An axiom of real estate is that the three most important determinants of property values are "location, location, and location." Recently I noted a related question that came up on an e-mail list: How can a college overcome problems related to its location?

Location really does affect faculty and staff searches, as well as retention. Sometimes the setting is too urban, sometimes it's too rural. The local context may be booming or it may be economically depressed. Sometimes housing is expensive and spartan, sometimes it is inexpensive and sprawling. Some communities offer ample employment for members of the extended household; in others employment is sparse. Local schools can be excellent or they can be frustratingly flawed. Even the most wonderful of institutions can be hamstrung by a location that negatively affects its work.

What advice might you offer to colleges with locations that...

At many American colleges and universities in the early days of the Republic, it was common practice for faculty members to live on the campus with their families. In fact, it was almost as common for students to live with faculty members, with professors' wives (faculties were almost all male back then) serving as house mothers for the resident students, cooking their meals and taking care of their laundry.

While the arrangements have changed, many campuses still offer some kind of on-campus housing for faculty and staff members. Sometimes there are cute little cottages scattered around scenic grounds, sometimes there are fairly mundane apartments, and sometimes there are unused dorm rooms peppered among traditional undergraduate student populations. Occasionally such housing is a part of the salary package, though more commonly it is offered at market prices.

Do you have any experience...

At the beginning of Dr. Newsome's first year on campus, her department chair slipped into her office and closed the door. "I need to talk to you about one of your colleagues," she whispered. "Many of the students in one of your classes had his section last year, and he misteaches some of the concepts that are foundational to your course."

The professor's poor guidance was based on his failure to update his understanding of materials the students relied on, the chair said. She asked Dr. Newsome to devote part of a class period early in the semester to show students the correct way to interpret the information.

"Sorry about this, but he's taught the course for 20 years, and he'll retire in a few years. It's not worth the aggravation I'll face if I remove him from the course, and he's not interested in revisiting his course notes and assignments. It will just be easier if you tell the...

Perhaps you saw the recent piece in The Chronicle about what presidents are thinking during commencement.

Since I have to read names of graduates as a part of my duties as dean, I spend the entire time thinking about the pronunciation charts that students have provided me for their names. After I'm done with that task, I'm pretty much a blank slate for the remainder of the ceremony. I'm just ready for the arrival of summer.

I can't help but ask: what do faculty members think while they're sitting through commencement ceremonies?

Not long ago I had an interesting conversation with a former administrator at another college who had posed this question to faculty members: Would you rather teach larger classes if you could reduce your overall load?

His question worked like this: Instead of teaching, say, four classes with a total of 80 students (averaging 20 students per section), would a faculty member actually find it more efficient to teach three classes but with the same total of 80 students (averaging just under 28 students per section)? Faculty loads would drop from 24 hours to 18 hours for the year in such a scenario.

As I understood it, the administrator never went ahead with the switch, but the question is an interesting one. I suspect that the answer might vary according to discipline or kind of institutions. For those valuing one-on-one instruction and mentoring, the larger class sizes might affect the...

One phrase we hear a great deal is "academic freedom." It comes up in faculty interviews, in discussions with community folks, in the news media, even in chats with extended-faculty members. It's one of those terms that somewhat defies definition.

Because of its imprecision and variability, "academic freedom" often morphs into the default defense of anyone in academe who is caught doing something that violates policy or even public safety. I've heard of it being invoked in cases of:

• Refusal to move an office from one building to another, when an entire department was being relocated,

• Court proceedings as a legal defense, in claims that academic research was the purpose of alleged fraud/racketeering that had led to criminal charges.

• Sexual involvement with a graduate student who was helping in research.

• Teaching content that wanders well beyond the catalogued description of a course,...

The Chronicle's Web site has included several stories and essays lately about student evaluations, and I've been pondering the process a bit since I have to review these forms as a part of annual faculty reviews. Some time ago I cringed at this comment for an advanced English course: "I have learned more in this one grammer class than in any other class I've ever had." As I have pondered that comment and many others like it, I've come to the conclusion that one of the problems with our current culture of evaluation is that it makes no allowances for irony and sarcasm. I'm pretty sure that the comment in that class was meant to be humorous, but the written text had no context allotted for such a tone. Traditional-age students in particular seem to be marked by deep levels of irony, and as an administrator, I think it's important for me to note that possibility whenever I can.

Do you think ...

Recently I read a story that identified the top automobile "flops" of all time, and immediately I thought of my first car: a 1971 Ford Pinto, affectionately known as the "Cherry Bomb." In reading the story, I got the distinct impression that there were several of these auto models about which no one in the company was willing to say “No!” along the way, as the project grew "too large to fail." Momentum, a powerful force in any organization, can lead to incredible flops.

Anyone who has been in academe for long has been part of more than one project that just screamed for someone to say "No." But committees are stacked with insiders or bootlicks or other such folks, who have neither the political will nor the actual power to stop the runaway train. Sometimes it is a curricular "innovation," sometimes a new degree, sometimes an organizational overhaul.

Have you ever watched one of these...

Dean Pepper sat down to review Chair Smith's hiring plans for the next year. Growth in the college's undergraduate programs had put pressure on the department's general-education courses and the numbers had finally passed the magic mark that would yield a new faculty slot the following year.

Additionally, a long-serving professor had announced retirement plans, so the department would be conducting two searches instead of one, a rare opportunity for a department that had conducted only one search in the past decade (which had resulted in the hiring of a departmental alum).

Pepper listened to the chair outline the specialties that would be the best fit for their course offerings. As she reviewed the various courses, however, she realized that there were many holes in the department's upper-level curriculum. No new courses had been added in over 15 years. There were, she thought, glaring...

During an on-campus interview, I was once asked, "Outside of your specific specialty area, which two classes would you most like to teach?" At the time, I thought it was a question that sought to see how well I knew the department's cataloged offerings. I joyfully chimed in with two courses that I would have loved to teach, ones where I knew the material and had taken comprehensive examinations in the minor areas of my doctorate.

When I didn't get the job, I talked at length with one of my mentors, and when I mentioned this question, he said, "Ooh, you didn't catch that it was a poison-pill question. They wanted to see if you were going to be a threat to anyone's territory. Let me guess: The courses you cited were ones currently taught by senior members of the department, right?"

I shook my head affirmatively.

"You took the poison, then. Next time just say 'Anything the department needs!'...