Slightly less ick

I'm still not out of the woods toothwise, so my trip has been canceled. I'm not looking forward to the follow-up appointment on Wednesday, but I am glad I already set it up to be out that day, thinking I'd be flying to Montana. I also think it will ultimately be a good thing for my students: those in 102 get more time with me to work on their papers, and the short-story students get a one-day crash tutorial in paper writing basics. They bombed their first mini-papers big time--worse than usual, in fact. One student told me she was afraid to ask me for help, has a hard time writing papers--and she was not very happy about the fact that I wouldn't accept her paper well beyond the limit for submission of late papers. Another in a similar boat also wanted me to take her paper to read and comment on, even for no credit: I told her, "you're asking me to put in extra effort for your paper" and I'm not going to do it. But I did suggest a number of other avenues she--they--could pursue to get feedback.

It's interesting that this is coming up after a weekend in which I talked several times about a struggle within myself about how much I offer up to the students. The analogy I came up with is, it's as if I've been serving up an enormous, gorgeous feast, day after day, only to have them refuse to eat it (or tell me they prefer McDonalds, or something along those lines). But I've felt that offering the feast is the only way to get them to come in the door. I want to learn to say, in effect, "Look, I'll be in the kitchen. There's a ton of good food in there, and if you want, I can show you how to make a hell of a meal--but you have to come on in and ask." I've felt that I'd be left sitting in the kitchen all alone. I've also felt I'm suddenly withdrawing a motherly, nurturing kind of attention and sustenance and telling them to go feed themselves--and I like being able to be motherly and nurturing. (I'm sure students reading this must howl with laughter: that ferocious bitch, motherly and nurturing? She's MEAN!!) But I've felt a powerful urge to offer, offer, offer to my students, which is as close to motherly as I get.

So there I was, certainly not for the first time withholding comfort and not cushioning blows: "yeah, that hurt. So, here's what you can do next time so it won't hurt so badly...." But I felt very differently about what I was doing: no anger, no frustration, just a sense of agreement: yep, growing up, taking responsibility, all that stuff is hard. It doesn't feel good at first. But you can do it, go on little chickens, go figure it out on your own.

The one older student (and by older, in this case, I mean older than I am) is a real worry in that class. I checked her records: she passed 101 and 102 with Ds. I wish someone had had the guts to fail her: her paper was the most frightening thing I've seen turned in by one of my own students. I've seen attempts that bad from students who are taking placement exams--and they get placed into remediation. I told her she needs to contact me via e-mail and she told me (as if it were a surprise) that she doesn't know how to use e-mail. I told her she has to learn, and not just for my class. All kinds of crucial information comes through via e-mail, not on paper, and if she can't e-mail, she won't make it. She said she didn't have anyone to help her, and I said, "You have a whole campus full of people to help you. Go to one of the computer labs and get someone to show you how to work your e-mail." I know it's hard for her, and I know she's facing a ferocious learning curve, but I can tell you right now, there is no way on earth that she's going to make it in my class. She has way the hell too much to learn, too far to go, and she's trying to make excuses for why she shouldn't have to do what she needs to in order to learn it.

And she's an adult. I find it a lot harder to take it coming from her than from the "kids."

I have a feeling the attrition in that class is going to be pretty swift and severe. I booted a couple of people out today again for not having reading journals with them, so we ended up with 13 students in the room (26 are still registered for the class). The thing that's confusing me is that I don't always have the same bodies: there are a few regulars, but the remaining bunch haven't settled into a pattern I can distinguish.

Today's 102 was pretty good. A few students were missing (typical), but more were there than not. Again, two were there without their assignment, so they got booted out. One was pissed off about it, and was ready to make a bit of a fuss, but I wouldn't engage with him: I just nodded, "Yes, I know you're here and you want to stay," and waved him out the door. Those that remained did a good job--for the most part--helping each other out, and I think they're all grateful they get the extra day to work in class.

As I'm writing all this, I'm distracted by the awareness that I want to write some e-mails to students about the fact that I'll be holding classes next week, and to let the absentees know what they should do in the meanwhile. I realize it's mostly an empty gesture: most of those who were absent won't check their e-mail anyway. But if I've made the gesture at least, I've fulfilled my responsibility, and the rest is up to them. ("I'll be here in the kitchen...")

Two brief meetings with students, one before classes today, one after. Both went pretty well. The one after was with a sweet girl with mild autism (self-confessed); I'm not sure how much of what I said she's able to take in, but we'll see. She's already trying, learning, and that's all I can ask of anyone.

Seems like there was something else I wanted to blog about, but it's gone now. I've not yet done anything productive in Assessment: I hope I start seeing students soon. Today I should have spent the time marking assignments, but I'm too tired for that sort of shenanigans. It will be interesting to begin to see how this new method of going through papers with the comp students works out. I'll begin to dive into their papers tomorrow, I reckon, but now, time to fold tents and slip away into the night (so to speak).