Sierra's Side

I have a real office at school, not a cubicle, but the walls that separate me from the bio-chem professor to my left and the social science dude to my right are just drywall partitions. Even when we all have our doors closed, I can still hear my neighbors' phone conversations, student meetings, chair squeaks, paper rustling, and farts. I assume that all of my noise is audible to them as well.

As final exams are looming, I spent the day with my door open so that students who needed to speak with me would realize I was available. My colleagues had their own doors open too, so we were swapping all kinds of sounds along the hallway. At one point, my phone rang, and when I answered it, I discovered Sierra at the other end. The tragedy! Her grandmother had just had a stroke, so she would be unable to bring her portfolio and other late work to the appointment we had in twenty minutes.

"Sierra," I said loudly enough for everyone on the hallway to hear, "If you are not in my office at 1 p.m., as we agreed, your notebook gets a zero, and I will not take any of the other late work you owe me. You will then have no chance of passing this class."

I know I sounded stern and inflexible. Since I didn't have speaker phone on, my colleagues didn't know why the student I addressed wasn't able to be come to the meeting, but even if they did hear Sierra's half of the conversation, I doubt that they would have had any sympathy for her. We are all hearing lame-o excuses as students who have been fooling themselves, their friends, their parents are quickly coming to the realization that they are failing one or all of their classes.

In Sierra's case, I don't believe that her grandmother really had a stroke. Sierra missed too many classes, too many quizzes, too many deadlines. Each time she explained the lapse of responsibility with a variation of "Grandma died": either she had to drive her father to the emergency room, or sit with her brother during his asthma attack, or stay close to a toilet after a bad bout of food poisoning. And then there was the trip to Atlantic City for a wedding not her own. I don't like to get in the way of a student's success, but I can reach a point where I conclude that failing the class is the best lesson that student can receive.

What will happen, though, if Sierra goes to my dean to complain? I can hear Sierra whine, "My grandma had a stroke, and mean ol' Professor Lightbulb wouldn't let me turn in my work even though I explained to her that I had to be at the hospital!" My dean is experienced enough to know that not all student complaints are legitimate, but she doesn't know Sierra's long history of bogus excuses. And don't I sound like a real hard-ass if you only know Sierra's side of the story!