coming up for air
GASP.
Give me a second to cough out some seawater from my lungs. [Insert sound of orca choking on octopus here (hey! It could happen! The possibilities are endless when you involve eating suction cups. Which makes me wonder: does the Heimlich maneuver work when suction cups are involved? Because it seems to me that those bad boys could get really stuck. I don't think any amount of heaving and hoeing could dislodge a particularly sticky piece of calamari).]
Anyways . . . Today was one of those (un)fortunate times when (a) I got to wear yoga pants all day long (note to self: next time I pick a profession, choose one that allows me to wear said yoga pants all the time and that does not involve suits), and (b) I got to edit someone else's academic writing. Hence the gasping and fear of octopi and anything else that has the ability to squelch and suffocate life (seriously, these yoga pants are tight and fearsome).
Ha. But really. The yoga pants are awesome. The academic writing? Not so much. Before you professors run away, let me add a disclaimer: not all academic writing is bad. Really and truly, there is some brilliant stuff out there that I enjoy reading every now and again (when I'm not overly saturated with law school trivia, that is (since everyone knows that the bar exam is just like Jeopardy! and requires your answers to be in the form of a question (Not really. But the prospect is rather frightening.))). But seriously, one of the articles I worked on today was really good. And controversial. But still really good. It's one of those few articles that my unprofessional editing self would give a gold star to (see, I am an unprofessional---I ended my sentence with a preposition).
But that's not always the case. This past year as I've edited articles with a host of other copy workers for our law school's law review, I have been simply amazed at the quality (or lack thereof) of writing submitted (and accepted) for publication. I mean, if ever I submit anything to publish, I would at least try to make sure the sources I'm citing actually match the material in my article and that the page numbers I refer to somewhat coincide with the proposition I am making. Just saying. Who knows? Maybe not everyone had the fear of the Plagiarism Demon instilled in them after being publicly humiliated in front of one's English class in ninth grade because of one forgotten in-text citation (but that's another story for another day---I'll give you time to stock up on your Kleenex. It's a tragic tale indeed).
In any case, some of the things I've seen lately have caused me to daydream about what tenured professors actually do all day. Do they set their pet llamas loose to dance on their keyboards, print out the result, look it over once or twice, and then submit it as their magnum opus? (Since every law professor I know has a pet llama. Or monkey. Both good pets of choice). Or maybe they are just really good at finding innocuous quotes and stringing them together like popcorn streamers on a Christmas tree (and truth be told, I bet their research assistants find the quotes before the prof strings them together. Just saying).
Before I get marooned in the South Pacific for saying more of the things I'm saying (which are really just a bunch of complaints thinly disguised as disgruntled humor), I have just one more thing to add: if ever I become a law professor, I will be sure to knit sweaters from my llama's wool and wear them with pride. After all, if it weren't for his dancing, I would never have caused students to write blog posts like the one I just coughed up now.
Give me a second to cough out some seawater from my lungs. [Insert sound of orca choking on octopus here (hey! It could happen! The possibilities are endless when you involve eating suction cups. Which makes me wonder: does the Heimlich maneuver work when suction cups are involved? Because it seems to me that those bad boys could get really stuck. I don't think any amount of heaving and hoeing could dislodge a particularly sticky piece of calamari).]
Anyways . . . Today was one of those (un)fortunate times when (a) I got to wear yoga pants all day long (note to self: next time I pick a profession, choose one that allows me to wear said yoga pants all the time and that does not involve suits), and (b) I got to edit someone else's academic writing. Hence the gasping and fear of octopi and anything else that has the ability to squelch and suffocate life (seriously, these yoga pants are tight and fearsome).
Ha. But really. The yoga pants are awesome. The academic writing? Not so much. Before you professors run away, let me add a disclaimer: not all academic writing is bad. Really and truly, there is some brilliant stuff out there that I enjoy reading every now and again (when I'm not overly saturated with law school trivia, that is (since everyone knows that the bar exam is just like Jeopardy! and requires your answers to be in the form of a question (Not really. But the prospect is rather frightening.))). But seriously, one of the articles I worked on today was really good. And controversial. But still really good. It's one of those few articles that my unprofessional editing self would give a gold star to (see, I am an unprofessional---I ended my sentence with a preposition).
But that's not always the case. This past year as I've edited articles with a host of other copy workers for our law school's law review, I have been simply amazed at the quality (or lack thereof) of writing submitted (and accepted) for publication. I mean, if ever I submit anything to publish, I would at least try to make sure the sources I'm citing actually match the material in my article and that the page numbers I refer to somewhat coincide with the proposition I am making. Just saying. Who knows? Maybe not everyone had the fear of the Plagiarism Demon instilled in them after being publicly humiliated in front of one's English class in ninth grade because of one forgotten in-text citation (but that's another story for another day---I'll give you time to stock up on your Kleenex. It's a tragic tale indeed).
In any case, some of the things I've seen lately have caused me to daydream about what tenured professors actually do all day. Do they set their pet llamas loose to dance on their keyboards, print out the result, look it over once or twice, and then submit it as their magnum opus? (Since every law professor I know has a pet llama. Or monkey. Both good pets of choice). Or maybe they are just really good at finding innocuous quotes and stringing them together like popcorn streamers on a Christmas tree (and truth be told, I bet their research assistants find the quotes before the prof strings them together. Just saying).
Before I get marooned in the South Pacific for saying more of the things I'm saying (which are really just a bunch of complaints thinly disguised as disgruntled humor), I have just one more thing to add: if ever I become a law professor, I will be sure to knit sweaters from my llama's wool and wear them with pride. After all, if it weren't for his dancing, I would never have caused students to write blog posts like the one I just coughed up now.
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| I tried to find a picture of a llama wearing yoga pants, but failed. I figured the hipster llama was the next best thing. |
I've had that same experience with being VERY surprised by some of the stuff out there that gets published! I've also been really surprised to find out how lax people seem to be about making deadlines... not all people, but when my professors are on the board for a conference or something and people just "forget" and submit stuff like a week late? Not acceptable people!!!
ReplyDeleteMy portion of the copywork has math. MATH! I didn't sign up for this.
ReplyDeleteAs far as the preposition thing goes, "[that] is the kind of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put." (I'm not even going to give you the citation for that quote. And it feels great!)