See, this is why...

Those of us who love teaching on the good days love days like today. Both my classes flew just fine: no sudden losses of altitude, no turbulence, no crash landings. In the short story class we were talking about Leslie Marmon Silko's "Yellow Woman" (another story about a woman enjoying an illicit sexual liaison with no guilt). The students had read it with no set-up from me, but before I put them into groups, I gave them a little of the knowledge I gleaned from a quick read through a few critical sources I scrounged up the other day (very quick and dirty research but sufficient). The set-up was enough: every group was getting into it, even getting into excited debate about interpretations. Class ended early again: this seems to be a pattern with the lit classes. Once they have stopped coming up with questions and comments, I figure we're done; I don't have to talk to them about writing, as I would in a comp section, and I don't feel compelled to shove any more interpretation on them from my perspective. I did talk to them a little about the comparison between Chopin's "The Storm" and the Silko story--and one student came up to me after class to ask about the focus for her next mini-paper, picking up on what I'd said. Her idea seems on the money, and with luck she will express it well in her paper. As a happy side note, that same student has not contributed to class discussion prior to today (or if she has, it's been so small a contribution that I didn't notice it), but today she was participating with confidence and intelligence. It's always great to hear from students other than the usual suspects.

And today's 101 went even better--rather to my amazement. I started out by giving a brief overview of their next paper assignment, and I think they were stupefied with anguish at the thought of having to write another paper. Certainly they were silent and unresponsive. I did ask them if they'd remembered to bring not only their books but their brains with them: I'd have gotten a similar reaction if I'd asked a room full of flounder. But, but but! I put them in groups to discuss the essay, gave them a task to follow their discussion from their reading journals (their first time with the new, better form: I think I made a very good decision to switch, as they seem to be getting significantly more out of the texts). And after a little taxi down the runway to gather speed, the energy in the room took off. The groups were working well together and they were genuinely engaged in figuring out the material productively. Again, some debate over interpretation going on, in more than one group.

In one group in which a lively debate was going on, the two debaters (listened to carefully by their more quiet group mates) were going at it, and I overheard the young woman say, "You're not listening to my point!" The young man said he was, that she wasn't listening to his. She said, "But I agree with part of what you said! You're so busy trying to make your point that you aren't hearing what I'm saying!" It was rich and wonderful to see them wrestle not only with the issues under debate but also with how debate is supposed to take place. Very cool.

Just by luck of the draw, Mr. Macho ended up in a group of all young men, two of whom are among the brightest students I have this semester, across the board. Those two had worked together before on their papers, so they already know the level on which they can talk with each other, so they dove in. The fourth member of their group is more quiet but he's solid, and he would insert his own apt remark or observation from time to time, when he could get a word in edgewise. Mr. Macho started the period in his usual arms-crossed, "I refuse" pose, but soon I noticed that not only had he unfolded physically, he was bringing points into the discussion, referring to his book, engaging in the debate. Hah! I thought. Ah-hah! Gotcha! He's still resisting me madly (Mommy issues, no doubt): he wanted to argue about a point at the end of class, but I kept agreeing with him--and then shifting the ground of the argument, as he was trying to argue something that was irrelevant to the main issue. It must have driven him somewhat bats that I wasn't taking the bait and fighting with him. (Ahhh-HAH!)

All in all, I'll be most interested to see where our conversation goes when we discuss the essay I've assigned for next week. It's more difficult, longer--and we only have one day in which to go over it, as the other day we'll be having our library lesson on research. I'm going to have to set up a very specific task to help them focus on the key points--and I feel more than a trifle annoyed with myself for not allowing more time for this particular reading. (OK, I admit it: I wasn't thinking about how the library lesson day would impact our discussion time.) I'll take a look at the syllabus and see if I can squeeze another discussion day in somewhere--but it's unlikely I'll find one, because the next assignment is three essays by Michael Pollan: another mistake, as they're all wonderful, and not long, but the arguments are quite dense and deserve more class time. Ah well. This is what happens: I try on something new, and it works or doesn't, and I then make adjustments the next time around. In this case, that'll be next fall.

Two other items of note: we finally got our spring schedules. The scheduling committee initially put them together in May, for fuck's sake, but Bruce and Allen (designated faculty assistant) then had to do whatever voodoo is required to avoid potential problems, reallocate courses originally given to people who will be on sabbatical or who are retiring, and god knows what. Mine is, I think, exactly what I picked, but I realize, looking at it again now, it is an odd schedule, some days very long and loose, others shorter but jammed tight--and one day, Wednesdays, when I have one class, at 12:30, and not another damned thing, unless I schedule an office hour. Weird. But I'll be teaching Nature in Lit--assuming I can get it to run. It didn't run last spring (as you may recall: that's how I got the poetry class at the 11th hour), but I'm going to put up flyers for it soon. I won't be able to haunt advisement, as I've done in the past (I'll be out of town when advisement begins, and then busy as hell once I'm back), but fingers and toes crossed. One year I ran an "ad" in the campus newspaper: I may see if I can do that again. Man, I want that puppy to run!

The other item of note has to do with why I'll be so busy when I'm back in January, prior to the start of classes. I have accepted Bruce's appointment of me as evening assistant chair of the department. I'm still a lowly associate professor, so this isn't a promotion, but it is a "major leadership position" (highly desirable in terms of promotion, when it's time for me to go up for full)--which means I can cut back even further with my committee work (hooray). And although I don't get any classes off for it (no "reassigned time"), I get a healthy boost to my pay--financially the equivalent of being made full professor.

My duties, as I understand them, consist largely of helping Bruce put together the schedule of courses for the evenings and weekends--and then helping him schedule the faculty for them, mostly adjuncts but also full-timers who pick up additional courses on an adjunct basis. I will have to be available some evenings, in case either adjuncts or students who cannot get to the office during the day have problems--and I will, on occasion, have to conduct an observation (either of a new adjunct or of someone who may be a problem), though I think I get a little extra pay for that, on top of the other boost. There may be other assorted tasks: I need to talk to the colleague who currently holds the position. (She's retiring in December, which is why the post became vacant.) It doesn't sound onerous, much of it sounds interesting (I have a weird enjoyment of the jigsaw puzzle that is scheduling), and the payoff seems well worth it.

So, hooray for me!

Now, however, I need to crawl home (I did something unfortunate to my neck this morning in the shower, can hardly turn my head), eat something (perhaps lighter and less scary than last night's brontosaurus rib), and try to get to bed early. Tomorrow I'm subbing a class at 10, so it's another early alarm day--but the on-campus part of my work week is very nearly over. I'll be marking student assignments all weekend again: c'est la vie.