Notice about Cookies (for European readers)

I have been informed that I need to say something about how this site uses Cookies and possibly get the permission of my European readers about the use of Cookies. I'll be honest: I have no idea how the cookies on this site work. Here (I hope) are links to the pertinent information:

Google's Privacy practices: https://policies.google.com/privacy?hl=en&gl=us

How Google uses information from sites or apps that use their services:

https://policies.google.com/technologies/partner-sites





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, April 1, 2013

Strapping on that helmet

Interesting return to the fray today, a bit like being shot out of a cannon. After nine days of avoiding thinking about work as much as possible, this morning was a crash course in returning to the usual mad dash. Things in Advisement are starting to pick up--a good thing, as I'd carefully forgotten to bring with me any of the work that needs to be marked. I did some noodling around on work-ish related thingies in Advisement, but it was good to have some clients, as it were. I spent a lot longer than need be with one young woman, but no one was waiting about, clawing at the furniture in frustration, waiting to be advised, and she was enormously grateful, which is gratifying. Another poor young woman came in, trembling and fighting tears: she's in a horrific personal situation and needs to leave for another state right now, but she was worried about screwing up any chance to return to school. I reassured her, told her what to do to get an administrative withdrawal (which essentially expunges from the record the fact that she even attempted the semester)--and assured her that school will still be here when her life calms down and she's able to return to it. She, too, was deeply grateful, and felt comforted. I felt terrible for her, truly. God, these young people have such hellish lives sometimes. One of my 102 students may have to withdraw because, as he said, his father "is an asshole," and since his parents divorced, my student has to work three jobs to help his mom out financially--on top of trying to go to school full time. I told him I'll work with him if he decides to stay in the class but that I'll also understand if he just can't do it and stay sane and healthy. I hope he can stick it out, but honestly, I'd be surprised: I bet he has to bail, which would be a real shame.

But classes were fine. Of course, a number of  students didn't even try to read the novel, but I let them stay and get what they could out of the discussion anyway. For one thing, I want them to feel they have a handle on what's happening, so they have some assurance that they can get through the book. For another, the hope is always that when they hear classmates talking about the book, they'll get curious and start reading. In fact, in the first section, one young woman said, "I feel kind of cheated that I didn't read all this before we started talking about it...." "Yeah, well," I said, and left it at that. I told them to remember that most of the book--the actual sentences--are just English. They may be describing a weird culture, but it's completely readable; they're making it more difficult than it is, freaking themselves out when they don't need to. I don't know if that will help, but I'm hoping so.

In the second class, one of the students has fallen completely in love with the book. He's got a lot of overall potential but so far hasn't done very well in terms of his papers--or the reading. I'm not sure what kind of grade he'll get in the class even now, but it's cool to have him lighting up all over the place about the book. We read one passage which I particularly love, and, before reading it, I said, "By the way, this is simply gorgeous writing. I don't often remember to point out when the writing is beautiful, but this is a passage that is absolutely fabulous use of language. It's one of my favorites in the book," and this young man was nodding madly at another student, as if to say, "She's right; really. It is beautiful." The other student apparently looked dubious at best, but it's lovely that she was getting the "yes, it's great" message from another student, not from me.

The passage in question, by the way, is when Genly Ai is telling the king of Karhide why he (Genly) is there as an Envoy of the Ekumen. The king asks Genly what the Ekumen is looking for, and Genly replies, "Material profit. Increase of knowledge. The augmentation of the complexity and intensity of the field of intelligent life. The enrichment of harmony and the greater glory of God. Curiosity. Adventure. Delight."

Ahhhhh.

In any event, classes over, I returned to the office and graded everything I need to return to the Native American Lit students tomorrow, which was good to get done (that's what I would have done in Advisement, so the fact that I got it all done anyway is a relief). Then I spent some time writing up ideas for the project Paul and I are working on. I have a handful of logs and glossaries to mark for Wednesday's classes, and if the spirit moves me and time permits, in the next few days, I'll start working through the final versions of the second essay for the 102 classes. I have a strong feeling I'm forgetting something of crucial importance--and I almost certainly am--but it will just have to slap me in the face like a stepped-on lawn rake, as I can't remember doodly-squat right now. That wall came up in a big hurry just now. I gotta get out of this place.

No comments:

Post a Comment