The Dreaded Red Pen

I didn't use red pen to mark the first versions of the student papers from the 102 class--and I'm not entirely sure why I decided to revert to it for this version. I don't want to scare the students out of their wits, and I know seeing all the red does create the atavistic fear response--even when the comments are positive. But I've committed to it for this round. I'll ask them about it for the second paper. If they think it's easier to stomach the feedback when it's in some other, less petrifying color, I'm happy to find something else. I'm getting tired of dark blue (and I go through those gel pens astonishingly quickly; I'm using refillable pens (environmentally sanctimonious me), but even so). Black doesn't show up well enough. The students use purple and green for their class additions to their logs, so I want to reserve those colors for them. Orange and pink are too hard to read. Hmmmm. Turquoise? Options are limited. Maybe blue gel pen with a broad point simply wins by default.

More problematic, however, is that I've also fallen back into the old habit of marking everything. I am saved a little time by having the rubric for editorial stuff, which not only says what the problem is but also frequently refers the student to the pages in the handbook that address that problem. But I'm doing too much, and I know it. True, they genuinely have more revision to do--substantive changes on ideas, organization, logic, overall clarity of the argument--but now's also the time for them to look at the sentence level, and in many instances, there are systemic problems there. I had originally intended to mark a few representative examples and let them take it from there, but now that I'm in the process, I realize I don't yet trust their ability to read their work with enough attention or understanding to recognize other instances of an error from one or two examples pointed out by me. Again, I may change tactics with paper 2. A lot will depend on the results of this round of revising and editing on their part.

I am taking the calculated risk that I can work my way through the rest of the papers tomorrow. I may have to bail on a committee meeting--but I may bail on the committee anyway. I've intended to rejoin our departmental curriculum committee; I was on it for years, chaired it for a while, and have taken a long hiatus. I'm curious about what's going on (and vaguely mulling ideas for a new course to propose), but I'm not sure I'm curious enough to get involved in the work--which could turn out to be extensive this year, given some SUNY mandates that has the entire campus fartootst. The more I think about it, the more I think the assessment stuff (plus Academic Standing, P&B, scheduling ... am I on anything else?) is enough.

But I do think the risk of leaving the rest of the papers unmarked overnight is worth it. If what I have in hand is all I get, I only have eight plus a smidge more to do. I am missing two papers, but they're not uploaded to TurnItIn, either. One of them is from a student who was in class on Tuesday, came late--and I think he wanted to hand in his paper but we were in the middle of something else, so I told him to give it to me at the end of class. He didn't. I sent him an e-mail saying he needed to bring it to me. No response. I'm not quite sure what to do about him.

The other person who has not uploaded a paper is Ms. I'll Bring the Printed Copy Next Class. Somehow, I have the feeling her nose is out of joint over my comments--and the provisional grade--on the first version. If she shows up tomorrow, no more bending of the rules. Her grade on the first version is her grade on the finished product, and her revision grade is a zero. In any event, I will not be heartbroken if she is gone for good--and I'll lay any odds you like that it won't be long before she is gone.

There's a third instance that puzzles me: am I not sure what to do about the student who was absent but for whom I have a paper in hand. (Perhaps a friend brought it to class?) As far as I can determine, the "new" paper is simply a clean printout of the first one--and nothing is uploaded to TurnItIn. I'm mulling what to do in that case, too.

Incidentally, one of the students who never picked up the first version ambushed me as I was walking from Advisement to the office this afternoon, withdrawal slip in hand. I was relieved--not so much for myself as for her. She didn't seem very engaged in the work--possibly even lost. But I was surprised to see that she's withdrawing from everything. I made that observation to her, and she said she's going to cosmetology school instead. That's great. I bet she'll be a lot happier, and I'm sure she'll do well. Good for her.

Shifting gears, the Fiction Writing class was good--but there are two students who sit next to each other and drive each other bats. It's all very good natured so far, but I can tell there is an underlying seriousness about their animosity: they do not like each other, and they're both vocal about it. One is "Kyra," the other I'll call Mr. Italy, as his Italian heritage is clearly very important to him. I'm not sure what to do about them; so far, their sniping at each other is not disruptive to the class, but they're on somewhat thin ice as far as I'm concerned. Today I said I might have to make them sit further apart from each other (and Mr. Italy immediately made a semi-joke asking if I'd switch seats with him; next class I may). I'm monitoring the situation.

Another student, Ms. Romance Novel, came to me after class because I'd said we needed to sit down and talk about her class notes. Her notes have been nothing but summary, class after class, and she didn't seem to have any clue what she needed to do instead. At the same time, Kyra needed copies of the stories for next week, which I'd forgotten to keep in my class folder, so the two of them accompanied me back to the office. Calling the younger woman Kyra is doing a disservice to the character on Friday Night Lights. On the show, Kyra looks like a pretty dither-brain but she's extremely intelligent and academically ambitious, though lacking in self-esteem. The "Kyra" in my class may be smart, but she acts like a dither-brain--and has more self-esteem than may be appropriate. She spent the first third of the walk talking about how she had to get to her nail appointment, and the last third saying that she couldn't understand why students were complaining when their 102 professor was a frequent no-show. She said she just sees it as more time for work (as in her paying job, not school work). I said, "Well, those who prioritize work are happy to have class canceled; those who prioritize education want the teacher there so they can learn." She tried to say she has to prioritize both, but clearly that's not the case. The nails and the money come first.

The middle third of that walk/talk was interesting on a different level: she was saying that one of her  colleagues has been complaining/boasting that her daughter has a ferocious load of school work because she's going to Columbia medical school. Kyra kept saying her work load was equivalent. Kyra is planning on something medically related once she leaves here (I've now forgotten precisely what, or where), and it's true that she may not find her load at her four-year school significantly different from the load at NCC, but clearly she has zero clue what a top flight medical degree requires. Schools have prestige for reasons, and it isn't because they require the same level of work as everywhere else.

She's starting to wear on me a bit, I have to say; I'm less charmed than I was originally. But Ms. Romance Novel is delighting me. She is so devoted to reaching a new level of sophistication in both her reading and her writing, it's touching. After Kyra left, Ms. Romance Novel and I looked carefully at her last set of notes; she thought that because she was providing quotations, she was doing more than summary. So I asked her the leading questions, pointing out what she had done--and what the next steps would be. She asked me to be patient--was I sounding testy? I hope not, as I didn't feel that way--but I told her that I didn't need patience with her, she needed patience with herself. What she's doing is much more tasking than it might appear. The whole world of words has suddenly become bewilderingly complex for her, but there were several things about our interaction that I loved. One was that she could, with prompting, get to the deeper, more sophisticated understanding. Two, after we worked through a few examples, she looked at the rest of her notes and could identify the summarizing, recognized that she was, in fact, doing just that and nothing more. Indeed, I asked her what was different in how we'd been working together, and she was aware that she had to pay more attention to specific words, entire sentences, to read, not just read. Third was a particular moment. She referred again to the Real Writer in the class, noting that his responses to the story we'd just read were in themselves elegant and sophisticated. (The story in question, Emma Straub's "Orient Point.") As she'd been vocal in her praise of his writing, I said, "So, do you see the connection between sophisticated reading and sophisticated writing?" She looked first stunned, then delighted: light bulb above head lights up. Ah! The way to become a more sophisticated writer is to become a more sophisticated reader--and vice versa. She asked me for book recommendations. I didn't want to hurl her into the deep end, but I made a couple of suggestions of books she might like to take with her on her trip next week. I'll be most interested to hear her responses.

After she left the office, Paul and I had a long talk about our various work-related demons and the stress that they induce--and in the process I decided that tonight, I'd be better served by staying here in the office, shuffling papers into the triage stacks, and writing this post than by running out of here to go to yoga class. I suspect that until I've marked the final versions of paper 2 for the 102 class, Wednesday nights are going to look like this for me: for the next four weeks, I'll be turning papers around between Tuesday and Thursday--and I still need time to do self-indulgent things like, oh, eat, sleep. Even if I stop working as early as I did today (5 p.m.)--in which case, technically I could go to yoga--I simply don't want to feel rushed or pushed or fussed in any way.

So, unrushed, unpushed, and unfussed, right now, I want to go home. I'm going to send one e-mail (I hope that's all), pack my bags and get out of here. I'll be in bright and early tomorrow, and you know what we say about tomorrow. After all, it is another day.