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Faculty Obligations




A faculty member accepts an obligation, in relation to her or his students, to discharge her or his duties in a fair and conscientious manner in accordance with the ethical standards generally recognized within the academic community, (as well as those of the .... profession).

Without limiting the application of the above principle, members of the faculty are also expected (except in cases of illness or other compelling circumstance) to conduct themselves in a professional manner, including the following:

1. To meet their classes when scheduled.

2. To be available at reasonable times for appointments with students, and to keep such appointments.

3. To make appropriate preparation for classes and other meetings.

To perform their grading duties, and other academic evaluations in a timely manner.

4. To describe to, within the period in which a student may add and drop a course, orally, in writing, or by reference to printed course descriptions, the general content and objectives of a course; and announce the methods and standards of evaluation (....)

Appendix 3: General information texts

Anti-Syrian journalist murdered

Thousands of demonstrators massed in Beirut this week to call for the resignation of President Emile Lahoud. The protests were sparked by the murder of Samir Kassir, a campaigning journalist who was well known for his anti-Syrian views. He died when his car was blown up in Beirut. Lahoud, a prominent ally of Damascus, has been under pressure to step down since Syria's withdrawal from Lebanon. Kassir had recently called for revolution in Syria, and many Lebanese are convinced Syria was behind his death. (The Week)

Scuffles in parliament

Felipe Calderуn was sworn in as president of Mexico last week amid unprecedented scenes of opposition dissent. Calderуn won last July's election by less than half of a percentage point, provoking a furious response from his left-wing opponent, Andrés Manuel Lopez Obrador, who continues to insist that he is the victim of poll fraud. Last month tens of thousands of Obrador's supporters crowded into the capital's Zocalo square to hear him proclaim himself the leader of a "parallel" government. (The Week)

 

British high streets: depressingly similar

From Kent to Cambria, from Haywards Heath to Hartlepool - travel the length and breadth of this country, said Max Hastings in the Daily Mail and you'll notice something distinctive about high streets of British towns - they all look identical. M&S, Next, WH Smith, Boots, Tesco, McDonald's, Starbucks: the shop fronts are always and everywhere the same. And now comes a report from the New Economics Foundation to make the observation official. Britain, the report concludes, has become a nation of "clone towns". The big chains now dominate 42% of UK town centres and further 26% are in danger of going the same way. Where once was a mix of independent butchers, newsagents, greengrocers, and family-owned general stores, now there only faceless mobile phone stores, fast-food chains and global fashion outlets. We claim to value regional character, yet we are letting it die. "Every time a little watch mender or bookshop closes, something is lost which will not be replaced." (The Week)

The great crash: after the ball is over

For decade or more, we were encouraged to believe the good times would never end, said Jeff Randall in The Daily Telegraph. Ordinary consumers were exhorted to spend like there was no tomorrow: credit was cheap; mortgages could deliver not just homes, but high-rolling lifestyles. "Shopping like stars became leisure activity." Now, of course, the "age of credulity" is over; the bubble has burst - "amid all the banking gobbledygook, it's hard to comprehend the scale of the pain that is about to be inflicted on the people who least deserve it. Debris from the implosion of parallel universes in the City and Wall Street is about to destroy innocent lives." The question is, how many, for how long?

No one can predict that, said The Guardian, but one thing we do know: Britain is heading for recession, and this crisis - which may seem remote now - is about to engulf our entire economy. (The Week)

 

The Go-Gos' last laugh

Belinda Carlisle found her calling almost by accident, says John Preston in the Sunday Telegraph. As part of her teenage rebellion against family life in California, she joined a punk band called the Germs. "I just got behind the drum kit and started beating the hell out of it." When they disbanded she formed the Go-Go's, with four equally clueless girlfriends. "Ambition? Our only ambition was to learn how to plug our guitars into our amplifiers. We started from zero, and even by punk standards we were incredibly bad. People used to come just to laugh at us. I would look out into the audience and see people falling in hysterics." Yet within three years the Go-Go's had become the most successful band in America. "What was really bizarre is that there turned out to be natural song-writing talent in the band," she marvels. "I guess we had the last laugh." (The Week)

Weather. For this week that was

High pressure brought spring-like weather to much of the UK between Thursday and Sunday with prolonged sunshine, frosty nights, and high daytime temperatures - more like April than Feb. However, February was quick to remind us that it is still winter, and daytime readings fell sharply on Monday and Tuesday with afternoon maxima of 1C or 2C as far south as the Chilterns and Cotswolds, while snow showers fell in places, chiefly but not exclusively in Scotland.

Downpours over eastern Indonesia and Malaysia last week migrated into other parts of Indonesia over the weekend. Severe flooding on Java led to several deaths, while hundreds and thousands were driven from their homes. At Bogor 451mm (nearly 18in) of rain fell in 48 hours on Saturday/Sunday. Cyclone Dora developed in the Indian Ocean late last week, causing high winds and heavy rain. Severe cold hit the Canadian Prairie Provinces with a record-breaking -41C at Winnipeg on Monday. (The Week)

Appendix 4: Fiction

The Happy Man and his Lorry

Told by Miryam

Once upon a time there was a man who had a tip-lorry. Every time he saw a friend, he would wave his hand and tip the tipper.

One day he was riding in his lorry, singing a happy song, when he met a pig going along the road.

"Would you like a ride in my lorry?" he asked.

"Oh, thank you!" said the pig. And he climbed into the back of the

lorry.

After they had gone a little way down the road, the man saw a friend. He waved his hand and tipped the tipper.

"Wee", said the pig. "What fun!" And he slid all the way down to the bottom of the tipper.

Very soon they came to a farm.

"Here is where my friends live", said the pig. "You have a nice lorry. Would you please let my friends see your lorry?"

"I will give them a ride in my tip-lorry", said the man. So the hen and the rooster climbed into the lorry. And the duck climbed into the lorry. And the dog and the cat climbed into the lorry. And the pig climbed back into the lorry, too. And then off they went!

They went past the farm, and all the animals waved to the farmer. The man was very happy. „They are all my friends", he said. So he waved his hand, and tipped the tipper.

The hen, the rooster, the duck, the dog, the cat and the pig all slid down the tipper into a big heap!

The hen clucked. The duck quacked. The rooster crowed. The dog barked. The cat mewed. And the pig said a great big grunt.

The animals were all so happy! Then the man took them for a long ride, and drove them back to the farm.

He opened the tailboard wide and raised the tipper all the way up. All the animals slid off the lorry on to the ground.

"What a fine sliding-board", they all said. "Thank you", said all the animals. "Cut, cut", clucked the hen. „Cock-a-doodle-doo", the rooster crowed. "Quack, quack", quacked the duck. "Bow-wow", barked the dog. "Meow, meow", mewed the cat. And the pig said a great big grunt. "Oink, oink!"

The man waved his hand and tipped the tipper, and he rode off his lorry, singing a happy song.

(Great Big Book of Bedtime Stones)

 

Rupert the Rhinoceros

Told by C. Memling

In a dense thicket in Deepest Africa there lived a rhinoceros. His name was Rupert. Rupert was really very nice. But everyone thought he was horrid, because... no matter who came near, Rupert always charged! He charged at the timid kudu. He charged at the spotted leopard. He charged at the tall giraffe. He even charged at the enormous elephant.

One day he charged at a hunter, but the hunter did not run away. Suddenly the ground gave way under Rupert and he fell into a trap the hunter had made. The hunter's helpers put him in a cage and took him to the port where their ship was anchored. As the cage went up, Rupert said farewell to Deepest Africa.

One day, there was a terrible storm at sea .Down in the hold of the pitching ship, Rupert's cage fell over with a crash - and the door sprang open! Now Rupert was free! But just as he climbed up on deck, a sailor came near. Rupert could not help himself; he charged again. The sailor leaped aside - and Rupert crashed through the railing. Luckily, a whale happened to swim by.

Rupert held on tight, and had a nice ride on the whale's back. After a long swim, the whale let him off near a beach, and Rupert said goodbye. Behind the beach, Rupert found a city. By the light of the moon, he walked along the quiet streets, until at last he found a park and fell asleep.

In the morning, a parade came near the park. People watched and people marched. The mayor rode in a long, long car. The drummers went BABBOOM, BABBOOM - and Rupert woke up. Rupert charged wildly again. He charged at the people watching He charged at the people marching. He charged at the drummers. He even charged at the mayor's long, long car.

Next day Rupert woke up in a hospital. His horn was bandaged, and a kindly old doctor was taking his pulse.

"Don't worry, Rupert," said the doctor. "You'll be better soon."

Then the kindly doctor gave him an Eye Test. Rupert tried his best to read the Eye Chart. But all that he could see was a fuzzy blur.

"Hmmm," said the doctor. "Just as I thought, Rupert. You are really very nice, but ... you have very poor eyesight. No matter who comes near, you see only a fuzzy blur. That frightens you - and that is why you're always charging wildly."

The doctor opened a large white drawer. And he fitted Rupert with a pair of glasses. As they both walked out, Rupert cried happily, "How clear everything looks now! I'll never charge at anyone again!"

But, at the sight of Rupert, people scrambled into doorways and hid behind trees.

"Dear me," said the doctor. "They're still afraid of you. But don't cry, Rupert, They'll know better soon." The doctor phoned his friends and said, "Drop what you're doing, and come this instant! Don't change your clothes - come just as you are! We're going to have a party!"

The mayor dropped a fountain pen and came in his top hat. The carpenter dropped a box of nails and came in his apron. The art teacher dropped a piece of chalk and came in her teacher's smock. The mechanic dropped a monkey wrench and came in his overalls.

Soon the doctor's house was filled with friends. They had all come just-as-they-were. Then in came Rupert, wearing his glasses and a shy smile, and looking so nice that even the littlest girl at the party was not afraid of him.

She gave him a garland of roses to show how much she liked him.

And now Rupert, like all RhinoceROSES had roses at THE END.

(Great Big Book of Bedtime Stories)

 

Little Red Riding Hood

Told by E.J. Werner

Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl whom everyone loved, most of all her mother and grandmother. Wherever she went, this little girl wore a little red cape with a red hood, so her friends came to call her Red Riding Hood.

One day little Red Riding Hood's mother said to her, "How would you like to go to see your grandmother today?"

Of course Red Riding Hood was delighted, so her mother packed a little basket with custard and jelly, a loaf of fine white bread and a bottle of red wine, for Red Riding Hood's grandmother had not been feeling well.

Red Riding Hood put on her little cape and hood, and her mother kissed her good bye, and said to her, "Now be sure to go straight to grandmother's, and do not stop to play or talk to any strangers in the woods."

Red Riding Hood promised to be careful, and off she started. She loved the walk through the shady green woods, where shy little flowers peeped out from beds of ferns and bright-eyed squirrels and bunnies skipped along beside her in the friendliest way.

But today she did not stop to play with any of her forest friends. She kept right on the path.

Suddenly from behind a big oak tree appeared a grey wolf. He was an evil-looking fellow, but he smiled at little Red Riding Hood and said politely,

"Good morning, my dear. And where are you going all alone?"

"My grandmother is sick and I am going to her little cottage in the woods to take her this basket from my mother," said little Red Riding Hood. "And my mother says I am not to stop to play along the way or speak to strangers."

"Always obey your mother, my dear", said the wolf, eyeing Red Riding Hood hungrily. "Now I do not want to delay you, since you have a long way to go, so good day!"

With a little bow the wolf disappeared among the trees, and Red Riding Hood skipped along the path towards her grandmother's house.

The wicked wolf lost no time. He took a short cut through the woods and reached the grandmother's cottage long before little Red Riding Hood.

"Who is there?" called the grandmother, who was still in bed.

"It is I, little Red Riding Hood", said the wolf, trying to make his voice sound soft and sweet.

„Come in my dear," said the grandmother. „Just pull the latchstring".

So the wolf pulled the latchstring and slipped into the grandmother's cottage, and he ate her up in one big bite. Then he put on her nightgown and nightcap and climbs into her bed. He was just pulling the sheet up over his nose when Red Riding Hood rapped at the door.

"Who is there?" called the wolf, trying to make his voice sweet and

"It is I, little Red Riding Hood", said the little girl. "Come in, my dear, said the wolf, "Just pull the latchstring". So Red Riding Hood went in and put her little basket down on the

"Now come closer, my dear," said the wolf.

"Why, Granny, what big ears you have!" cried Red Riding Hood as she walked up to the bed.

"The better to hear you with, my dear", said the wolf.

"And Granny, what big eyes you have!" cried Red Riding Hood.

The better to see you with, my dear", said the wolf.

"And Granny, what big teeth you have!"

"The better to EAT you with!" snapped the wolf, springing at Red Riding Hood.

Calling for help, the little girl ran out of the cottage and straight into the arms of a sturdy woodcutter.

He stepped into the house and with one blow of his axe killed the wicked wolf. Then slit him open, and out stepped Red Riding Hood's grandmother, none the worse for her fright.

She kissed Red Riding Hood warmly, and thanked the woodcutter for saving their lives. Then, after they had all had a nice lunch from little Red Riding Hood's basket, the woodcutter took the little girl home.

There has never been another wolf seen in that forest, but little Red Riding Hood takes no chances. She keeps right on the path, does not stop to play along the way, and never speaks to strangers.

(Great Big Book of Bedtime Stories)

 

The Purple Patch

(D. Bateson)

"Ma," said Jackie, "when will I be able to have those new trousers?"

She didn't look up from her ironing. Indeed, her weight slumped down more heavily on Dad's shirt, as though the question had piled yet another burden on her shoulders.

"After your Dad's been working a bit," she said at last. "In October, maybe."

Jackie ran out into the street.

He threw his rubber ball at the brick end of the house with a kind of ferocious determination. October was a long way off. Too long before he could be rid of the patch.

It was a neat patch, only about two inches square, in the seat of his trousers. But it was purple. When he had gone home and said: "Ma, I've worn a hole in my britches," she had patched it with only bit of material handy ... a piece of her old purple coat.

Again and again he threw the ball at the end of the house and snatched at it with both hands each time it flew back at him. In October he could say good bye to the purple patch, maybe. Meanwhile it was there for people to see. Those who didn't matter and those who did - like Penny Dale, the girl with soft yellow hair, who went to the snooty school on the hill.

Somebody came up the street and threw a paper dart at him. It was Jenner's kid.

"Going to sports, Jackie?" he asked.

Jackie threw the paper dart back at him, then aimed his ball at the house again.

He said: "No, Jenner, I don't think so."

"There are prizes," Jenner said. "Seven-and-six and half-a-crown, first and second."

Jackie kept on aiming his ball, but he was thinking just as hard as he was throwing.

"All the kids in town are off there," Jenner went on.

Jackie thought: Maybe if I could get a prize, I could buy those britches now and save Ma all the worry, too.

He said: "You have to pay, don't you?"

"Only a tanner."

"Only!" Jackie's voice was a faint mumble. "It might as well be a quid."

"I'll give you threpence for that ball."

"That wouldn't be enough."

"And another threpence for your burning glass."

Jackie thought about it. After a while he said: "You're a swindler, Jenner." Then he thought about it again. Ten minutes later they were on their way to the sports, Jenner with the ball bulging in his pocket and the burning glass gleaming in the sun, Jackie feeling the sixpence go moist from the sweat on his fingers. Jenner with his white running shoes and clean drill shorts. Jackie with his battered crepe sandals and brown trousers and his purple patch.

There were more kids at the sports than Jackie had ever seen. He knew he was about the scruffiest on view. For many weeks he had thought of going in for something, but just for the thrill of trying to win. He had put off going because of the purple patch ... because he would feel all the time that everyone was staring at him. Now he was running just for the sake of trying to get rid of it.

"First race!" the man with he megaphone yelled. "Boys' seventy yards flat!"

Jackie handed over his sixpence and lined up next to Jenner and the rest of them.

He tried too hard at the sprint. He tried to make his legs go quicker than they could, straining himself to the limit. But he beat Jenner into second place and collected half-a-crown in his trembling hand.

"Event Two! A Thread-the-Needle race!" the fat man in charge shouted through his megaphone.

Girls who had ignored Jackie before now crowded round to try to persuade him to be a partner. Penny Dale was there in the background, wearing a smooth white blouse above a plaid skirt. Her yellow hair, warm in the sunlight, was tied behind her head with a bright red ribbon. Still panting from the flat race, Jackie began to wish that Penny might be his partner. No luck. A bold girl called Helen Firman grabbed his arm and steered him to the starting-line. Then he saw that Penny and Jenner had paired off for the race.

Jackie put his hand down unobtrusively to the purple patch, and felt that no-one seemed to have made it a target for conversation so far. The feel of the stitches around the patch made him grit his teeth. If he could win this race he'd have ten bob.

Bold-eyed Helen went to the far end of the course. She held her needle ready. Jackie licked the piece of thread he'd been given until it came to a fine point. A whistle blew, and he ran like the wind. He was the first boy to reach a partner. Helen held the needle steady, though she giggled and goaded him on. But he couldn't get his hand steady, he was so excited. The end of the thread bent against the needle.

"Why did I have to pick anyone so clumsy?" Helen hissed.

The pair next to them had threaded their needle and an auburn-haired girl streaked down the course to finish first. Helen was the last. She walked away in disgust without saying any more to Jackie. A group of other girls laughed when he wandered slowly back with his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

The last race Jackie could go in for was the Wheelbarrow Race - his last chance for a big prize.

This time, though, none of the girls wanted to pair off with him. Helen staked her claim on Jenner this race because he'd helped his partner into second place in the Thread-the-Needle event. As he looked around, it seemed as though his heart had to fight to keep going. You had to crawl along on your hands in the Wheelbarrow Race, with a girl behind you holding your legs and pushing you along. But there was no-one. No-one, he thought, to help him to get the money for those new trousers.

So that's how Penny saw him, looking dejected and alone.

"Like to help a lady in distress?" she asked shyly. His face brightened in an instant, but he said: "You could have anybody who you want for a partner."

"No," Penny said, "I'm on my own."

Suddenly, crowding into his feeling of bewildered joy came the thought of the purple patch. He pictured Penny holding his legs behind, pushing him along ... and staring at the purple patch. He couldn't imagine her disgust.

His voice was desperate. "I can't. I'm a duffer at sport."

"Don't let me down, Jackie, please! Look, they're getting ready to start now!"

In daze, he went with her to the starting-line.

"I've never won once, in all the races I've been in for," he protested weakly.

But the fat man came along and hoisted Jackie's legs up for Penny to hold, then yelled in a loud, booming voice: "Ready! Off!"

Jackie forgot why he had come to the sports. He stopped thinking of Ma, and Jenner, and Helen Firman, and the seven-and-sixpenny prize. The one big thought that was choking his mind was that Penny was in a position to look down at the seat of his trousers - and at the purple patch.

His hands padded forward. They sent him over the warm turf at a hectic rate. He had only one aim - to get to the other end of the course as quickly as was humanly possible. The sooner he was there, the less time Penny would have for noticing the patch. He was only vaguely conscious of the tight grip she had on his knees, and the way she struggled on gamely behind. With his vision blurred in the frenzy, he scarcely noticed that they were leaving most of the other pairs behind. His breathing was violent. Coarse grass and sharp flints made his hands raw. The blood ran to his head. But he kept going.

With spirit of a leaping salmon at the end of a sportsman's line, he kept going, up the slope at the end of the course, and under the finishing-tape.

"We won, Jackie, we won!" Penny was gasping as he sat down on the turf, filling his lungs with air.

And he saw that there was no look of disdain on her face, only admiration.

 

 







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