Whew!

It was a bit of a mad dash at the end there, and I did have to rush a couple of students through their visits during my office hours, but I got the proposals and reading journals marked and back to the students today. Whew, and other exclamations of relief and collapse. We also had a pretty good discussion about the end of the novel, after which I was able to go around the room and help everyone get a handle on revising their proposals.

Two students from the M/W 102 were among those I hustled in and out of my office relatively expeditiously today. One was struggling to get to a thesis, and he may still not quite be there, though by the end of class on Monday (if not before), he'll be able to come up with something good enough. The other is poised to get an A, if she keeps on as she's going now: she had the ideas; she just hadn't pulled them together into a coherent claim yet. She had written a revised thesis, but on her walk over to my office, she had an even better thought--and that's what she's going to turn into her revision. It's a great idea: if she follows through on it fully, it will work beautifully.

But I'm hedging there, aware of the possibilities for a derailment. By now I should know that whenever I am confident that a student will nail a proposal (or a paper), I'm likely to be wrong: often the students I'm most sure will do beautifully in fact don't. Case in point, the Bright Young Man. He was brave enough to tackle the loyalty and betrayal theme, but he engaged in a process simply of proving that instances of loyalty and betrayal exist in the novel, rather than making a claim regarding what Le Guin is saying about loyalty and betrayal. He'd written a sort of mini-paper (good plan), but essentially he was left merely summarizing events, rather than producing analysis. After class, he followed me over to the Advisement Center, talking about it--and realized that he'd pretty much missed what was going on with the theme anyway. He's still going to go with it (again, a good plan), but he's feeling a bit like a fraud at the moment, as he truly hadn't seen what he needed to see in order to do the topic. But he's on track now, and I'm confident he'll do fine with his revision.

The young woman who was in my office on Tuesday did the best job of coming up with a thesis. In fact, her proposal was the best across the board: her only downfall was that she wasn't specific about the value of the quotations she intends to use from her critical source. She should be proud.

By contrast, one student was on the verge of tears in the class today: in fact, as she and I were talking about what she needed to do to revise her proposal, she was so panic-stricken that she was struggling not to give way entirely. I suggested she step outside and let herself have the moment of panic, then come back. She did, and I think she now sees what her claim actually is. She had a good idea, but she was using a point that would belong in a body paragraph as if it were her overall claim: I had to lift her out of that and into something that would fly--but I think (hope) she'll do fine, now that we talked it over.

I'm expecting a barrage of e-mails over the weekend, as students frantically revise. It does break my heart when they are so stressed that they verge on tears--or, on occasion, actually cry. It is literally awesome how much so many of them invest in their course work. They are highly ego involved: they view their grades as significant indicators of who they are as people. I tend to forget that aspect of it all: I'm so locked into the struggle to impart what Paul calls the habits of mind that I forget that the students don't see what we're doing as merely an intellectual exercise. And they're right. It isn't just an intellectual exercise--but what is being said about them as human beings does not reside in their grades, as they believe. Rather, it lies in how they manage the difficult tasks, whether they improve, by how much, and in what areas. Grades don't measure that very adequately--but those intangibles are the real purpose and value of education.

It's such a delicate balance, between making sure they get where they need to be in terms of that intellectual journey and bolstering their emotional states as human beings: providing support and encouragement while maintaining standards. I expect I will perpetually veer between utter conviction that my standards are appropriate and profound concern that I am overly demanding--at least for the time and place in which I find myself. The zeitgeist says I'm way the hell off base, but I fight that ghost with bulldog tenacity. I'm engaged in a rear-guard action, I know, but I refuse to surrender, as long as I still have the energy and mental acumen to continue the battle.

And I certainly identify with the panic and pressure my students are going through. I'm not panicked myself, at the moment, but I can tell this is going to be one of those days, weeks, that is hard to let go. Talk about my bulldog tendencies: I tend to sink my teeth into a day or week (or longer), and even when it's time to back off, relax, do something else so the batteries can recharge, I keep my jaws locked on the work, either by fretting or by engaging in tangential activities that accomplish very little, though they "feel" somewhat useful--or that are a pretense at relaxation without actually being very relaxing. The inclination to putter (or noodle) is hard to avoid; even thinking about letting go entirely can bring on waves of anxiety. "I can't relax! I have too much to do!" And yet, if I don't let go, I'll become increasingly inefficient and ineffective. Yeesh. Times like this, when I contemplate the enormous mounds of stuff still to be done, render even the blogging an insufficient form of decompression. What's a girl to do? My usual response is to find something mindless to read (or watch) and to eat equally mindlessly. Books (or DVDs) and food: my narcotics of choice. I'm not sure which I may indulge in tonight, but I do know I need to get out of this room if I'm to have any chance of prying those bulldog teeth loose.

"Let go!" (grrrrrrrr.) "Let GO." (grrrrrrrr.) "Bad dog! LET GO!!" (grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.)