Oh, argh

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I launched into a discussion of poetry in 102 today and didn't look at my own damned syllabus, so I started the students on the wrong set of poems. Further, I didn't come to class prepared with the study questions the syllabus says they need to have ready for Wednesday. I fiddled around with the assignments so they have at least some clue what to do for the next class, and I think I have the study questions done, but I haven't looked at them in so long, I have no idea whether I actually like the way I set up the assignments. So, not only do I need to get the study questions ready, I need to look at their syllabus (not my copy) to see how to move assignments around to make some kind of sense. As soon as I'm back in my office, guess what I'll be doing.

I do intend to keep the T/Th class on track, however, so for the next two weeks my 102s are going to be out of sync. I don't much care for that, but oh well. At least one class should be doing what I said we'd be doing.

The short story class is on track, but it may have contracted down to 14 students; it's hard to tell. Today was not exactly heavy lifting, but it wasn't a rip-snorting good class with lots of student input. Are they shell-shocked? Did the story simply not land very well with them? I don't know what's going on. And I'm not in a frame of mind right now to try to figure it out.

I've been fretting a lot about Mrs. Lost. I realized, on top of everything else wrong with her second mini-paper, it isn't actually a second mini-paper: it's simply a longer version of her first one. I've just spent some time composing a letter telling her that she cannot, cannot pass. Why a letter? OK, I confess: part of it is my deep-seated aversion to confrontation. But the larger issue is that she needs to hear in no uncertain terms that she can't make it, and I need to have documentary evidence of why I say so. I marked the paper she submitted. It's an ocean of red.

Painful sigh.

Equally painful, I've not come up with any good solution to the problem of the adjunct professor who is taking his frustrations out on his remedial students. I fully understand his frustration (this is why I will not teach 001), but what he's doing is completely counterproductive. I need to talk to Bruce about it. (When? Christ, there is no time in the day, unless I start getting here at 8 a.m.)

I'm also trying to get some help with observations of new adjuncts. A few former members of P&B have graciously agreed to help (even though they're off full professor rank, and hardly need the small sum one gets paid for conducting such an observation), but I need to figure out who's left with no observer and suck it up to observe them myself. In addition to the observations I need to do of full-time faculty. Well, I agreed to do the job.

Days like this I feel like I'm being pinched in all directions--and just a few days ago I was saying how much looser and more open my schedule feels this semester, since I've backed off committees and so on. Jinxed myself, apparently.

I feel like I've got a squirrel stampede going on in my brain. (Anyone remember the Electronic Data Systems Super Bowl ad on the Running of the Squirrels? I still laugh.... http://youtu.be/2Z2_kKAe9y0) Part of the problem is that I need things (calendar, list of adjuncts to be observed, and so on) that are in my office, and without them, I don't have the tools I need to get those squirrels under control. I could be marking the reading journals and mini-papers for the short story class--plus I just got final versions of essay 1 from today's 102 class, so that's even more to grade--but, well, it's hard to mark papers in the middle of a squirrel stampede.

But, to reframe the day, I like to remind myself of something good that has happened. And I have several good things to remember. One is, the young man from the short story class who has come to me for help several times, who read the blog (the one who said it might be "too honest")--I'll call him Dedicated--e-mailed again asking for a meeting to go over his next paper, the first full-size paper of the semester. In that e-mail, he referred to me as his new favorite professor. This despite the fact that he's spent a lot of time telling me that I frustrate him because he feels he can't "win" with me. Clearly, he's actually learning--and discovering that learning, stretching his brain, can be a wonderful thing. I'm flattered, of course, and I don't believe he's blowing smoke. I think he genuinely is happy about me as his professor--and of course, I'm delighted with him as a student. He wants every shred of help and input I can give him, and he's willing to take the critiques. Please God, give me classrooms full of students like him.

I also met with the very bright young man from tomorrow's 102: I have to come up with a nickname for him. He's grappling with the need to set aside the fancy phrasing and get clear: I gave him a hard time about a couple of his sentences--and actually stopped "teaching" for a moment to edit instead, so he could see how rewording would make his ideas stand up. It was a great session, and I think he's starting to get the hang of it. As I said to him, his ideas are complex: if he also strives for complexity in the sentences, it's overwhelming, and his readers will lose his points in the verbiage. He's worried about sounding like a kindergartener, but I reminded him that his ideas are far too advanced for that, no matter how simply he expresses them. I hope that got through. We'll see: the proof is in the paper.

While I was here in the Advisement Center, I actually did advise two (!!) students. One just needed to know if she can drop a class (yes, but you'll need to take it again soon, as without it, there are a bunch of classes you can't sign up for--and you'll go under full-time status, so be sure you understand the ramifications of that decision). The other wanted to know what he needs to graduate: that was a little more in depth, but he was very happy with the information I gave him (as was the young woman). Two satisfied customers. That deserves a contented sigh.

I'm about to reread this post, then depart this building and head back to my office. I've got a busy day tomorrow--including whatever paper grading I don't get done tonight--so I want to make sure the decks are clear and the squirrels have left me standing and at least relatively compos mentis.