Time to shut it down

Most of you are aware of how much I love my office. Aside from my family (and Jason Whitten) there's nothing I enjoy more than sitting down in my own personal quiet pace with the door closed, my computer on, and my dissertation materials all easily accessible. It's the one place the scholar-nerd in me can be truly happy.

So why will I probably spend this week at home working on the kitchen table with my exams, papers, and research materials inter-mingled with Meg's drawings of happy little girls and giant birthday cakes?

I'm in hiding.

Yesterday was the first day of finals week, which means that a tidal wave of underachieving students has crested over my office, and the flotsam and jetsam of the student body is still clinging to the walls of the hallways. This is the time of year when the surfer and the sunburned wipe the sand out their eyes and begin shuffling off to their professor's offices in a half-hearted attempt to negotiate a passing grade.

Yesterday I was beseiged with requests, demands, excuses, angry emails, sob stories, and explanations as to why it was my fault they didn't understand what to do. (Of course, there are many bright, intelligent, dedicated students here as well. But you generally don't see them thise week because they're busy doing what they normally do - studying and preparing to succeed on the final.) Here's a few sound bytes from the soundtrack that was yesterday for me:

"I know I didn't turn in most of my work, but you haven't been very accomodating with your deadlines."

"Can I do this assignment over again? The first time I didn't read th instructions about there being two parts."

"Can you tell me what's going to be on the final?"

"Could you look over my paper and tell me if its good or not before I hand it in?"

"What do I need to do to pass this class?"

"I need at least a C- or my family will lose their housing privileges at TVA."

"I didn't turn in most of the assignments, so could you give me some extra-credit work to do?"

"I'm sorry I plagiarized my first research paper, but if you give me another chance I promise I'll actually do the research myself this time."

"I had a hard time concentrating in class because I was captivated by your rugged good looks and gorgeous hair."

"Professor Strate, are you aware that your website 301NIB is currently the target of a hostile takeover by the Sheinhardt wig company?"

After a while, I tried ignoring the knocks and pretending I wasn't there. Some students just got the department secretary to knock on the door for them. It was terrifying.

In the face of such an assault, I will now do what professors have always done. I'll run away. Students can communicate with me through email if they really need something, and then I have a chance to screen what is important and what is whining.

I am the hunted.