I recently sat across some people who were talking about a project one of them was involved in; from what I could discern, it was some book-sharing thing that’d conceivably give poor schools access to a pool of books and other resource materials. Or at least, I think that’s what they were talking about. If that’s what it was, then it’s really one of the things I can get behind; in my brief experience teaching at a couple of local colleges, I’ve found that most of my students cite Wikipedia as their primary source for information for their papers. Now, Wikipedia is a great, convenient source of information, but it’s very nature makes it unreliable for any sort of serious academic research; there’ve been too many instances of incorrect or misleading entries for it to be a credible authority. Unfortunately, for an overwhelming majority, it’s the best source of information they have.
In one instance, at CSJ-R (another local college), I was to teach a certain business subject that doesn’t have much in the way of local material for reference, though I’ve had actual professional experience with it. Lacking any sort of text for the subject, my department head at the time approached the librarian about it, but she passed the buck to the finance office, on the grounds that we get our books from a certain supplier and if they don’t carry it, we’ll have to make a request for it. So off we went to the munchkin wizard, who told us that it just wasn’t possible; the books we wanted (my department head had some textbooks on her wishlist as well) were all foreign books, and for the most part, had to be ordered from Amazon, and the school supposedly didn’t have a credit card to make such a purchase. Which was, of course, ridiculous. And besides, these subjects were part of the curriculum; having textbooks for them is a basic requirement. What were we supposed to do? Wing it? So my department head and I came up with a plan: we’d use either hers or my credit card to make the purchase, but we’d ask for a reimbursement when our bank statements came in. After all, the primary benificiary was the school, wasn’t it? It’s not like we’d be taking the books home with us; it’s for the students. Well, apparently, what seemed like a very logical solution to us wasn’t very logical for the munchkin wizard, because she shot it down. The school, she said, wouldn’t reimburse anything they didn’t approve to be purchased first, and they can’t approve our request because they didn’t have a credit card – nevermind the fact that we actually offered to use our own. We let it go; the munchkin wizard has trouble coming to terms with her own ineptitude and stupidity, and tends to lash out by delaying the release of our paychecks when reminded. I ended up photocopying a textbook from the University of San Agustin graduate school library in Iloilo.
Which brings me back to the title of this post; surely, the story above represents a situation in this world that needs to change. The hard part is figuring out how, even though the why is fairly easy to deduce. You see, we’ve had our run-ins, the munchkin wizard and I, often based on the whole marketing vs. accounting issue. Unimaginative accountants will always see marketing as a frivolous waste, and the people from marketing will always see accountants as a necessary evil, but evil nontheless. Professionalism should’ve been the cure for all that; despite whatever differences our camps had, our highest priority should have been giving the students the best education we can, and getting those textbooks was by no means a difficult task. What should have been a simple matter devolved because the munchkin wizard chose that instance to flex her muscles. Because of petty grievances and insecurities — I know for a fact that I, and several other people, make the munchkin wizard feel inadequate, just by being who we are — good things don’t happen, and the people whom we were supposed to serve (the students) are poorer for it.
Of course, there are a number of ways I could have made it happen; knowing about the munchkin wizard’s fragile ego, I could have massaged it a bit, sucked up a little; compromised. After all, MY ego has to take a back seat to the students’ benefit, right? If it means getting what we want, what would it hurt if I swallowed my pride and grovelled? Right?
Here’s the thing: I shouldn’t have had to.
Stroking the munchkin wizard’s ego is to positive reinforcement, and is tantamount to admitting that yes, that’s the way things should be done. And they’d keep doing it, and they’d keep winning. My brother once told me, I lost that battle. I told him, I lost that battle ONCE. Had I bent over and did what the munchkin wizard wanted, I’d STILL be losing. Battle after battle after battle. This way, they won once, but that’s it. I had no desire to play their game, because it should never be a game in the first place. The realm of education is not a battlefield where combatants jockey for position or leverage, because it’s not about personal agendas but the welfare of the students. It’s about providing students access first and foremost: access to information, access to their potential. Educators ought to be enablers more than instructors, keys more than locks. But those with power often forget that, because they’re too busy staying in power. We all want to change the world, but too often, they won’t let us.
Then again, do we really need their permission?
Related posts:
This post has no comments yet. Be the first? →