Day of the Dead

by Brenda Donelan

  “Let’s not even jump that far ahead yet. I think the first step is to talk to the union president for some guidance. You know what strikes me odd about this whole thing?” asked Diane. Marlee shrugged and she continued, “This seems like a total overreaction by the dean. There were no intermediate sanctions levied against you. He told you not to do something, you did it, and then he fired you. The other thing is, why is this such a hot-button issue for him? He used to be in administration at a university much larger than MSU, so I imagine he’s dealt with police investigations of various tragedies on campus before. Why has Dean Green been so adamant that faculty and staff stay out of the LeCroix death investigation?”

  “Wow, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Marlee pondering Diane’s comments. Why indeed had Dean Green gone off the rails when Marlee continued asking questions? Many of the people she talked to were not even on campus and therefore, fell out of the dean’s scope of authority. Did Dean Green have something to hide, or was he merely taking directives from his superiors? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Marlee would not accept Mean Dean Green’s decision without a fight. A big fight!

  Taking matters into your own hands is the only remedy.

  Chapter 26

  After Diane left to teach class, Marlee spent a little time licking her wounds. She was an over-achiever, and getting fired was not an option. It wasn’t just a matter of ego. She truly liked the MSU campus, the students and her colleagues. Marlee was challenged in her position and loved that she was learning right along with her students. She vacillated between shock, sadness, embarrassment and anger. Shock, sadness and embarrassment were emotions she would have to deal with another time; anger motivated her, and that was what she needed right now. She would use her rage not only to keep her teaching position, but more importantly, to find out what had really happened to Logan LeCroix and why the dean was so anxious to keep her from it.

  While the background music was still playing in her office, Marlee called Harry Hesnar to set up a meeting. As president of the MSU branch of the professor’s union, he was charged with ensuring that faculty contracts and faculty rights were not violated by the administration. Harry had made a convincing pitch at the fall in-service for faculty members to join the union. Listing the many benefits that union membership provided, like advocacy and representation in disputes, he also noted that the union was not able to assist faculty who were not members. Marlee made a mental note to join the union at MSU immediately if she ever got out of this predicament.

  Harry picked up on the fourth ring and suggested, rather unenthusiastically, that Marlee come to his office right away. He had some free time before teaching his Art History class later that morning. Marlee made her way over to Harry’s office in the Fine Arts building, which had the prestige of being the oldest building on campus. The building had a lot of character but had narrow stair ways, no elevators and small bathrooms. MSU had been recently advised that they would need to make the building more handicapped accessible or else close it altogether. Marlee hoped that they would make the necessary renovations so that everyone could move freely about the building. Unfortunately, the campus had a history of tearing down old buildings and replacing them with shiny new structures. Paintings, statues, and other works of arts, handcrafted by faculty and students, adorned the interior of the building. Under normal conditions, Marlee would have spent time looking at the new pieces in the constantly rotating display of artworks. Today, she was all business and stormed into Harry’s office on a mission.

  “So, I checked the records, and I see that you are not a member of the union,” Harry said pointedly after he had motioned her into the office. Harry Hesnar was a small, bespectacled man in his late sixties. The few strands of gray hair he had left were pulled from one side of his head to the other and plastered down in the world’s worst comb-over. He wore a cream colored cable knit sweater that had pilled up from many years of washing and wearing. His brown corduroy pants were a new addition to his wardrobe and made a swishing noise with the slightest bit of movement.

  “That’s right. I didn’t join the union because I didn’t feel like I could afford it,” Marlee said.

  “And now?” queried Harry. He seated himself in his office chair behind a desk that looked as if it were ready to collapse at any time. The chair he sat in did not look too sturdy either, and creaked as he rolled up closer to his desk. Tenure and seniority were important on a college campus, but they didn’t necessarily ensure new furniture.

  “I think it would have been the wisest money I ever spent,” said Marlee, realizing that she actually meant it and was not just blowing smoke up Harry’s skirt. “If I get through this, I promise I’ll join.”

  “Uh huh,” said Harry. This wasn’t the first time he had heard a professor in hot water promise to join the union once their predicament was solved. “So tell me what happened.”

  Marlee recounted her meeting this morning with Dean Green and also the previous admonitions he had given her about asking questions regarding Logan LeCroix’s death. “Do you think he has grounds to have me terminated?”

  “As you know, an untenured professor can face not having their contract renewed at any time. Often these reasons have more to do with personality conflicts than anything work-related. That’s why tenure is so important. It allows faculty to have the freedom to express their thoughts without fear of being fired,” Harry stated.

  “I know it’s political and the dean is pissed because I talked to people about Logan’s death when he advised faculty to stay out of it. I never talked to the press and I never made official statements on behalf of the university. I talked with students, professors and staff on campus, Logan’s partner, and some people who knew Logan. It seems to me that Dean Green’s insistence that faculty stay out of the investigation pertains to making public statements and should not involve what I do personally,” Marlee said.

  “Where you run into a problem is that you asked questions on campus. You talked to students. I’m guessing you may have used some of your office hours and other work time to find out information. Is that correct?” asked Harry.

  “Yes, it is,” Marlee said, looking down, realizing that Dean Green might have a stronger case than she had originally thought.

  “Even though I’m not supposed to become involved in helping non-members, I’ll do some checking around on this and see what I can find. This isn’t the first time that Dean Green has issued a faculty member their walking papers based on not following his directives. I’d like to nail that SOB to the wall,” said Harry, becoming more interested in Marlee’s case by the minute.

  On her way back to her office, Marlee stopped in to chat with Alice Olson. She still needed to get the key to Logan’s office so that she, Joe and Sanjay could get in there tonight. At this point, she didn’t have much to lose if she got caught, but she wanted to make sure Alice and Sanjay didn’t get punished for helping her. Marlee proceeded down the hallway and into Alice’s office. She wasn’t there, but her work study student, Jeremy, was sitting in front of Alice’s computer. When he saw Marlee, he quickly turned the monitor so she wouldn’t see what he was doing. Marlee laughed, “It’s okay, Jeremy. I won’t tell anybody that you’re playing games on the computer when you’re supposed to be doing work for Alice.”

  Jeremy’s look of shock softened into a smile. He was shaped like a barrel, standing five foot four inches high and weighing well over three hundred and fifty pounds. He sported a light brown crew cut covered with a black knit cap. Jeremy was dressed like most students on campus, wearing sweatpants and an MSU sweatshirt. His backpack was dropped near Alice’s desk and was partially open. “Hey, Dr. M. What’s up?”

  “I’m looking for Alice. Is she around?” asked Marlee.

  “Yeah. She had to go to the dentist but said she would be back in an hour,” Jeremy said.

  “I’ll check back then. Oh, wait, I have that faculty meeting on cheating to attend, so it will be sometime aft
er two o’clock before I make it back to see her,” said Marlee.

  “A meeting on cheating?” Jeremy asked, curious about the topic.

  “There’s been a bunch of cheating happening on campus. You’ve probably heard about it. Students have been buying papers and passing them off as their own. Other students are selling term papers they wrote to paper mills and making some decent money on it,” recounted Marlee.

  “Uh, no. I hadn’t heard about that,” Jeremy said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. His body language betrayed him, screaming out that he indeed knew something about cheating on campus.

  “Really? That’s kind of hard to believe. I thought everyone had heard about it. Not that everyone was involved,” Marlee said hastily, not wanting Jeremy to think she was accusing him of cheating.

  “I guess I heard some people talking about it in the dorms, but I didn’t hear any names mentioned,” Jeremy said, looking a little less uncomfortable.

  Marlee had no intention of putting Jeremy on the spot by trying to get him to rat out his classmates. He probably knew more than he was saying, but she didn’t think it was the time nor the place to ferret out further information on cheating. She made a mental note to check back with him to see if he might be a bit more forthcoming at a later time. “Yeah, I haven’t heard any names specifically mentioned either. I think, basically, we’re just going to talk about how to detect if a paper was plagiarized.”

  Jeremy nodded, still looking uneasy about the conversation. As Marlee made her way out the door, she turned and looked over her shoulder to tell Jeremy goodbye. She noticed tears welling up in his eyes. “Jeremy, what’s wrong?” she asked, genuinely concerned about his well-being.

  “Oh, it’s just some family stuff going on,” Jeremy said, waving her off. Marlee knew it would probably just embarrass him if she pushed to find out what was going on in his family. She tried to maintain a professional distance with students, but that wasn’t always possible. A born helper, Marlee had difficulty seeing someone in pain and not doing anything about it.

  Marlee nodded and said, “Hey, if it’s anything you want to talk about, you know where my office is. Stop in any time.” Jeremy gave her a half smile as she walked out of the room.

  The faculty meeting that morning was held in the Angus B. Stewart Conference Room of the administration building. With the donation of enough money, one could get a room or even a whole building named after them. The conference room was a plush office with a large oblong table in the corner, surrounded by leather chairs. Marlee took a seat and marveled at the burgundy drapes, the chocolate brown carpet with burgundy designs and the opulent furnishings. This was where the president and vice president regularly held their meetings. The room was made to impress those in attendance, whether they were from the board of regents or other universities. On rare occasions, the lowly faculty was allowed to meet there, but only under the direct supervision of the president or vice president.

  Marlee seated herself on a leather chair and noted the contrast of this soft, squishy leather chair with her own wooden office chair, with a seat cushion she had bought herself at Kmart. It paid to be in administration. The room soon filled up with professors from most of the disciplines. She was there representing the disciplines of Criminal Justice, Sociology and Political Science. Seated on her right was Bunny Adams, a new professor in the math department. How anyone with the name Bunny would get respect from her colleagues and students was beyond Marlee’s comprehension. Richard Ramos, a professor of Sports Marketing sat on her left. He was in his fifth year of teaching at MSU and was going up for tenure soon. While they waited for the meeting to start, Richard talked about his progress in getting his tenure application finalized. In addition to writing an application letter and submitting references, an applicant had to assemble a binder or a box full of supporting material that demonstrated aptitude in teaching, research and service. Syllabi, course projects, papers and any honors received were all painstakingly organized in hopes of securing tenure. Marlee wondered if she would ever get to go through this process at MSU, given her current situation with Dean Green.

  Ten minutes past the scheduled start time, President Ross entered the room and took his seat at the head of the table. He chatted amiably with those nearest him and, with a loud clearing of his throat, started the meeting. The president was courteous in thanking everyone for their time and introduced the nature of the problem, which was wide-spread plagiarism and cheating at MSU.

  “What we’re here to do today is to come to a consensus on how we will handle instances of plagiarism and cheating in classes. In the past, faculty members have had discretion on what they will do in their individual classes. Given that this problem seems to be growing, especially with students buying and selling papers to paper mills, I believe we need an agreement on a common course of action when a student is suspected of or actually caught cheating,” President Ross said.

  The faculty members looked at each other. Some nodded in agreement, while others remained stone-faced, secretly objecting to any attempt to curtail their academic freedom as it pertained to grading and cheating. All professors were against cheating and plagiarism, but some believed in handling it informally and giving students a chance at redemption.

  Richard Ramos was the first to speak. “What I’ve done in the past is to try to assess the degree of the plagiarism. It the whole paper is written by someone else, I will fail the student. If there are a few passages that they did not cite correctly or at all, then I have a discussion with them about what they did wrong and give them another chance to make it right. I don’t think all cheating and plagiarism should be punished equally.” Two professors nodded their heads in agreement.

  President Ross said, “I agree that not all cheating is equal, and not every instance should be treated the same. What I hope to accomplish is to at least some sort of faculty reporting system. It would be a cheating clearing-house where we could determine if a student had been cheating before this incident. In other words, we are interested in whether the student is a first time offender, which might result in a lighter punishment, or a repeat offender who perhaps can be severely sanctioned or even expelled.”

  The meeting lasted for another hour in which the issue of how to handle cheating and plagiarism was discussed ad nauseum. The main question concerned who would have access to the database. Some were in favor of reporting the information to administration to deal more harshly with repeat offenders. Others were concerned that, once a student was labeled as a cheater, it might be difficult to overcome the stigma, especially if all professors could view the names of students who were previously reported. Coming to no consensus on the topic, the meeting was adjourned, and a follow up meeting for further discussion was scheduled for the week after Thanksgiving.

  Walking out of the meeting, Marlee and Bunny Adams were grumbling about the lack of progress accomplished. “Are meetings always this unproductive?” asked Bunny, new to the campus, and to teaching.

  “That was actually a very productive meeting compared to some I’ve attended. Even though we didn’t come up with a decision, we had a good discussion. No one got into a fight, there wasn’t any name calling or mud-slinging, and we didn’t get off on totally unrelated topics. Nope, this was a fairly good meeting,” Marlee stated. The horrified look on Bunny’s face made Marlee wish she hadn’t been quite so candid in her remarks to the newbie. Everyone knew you had to sugar-coat the truth for the new professors, or else they would flee at the first opportunity. “Just kidding,” Marlee said with a smile, hoping to mask the reality of the situation.

  Bunny smiled back, relieving Marlee of the burden of having scared a new professor into running home and applying for a bunch of positions at other universities.

  When Marlee reached her office, it was almost noon. She knew Alice would be gone over the lunch hour, so she needed to wait around campus for a while to speak with her. Marlee tried to busy herself with class prep for the following day, but her mind
kept floating back to the details of Logan’s death and the people she had talked with about it. When she tried to force herself to focus on something else, she worried about the dean’s comment that her contract would not be renewed after May. She knew there was little she could do right then about her career, so she plunged headlong into sifting through the details and accounts of Logan’s death. She pulled her notebook from her book bag and turned to the first page of her writings and charts on Logan’s death. Maybe, by sifting back through the information and her written thoughts, she would be able to uncover some connections that still eluded her.

  After an hour of sorting through her notes, Marlee was no closer to an answer, but she felt certain that there was something to be learned from gaining access to Logan’s office computer. Noting the time, she made her way back to Alice’s office. Alice had just returned and was hanging up her coat. Her cheeks were still pink from the chill of the outdoors. “Hi, Marlee,” greeted Alice.

  “Hey, Alice. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes in private?” asked Marlee, looking around to make sure there weren’t any work study students engaged in projects or other students taking make-up tests.

  “Sure,” said Alice, looking at Marlee with curiosity. Alice moved toward the open door and shut it for privacy.

  “Here’s the deal,” Marlee said in a low voice as she moved to sit on the edge of Alice’s desk. “I was wondering who had access to Logan’s computer in his office?”

  “The people from the computer center were up here installing new software, and they are constantly up here fixing computers or helping the professors work through some type of computer glitch. The protocol is that they notify the professors that they will be working on their computer, so there are no surprise changes or fixes. Cecil, the janitor, has access to all the offices, but he’s been talked to about using the computers. He got into some trouble over it last year. Other than that, I can’t think of anybody else,” said Alice, searching her brain to think of anyone else who might have entered Logan’s office.