Turn here

I spent a couple hours today working on my first lesson plan for the Marketing course that was supposed to begin tomorrow evening. That's right. Was supposed to begin. I got a phone call from the Dean late in the afternoon: Sorry, the class is cancelled due to lack of students. I made all the appropriate noises and so did she. After I hung up the phone, I shocked my cat by bursting into song. Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles! The universe has spoken!

I'm not surprised the class was cancelled. This is the world of for-profit career education, after all. Vocational students say one thing and frequently do another. And when you push them toward a deadline, they balk.

Am I sad? Not even slightly. I took a few minutes to calculate the financial return I could have expected from the 11-week course (lest I be deluding myself that I was doing it for the money). By the time you factor in a couple hours a week of prep time, an hour of commute time, and a couple gallons of gas, what looked like a reasonable hourly rate dropped by two-thirds. I might as well be paying them.

What other reason besides earning a few dollars would I have for teaching at a dreaded for-profit career college? Other than the relatively minor joy of teaching marketing, the only solid reason I can think of is that it would give me stories to blog about. I never lack for stories to blog about. But students are so.... ripe for skewering. It would have been a rich source of material for my pen-like sword. Sword-like pen. Whatever.

I'm not unhappy with this turn of events. In fact I'm relieved. Tonight I used my sudden sense of freedom to finish stuffing and stamping my first batch of direct mail marketing letters. I know the recipients will toss them in the recycling bin, but that's okay. If I don't take action, then nothing can happen. That much I know. I'm taking each day as it comes. These days I stay pretty close to the present moment, and that keeps me fairly serene. If the universe says turn here, I turn. In this case, it seems the universe has recalculated my personal GPS.

Tomorrow, though, I wouldn't be surprised if I get another phone call from the Dean, saying the student(s) have reappeared and would I still be willing to teach the class? That's the crazy world of for-profit higher education. This institution appears better than the one that laid me off last year—regional accreditation makes everything seem shiny. But look under the hood and you see the same engine driving the operation: the profit motive. Even regional accreditation can't make a for-profit institution be something it isn't. The more I think about it, the more I suspect I just dodged a bullet.