I took a snap of the Irvine Ranch Water District pumping facility across the street from IVC. It's where the IRWD is trying to deal with the military-caused volatile organic compound contamination in the groundwater maybe 1000 feet beneath the campus. I believe that, these days, IRWD is trying to push the plume of toxicity eastward, away from the aquifer that supplies, or that will supply, drinking water.
Eventually, the site will house a purification plant. They've been pretty busy over there lately, so maybe it's already there. (See The Irvine "Desalter" Project)
Did you read Saturday's OC Register article about PCB-laden fish found in OC water bodies? Not good. It's amazing what we put up with. Or what we try not to know.
I tell my students, "There's groundwater beneath us, you know. It's contaminated with toxic chemicals. They're trying to clean it up. It'll take decades."
Students stare. Their faces say: "No, that can't be true. We've never heard that. That's false.
Why do you hate America?"
At about 11:00, someone told me that there was some hubbub in the parking lot out toward the bookstore. Someone said they heard an ambulance. Something serious was happening.
I stayed put. I had lots to do. Stuff happens. Staring at it won't help.
Earlier, a friend insisted that, on my way to my 12:30 class, I stop by her classroom in A300 to take pictures of the trash that seems to persist there. On the way to the room, I noticed more hubbub over in the parking lot. I didn't ask anyone what it was about. Someone was hurt, I guessed. The usual suspects were out there. They seemed to have things well in hand. I saw a cop tramping through a planter. I saw yellow tape.
Sure enough, the friend's room was pretty messy. I took these snaps.
I told the friend that the room looked pretty bad, but I'd seen worse. At IVC, there's nothing special about trash on the floor, spilling from baskets. The floor is scuffed. Dust collects. Grime forms. Instructors and deans complain. Nothing happens. Or things happen only when they complain.
Ten years ago, the campus was clean. Things worked.
Then, thanks to corrupt unionists and trustees, Mathur became President. Everything got F-ed up. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. One hand washes the other. Disloyalty will not be tolerated. I'm not going anywhere. Hey, now I'm the Chancellor!
I headed to my classroom, in A400, and, when I entered it, I realized that, trash-wise, it was worse than my friend's. I walked around the room, inspecting the elements of trashulosity.
I guess you get used to it. I said that. Students stared at me.
After class, I headed over to A100 for a meeting, but I realized that it wouldn't start for another ten minutes. So I asked Ms. C about the hubbub. She said that a student was found dead in his car. She didn't seem to know any details. "Maybe an overdose," she said.
After a moment, I said, "That's sad." Silence.
The meeting was odd. We were organizing a holiday party. At one point, I opined that a certain activity that had been planned was, well, undignified. Some regarded me with incomprehension. "Explain that."
I went back to my office.
Eventually, we received an email from IVC President Glenn Roquemore. It explained that a student was found dead in his car, by his father, at about 11:00 a.m. The father had tried unsuccessfully to reach his son by phone. So he came to campus, looking for him.
"There is no evidence of violence or foul play," wrote Glenn. The kid was 21.
A friend dropped by. "This is a bad semester," she said.
At about 5:00, I hooked up with Rebel Girl, and we headed to the parking lot, headed home. Someone told us that we oughta check out B101, if we want to see trash. We dropped by there, and we peered inside. It looked trashy, but not very.
Out at the parking lot, we walked the walk of people who had had a long and strange day.
Someone accosted us. We turned around.
"Thanks, you guys," she said, from a distance.
We spun around.
(See also
● Huntington Beach toxic dump fiasco in this morning's OC Reg
● Are College Students Techno-Idiots? in Inside Higher Ed.)
