I hate to do it...

...but I've canceled the Native American Lit class tomorrow. I tried to get the revised papers for the 102s graded over the weekend, and I did at least make a start--but not much of one. I got a little done between that 8 a.m. observation (ugh) and Advisement at 10:30, and a teeny bit more after class, but that 5 a.m. alarm has turned my brains to jello, so no more grading tonight. I was going to bail on the entire day tomorrow, but I need to come in to start summer scheduling with Bruce, then he and I are meeting with a problematic adjunct--but I'm going to bail on P&B and class. I have an appointment at 4:30, too, dammit, though I'm thinking about canceling. I simply can't count on getting anything done at Advisement any more: it's not a madhouse, but the stream of students is constant, so though I can snatch a moment here and there, it's not enough to count on being able to knock of any substantial amount of work. And I'm just plain running out of hours in which I will be anything approaching functional. I know I could return the papers next week--and even with all the cancellations, I may not get them all done before Wednesday--but if I can even leave them on my office door on Thursday for the students to pick up, at least they'll be out of my hair, which is the main thing.

The library research classes went pretty well today. The students seemed to be engaged in doing the research--though, as always, a number of them do not understand the assignment. Students keep asking me, "What am I supposed to do?" I don't want them to fall into the trap of writing all about our society (which they desperately want to do), but it's hard to get them to understand that by analyzing the radically different society in The Left Hand of Darkness, ultimately they will be able to infer something about our society. Well, this is part of why we do sequential drafts of the paper: so I can steer them away from the stuff they should not be doing and (I hope) into the stuff they should.

Oh, and Mr. Argumentative--the young man who was telling me that I needed to "help" him by handing him the definition of an English word (as the latest instance of his mishigas)--started in on it again today, bitching about the glossary assignments. It was the end of class, and he was on his way out the door, so I hit one volley back to him, but when he wanted to keep up the volleying, I said, "Get out of here." I was pleasant about it--but I meant it, too.

I'm on the fence about whether I want to bring him in and talk to him about this behavior. Part of me does--partly to get him to knock it off in my class but mostly because it will not serve him well in the future, and I'd rather he learn that (somewhat) gently from me than get strung up for it by some future professor. It's strange to know that I'm not as fierce as some would be, but I do know damned well that at a lot of four-year schools, he'd be out on his fucking ear if he were to pull that kind of shit--even once, never mind repeatedly.

But another part of me doesn't want to put in the effort. Quite honestly, I don't have enough fondness for the kid to be willing to put any additional time or energy into teaching him doodly-squat. He will learn; it doesn't need to be from me.

On a much more pleasant note, I met with Mr. Confused from the Native American Lit course, and he is, I am very relieved to say, no longer confused. I'm still pointing out things he can do to make his writing better, but at least he now can tell primary sources from criticism--and knows where to put his focus. He is highly intelligent, and very respectful, and willing to work fucking hard to get results. And he's getting them. Today's meeting was to discuss a third go-round on his first paper: he revised once, to focus on the literature (instead of the critical material)--but in his revision he didn't use any critical material, and doing so was a requirement. So he's going to take some of the work he did on the first version, in which he went into depth about the critical sources, and apply it to his analysis of the literature. I'm actually looking forward to reading this third go-round. I've also asked him to re-do his logs for Ceremony. He's been struggling with a confusion over page numbers (he has a different edition from the rest of us) and probably has not been able to keep up with the reading--but he's far too good a student to give D's and F's to on logs, when I know he could get much better grades.

The coolest thing was that he told me he was very grateful that I'm insisting that he write within the specific parameters of academic writing. He's never had to before, he says, and he's happy that he's finally learning how. He wasn't gushy about it, either: he expressed his gratitude in a very matter-of-fact tone, but also clearly with sincerity. That, I'll take. It means a lot to me.

And I think I'll close on that note. Technically, I still have 10 whole minutes of my evening office hour to go--but honestly, I wasn't sure I'd make it this far, so I'm going to steal away into the beautiful light of the almost-setting sun.