Last week lecturer ran Master Class on - guess? Yes, her beloved Jaques Derrida. Forty of us attended, including students from philosophy and English literature courses. Apparently heavy pressure applied to students to attend. Lecturer turned up late, apparently having problems with power point presentation. At start of presentation, all students invited to ask questions but when anyone did, received response given in such a tone to suggest stupid question and after a while, no-one dared ask anything else. Atmosphere grim. Then Oscar - to surprise of all creative writing students - put arm up and asked why students being treated with lack of respect. Stunned silence. More silence when lecturer didn't respond, and continued presentation. At end of presentation, supposed to be panel discussion, with other lecturers participating but lecturer informed us she'd decided to cancel this because of our poor attitude, and - she glared at Oscar when saying this - lack of manners. Students from other courses left at this point.
Lecturer then handed back recent assignment, saying she was disappointed in low standard of work, and warning us if we wanted to pass our Major Projects, must improve our writing immediately. Criticised us for showing lack of imagination and uniqueness and tendency to keep too much to assessment criteria rather than take risks. Undaunted, Oscar put up his arm, she ignored him. He sat with arm up for 20 minutes then waved it around to force her to notice. 'What is it, Oscar?' she asked irritably. 'We should not be penalised for complying with assignment criteria,' he said. This is against Institute Regulations' and he sited information from Institute course brochure. Lecturer began pacing up and down platform, wrists clenched.
Then something amazing happened. Someone I'd never seen before, seated at back of class, went to platform and asked lecturer if he could speak to her privately. 'Who are you?' she asked. 'I am from the Inspectorate,' he said. Her face went whiter than Neville's fur and they left the room. Noise from classroom rose to fever pitch as speculations bandied around. People congratulated Oscar on his courage for challenging lecturer. Oscar thanked them graciously and didn't look smug.
Half an hour later, door to lecture theatre opened and man from Inspectorate appeared. He asked us all to move down to front of auditorium. Everyone did, curiosity levels almost unbearable. He told us of strong concerns about performance and personal style of lecturer, at course content in general, and nature of assessments for students. Despite everything having been checked out before start of course, content now more appropriate to Masters in Philosophy, not in creative writing. Apparently changes had been made during last two terms, without approval. Upshot is that students can't undertake their Major Projects this year and will have to defer until following one, during which time, lecturers will be replaced by ones more au fait with what students need to equip them to become better writers. There'll be no more time wasted on deranged French philosophers and misogynist poets - so we can resell our copies of Norton. Instead we will work on books on craft of writing.
Some students looked anxious and there were mutterings about rent to be paid and needing to finish course so they could find editing jobs and pub work.
Inspector had discussed this already with colleagues and announced that there was contingency fund in Institute for unanticipated problems and we'd all receive generous grants to allow us to continue studies next year. Every student would be given application form to complete and decisions would be made about what financial support each one would receive.Inspector then told us there'd be no more classes until the autumn, and asked us to submit our application forms as soon as possible.
Afterwards all convened in Institute canteen, although it should have closed for the day. Found buffet, hastily put together for us, due to unexpected circumstances. Touched by thoughtfulness of Inspectorate and Catering Department. Everyone extremely hungry - no doubt due to shock proceedings of last few hours. Filled in forms then said goodbye to each other, agreeing to meet up some time over summer holidays.
Back at flat made sudden decision to return to Moscow to see Aunt Mischa and other relatives. While packing, noticed Neville hovering, looking miserable. Knew immediately why and asked him if he wanted to accompany me. He jumped into my arms, squeaking contentedly. Five minutes later, received text from Henri asking if he could come to flat to talk more about what had happened at Institute. Didn't feel could turn him down. When he arrived and saw my baggage, he asked if he could come too as he neede break, and would be motivated to finish recipe book more quickly if he had adventure to look forward to. Phoned airline company and arranged to postpone flight for three days to allow Henri time to finish Guineapigging out.
Will write from Moscow when have spare moment.
Purrs Bakhtin.
