we got through the introduction and definition, then she announced that she was schizophrenic and boy, would we all be surprised if one day she didn't take her medication.  She went on to describe some pretty disturbing domestic incidents involving a pair of scissors, pirouetted slowly  to show herself to all, went back to explaining common treatments, forgot to do a conclusion and just plopped down in her seat. She had no outline and no bibliography."  Melanie coyly put her hand to her mouth which Sally would later point out was completely on brand, at least for her front side.  "The problem," Jillian continued, "is that she didn't do anything I require.  It was too short, missing a real visual aid and she had no research.  I mean, technically that's an F."   Pompous Rick was there as well, and after pulling his tiny ponytail tighter by grasping half of it with each stubby hand and giving a tug, delivered his standard response.  "Look, you have to fail them.  None of us want to, but she didn't get the job done.  You can't be soft just because of mental illness."

Jillian just stared at him for a moment then said, "It's not the mental illness Rob, it's the fucking scissors, okay?  I don't think she's going to take an F gracefully."  Something about Rick unleashed Jillian's F bombs at an alarming rate.  Almost unconsciously, the entire room turned to Sally, who had nicknamed herself a "truthstorian" after hearing it on a show starring Ethan Hawke.  She had a soft spot for him ever since his poem about the sweaty tooth monster in Dead Poets Society.

"Let's all be real, shall we?" she began.  "Jilly,  I feel your pain.  We all want to have standards and rigor and hold the students accountable.  There's just one tiny problem.  We accept everyone.  We are the almighty second, third and fourth chance for the masses.  That is what open admissions means.  I learned it the hard way when I was first here, about fifty pounds ago, when everything on me was perky and bright.  She looked at her enormous chest and laughed.  We joined in until she looked up sharply and said "Hey, don't laugh.  I was a cutey-patootey!  Anyhoo, I've got this jangled up Vietnam vet in the room." at which point Rick sat up abruptly, ready to defend the war that led to his one successful volume of poetry and a lifetime of mediocre teaching, but there was no need.  "And he starts hanging around after class, and I'm young and naive,  but after a couple classes where he kept telling the students to go ahead to he could be alone with me, and ask me some stupid unnecessary questions, I figured it out.  Well, it was everything the students say, cringe, creepy, lurky.  Then he starts complaining to the dean that I'm not noticing the "hidden messages" he's putting in his papers, just for little old me!  A complete weirdo.  Well, I got the biggest guy in that class alone one time and told him, you always walk me out, and you never leave me alone in that classroom with anyone else. After a few weeks of that, he got the message."

Melanie looked shocked and said, "Wait, didn't the dean remove him? That's harassment!"  Sally guffawed.  "Honey, this was the early 90s.  The dean told me I should be flattered."  A red blush ran up Melanie's neck and she looked a bit queasy.

"So it comes to the end of the semester and of course he had gone off the rails, missed a ton of classes and his writing was garbage, and now I have to give him a grade.  Should he have failed?  Probably but nope, that is when I decided and Katie, you need to do the same.  First, was this guy ever going to be the leader of the free world?  Nope.  Was he ever going to have his finger on the button for the atom bomb? Nope.  Hell, would he even graduate?  Who knows?  So here's the policy folks:  Crazy Gets a C.  Got it?  They pass, you avoid seeming spiteful, and you keep yourself off the scissor list."  Jillian nodded and seemed relieved.  "That's what I"ll do.  She knows she's not doing great.  I'll go with the C."  Rick announced, 'Ah, the damning-with-faint-praise approach.  I must admit, I cannot really relate.  My students can handle the truth and no-one has ever 'lurked" as you put it, Sally."  She barely suppressed an eye roll.  "Most men never experience this shit, Rick.  Jesus.  Come to think of it that asshole dean is the one who hired you!" Rick sputtered "I have no idea who you are talking about," leaving with a bit of butter stuck in his beard.

Melanie had carefully refolded her paper napkin and was using it to gently brush crumbs into her cupped right hand. She had been with us only two years and since admin snatched her up for honors classes almost immediately, she hadn't been out in the general population as much.  "Well I've learned quite a lot today!  I can't imagine that happens often, though."  Sally cocked her head and said, "Ummm, sure.  Hardly ever."  As Melanie left the room, patting the wrinkles in her gray would pencil skirt, Sally just shook her head at Jillian who said, "I'm not going to tell her."  "Don't," said Sally.  "We all learn in our own way."