Well, that does it

I wanted to get through the last few papers for the Mystery class tonight, but I hit one that is so bad I just had to quit. Fortunately, it's very short, so I don't have to spend much time on it: it's a clear fail, but I do need to give the student some idea of what she's doing wrong (just about everything) and what she can do to make it right in revision. After that one, I only have two more to grind through--and one is My Favorite Student's, so I'm actually looking forward to that. I've been disappointed in the past, expecting a great paper from a student who has submitted something under par, but all her written work to date has been great, so I'm hopeful.

I must say, too, that the stack of stuff I'll be returning for that class is pretty astounding--and it feels awfully fine to get it all off my desk at long last.

In any event, once those are done, I'll read and comment on the stories for Wednesday's Fiction class. The worst of the bunch were, fortunately, among those we were set to workshop today, so most of what remains will be relatively good to read--and a few I'm truly looking forward to. We didn't get through as many stories today as we did on the first day of our last workshop process: two students remain to pick up on Wednesday, so I'm guessing that there will be four who won't get the benefit of the workshop process this time around. But again, they simply get to go first next time. I was happy to note, however, that the two students who went first (the ones who were left out last round)--the two who are the weakest in terms of their grasp of the language generally--both had written moments that were quite wonderful and that I could genuinely praise. In fact, I think I'd go so far as to say that, at least in the ones I've read, everyone has made improvements since the first story.

The workshop process is always a treat, too: they're great at what they notice, and I love that they're willing to disagree. The Real Writer and Edison Adams of course always have the best comments--and are very diplomatic in how they convey them, but they don't pull any punches. Yes, please: let's treat each other as adults who can take criticism and learn from it.

Interestingly enough, I had a similar experience with my youngest nephew this weekend. He'd posted a "poem" he'd written on Facebook and--since I'd strongly encouraged him in his stated desire to try writing poetry again--he specifically asked for my feedback. He sure got it. I told him it isn't a poem yet: too ordinary, too hackneyed. I admitted that I personally dislike insistent rhyme and rhythm, but told him that I like that he was willing to work in a clear form--and equally, that as long as he's going to do that, he needs to be in complete control of it: if the rhythm isn't exact, he needs to make that a specific choice, not a consequence of ill-considered word choice. And, bless his heart, he was truly happy and grateful to get the critique. He's 16--and he could be a model of maturity for some of my students (I'm thinking in particular of the student in the Fiction class whose "revision" consisted entirely of adding two sentences, and who, in his report, said he didn't want to change anything else, the lazy fucker).

Well, getting out of that particular brag/rant session: as I was marking all the assignments for the Mystery class today, I did need to take the occasional brain break--and one of them was to start pulling together in-class writing assignments for the Fiction class. Pretty fun, actually. So far, I've only raided from Le Guin's Steering the Craft, but next I'll embark on the Gotham Writer's Workshop volume and pull out some fun stuff from there--and tweak it or use it as springboard for my own ideas.

I confess to being a bit anxious about tomorrow's 102 class. I'm worried that the students won't have done any reading in the novel prior to diving into their revisions--which will leave us with nothing to discuss. If that's the case, I may just send them away, but I won't know for sure how I'll feel or what I'll do unless it happens. Please heaven it won't: may they surprise me delightfully by being ready to talk about the book.

I can't think about the book now, however, without also thinking about my sabbatical application. I comments from another colleague on P&B today--but he didn't answer the one main question I had, which I still haven't gotten satisfactory feedback on. In fact, his response muddied the waters for me to a certain extent: I need to look carefully at all the feedback I've gotten--thank God it's all written down--and clarify for myself exactly what the areas of concern are. One of them is that I don't make enough of my contact with Le Guin; another is that I don't say enough about the novel itself. (I didn't think I needed to, as all that really matters is that the novel is important in SF studies and should be widely known outside that "ghetto," and therefore there is a purpose to my proposal. Does the sabbatical committee really need to know about the contents of the book? And if so, what, and how much?)

Fortunately, ultimately, it's my call what I do and do not include. I will listen very carefully to my colleagues' advice: they have an objectivity about my project that I obviously cannot have, and so even if at first I think I disagree with what they say, I need to back up and try to develop some objectivity of my own. Often, when I do that, I end up thinking, "Well, actually, they have a point"--and changing whatever it is as suggested.

But that's a project for another time. I need to get through this week first, and god knows I'll have enough to keep me amused. I have two observations to conduct: one tomorrow after the Mystery class; one Wednesday at 12:30 (so I have to get in to Advisement early in order to leave early). And that means write-ups of the observations--on top of the paper grading and so on. Not that the write-ups take all that long, but it's a matter of where to put them on the triage stack.

Shifting gears back to classes: I had a great time this weekend re-reading P. D. James's An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, which is next up for the Mystery class. I'll be most interested to get their thoughts on the first chapters. It is by far the most literary work we've read to date--and one in which the personalities are, to a large degree, more important than the "whodunnit" aspects of the story. I honestly can't predict how they'll feel about it--or how challenging they'll find it to read, if at all. But I also know I'll return all their work to them at the end of class: I don't want them distracted by their grades until after we've talked about the reading.

There's a department meeting tomorrow: depending on how the grading goes, I may bail on it. I want to collect those papers from the 102 class tomorrow afternoon with the decks as clear as I can possibly make them, so I can dig into giving second-round feedback with nothing else needing to be done first. Since I gave more feedback on the first versions this time, I hope to do less on the second--but that reminds me, I do need to re-do that final version check sheet. But not tonight. It doesn't need to be done until next week, so it gets pushed down the triage list.

The bells just rang 7:00. My evening office hour is officially over--and I am officially out of here. No re-read, no edit--yet again. Posting and running out the door.