Stick a fork in me...

...I'm done. Not as in finished: the heaping K2 sized mountains of student stuff continue to grow. Done as in cooked, crispy, crunchy, burned to a cinder, toast. I was unable to make myself get up early enough this morning, realized on my way in that I had to put unmarked assignments aside yet again so I could photocopy all the forthcoming assignment handouts and know that I'm on top of that. I blew off yet another department meeting (and given what was discussed, rather wish I hadn't: a nice reframing of the "retention" issue, given the suggestion to call it instead "student persistence"). I was going to blow off P&B, too--had already sent word to Bruce and various other committee members that I wasn't going to attend--but I got the backlog of 101 review sheets marked prior to the meeting so decided to go. Glad I did--in part because I made it perhaps a little too vehemently clear that I cannot review 11 applications for adjunct positions prior to the break. Won't do them over the break, either. Got the others in the committee to agree that we'd have them ready by the second meeting after the break. Whew.

Meanwhile, 101 is falling to pieces. Only a little more than half of the few remaining students were there--and two of the students who were there are no longer among the remaining: both had already reached the point of no return. (Some of us have been discussing the fact that the early warning system is not early enough: by this time, a lot of students have already sunk themselves. But that was something else that came up at the departmental meeting: the effectiveness of a simple phone call to a student to point out that he/she is in trouble. More on that anon.)

Of the students who were there, a number did not have their papers. I had to emphasize that technical problems are not sufficient excuse for turning in a paper late. One student kept telling me her saga about her e-mail not working, her printer not working, her file on the flash drive not printing at the library, until I cut her off about the third time. She then said, "But I have it!" at which I said, "But I don't, and that's the key here." She couldn't argue with that. I have a sinking feeling I'm going to end up with about six students in that class--which makes the whole final project thing a bit problematic. Most of the problem isn't so much that the students are doing bad work: it's that they are not doing the work period--or doing it so late that I won't accept it.

And my Indian student (Mr. Incomprehensible) showed up in the last 30 seconds of the class with his paper and a million excuses for why he was missing required components. He then asked me to recap what I had gone over in class. Nope. I suggested he talk to some of his classmates on Thursday to see if they have notes they can share, but I'm not going to re-teach a class (especially, I hate to say, for him, because he hits all kinds of buttons in me and I'm terminally annoyed by him). Then he wanted to set up an appointment. For the hundredth time I told him that if he can't make my office hours, he needs to e-mail me to let me know when else he is available so I can figure something out. He tried to tell me his availability right then. Nope. E-mail me.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

But for the few who were there, I did a little work to set up the readings that are due on Thursday. (I'd intended to do an in-class thing about plagiarism, but I'm saving it until I have more of them there.) I've resurrected an assignment of opposing viewpoints about the fate of the Hetch Hetchy valley in Yosemite National Park, written prior to the construction of the dam. I remember from a million years ago, when I last taught the essays, that the students need a lot of background to get any kind of handle on the material. So I told them who John Muir is, the significance of Yosemite, of Hetch Hetchy, of the counter-argument, of the fact that this is part of a larger issue and that the debate continues today, 100 years later. They seemed to be taking it in and asking good questions.

The same was true for 102. This one flew much better than yesterday's (which was a disaster of epic proportions. I was teaching a classroom of flounder, apparently. Pun somewhat intentional.) Today, despite having brains with the approximate vigor of overcooked noodles, they managed to do some decent work on the first of the poems we're reading in this particular segment of the class. We'll see how things go from here, but they did good group work and we got a good discussion out of it. I did the same set up of what we're doing: now adding into the conversation between us and the literature the voice of other people who also analyze the work, what that other voice is for--plus an extremely broad introduction to the differences between poetry and prose. Yesterday's class didn't even get involved in my usual lesson on denotation versus connotation: I put the word "underpants" on the board and then ask them to call out other words that mean the same thing. Usually students love it: they can get silly and try to top each other's suggestions--and then we start talking about how the choice of words can tell us something ("The muscular, handsome young man stood at the window, wearing only his panties..."). Yesterday, pancakes would have more altitude. Today? Fun. Plus they got the point.

Anyway.

Shifting gears back to the idea of phoning students who are in trouble. I am on the fence about that. I do frequently call a student up at the end of class and gently point out the missing assignments, the absences--but I confess I often don't do it early enough (it's the insane optimist in me, that thinks the student will pull it together any minute now, a-n-y minute now....). I also wonder if there is some strange psychological difference in the student between the conversation, face to face, after class, and getting a phone call at home. I tend to resist hand-holding: part of me feels, dammit, they know the attendance policy, they know the assignments, surely they can keep track themselves, why should they need a warning from me? But part of me feels, no, here, in this kind of institution, they are still learning to keep track of things themselves. They need to be further socialized into what their responsibilities are, learn the skills for taking care of those responsibilities. Mmmmmmm, don't know. I'll have to mull that one over.

But speaking of which, one of the 102 students who did not turn in a paper and who missed her conference--and who had disappointed me on both scores, as I know she is smart and capable--turned up today. I took her out in the hall and in a friendly, concerned way asked her what happened. She told me she was under a lot of stress because she was working too many hours, and she started to cry. I am often suspicious of the waterworks, but she wasn't trying to make any excuses or ask for any favors. She said that she knew she'd already probably failed the class by missing the assignment but she was quitting her jobs so she could put her focus on school from here on, regardless. So I cut her a deal: if she keeps up with absolutely everything from here on, and does well with all of it, at the end of the semester I'll give her an incomplete so she can finish this missed assignment in June and get a reasonable grade. I emphasized that she would have to completely toe the line--any missteps and the deal is off--but she got that, and took the opportunity very seriously. We'll see if she keeps to it: I've had mixed results with this sort of thing, but if anyone can do it, I think she can. She's a lovely young woman in every way, and I choose to trust her unless she shows me I can't.

Sigh. My eyes have been burning since yesterday, as I'm still in some kind of sleep deprivation mode, and I'm unbearably cranky and pissy about just about everything as a consequence, and I know I need to get an early start tomorrow and grind grind grind--but, again, I'm still going to dance class tonight. (I tell myself I can head home early tomorrow and nap profoundly. I hope I can. I keep telling myself I can sleep later--and then I don't. Problem.) This dance obsession is getting dangerous: I found out that my favorite instructor teaches yet another class after the double on Sunday afternoons--and the later class is held about five minutes from my house. I could conceivably dance four or more hours on Sundays--but that's usually also prime paper grading time, so, youch, tough choice. I'm going to have to balance this very carefully: feed my spirit but also not dig myself into a work trench that keeps me miserable. A challenge.

But now I'm going to change into my high heels and a different skirt (shorter, flirtier, more fun to dance in) and head off. Today also was a gorgeous day, with more like it to follow as the week goes along. Lovely.