The individualized pedagogical objectives of random felines.(The Last Laugh)

After writing last month's article on my really wanting a cat, I expected at least a dozen cat-loving subscribers to send me a feline companion or two.

But after waiting in vain for a whole 30 hours, I stopped off at a local humane society to interview cats. Within a half hour, I picked out two and filled out the paperwork to adopt them. Less than 24 hours later I had passed the interview process and the two cats had a new address.

Samson is a young male two or three years old, picked up as a stray in October. He's buff and white, with fur as soft as angora and a ringed tabby tail. He loves to play with toys, especially the Cat Dancer and Cat Charmer, and likes to be petted and brushed, but remains a little skittish.

Royla is a six-year-old female, given up for adoption last January. Her short, charcoal gray fur is missing on her lower back, where she licked it off due to impacted anal glands. She's very she and hides most of the time, coming out to ask for wet food and to play with the Dancer and Charmer, and offers herself for an occasional pet.

In the month since they came, I've learned a lot about cats. (My last job as cat caretaker ended in 1990, when Oreo was hit by a car.) As an academic observer, I can't help but notice that the pedagogical objectives they seem to have adopted for me are not unlike those an administrator or educator may set for a staff member or class of students.

1. Don't move too fast. Rapid movements scare them, so they run away and hide, often to a safe place where they can observe without being vulnerable. Some faculty members and staff operate the same way, especially before they know and feel they can trust you. Family members are also more cooperative if a move is telegraphed long enough in advance for them to get comfortable.

2. Communicate openly. Again my kitchen counter is the best place for communication with my cats as well as family members. Samson gets antibiotics mixed with his wet food to treat his gingivitis, and the kitchen counter is a natural place to serve him. They read my body language, like whether I'm in hurry or can linger over them. Likewise faculty and staff need a regular place and time to communicate with their leaders.