Quick Thursday recap

A student in today's class said she read the blog. She was very cute about it, saying she didn't realize I was so down to earth. She kept feeling like she was saying something that sounded potentially insulting, but I understood. She has always had the impression that academics are so far up in their heads that they can't just be people--and she's right about many. I know far too many in the professorial ranks who are so erudite as to be impossible partners in relaxed conversation. I said that I am an intellectual--and I am--but I can also be a person (I hope). I have more than one register of discourse available to me, I'm happy to say: white tie and tails, chalk and talk, beer and peanuts.

Another student (about whom I've blogged in the past: super bright but prolix in his written expression) also made it clear he'd read the blog. Once again, I trotted out my "I'm sitting in the kitchen analogy" and he said, "You are going to be sitting in the kitchen alone." Made me laugh. It also made me laugh that the young woman who thought I was down to earth said, "She [meaning me] wants spaghetti and I'm making chicken." Yeah, I said, you do have to use my recipe.... This analogy may turn out to be more useful in communications with students than I thought. I used it thinking it would be useful for my own attempts to understand what's going on with me, but it seems it has wider application.

Once again, they did a great job today. I circulated the room, as I did yesterday, answering questions, providing feedback, encouraging deeper thought. They're getting the hang of this whole "you have to change" thing. I think. I hope.

Shifting gears away from my dear students, I may have gotten myself in trouble--but I hope it will be worth it. For years, Paul has offered to nominate me for a Chancellor's Award in teaching. He did one year, but somehow (I won't go into my conspiracy theory about that) I never got the information about deadlines and missed my chance. Then I said "no" a few times, as I know that the application process is a bitch. But this time, I said, Oh, what the hell. So there's a preliminary meeting to go over deadlines and requirements on Tuesday (my excuse not to go to College-Wide Assessment committee meeting)--and now I have to start working on the application. I'm already thinking over what kinds of evidence I have of my impact on students, substantiation of my own claim to being a good teacher.... I may try to make myself do that some while I'm here, when there are no students (as is the case right now).

The other event of the day that I need to record is that just by happenstance, I was in the main office when a group of students had gathered to meet with Bruce regarding problems with an adjunct professor. As that's my bailiwick, as assistant to the chair, he asked if I had time to attend the meeting. I did, so I did. And it was horrifying.

The class in question is an 001: remedial writing. The professor is rude and insulting to his students: he refers to those who admit to confusion or ask questions as "members of the Dumas clan"--and, in the e-mails that they must print and bring to class, he specifies that "Dumas" rhymes with "some grass." We're not talking the French author here. As far as we could determine, the students are not actually writing; certainly they are not following the theme-based essay construction focus that is the mandated structure of an 001 class. He asks them to do grammar drills--following extremely confusing instructions--and then, according to the students, simply ignores them if they ask for clarification. This is also his stated policy in his e-mails to them: first he encourages them to ask questions but then he says if they ask the wrong kind of question at the wrong time, he will simply ignore them.

Jeezus. Bruce and I are in a real quandary about how to proceed. These poor students need to pass an exit exam at the end of the term, and right now, they are not getting anything at all that will help them do that. Bruce and I were trying to strategize what to do and how: we want to help these students, but we also have to tread very carefully in terms of this professor's contractual protections (which exist for very good reasons). We need to talk to him, in the (possibly vain) hope that he will radically alter his pedagogical approach in time to help the students succeed at the end of the term. Probably he needs to be observed (shit; another adjunct observation for me to try to schedule, dammit)--but that won't have immediate impact on what's happening with the students. This professor has not taught this particular course before, and Bruce is tearing himself to shreds about the fact that he made the decision to even offer the man the chance. We thought we were doing a good thing, making sure he had two classes to teach, but this is a debacle.

So, Bruce and I are going to stew about it over the weekend. Personally, I'm hoping for one of those blinding moments when a potential solution drops from the air.

Speaking of which, Mrs. Lost came to the office today. She turned in another disaster of a paper, but she said she "talked to the Lord" and suddenly realized what it is she needs to do, so she'll be able to do it when she revises this paper. I hope the Lord can help her out, because she needs more than just to understand the difference between summary and analysis. Here is a sample sentence (with some elisions) from what she turned in: "Aptly there was a bridge that were need inorden for the people to get to the other side off town ... the old woman haunthed The town's people until she got what it was that she wonted, inordent to get the bridge build. She had plain too feed the men after the bridge was build ... but she to tide to go to the store, she had thou to seen her grandchild, But the child has never been to the story alone." And on it goes like that. But this time, I intend to mark the hell out of the paper, circling each misspelling, pointing out each sentence structure error, every teeny thing, so she can see what she's up against.

And I try not to despair.

But I want to head off campus for the week with a sweeter memory of the week. After class, I talked to the very bright young man: in fact, he walked across campus with me so we could continue the conversation. I'm setting him a difficult goal--to write very simply, to throw away the ideas and phrases he has fallen in love with and exchange them for something much more direct, plain, and clear. It's going to be hard, but that's his challenge for the semester. And yet, going through that kind of struggle is a delight, because I know he's up to the challenge.

Just as I was getting ready to sum all this up--and after the stroke of 5 (when my time in Advisement officially ends)--a student was sent to me for advising. I didn't want to chase her out again, was a little rushed, but she ended up feeling like she got the help she needed, which is all to the good.

And now, without reviewing this at all (no spell check, no editing--rare), I'm going to race back to my office, fling stuff in and out of various bags so I have what I need for the weekend (mini-papers to mark, mostly), and head off for a spectacular steak dinner celebration with a good friend. Beginning with a very large scotch.