The Ghost Apple Read Online Free PDF

a distinct summertime vibe on campus.
    When the dean had finished, the president had a word to say about the Vocational Writing Program (VWP). As of this fall, the VWP was fully integrated: It would administer all introductory composition and professional writing classes—formerly the purview of the English department. The president was aware that many of us had objected to the creation of an independent and autonomous writing program, and in principle she agreed with us, but the VWP—which was also privately endowed—was important for our reputation as a school that catered to the needs of low- as well as mid- and high-ability students. Given the state of our finances, it was more important than ever to appeal to a wide range of students.
    The president then introduced Bish Pinkman III, associate director of the VWP, who wanted to remind all faculty members teaching a VWP-sponsored course that the biweekly Curriculum and Pedagogy Symposia were mandatory. “These meetings,” said Mr. Pinkman III, “are indispensable in that they afford you with the resources, outcome assessments, and degree of technicality for the relevant VWP writing outcomes, and any absence on your part means that your students will not have access to the level of pedagogy we expect you to produce.”
    There was a prolonged silence as faculty members, stunned and saddened by this announcement, attempted to gauge its relevance to themselves. Then Jennifer Wilson, professor of biology, said that the VWP was “one in the eye for anyone who bothered about the liberal arts” and moved that Mr. Pinkman III be locked up. The president treated this motion as a joke, but when several professors rose to second it, she explained that the VWP was too important to the trustees—its importance was political and not intellectual—and we would have to table the question of what to do to Mr. Pinkman III.
    Wearing an expression of profound disgust, Professor Kabaka now rose and left the room. Because he was seated close to the door and because he moved swiftly and silently, his departure went entirely unremarked. The secretary noticed it only because he happened to be gazing longingly at the beautiful and corrupt Malinka West, professor of sociology, who was seated to Professor Kabaka’s left.
    But there was no time to consider what this may have meant: It was time to hear fall reports from standing committees.
    The president now called on Pierce Reynolds, professor of computer science and chair of the Committee on Committees (CC), who explained that he and his fellow committee members had been unable to proceed with their work because they had discovered that the CC was the only committee not subject to its (the CC’s) own review process. They had discussed evaluating themselves, but that solution was impracticable—it would, Professor Reynolds said, be like trying to lift one’s own person off the ground and hold oneself suspended in the air. Better that the college form another committee, the so-called Committee on the Committee on Committees (CCC), whose purpose would be to evaluate the CC.
    This motion was treated as a joke and met with good-natured laughter. Then, in a surprising turn, it was seconded by Professor Beckford, who volunteered to head the new committee.
    Richard Carlyle, professor of English, who had only just arrived and whose disordered clothing and wild eyes suggested a prolonged debauch, wondered who or what would have authority over the CCC. Surely we were establishing a dangerous precedent, one that would inevitably lead to the creation of additional committees—the Committee on the Committee on the Committee on Committees (CCCC), the Committee on the Committee on the Committee on the Committee on Committees (CCCCC), and so on—each one holding review power over the previous one. But Hanson Brokovitch, professor of religion, explained that there was no reason the CC could not evaluate the CCC. The only committee it could not evaluate