No wannoo.

"No wannoo" is my daughter's favorite phrase. She says it frequently these days, usually when told that now is the time to change the diaper, take a bath, brush teeth, take a nap, come in and eat dinner, etc.

I agreed to serve on a dissertation committee for a man who audited one of my graduate-level courses a few years ago. His department renamed itself a few years ago to try to escape the stigma of their "science," but let's call it what it really is: Home Economics. Most (but not all) of the research in that department consists of poorly rehashed psychology, marketing, and food science. One of my colleagues made the mistake of agreeing to serve on a Home Ec committee right after she arrived here. She reports that the candidate had, among other grievous errors, misspelled more than one of the words in the title of his dissertation, and proudly reported p-values greater than 2. She was the only person on the committee who found fault with the candidate, and so the candidate was passed and received his Ph.D. She filed a grievance with the Graduate School and sent a copy of the dreadful dissertation to the dean for his perusal. Because of this kerfluffle the Graduate School now requires a unanimous vote for any candidate to pass.

When the Graduate School asks me to serve as the external member on dissertation committees, something we are required to do at least once a year, the offerings from the Home Ec department are the second ones that I cross off the list (right after all the offerings from the College of Education). So why did I agree to do this one? I just don't know. I was cornered, trapped, insane!

This gentleman would like to defend soon. But he doesn't just want me to show up at the defense, ask a few questions and then walk away. He wants me to read and comment on the rough draft of his dissertation. There's a message to this effect in my email box right now, staring at me, not blinking.

NO WANNOO! NO WANNOO!