Petite break

Trying to clear some silt out of the brains before returning to reading journals for tomorrow. I already know I'm not going to get one assignment for 101 finished (review sheets from their style guide), but I do want to get journals back to them so they have feedback: they're going to be submitting their third journal tomorrow and have yet to see anything from me to help them understand what I want. I didn't quite get the poetry response sheets done before class this afternoon (ended up frittering away too much of Saturday, despite my blog-stated resolve to get to work), but those students are willing to skate with me--not that they have much choice. I also have a set of journals for my T/Th 102 to do before that class, and of course some P&B business before that meeting. (Let me reiterate: Tuesdays are an epic pile-up.) I may end up bailing on the departmental curriculum committee meeting: I'm the department's rep to the college-wide committee, so I ought to be there, but if something has to give, that's probably it.

We're also facing a potential snow day on Wednesday, so there's a fair amount of tap dancing involved: it wouldn't be much of an issue except we're also about to have that idiotic (though admittedly much enjoyed) Presidents' Week break, so if we miss classes on Wednesday, I won't see the students again until after the break. I'm also thinking: depending on how bad the storm is and how bad the roads are on Thursday, what are the odds there will be enough students in class to make it worth coming in? The Thursday before a break (most students don't have class on Fridays), rotten driving conditions, young drivers with worried parents ... hmmmm. On the other hand, I do have an appointment near campus in the morning; I am supposed to give phone feedback to a publisher about their new style guide on Thursday, and I'm scheduled to do placement reading that evening (though if testing is canceled on Wednesday because of snow, there won't be many essays to read). All of which makes it sensible to come in anyway. Maybe I'll flip a coin.

Classes went well today. The students in 102 did a good job with "The Red Convertible," and we started talking about theme--quite productively I think. I hope we get to return to the conversation on Wednesday, and it would be great if I could go over the essay and draft thesis assignments before the break, but... In any event, I think most of the students are doing well. A few did not have the reading done and hadn't done their journals: instead of throwing them out, I pointed out to them that they were doing a disservice to their group-mates. It was a shame tactic, but I think that may be more productive than making it about rules. There were a couple of students who had barely been there before, so that was a bit odd: I'll hardly have a chance to see them before the break, and I'm uncertain whether they'll be able to get themselves caught up. I have to remind myself that it's their responsibility--and their problem if they don't. But it leaves me feeling unsettled not to be sure who is really in the class and who isn't.

The poetry class went well too. We cranked through the three poems untouched from last week (and I hope they learned something about reading what is actually there instead of what they think will be there: a lot of them completely missed the irony in Stephen Crane's "War Is Kind" or Siegfried Sassoon's "The Glory of Women"). I collected their response sheets for the two Wilfred Owen poems I assigned (which we did not go over)--but of course (because, as I keep telling them, I am the absent-minded professor) I forgot to hand out the poems I want them to read over the break. That's not a problem if we have class on Wednesday. If not, well, we're back to a tap-dance (and at least we'll have the Owen poems to go over on the first day back).

Paul and I were just talking about "habits of mind" that the students need to develop. I was reading a journal about the Barry Lopez essay "A Voice." Lopez makes it clear that at certain times of his life his family was affluent; he also describes the various places he lived at those times. At the beginning of the essay he says, "I was born in a watershed in New Rochelle"--and the student was confused: "I thought he was rich." I can only try to imagine what that student envisioned a "watershed" to be, but clearly he thought it was Lopez's abode. And yet, faced with something so glaringly inconsistent in his understanding, it never occurred to the kid to look up "watershed" to be sure it meant what he thought. That's the kind of brain blockage I find hardest to flush clear: the assumption of comprehension in the face of obvious incomprehension. That's why students missed the irony in the poems in 265 as well: finally one student pointed out that the refrain "war is kind" didn't seem to match the descriptions of the war. Yes, darling, that's the whole point. All I can do is perpetually point out to them what they are doing and hope that, like water dripping on rock, eventually an impression begins to be made.

OK, clearly I'm tired and cranky, and I obviously don't want to wade through any more journals. If I don't I'll be unhappy with myself tomorrow, but if I do, I may be facing diminishing returns in my "helpful" commentary. I'll look at a few more at least, but I make no guarantees. (And if I don't get them done? Yet another reason to suck it up and come in on Thursday, despite a potential paucity of student bodies in the rooms.) (Isn't it fun to be able to use "paucity" in a sentence?)