Those words actually came out of my mouth this afternoon, after the end of the 101 class. One of the students who was hurled from basic education to 101 has repeatedly complained about how hard things are. Obviously I don't have the same kind of temper surges I used to have, or I'd have been a lot closer to yelling at her--but I did say exactly that: "Do I look like I care?" She was bewildered. She also came to class very late and was shuffling her papers around, trying to get organized; I had to make her stop, as it was distracting to me and to the other students in the class. (I also had to tell one young woman not to brush her hair.) I had to explain to her several things (and fortunately, the Not-So-Cowardly Lioness was there to reinforce what I was saying). So, to little Miss Complainer, I explained the following:
1. When one comes to class late, that is not the time to be flipping through papers in one's notebook, trying to get organized. Do it before class or after, not during.
2. When one comes to class late, "I got lost! Seriously! I'm not lying!" is not an appropriate response. (First of all: got lost? In the sixth week of classes? Baby doll, get your head out of your ass and pay attention to where you are.) It does not matter why one is late. I asked her what does matter: blank look. The Lioness chipped in: "What matters is that you were late." Yes. Thank you.
3. It is not appropriate to complain to the professor about how hard the class is. "Why not? Who else?" Professors have egos; we have put a lot of work into designing our classes, and we believe that what we are offering is appropriate for the students' level. If all one is doing is venting, the professor needn't be the sympathetic ear. If one is genuinely struggling, then rather than complaining, one should approach the professor for specific help. Professors will get annoyed by hearing repeated complaints about how difficult the class is--and much as we try to be objective, we're human, and we're likely to be just a little bit harder in marking work from a student who complains.
I didn't say "College is supposed to be hard," because I don't think she'd hear that. I did ask her what she expected me to do about her complaint. "Nothing," she replied. "Then why do I have to hear it?" I responded. Oh. OK.
She also continues to call me Miss, despite having been corrected numerous times. Today--as she was going to tell me the sad story of how lost she got and how hard everything is--she said, "Listen, Miss..." (imagine a very plaintive tone). I interrupted: "Excuse me: who??" (Chagrin, correction,
"I mean Professor..." I should damned well hope you do.)
Today I told them that there are five keys to academic success, in addition to working through frustration: the five that I want to convey in my TED talk (should I ever do one). A couple of the students who are struggling diligently started taking notes--and didn't quite get the humor. The Lioness got the joke. (If you missed it, the five are Read carefully, pay attention to detail, read carefully, pay attention to detail, and read carefully.)
But we got some good thinking on the food issue--and a couple of them are already interested in the topic, which is great. (This is the "food and the environment" topic.)
Today was also one of those days in which I ended up re-doing a lot of assignment handouts, working on the theory that if I do the changes now, while I'm thinking about them (usually because something has come up in class that makes me rethink how I've said something--as in my realization yesterday that my "In what circumstance" question was leaving students baffled)--and once I make one adjustment (and save it, export the document to a PDF, and upload it to Blackboard), I invariably think of at least one other change to make, and oh, yeah, I need to make the change to these handouts, too, and oh, that reminds me, I should....
And hours pass....
It's still early as I write this, and I got dispensation to leave early today. I got it because I have a physical therapy appointment, but since I got home so late the last two nights, I haven't practiced fiddle--and I'm going painfully short on sleep. So I'm going to take advantage of the early departure sanction and just go home. It is rather lovely that it's still light out (and in another eleven days, it will be even lighter, as we'll have sprung forward). But mostly, I'm just omigod tired and need to get home.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Well, dammit...
The SF students let me down today. Most of them had their essays (good), but only three had even attempted the reading, and about half of them didn't have their books with them. I told them I'm not allowed, legally, to boot them from the class, but that I was sorely tempted to do it anyway. However, making the best of a crap situation, I said, "OK, this is going to be kind of like kindergarten, but we're going to sit in an oval and do a read around."
I will say, they rather salvaged my mood by 1. being entirely willing to read out loud (though some of them were painfully bad at it) and 2. by finding the humor in Atwood's writing. They were picking up on some good bits--and some of them diligently taking notes as we read and talked.
They're trying to refrain from speculation--largely unsuccessfully--but they at least are learning that the response to a question might be, "You'll find out," or "Let's keep looking." I will have to set them straight on one issue, however, as I can tell that, if I don't, they're going to be following unproductive rabbit trails and missing more important bits: they want to know whether the eponymous Oryx and Crake are/were real or are the result of Jimmy/Snowman's fractured mind. (They are/were real--but whether Snowman is hallucinating or just having vivid memories can be debated. I think they'll figure that out in the next chapters, but ... well, I may just have to hand it to them.) To again give them credit where it is due, they also understood when I pointed out that Snowman's interjections into the memories of when he was Jimmy are an adult commenting on childhood memories. I remembered to frame it in terms of their own experience: "When you remember what you were like or what you did as a child, can you now, as an adult, comment on what you remember?" Yep, nodding heads. OK, there we go then.
Backing up to earlier in the day, I met with the Cowardly Lioness--and she was much braver and stronger today. She has good, solid ideas, which is great. I pushed back against some of her thinking, but she could adjust and come up with a new stance or a counter-argument. One of the best moments was, in fact, when I was talking with her about the value of including counter-arguments, and she said--without any prompting from me--"I can see how that will make my argument much stronger." That's a big score for her. I suspect that, as she has these realizations, her confidence will grow--and I told her that: she's experiencing one of the things she's talking about in her essay, which was the way in which the college experience can make us "grow in ourselves," as she said. Yes, indeed.
P&B was only moderately annoying. The new administrator in charge of labor relations is after us to clarify some things in the qualifications to teach various courses, and although in some instances we could simply adjust the language (or say, "Yes, we do that," to her query about whether we did X and such), she also was asking us to quantify some things that really can't be quantified. How do we quantify a "significant" record of publications? How do we quantify sufficient "experience"? Paul very rightly pointed out that 1. the contract gives P&B committees control over such decisions (and in one case, she flatly tried to take it away from us: no), and 2. this is an area where we can't back down. We have to say, "This is something where you have to trust the knowledge and expertise of the professionals in the field; these are determinations that we make as elected representatives of the department in terms of personnel matters." Basta. End of story.
Of course, I don't envy Cathy the task of having to make those arguments--but I know if anyone can make them and not back down, it's Cathy. She heard us and agreed to go to battle.
Paul and I are also involved in trying to clear up degree "audit" information for the Associate's degree in Creative Writing that we now offer. The college is switching over to a new software system for tracking which degree requirements students have fulfilled (don't get me started on that), so we had to vet the way things appeared--and I'm glad we were asked to do that, as there were some errors, some needed clarifications, and the whole thing raised much thornier problems that we'll eventually have to address as a department. There have been long and convoluted email chains on all of that, and it feels a bit like there's just more hair being added to the hairball. I tried to sort out some strands that were getting tangled together, but ... well, oy.
I'm sure there are other things I could report for today, but that wall just loomed up out of nowhere and smacked me stupid. I'm signing off. More tomorrow, I'm sure.
I will say, they rather salvaged my mood by 1. being entirely willing to read out loud (though some of them were painfully bad at it) and 2. by finding the humor in Atwood's writing. They were picking up on some good bits--and some of them diligently taking notes as we read and talked.
They're trying to refrain from speculation--largely unsuccessfully--but they at least are learning that the response to a question might be, "You'll find out," or "Let's keep looking." I will have to set them straight on one issue, however, as I can tell that, if I don't, they're going to be following unproductive rabbit trails and missing more important bits: they want to know whether the eponymous Oryx and Crake are/were real or are the result of Jimmy/Snowman's fractured mind. (They are/were real--but whether Snowman is hallucinating or just having vivid memories can be debated. I think they'll figure that out in the next chapters, but ... well, I may just have to hand it to them.) To again give them credit where it is due, they also understood when I pointed out that Snowman's interjections into the memories of when he was Jimmy are an adult commenting on childhood memories. I remembered to frame it in terms of their own experience: "When you remember what you were like or what you did as a child, can you now, as an adult, comment on what you remember?" Yep, nodding heads. OK, there we go then.
Backing up to earlier in the day, I met with the Cowardly Lioness--and she was much braver and stronger today. She has good, solid ideas, which is great. I pushed back against some of her thinking, but she could adjust and come up with a new stance or a counter-argument. One of the best moments was, in fact, when I was talking with her about the value of including counter-arguments, and she said--without any prompting from me--"I can see how that will make my argument much stronger." That's a big score for her. I suspect that, as she has these realizations, her confidence will grow--and I told her that: she's experiencing one of the things she's talking about in her essay, which was the way in which the college experience can make us "grow in ourselves," as she said. Yes, indeed.
P&B was only moderately annoying. The new administrator in charge of labor relations is after us to clarify some things in the qualifications to teach various courses, and although in some instances we could simply adjust the language (or say, "Yes, we do that," to her query about whether we did X and such), she also was asking us to quantify some things that really can't be quantified. How do we quantify a "significant" record of publications? How do we quantify sufficient "experience"? Paul very rightly pointed out that 1. the contract gives P&B committees control over such decisions (and in one case, she flatly tried to take it away from us: no), and 2. this is an area where we can't back down. We have to say, "This is something where you have to trust the knowledge and expertise of the professionals in the field; these are determinations that we make as elected representatives of the department in terms of personnel matters." Basta. End of story.
Of course, I don't envy Cathy the task of having to make those arguments--but I know if anyone can make them and not back down, it's Cathy. She heard us and agreed to go to battle.
Paul and I are also involved in trying to clear up degree "audit" information for the Associate's degree in Creative Writing that we now offer. The college is switching over to a new software system for tracking which degree requirements students have fulfilled (don't get me started on that), so we had to vet the way things appeared--and I'm glad we were asked to do that, as there were some errors, some needed clarifications, and the whole thing raised much thornier problems that we'll eventually have to address as a department. There have been long and convoluted email chains on all of that, and it feels a bit like there's just more hair being added to the hairball. I tried to sort out some strands that were getting tangled together, but ... well, oy.
I'm sure there are other things I could report for today, but that wall just loomed up out of nowhere and smacked me stupid. I'm signing off. More tomorrow, I'm sure.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Lots of hand-holding
I feel like today has been a day of holding toddlers' sweaty little hands while they cling and whine... I got a lot of whining about the fact that the 101 students were to have revised their essays by today (most hadn't) and that the final versions are due on Wednesday (as if they couldn't have figured that out by, oh, say, looking at the assignment schedule), and I just wasn't having it. If you want credit for the assignment, you have to do what's required by the date when it's required.
Oddly, however, I have a lot more patience with the young woman who had a panic attack before the essay was due. She missed her conference, as I think I mentioned, and I thought she wasn't going to show up today--but she did. She was shaky and frightened, but she was here. She gets huge courage points for that; I'll call her the Cowardly Lioness--but she's less cowardly than she knows, and probably more lioness than she's yet realized. And she said she didn't care about the grade--that she knows she already failed the class (well, maybe, but maybe not)--but she wants to learn what she can so she can move forward eventually. I can work with that. She's really struggling to overcome the crippling anxiety--which is largely caused by being in college and feeling unprepared for it. (Ironically, that's the topic she's not addressing in this first essay; in fact, she said the article that pointed out that students are often afraid to go for help was more discouraging than heartening, which surprised me.)
In any event, I'm getting testy with the 101 students. One man in the class is going to drive me nuts: he is wildly eager to do well--but he's going to be here during my office hours every week, I think, asking for help with his writing. On the one hand, I'm glad he's being proactive and getting the help; on the other, he's trying so hard that--to use Paul's metaphor--he's throwing everything at the wall to see what will stick. I'd rather he admit that he has no idea, but that's a tall order, I know.
One thing in class that I found fascinating: On a quiz, I had asked students, "Under what circumstance would you paraphrase instead of quoting?" Most of the students answered with a definition of paraphrase--or explained why one uses evidence in an academic argument, neither of which answered the question. So I went over it with them in class today, and extracting impacted wisdom teeth would be a casual event by comparison. We finally had to define by exclusion--why do we quote instead of paraphrasing?--but then a student asked why they should paraphrase at all. I hadn't realized how challenging that whole concept would be, and I'm still not sure how best to address the concept so it makes sense.
I had hoped to get a lot more done on the other classes today, but I had lots of weeds and vines around my feet all day, so it seemed I couldn't move a step without disentangling something or other. The end result is that I've spent the day feeling highly addled--and behind the curve (so whatever incremental progress I made over the break is now sufficiently in the past that it's not progress at all). I have a doctor's appointment in the morning, and I'll be meeting with the Cowardly Lioness just before I have to meet with the SF class. I'm hoping wildly there will be enough time in between the doctor and the student meeting that I can get some homework marked for the SF--and then I hope to be able to turn my attention to the Nature in Lit, which once again is going untended. (This is the peril of teaching online. I'm as bad as the students are about putting it off because there's no set time when I must do it, even though I swore to myself that I'd work on it every Thursday and Sunday. Um, no so much.)
And I have several life-maintenance things I must do before I get home, so, I'm off. (I'm also leaving.)
Oddly, however, I have a lot more patience with the young woman who had a panic attack before the essay was due. She missed her conference, as I think I mentioned, and I thought she wasn't going to show up today--but she did. She was shaky and frightened, but she was here. She gets huge courage points for that; I'll call her the Cowardly Lioness--but she's less cowardly than she knows, and probably more lioness than she's yet realized. And she said she didn't care about the grade--that she knows she already failed the class (well, maybe, but maybe not)--but she wants to learn what she can so she can move forward eventually. I can work with that. She's really struggling to overcome the crippling anxiety--which is largely caused by being in college and feeling unprepared for it. (Ironically, that's the topic she's not addressing in this first essay; in fact, she said the article that pointed out that students are often afraid to go for help was more discouraging than heartening, which surprised me.)
In any event, I'm getting testy with the 101 students. One man in the class is going to drive me nuts: he is wildly eager to do well--but he's going to be here during my office hours every week, I think, asking for help with his writing. On the one hand, I'm glad he's being proactive and getting the help; on the other, he's trying so hard that--to use Paul's metaphor--he's throwing everything at the wall to see what will stick. I'd rather he admit that he has no idea, but that's a tall order, I know.
One thing in class that I found fascinating: On a quiz, I had asked students, "Under what circumstance would you paraphrase instead of quoting?" Most of the students answered with a definition of paraphrase--or explained why one uses evidence in an academic argument, neither of which answered the question. So I went over it with them in class today, and extracting impacted wisdom teeth would be a casual event by comparison. We finally had to define by exclusion--why do we quote instead of paraphrasing?--but then a student asked why they should paraphrase at all. I hadn't realized how challenging that whole concept would be, and I'm still not sure how best to address the concept so it makes sense.
I had hoped to get a lot more done on the other classes today, but I had lots of weeds and vines around my feet all day, so it seemed I couldn't move a step without disentangling something or other. The end result is that I've spent the day feeling highly addled--and behind the curve (so whatever incremental progress I made over the break is now sufficiently in the past that it's not progress at all). I have a doctor's appointment in the morning, and I'll be meeting with the Cowardly Lioness just before I have to meet with the SF class. I'm hoping wildly there will be enough time in between the doctor and the student meeting that I can get some homework marked for the SF--and then I hope to be able to turn my attention to the Nature in Lit, which once again is going untended. (This is the peril of teaching online. I'm as bad as the students are about putting it off because there's no set time when I must do it, even though I swore to myself that I'd work on it every Thursday and Sunday. Um, no so much.)
And I have several life-maintenance things I must do before I get home, so, I'm off. (I'm also leaving.)
Sunday, February 18, 2018
A teeny bit of headway
After being in "I'm on a break; I can collapse" mode for several days, I have just spent the day trying to get caught up and even a little ahead on the Nature in Lit course. I did find some critical material to provide for them to use for their second essays--though I don't quite know how to get it to them, as I have it in print and I think our library only has it in print (and a number of them cannot get to campus--in at least one case because he's not even in this state). But I did also manage to pull together essay topics--and to get a rough idea of the essay topics for their final essay as well. I think I may have mentioned that one of the librarians is going to create a LibGuide (a focused guide to specific research) for me for that essay, which will be wonderful. I'd do the same for my SF class--except there's already a LibGuide on LHoD that they can use, plus all the materials I put together on my sabbatical. I will do the same for any other electives I teach in the future. I'd dearly love to get rid of the critical research component altogether, but it's one of the Course Goals, so ... well, needs must.
I also realized I could organize a few things better--specifically where students go to see the essay assignments. I had that information buried in a "weekly" folder, but some students I know will want to get rolling on their essays early, so (duh) I made a specific "essay assignments" folder. I am, however, putting time restrictions on when the assignments appear: they can't see Essay 2 until after the due date for Essay 1; can't see Essay 3 until after the due date for Essay 2.
Then there's the issue of grading. I did grade everything--or so I thought, but when I look at the overall grade records, some students seem to be missing grades for assignments I'm pretty sure they did--and in at least one case, not all the grades are showing up in the "Total" column (which will entail a call to the Help Desk, dammit).
And, oh joy, I realized that I hadn't gotten quite as far as I remembered in terms of getting the Weekly folders ready to go. I grant, I only have three more weeks to do, but I thought I'd at least sketched out everything. Nope, not so much.
Well, c'est la guerre.
So, at the moment, I have several stacks of books on the bedroom floor--which obviously isn't going to get the information out of them and to my students, but I'm hoping I won't have to scan in the neighborhood of 15 separate articles. I think I can do that on campus (though I'm not sure how it works on our new copiers), which would be better than using my little at-home printer-scanner-copier-fax dealie (which gets the job done but can be torturously slow).
I don't even quite have it in me right now to put away the stuff I pulled out but am not going to use. I'll just pile that stuff up on the floor too and deal with it ... guess when. Oh, you'll never guess. But try. Guess.
(Yeah, yeah, that's right: tomorrow. When the sun will come out. When it's another day.)
I also realized I could organize a few things better--specifically where students go to see the essay assignments. I had that information buried in a "weekly" folder, but some students I know will want to get rolling on their essays early, so (duh) I made a specific "essay assignments" folder. I am, however, putting time restrictions on when the assignments appear: they can't see Essay 2 until after the due date for Essay 1; can't see Essay 3 until after the due date for Essay 2.
Then there's the issue of grading. I did grade everything--or so I thought, but when I look at the overall grade records, some students seem to be missing grades for assignments I'm pretty sure they did--and in at least one case, not all the grades are showing up in the "Total" column (which will entail a call to the Help Desk, dammit).
And, oh joy, I realized that I hadn't gotten quite as far as I remembered in terms of getting the Weekly folders ready to go. I grant, I only have three more weeks to do, but I thought I'd at least sketched out everything. Nope, not so much.
Well, c'est la guerre.
So, at the moment, I have several stacks of books on the bedroom floor--which obviously isn't going to get the information out of them and to my students, but I'm hoping I won't have to scan in the neighborhood of 15 separate articles. I think I can do that on campus (though I'm not sure how it works on our new copiers), which would be better than using my little at-home printer-scanner-copier-fax dealie (which gets the job done but can be torturously slow).
I don't even quite have it in me right now to put away the stuff I pulled out but am not going to use. I'll just pile that stuff up on the floor too and deal with it ... guess when. Oh, you'll never guess. But try. Guess.
(Yeah, yeah, that's right: tomorrow. When the sun will come out. When it's another day.)
Thursday, February 15, 2018
High praise indeed
Let me reiterate how much I enjoy the SF class. I was scattered and addled today (having raced to class after an unexpected doctor's appointment--and all is well, thank you for the concern), but the students still picked up the class and rolled with it. I was finishing up marking homework I wanted to return today (so they'd have it to use when they work on their essays over the break), doing other paperwork kinds of stuff, had distributed a few more handouts, circulated among the groups--and when the whole class discussion began, after a few questions/comments winged around the room, one of the best and brightest noticed my custom-made red-and-black cowboy boots and his comment was, "Those are awesome boots. That's really bad-ass."
I'm not kidding: that's high praise, for a grey-haired Caucasian English professor to be called "bad-ass"--even if it's just because of the boots.
I'm about to race out of here (heading to yoga class), and I don't know how much posting I'll do over the break, but probably some. I will be very interested to see the general tenor among the 101 students when class resumes. I talked to most of the ones who made appointments--and a couple I thought I wouldn't see dutifully showed up. The young woman who had the panic attack missed her appointment yesterday and contacted me today to ask if she could reschedule--but by that time, I was heading off to go to the doctor. Being at the doctor's office took forever, which normally wouldn't be a surprise, but this particular practice usually runs a pretty tight ship. In any event, I'd had the foresight to warn the SF students I might be late, and I told the poor, panicking 101 student I might be able to see her if I got back in time ... but I didn't. I've suggested that she try to see me during my office hour on Monday; we'll see if she does. I don't want to lose her, or not yet anyway. I'd love to help build her confidence a bit (though she does still have to perform).
Anyway, the 101 students are as ready as I can get them for the next step. The SF students are as ready as I can get them for their first essay. The Nature in Lit students are decidedly getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop, a neglect I intend to rectify tomorrow and into next week.
And at that, I'd better boogie.
I'm not kidding: that's high praise, for a grey-haired Caucasian English professor to be called "bad-ass"--even if it's just because of the boots.
I'm about to race out of here (heading to yoga class), and I don't know how much posting I'll do over the break, but probably some. I will be very interested to see the general tenor among the 101 students when class resumes. I talked to most of the ones who made appointments--and a couple I thought I wouldn't see dutifully showed up. The young woman who had the panic attack missed her appointment yesterday and contacted me today to ask if she could reschedule--but by that time, I was heading off to go to the doctor. Being at the doctor's office took forever, which normally wouldn't be a surprise, but this particular practice usually runs a pretty tight ship. In any event, I'd had the foresight to warn the SF students I might be late, and I told the poor, panicking 101 student I might be able to see her if I got back in time ... but I didn't. I've suggested that she try to see me during my office hour on Monday; we'll see if she does. I don't want to lose her, or not yet anyway. I'd love to help build her confidence a bit (though she does still have to perform).
Anyway, the 101 students are as ready as I can get them for the next step. The SF students are as ready as I can get them for their first essay. The Nature in Lit students are decidedly getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop, a neglect I intend to rectify tomorrow and into next week.
And at that, I'd better boogie.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Tempted to noodle ...
I am tempted to noodle around, doing house-keeping sort of stuff, but I am exhausted. Even though this is a night when I'd usually stay until 7, I'm going to take off in about ten minutes. I don't even have a lot to say. Those students who come out of BEP are just really difficult to deal with, because their frame of reference is so removed from what I'm trying to get them to understand. I asked one student today what his strongest point was, and he told me he was good at using quotations. No, I said: I mean, what point are you making in your argument that you feel is a very good point.
He honestly couldn't answer the question. Essentially, he didn't understand the question.
Sigh.
I did spend a lot of time in the past few days telling students that they have to just try and make the mistakes--and then work to fix the mistakes, not start all over to make the same mistakes again.
I almost want to take my fiddle in to class and show them how I practice: hit a glitch, work though it, slowly, repeatedly, until it unglitches, then run through again to the next glitch. Oh, I got the right notes but my bow position was off. Oh, the bow position was right, and I kinda got the right notes, but....
and on it goes.
I've also been finding it very difficult to focus on marking the homework for the SF class--not because the homework is particularly difficult in itself to deal with, in fact the contrary. I keep seeing responses and I want to have more scholarly knowledge to bring to the discussion. I spent a good whack of my time in Advisement today doing research on the school databases--and found a bunch of interesting articles, two of which I've printed. (Every now and then, I get a tiny bit of Paul's "I want to do some scholarship" bug--but I never felt that confident of my abilities as a scholar, so I don't yearn for it as he does.)
What ever.
There will be that other day that will show up in about six hours--and I hope to be sound asleep when it does flip over to the 15th. More later.
He honestly couldn't answer the question. Essentially, he didn't understand the question.
Sigh.
I did spend a lot of time in the past few days telling students that they have to just try and make the mistakes--and then work to fix the mistakes, not start all over to make the same mistakes again.
I almost want to take my fiddle in to class and show them how I practice: hit a glitch, work though it, slowly, repeatedly, until it unglitches, then run through again to the next glitch. Oh, I got the right notes but my bow position was off. Oh, the bow position was right, and I kinda got the right notes, but....
and on it goes.
I've also been finding it very difficult to focus on marking the homework for the SF class--not because the homework is particularly difficult in itself to deal with, in fact the contrary. I keep seeing responses and I want to have more scholarly knowledge to bring to the discussion. I spent a good whack of my time in Advisement today doing research on the school databases--and found a bunch of interesting articles, two of which I've printed. (Every now and then, I get a tiny bit of Paul's "I want to do some scholarship" bug--but I never felt that confident of my abilities as a scholar, so I don't yearn for it as he does.)
What ever.
There will be that other day that will show up in about six hours--and I hope to be sound asleep when it does flip over to the 15th. More later.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Ups and downs, again (and again)
Today's P&B meeting included more dire and awful possibilities as reported to us by our fearless chair, idiotic and ill-considered maneuvers by the administration being rammed down our throats while we are expected to smile and nod. Even though today was a day when my mood was relatively fragile, I didn't come close to crying this time. Either I'm getting inured to this shit or my psyche said, "Nah, I've got bigger fish to put in the skillet."
I missed today's department meeting (the "active shooter" information session--but Paul and I are in agreement: we'll shove heavy furniture in front of the door and hide, while William cheerfully said he'd put a target on his chest). I didn't actually mind at all missing the meeting, and I was able to get the promotion folders read, the letter for my mentee fixed, and at least one essay graded.
But my first student meeting was pretty painful; one of the students who came straight out of BEP. (Turns out another P&B member also seems to have a 101 with an inordinate number of students who've been hurled over the gap and weren't quite able to securely land on the 101 rim.) Cathy did say that the people who work in that program now acknowledge that essentially they're simply trying to get students to be able to write anything: words in a sequence that makes some kind of sense. Many of our colleagues in that department are excellent teachers who are highly qualified, but some do what Cathy calls "la-la balloons and put it on the refrigerator" work. In any event, Paul was there as I tried to get this poor young woman to think, work, consider--and not just say she feels like she isn't doing very well (she isn't, but it's the first essay in a long semester, and she can do better) and that she's frustrated. I told her that it's fine that she acknowledges the frustration, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell her she should quit--or that I'll make the work any easier. She just has to work through the frustration.
Mr. Over Eager but Can't Follow the Rules didn't make his appointment today. Why was I not surprised?
And the student with whom I ended the day--and whose appointment I completely spaced until I finally meandered upstairs and saw her waiting for me--was very good indeed. Her essay was a bit of a mess, but her lead-off comment was that she was surprised how different it looked when she reread it. Teachable moment. She's one of those students who was a happy surprise: I didn't have much of a read on her at all before our meeting today, but she's actually highly intelligent and has the chops to be a fine writer. Very different affect face to face than in class.
And of the two essays I graded after I met with that student, one was jaw-droppingly excellent. Truly. Excellent. Of course there were things she could fix, but ... wow. Her homework has been good, but she's very shy and retiring in class, and I had no idea she had that mental and verbal power. That's a good, deep breath of very fresh air.
The SF students were, as usual, great--though I did have that confrontation with my former student who plagiarized. She swore to me she hadn't found the information on line--and I was pretty pissed off about it; I told her I was deeply disappointed and I refused to engage with her about it. I finally said it didn't matter where or how she got it; what mattered was that it wasn't hers. She asked if she could do it over. No. She asked if she could do make-up work. No. But when I was packed up and heading back to the office, she was in the hall and called me over: she told me she'd "looked up the definition" and that she did that all the time and it wasn't a problem. The "definition" she'd looked up was an explanation of Mercerism in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I told her that wasn't just looking up a word; that was looking up a concept from the novel--but as she continued to explain, I realized that she has been so confused she didn't know that it was a term made up for the book: she thought it was a real thing in the world. In any event, I told her from now on, she needs to cite even when she looks something up--and she needs to ask more questions in her notes and try to answer them. My usual spiel about how that struggle--trying to make sense of something--is learning. I said, "Having the answer isn't learning; it's how you get the answer that's learning."
Ooooo. Deep.
But I also remembered to give the whole class the "panic earlier" spiel--and they not only listened (and laughed in the right places); they told me it could be a TED talk. Hmmm. Maybe I'll propose myself for a TED talk on keys to student success (panic earlier, work through frustration, read-be detail oriented-read-be detail oriented-read, and allow college to change you: I think those are all my big set pieces).
In any event, I'm amazed I'm anything like compos mentis at this point. it's decidedly time to fold my intellectual tents and steal off into the night.
I missed today's department meeting (the "active shooter" information session--but Paul and I are in agreement: we'll shove heavy furniture in front of the door and hide, while William cheerfully said he'd put a target on his chest). I didn't actually mind at all missing the meeting, and I was able to get the promotion folders read, the letter for my mentee fixed, and at least one essay graded.
But my first student meeting was pretty painful; one of the students who came straight out of BEP. (Turns out another P&B member also seems to have a 101 with an inordinate number of students who've been hurled over the gap and weren't quite able to securely land on the 101 rim.) Cathy did say that the people who work in that program now acknowledge that essentially they're simply trying to get students to be able to write anything: words in a sequence that makes some kind of sense. Many of our colleagues in that department are excellent teachers who are highly qualified, but some do what Cathy calls "la-la balloons and put it on the refrigerator" work. In any event, Paul was there as I tried to get this poor young woman to think, work, consider--and not just say she feels like she isn't doing very well (she isn't, but it's the first essay in a long semester, and she can do better) and that she's frustrated. I told her that it's fine that she acknowledges the frustration, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell her she should quit--or that I'll make the work any easier. She just has to work through the frustration.
Mr. Over Eager but Can't Follow the Rules didn't make his appointment today. Why was I not surprised?
And the student with whom I ended the day--and whose appointment I completely spaced until I finally meandered upstairs and saw her waiting for me--was very good indeed. Her essay was a bit of a mess, but her lead-off comment was that she was surprised how different it looked when she reread it. Teachable moment. She's one of those students who was a happy surprise: I didn't have much of a read on her at all before our meeting today, but she's actually highly intelligent and has the chops to be a fine writer. Very different affect face to face than in class.
And of the two essays I graded after I met with that student, one was jaw-droppingly excellent. Truly. Excellent. Of course there were things she could fix, but ... wow. Her homework has been good, but she's very shy and retiring in class, and I had no idea she had that mental and verbal power. That's a good, deep breath of very fresh air.
The SF students were, as usual, great--though I did have that confrontation with my former student who plagiarized. She swore to me she hadn't found the information on line--and I was pretty pissed off about it; I told her I was deeply disappointed and I refused to engage with her about it. I finally said it didn't matter where or how she got it; what mattered was that it wasn't hers. She asked if she could do it over. No. She asked if she could do make-up work. No. But when I was packed up and heading back to the office, she was in the hall and called me over: she told me she'd "looked up the definition" and that she did that all the time and it wasn't a problem. The "definition" she'd looked up was an explanation of Mercerism in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I told her that wasn't just looking up a word; that was looking up a concept from the novel--but as she continued to explain, I realized that she has been so confused she didn't know that it was a term made up for the book: she thought it was a real thing in the world. In any event, I told her from now on, she needs to cite even when she looks something up--and she needs to ask more questions in her notes and try to answer them. My usual spiel about how that struggle--trying to make sense of something--is learning. I said, "Having the answer isn't learning; it's how you get the answer that's learning."
Ooooo. Deep.
But I also remembered to give the whole class the "panic earlier" spiel--and they not only listened (and laughed in the right places); they told me it could be a TED talk. Hmmm. Maybe I'll propose myself for a TED talk on keys to student success (panic earlier, work through frustration, read-be detail oriented-read-be detail oriented-read, and allow college to change you: I think those are all my big set pieces).
In any event, I'm amazed I'm anything like compos mentis at this point. it's decidedly time to fold my intellectual tents and steal off into the night.
Monday, February 12, 2018
Resisting...
I only have three more 101 essays to respond to--and I am internally kicking and throwing tantrums about it. I don't want to do that work. It isn't that it's such a grueling mental experience; it's more that it's in some way emotionally exhausting. I don't like having to find ways to encourage, console, gently guide. I'm good at it--at least most of the time. There are times when I get wildly impatient with specific students who seem to be fiercely resisting my attempts to be compassionate and kind, but I usually can find a way to convey what needs to be conveyed without just saying, "Christ, what a fucking mess. Fix it" and handing it back to the student, then booting the student out of my office. But it's increasingly draining to find ways to not just call a spade a fucking shovel.
In today's conferences, several students showed up without the homework, without the printout of the essay with my comments, without any preparation for the conference at all, which was annoying as hell. I've rescheduled with them--and have offered second appointments to a few students who seemed to want more, but I really don't want to do a whole lot of hand-holding. One of the best students--my last appointment today--said that she wants the hand-holding, not just from me but from all her professors. I know it's because they want to do well and are frightened as hell that they won't, or can't, but really: they have to stand on their own at some point, and now's the time.
On a different note, I met with the plagiarist from the online class. She started with a question that actually I couldn't answer: she asked if the second instance of plagiarism had been submitted before I sent her the email about the first one. She absolutely admitted that she had plagiarized and that it was stupid, but she was right: the second instance may have actually been virtually synchronous with the first. In any event, I gave her the benefit of the doubt--and we talked about how she can actually do some learning instead of going for the quick fix. I told her I'd be watching her work very intently from now on, and she gets it. (I also got a strange call from one of the administrators; I'd included the Dean of Students as a recipient of the email in which I said something to the student--so I had to explain that, no, I wouldn't be filing the formal paper work and no, there wasn't further action to be taken. Clearly the woman I spoke to had no interest in an involved conversation, which is completely understandable. "So I'll just ignore this," she said and signed off. Yep. Fair enough.)
I'm once again running behind on getting responses to the Nature in Lit students, and I'm getting behind on homework for the SF students. But tomorrow I really have to put most of my time and energy--around the department meeting (on how to handle an active shooter situation, about which I have very mixed feelings) and two student conferences before P&B. So, it will be an early morning--well, early for a Tuesday/Thursday.
And now I have to hustle off to get to physical therapy. Buh-byeee.
In today's conferences, several students showed up without the homework, without the printout of the essay with my comments, without any preparation for the conference at all, which was annoying as hell. I've rescheduled with them--and have offered second appointments to a few students who seemed to want more, but I really don't want to do a whole lot of hand-holding. One of the best students--my last appointment today--said that she wants the hand-holding, not just from me but from all her professors. I know it's because they want to do well and are frightened as hell that they won't, or can't, but really: they have to stand on their own at some point, and now's the time.
On a different note, I met with the plagiarist from the online class. She started with a question that actually I couldn't answer: she asked if the second instance of plagiarism had been submitted before I sent her the email about the first one. She absolutely admitted that she had plagiarized and that it was stupid, but she was right: the second instance may have actually been virtually synchronous with the first. In any event, I gave her the benefit of the doubt--and we talked about how she can actually do some learning instead of going for the quick fix. I told her I'd be watching her work very intently from now on, and she gets it. (I also got a strange call from one of the administrators; I'd included the Dean of Students as a recipient of the email in which I said something to the student--so I had to explain that, no, I wouldn't be filing the formal paper work and no, there wasn't further action to be taken. Clearly the woman I spoke to had no interest in an involved conversation, which is completely understandable. "So I'll just ignore this," she said and signed off. Yep. Fair enough.)
I'm once again running behind on getting responses to the Nature in Lit students, and I'm getting behind on homework for the SF students. But tomorrow I really have to put most of my time and energy--around the department meeting (on how to handle an active shooter situation, about which I have very mixed feelings) and two student conferences before P&B. So, it will be an early morning--well, early for a Tuesday/Thursday.
And now I have to hustle off to get to physical therapy. Buh-byeee.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Well, that was a grind...
I just finished grading the last of the 101 essays for the students I'll meet on Monday. I only have one essay to grade for Tuesday (because Mr. Can't Follow the Rules didn't submit his), and only three for Wednesday, so this was the big push.
And it was a hell of a push. Jesus God, what a slog. I'm interested to do a little mental correction: in actual fact, of the eight I graded (seven today), they were pretty evenly split between the relatively decent and the deeply problematic. Three were stream-of-consciousness bilge; one was neat and clean and said absolutely nothing. But even the ones that were relatively decent were problematic in various ways. One had no focus; one was 89% report (no argument; two were ... good. Still needed focus, and one needed to have a little more support for her case, but those were infinitely more palatable than the other four. I really feel a bit bad about the young man who wrote the one that was point precise and meaningless: he's trying very hard, but he really has a hard time thinking beyond the most superficial generalizations. I know he wants to get deeper; he is almost desperate to be a good student, and he will, by God, do whatever he can to improve--but there isn't much I can do to help him think better except to keep on challenging him, and I know that's going to get very frustrating and painful for him in a big hurry.
As I just said on Facebook, a lot of these students came into my class straight from the "Basic Education Program"--which, as I think I've explained, exists for students who fail their placement tests in all three areas (math, reading, writing)--and a lot of the students in BEP shouldn't have passed first grade, never mind graduated high school. My students aren't that bad--they are at least marginally literate. But there are three ways students can get into Comp 1: they can test directly in; they can pass one of the English department's developmental writing classes (either working on ESL issues--030--or working on basic writing issues--001); or they can be placed in by the teachers in BEP. I can't always tell the difference between students who went through 001 and those who placed directly in, but man can I tell the students who came through BEP.
I think the issue is, the BEP folks are so used to dealing with really profound problems that what looks pretty crappy to me probably looks damned good to them, in comparison with what they're usually working with. Paul and I discovered a bit of that ourselves: his standards are in some ways much higher than mine, but he's consistently been teaching 102, and I've consistently been teaching 101. I've had to let go of a lot of expectations because students simply cannot get there right away. I can keep my standards high at the end of the semester (though not as high as they used to be), but I need to be pretty patient getting the students to the end point. But this lot: unusually dreadful. It's taking me forever to grade these things. If it were later in the term, I'd have more of a "well, you can't do it; I'm sorry" attitude. But this is their first essay, and I want to give them guidance so they can at least try to improve. But I may end up with four students by the end of the term...
I also need to confess that I very nearly bailed on the entire endeavor earlier today. I was feeling sluggish and frustrated and out of kilter--and if I'd really had to somehow postpone everyone's conference, I could have done it. But I managed to metaphorically pull my socks up and keep on slugging.
I'm finishing up much later than I'd have hoped--no surprise there--and I really do need to make at least a quick grocery run (and try to stave off the desperate desire for chocolate). But man am I toast. Toast is me. Oy.
And it was a hell of a push. Jesus God, what a slog. I'm interested to do a little mental correction: in actual fact, of the eight I graded (seven today), they were pretty evenly split between the relatively decent and the deeply problematic. Three were stream-of-consciousness bilge; one was neat and clean and said absolutely nothing. But even the ones that were relatively decent were problematic in various ways. One had no focus; one was 89% report (no argument; two were ... good. Still needed focus, and one needed to have a little more support for her case, but those were infinitely more palatable than the other four. I really feel a bit bad about the young man who wrote the one that was point precise and meaningless: he's trying very hard, but he really has a hard time thinking beyond the most superficial generalizations. I know he wants to get deeper; he is almost desperate to be a good student, and he will, by God, do whatever he can to improve--but there isn't much I can do to help him think better except to keep on challenging him, and I know that's going to get very frustrating and painful for him in a big hurry.
As I just said on Facebook, a lot of these students came into my class straight from the "Basic Education Program"--which, as I think I've explained, exists for students who fail their placement tests in all three areas (math, reading, writing)--and a lot of the students in BEP shouldn't have passed first grade, never mind graduated high school. My students aren't that bad--they are at least marginally literate. But there are three ways students can get into Comp 1: they can test directly in; they can pass one of the English department's developmental writing classes (either working on ESL issues--030--or working on basic writing issues--001); or they can be placed in by the teachers in BEP. I can't always tell the difference between students who went through 001 and those who placed directly in, but man can I tell the students who came through BEP.
I think the issue is, the BEP folks are so used to dealing with really profound problems that what looks pretty crappy to me probably looks damned good to them, in comparison with what they're usually working with. Paul and I discovered a bit of that ourselves: his standards are in some ways much higher than mine, but he's consistently been teaching 102, and I've consistently been teaching 101. I've had to let go of a lot of expectations because students simply cannot get there right away. I can keep my standards high at the end of the semester (though not as high as they used to be), but I need to be pretty patient getting the students to the end point. But this lot: unusually dreadful. It's taking me forever to grade these things. If it were later in the term, I'd have more of a "well, you can't do it; I'm sorry" attitude. But this is their first essay, and I want to give them guidance so they can at least try to improve. But I may end up with four students by the end of the term...
I also need to confess that I very nearly bailed on the entire endeavor earlier today. I was feeling sluggish and frustrated and out of kilter--and if I'd really had to somehow postpone everyone's conference, I could have done it. But I managed to metaphorically pull my socks up and keep on slugging.
I'm finishing up much later than I'd have hoped--no surprise there--and I really do need to make at least a quick grocery run (and try to stave off the desperate desire for chocolate). But man am I toast. Toast is me. Oy.
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Essentially zero progress
So, I bailed on both yoga class and fiddle lesson today, with the full intention of getting a big chunk of those 101 essays graded and back to the students. I did one. One.
I will say that I spent a good while working on the discussion board posts for the online class--and a student who plagiarized last week did it again this week. I sent her an email telling her she was guilty of it again, and as far as I was concerned, she had failed the class, though if she wanted to come in and talk to me about it, make a case for why she should be allowed to continue in the class, she could do that. I alerted Cathy and the Dean of Students about the issue, too. I honestly don't know what this young woman is going to try to present in her defense, but I'm unlikely to want to buy it. The first time, she tried the "I didn't know I was plagiarizing" thing. I said, essentially, well, if you didn't, you do now: you need to cite your sources. Whatever the source. Doesn't matter. And if you need "help," come to me; don't go looking for stuff you can steal from online. I'm really pissed off about it, in a sort of calm way, meaning I don't feel any need to actually get angry with her, but I am not taking any excuses or justifications about how she didn't know what she was doing, or she didn't use the sources I found.... We seem to have an inner constraint these days against just saying, "That's bullshit" to students--but really, there are times when that's what probably should be said.
As for the one essay I graded: oh, God, shoot me now. Absolute, unconsidered, high-school quality, chatty, informal, stream-of-consciousness bilge. No focus, no attempt at paragraphing--one source used, sort of, but not really. I was generous and gave it a D instead of the F it deserved, but only because this is their first essay and they don't really know what the hell is expected of them yet. (Also, she's one of several of my students who came straight out of the basic education program; our experience is generally that the professors in that program are a lot more generous than we are in what they consider college-ready.)
But that was so discouraging, I stopped. I know they won't all be that terrible, but ... it was pretty dispiriting.
Meanwhile, a student from that class is getting himself into trouble by not adhering to the rules. He is overly anxious (and annoying) about wanting to turn stuff in to me; he'll walk up when I'm in the middle of doing something to give me an assignment, or to talk to me about some problem or other he's having. He registered late, and I think that panicked him a bit. He did try to make up some of the work, but now that we've gotten to the requirement that essays have to be submitted to Turnitin....
He didn't try to submit on the due date. (Points off.) I got an email from him just before midnight the next night, saying that he was having trouble using the app on his phone. I told him to contact the help desk and get the problem resolved, and that once he did, he should let me know. He emailed the essay to me (even though I told him before that I don't accept assignments by email). He said it would prove that he did the essay--but, I responded, that's not the issue. I know he'd done it, because he was there for peer review with it. What he needs to do is upload it to Turnitin, and, by being late with it, he already missed his chance at getting any comments from me. I explained--again--that if it isn't uploaded to Turnitin by midnight tonight, he'll get zero credit.
Nothing. I'm quite sure he hasn't checked his email. This is a common assumption among our students: that when they send an email, that's the end of their responsibility. They don't recognize that they have to check for a reply, as the professor may say "no" to a request, or explain something that the student needs to attend to. Nope: I sent the email; I've done my job.
Well, this will be a hard lesson for him, too. I think he's pretty smart, but he sure has to button it up and get some discipline.
And to my dismay, it turns out that my student from last semester, the young man I called Street Smart, is in Paul's 102 class--and is not taking care of business but making excuses because he's on the wrestling team. He also wanted me to read his essay for Paul because he's pretty proud of it; I'll read it (if/when I have time) but I won't say anything about it: Paul is his professor now, and he needs to do as Paul says, conform to what Paul wants of him.
Well, anyway. I have my work cut out for me tomorrow: at least seven essays to grade (more if I can manage to stay nailed to this computer long enough to do them. But that's tomorrow. Today, I'm stick-a-fork-in-me done, even though I didn't really do anything.
I will say that I spent a good while working on the discussion board posts for the online class--and a student who plagiarized last week did it again this week. I sent her an email telling her she was guilty of it again, and as far as I was concerned, she had failed the class, though if she wanted to come in and talk to me about it, make a case for why she should be allowed to continue in the class, she could do that. I alerted Cathy and the Dean of Students about the issue, too. I honestly don't know what this young woman is going to try to present in her defense, but I'm unlikely to want to buy it. The first time, she tried the "I didn't know I was plagiarizing" thing. I said, essentially, well, if you didn't, you do now: you need to cite your sources. Whatever the source. Doesn't matter. And if you need "help," come to me; don't go looking for stuff you can steal from online. I'm really pissed off about it, in a sort of calm way, meaning I don't feel any need to actually get angry with her, but I am not taking any excuses or justifications about how she didn't know what she was doing, or she didn't use the sources I found.... We seem to have an inner constraint these days against just saying, "That's bullshit" to students--but really, there are times when that's what probably should be said.
As for the one essay I graded: oh, God, shoot me now. Absolute, unconsidered, high-school quality, chatty, informal, stream-of-consciousness bilge. No focus, no attempt at paragraphing--one source used, sort of, but not really. I was generous and gave it a D instead of the F it deserved, but only because this is their first essay and they don't really know what the hell is expected of them yet. (Also, she's one of several of my students who came straight out of the basic education program; our experience is generally that the professors in that program are a lot more generous than we are in what they consider college-ready.)
But that was so discouraging, I stopped. I know they won't all be that terrible, but ... it was pretty dispiriting.
Meanwhile, a student from that class is getting himself into trouble by not adhering to the rules. He is overly anxious (and annoying) about wanting to turn stuff in to me; he'll walk up when I'm in the middle of doing something to give me an assignment, or to talk to me about some problem or other he's having. He registered late, and I think that panicked him a bit. He did try to make up some of the work, but now that we've gotten to the requirement that essays have to be submitted to Turnitin....
He didn't try to submit on the due date. (Points off.) I got an email from him just before midnight the next night, saying that he was having trouble using the app on his phone. I told him to contact the help desk and get the problem resolved, and that once he did, he should let me know. He emailed the essay to me (even though I told him before that I don't accept assignments by email). He said it would prove that he did the essay--but, I responded, that's not the issue. I know he'd done it, because he was there for peer review with it. What he needs to do is upload it to Turnitin, and, by being late with it, he already missed his chance at getting any comments from me. I explained--again--that if it isn't uploaded to Turnitin by midnight tonight, he'll get zero credit.
Nothing. I'm quite sure he hasn't checked his email. This is a common assumption among our students: that when they send an email, that's the end of their responsibility. They don't recognize that they have to check for a reply, as the professor may say "no" to a request, or explain something that the student needs to attend to. Nope: I sent the email; I've done my job.
Well, this will be a hard lesson for him, too. I think he's pretty smart, but he sure has to button it up and get some discipline.
And to my dismay, it turns out that my student from last semester, the young man I called Street Smart, is in Paul's 102 class--and is not taking care of business but making excuses because he's on the wrestling team. He also wanted me to read his essay for Paul because he's pretty proud of it; I'll read it (if/when I have time) but I won't say anything about it: Paul is his professor now, and he needs to do as Paul says, conform to what Paul wants of him.
Well, anyway. I have my work cut out for me tomorrow: at least seven essays to grade (more if I can manage to stay nailed to this computer long enough to do them. But that's tomorrow. Today, I'm stick-a-fork-in-me done, even though I didn't really do anything.
Thursday, February 8, 2018
Zippy-quick
I want to get to a yoga class tonight, so this is going to be very fast and very short.
Spent a good bit of the day getting caught up on homework for the SF class--but had it done in enough time that I could slam out the letter of support for the person I'm mentoring for promotion. I haven't gone over her file yet--or anyone else's (that will be after I see the last 101 student on Monday), but ... progress is being made.
Until more stuff gets added on to the tail of the list, as usual.
Class was fine. More people contributed, which was great, and some good ideas came up. I'm really loving these guys. But I was very unhappy that two students--including one who was in a 102 with me ages ago--plagiarized their homework. My former student was absent today, too, so that's an unpleasant confrontation still waiting. Ah well. The other student didn't say a word to me; he just left, as usual. And the student who bailed on the class last semester got another warning from me: if he doesn't start doing work that actually can pass, well, he won't.
But the good ones are so good, they kinda make up for the rest.
I must now dash. I may post over the weekend, when I'm grading essays for the 101. Or not. All I can think now is "four more teaching days, and then a break." Man, I need that break. Even if I spend part of it working.
Spent a good bit of the day getting caught up on homework for the SF class--but had it done in enough time that I could slam out the letter of support for the person I'm mentoring for promotion. I haven't gone over her file yet--or anyone else's (that will be after I see the last 101 student on Monday), but ... progress is being made.
Until more stuff gets added on to the tail of the list, as usual.
Class was fine. More people contributed, which was great, and some good ideas came up. I'm really loving these guys. But I was very unhappy that two students--including one who was in a 102 with me ages ago--plagiarized their homework. My former student was absent today, too, so that's an unpleasant confrontation still waiting. Ah well. The other student didn't say a word to me; he just left, as usual. And the student who bailed on the class last semester got another warning from me: if he doesn't start doing work that actually can pass, well, he won't.
But the good ones are so good, they kinda make up for the rest.
I must now dash. I may post over the weekend, when I'm grading essays for the 101. Or not. All I can think now is "four more teaching days, and then a break." Man, I need that break. Even if I spend part of it working.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Already falling behind...
I keep losing track of what I decided to do in terms of triage; I was working on homework for the SF class and my brain seized up, so I transitioned to catching up on the Nature in Lit (at which point I thought, "Oh, yeah; I was going to do that first"). But I'm falling behind on P&B business, too: a "diversity training" thingy I have to sit through (one of those automated classes a little like the online defensive driving classes, for which--as long as you allow the timer enough time on each page, you could easily be doing something else entirely and paying virtually no attention), but more pressing, evaluating the promotion applications for associate and full . I think there are only three of them, but I am mentoring one of the applicants, so it behooves me to go over hers with the proverbial comb--and I do have to write the support letter for her application. I'm sure there's other shit I'm forgetting too.
I keep getting distracted by the desire to do some hunting around for information about various things, sometimes having nothing to do with work, though periodically I start hunting for critical material for the Nature in Lit students to use on essay 2--and to narrow down essay topics for the final one. One of the librarians, a wonderful colleague, has agreed to try to construct a LibGuide for the class: a LibGuide is a focused presence on the Library's web site that trims away a lot of information students don't need for the present moment and allows them to focus on what they need for the specific research assignment they have to do. The 101 students now have their own, which helps them with each of the three topics. Ages ago she created one on Left Hand of Darkness, when I taught it in 102; I'll refer my SF students to it for their final essay (as well as referring them to the materials I produced on sabbatical). Having one for Nature in Lit would be great, but I do feel more than a little embarrassed that I don't really have clear topics in mind yet.
Well, Presidents' Week is coming soon, and I can spend it noodling around with that stuff (around all the life maintenance that I'm cramming into that week).
Today I did bail on Advisement; my body kindly manufactured a bit of a sore throat, which was excuse enough to turn off the alarm, roll over, and try to get some more sleep. It was quite lovely to just sit in the office and do whatever I was doing, not being interrupted at random moments: "Can you work with a student?" "Can you see someone?" "Are you ready?" At least the folks at the front desk are asking; it drives me nuts when they just send someone to me. (There I am, looking intently at whatever work I'm doing, and I suddenly become aware of a hovering presence over my left shoulder: Eeks! A student!)
And class was ... well, nothing much. I think I may have lost four students out of the twenty on my roster. A few more were not in class today but probably will reappear with their essays at some point. I'll try to remember to check for uploads tomorrow (the deadline is before midnight tonight); as it's the first essay, I may email the students who are late, reminding them of the penalties.
Meanwhile, it is a dismal, rainy, cold day, and would have been perfect for curling up on the sofa to write, read, drink tea, nap. But getting out of the house is a good thing, generally speaking--and now that I've got "retire ASAP" on the brain, I want to save those sick days (as I get paid for 75% of those days when I go; if I could make it to a full 20 years, I'd get 100%--but that seems vanishingly unlikely).
Oh: and here's something. Today I wanted to find something on the web about clichés, why they're problematic, to post for the Nature in Lit students. I saw something from Oxford and thought, "Oh, that will be good." The first example cliché? "We're still as sick as a parrot about the result." Really? That's a cliché we've heard to death? Only the Brits, man. And all I can think now is the Monty Python sketch (in which the parrot, of course, is neither sick nor dead, just pining for the fjords).
But next time there's a P&B meeting like yesterday's, I know what I'll say: "I'm just sick as a parrot about this."
I keep getting distracted by the desire to do some hunting around for information about various things, sometimes having nothing to do with work, though periodically I start hunting for critical material for the Nature in Lit students to use on essay 2--and to narrow down essay topics for the final one. One of the librarians, a wonderful colleague, has agreed to try to construct a LibGuide for the class: a LibGuide is a focused presence on the Library's web site that trims away a lot of information students don't need for the present moment and allows them to focus on what they need for the specific research assignment they have to do. The 101 students now have their own, which helps them with each of the three topics. Ages ago she created one on Left Hand of Darkness, when I taught it in 102; I'll refer my SF students to it for their final essay (as well as referring them to the materials I produced on sabbatical). Having one for Nature in Lit would be great, but I do feel more than a little embarrassed that I don't really have clear topics in mind yet.
Well, Presidents' Week is coming soon, and I can spend it noodling around with that stuff (around all the life maintenance that I'm cramming into that week).
Today I did bail on Advisement; my body kindly manufactured a bit of a sore throat, which was excuse enough to turn off the alarm, roll over, and try to get some more sleep. It was quite lovely to just sit in the office and do whatever I was doing, not being interrupted at random moments: "Can you work with a student?" "Can you see someone?" "Are you ready?" At least the folks at the front desk are asking; it drives me nuts when they just send someone to me. (There I am, looking intently at whatever work I'm doing, and I suddenly become aware of a hovering presence over my left shoulder: Eeks! A student!)
And class was ... well, nothing much. I think I may have lost four students out of the twenty on my roster. A few more were not in class today but probably will reappear with their essays at some point. I'll try to remember to check for uploads tomorrow (the deadline is before midnight tonight); as it's the first essay, I may email the students who are late, reminding them of the penalties.
Meanwhile, it is a dismal, rainy, cold day, and would have been perfect for curling up on the sofa to write, read, drink tea, nap. But getting out of the house is a good thing, generally speaking--and now that I've got "retire ASAP" on the brain, I want to save those sick days (as I get paid for 75% of those days when I go; if I could make it to a full 20 years, I'd get 100%--but that seems vanishingly unlikely).
Oh: and here's something. Today I wanted to find something on the web about clichés, why they're problematic, to post for the Nature in Lit students. I saw something from Oxford and thought, "Oh, that will be good." The first example cliché? "We're still as sick as a parrot about the result." Really? That's a cliché we've heard to death? Only the Brits, man. And all I can think now is the Monty Python sketch (in which the parrot, of course, is neither sick nor dead, just pining for the fjords).
But next time there's a P&B meeting like yesterday's, I know what I'll say: "I'm just sick as a parrot about this."
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Saved by my students
I am continually, perpetually grateful for the SF class. My personal life is the shits right now, and we had a brutal P&B meeting, in which Cathy detailed all the insane decisions that are being rammed down our throats by a clueless administration--or that may be rammed down our throats, anyway; we're still fighting, though Cathy said she wasn't sure whether it was more ethical to resign as chair of one of key college-wide committees she's on or whether to stay in there and fight what may turn out to be multiple losing battles. I should find mordant humor in it, which is Paul's coping technique (it truly is ridiculous; could be presented as is on stage as farce). Instead, I kept tearing up--and when the meeting was over, I came back to the office and cried. I had to pull my socks up, metaphorically speaking, as I had to go teach, but there was a moment there when I simply had to break down--just for a moment.
Cathy saw that I was on the verge of tears and said, "Don't cry; it isn't worth it." She's right, of course--except this is not just what I do; this is who I am. Everything I hold most worthy is being eviscerated; everything I take pride in having become is being treated as meaningless. I don't know how Paul survived his two years in the belly of this particular beast. In today's meeting--which was just a report on the debacle, not actually having to try to slug it out, which Cathy has to do, repeatedly--all I could think was, "I have to get out of here." I didn't mean the meeting, either: I meant all of it. This job, this career, this location. Tell Cathy I resign, effective immediately, pack up my apartment, find a nice rental in Montana and move.
Yesterday, I was ferociously cranky at the start of class--exacerbated by the fact that I logged off the computer, certain I'd be able to log back on to show students everything I wanted to show them, only to find that I could not, in fact, log on, and neither could my students. (OK, so reboot and do everything on the blackboard, which is what I used to do--but students are so incredibly visual, I know it didn't land as well as it would have.) The class ended up going fine, once I got into it and calmed down a bit, but it was all I could do not to throw things and swear.
Today, I was a bit afraid I'd be similarly cranky, but as I was walking down the hall toward the class, I heard the buzz of conversation. They weren't all in their own little worlds on their phones; they were talking to each other--some of them even talking about the reading. The groups went well, too. I was a bit concerned, as one group had two of the very brightest young men in it but in the past one of them (I'll have to find a moniker for him) had rolled his eyes at something the Brilliant Brit was saying, and I was afraid there was some antipathy there. But it seems not. In fact, if I remember correctly, the two of them were part of a small group who were talking before I arrived (about the Han Solo movie, I think).
Of course, as soon as I left the classroom, some of the weight of unhappiness settled on my shoulders again--but only some of it. I don't feel--at the moment anyway--the need to bolt for the escape hatch.
The online Nature in Lit is getting a bit more bumpy; students are rather falling down on the posting (or on posting on time at any rate). Whatever else I do in the next day or two, I do need to grade all their posts from last week. I have P&B stuff to do, too, which I keep blissfully forgetting, and the usual attempt to keep on top of the student assignments. But the online course needs to come first. My personal life derailed the usual weekend work on the class, so I need to get myself caught up before things snowball for me, never mind for the students.
I am spectacularly tired, too--more than the usual lack of sleep having its toll on me. I may end up bailing on Advisement tomorrow, though it's early in the semester for that solution to be required. Tomorrow, I get first versions of essays from the 101 students. Most of the conferences are on Monday, so it will be a busy weekend with that--but unless some students who have gone AWOL suddenly materialize tomorrow (unlikely), after Monday I'll have very little to do. Apparently, somewhere between three and six students were so daunted that they've already bailed on the class--which leaves me with fourteen in the class, of whom several were absent yesterday, when I distributed the conference sign-up. I think I may refuse Monday appointments to anyone who wasn't in class yesterday...
I'm sure there's more to be said (isn't there always?) but I see the wall approaching at an alarming speed. I have things packed up so I can go straight to Advisement tomorrow, without having to stop in the office. (I've been running a bit late these days, so I'm trying to compensate.) I have to do a little life maintenance. I have to get home and start winding down so I have a chance at getting some sleep.
And tomorrow is, as we all know all too well, not today but another one.
Cathy saw that I was on the verge of tears and said, "Don't cry; it isn't worth it." She's right, of course--except this is not just what I do; this is who I am. Everything I hold most worthy is being eviscerated; everything I take pride in having become is being treated as meaningless. I don't know how Paul survived his two years in the belly of this particular beast. In today's meeting--which was just a report on the debacle, not actually having to try to slug it out, which Cathy has to do, repeatedly--all I could think was, "I have to get out of here." I didn't mean the meeting, either: I meant all of it. This job, this career, this location. Tell Cathy I resign, effective immediately, pack up my apartment, find a nice rental in Montana and move.
Yesterday, I was ferociously cranky at the start of class--exacerbated by the fact that I logged off the computer, certain I'd be able to log back on to show students everything I wanted to show them, only to find that I could not, in fact, log on, and neither could my students. (OK, so reboot and do everything on the blackboard, which is what I used to do--but students are so incredibly visual, I know it didn't land as well as it would have.) The class ended up going fine, once I got into it and calmed down a bit, but it was all I could do not to throw things and swear.
Today, I was a bit afraid I'd be similarly cranky, but as I was walking down the hall toward the class, I heard the buzz of conversation. They weren't all in their own little worlds on their phones; they were talking to each other--some of them even talking about the reading. The groups went well, too. I was a bit concerned, as one group had two of the very brightest young men in it but in the past one of them (I'll have to find a moniker for him) had rolled his eyes at something the Brilliant Brit was saying, and I was afraid there was some antipathy there. But it seems not. In fact, if I remember correctly, the two of them were part of a small group who were talking before I arrived (about the Han Solo movie, I think).
Of course, as soon as I left the classroom, some of the weight of unhappiness settled on my shoulders again--but only some of it. I don't feel--at the moment anyway--the need to bolt for the escape hatch.
The online Nature in Lit is getting a bit more bumpy; students are rather falling down on the posting (or on posting on time at any rate). Whatever else I do in the next day or two, I do need to grade all their posts from last week. I have P&B stuff to do, too, which I keep blissfully forgetting, and the usual attempt to keep on top of the student assignments. But the online course needs to come first. My personal life derailed the usual weekend work on the class, so I need to get myself caught up before things snowball for me, never mind for the students.
I am spectacularly tired, too--more than the usual lack of sleep having its toll on me. I may end up bailing on Advisement tomorrow, though it's early in the semester for that solution to be required. Tomorrow, I get first versions of essays from the 101 students. Most of the conferences are on Monday, so it will be a busy weekend with that--but unless some students who have gone AWOL suddenly materialize tomorrow (unlikely), after Monday I'll have very little to do. Apparently, somewhere between three and six students were so daunted that they've already bailed on the class--which leaves me with fourteen in the class, of whom several were absent yesterday, when I distributed the conference sign-up. I think I may refuse Monday appointments to anyone who wasn't in class yesterday...
I'm sure there's more to be said (isn't there always?) but I see the wall approaching at an alarming speed. I have things packed up so I can go straight to Advisement tomorrow, without having to stop in the office. (I've been running a bit late these days, so I'm trying to compensate.) I have to do a little life maintenance. I have to get home and start winding down so I have a chance at getting some sleep.
And tomorrow is, as we all know all too well, not today but another one.
Monday, February 5, 2018
A two-minute post
Two student encounters today, very different but both in some way gratifying.
A student in the 101 class had to get up and leave, as she started to cry when I was talking about their essays (due Wednesday). I said, "You're going to make mistakes. That's OK; it's my job to help you fix them. Have you hear the expression 'fail forward'? You're not going to fail, but you will make mistakes--and that's good as that's when learning happens." She had told me on the first day that the idea of writing petrifies her; she came back into the classroom toward the end, but I had to sit with her and talk her through a panic attack, trying to get her to breathe slowly and evenly. It helped, but she's a mess. I hope she comes to talk with me tomorrow, as she said she wanted to.
I'd forgotten that I had a mentoring appointment with a student from the SF class. He's one of the ones whose photo was deceptive: he's tremendously bright and well read. He didn't have any particular topic in mind for our meeting today; I think he just wanted to hang out and talk. He started by asking how I was doing--he's the one who expressed empathy over my feelings when Le Guin died--and although my emotional state is worse now (for reasons having to do with my personal life), I didn't want to get into it with him, so I made a noncommittal answer and quickly shifted the attention over to him. I did talk about myself and my life outside of my professional world, but nothing very revelatory. I finally had to chase him out so I could write this post and hustle off to PT.
But I do love those one-on-one meetings with students. They're one of the best parts of my job, as I've said repeatedly in this blog.
Now I have to deal with traffic and get to PT. I hope I have time for a more substantive post tomorrow.
A student in the 101 class had to get up and leave, as she started to cry when I was talking about their essays (due Wednesday). I said, "You're going to make mistakes. That's OK; it's my job to help you fix them. Have you hear the expression 'fail forward'? You're not going to fail, but you will make mistakes--and that's good as that's when learning happens." She had told me on the first day that the idea of writing petrifies her; she came back into the classroom toward the end, but I had to sit with her and talk her through a panic attack, trying to get her to breathe slowly and evenly. It helped, but she's a mess. I hope she comes to talk with me tomorrow, as she said she wanted to.
I'd forgotten that I had a mentoring appointment with a student from the SF class. He's one of the ones whose photo was deceptive: he's tremendously bright and well read. He didn't have any particular topic in mind for our meeting today; I think he just wanted to hang out and talk. He started by asking how I was doing--he's the one who expressed empathy over my feelings when Le Guin died--and although my emotional state is worse now (for reasons having to do with my personal life), I didn't want to get into it with him, so I made a noncommittal answer and quickly shifted the attention over to him. I did talk about myself and my life outside of my professional world, but nothing very revelatory. I finally had to chase him out so I could write this post and hustle off to PT.
But I do love those one-on-one meetings with students. They're one of the best parts of my job, as I've said repeatedly in this blog.
Now I have to deal with traffic and get to PT. I hope I have time for a more substantive post tomorrow.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Sums it up
One of the best and brightest in the SF class turns out to be a stream-of-consciousness writer--no structure and starts on a riff that he just follows wherever it leads, and tends to write lots of run-on sentences as well--but here's something he wrote that explains why he's one of the best and brightest:
"My goal for this semester is to use this English class as a buffer between myself and my cellphone. I want to read more pages in books than emails or texts by the end of the year."
There you have it: students who actually like to read.
Not all of them do, of course: a number of the students confessed to rather hating to read for various reasons--but all of them were excited about, or at least cheerfully challenged by, the prospect of the reading in this course. A bit daunted, in some cases--but several students said that they truly wanted to reestablish a love of reading that they'd lost, and that already the assignments and approach in the class were igniting their interest.
Ahhhh. The sigh of a contented professor--even if the contentment is only momentary. I'll still take it.
Whatever else I might have had to report has just flown out of my head, so I'll make this a brief post. Perhaps there will be more over the weekend.
"My goal for this semester is to use this English class as a buffer between myself and my cellphone. I want to read more pages in books than emails or texts by the end of the year."
There you have it: students who actually like to read.
Not all of them do, of course: a number of the students confessed to rather hating to read for various reasons--but all of them were excited about, or at least cheerfully challenged by, the prospect of the reading in this course. A bit daunted, in some cases--but several students said that they truly wanted to reestablish a love of reading that they'd lost, and that already the assignments and approach in the class were igniting their interest.
Ahhhh. The sigh of a contented professor--even if the contentment is only momentary. I'll still take it.
Whatever else I might have had to report has just flown out of my head, so I'll make this a brief post. Perhaps there will be more over the weekend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
