Mixed bag

Had a full house for Nature in Lit today. Some of the students who weren't there the first day may not make it to the end of the semester--even with my stated desire to be as flexible as possible. I still have pretty strict standards about actual learning, and I'm not sure they have the reading (never mind writing) chops to make it through. But we'll see. I may end up shelving a class (or two) to have individual conferences with them, just to give them every possible chance to succeed.

Despite my concern over a few of them, the class went pretty well: some good comments and questions, interesting responses to the readings. The first readings are tough, I think (Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation and Smith's Description of Virginia): the archaic language is unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable, and both men tend to pound their points into the ground (so to speak). But I find that, as the semester progresses, it helps to have been reminded where we began in our relationships to this continent. I spent a fair amount of time today scrounging around to find additional readings, should we need them, for this week and next. It'll be interesting to see how things go when they have done the reading on their own and have completed journals/logs to refer to for the discussion.

By contrast, I had fewer students in Native American Lit: one was there who hadn't been in class last time, but we were missing several who had been there on Tuesday. Still, the discussion was great, if a little tentative at first (other than the Guinea Pig, who needs to be suppressed). Only one student remained silent for the entire discussion; everyone else at least said one thing--though of course a couple of voices were dominant. I'm definitely going to have to be on my toes: the Guinea Pig got an Eagle Scout merit badge in Native American Culture (I feel more than a little concern about the validity of the information that was conveyed, but I need to know what I'm talking about to confirm or counter what he thinks he knows), and another student obviously knows something about Native cultures--from whence, I know not, but it's cool that she does. It may be a class in which I have to confess my relative ignorance on more occasions than usual--but that's generally a good experience.

And next week, there will be a brand new student in 102. Someone dropped (or was dropped) and the seat was immediately snapped up by one of those poor, frantic students desperately looking for a full schedule (or a preferable professor--which may backfire on the poor kid). I sent him/her (?can't tell from the first name) an e-mail with the syllabus, information about the reader, the reading journal form, the self-evaluation assignment: I'm hoping she/he gets it all and that it all makes sense--and if not, that the student has the good sense to contact me and get clarification. I imagine the student being utterly overwhelmed (assuming he/she does get the e-mail), but on the other hand, at least the student has a shot at coming in on Monday ready to go, instead of completely at sea.

But I'm saving the best, most interesting piece of news for last. I just checked my e-mail, and there was a message from a former student: she took Native American Lit from me last spring. I was expecting either one of those charming "I just wanted to say hello" messages (similar to what I got recently on Facebook from a student who was in Nature in Lit the last time I taught it--three years ago)--or maybe a request for a letter of recommendation. I have to quote her e-mail, as I found it astonishing, and moving, and very exciting. After telling me how well she's doing at her new university and her plans to go to graduate school to pursue a career as an English professor, she wrote the following:

I have a proposition for you. I cannot express in words how influential you've been in my development as a student. You have prepared me immensely for my senior thesis. I have continued doing your reading journals for all of my classes because they are an effective form of note taking. I have learned so much from you as your student and I was hoping I could learn from you further because you are the kind of professor that I aspire to be. I have Wednesdays off this semester so if you're teaching any classes on Wednesdays I was wondering if you would allow me to be an observer or an assistant for you. Of course, you would dictate the terms - I could come every week or once in a while, I would just love the opportunity to pick your brain and learn from you. I will not be offended if you say no, I understand you have enough on your plate without having to bear an apprentice, but if you would consider my proposition I would truly appreciate it.

I am, of course, going to give her an enthusiastic yes--if she doesn't mind coming to a 102 class (which is the only thing I teach on Wednesdays). I'm not sure how we'll work out her apprenticeship: certainly she can observe, but I don't want to use her for scut work--nor to grade papers--so I'm not sure how she might assist me. But I'll be delighted to meet with her and talk it out. And I am honored, profoundly touched, that she feels she learned so much from me, my methods, my class. Any time I think about wanting to give up teaching altogether, I'll have to remember this.

And I think that's a good note to end the week on. There is a fair amount of school stuff hovering over my head as I head into the weekend, but the next three days are going to be all about my article, getting it done and submitted and out of my hair. I anticipate needing all three days to do it, but I'll take a little work home, just in case I get the article done more quickly and easily than I anticipate and still have time--and energy and enthusiasm--left over. I leave with the sweet taste of recognition in my mouth.