The day got shot full of them. I played hooky yesterday to get caught up on paper grading and got in a good whack at it, but I needed to do the same today--and it didn't happen. I don't know what happened at home this morning that got me here later than I intended (OK, well, I did reset the alarm but even beyond that, it took me way more than my usual time to get from bed to office). Then on top of whatever happened there, I had to talk to Bruce about that student complaint, which took longer than I anticipated, and then in the office I kept uncovering things I had to take care of, and then a colleague dropped by with a work question and we got chatting--which was great; it was a blast talking with her, but that ate up a bunch more time... and so it went.
Bottom line: I had planned to hang out with another friend tomorrow after work, but I've had to ask for a reschedule: I'm going to have to get in early and still will need to use every second of the afternoon that I can grab after I finish teaching my one class and observing a colleague. I'd even cancel my scheduled private dance lesson at 7:30, except A) I know by then I'll have hit a serious wall anyway, won't be working productively any more, and B) with any luck at all, I'll manage to finish before I hit the wall, or at least get close enough that I can polish off the last few papers during my office hour on Thursday.
Speaking of that office hour, one of my students in Native American Lit sent me an e-mail today asking when he could come by with his withdrawal slip--and I'm going to do everything I can to talk him out of it. He's a real asset to the class: good readings, intelligent comments, personable. He may need to withdraw for reasons having nothing to do with the class itself, which I fully understand, but I hope to hell I can persuade him to stay--for his own benefit and for the benefit of the rest of the class. Without him, we're down to six students. Fortunately, they're six great students, but still. Even one more would be a boon.
Two of the young women from that class stayed after to ask my advice about what degrees they should strive for, what makes sense in terms of majors and further degrees. I love when they feel they can talk to me about that kind of thing: mentoring these young people is one of my favorite parts of my job. Any work I can do one-on-one with the better minds--or even the more dedicated students--is manna.
Today's 102 went fine. The students did pretty well with the poetry, and the joking around and getting silly is building in that bunch. I always take that as a good sign: they're relaxing and getting comfortable with me and with each other. They're better at poetry analysis than they think they are, when they work at it. Pretty cool. I loved when one of the students who has struggled to this point asked if she could keep her reading journals so she could start working on her paper: she wanted her notes to refer to. Absolutely! I'm thrilled she's already getting going with the writing, and delighted she's finding the reading journal valuable to her process. That's the point, after all.
So, that was the day. Now, I'm going to eat a little dinner before I head off to dance class. I can feel the wall looming, so it's unlikely that I'll get even one more paper graded with what's left of tonight, but hope springs eternal. Daylight savings time is helpful: the fact that it's still fully light out tends to keep my energy from flagging completely. Please heaven, that will help me grind through all I need to do tomorrow, too.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Interesting
First interesting moment of the day: the 4:00 102 class seemed functionally brain dead, and I was seriously not in the mood to deal with it. So I told them if they wanted to stay and do the work, fine, but if they'd prefer to go drink coffee or study for their math tests, they should go do that. One guy took me up on it (he actually did have a math test the next period). The rest looked bewildered but decided to stay. I said, OK, but you've got to do the work: I'm not doing it. There were 11 students. They sort-of did the work. But I was interested that they decided to stay. I was expecting a lot more of them to leave when I gave them the option. I wonder if their decision had anything to do with shame....
Second interesting moment: tonight was my first time fulfilling my function as evening assistant chair in terms of meeting with a student who had a complaint. I was anticipating the usual "the rules aren't fair" or "I don't agree with my grades" sort of thing. Not at all. The student's complaints were entirely legitimate: the professor is, in fact, seriously short-changing the students in terms of work they're doing, the way the class meets, and how frequently it doesn't meet. He may be very close to being in breach of contract, in fact. The student was clear, objective, had some documentation of the problems--and said that her main concern is that, given the way the semester is going, she won't be prepared for the next level because she isn't being given assignments that allow her to learn what she needs to.
The sad part is, I don't know what can be done to help her at this stage. The semester is essentially half over, so she can't get her money back; she can't transfer into another section--and even if the professor's behavior suddenly changes drastically, she still won't be as well prepared as she could (should) have been. I told her that I would check with Bruce to see what, if anything, can be done--and thanked her for bringing the problems to our attention. I also told her that the worst case would be that she would have to just grit her teeth and finish up the semester. But I can tell from her demeanor, she's the kind of student I would love to have: I can't speak to the quality of her work, not having seen anything she's written (other than her initial e-mail to Bruce, which is clear and well-constructed), but Id welcome someone with her work ethic, at least, and I am disturbed she is having such an unhappy experience. She deserves better.
So, I'll talk to Bruce about it on Monday. I've asked the student to write a formal letter about the problem to Bruce or to me: we'll see if she does. (She didn't feel comfortable with the idea of meeting with the professor and me at the same time: she's worried about possible vindictive grading, which is an understandable worry.) I also suggested that she urge other students to meet with me or to write letters: the more documentation we have of the problem, the easier it is for us to address it. But it certainly is interesting for me to handle the complaint: usually I only find out about this sort of thing when enough red flags have been raised that P&B gets called in on the matter.
Speaking of handling things, I did manage to force myself to grade a couple of revisions earlier today--and did manage to keep the marking to a minimum. I'm going to take all the rest home over the weekend, even though it's vanishingly unlikely that I'll grade even half that much. But if I can manage to crank through them quickly enough, I may astonish myself. No more for tonight, however. I just found out that any evening assistant stuff I do is by appointment only, so I don't think I need to officially sit here waiting for something to happen. Operating on that philosophy, I intend to pack up and get out of here. My typical treat for surviving until Thursday is to take myself out for dinner, usually to the same restaurant, usually to have the same thing. It lacks adventure, but it scores high on gratification. And a person can use a little of that at the end of the work week. TGIT.
Second interesting moment: tonight was my first time fulfilling my function as evening assistant chair in terms of meeting with a student who had a complaint. I was anticipating the usual "the rules aren't fair" or "I don't agree with my grades" sort of thing. Not at all. The student's complaints were entirely legitimate: the professor is, in fact, seriously short-changing the students in terms of work they're doing, the way the class meets, and how frequently it doesn't meet. He may be very close to being in breach of contract, in fact. The student was clear, objective, had some documentation of the problems--and said that her main concern is that, given the way the semester is going, she won't be prepared for the next level because she isn't being given assignments that allow her to learn what she needs to.
The sad part is, I don't know what can be done to help her at this stage. The semester is essentially half over, so she can't get her money back; she can't transfer into another section--and even if the professor's behavior suddenly changes drastically, she still won't be as well prepared as she could (should) have been. I told her that I would check with Bruce to see what, if anything, can be done--and thanked her for bringing the problems to our attention. I also told her that the worst case would be that she would have to just grit her teeth and finish up the semester. But I can tell from her demeanor, she's the kind of student I would love to have: I can't speak to the quality of her work, not having seen anything she's written (other than her initial e-mail to Bruce, which is clear and well-constructed), but Id welcome someone with her work ethic, at least, and I am disturbed she is having such an unhappy experience. She deserves better.
So, I'll talk to Bruce about it on Monday. I've asked the student to write a formal letter about the problem to Bruce or to me: we'll see if she does. (She didn't feel comfortable with the idea of meeting with the professor and me at the same time: she's worried about possible vindictive grading, which is an understandable worry.) I also suggested that she urge other students to meet with me or to write letters: the more documentation we have of the problem, the easier it is for us to address it. But it certainly is interesting for me to handle the complaint: usually I only find out about this sort of thing when enough red flags have been raised that P&B gets called in on the matter.
Speaking of handling things, I did manage to force myself to grade a couple of revisions earlier today--and did manage to keep the marking to a minimum. I'm going to take all the rest home over the weekend, even though it's vanishingly unlikely that I'll grade even half that much. But if I can manage to crank through them quickly enough, I may astonish myself. No more for tonight, however. I just found out that any evening assistant stuff I do is by appointment only, so I don't think I need to officially sit here waiting for something to happen. Operating on that philosophy, I intend to pack up and get out of here. My typical treat for surviving until Thursday is to take myself out for dinner, usually to the same restaurant, usually to have the same thing. It lacks adventure, but it scores high on gratification. And a person can use a little of that at the end of the work week. TGIT.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Another nice moment
I've been on the fence for a while about a conflict: Winona LaDuke is going to be on campus to speak on Monday, March 21--which also happens to be the day that my 102 classes have first versions of their next papers due. The procedure is for them to do peer review that day, and any corrections they make in class are considered as I grade their papers. However, my later section meets precisely when LaDuke is going to be given her presentation. Since I was one who made a pitch to bring LaDuke here, I rather hate to miss seeing her--so after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, I decided to let the students vote. I made up little ballot slips so they could decide: they could vote either to give up the peer review session and attend the LaDuke presentation, or to have the peer review but miss doing something different (and something that would connect with the fact that we just did a unit in Native American poetry). The overwhelming vote was in favor of doing the peer review. I had a feeling that would be the outcome, but I was expecting a slim majority, not the landslide vote. I'm very pleased: it tells me that they feel the process works for them, and that's beneficial feedback.
Another lovely bit about that is that I went from class directly to a meeting. As the meeting broke up, we were discussing things we have had to miss, and I mentioned the conflict, my disappointment that I'll have to miss LaDuke--but my gratification about the student vote. I was talking to one of the main librarians for the campus (and a woman who has been a powerful force in any number of committees) and an associate dean--and they both said that my students' decision was a credit to me as a professor. I was proud of that, not only because of the vote of confidence from my colleagues but also because it was coming from people who are among the movers and shakers on campus. Nice.
I had intended to get a lot more work done after that meeting, but instead I ended up talking with Paul for a good while about his process with drafts and peer review and so on, as fodder for me while I think about revamping my approach. He has a ton--excuse me, eleven bajillion--papers to grade, so I felt a little guilty for keeping him here talking about this (especially as no food or alcoholic beverages were involved), but it was helpful in my continuing cogitations on this knotty issue. I did get some work done--I completed the write-up of last week's observation (P&B business)--but I didn't get the student homeworks marked that I intended to. Plus, I had hoped to be home by now. Ah well. Barring disaster or the unforeseen, I should be able to get the homework for the first of tomorrow's classes marked in the morning before class, and the other section done during club hour--during which time I also desperately need to start grading revisions.
I truly do need to keep my desire to give feedback on a short leash when I mark those revisions. They have another paper coming up, so they need to know where they did better and where the did not--but I will drive myself into a straight-jacket and a rubber room if I give them more than the bare minimum. I've got to get these papers out of my hair for my own sanity. More to the point, they need them back so they can consider how to adjust their next papers, as they attempt to avoid making the same mistakes.
I do have to say, it was lovely to sleep as long as I needed to this morning and to wake up without the alarm clock. My mood is still not as stable (and upbeat) as I'd prefer, but getting sufficient sleep is a boon. But speaking of mood stabilization, it's time to begin to haul my brains out of this mode and start letting go of the anxieties of the day. Cleansing breath, ommmm, ommmmm, ommmmm....
Another lovely bit about that is that I went from class directly to a meeting. As the meeting broke up, we were discussing things we have had to miss, and I mentioned the conflict, my disappointment that I'll have to miss LaDuke--but my gratification about the student vote. I was talking to one of the main librarians for the campus (and a woman who has been a powerful force in any number of committees) and an associate dean--and they both said that my students' decision was a credit to me as a professor. I was proud of that, not only because of the vote of confidence from my colleagues but also because it was coming from people who are among the movers and shakers on campus. Nice.
I had intended to get a lot more work done after that meeting, but instead I ended up talking with Paul for a good while about his process with drafts and peer review and so on, as fodder for me while I think about revamping my approach. He has a ton--excuse me, eleven bajillion--papers to grade, so I felt a little guilty for keeping him here talking about this (especially as no food or alcoholic beverages were involved), but it was helpful in my continuing cogitations on this knotty issue. I did get some work done--I completed the write-up of last week's observation (P&B business)--but I didn't get the student homeworks marked that I intended to. Plus, I had hoped to be home by now. Ah well. Barring disaster or the unforeseen, I should be able to get the homework for the first of tomorrow's classes marked in the morning before class, and the other section done during club hour--during which time I also desperately need to start grading revisions.
I truly do need to keep my desire to give feedback on a short leash when I mark those revisions. They have another paper coming up, so they need to know where they did better and where the did not--but I will drive myself into a straight-jacket and a rubber room if I give them more than the bare minimum. I've got to get these papers out of my hair for my own sanity. More to the point, they need them back so they can consider how to adjust their next papers, as they attempt to avoid making the same mistakes.
I do have to say, it was lovely to sleep as long as I needed to this morning and to wake up without the alarm clock. My mood is still not as stable (and upbeat) as I'd prefer, but getting sufficient sleep is a boon. But speaking of mood stabilization, it's time to begin to haul my brains out of this mode and start letting go of the anxieties of the day. Cleansing breath, ommmm, ommmmm, ommmmm....
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
"Thank you, Dr. Payne"
I still find it strange to be called Dr. Payne. I'm used to "professor," with or without the name attached, but "Dr. Payne" still sounds funny. But how nice to hear it in a sentence with those two words, "thank you," in front of it. That from a student in today's 102: he admits to finding English difficult (he's a math/science guy), but he's earnest and genuinely wants to do well--and he's got the chops to do it. He was thanking me for helping him prioritize the work he's missing and for telling him that he's the kind of student I like to see succeed. He may never be a spectacularly good student in this discipline, but I can see he has the potential, and the work ethic, to improve, which is delightful in and of itself. Plus I just like him: he's a little more grown up than some of the crop, and the lights are on: clearly an intellect at work.
I must say, I'm very proud of myself for getting all the way to the end of today. Last night was a bad one in terms of sleep, so my eyes have felt like fine-grit sandpaper all day, and my energy (and mood) were not conducive to vast enthusiasm for teaching. I kept giving myself permission to bail--and didn't. Tomorrow I can make into an easy day if I want (or need) to: I only have one class, followed by a meeting, so I can come to campus late and leave early. I "should" grind through assignments tomorrow, and I will, if I'm feeling up for it, but if it's another day like today, I'll allow myself to procrastinate a while longer on marking revisions and take advantage of the time I can steal at home.
Speaking of papers to grade, Native American Lit was interesting today: their first substantial paper was due, so only four students showed up--out of the seven or eight who may still be sticking to the class. Three of the students who were missing today I hope will be back (with their papers) on Thursday: I like having a small class, but four students is a bit absurd. Still, those four are terrific--and one of them spoke up today for the first time, offering interpretations without prompting. Very cool.
Now I'm here to fulfill my evening office hour and to noodle around until dance class. Despite the gritty eyes factor, I do want to dance tonight, for the exercise and as something I do for the selfish pleasure of it. But between now and then, I'm not going to even pretend I'm going to get any work done. I'm going to read the current Dickens novel (I'm rereading them all, and am working through Martin Chuzzlewit at the moment), eat my dinner, and maybe close my eyes for a bit. God, I hope I sleep well tonight!
I must say, I'm very proud of myself for getting all the way to the end of today. Last night was a bad one in terms of sleep, so my eyes have felt like fine-grit sandpaper all day, and my energy (and mood) were not conducive to vast enthusiasm for teaching. I kept giving myself permission to bail--and didn't. Tomorrow I can make into an easy day if I want (or need) to: I only have one class, followed by a meeting, so I can come to campus late and leave early. I "should" grind through assignments tomorrow, and I will, if I'm feeling up for it, but if it's another day like today, I'll allow myself to procrastinate a while longer on marking revisions and take advantage of the time I can steal at home.
Speaking of papers to grade, Native American Lit was interesting today: their first substantial paper was due, so only four students showed up--out of the seven or eight who may still be sticking to the class. Three of the students who were missing today I hope will be back (with their papers) on Thursday: I like having a small class, but four students is a bit absurd. Still, those four are terrific--and one of them spoke up today for the first time, offering interpretations without prompting. Very cool.
Now I'm here to fulfill my evening office hour and to noodle around until dance class. Despite the gritty eyes factor, I do want to dance tonight, for the exercise and as something I do for the selfish pleasure of it. But between now and then, I'm not going to even pretend I'm going to get any work done. I'm going to read the current Dickens novel (I'm rereading them all, and am working through Martin Chuzzlewit at the moment), eat my dinner, and maybe close my eyes for a bit. God, I hope I sleep well tonight!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Quick post
All's well today. Both classes did fine with the poetry, although I saw an alarming trend in their responses to the critical essays, in which they seemed unable to differentiate between when the critic was quoting from the poetry and when he or she was analyzing the quotation--but that's why I do the homework with them, so we can catch that kind of problem before they start writing their papers.
My favorite thing from the last two days of classes has been seeing students have the "ah-hah!" moment, when suddenly my questions and close attention to individual words lead them to an interpretation that makes the whole poem click into place. Watching their faces light up is a treat.
I keep putting off grading their revisions. I tell myself it's because I need to get their reading journals and responses back to them so they're ready for the next discussion and the coming paper, but really, it's just that I don't much want to burst this happy bubble I'm in, and I'm afraid the revisions will be the usual disappointment, showing microscopic change at best. Oh, wouldn't it be lovely to be pleasantly surprised?
Shifting gears, I just sent of my candidate statement for P&B: yes, I'm running again. And for Scheduling. And for Academic Standing (a college-wide elected position, since I don't want to do College Wide Curriculum any more). This from a woman who says she wants to cut down on committees. If I'm elected to all of the above, my committee obligations will be P&B (weekly), Academic Standing (monthly), college-wide Assessment (monthly), departmental Assessment (monthly), and Scheduling (once a semester). And I'm officially the new Professional Liaison Coordinator for ASLE (the Association for the Study of Literature and the Environment), a "leadership position" for the flagship organization in my field (and ASLE is international).
And I still worry about having enough to get full professor in five years. I need publications! Ay-yi-yi.
But I'm gnawing on ideas for a radical reconfiguration of how I approach comp classes, which--once in effect--will (I hope) free up a fair amount of time. And that is a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Now I'm dashing off to a doctor's appointment, then back to the office long enough to pack up and head home. Tonight's date with Paul has been postponed until he's healthy (he seems to have bronchitis), so instead I'll try to make an early night of it, get a good run at the day tomorrow.
Off this goes, with nary a re-read or proof....
My favorite thing from the last two days of classes has been seeing students have the "ah-hah!" moment, when suddenly my questions and close attention to individual words lead them to an interpretation that makes the whole poem click into place. Watching their faces light up is a treat.
I keep putting off grading their revisions. I tell myself it's because I need to get their reading journals and responses back to them so they're ready for the next discussion and the coming paper, but really, it's just that I don't much want to burst this happy bubble I'm in, and I'm afraid the revisions will be the usual disappointment, showing microscopic change at best. Oh, wouldn't it be lovely to be pleasantly surprised?
Shifting gears, I just sent of my candidate statement for P&B: yes, I'm running again. And for Scheduling. And for Academic Standing (a college-wide elected position, since I don't want to do College Wide Curriculum any more). This from a woman who says she wants to cut down on committees. If I'm elected to all of the above, my committee obligations will be P&B (weekly), Academic Standing (monthly), college-wide Assessment (monthly), departmental Assessment (monthly), and Scheduling (once a semester). And I'm officially the new Professional Liaison Coordinator for ASLE (the Association for the Study of Literature and the Environment), a "leadership position" for the flagship organization in my field (and ASLE is international).
And I still worry about having enough to get full professor in five years. I need publications! Ay-yi-yi.
But I'm gnawing on ideas for a radical reconfiguration of how I approach comp classes, which--once in effect--will (I hope) free up a fair amount of time. And that is a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Now I'm dashing off to a doctor's appointment, then back to the office long enough to pack up and head home. Tonight's date with Paul has been postponed until he's healthy (he seems to have bronchitis), so instead I'll try to make an early night of it, get a good run at the day tomorrow.
Off this goes, with nary a re-read or proof....
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Stick a fork in me...
...I'm done. I'm very proud of myself that I managed to return all the old homework I'd collected over the past few weeks (mostly by not commenting on it at all: reading journals about the short stories no longer matter, as that paper is done and gone, so why point out the problems with interpretation?). Of course, I now have enormous, steaming piles of revisions to mark, plus the reading journals and other homework I collected this week, but I'm going to do my damndest to stick to my plan to mark less, less, less. My obsessive paper marking is doing no good to anyone, so I'm taking myself very firmly to task about giving them as much as they can assimilate--and no more.
Well, anyway.
We had fun in Native American lit today: I brought in some poems for us to work through on the fly, and they did a nice job. The best part was when response to a poem led to talking about larger issues: how we see our place in the world, the environmental destruction we know we're causing and yet how we can't seem to really change how we see the world so that we'll behave differently (this is precisely what my paper was about, one of those rare but fascinating moments when something that's popping in my head spontaneously arises for the students as well, with no prompting from me). I was aware that the niggling headache I've been fighting for the last three days--and the fact that it's Thursday--didn't lead to terrific teaching on my part (my intellect feels like it's got a flat tire), but the students did most of the heavy lifting and did it well.
I had a similar feeling about this afternoon's 102. As was the case on Tuesday, most of them were highly engaged in analyzing the poetry and did a great job of it. One group were completely useless lunks--so I was happy that they were grouped together; that way they didn't drag down any of the other groups. The lunks are so utterly certain that they cannot "get" poetry that they won't even make the teeniest attempt, despite my encouragement and support. So, their loss. If they won't try to engage in the process, I'm not going to try to reach in there to save them. When it comes time to write their next papers, they'll simply implode and that will be that.
Both the other 102s (the one I met yesterday and today's morning section) certainly did better on the second go-round than they had the first day. I also was intrigued to observe a colleague yesterday and to notice how completely different her approach is--and yet that we end up saying many of the same things (almost word for word) and eventually get our students to the same place. She starts by asking, "What is this poem about?" I never do. I say, "Just observe. Notice anything: individual words or phrases, what you feel, how it looks on the page. Then start to ask questions to make connections. Don't try to interpret yet." But we both end up pointing out how compact and dense poetry is, how important it is to pay attention to specific, individual words, that misinterpretations are possible, but so are multiple interpretations (and they're valid as long as the words of the text support them), and so on.
And we have the same experience of some students being willing to speak even when their ideas are idiotic, others offering interpretations that are a lot more valuable, and a lot not speaking at all.
Shifting gears, I'm looking at the calendar and am struck all over again by what a weird semester this is. There are six more weeks to get through before spring break--but once we're back, we've got three weeks and we're done. This long, looooooong stretch in the middle is in some ways good: we can get a head of steam going and roll from one assignment to the next without interruption. On the other hand, the exhaustion factor is going to build exponentially, especially for them. I have very cleverly arranged that my students have to write their final paper proposals over spring break, so I don't have to deal with them. I will, however, almost certainly have other stuff piled up that I should (but probably won't) mark. And once the break is over, Jesus, what a wild ride that will be.
Still, that's projecting awfully far into the future. I know I will have far fewer students by the end (the lunks, for instance, will very likely drop away as the assignments get progressively more challenging). I know I'll ride waves of energy and exhaustion, as I always do. And for now, all I really need to do is figure out what I want for dinner. I already watered the office plants and packed up the assignments I'm taking home for the weekend (in the foolish and no doubt delusional expectation that I'll actually get around to marking them); I've checked student e-mail and put the things I need to tend to on Monday front and center on the desk. I've got fifteen more minutes of my evening office hour, and then I am so out of here I may break the sound barrier. Feels good to cross off another week.
Well, anyway.
We had fun in Native American lit today: I brought in some poems for us to work through on the fly, and they did a nice job. The best part was when response to a poem led to talking about larger issues: how we see our place in the world, the environmental destruction we know we're causing and yet how we can't seem to really change how we see the world so that we'll behave differently (this is precisely what my paper was about, one of those rare but fascinating moments when something that's popping in my head spontaneously arises for the students as well, with no prompting from me). I was aware that the niggling headache I've been fighting for the last three days--and the fact that it's Thursday--didn't lead to terrific teaching on my part (my intellect feels like it's got a flat tire), but the students did most of the heavy lifting and did it well.
I had a similar feeling about this afternoon's 102. As was the case on Tuesday, most of them were highly engaged in analyzing the poetry and did a great job of it. One group were completely useless lunks--so I was happy that they were grouped together; that way they didn't drag down any of the other groups. The lunks are so utterly certain that they cannot "get" poetry that they won't even make the teeniest attempt, despite my encouragement and support. So, their loss. If they won't try to engage in the process, I'm not going to try to reach in there to save them. When it comes time to write their next papers, they'll simply implode and that will be that.
Both the other 102s (the one I met yesterday and today's morning section) certainly did better on the second go-round than they had the first day. I also was intrigued to observe a colleague yesterday and to notice how completely different her approach is--and yet that we end up saying many of the same things (almost word for word) and eventually get our students to the same place. She starts by asking, "What is this poem about?" I never do. I say, "Just observe. Notice anything: individual words or phrases, what you feel, how it looks on the page. Then start to ask questions to make connections. Don't try to interpret yet." But we both end up pointing out how compact and dense poetry is, how important it is to pay attention to specific, individual words, that misinterpretations are possible, but so are multiple interpretations (and they're valid as long as the words of the text support them), and so on.
And we have the same experience of some students being willing to speak even when their ideas are idiotic, others offering interpretations that are a lot more valuable, and a lot not speaking at all.
Shifting gears, I'm looking at the calendar and am struck all over again by what a weird semester this is. There are six more weeks to get through before spring break--but once we're back, we've got three weeks and we're done. This long, looooooong stretch in the middle is in some ways good: we can get a head of steam going and roll from one assignment to the next without interruption. On the other hand, the exhaustion factor is going to build exponentially, especially for them. I have very cleverly arranged that my students have to write their final paper proposals over spring break, so I don't have to deal with them. I will, however, almost certainly have other stuff piled up that I should (but probably won't) mark. And once the break is over, Jesus, what a wild ride that will be.
Still, that's projecting awfully far into the future. I know I will have far fewer students by the end (the lunks, for instance, will very likely drop away as the assignments get progressively more challenging). I know I'll ride waves of energy and exhaustion, as I always do. And for now, all I really need to do is figure out what I want for dinner. I already watered the office plants and packed up the assignments I'm taking home for the weekend (in the foolish and no doubt delusional expectation that I'll actually get around to marking them); I've checked student e-mail and put the things I need to tend to on Monday front and center on the desk. I've got fifteen more minutes of my evening office hour, and then I am so out of here I may break the sound barrier. Feels good to cross off another week.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Back to business as usual
It was very interesting to spend most of the break working on my own scholarship for a change. I felt exceeding rusty and slow--and am not utterly thrilled with the end result--but it had to be done (the deadline was yesterday), so off it went. I was writing again about Le Guin, so I e-mailed a copy of the piece to her (she always likes to know what we critics are up to): her response was immediate, thought-provoking, and made me dearly wish I could snatch the thing back and have another week to work on it. She is ferociously smart, clear--and generous, in taking the time to read the piece so quickly and get back to me promptly with a genuine, considered response. I'm in her debt, always.
And now, back cranking away at the same old clunky machine of the semester, I find it's difficult to adjust my mind back into this work mode (and certainly difficult to get my body back into this sleep schedule). But in collecting revisions from 102 students the last two days, I am again touched by how earnest many of them are, how much they want to please me (us--adults generally, faculty in specific in this instance). It's good to remember that about the students, as I am significantly pissed off with the administration these days: their goals are so frequently utterly antithetical to the presumed goal of a college--actually educating individuals--that it's crazy-making.
Case in point, we're once again having to battle to have placement essays evaluated by human beings instead of computers. Despite the approaching singularity, computers are still not smart enough to know if a sentence actually means anything--certainly not if it means anything of value or interest. But using the computer to score placement essays means that students can have instant results: they know their placement immediately, without having to wait for some poky, out-moded, imprecise human to actually evaluate whether they're capable of thought. Why why why do the students need to be "served" so immediately? Well, because if they have to wait 24 hours to find out their placement, they might change their minds and not come to NCC at all! Qu'elle catastrophe! We want them, we lust for them, we yearn for them and we must please them at all costs to keep them with us--at least long enough to collect their tuition. Then we don't give a rat's petite patoot what happens.
Breathing, breathing, in with the good air, out with the evil thoughts.
I'd rather think about my students. How's that for a nice change? Today's 102 was especially good for my morale. We embarked on poetry, and though at first there was the usual resistance (and misunderstanding about how to approach a poem), once I encouraged them to simply notice words without trying to figure out meaning, and then encouraged them to move from the words to questions, the discussion took off. This class did the best of the three in getting involved and excited. (Maybe I should always teach on 4 hours of sleep and after six plus hours of other work.) In addition, one student brought me a box of chocolates to thank me for having left her a voice mail about where to pick up her marked paper so she could do her revision; I'm happy with the chocolate but more touched that she recognized I had done something for her that I didn't need to do. And one talked to me after class about his revision: he'll be late with it, but he said, "This is the stuff I need to learn." That's one of the happiest sentences a professor can hear a student say. And he was in utter earnest about it, too. Nice.
However, given the above-mentioned lack of sleep (and long day), I haven't got it in me even to try to organize the chaos I've created on my desk since 8:30 this morning. I was very gratified that I was able to mark everything to return to the students in 229 today (I now have a few late assignments, but it's minor). I'll be collecting reading journals from them on Thursday, but really, I can turn my attention now to getting through the backlog for the 102 classes--and beginning to mark their revisions. I also need to select a few more poems for 229: we're doing a little selection of traditional poems and chants (in translation, of course), and we got through almost everything I'd selected for the week. I'll bring in a few more and we'll just do them on the fly in class: no reading journals required, just to give us something to do. Heaven knows there are only about a zillion possible poems I could choose from to add to the selection. In a minute I'll sit down with the one anthology I have here and see if anything strikes me as particularly fun.
I'm doing my evening office hour now, but I'm also killing time until dance class tonight--which is why I'm still here, noodling around, instead of in the car on my way home. I want to shake this body up a little before I put it to bed, hoping that tonight I can sleep like I've been hit with a hammer. Tomorrow will be another busy day but should be a good one: some time in the morning to organize and chip away at assignments, then class, then observation of another faculty member (part of P&B business and always fascinating), then a meeting of Women's Studies--and then home again... and around we go.
And now, back cranking away at the same old clunky machine of the semester, I find it's difficult to adjust my mind back into this work mode (and certainly difficult to get my body back into this sleep schedule). But in collecting revisions from 102 students the last two days, I am again touched by how earnest many of them are, how much they want to please me (us--adults generally, faculty in specific in this instance). It's good to remember that about the students, as I am significantly pissed off with the administration these days: their goals are so frequently utterly antithetical to the presumed goal of a college--actually educating individuals--that it's crazy-making.
Case in point, we're once again having to battle to have placement essays evaluated by human beings instead of computers. Despite the approaching singularity, computers are still not smart enough to know if a sentence actually means anything--certainly not if it means anything of value or interest. But using the computer to score placement essays means that students can have instant results: they know their placement immediately, without having to wait for some poky, out-moded, imprecise human to actually evaluate whether they're capable of thought. Why why why do the students need to be "served" so immediately? Well, because if they have to wait 24 hours to find out their placement, they might change their minds and not come to NCC at all! Qu'elle catastrophe! We want them, we lust for them, we yearn for them and we must please them at all costs to keep them with us--at least long enough to collect their tuition. Then we don't give a rat's petite patoot what happens.
Breathing, breathing, in with the good air, out with the evil thoughts.
I'd rather think about my students. How's that for a nice change? Today's 102 was especially good for my morale. We embarked on poetry, and though at first there was the usual resistance (and misunderstanding about how to approach a poem), once I encouraged them to simply notice words without trying to figure out meaning, and then encouraged them to move from the words to questions, the discussion took off. This class did the best of the three in getting involved and excited. (Maybe I should always teach on 4 hours of sleep and after six plus hours of other work.) In addition, one student brought me a box of chocolates to thank me for having left her a voice mail about where to pick up her marked paper so she could do her revision; I'm happy with the chocolate but more touched that she recognized I had done something for her that I didn't need to do. And one talked to me after class about his revision: he'll be late with it, but he said, "This is the stuff I need to learn." That's one of the happiest sentences a professor can hear a student say. And he was in utter earnest about it, too. Nice.
However, given the above-mentioned lack of sleep (and long day), I haven't got it in me even to try to organize the chaos I've created on my desk since 8:30 this morning. I was very gratified that I was able to mark everything to return to the students in 229 today (I now have a few late assignments, but it's minor). I'll be collecting reading journals from them on Thursday, but really, I can turn my attention now to getting through the backlog for the 102 classes--and beginning to mark their revisions. I also need to select a few more poems for 229: we're doing a little selection of traditional poems and chants (in translation, of course), and we got through almost everything I'd selected for the week. I'll bring in a few more and we'll just do them on the fly in class: no reading journals required, just to give us something to do. Heaven knows there are only about a zillion possible poems I could choose from to add to the selection. In a minute I'll sit down with the one anthology I have here and see if anything strikes me as particularly fun.
I'm doing my evening office hour now, but I'm also killing time until dance class tonight--which is why I'm still here, noodling around, instead of in the car on my way home. I want to shake this body up a little before I put it to bed, hoping that tonight I can sleep like I've been hit with a hammer. Tomorrow will be another busy day but should be a good one: some time in the morning to organize and chip away at assignments, then class, then observation of another faculty member (part of P&B business and always fascinating), then a meeting of Women's Studies--and then home again... and around we go.
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