Everything but papers...

I bailed on my Advisement time today (cough, cough, wheeze, snort, I'm too sick to come in): I realized I could clear a lot of the underbrush by taking those hours and applying them to committee crapola. And damn, it feels good. Of course, I'm pointedly ignoring a steaming pile of essays from the 102 students that I have not begun to mark, as well as random scattering of (pretty crappy) idea logs and glossaries--but I got the letter written for the sabbatical application I'm mentoring (the application is a mess, but the letter is done); I looked at most of the rest of the applications and took notes (and will have a chance to look at the rest tomorrow before P&B); I wrote up the observation from last week; and I just finished doing some additions to the work-load rationale we're putting together to help the union in contract negotiations, which will get very hot very soon. (The contract expires next August, but the administration already started the battle by suggesting they were going to require that we essentially punch a time clock, sitting in our offices for a 40-hour work week. You can imagine the hooting and cat-calling--and suggestions that if they pay us for overtime, that might not be a bad deal, as most of us routinely work more than 40 hours a week, albeit not necessarily in our offices.)

In any event, that's all out from under my feet now, and it's remarkable how much easier the load feels. I do worry a little about what may have fallen through the floorboards (there must be something major I'm forgetting; I must be heading toward an "Oh shit!" moment)--but not too much. The main thing for now is to take a look at what's still on the desk, including those student assignments, and determine whether I can get more done today or if I'm going to pull a Scarlett O'Hara.

I've lost a few more students from the Short Story class. One needed to go a long time ago; it's good he finally recognized it. One could have been a good student, but she never did the work she needed to do (she hasn't officially withdrawn yet, but when we talked last week, I got a strong feeling that was where she was heading). Most of the rest are hanging in--bitching about their paper grades, but I'm not fussing about that. I can't help it if they aren't smart enough to figure out that if they are unhappy with their grades, they need to see me to figure out what to do differently, and more than once if necessary.

But the main thing that struck me today is how differently classes will respond to the same reading. In past semesters, the Le Guin short story I'm teaching, "Malheur County," has been a bust: students couldn't get it at all. Today, at least one young woman got it just right: beautiful. But also in the past, students have loved Tess Gallagher's "The Lover of Horses"--and this time, no one got it, and most of them hated it. (A connection between those two things perhaps?) We didn't really finish talking about it today, so we'll see what I can pull out of them on Wednesday. Maybe we need to start with the final paragraph (which is pretty powerful) and work backward. I do wish I could get them to stop thinking in cliches, but maybe that's just too much to ask.

I've just had a very nice chat with Paul about everything from sleep to food to students--and even though it's relatively early, I'm done. I will at least put the piles of crap on my desk into some kind of order before I go, but that's as far as I can manage. Scarlett O'Hara time. And again--this is becoming all too frequent--I'm going to toss this up on the blog with out re-reading so much as a syllable.