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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).





Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Aaaaaaaaaaah!!!

I feel like I'm being chased by a pack of rabid chihuahuas. It seems everywhere I turn, someone wants me to handle something, or there is some piece of business I have to attend to, or (most pressingly), I have huge, steaming piles of student shit to shovel through that must be marked immediately if not sooner.

I did get all the first versions marked for the Short Story class (whew), and tomorrow we're not going to talk about the last story I assigned unless we have time after we work on their papers some more. The most common problem is that the students try to compare two stories that are wildly dissimilar: for instance, both stories contain the word "God"; therefore they can be put together. Consequently, their "thesis statements" are so enormous as to be essentially meaningless--along the lines of my old favorite, "Many people feel the same and differently about many things." The attempt to stretch the evidence from the stories to cover the huge space they've staked out is painful to observe. (At least my students in 102 are spared that, having only to write about the novel.) This does make me think that perhaps I need to suggest pairs/themes--even if only very broadly. Students here, at this level, may just not yet be equipped to find good fits on their own. (And they give me fits in the process.) After all, in my other lit courses, I do provide more scaffolding in terms of parameters, choices; next time I teach the Short Story class, I need to rethink the essay structure.

Today's students were pounding their heads against the second versions of their papers. Would Be Wonder Student showed up today--and reminded me that I had suggested they could simply scrap their first versions, since so many realized in class that what they'd come up with was not going to fly. He missed an important decision that I made after I said that, which was that I would, in fact, collect their papers and give feedback, but I'm going to give him a break over the confusion--and he'll just get the same grade for versions one and two, and only get my feedback once before he has to produce the final. I'm glad I didn't lose him entirely--but I still need to talk to him about the incomplete, as he's rather falling down on the arrangement.

But as I said in both classes, I'm getting tired of policing shit. Hand in whatever. If you don't have it today, get it to me next class. Or the next one. Don't put it off much longer, or I won't be able to grade it in time for it to count. Yeah, fuck, whatever. Don't bother me with the begging about wanting more time, the excuses about crap quality, any of that. Hand the stuff in and go away.

I was about ready to remove Poor Dear Thing's head today. In her self-denigrating panic and confusion, she tends to get so caught up in her excuses and worries and "I can't" statements that she interrupts me and won't listen to what I say. I finally snapped--only a little, but after about the fourth time she interrupted me I did say, "God dammit, stop. I'm serious." I'm about at the point where I'm going to say, "Clearly you have no interest in what I have to say, as you perpetually interrupt, so I'm not going to respond any more. I will answer no more questions and provide no further help. Period." Of course I doubt I could stick to it, but her behavior is seriously getting on my nerves. The maddening thing is, she actually has a few good ideas; she just can't recognize them as good ideas, even when I tell her they are. She insists, "I don't know how to say it"--or, even more irritating, "I have an idea, but you don't understand me." "Clearly, then, the problem is in the expression of the idea, so you need to write it over and over, as many different ways as you can think of, until finally you feel like you've expressed it clearly. And because you are still a student, you then run it by me and see if I agree it's clear. If I don't, then you go back to the writing board (as it were). That's the process. It's not just you; it's anyone, everyone. That's how writing works."

Fuck. Well, whatever.

I realized with a sinking feeling that we have an assessment meeting tomorrow morning--time I had, of course, counted on for paper grading. And my Thursday morning is going to be eaten up as well: I am seeing a student at 10 (assuming he shows up: I'll double check with him tomorrow), and then I have to make up time in Advisement--and the Would Be Wonder Student has already said he wants to come to my office hour--and I should start work on the schedules with Bruce, but that just ain't gonna happen this week. But with all the other bites taken out of my time, when, you ask, will I mark all the second versions for the 102s, never mind the make-up logs and glossaries? Good question. I wish I had an answer. The only thing I know for certain is that no more of it will happen tonight. I'd push the make-up time in Advisement to next week--but I have a zillion appointments and meetings next week, too. Fuuuuck.

Well, whatever. Somehow it will all come out all right. ("How will it?" "I don't know; it's a mystery." Thank you, Tom Stoppard.)

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