The gloves are off--well, mostly

It was one of those days when I was relatively fierce about the rules. Two students had not submitted their papers before the deadline yesterday--and I told them that 20% of their final grade is now a zero. One of them very cheerfully said "OK." I suggested she consider withdrawing, though I wouldn't throw her out of the class, and she said, "OK." OK then. I'll be interested to see if she decides to stick it out or bails. She's also missed a number of classes and has submitted almost no work of any kind, so she's better off withdrawing--but it's her call.

The other student in that position has been making excuses and asking for exceptions all semester, and he tried to pull the "I was sick" and "I'm really sorry" cards--and I wasn't taking either one. Yes, I know you were sick and that's why your paper wasn't in class on Tuesday, but that's why I gave everyone until yesterday: why wasn't it there yesterday? And if you were having a problem, why didn't you contact me about it, instead of simply assuming that the deadline didn't matter? He uploaded his paper today--sorry, buddy, too late--and he didn't have a printed copy at all. He whined and squirmed and begged, and I was implacable. "I know you're sorry. So am I. But the deadline passed. You've just learned a painful lesson that deadlines are real." He didn't come back to class; I suspect he'll withdraw. He should: not only did he not turn in his paper, I have received no work from him to date. He told me he had all his logs and everything--but I said sorry, too late. I am not going to spend my time playing catch up because you can't meet deadlines.

I think I mentioned yesterday my difficulty deciding what to do with the student who did upload her paper to TurnItIn on time but didn't get a printed copy to me. She sent me an e-mail--20 minutes before class began--saying she had the printed copy with her and was that OK. I didn't get her e-mail until after class, so as I lectured her in the hall, I said she should have contacted me earlier about getting the printed copy to me. I will have to disabuse her of the notion that "I had to work" does not excuse her from deadlines for my class, but the whole lock-down thing did put a wrinkle in the situation. With that in mind, I decided I'd take the printed copy, provide feedback--but she only gets one day to revise: I told her she can pick it up for my comments Monday after 10 a.m.

She acts like a good student, but reading her paper, I realize that although there may be ways in which she is good, she can't write a college-level paper to save her life. I've seen worse train-wrecks, but it is pretty much a tossed together mess. Well, she'll either be able to salvage it in revision or she won't.

I will say, all the students in 102 were absolutely pole-axed by their "grades": the indication of what the paper would receive if what they'd submitted were the final version. They were relieved as hell when they finally understood that those grades don't "count": all that matters is the final product (and their engagement with the revision process). But it was like looking at a room full of people who'd just been tazered. I got pretty fierce when they were asking "Did anyone get a B? Did anyone get an A?" I honestly don't remember if anyone got a B--I think there was at least a B- in there somewhere--but an A? Nope. I drew the bell curve on the board for them: "Most of you should be right here," I said, firmly drawing the lines on either side of the top of the curve--showing that that part lands right on the C. "A C is for average work. You're used to grade inflation; you're used to average work getting a B. It doesn't. An A is for excellence: not just good, excellent." Smack, smack with the 2x4 against their minds. "This isn't high school. This isn't 'just' community college. You're getting an Ivy League quality education in this room. And all of you can do that." Oooo, a challenge. The gauntlet is down.

A lot of them were saying, "This is hard!" I confirmed that they were right about that. Damned straight: it's the hardest part of writing. If you feel like you are about to bleed out your ears, you're on the right track. It's supposed to be hard.
So, we'll see where they are on Tuesday, when version two is due.

The Mystery class was fun (of course)--even though I tossed out four or five people who were there without books, without having done the reading. No book? No notes? OK, see you next class. One student who has been absent as often as present and hasn't been turning in much of anything said he thought he'd withdraw; I said I thought that was a good idea. It was a pleasant enough exchange--no hard feelings on either side, I don't think (certainly not on mine)--but yes, he's right, he should go. Another student came to see me after class: his work has been sketchy at best and he's also had problems with attendance--but he swears he's got a handle on work plus job now, so OK. Keep on fighting the good fight. I will be surprised if he pulls through, but I've been surprised before. Earlier in the semester, I didn't think the lights were on there at all, but in our little talk after class, there was certainly an awake mind behind those eyes. Good. I hope he does make it; I love surprises (well, the nice ones).

Even more pleasant was that several students finally, finally, finally have the hang of what they need to record in their notes. O, hallelujah.

I also feel pretty well caught up. There are a handful of assignments I need to mark for both 102 and Mystery, but I'm pretty sure I can knock those off on Monday--though if they spill over into Tuesday, no problem; I'll only be collecting some notes from the Fiction Writing students, and those are a breeze. That means that I can spend this weekend either working on the book review I need to write (maybe I'll even finish the book) or working on the sabbatical application--or both. Everything else--scheduling adjunct observations, looking at Taskstream, whatever else on my list of tasks--can wait until next week. It's still light out, and I, my friends and faithful readers, am going home.