7 PM on a hot Wednesday in Boston
Some of the story:
So I ended up taking an incomplete in one of my classes this past semester, as a result of 1) a crashed computer 2) many many papers 3) a compound meltdown and 4) ugly news. In this one explosively embarrassing episode, I ended up emailing Mr. Eminent Professor, who doesn't really know me, at 3 am, the last day before grades were due in, to tell him there was no paper coming. It was okay, I wrote, if he gave me an F. Instead, he told me about incompletes, which I didn't exactly know existed, and granted me one. He said I had as long as I wanted to write it, but that I should probably finish up before Christmas. And so.
I spent the summer up until this point trying to get my act together, and working at a part time job and taking a Latin class. My plan: wait until this coming Thursday and then begin my paper of doom.
Well. This Saturday morning I got an email from the registrar 'reminding' me that my incomplete would expire on August 1 and would automatically be replaced by an F. When I tried to reply, I got a vacation away message (1.5 hours later). And of course, everything was closed, since it was a weekend.
So predictably I had a total meltdown. After checking the policy online and emailing all the relevant people, I consulted my boss, who used to be a dean, who confirmed that I was screwed backwards and forwards and recommended I commence writing.
So I cried all day Saturday, researched all day Sunday, and planned to spend all Monday and Monday night writing, in between work and class, so as to turn in something on Tuesday morning, affording Mr. Eminent Professor a couple hours to read whatever I produced.
Well. Monday morning, my professor finally checked his email and found my completely frantic letter. He wrote back, "relax", telling me I'd receive "an administrative F" which doesn't mean anything. My boss, the ex-dean, upon consultation, replied that he was full of it. "What," she asks, "is an administrative F???" She exclaims loudly that faculty think they can do whatever they want. She makes me call the registrar. The registrar, who was finally open, eventually tracked down the person who knew, and confirmed that the "official policy" listed in all the documentation was in fact the official policy. She then also confirmed that my professor was right, and the F will be removed as soon as I finish, whenever that happens to be. Unlike with all other types of grade changes, which are disallowed after 30 days, this one is allowed. Even though it is not on the papers. So, basically, I experienced three hellish days for no reason whatsoever, because some bleepity red tape folks decided it would be "a good incentive" to students to do it this way, rather than explicitly having no deadline for incompletes. To avoid the problem at other schools, where grad students finish incompletes years later. To write out the real policy.....would miss the point.
So. It all worked out, it seems, but I'm still smarting from the effects. Relief is insufficient to drown out shame.
* * *
In other news, I've been maimed by the Red Cross. Well, hopefully just temporarily.
A couple of weeks ago, I donated blood, for the first time in a long while. I hadn't been able to for some time, but my blood is finally set again. So this time, my re-inaugural venture, when the technician did his metallic thing, it hurt, as in HURT with a capital H and U and RT, and suddenly my entire arm began to tingle and went numb. I let Mr. Lousy technician know, calmly, and he panicked and took a long time to take the needle out.
90 seconds later, all seemed fine. I donated from my other arm, painlessly, easily, a soft summer breeze, seen to by a lovely lady named Rose. It didn't start to hurt again until later.
Two weeks later, I continue to have minor but really quite bothersome pain in my mistreated arm every time I want to do something useful, say, move my elbow. I called the Red Cross, and the doctor told me that it sounds like they hit a nerve (duh). If I want to see a doctor, they'll pay for everything. So. I'm trying to decide what to do about -that-, since as far as I know, the only thing you can do for nerves is rest and wait and hope. I figure I'll give it another week and then make the Red Cross hire someone to fix me. They are calling me back periodically to check in, and seem unconcerned about the bruise that is suddenly appearing. I persist in hoping it will go away 'tomorrow'. Or, conversely, maybe that they can cut it off and give me a shiny bionic one that will be stronger and can be programed to play the piano and chop really fast like a professional chef.
So I ended up taking an incomplete in one of my classes this past semester, as a result of 1) a crashed computer 2) many many papers 3) a compound meltdown and 4) ugly news. In this one explosively embarrassing episode, I ended up emailing Mr. Eminent Professor, who doesn't really know me, at 3 am, the last day before grades were due in, to tell him there was no paper coming. It was okay, I wrote, if he gave me an F. Instead, he told me about incompletes, which I didn't exactly know existed, and granted me one. He said I had as long as I wanted to write it, but that I should probably finish up before Christmas. And so.
I spent the summer up until this point trying to get my act together, and working at a part time job and taking a Latin class. My plan: wait until this coming Thursday and then begin my paper of doom.
Well. This Saturday morning I got an email from the registrar 'reminding' me that my incomplete would expire on August 1 and would automatically be replaced by an F. When I tried to reply, I got a vacation away message (1.5 hours later). And of course, everything was closed, since it was a weekend.
So predictably I had a total meltdown. After checking the policy online and emailing all the relevant people, I consulted my boss, who used to be a dean, who confirmed that I was screwed backwards and forwards and recommended I commence writing.
So I cried all day Saturday, researched all day Sunday, and planned to spend all Monday and Monday night writing, in between work and class, so as to turn in something on Tuesday morning, affording Mr. Eminent Professor a couple hours to read whatever I produced.
Well. Monday morning, my professor finally checked his email and found my completely frantic letter. He wrote back, "relax", telling me I'd receive "an administrative F" which doesn't mean anything. My boss, the ex-dean, upon consultation, replied that he was full of it. "What," she asks, "is an administrative F???" She exclaims loudly that faculty think they can do whatever they want. She makes me call the registrar. The registrar, who was finally open, eventually tracked down the person who knew, and confirmed that the "official policy" listed in all the documentation was in fact the official policy. She then also confirmed that my professor was right, and the F will be removed as soon as I finish, whenever that happens to be. Unlike with all other types of grade changes, which are disallowed after 30 days, this one is allowed. Even though it is not on the papers. So, basically, I experienced three hellish days for no reason whatsoever, because some bleepity red tape folks decided it would be "a good incentive" to students to do it this way, rather than explicitly having no deadline for incompletes. To avoid the problem at other schools, where grad students finish incompletes years later. To write out the real policy.....would miss the point.
So. It all worked out, it seems, but I'm still smarting from the effects. Relief is insufficient to drown out shame.
* * *
In other news, I've been maimed by the Red Cross. Well, hopefully just temporarily.
A couple of weeks ago, I donated blood, for the first time in a long while. I hadn't been able to for some time, but my blood is finally set again. So this time, my re-inaugural venture, when the technician did his metallic thing, it hurt, as in HURT with a capital H and U and RT, and suddenly my entire arm began to tingle and went numb. I let Mr. Lousy technician know, calmly, and he panicked and took a long time to take the needle out.
90 seconds later, all seemed fine. I donated from my other arm, painlessly, easily, a soft summer breeze, seen to by a lovely lady named Rose. It didn't start to hurt again until later.
Two weeks later, I continue to have minor but really quite bothersome pain in my mistreated arm every time I want to do something useful, say, move my elbow. I called the Red Cross, and the doctor told me that it sounds like they hit a nerve (duh). If I want to see a doctor, they'll pay for everything. So. I'm trying to decide what to do about -that-, since as far as I know, the only thing you can do for nerves is rest and wait and hope. I figure I'll give it another week and then make the Red Cross hire someone to fix me. They are calling me back periodically to check in, and seem unconcerned about the bruise that is suddenly appearing. I persist in hoping it will go away 'tomorrow'. Or, conversely, maybe that they can cut it off and give me a shiny bionic one that will be stronger and can be programed to play the piano and chop really fast like a professional chef.