The pushmepullu of burnout versus amount of work

I did the proofreading, which was easy.

I went through the homework for the 101, which was only difficult because it was so discouraging. If I were to give the students the grades I honestly think they deserve, most would not be passing. And there isn't anything I can do about it. I was going to say there isn't anything I can do about it at this stage in the semester, but really, there isn't anything I can do about it, period.

They do not know how to read, understand, think, write. I keep saying it, but I have to keep re-realizing it, apparently; hard to believe just how profound the problem is.

Having dealt with the 101, I didn't have it in me to wade through the remaining essays for the SF class. One or two may be reasonably OK, but mostly, it's just a more advanced version of the same wade through that I do.

I've been thinking about my handouts, though. I need to just dictate, not explain. Don't do this. Don't do that. Do this. Do that. They still won't understand what I mean (like the 101 students who read a handout that clearly said "don't summarize" and then, when I asked them what they should do, said "summarize"). They absolutely cannot believe that what they've been doing all along no longer is going to cut it.

Yeah, I need to retire. I can feel the effect of the burnout not only on myself but on my interactions with them. I'm starting to vacillate between "oh, fuck, I don't care, whatever" and "the fucking ingrates, I'll show their asses." Neither of which is a beneficial approach to teaching.

Ach, enough griping. The days are getting longer, and what remains of the semester is getting shorter. Life is fine. A bit beige at the moment, but fine. I'll take beige.