Oh yes, my precious.
It's SELF-EVALUATION TIME here at the University In the Fort.
We all know it's coming, of course. We've known it's coming all year. In theory, this means we could have spent all year gathering our data and writing our narratives and prepping our indicies and blah fucking fap fap fap.
But in ACTUAL FACT, we all (okay, me, at least) waited until this morning (the fucking thing is due Friday) to even open the fucking file with the fucking forms in it.
God, do I hate self-evaluations.
Because it's fap-fap-fap, that's why. Who's going to look at this? Me and my chair and my dean.
Maybe the Provost. (Probably not. He's got a couple hundred faculty members. Why would he bother to look at mine?)
Certainly no one else.
It's something we have to do because otherwise we might not be doing it, and then how would "they" know if we were doing anything with our time?
All that luxurious time they pay us for?
I mean, we have to be accountable, right? We have to be assessed, right?
How can that be done if there aren't forms and those forms aren't filled out and those filled-out forms aren't filed and put on some sort of fucking pie chart and probably Power Point Presentation to show us next fall at our fucking useless in-school conference?
So that's what I've been doing all day.
And a lot of cussing. As you probably guessed.
Such a good use of my man-hours.