Communications may be sporadic

Not only am I awash in assignments to mark, but I'm about to have company for three weeks, so whatever time I spend not actively working, I'm unlikely to be blogging. Or at least not as regularly as is my wont.

I'm taking a moment to breathe here. I'm marking revisions and had a vague memory that maybe a student had submitted her works-cited page separately from her paper (late, as if it were some completely different assignment). Because I take ten points off for any missing required element (works cited page, use of specific additional sources, that sort of thing), I didn't want her to suffer a whopping penalty for something she had, in fact, done. Digging through the homework stack for her class, I came across the homework I give students in which they need to ask any questions they have about a forthcoming paper assignment, so they are sure (and I am sure) they know what they need to do. Of course the one that stood out of the stack was the one by Mr. Contempt. And quelle surprise: it reeks of contempt. He didn't talk about the assignment except to say that he would probably be able to write better on other topics, that school isn't supposed to teach students to be passive but is supposed to allow them to think about the big philosophical questions of life, and to read the work of great thinkers like Thomas Jefferson, blah blah blah.

Instantly I felt sick, literally nauseated. So, I'm breathing past that and working out how I will approach him--because this cannot go on. At the moment, I don't think I will explain my pedagogy to him, though I may offer to, if he specifies that he's genuinely interested in knowing. I will, however, tell him that he should withdraw: he's on the verge of failing anyway, and since he clearly does not like my approach, he should take the class again with a professor he finds more congenial to his elevated intellect. I think I can do that without losing my cool--and I fucking, flat-out refuse to loose my cool with him, as it is so clearly what he wants. Ed pointed out the fact that this kid has skillfully managed to manipulate the interaction between us so he can say he failed the class because he disagreed with me, not because his writing or thinking are inadequate.

I confess, I'm half tempted to say to him, "OK, you pick your own topic. Write about anything that requires reading a nonfiction, persuasive essay and doing research into factual ideas related to that essay. Let's see how brilliant your writing is then." But no. My job is to teach students to write well about ANYTHING, not just the topics that they like. Frustration and boredom are facts of life, kiddiwinkles, and as grown-ups we simply learn to gut through. So keep your contempt to yourself and suck it up and learn to actually write. All I can hope is, whether he withdraws or sticks it out to the end (and very likely fails), that his next English professor is every bit as demanding and rigorous as I am.

Harumph.

Oh, argh, this is just getting more heated up, not less. Meanwhile, I have the door open, because it's my office hour, and down the hall a colleague is (again) showing a movie--I think more of Bonnie and Clyde--so I'm listening to shouting and gunfire and carnage of the filmic variety. Not exactly a soundtrack to soothe the savage breast (or irritated professor). Ah well. I may just plug in my headphones and put something fun up on the iPod. And snack. Snacking is always good.