Committees (grrr!)

School starts in a month, but I've already been having dreams about heading back. Last night I dreamed that I was stuck in a committee to decide our writing textbook for the next year, which isn't too much of a stretch. The dream was full of elements of real committee meetings. The main question up for debate was whether we should use the current text or whether it was too offensive because of the language. In real life, this question comes up all the time. I'm not one to usually get on the censorship bandwagon, in fact I was making the argument that we gain by hearing the perspectives of those we don't agree with (or who don't agree with us) as much, or more, than hearing from the perspectives we already buy into.

"Cliff, what's the definition of madness?" the retired prof asked whom I was now replacing.

"Um, doing the same things yet expecting different results." I thought this was the right answer, but she turned to someone else, who rattled off a definition that was verbatim something she had said and she nodded. I thought, Socratic questions are good teaching tools, but they also feel like a setup.

"Lunchtime!" someone said, while plates of sandwiches and desserts were wheeled in. The meeting fell into a state of chaos for a few minutes as everyone grabbed sandwiches, some eyeing them with piggy eyes, and I thought we'd have some reprieve from the endless debate over textbooks. Instead, it was going to be a "working lunch" where we would eat AND talk at the same time. Whoever thought that a working lunch was a good idea needs to be shot. Just when you think, "Good, a break. I don't have to listen to Donnegal drone on, at least for the next thirty minutes," think again.

During the lunch, other colleagues were pulling out papers and surveys, questionnaires and research statistics over why we should adopt one book over another. I slid down further in my seat, feeling unprepared other than the feeling that the meeting was pointless in the first place.
As someone read a paper I was actually interested in, people around the room began sliding their seats back, squeaking them across the floor to signal they were done eating, but the chorus that sounded like a cross between whining, out of tune violins and nose whistles drowned out what the presenter was trying to say, and he was sitting at my table. I held up my hands, "Wait, wait a minute," I said. "Can you stop and then reread that again? I had a hard time hearing you." Others in the room stared at me, aghast that I could be so rude and ask him to stop. No one was really listening to his paper anyway, were they? Thankfully, the dream ended.

At this point, I feel underprepared. I dislike committee meetings and retreats, especially when the retreats don't usually ever leave campus, and any "free time" or mealtime is filled with more talking, or pointless "teambuilding" exercises. I don't feel like I have a cause, while others seem ready to fight and die for their textbook or idea. Sometimes I wonder if I'm in the wrong area, and feel the death of a thousand cuts.