Maybe a bad idea

I find that I am once again facing the ferocious resistance I feel when it comes time to grade papers. I'm chipping away at first versions for the 102 classes, and I admit that the new process is speedier than the old--it takes me about half as long to grade a paper as it used to--but it's still extremely hard to apply my note to that particular grindstone. Yowch.

I did get all the papers for today's section marked and back to those who showed up (it was sort of an optional day, as the original syllabus said I'd cancel, but still, I'd hoped more students would take advantage of the opportunity, fool that I am). I was quite certain that I'd have plenty of time today to work on the papers for tomorrow's class, and that whatever I didn't get done today, I'd have plenty of time to work on tomorrow. Au contraire. I only collected 13 (out of what should be 24), and I graded five of them while I sat in the advisement office--but I'm now out of gas. When I got back to the office, I had a bunch of other bits I had to nail down lest they fall through the floor-boards (setting up adjunct observations, making sure I have handouts for the next few classes, making sure I have the right information in the right folders). And I rather blissfully forgot that I have an Assessment Committee meeting tomorrow morning at 10 (an hour plus I could have used). And now I've got two students from the short story class coming during club hour, the block from 11:30 to 12:45 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Usually that time is reserved for committee meetings, but I've scaled back so far on committees that I have many club hours free--and yet, with the students coming, that time is now effectively shot, too.

I'm glad the students are coming: they are worried about their reading journals as well as their next mini-papers, which are due on Wednesday. It's a good indication that they want the help, and I do not regret making myself available to them, as they are unable to get to my office hours. Yet the question now becomes, when do I grade the remaining papers for tomorrow's class? I'd try to gut through a few more tonight, but I know I've reached the point where I'm unlikely to be able to absorb what I'm reading, so the attempt would be counterproductive at best.

It looks like an early alarm is the answer. That decision may bite me in the ass, but I have faith that somehow it will all work out. ("How will it?" "I don't know; it just does. It's a mystery." Thank you, Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard.)

The short story class today was interesting. Again, it was optional, but more students took advantage of it (a sign of their maturity--and their concern about their grades). One of the students who is coming to see me tomorrow was close to tears: she said "This has always come easily to me before, and now it seems like I can't get anything other than a C." Oh, how I understand that frustration, that panic, the blow to the self-esteem. I reminded her that she now has a monster as a professor: my standards are extremely high, and I demand a lot. She was worried that we're already in October: I reframed that and said, no, it's early days yet: she has plenty of time to turn things around. I also said that she and I can figure out what she is doing and what she needs to do more of, or do instead. I think she feels better just knowing I will help her, am happy to help her.

On the other hand, the older student I am most worried about in that class was not there today. She finally submitted a reading journal--and not only does it bear no resemblance to the form I mandated, the content is merely a (rather crappy) summary. I do not want to humiliate her, but on the other hand, I do not believe she can possibly pass my class--or any class that actually requires her to read, write, and think. How brutally honest should I be? Here is a woman of a certain age, who has the courage to go to college, who wants to become a social worker--and who is (as far as I can tell) close to functionally illiterate. And who has gotten what I can only assume are mercy passes from her instructors before me. But it's no mercy: it just has kicked her problems down the road. I truly do not know how to approach her, what to say. She needs to know just how dire her situation is, but do I want to rob her of hope? No. I fret over this.

So the students who come to me to figure out how to move a C to a B or an A seem like manna from heaven by comparison. Yes, I'm demanding a kind of thinking they are not familiar with, have not had to engage in before: it's a whole new world, and they don't speak the language yet. But at least they're making the effort to get the help--and they have sufficient skills that I actually can help. Poor Mrs. Lost does not have the skills for me to even begin to work on.

Oh argh. But I will talk with Mrs. Lost. I'll have to trust to the inspiration of the moment, but I'll talk to her. It's the only thing I can do.

Shifting gears again to the more positive: one of the students I'll be meeting tomorrow sent me an e-mail (on my request) to remind me of our appointment (otherwise I'm likely to forget, as I didn't have my calendar with me to write it down). His message was not properly capitalized, or spelled, but it was cute: he said: "we have a date tommorow 11:30, your office ...dont break my heart :)." I assured him I would not jilt him. But you may begin to understand why he didn't do well on his mini-paper, and why he struggles with his reading journals. Even though I don't insist on any kind of correctness in journals, the systemic problems indicate a lack of something crucial, I believe.

Ah well. As a friend of mine and I used to say, onward and awkward. I'm going to do a little more organizing of folders and papers and flotsam, then steal off into the night.