Almost there...

I've got four more papers to grade for tomorrow's 102, four more students' worth of numbers to crunch. I'll still be collecting one last assignment from them tomorrow--their self evaluations--but the plan is to be able to duplicate what happened in 102 today:

We were talking about what they learned over the semester, what they found most helpful in terms of assignments--and many said how much they loved the final-paper proposals, how clear and simple those were. I agreed but stated that my concern is that there is often a problem with follow-through: students get their proposals approved, but then their final papers show evidence of lots of "first version" problems, instead of being as clear and polished as their final versions of papers 1 and 2. (This is a real concern for me, but I'm not sure how to address it--yet.) They blanched a bit at that--and then one asked, "Do you have our final papers?" I said, "I do," and pandemonium broke out. They utterly freaked; they'd been calm and steady, knowing they had to wait to find out, and to suddenly realize they could know right then what their grades were was a huge emotional whammy. I said I'd be happy to still hold on to the papers until Wednesday, but no, they decided they'd rather not suffer any longer, waiting to know. I also had final grade forms for them, the ones with everything filled in except the self-evaluation--so I gave them their grade forms and papers, then went over how to calculate the final grade.

Of course, several were hoping that the self-evaluation would put them over a much bigger hurdle than is possible from one tiny assignment (it won't move a student from a low C to a B, for instance). But they now know pretty much what their final grades are going to be. I told them I'd still be available in the office on Wednesday as planned, if they want to come by to talk to me about anything, but otherwise, we just accomplished what we'd have been doing during that final class period. One said, "You mean this is the last time we'll all be together?" When I said yes, she said, "I feel ... that makes me kind of sad." Several of them said that my class was their hardest class but I was their favorite professor--and since they already knew their final grades, I don't think they were blowing smoke. One (the good, solid A student of the bunch) had said earlier that one of the frustrations was not only because the work was hard but also because they like me and want to please me. They were reluctant to leave, reluctant to let go of the experience, so at the end, I had them all stand up and I said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the survivors of Prof. P's ENG102JC" and we all applauded. That broke the last few strings tying them to the class, and to me, and off they went--many saying they would, in fact, see me on Wednesday. That would be lovely.

And I have to say, of course it is immensely gratifying when they tell me they like me, want to please me, that I'm their favorite professor. I do not teach to be loved (obviously); I get that kind of validation elsewhere. But it is lovely, and flattering, and strangely soothing to know that students who have just been through hell and back in my class still can think kindly of me as a human being. I'm touched.

But when I say I want the same experience in 102 tomorrow, I don't mean I want them to shower me with warm fuzzies. And I don't mean I want them to freak out (that surprised me, honestly: it hit their bodies to the point where one was fanning her face, several were holding their chests; I might as well have flung a lightening bolt into the room). I mean that I want to give them "closure" on the class a session early--so they don't need to come to the office for their final grades on Thursday, and so I don't need to prolong the fuss. One of my students from the T/Th class wrote to me yesterday to say he's very anxious about his final paper. I told him he'd have to wait until Thursday, because at that point, I was thinking I wouldn't push to get these papers done. But after today's class, I thought, why not get it over with? Why keep them hanging on?

I will still have to read the self-evaluations and plug in the mark in their final grades--but that's painless, as I'm very interested in what they have to say. Several suggested that I distribute their responses to my students next semester--and I may take them up on that. (I have thought about doing what several colleagues do and instead of a final self-evaluation, having them write a letter to the next batch of students with advice about what to do--and not do--in order to succeed.) But really, that last thing is so tiny, it feels like nothing at all.

And I already have graded a number of the papers for the short story class. I gave them their grade sheets, too, and explained how to figure out what kind of grade they'd need on their final papers in order to get the grade they want for a final grade. I was tired enough (and have enough trouble with math) that I got a little confused in the explanation, but they sorted it out. And several had a somewhat painful reality check: yep, those missing reading journals and mini-papers really do hurt your final grade. I made a point of explaining the concept of the "mercy D," and of course, Mr. Determined asked if I wouldn't also give a "mercy B"--but that's not mercy, that's tantamount to saying the student's actual work is immaterial. (I could work up a pretty good "pissed off" about that, but, enh, not worth the energy.) At least two students in the class will fall under the "mercy D" category--but they left knowing they can at least graduate; I figure just the fact that they stuck it out to the bitter end and turned in a final paper deserves that much (or little).

In the short story class, we talked more about what might help future students in terms of the structure and language used for assignments--and I ran the ideas past the students in 102 as well. There was, of course, some debate about whether various reconfigurations would be helpful--and the students recognized, as do I, that sometimes they simply have to wrestle with misunderstandings and make mistakes in order to come to comprehension. (Learning often requires a long period of frustration and the "I don't get its" before one has the "ah-hah!" moment.) So, yes, I'm already projecting into next semester, in the perpetual search for that Holy Grail that turns all students, without exception, into engaged, productive, active learners. I know the beast is mythical (to mix a metaphor), but I can't stop myself from searching for it, no matter what dismal swamps I find myself lost in along the way.

But at the moment I am, as a colleague noted, almost giddy with the fact that I'm so close to utterly finished with this semester. There's some nit-picky paperwork I will also have to tend to, once I've got absolutely everything marked and numbers all crunched, but I'm all but capering about with delighted anticipation of being done done done.