Bond With Death Read Free Page B

Wynona for the evaluations and took them back to her office to look them over. They were no worse than the ones Curtin had received on the forms Sally had already seen. They were no better, either. Sally decided to call Curtin and have him come by for a conference to discuss his evaluations.
    And that was when the trouble started.

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    â€œ H e always blamed you for his firing,” Jack said. “I don’t think he ever got over it.”
    â€œI’m sure he didn’t,” Sally said. She needed a Hershey bar, but she didn’t want to show weakness in front of Jack. “And it was reasonable for him to blame me. After all, I was the one who made the recommendation.”
    â€œI know. I never thought it would really happen. He had tenure.”
    The Garden Gnome had had tenure, all right. Sally remembered that tenure was one of the first things he had mentioned when he came into her office on the day they were to discuss his evaluations.
    â€œI don’t really care what those things say,” Curtin had told her, pointing to the incriminating sheets of paper on her desk. Sally had taken the time to clear a place for them, so they were right out in the open. “I have tenure, and no matter what a bunch of callow freshmen and sophomores say about me, I plan to continue teaching any way that I see fit.”
    Sally had looked him over. His beard was short, but it hadn’t been trimmed for a while, and it appeared that part of his breakfast was caught in it. A bit of bacon, perhaps. His hair was no neater than his beard, although there wasn’t any bacon in it that Sally could see. Curtin’s face and eyes were red, and his shirt and pants were as wrinkled as if he’d slept in them for a week or so.

    â€œI believe in academic freedom,” he continued, sitting in the chair by her desk. “Don’t you?”
    â€œOf course I do,” Sally told him. “I also believe that we have an obligation to give our students the education they’re paying for.”
    Curtin put a hand to his mouth and belched, as if to show his opinion of that idea. The rest of the conversation was no more satisfactory, with Curtin hiding behind tenure and academic freedom as Sally pressed him to say he would take steps to become a more effective instructor.
    â€œWho says I’m not effective? Those little twerps in my classes? Who are they to evaluate me? I have more college credits than any of them will ever get. They’ll all be lucky if they don’t spend their lives selling chalupas and burritos at the Speedy Taco.”
    â€œThey’re the ones we’re paid to teach,” Sally said, wondering if Curtin was entirely sane. “We have to give their opinions some weight.”
    â€œMaybe you do. I don’t. Now if that’s all you have to say, I have a class to teach.”
    â€œGo ahead, then. I’ll call you soon about setting up some times for classroom observations.”
    Curtin had risen to his feet, but he sat back down, looking at Sally as if she had said something objectionable.
    â€œClassroom evaluations?” he said. “What do you mean by that?”
    â€œI mean exactly what I said. I’ll be sitting in your classroom to observe your teaching methods and your interaction with the students. I’ll let you pick the times and the classes so there won’t be any surprises.”
    Curtin shook his head. “You aren’t coming in my classroom.”
    â€œYes,” Sally said. “I am.”
    She dug through some of the papers on her desk and pulled out a copy of the college’s evaluation policy. When she located the section she wanted, she started to read: “The department chair shall visit every instructor in his or her department at least once every two years and fill out the standard departmental observation form. The
form is to be filed in the department chair’s office after it has been discussed