Whose responsibility?

Yesterday and today, I got a few emails from students who clearly were under the misapprehension that they can submit their essays whenever they want and that yesterday's "peer review" session was just an empty exercise on "drafts"--despite my explanations to the contrary. That's on top of the students who simply didn't turn anything in and haven't contacted me either. One student clearly felt all she needed to do was the upload to Turnitin, nothing else.

So, here's the thing. I didn't hammer the deadlines and late paper penalties with them. In fact, I didn't really spend much time on an explanation of all the nuts and bolts of submission, in part because I ran out of time and in part because--foolishly--I expected them to pay attention to the assignment handout because I said, "Read over page two carefully; it has all the information about late penalties and so on."

I am again slapped in the face with the fact that I need to simplify stuff for them because 1. When confronted with multiple handouts, they get lost, 2. When confronted with text more complicated than simple 1-2 line bullet points, they blank out (and everything turns into "Blah blah blah, Ginger"), 3. They cannot handle a process that is more than about two steps long--and even that's pushing it.

Of course, those points are infuriating, frustrating, and even saddening to me: they should be able to do all those things (or at least 2 and 3), god dammit, and the fact that they can't makes me want to scream and rant and throw heavy objects.

Nevertheless, that's where they are. It's a pathetic reality, but it's a reality.

Two things need to be addressed. The more pressing is what to do about the alarming number of students who are missing part or all of their submissions--especially as at least a few of those students are well intentioned and potentially very good, once they understand the process. (Oh, and that reminds me of another subject for ranting: they seem to think that all they need to do is send an email and the situation is covered, without their ever checking for a response--especially a response that might let them know they are operating on a faulty assumption. But I digress.) I don't know what to do about those students. All I can think is to take it case by case, even though doing so ends up being uncomfortably subjective--but there is no "one size fits all" solution to the problem. Some of them deserve to face-plant into the sidewalk. Some deserve to be caught just short of the full smash--enough to scare the shit out of them but not to trash their chances at a reasonable grade for the semester.

The long-range problem to address is the complexity issue, and this is a more thorny problem to address, as essentially it means I have to rewire my brain (which is unlikely to happen between now and January). Or I need to borrow Paul's brain: he has a genius for being simple and direct--and cutting out the obfuscations. I'm quite serious about this: I really feel incapable of thinking in the bullet-point directness students need.

Saying that, I realize how torturous it is for them to do the opposite: move from their own simplistic thinking to the broader, more extensive mental explorations I require of them. Note to self: bring this up in class--not only that I am aware what I'm asking feels completely foreign but that there's a chance it may actually be somewhat impossible. I honestly don't know how much someone on their end of the spectrum really can expand, just as I honestly don't know how much I really can simplify, at least without help.

I am interested to note that my concern over the 101 students has completely overwhelmed any thoughts I have about the SF class, which I met with today. A number of students were absent (some apparently permanently), but in general, the class discussion was good. I hope I wasn't unduly snappish in my written comments to the young man who seems to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder (and who fancies himself quite the expert at analytical thought already--though I've yet to see much sign of it in his work), but his self-evaluation did arouse a response in me that I am not altogether proud of: he's the kind of kid I want to knock down several pegs. He is not, in fact, as advanced as he thinks he is, and part of me relishes disabusing him of his inflated sense of his abilities--but on the other hand, he is genuinely intelligent and if he had just a smidgen more humility, would probably be an excellent student. He may actually be more humble than he appears; I was pleased (and a bit ashamed) to see that he was carefully reading my comments. And it wasn't until I wrote that sentence that it dawned on me that he may just want to impress me: he may not think he's that wonderful, but it may be important to him that I think he's that wonderful. Ultimately, I do want to encourage him, but I also want him to have a realistic sense of where he stands.

Some echoes with my conversation with the Media Mogul last  night.

But what I like most about the SF class is that the students--for the most part--seem to hunger for the intellectual depth they find in my class: they're soaking in as much as they can, and it's deeply gratifying. I was similarly gratified that I got two expressions of desire for what I have to offer from 101 students today. One had to withdraw, more's the pity. I don't know what she'd be capable of as a student, but she seemed to really want to be in the class, and she said she wanted to take it from me in the spring. Of course, there are grains of salt sprinkled around here, but still: it's nice.

The other student is one of those who was late with his work--but he did submit both portions today, and when he came by to drop off the printout of his essay, he made a point of telling me that the rigor of my class is what he needs: that he doesn't like writing and struggles with it, but he knows how important it is and feels he'll be forced to advance his skills in my class. He's been absent a fair amount his semester (family issues, I found out today), but when he's been in class, it's been clear that he's got the intellectual chops to do well. I just wish the other three young men in that class with the most promise hadn't blown up over this first essay, as apparently they did. (Hence the panicked reaching out to Paul for aid.)

One last thing to report: I met with a student today in my capacity as evening supervisor. I won't do anything until I hear the professor's side of the equation, but from what the student said, I think the professor may have overreacted, though I can understand why. There is a way of being very direct that can come across as disrespectful and confrontational, and students frequently don't understand why professors react with anger to that kind of directness--and I'm among the professors who can have that angry response, so I completely understand my colleague's reactions. But I do want to help the student if I can without infringing on my colleague's authority. It will be interesting to see how that all shakes out.

Between that and the way I dealt with an adjunct I will be observing in a few weeks, I sometimes think I am just too soft. I know: doesn't gibe with my "big brass balls" image, but I really do have a mushy streak. The original "everything is black or white" kid: in my make-up there is very little grey area between mush and brass. Ah well.

And now I have one hell of a weekend ahead of me: shitloads of essay grading--because I need to get as much done over the next three days as possible, in order to not drown in everything that's coming down the pike right behind what I have already. I also realized last night that, like an absolute moron, I scheduled the next essays to arrive the day before my birthday, so I'll spend my birthday weekend in a similar stew (though I'm sure there will have been some significant attrition by then, if the lack of submissions on this round are anything to go by).

That's still a ways down the road, however. Sufficient unto this weekend is the grading thereof. And it's now late enough that I really need to get home to start my wind-down process (which takes for-fucking-ever, especially when I'm frustrated and feeling like a crappy teacher). I will pack up my take-home tote-bag and stagger off into the ... well, the sun already set, so the increasing autumnal darkness.