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THINGS HAVE CHANGED:

Since I am no longer a professor in the classroom, this blog is changing focus. (I may at some future date change platforms, too, but not yet). I am now (as of May 2019) playing around with the idea of using this blog as a place to talk about the struggles of writing creatively. Those of you who have been following (or dipping in periodically) know that I've already been doing a little of that, but now the change is official. I don't write every day--yet--so I won't post to the blog every day--yet. But please do check in from time to time, if you're interested in this new phase in my life.


Hi! And you are...?

I am interested to see the fluctuation in my readers--but I don't know who is reading the blog, how you found it, and why you find it interesting. I'd love to hear from you! Please feel free to use the "comment" box at the end of any particular post to let me know what brought you to this page--and what keeps you coming back for more (if you do).





Monday, October 5, 2009

Trudging

In the ridiculous movie A Knight's Tale (starring Heath Ledger and Paul Bettany, among others), Geoffrey Chaucer appears, stark naked, walking down the road. When the people he has just passed him ask what he is doing, he says, "Trudging." He then goes on to say something about "trudging" being a slow, dispirited and persevering movement.... I don't remember the exact bit (I should get it right: it's amusing--or at least it is as delivered by Bettany). Anyway, that's what I feel like I'm doing. Not quite dispirited (and fully clothed, though I don't think nudity is a requirement of the activity), but yes, trudging. Metaphorically of course. I chip away at the huge, steaming piles of student assignments, knowing more are poised to fall about my ears like snow off a heavily laden branch--and with a similarly chilling and uncomfortable effect. But on I trudge.

Class-wise it was a relatively easy day today. The kids in 229 did a great job--those of them who actually had their books and reading journals (six received a "no books" absence, including Mr. Gun, who stewed about it for a while and then left in a snit [a small Yugoslavian car...]). I should have been enforcing that policy all along, but I've gotten to the point that it truly bugs the shit out of me, so now, no wiggle room. No excuse for anyone not to have the book or at least photocopied pages. (I'm doing the same in my 101s). But that's beside the point. The discussion, about two contemporary Native American stories, was terrific. I wish Bruce had been there to observe today. They did great work in groups, and were enthusiastic and quite smart in the whole-class discussion. I'm not sure they'll be so expressive on Wednesday (when I actually will be observed): they'll be responding to another critical reading, which I know will be a struggle. But it's cool when they do the heavy lifting, and all I have to do is sort of direct traffic.

The 101 today was also easy, as it was peer review of drafts day. Oops, I beg your pardon: not drafts, versions. I insist that I do not want a work in progress or anything rough: I want something they think is perfect. Then we'll take that apart and make their best work better. I think that is important: they need to understand that what they bring into class is not the best they can be. But I think there is also value in showing them how to get from really rough ideas to something polished, so I may at some point have to reconsider how I structure teaching revision--and how to do it in a way that does not create exponentially more work for me. Hmmm. Still kicking that one around.

I also observed a colleague today, very cool class. She'd given the students a provocative reading and asked them to consider very interesting questions about the author's bias, how we can detect it, how he works to "manipulate" us into seeing the issue his way. Her approach and questions led to genuine critical thinking: the students were quite wonderful in their responses, as well as making good use of evidence from the text. Maybe I should ask her to come teach all my classes?

Tomorrow I'm expecting a slightly rougher day. For one thing, the T/Th sections haven't signed up for their conferences yet (I do mandatory conferencing in the week between first version and revision of their first papers), so I have to take class time getting that set up, and it will distract them from their focus on each others' papers. The T/Th sections also seem to be a little more, um, lively (especially RB; I'm always hauling them out of the chandeliers), so I'm not sure how well they'll focus even without that distraction. But I'm getting better--i.e. more succinct--in explaining the process. I used to give a two-page handout about what to do. I now write four bullet points on the board (maybe it's five; I don't want to think long enough to count).

And I'll have to get up at 0-dark-30 (as Daddy used to say) to plow through as much as I can before that first class. The P&B folder review I meant to do this afternoon got put aside in favor of student work I needed to have out of my hair so it doesn't get lost in the shuffle--and (following a motif here) I was also shuffling papers, making sure I have handouts at least for the rest of this week and next. I have this horrible feeling I'm going to forget a crucial handout at just the wrong moment. Bonnie described working with a particular director as being like standing next to someone whose strand of pearls had just broken: that idea of precious things bouncing around and falling through cracks and hiding in corners.... OK, so maybe that's me. Or I'm trudging and my strand of pearls has just broken?

Oh, and one more good note: the last student to leave 101 today is a young man who always writes terrific stuff in his reading journals and never says a word in class. I asked him why he doesn't speak up, and although he admitted he never raised his hand, he didn't have an answer why not. I said, "I can't force you to participate, but I want to encourage you to. You have really great ideas, and it would do wonderful things for the class if you would share them." He gave me a dazzling smile and said he'd try. I hope he does. That's a light that should definitely not be under a bushel or any other stifling object.

But I'm about to stifle myself--or am already stifled, or am the stifling object, or something. The wall and I have met once again in a less than loving embrace.

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