Entry 26: Core Unit

From the archives: In the earlier part of the 20th century, Kookie was a university professor. As the symptoms of the Cwazy Gene developed, his professional decision-making began to suffer.  Here’s the full story, from the unauthorised biography by Louis the lorikeet.

Back in the old days, when Kookie had just got the Cwazy Gene, the symptoms were more subtle than they are now. Kookie was working as a philosophy professor at a prestigious university, with full tenure. This job security had given him a bit of an attitude problem, where he felt like any mistakes he made, or corners he cut, were forgiven in “the wide latitude of tenure”. The Cwazy Gene made his attitude problem only worse, until it became difficult to ignore.

In the student newspaper at the time, ‘Campus Compendium’, one of Kookie’s students wrote to the editor:

In last week’s edition you asked students to name the most exceptional teacher among our professors. Well, I would like to put in my vote for the worst. Prefacing my statement with a brief note that I have no personal aversion to birds, not even the ones that decide to teach rather than flit about like you would think more natural, Professor Banjo is – altogether objectively – a terrifically atrocious teacher of young minds. But my grievance would not be half so bad if it were not for the pain Professor Banjo has inflicted on me and my peers in denying our access to a core unit of study! Every semester, without fail, Professor Banjo offers this core unit and then, once the semester begins, cancels it citing “great personal difficulties”, knowing full well it would be rude of us to ask what these difficulties consist of. Of course, then he promises to offer the core unit again the following semester, only the pattern recurs each time: students enrol, wishfully, daringly expecting it would work out this time – only for the course to be cancelled due to the aforementioned “personal difficulties”. Now pray tell me, how are we, the student body in the philosophy department, to graduate without ever completing this core unit? The answer is we cannot. And what exactly are these personal difficulties? And why don’t they interfere with Professor Banjo’s delivery of any other unit of study, only this unit? Does Professor Banjo have an irrational fear of this core unit? If so, why not pass it on to another professor to teach instead of insisting that he himself will teach it at each newly deferred date...? Only to cancel it again. I mean for goodness sake, he’s been cancelling the unit for two years now and I would really like to graduate.

After the note was published and given the widespread reaction, the newspaper sent one of its writers undercover to watch Kookie’s next announcement of the unit being cancelled. It was the first week of the following semester and the lecture room was filled to the brim with expectant students. Kookie dawdled in, 10 minutes late, and peered up at the crowd from the front.

“Unfortunately-”

Everyone groaned. One student started sobbing.

“Unfortunately,” Kookie yelled over the sobbing student, “This core unit must be cancelled.”

“Oh, and why’s that?” a student asked, knowing Kookie only paused so that the question could be asked.

“Due to- and I emphasise- great personal difficulties.”

It was too much for anyone to take anymore. Yelling over one another, they all demanded to know immediately what these difficulties were.      

“These difficulties are of a personal nature.” Kookie brandished a piece of chalk and began to draw in elaborate strokes on the blackboard. The students looked on grimly as he drew two large circles, one labelled ‘personal’ and the other ‘public’.

“This is Philosophy 101,” Kookie explained, hitting the tip of the chalk against the blackboard for emphasis. “We have these two spheres here. This is the personal sphere and this is the public sphere” (‘poooblic’). Kookie pointed at a student, “You! Tell me what you notice.”

The student went red in the face and stuttered, “Umm, well, the circles are equally large so… equally important?”

“No, no, no,” Kookie admonished, “The size does not matter. The size is inconsequential. See,” He ran a cross over one of the circles and drew it again, this time much larger. “See! See what I did here. One of the spheres could be-’ – struggling for the right word – “Positively, absolutely, dwarfed by the other! That does not matter one bit, whether you have more of the public issues or more of the personal issues. What matters is that they do not touch. That means, if I have a personal difficulty, it is not – it cannot by definition – be a public issue. So, then, how can I answer your questions? It is philosophically impossible.”

“Oh, cut the act and just tell us what your deal is!” someone called out and others nodded and yelled in agreement.

“Okay, I will explain it all to you.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

Kookie began writing on the board again. “See here,” he pointed at what he had just written (all the days of the week and then times underneath each day). “Due to personal commitments, I am only available currently – temporarily I mean, for this semester only – on: Monday, Friday and Sunday. Now, on Monday, I am available at 12pm noon and midnight. But we already have another course that I teach at 12pm noon which, due to extenuating circumstances, can only be taught this semester. So, that means that only midnight is available. Unfortunately, it requires extensive policy changes for the administration to allow students to attend at this time. It remains my nomination. On Friday I can also teach,” Kookie tapped his chalk against the ‘Friday’ scrawled on the board, and then the times written underneath. “However, I am only available in 15-minute increments from 10:16am to 10:31am, 12:32pm to 12:47pm and finally, 5:15pm to 5:30pm. Again, not a bad idea. But the administration takes issue with teaching across increments of time scattered throughout the day. It is a plausible option, is my conclusion. Then there is Sundays. On Sundays, I can teach the entire day. All of the hours are listed. But I cannot attend campus, you must join me in my outdoors excursions. You may be required to do some free manual labour, or negotiate deals, but in compensation I will teach the course curriculum at triple-speed and expand your professional networks.”

It was reported by the newspaper writer that the room had pretty much cleared out before Kookie had begun explaining the Sunday option. Eventually, the issue was resolved when the university succumbed to pressure from the students and no longer required them to take this particular core unit of study to graduate.