KEY POINTS:
Our Victorian forebears had the hang of letter-writing. By lamplight, late into the night, they penned long missives to distant aunts and close friends, to the bishop, perhaps, or to a firm of lawyers in the city, drafting their thoughts carefully before taking up a fresh sheet of paper, and perhaps a new nib to make a final "fair copy".
Thoughtful composition allowed time for reflection. Is this the exact word needed to convey the sense intended? Does that tone seem more formal or more flippant than is required? In short, does it say exactly what the writer wants it to say and exactly as the writer wants it said.
In a world of email, such nice considerations disappear. Punctuation, spelling and precision of vocabulary are sacrificed in the search for speed. Nuance is eradicated. Irony does not survive passage through cyberspace.
Who among us has not regretted - sometimes an instant after clicking "Send" - the content of, or even the decision to send, an email? When will they design a dialogue box to pop up just after you click "Send" that asks "Are you sure you want to send this? I mean really, really sure?"?
We can never know whether such a warning would have persuaded Paul Buchanan not to send the email that has cost him his job. Buchanan, a senior lecturer in political studies at the University of Auckland, was sacked after sending an email to a student telling her that she was "under-performing and under-qualified" and was "preying on some sort of Western liberal guilt" by seeking an extension for an overdue essay after her father died. The decision prompted a flood of emails to the Herald's online forum and other websites, most of them supporting a man they described as an inspirational teacher.
By any reasonable standard, the email was out of line. Buchanan - who apologised the next day, long before a complaint was lodged about the matter - has sought to explain, if not excuse, it by saying that he was under pressure on several fronts, personal and professional.
An earlier email exchange in which he was both sympathetic and professional, tends to support the view that the objectionable email was an aberration but it was still unforgivably high-handed, arrogant and callous.
But the matter deserves to be seen in a wider context. Buchanan has a reputation for ferocity: by the accounts of many who have studied under him, he sweats blood for his students and he expects them to sweat blood in return. He does not suffer fools gladly.
Whether the student concerned was a fool or an idler cannot be known. But Buchanan plainly thought she was inadequate for the demands of the course and he suspected that she was trying to extract an extension to which she was not entitled.
He would not be the first to do so. Any tertiary teacher will attest to the phenomenon of sudden, mysterious, mass family bereavement the day before an assignment deadline. Likewise, the feeling is widespread that undergraduate standards are slipping as international students with poor English-language skills are admitted (a cursory read of the posted comments of those who condemn Buchanan out of hand reveals an alarming command of English for people studying at a New Zealand university).
The earlier email exchange shows a student whose English is poor and who is plainly not keeping up with the course's demands. Buchanan said so and although his style was unforgivable, the substance is fair.
International student fees, as a proportion of the university's revenue, has almost halved since 2004 but the university should not, in the hunt for the fee dollar, expect its staff to tolerate, and even reward, mediocrity.
All things considered, sacking a fine teacher seems excessive and unwise.
