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Wednesday, October 14, 2015

P.S.: Talking to a fucking wall

Today I sent out a parcel of e-mails to students in the M&D class about the fact that they hadn't uploaded their essays to Turnitin.com. I have repeatedly said--and have written in the syllabus and on the assignment sheets--that the submission has to go through our class Blackboard page, not directly through Turnitin, but two students said variations on "I went to Turnitin but I can't get it to work." That's because you can't do it directly through Turnitin, goddammit: you have to go through Blackboard.

But, looking for the positive side: at least they read their e-mails and contacted me. That's actually progress, especially for one of them, who has been sullen and uncommunicative (he's the one who was complaining about always getting the same marks on his assignments--and who, by the way, still has not changed the content of his assignments, though he said he had a better understanding of what I want).

I shouldn't be doing this just before bed, but before I left work today, in my personal e-mail was a message from a former student, asking for some advice about her personal life. I didn't have a chance to respond to that when I was in the office, but I didn't want her message to languish in my in-box, so I went online to answer it and, well, one thing led to another. I wish it wouldn't. I wish one thing would just be one thing and not lead anywhere at all sometimes.

Six a.m. alarm tomorrow, so I can be sure to be on campus and at least marginally awake to conduct another observation at 10, And if I post to the blog at all tomorrow, it will have to be between classes and thus leave out anything that happens in M&D, as once that class is over, I plan to get stuck in rush-hour traffic on my way to Queens to see Hamlet.

Oh, and speaking of being a very, very bad girl because I keep doing things for fun: I'd not yet set up an opportunity to do one of the tasks I'd said I'd do for Seminar Hours, so I sent an e-mail to the two colleagues involved suggesting we pick a Thursday. One of them proposed a Thursday, the other said it would work for him--and it's next Thursday, when I'll be driving up to the Finger Lakes for my extended birthday weekend celebration.

Bad bad bad me. There's just no getting around it: I'm a bad girl. They're going to revoke my full professorship and put me in a corner with a sign around my neck that says "irresponsible: has fun instead of doing work."

Or, for tonight, "Goes to bed instead of blogging any more."

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