In my first year of graduate studies at Elite National University, I learned to adjust to quirky instructors, but I had a continuing struggle with the director of the freshman composition program, "Dr. Dreedle." I met him at an orientation for new TA's on the Friday before we first taught. I got to the room and took a seat before anyone else had arrived because I wanted to make a good impression. After a few moments the door opened and in strode an elegantly dressed, elderly male who announced, "I am Dr. Dreedle." I said, "Hi." (Editor's Note: Parts 1, 2, and 3 of this series are online.)
"Don't you know enough to shake hands and introduce yourself?" he replied.
I leapt up and shook hands, but I thought: Oh, no. It's Kingsfield in the flesh.
Since my undergraduate days hadn't exposed me to doctoral studies, I based my understanding of graduate school on that old movie, The Paper Chase, which features John Houseman as Charles Kingsfield, a cold, distant law professor who begins the semester by telling students that their skulls are full of mush. Clearly I'd blundered in my first meeting with his counterpart at Elite National U.
After the orientation session began, Dr. Dreedle said, "In the first-year composition program, we dedicate ourselves to fighting grade inflation." He explained that for each essay assignment we had to fill out a chart to show how many of each grade we gave. "The chart should form a bell curve," he said. "Give no more than one or two A's per assignment."
One of my fellow graduate students, "Sandra," raised her hand. She'd taught in an elementary school and asked, "Our students won't like that system, will they?"
"What they like doesn't matter," Dr. Dreedle replied. "At Elite National University, we give them what they deserve."
Definitely Kingsfield, I thought. Dreedle wore a thin mask of a cultured gentleman, but beneath his perfect suit and tie there lurked an angry contempt. As the afternoon wore on, I included arrogance in his character sketch, and delight in power, since he was the director of the composition program. I cast myself as the protagonist of The Paper Chase. I was James Hart, a first-year law student in the movie who attempts to win the professor over. Hart fails to do so, but he was dealing with a professor of law, while I faced a professor of English. Given the difference, surely I could outdo Hart.
Dr. Dreedle taught a course that beginning TA's were required to take in which he practiced the pedagogy of ego crushing. One day he began class by saying, "You people could never compete with the graduate students of a generation ago." One of the few times he discussed teaching, he gave this advice: "Once a week, refer to something your students don't know. It reminds them that yours is the superior intellect." He followed his own advice in our classroom. Every week he would ask us a question about a book we hadn't read. When no one could answer, he'd say, "Every serious student reads that before coming to graduate school."
His shaming behavior gave me a chance to redeem myself. The next time Dreedle mentioned a should-have-read, I got my hands on a copy and consumed it. I wanted him to praise me, of course, so just before the next class, I said casually, "Over the weekend I read The Education of Henry Adams. It's great. Thanks for suggesting it." Dreedle said only, "Oh," and began class.
One day I asked "Marcus," an advanced student in the program, to tell me about Dreedle.
"Kiss his rear," said Marcus, "and he'll let you live."
"I figured that out on my own."
Marcus thought for a moment. "There's a rumor he used to be a professional wrestler."
I laughed at the idea of a masked, caped Dreedle stomping around a wrestling ring and bellowing outrageous claims. When I thought about the professor's alpha-male teaching style, however, I wondered how much distance there was between the Director of First-Year Comp and, say, the Masked Crusher.
"Did he really do that?" I asked.
"If you'd been a pro wrestler, would you go to grad school?" Marcus faked a yawn. "In English?"
I liked the idea of Dreedle as the Masked Crusher, but I gave up on it and sought other ways to impress him. Once when he was getting into an elevator, I dashed to join him. When the ride began, I made conversation by talking about an undergrad professor who had influenced me.
Dr. Dreedle said, "You should write a letter and tell him."
The horror of adding yet one more task to my load must have registered on my face, but I said, "That's a good idea. I'll do that."
As the elevator door opened and Dr. Dreedle stepped out, he mumbled, "No, you won't."
I dashed to my apartment and wrote that letter, but afterward I could hardly say to Dreedle, "I wrote to my former professor. Now you have to be impressed."
One afternoon I went to the university library to do a little research on Dreedle. I expected that a professor nearing retirement at Elite National University would have a lengthy list of publications, but I found only a few dated, ho-hum articles about obscure poets. His articles were much easier to comprehend than the writing of my other professors, however, which, for some reason, made me feel confident that I could impress him if only I tried harder.
I tried once again when a student in one of my sections of freshman comp asked me about the absence policy. The syllabus seemed clear: Miss a certain number of times and your grade drops a full letter; miss more and you fail. But my student noted that that particular policy was for arts and sciences, whereas he had enrolled in engineering, which had stricter guidelines. Which policy applied to him?
I figured I could show my conscientiousness as a TA by running my student's question past Dr. Dreedle. "We hold all students to our standard," he snapped. "You'd know that if you bothered to check the undergraduate catalog."
I wanted to slap my forehead and say, "Oh, I forgot to memorize the undergraduate catalog." I come from the Midwest, however, so I only apologized and retreated.
After class that day I asked my colleague Sandra, "What do you know about Dr. Dreedle?"
"One day in the lounge he did a Cary Grant imitation," she said. "He was terrible."
We laughed at the idea of Dreedle as a romantic lead in a movie. I asked, "Have you ever seen Paper Chase?"
Sandra's eyes went wide. "Kingsfield," she exclaimed. "Yes, yes, Kingsfield!" We roared together as we recalled Hart's many attempts to impress his professor.
One day, my own personal Kingsfield surprised me. As I was walking behind Dr. Dreedle down the hall and toward a stairway next to the English lounge, the professor opened the door to the lounge and gestured inside.
"Thanks," I said, "but I'm going down the stairs."
"No you're not," he announced. "You're going in here."
I walked obediently into the English lounge. "How is 'Juan' doing?" Dr. Dreedle asked. Juan was a quiet guy who didn't mingle with the rest of the graduate students. I said, "I don't know. He isolates himself."
"Make sure that Juan doesn't drop out," said Dr. Dreedle. "Befriend him. See that he attends social functions. Have other students invite him to dinner."
I suspect that my jaw dropped. Dr. Dreedle didn't ask if I would help; he assumed I would, just as he assumed that a first-year TA had the time to take on a project like Juan. At the same time, however, I felt surprised that a notoriously callous professor wanted to rescue a student in trouble. More important, Dreedle trusted me enough to give me the mission. I said, "I'd be glad to help Juan."
So I set out to help my self-isolating colleague. On several occasions I tried chatting with Juan, but his only interest in the world was a handful of contemporary poets I'd never heard of, so our conversations went nowhere. Whenever grad students held a party, I made sure that Juan knew about it, but he never showed up. I annoyed students who cooked by hinting that they might invite Juan to dinner, but none did. Once I bumped into him off the campus, and he invited me to his apartment for coffee. When we got there, he discovered he was out of coffee, so he handed me a single pecan from a jar of mixed nuts, after which I went home.
At the end of the academic year, the English department held a banquet, and Juan actually attended. I felt responsible for this miracle. As people milled about during the cocktail hour, I worked my way through the crowd to Dr. Dreedle, who was chatting with Sandra and several other students. When I got close, I observed, "I see that Juan came."
Unexpectedly, Dreedle announced, "I'd like to buy a drink for my deserving graduate student."
Me? His deserving graduate student? I opened my mouth to thank him, but Dr. Dreedle took Sandra's arm and said, "Excuse us, Adams."
So even though Dreedle handed me an opportunity, I failed to win over my own personal Kingsfield. Unlike Hart, however, I won a small victory. At the end of The Paper Chase, after all their adventures, Kingsfield isn't even sure of Hart's name. At least Dr. Dreedle remembered mine.
Comments
1. cmcclain - December 18, 2009 at 06:43 am
Perhaps "Dr. Dreedle" was simply able to distinguish brown nosing from sincere inquiry.
2. 22228715 - December 18, 2009 at 08:29 am
Ha ha! I'm always tempted to put down that sort of annoying faculty persona... but I suppose he got you to do what he wanted you to do, so he seems to have pretty good outcome achievement. He even found a way to nudge you to read non-assigned books, and take an unpaid position as a retention specialist. From a big picture perspective, it's hard to fault that sort of productivity!
3. fsvoboda - December 18, 2009 at 10:05 am
College professors are not required to cater excessively to their students, and some professors' public personalities are calculated to bring out the best in their students. It seems likely to me that is what "Dreedle" was doing, and "Henry Adams" didn't quite figure out the game. Perhaps it's time for him to write a letter of thanks to Dreedle.
4. tsull - December 18, 2009 at 01:20 pm
Nice story. I thought "Dreedle" was on the right path all along. Too many undergrads and grad students want life on easy street. They want everyone to be nice, every dorm to be The Ritz, all the food to be perfect, the campus to be picture perfect, and the profs to be not only bright, but oh-so-nice.
Bunk. Suffer a little. If undergrads and grads suffered a little instead of being handed Taj Mahal recreation facilities and fancy dorms, we'd have a better product of student. "Dreedle" was right on how to grade and right on how to treat students and his TA's. Make them try a bit. I had an undergraduate teacher just like him -- hated by many on campus -- he transformed me from a slacker to a solid student, and helped me get a job after college.
These kids of tough teachers are hidden gems, given bad raps by pampered students.
5. tsull - December 18, 2009 at 01:21 pm
Up above it should read these "kinds" of tough teachers, not "kids" -- my tough teacher would've killed me.
6. john_drake - December 18, 2009 at 03:44 pm
Tsull said: "Dreedle was right on how to grade and right on how to treat students and his TA's."
So you think all comp programs--perhaps all departments in all universities--should be run by manipulative martinets?
7. rcosgrov - December 18, 2009 at 03:57 pm
"Bunk. Suffer a little."? As if people need our help to suffer? The thread of "good for professor Dreedle" I see here is disturbing. It *is* possible for authority figures to do the necessary personal work in learning to be be gracious, compassionate, and uncompromising. If you think Mr. Dreedle is working hard enough, your conceptualizations of rigor are pretty self-indulgent, self-serving, and self-important.
Suffer a little? Do you really think that's a lesson all of us need from professors? I fear for the future if you are still influencing minds with that brand of pedagogy. I'm also grateful I'm not managed by 22228715, who apparently applauds exploitation if it gets the desired results.
Intellectual work is meaningful work, hard work, and we suffer and struggle to do it well and with integrity. There is satifaction and joy to be found there--too bad Dr. Dreedle and his "calculated" teaching persona didn't have the wherewithal or "intellectual superiority" to teach that, and too bad our profession is still so backward that he receives so much approval here.
8. minnesotan - December 18, 2009 at 08:04 pm
How quickly old professors forget what it was like to be young grad students. All of that walking uphill (both ways!) in the snow must affect the memory.
9. jflahiff - December 19, 2009 at 05:51 am
I think there is a fine line between disrespecting students and holding students to high standards.
Not sure where the line is, but I do recall a professor saying it was his duty to make us suffer.
I retorted that I didn't have time to suffer and went on.and on ( I was a grad student, but not in his dept and was paying my own way thru grad school)..That same day (did he cave in? start to respect us while still demanding?)...he let us finish our oral presentations before tearing into us...at that moment I had more respect for him and the "scholarly process"...and was inspired to work even harder..I still struggled...but without needless suffering
10. amnirov - December 19, 2009 at 06:09 am
Grad students deserve most of what they get and then some. Anyone who suggests otherwise either is a graduate student right now, or has somehow mysteriously forgotten how utterly insufferable she or he was back in the day. Self obsessed, ill-read, egotistical, mostly ignorant of her or his own department's practices and procedures, wrapped up in some inordinately obscure backwater of knowledge wrapped in obtuse theoretical jargon. You go, Dreedle, give the students what for.
11. oioioi - December 19, 2009 at 09:35 am
I don't know if the student or the professor in this story is more pathetic.
12. 11264553 - December 19, 2009 at 01:28 pm
I think about half the commenters are worse than both together.
13. major_energy - December 20, 2009 at 03:16 pm
It is an interesting series of articles, either way.
14. tsull - December 21, 2009 at 10:43 pm
Sure they should suffer a little. The real world isn't without its pitfalls. When you get out of grad school, your job won't be cushy and without some tough co-workers or bosses. Why should all grad students be told life is a trip on easy street.
Was Dreedle perfect? No. At times was his ego out of control? Yes. I do find it interesting that he cared more about the shy student than his so-called enlightened grad students, who really need to get over themselves. You're not finding the cure for cancer, you're teaching English. A great subject, yes, but from what it sounds like, any department chair or elderly prof would've rubbed them the wrong way. I've worked for far worse than Dreedle. He's doing what he should: Pushing his students to be their best.
15. palex1966 - December 22, 2009 at 12:45 pm
"I don't know if the student or the professor in this story is more pathetic."
"I think about half the commenters are worse than both together."
This entire page (the article and several of the responses) is an illustration of the dysfunction perpetuated and accepted in academia. Dr. Dreedle was using classic egotistical manipulation and Adams was too naive (and too influenced by pop culture) to challenge Dreedle on his management of students.
Too often academic management and student learning become mixed with the professor and/or student's need for attention (or other emotional weaknesses). Dreedle's advice to refer to a new book every week is a good idea, but not because it retains the power differential between teacher and taught, but because it maintains the image of a body of knowledge that the student can aspire to acquiring.
Anyone in a teaching position should respect the learner's humanity, which includes not demeaning their location within a life time of learning. Similarly, standards of professionalism and academic rigor should be transparent and consisten. Neglecting one for the sake of the other diminishes the professor, the student and the institution.
16. dwilliamson8 - December 24, 2009 at 05:20 pm
Sorry, Dreedle is an insecure ass. It is possible to hold students and TAs to a high standard without being abusive. Only in a tenure system can someone get away with this kind of behavior for long.
17. realtyannie - December 27, 2009 at 06:46 am
Discourteous, disrespectful, rude, unprofessional communication is inappropriate in any setting, including the graduate classroom.
Suggesting that verbal abuse is an acceptable way of dealing with people in a subservient position perpetuates all that is wrong in our society. It is sickening that academics would praise this behavior.
How many of Dreedle's students used this example as an excuse to mistreat others in their own eventual careers as professors?
18. ddgala8 - December 28, 2009 at 11:38 am
When I was a graduate student I found it a waste of time trying to impress my professors. As a family man in his early 30s with 3 children and a business, I was too busy trying to get my work done and do a good job. Although I was a research assistant and not a TA, my approach would have been no different. After receiving my Ph.D. from Elite National Research U., and getting a book and article published, it became evident to me that the work product is most important.
Arrogance was never respected nor received well by me. I observed those who were in their early 20s act like a bunch of brown-nosed high school children, when they were around some arrogant faculty member. When these young students tried their new found personality trait (arrogance) on me, they were met with a harsh tongue lashing. They didn't try it again.
19. drsam - December 29, 2009 at 02:12 pm
I teach college and grad level courses plus have a great private practice. This type of professor is an extreme narcissist, insecure, with no heart for students. He is the center of his small universe. Students and others will disdain him and behind his back they call him an "a??hole". I marvel at his insistence of forcing students into a bell-curve. What this shows me is that he believes he is God. He knows beforehand how many A's and F's there will be. This tells me that he is incompetent and does not give a damn about inspiring and motivating his students to learn. A great teacher is able to help just about anyone to learn. The greatest ones are those that take as many learners with them into the land of accomplishment. This professor is a failure and shame to the profession. If I were his boss, I would fire him. Oh... but he is tenured probably... sad.
Samuel Lopez De Victoria, Ph.d.
20. amnirov - December 31, 2009 at 08:28 am
When one is briefing graduate students on what to expect when grading a typical freshman class, a bell curve with no more than 2 As is pretty decent advice. I've been teaching since 1992, and I've never had to bell a class, but the 2 A observation is sound. Sometimes there are 3 or 4, sometimes there are none, but overall, it probably works out to 2 As. Dreedle was just trying to teach them to be realistic and not to be responsible for grade inflation.
PS to Sam... bold face is kind of strident
21. kidsvoog - January 07, 2010 at 02:50 am
Record what this guy says; put it on the student radio station.
Shed some light on this guy.