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THINGS HAVE CHANGED:

Since I am no longer a professor in the classroom, this blog is changing focus. (I may at some future date change platforms, too, but not yet). I am now (as of May 2019) playing around with the idea of using this blog as a place to talk about the struggles of writing creatively. Those of you who have been following (or dipping in periodically) know that I've already been doing a little of that, but now the change is official. I don't write every day--yet--so I won't post to the blog every day--yet. But please do check in from time to time, if you're interested in this new phase in my life.


Hi! And you are...?

I am interested to see the fluctuation in my readers--but I don't know who is reading the blog, how you found it, and why you find it interesting. I'd love to hear from you! Please feel free to use the "comment" box at the end of any particular post to let me know what brought you to this page--and what keeps you coming back for more (if you do).





Monday, September 10, 2012

working out the kinks

My first test of the PowerPoint presentation on how to read analytically and produce an idea log was a mixed success. The presentation is too long (that's easy enough: I just skipped slides)--and it's hard for the students when I ask for responses from the class as a whole, but I haven't yet figured out how to start with group work. It also took me a while to figure out how to explain to them what I wanted them to understand: a lot of them thought I wanted to see whether they had interpreted the story the same way I did, which is emphatically not the point. I told them I wanted them to compare their kind of response with mine--but it was hard for them to see past the fact that my responses were long, and theirs (generally) were not. Finally I found the language that seemed to work: "Are you observing or are you interpreting? Are you summarizing or are you analyzing?" Then they started to see it--and most realized that they had done a little of bot but tending more toward the first side of the equations. They're still not entirely sure about observation versus interpretation (admittedly conceptually difficult and abstract), but I asked them what they thought about the exercise, whether I should keep it for future classes or not--they said they thought they understood better what I am looking for after going through the exercise. Also gut. (Auf Deutsch, y'all.)

I've only had a chance to look at a couple of the logs, but I'm not unhappy--so far. There will surely be the usual lunks (I've already encountered one) and lost souls, but at least a few seem to have some kind of grasp of what's needed. The story was a hit, too: I told them that thematically it doesn't fit with anything else we'll read--I wanted something that would be outside the framework of the rest of the class as their experimental material--but it's got a lot going on for such a short story (Emma Straub's "Orient Point"--which also has the advantage of being set on Long Island). I'm not sure yet, but I think the most important part of my presentation may have been at the end, when I showed them how I would move from the ideas in my log to a working thesis for a paper. One of the challenges has always been to get them to see that the logs (by whatever name) are a tool to help them with their papers, therefore worth some extra effort. Perhaps the presentation helped.

In any event, I'm sure I'll be stewing about it overnight, looking for ways I might adjust for the comp classes tomorrow. I'll be particularly interested to see how they respond to the whole exercise. The Short Story students have had at least a 102 class before entering the literature course, possibly also another lit course, whereas many of the students in 102 have only had the high school experience of literature, and, depending on the high school, that experience may have been radically different from what I want. All interesting. I love these experiments.

Today was the last day for students to add classes, so there was a steady stream in Advisement--but not the mad panic I was braced for. I keep putting the responsibility for their choices back into their laps. I'll show them the (often large) ballparks in which their choices can profitably be made, but when it comes time to actually make the decisions, it's up to them--and they have to go away and do the actual choosing somewhere else. However, as I noticed last week, once I show them the ropes and provide a little reassurance, they're happy enough to toddle off and fight with Banner on their own.

And indeed, as this period is coming to a close, there has been some movement in my 102 classes: a few withdrawals and a few adds--so some students will be brand new tomorrow. I never know whether to consider the class meetings when they were not registered as absences or whether to give them a pass. I do tell them that they need to be very careful about absences: technically they still have three, but since they're already behind, it's in their best interest to act as if they only have one. I'd be more fierce about it, except I know that a at least a few are adding the class late not because of their own laxity but because the financial aid office screwed up. (I'm even more certain that financial aid does legitimately screw up as of today; I heard one of the professional advisers talking about the fact that a significant number of book vouchers either were sent to students who shouldn't get them or weren't sent to students who should....) All in all, I'll be happy when no one else can turn up new; it's rough on them to be thrown into the deep end, and it's disruptive to everyone else to have to deal with someone who has no clue what's going on.

And now the attrition can begin.

I'm here later than I intended today. Usually I will be here late on Mondays, as this will be one of my evening office hour nights, but office hours haven't started yet, so I'd intended to get out early. Instead, I had a grand time talking with Paul. This was the first one-on-one conversation we've had when both of us had no time pressure but could just talk. The conversation ranged from family stuff to professional concerns: we're both weighing whether it's worth the push to get that last promotion, to full professor. I am not sure I want to do the work I'd have to do to have a shot at it, but I confess, part of me wants the title just to have the title. As Paul said, if I don't, I'll feel like the possibility is perpetually hanging over my head--along with the question of why I didn't go for it. But I've seen the promotion folders of people who've gone up for full--and of one who went for it and didn't get it her first try--and they are dauntingly huge. The promotion requires "recognized distinction in one's field," and even though people who study Le Guin know my work, I haven't published much at all since I got the promotion to associate--and that's all that matters. "What have you done lately?" But Paul and I will talk more about this, and about where we might have publishing possibilities. Then there's the matter of actually writing something and getting the fucker published. Growf, rowr, bazz-fazz.

But I'm certainly not going to do anything about that tonight. I'm going to the grocery store, then home to turn my brains off until tomorrow. Nice to know I won't need them tonight.

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