Pulling teeth

I admit, freely, that I'm still recovering from a respiratory flu that I had over the break, so I'm no doubt unduly tired and cranky, but today's class was very hard. Kayla thought it went pretty well, but the students felt dull and flat and lifeless to me, and it was not quite but almost painful. They were working on the first poem of the semester, and honestly, in some regards, they did well: they did better than usual in terms of staying grounded in the specific words of the text instead of springing off into wild (and unfounded) interpretations right away. But I feel an enormous resistance from them about this work, and it's going to be hard to deal with.

Two students hadn't bothered to pick up their marked first versions of the papers that were due in final revised form today. I spoke to them after class, saying I was unsure what kind of revision they were capable of without feedback from me. The option was, keep the paper, rework it taking my comments into consideration, and take a late penalty--or simply accept the (no doubt painful) consequences of having worked without my comments. One of them didn't have his final version ready anyway, so he's going to work to respond to my comments. The other--who truly does have a chip on her shoulder the size of Alaska--opted just to take her lumps. OK. Kayla and I took a quick look at her paper, and I can tell you right now, without having to read it in detail, it doesn't pass.

And one student showed up today having missed the entire paper process. She wanted to know if she could turn in just the last one (no), or do all three versions on her own (too late)--and she was shocked, totally shocked, that 15% of her final grade is now a zero, even though the grade weights are very clearly stated in at least two different places. She wanted to know what the effect would be on her final grade. Answer: "Well, if you earn a 90 with all your other work, the best grade you could get is a 75." Shocked, I tell you! Jaw agape and shocked! We talked about it some, and I told her to stay in the class and do her absolute best work all the way to the end of the semester, at which point we can discuss her final grade. Privately, I'm holding in reserve the option of an incomplete--though we know what debacles those usually are. But equally privately, I'm not sanguine that she'll stay on top of everything well enough to earn the chance. It will be interesting to see what happens.

After observing me talk to the students, Kayla said, "You've gotten nice." Oh, it's early days yet. I'll get mean, trust me.

Sidebar: I do not, repeat do NOT, want to read their papers. I know I need to, but I truly do need to be stronger to face that.

I had a similarly difficult experience in Nature in Lit this morning. Two of the more lively students were not there, and of the ones who were there, only one had done even part of the reading. I talked to them rather gently about coming to class prepared--I don't want to scare them off--but on Thursday, if the whole group is there, I need to get severe. As in, "Do you need me to start throwing you out of class and refusing to allow you to make up work so you will take this seriously? I don't want to, but if you need me to, I will."

I also am being driven mad by the promotion folders, like being plagued by gnats. I truly should look over the folders for my three mentees, one last time, but I am irritated in the extreme--especially by their questions about where to put things and the stuff they want to include that is overkill. At this point, I'm half tempted to say, "It's your promotion. I've already given you my feedback. Do what you want with it; I have no further input. It's on you now." But I kind of can't: I do have a certain obligation here, and they're not in the least wrong to be concerned to get everything right, nor are they wrong to want the benefit of my feedback, as I have more experience with these things than they do. My irritation is not rational, but that makes it no less present and grating.

Sidebar #2: I'm not looking forward to the advent of daylight savings time. It's true that it's nice to have it still be light as I'm finishing my day (if I finish early enough), but I like the fact that it gets light pretty quickly even on my early morning alarm days. It's nice not to have to spend all morning under electric lights--but once we change the clocks, I'll be back to pitch darkness for most of my morning routine. Bummer

I had intended to get out of here pretty early tonight, but Kayla and I got talking--and it was a lovely conversation, about a great deal more than simply work. I enjoyed it so much I let it go on longer than I should have, and now it's dark and my voice is shot--and even though I know I'm tired, I'm going to have a hard time letting go of the day to wind down for sleep. Lots on the agenda tomorrow, too: a meeting (which may be somewhat torturous but I hope will be somewhat brief), organizing stuff, starting to grade those wretched papers maybe.... So, I need to get the flock out of here. Off I go.