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MBA Memories

There isn't much going on right now worthy of a journal entry. Save a few humorous exchanges regarding how our lives will change when the baby comes, things are pretty normal around the house. It is hard to remember that just a few months ago, I was headed to grad school two nights a week. I graduated in December with my MBA, and as of January, I hadn't thought much more about school. Since the last entry was a throw back to the Phucktographer, I figured I could share a funny grad school story or two to help explain my two year journal absence.

The last class I took was a Production Operations Management course. I loved the professor. He was a soft spoken Indian man with a penchant for removing his glasses, folding them up, placing them in the front pocket of his un-ironed incorrectly tucked in shirt and then immediately removing them from the pocket, unfolding them and putting them back on as he made a subtle wisecrack that you had to lean in to hear and think about for a second to appreciate. He was a genius at math and was kind to those of us that had forgotten everything we know about statistical analysis. I should correct that - he was kind to you if you tried - kinda like if you try to speak French when in Paris to ask if the person speaks English versus just walking up to someone and assuming that they do. Like the stereotype of the unforgiving Parisian, he could be a real jerk if you put forth no effort. For whatever reason, this made me like him even more.

The week before our final exam, he ended the class with some inspiring words for most of us and a harsh warning for one student. He said that most of us had done a good job of keeping up with assignments and that if we studied the test preparation materials he had given us, we should have no problem. He then removed his glasses, folded them and put them in his pocket, but this time, they remained. He then proceeded to do something I have never seen from any professor at any college. I'm going to misquote him, but I'll do my best to relay what he said.

"One of you is in real trouble. If you do not see me prior to the test, you will fail this class and there will be nothing I can do about it. I never have said this in a class before, but one of you is in very serious trouble, and you most likely will fail this course. That's all I will say about this."

He then ended with a "see you next week." Typically, when class ends, there is a bit of a hum as students say their goodbyes or plan to grab a late night dinner and what night. As we exited, most were deadly silent. We were all wondering - am I the deadbeat? Is the person sitting next to me the one who will fail? Who is it that sucks so heinously that they get called out in class? As we started to separate a bit in the hall, you heard a number of people start to speculate or exhale deeply. Most of us said something like "I've never heard anything like that before - holy shit!" It was like someone was being voted off the island!

The next week, we showed up for the test, and as the students arrived, you saw everyone looking around to see who was missing. There was one student who didn't show up and he was the one I had guessed was in serious trouble. He'd been in my workgroup, and he didn't seem to have a clue about anything. Luckily, to lighten the atmosphere, one of my peers who works at a local brewery brought in a wooden crate filled with unlabeled bottles of beer. He plunked it down on the floor just inside the door, took a beer and then took his seat. One by one, students filed up and took a beer. When the professor arrived, he smiled, removed his glasses then replaced them and quietly said, "Fair warning. I do not grade on a curve."

So despite hating the subject matter, the course was one of my favorites and most memorable. Maybe later, I'll tell you about the absent minded racist professor who made us repeat an entire class two weeks in a row.

7:50 a.m. - June 18, 2008

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