The Dog Ate My Flashdrive, and Other Tales of Woe

Carolyn Foster Segal

Carolyn Foster Segal, Professor Emerita of English at Cedar Crest College in Pennsylvania and a lecturer at Muhlenberg College, has heard practically every student excuse for handing in late papers. In this humorous essay, she divides student excuses into categories. This article originally appeared, under the title “The Dog Ate My Disk, and Other Tales of Woe,” in the Chronicle of Higher Education, a periodical for college teachers and administrators. As you read, think about the kinds of excuses you have given to instructors for late work.

1

Taped to the door of my office is a cartoon that features a cat explaining to his feline teacher, “The dog ate my homework.” It is intended as a gently humorous reminder to my students that I will not accept excuses for late work, and it, like the lengthy warning on my syllabus, has had absolutely no effect. With a show of energy and creativity that would be admirable if applied to the (missing) assignments in question, my students persist, week after week, semester after semester, year after year, in offering excuses about why their work is not ready. Those reasons fall into several broad categories: the family, the best friend, the evils of dorm life, the evils of technology, and the totally bizarre.

2

The Family The death of the grandfather / grandmother is, of course, the grandmother of all excuses. What heartless teacher would dare to question a student’s grief or veracity? What heartless student would lie, wishing death on a revered family member, just to avoid a deadline? Creative students may win extra extensions (and days off) with a little careful planning and fuller plot development, as in the sequence of “My grandfather / grandmother is sick”; “Now my grandfather / grandmother is in the hospital”; and finally, “We could all see it coming—my grandfather / grandmother is dead.”

3

Another favorite excuse is “the family emergency,” which (always) goes like this: “There was an emergency at home, and I had to help my family.” It’s a lovely sentiment, one that conjures up images of Louisa May Alcott’s little women rushing off with baskets of food and copies of Pilgrim’s Progress, but I do not understand why anyone would turn to my most irresponsible students in times of trouble.

4

The Best Friend This heartwarming concern for others extends beyond the family to friends, as in, “My best friend was up all night and I had to (a) stay up with her in the dorm, (b) drive her to the hospital, or (c) drive to her college because (1) her boyfriend broke up with her, (2) she was throwing up blood [no one catches a cold anymore; everyone throws up blood], or (3) her grandfather / grandmother died.”

5

At one private university where I worked as an adjunct, I heard an interesting spin that incorporated the motifs of both best friend and dead relative: “My best friend’s mother killed herself.” One has to admire the cleverness here: A mysterious woman in the prime of her life has allegedly committed suicide, and no professor can prove otherwise! And I admit I was moved, until finally I had to point out to my students that it was amazing how the simple act of my assigning a topic for a paper seemed to drive large numbers of otherwise happy and healthy middle-aged women to their deaths. I was careful to make that point during an off week, during which no deaths were reported.

6

The Evils of Dorm Life These stories are usually fairly predictable; they almost always feature the evil roommate or hallmate, with my student in the role of the innocent victim; and can be summed up as follows: My roommate, who is a horrible person, likes to party, and I, who am a good person, cannot concentrate on my work when he or she is partying. Variations include stories about the two people next door who were running around and crying loudly last night because (a) one of them had boyfriend / girlfriend problems; (b) one of them was throwing up blood; or (c) someone, somewhere, died. A friend of mine in graduate school had a student who claimed that his roommate attacked him with a hammer. That, in fact, was a true story; it came out in court when the bad roommate was tried for killing his grandfather.

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The Evils of Technology The computer age has revolutionized the student story, inspiring almost as many new excuses as it has Internet businesses. Here are just a few electronically enhanced explanations.

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The Totally Bizarre I call the first story “The Pennsylvania Chain Saw Episode.” A commuter student called to explain why she had missed my morning class. She had gotten up early so that she would be wide awake for class. Having a bit of extra time, she walked outside to see her neighbor, who was cutting some wood. She called out to him, and he waved back to her with the saw. Wouldn’t you know it, the safety catch wasn’t on or was broken, and the blade flew right out of the saw and across his lawn and over her fence and across her yard and severed a tendon in her right hand. So she was calling me from the hospital, where she was waiting for surgery. Luckily, she reassured me, she had remembered to bring her paper and a stamped envelope (in a plastic bag, to avoid bloodstains) along with her in the ambulance, and a nurse was mailing everything to me even as we spoke.

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That wasn’t her first absence. In fact, this student had missed most of the class meetings, and I had already recommended that she withdraw from the course. Now I suggested again that it might be best if she dropped the class. I didn’t harp on the absences (what if even some of this story were true?). I did mention that she would need time to recuperate and that making up so much missed work might be difficult. “Oh, no,” she said, “I can’t drop this course. I had been planning to go on to medical school and become a surgeon, but since I won’t be able to operate because of my accident, I’ll have to major in English, and this course is more important than ever to me.” She did come to the next class, wearing—as evidence of her recent trauma—a bedraggled Ace bandage on her left hand.

10

You may be thinking that nothing could top that excuse, but in fact I have one more story, provided by the same student, who sent me a letter to explain why her final assignment would be late. While recuperating from her surgery, she had begun corresponding on the Internet with a man who lived in Germany. After a one-week, whirlwind Web romance, they had agreed to meet in Rome, to rendezvous (her phrase) at the papal Easter Mass. Regrettably, the time of her flight made it impossible for her to attend class, but she trusted that I—just this once—would accept late work if the pope wrote a note.

Reacting to Language

Sarcastic remarks, which mean the opposite of what they say, are usually meant to make fun of something or someone. Where does Segal use sarcasm? Considering her audience, do you think this language is appropriate? Why or why not?

Question

Reacting to Ideas

Reacting to the Pattern

Writing Practice