Going down in flames...

I've started tallying the preliminary numbers for the 101 students, and I've already found two whose points are so low they really can't pass. I don't know why I feel guilty about not letting them know earlier, but every time this happens, I do feel guilty--even though I very clearly told them it's their job to track their marks, and if they fall below a certain number that they should see me
ASAP. But they don't. So I've suggested to two of them that they withdraw.

What I'm realizing is that my own students are victims of the fallacy that tripped up the student I saw in Advisement: they still have the high school mentality that homework "doesn't count"--or that if they just keep trying, they'll magically pass. A student showed up for his conference today, and I expected him to pull out a withdrawal form, as last week I had told him in no uncertain terms that he can't pass. I asked him why he'd brought an essay, and he said he wanted to keep trying. So I ran the numbers for him. He'd need a minimum of about 1,000 points to be within shouting range of squeaking out a D. He had something like 475 points. I may be exaggerating slightly, but the point remains that even if he'd gotten top marks on everything else that remains (which isn't much), he couldn't earn enough points to get close to the D. I explained to him that when professors say "You can't pass," we really mean, "You can't pass." I explained again about the advantage of a W, and the futility of his putting in more effort--or my spending time to comment on an essay--when the end result would still be an F. He finally got the picture, so I gave him a withdrawal form on the spot. I hope he remembers to take it to the Registrar. I did tell him he needs to, but they often forget that step.

Two students who had arranged to have conferences with me today suddenly couldn't make it, so I've told them they have to sign the contract about the change in grade policy. Of the 101 students, I actually met with two out of five who had scheduled appointments. (One simply didn't get here on time--which has been a problem for her all semester.) I did, however, see a student from the 102 class, who wanted some guidance before he wrote his essay--and I'm glad he got it, as he was all set to write a very generic essay about the "plight" of Native Americans in general and forget that he has to focus on the novel. I think he gets it now.

But Mom wrote me an email that was clearly venting. She wrote over the weekend asking me a zillion questions, and I clarified. She's been bitching about not having enough time to develop this challenging project (though she got the assignment sheet two weeks ago), and she keeps wanting to get into a sort of "racial determinism" argument--that the character follows another because Indians are natural hunters sort of thing--and I keep telling her no. I also am trying to explain that she needs to keep it simple and focused and not follow every rabbit trail. So today, I got this. I'm changing some of the language, to protect her identity at least a little, but this is the gist:

"I've been reading, and thinking about the topics, and I'm getting nowhere. I can't prove an argument without the kind of research I want to do using a general web search [rather than the databases]. I don't like how this makes me feel--and I'm putting all this wasted time and energy into this assignment and neglecting my family as a consequence. I'll try to respond to one of your suggestions, but it feels like it just leads me to a bunch of general observations and not an argument. If the topic were more clear and neatly lined up for me, I could do it, but this assignment is just the worst I've ever gotten as a student. I'm not having fun, and I'm not being productive. I'll keep on being terrible to my family and just hope that this is all over by the deadline tomorrow."

She might as well have ended with what another student said to me once: "Thanks for ruining college for me."

I came very close to sending her an email that said, "I understand that you are frustrated, but don't dump it on my doorstep. It's not my fault if you are choosing to slight your family to do your school work, nor is it my fault that you find the assignment challenging. You want this to be a math equation, but it isn't: it's a literature assignment. Stop trying to guilt trip me about how miserable you are. This is college. Suck it up." Fortunately, a wiser impulse arose, and all I told her was that I can't help her with her family but I will try to help her with the essay. However, I explained, finding a focus, finding an argument, is precisely what she needs to learn to do. That's the actual thing that the course is designed to teach her, so if she can't do it, she hasn't gotten out of the class what she needs to get out of it.

A whole bunch of things annoy me about this. One, I hate it when adults get whiny like kids (and she's every bit as bad as her daughter right now; I can see where the daughter gets the snotty attitude). Two, at the start of the semester she complained about the fact that things aren't set up in nice, clear, fill-in-the blanks and solve for X formats--and although I thought she understood the fact that not all disciplines work that way, apparently she still thinks the class should be easier--because, of course, she's a good student, so she shouldn't be struggling.

We have a conference on Thursday; it will be interesting to see how she reacts then. I sort of feel she owes me an apology, though I doubt I'll get it. I may suggest to her--gently--that she might think twice before she hits "send": venting to a professor, especially suggesting there is something wrong with the professor and the assignments, is not a great strategy, on any number of levels. Not only does it have a tendency to piss the professor off, it also tends to derail any desire on the part of the professor to provide constructive help.

Ah well. Whatever.

So, here at the bitter end, I may end up seeing the usual kind of double-digit attrition I usually see, and I may get the kind of "let me slam the professor now that the class is over" "self" evaluations I have often gotten in the past. And yes, if I get any snotty feedback from Mom or Daughter at the end of the semester, I'm half tempted to tell them about the student who said "thanks for ruining college for me" and then say, "it's because of students like you that I am retiring early; thanks for ruining my career for me." I won't, of course--not because I'm a bigger person than that but because I do still care about my professional reputation. But it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, I have to say. And this class was so great for most of the semester. Mr. Hyde seems to be making an appearance, now that the stress is on.

Shifting gears, the colleague I am mentoring for promotion has been hit with one disaster after another, so I don't know if I'll have a chance to look at her application again before I am no longer a member of P&B. Other than that--and one last set of minutes--I believe I have fulfilled the remaindr of my responsibilities.

Advisement was a steady stream of students. One seemed completely disengaged until I said something to him about whether he needed to be somewhere else. He said he was just really tired. I asked whether he could soak in what I was saying, and then he became much more alert--and the difference in affect was astounding. He went from seeming like a borderline hostile lump to seeming like a young man who truly wants to do well. Another kid wanted me to do his schedule. I explained I wouldn't do that, but I could talk to him about how to make it and make suggestions about which classes to take. He didn't seem to want to do any of that--but then it turned out that both his mom and the friend who was giving him a ride home were hounding him. I gently suggested he come back when he had enough time to actually get the information he needs. But mostly it was just the usual drill. Turning the crank, as my dad would have said.

Tomorrow should be pretty easy: first Advisement, then I'll show up for the 102 to talk to whoever decides to come, then I'll hold a few conferences. That will be it. And now, I'm going to take my aching head and weary body home for a quiet night.