Started to develop a wicked headache as I was marking journals for today's 102--not a comment on the journals, just the weather change of the last 48 hours plus the garden-variety end-of-semester foo-raw. I keep thinking of a bit in The Word for World Is Forest, when a character is thinking of his own health, "Migraine headache, margarine breadache, ow, ow, ow." This isn't a migraine, but I want to be sure to keep it that way, so I'm bailing on my Advisement stint and heading for the hills. Class was great, and the Bright Young Man followed me back to the office to talk further about the novel, a specific area that he was trying to make sense of. We covered a lot of good territory in class, but toward the end, we got into a conversation about Prof. P and her dissertation and correspondence with Le Guin and graduate school and previous employment history.... It's what Paul calls their desire to "get under the hood," to figure us out, how we tick. It was easy enough to allow it, as they were doing so well with what they'd read. And sometimes I think it's valuable for them to see us as people, me as a person, to reveal some of my passions and the work I've gone through to get where I am.
But I didn't get enough accomplished today, so I'll be back in the office tomorrow, writing up those observations, reviewing promotion applications. I've got a socially jam-packed weekend ahead of me, which is lovely in many ways but increases the pressure on the work week. The endless refrain, yes? All I can do is take each day, each task, as it comes, and have faith that somehow it will all get done--and that I don't have to drive myself into the ground like a tent-stake to do it.
And it's not dark yet. I didn't make it out of here before full dark yesterday (the last student I saw in Advisement kept me there 30 minutes beyond my "finish" time), but I will today. Everybody sing: "Grab your coat and get your hat..."
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Breather!
Oh, hooray! I can hardly believe my good fortune. Not only is it very quiet in Advisement today (I saw three students and now no one is waiting, so I'm free for the time being), I also got all the proposals evaluated, graded, and returned to students--along with reading journals for today's 102. I collected another batch of reading journals from the 102, but I postponed collecting the journals for the short story class: we spent the class period working on getting their proposals approved instead. One approval is complete (Mr. Determined/Dedicated: well done!); several are close, others will require more work. I hope that Monday is not completely consumed with getting the remaining proposals approved; again, I encourged students to work for those approvals via e-mail over the weekend. If the approvals don't take too long on Monday, we can talk about the story we were meant to discuss today, but if that doesn't happen, ah well. We'll just have two stories to discuss on the last days of class, which is peachy.
The one unhappy moment was that I had to give a student the bad news that he's not going to pass the class. He was skating on extremely thin ice all semester long, and didn't get his proposal to me on time. I told him that deadline is absolute--yes, even if his grandfather had to be rushed to the hospital. I'd be more inclined to give him a little benefit of the doubt if A) any of his preceding papers had ever been on time and B) I'd gotten some kind of panic-stricken e-mail begging for mercy. The fact that he just showed up today and expected to be given more time? Nope, won't fly. He was furious, stormed into the room to get his coat and bags saying "I just wasted a whole semester" (I guess you did, if you choose to see it as a waste), and then he stormed back out again, saying, "Good luck to all the rest of you." I wasn't sure if that was a slam at me (as in, "with that bitch as a professor, you all are going to need luck") or if he sincerely felt a connection to the other students and wished them well. Strangely at variance with his behavior, his tone actually sounded more like the latter than the former--but who knows. In any event, he truly won't be hurt by having to spend another semester in school. Maybe he'll learn something about responsibility, if nothing else.
But I confidently expect another negative review on Rate My Professor.
However, to balance that moment, at the end of class, two students made a point of letting me know how much they appreciate the time and energy I put into communicating with them. One of them said, "Most professors are like, 'Whatever,' but you really care; you really want us to do well." Yes, I do; thank you for noticing. I did thank them for the praise--and it genuinely does make me feel not only happy but relieved. My efforts are not in vain: at least some of the students actually value the experience they're having.
I don't remember if I said yesterday that the class started with a comment from a student: "Are you sure you're in the right place?" I asked what she meant, and essentially, the students embarked in a discussion of whether I belong at a community college. I said yes, in fact, that's precisely where I do belong. One student said I was harder than the professors she'd had at Stony Brook (which is unlikely--but even if so, that wouldn't have been the case had she stayed there); another said I was more like the professors at his previous four-year school than like other professors at Nassau. Perhaps (though I know many of my colleagues here are every bit as tough as I am), but even so, isn't that what they want? They kept saying "yes, but...." Yes, they want to be prepared, but it hurts. Yes, they would rather know that they may never find another class as hard--but the hardness is overwhelming right now. Eventually, one of them said, "It's a compliment," so I said, "Thank you. But it doesn't sound like one." Later, the student who had started that particular ball rolling apologized to me, saying she hadn't meant to say anything bad about me. I reassured her: I was not offended, or upset in any way. I just wanted them to consider what they were really saying, what they really want.
Yesterday's class was a little bit scratchy (again the problem of them asking so many questions, jumping ahead and worrying about little details that I had a hard time getting to what we needed to focus on); today's 102 was great. We were discussing Le Guin's essay "Is Gender Necessary? (Redux)" and the intro to the novel, and the students had great comments and questions. We ended up getting into some pretty advanced concepts and philosophical questions, and they were right there, soaking it in. I could practically smell and taste the deep thought going on, and that's the classroom experience I love most. That's real college stuff, guys, no bullshit.
We'll see what tomorrow brings, from the 102. I do have their final journals on the novel to mark--and then all the other mounds and heaps and piles of work I've not been able to attend to yet--but I intend to do nothing else productive with the balance of today. I have what I hope will be one final appointment about my stupid tooth tomorrow morning, but after that, I can come to campus and dive back in. I may even come in on Friday--unlikely, but one never knows (lots to mull over about that before I decide, and the decision will probably happen at the last minute). And tonight, I truly believe the breather, small though it will be, will do me more good than trying to grind through more work. Suddenly, the waiting room has filled up, but I'm only here for about another 30 minutes, after which I intend to go to the office, drop off my wheelie-pack full of student detritus, grab my purse, and leave. Imagine: I may even be home before it's fully dark. Wouldn't that be a miracle?
The one unhappy moment was that I had to give a student the bad news that he's not going to pass the class. He was skating on extremely thin ice all semester long, and didn't get his proposal to me on time. I told him that deadline is absolute--yes, even if his grandfather had to be rushed to the hospital. I'd be more inclined to give him a little benefit of the doubt if A) any of his preceding papers had ever been on time and B) I'd gotten some kind of panic-stricken e-mail begging for mercy. The fact that he just showed up today and expected to be given more time? Nope, won't fly. He was furious, stormed into the room to get his coat and bags saying "I just wasted a whole semester" (I guess you did, if you choose to see it as a waste), and then he stormed back out again, saying, "Good luck to all the rest of you." I wasn't sure if that was a slam at me (as in, "with that bitch as a professor, you all are going to need luck") or if he sincerely felt a connection to the other students and wished them well. Strangely at variance with his behavior, his tone actually sounded more like the latter than the former--but who knows. In any event, he truly won't be hurt by having to spend another semester in school. Maybe he'll learn something about responsibility, if nothing else.
But I confidently expect another negative review on Rate My Professor.
However, to balance that moment, at the end of class, two students made a point of letting me know how much they appreciate the time and energy I put into communicating with them. One of them said, "Most professors are like, 'Whatever,' but you really care; you really want us to do well." Yes, I do; thank you for noticing. I did thank them for the praise--and it genuinely does make me feel not only happy but relieved. My efforts are not in vain: at least some of the students actually value the experience they're having.
I don't remember if I said yesterday that the class started with a comment from a student: "Are you sure you're in the right place?" I asked what she meant, and essentially, the students embarked in a discussion of whether I belong at a community college. I said yes, in fact, that's precisely where I do belong. One student said I was harder than the professors she'd had at Stony Brook (which is unlikely--but even if so, that wouldn't have been the case had she stayed there); another said I was more like the professors at his previous four-year school than like other professors at Nassau. Perhaps (though I know many of my colleagues here are every bit as tough as I am), but even so, isn't that what they want? They kept saying "yes, but...." Yes, they want to be prepared, but it hurts. Yes, they would rather know that they may never find another class as hard--but the hardness is overwhelming right now. Eventually, one of them said, "It's a compliment," so I said, "Thank you. But it doesn't sound like one." Later, the student who had started that particular ball rolling apologized to me, saying she hadn't meant to say anything bad about me. I reassured her: I was not offended, or upset in any way. I just wanted them to consider what they were really saying, what they really want.
Yesterday's class was a little bit scratchy (again the problem of them asking so many questions, jumping ahead and worrying about little details that I had a hard time getting to what we needed to focus on); today's 102 was great. We were discussing Le Guin's essay "Is Gender Necessary? (Redux)" and the intro to the novel, and the students had great comments and questions. We ended up getting into some pretty advanced concepts and philosophical questions, and they were right there, soaking it in. I could practically smell and taste the deep thought going on, and that's the classroom experience I love most. That's real college stuff, guys, no bullshit.
We'll see what tomorrow brings, from the 102. I do have their final journals on the novel to mark--and then all the other mounds and heaps and piles of work I've not been able to attend to yet--but I intend to do nothing else productive with the balance of today. I have what I hope will be one final appointment about my stupid tooth tomorrow morning, but after that, I can come to campus and dive back in. I may even come in on Friday--unlikely, but one never knows (lots to mull over about that before I decide, and the decision will probably happen at the last minute). And tonight, I truly believe the breather, small though it will be, will do me more good than trying to grind through more work. Suddenly, the waiting room has filled up, but I'm only here for about another 30 minutes, after which I intend to go to the office, drop off my wheelie-pack full of student detritus, grab my purse, and leave. Imagine: I may even be home before it's fully dark. Wouldn't that be a miracle?
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Brief brain break
I'm finding it very difficult to evaluate what I'm reading in student proposals, so I'm taking a brain break. I hope I can get back to the marking for a while longer tonight; even though I plan on getting in early again tomorrow, I have a lot to get done for tomorrow's classes.
As I'm evaluating the 102 proposals for their grades (which is getting my head out of the short story proposals), I realize I approved a few in some haste: I really should have asked the students to take at least one more step in their thinking before saying "yes, you're good to go." However, it's not too late for me to direct them into a clearer focus; I'm just making comments on the "approved" proposals, either specifying the change that is required or saying "see me." Sometimes the problems are just too hard to explain in pen in the margins.
I also wish I'd done what I did with today's class, and slapped grades on them at the time. True, this moment to read more carefully is pointing out to me where I need to give a little more guidance, but on the other hand, this is taking a fuck of a lot of time. The returning student I have in the T/Th 102 said today that he can see a decided difference in me from last semester: I seem much more stressed. So that sense of having not enough time is leading to galloping anxiety. I just need to breathe through it, and keep pushing forward, and know that I'll get there, one way or another.
I also decided to attend the meeting this morning, the one I was going to blow off. I'm glad I did, in terms of what happened in the meeting (I'm becoming a sort of institutional memory for that committee, and a general translator from our language into Assessment-Edu-speak)--but again, that contributes to the sense of time crunch.
And I don't want to even hope that I might get a breather after the current batch of assignments is out of my hair. For one thing, I know I'm going to be getting a bunch more reading journals from all three classes this week; for another, there's still a mountain of stuff that I've been sitting on since early November that I've yet to complete. I don't want to continue the self-tantalization of thinking I'll get a break that doesn't materialize. I'd rather just accept that I will not, in fact, be able to relax at all this term, not for a second, and that I'll still be relatively busy over the "break." I don't know when to hope for a chance to lie about drooling and blithering--unless I have a complete breakdown, which is unlikely. But I do know it will happen eventually, as long as I keep the pressure on for a while longer.
But I don't want this to sound more horrific than it actually is. I do give myself breaks: they're small but significant. For instance, I will be leaving here at 6:45 to meet Paul for dinner: that's a lovely thing to look forward to. I'm finished in Advisement at 4:15 tomorrow, which means I have a little extra time in the office....
But now, a colleague needs me to jump her car, so off I go to do that.
As I'm evaluating the 102 proposals for their grades (which is getting my head out of the short story proposals), I realize I approved a few in some haste: I really should have asked the students to take at least one more step in their thinking before saying "yes, you're good to go." However, it's not too late for me to direct them into a clearer focus; I'm just making comments on the "approved" proposals, either specifying the change that is required or saying "see me." Sometimes the problems are just too hard to explain in pen in the margins.
I also wish I'd done what I did with today's class, and slapped grades on them at the time. True, this moment to read more carefully is pointing out to me where I need to give a little more guidance, but on the other hand, this is taking a fuck of a lot of time. The returning student I have in the T/Th 102 said today that he can see a decided difference in me from last semester: I seem much more stressed. So that sense of having not enough time is leading to galloping anxiety. I just need to breathe through it, and keep pushing forward, and know that I'll get there, one way or another.
I also decided to attend the meeting this morning, the one I was going to blow off. I'm glad I did, in terms of what happened in the meeting (I'm becoming a sort of institutional memory for that committee, and a general translator from our language into Assessment-Edu-speak)--but again, that contributes to the sense of time crunch.
And I don't want to even hope that I might get a breather after the current batch of assignments is out of my hair. For one thing, I know I'm going to be getting a bunch more reading journals from all three classes this week; for another, there's still a mountain of stuff that I've been sitting on since early November that I've yet to complete. I don't want to continue the self-tantalization of thinking I'll get a break that doesn't materialize. I'd rather just accept that I will not, in fact, be able to relax at all this term, not for a second, and that I'll still be relatively busy over the "break." I don't know when to hope for a chance to lie about drooling and blithering--unless I have a complete breakdown, which is unlikely. But I do know it will happen eventually, as long as I keep the pressure on for a while longer.
But I don't want this to sound more horrific than it actually is. I do give myself breaks: they're small but significant. For instance, I will be leaving here at 6:45 to meet Paul for dinner: that's a lovely thing to look forward to. I'm finished in Advisement at 4:15 tomorrow, which means I have a little extra time in the office....
But now, a colleague needs me to jump her car, so off I go to do that.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Fog and more fog
That's the weather outside. It was profoundly foggy this morning as I drove to campus (an hour later than I'd intended, but I found I simply could not bear the idea of a 5 a.m. alarm), and when I came out of Advisement a while ago, the fog had set in again. I was going to make some comparison between external and internal fog, but in fact I don't feel foggy. I feel groggy (even a 6:00 alarm hurts), and somewhat scratchy moodwise (nowhere near as cranky as I can get, however), but my head is still surprisingly clear. Overwhelmed, but clear.
Today was very easy in terms of teaching. The students in the short story class listened to a few announcements from me, handed in their proposals, and split. I sat there grading papers (the ones I would have finished before class if I had gotten up at 5), and two straggler students showed up with proposals. (One didn't: no surprise. He's been hanging on by a thread all semester and the thread snapped.)
Since no one else was there, and I had time, I had good conversations with each of the stragglers about previous papers, especially with the student who was guilty of plagiarism. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt: she may have been deliberately trying to cheat, but somehow I don't get that feeling from her (either she's a much better actress than anyone I've ever seen, or my radar is in need of calibrating, or she is, in fact, honest). The plagiarism was not as glaring or wholesale as it sometimes is, and it was one of those instances where she'd looked up a story to get help and the line between help and use got blurry. I still gave her the whole "plagiarism is a failing offense" line, and she's getting The Letter, but I told her I'd give her a chance to revise: the grade will be the average of whatever her new grade is and the zero she'd have gotten for the plagiarized paper. She feels better about that--and I know that the grade will be so low that it might as well be a zero.
I'm honestly not angry or upset with her--but I was wildly frustrated yesterday when I had to spend ages finding the evidence of the plagiarism so I could show her what she'd done. It just takes so fucking much time to catch, dammit, and I don't have the time to spare right now. I actually had to check two papers of hers: I won't go into the details, but I didn't get the printout of her first paper until very late, so I was grading it yesterday, too--only to realize it was about two stories we'd not read. Huge red flags went flying all over the place, but I ran the paper through the plagiarism detector mill and nothing turned up. Either she was plagiarizing herself--a paper she'd written for some other class perhaps--or a friend gave her a paper, or she legitimately was simply confused. Again, the paper she "wrote" gets a zero, but that one I'll just let her write all over again, from scratch, and instead of averaging the two, I'll simply give her whatever grade she gets.
But oh, the time, dammit, the time it took to determine the amount and kind of "cheating"!
That was last night, however. Today, time was less pinched. The 102 was pretty easy, too. A couple of the students had gotten their proposals approved via e-mail, so I just had to collect the revisions so I can evaluate for a grade. The rest brought revised proposals to class for me to evaluate on the spot. Most I could approve right then and there (though again, the grades are yet to be determined--all but one, which is a solid A). Only one young man had to keep working on his thesis in class, and it didn't take him long. And again, I was deeply touched by how frightened they were as I came to each one of them to read over their new proposals. One young woman chatting with her friend until I came over, and then she said, "Oh, my heart just started racing! I was fine, but now I can hardly breathe." My poor sweethearts. I'm proud of them for getting so far, concerned about the fact that they're still struggling on so many levels, hopeful that they'll finally take off and fly with this final paper.
But getting back to the shortage of time (which is close to the title of a Le Guin story, "Some Approaches to the Problem of the Shortage of Time"--makes me want to reread it to see if there are any good suggestions): I think I'm going to bail on tomorrow's Assessment meeting. I feel so woefully unprepared for our P&B meeting, never mind the papers I have to grade, that I need the time. I'll try to get up at 6 again (oy!) and get in to the office ASAP and crank through whatever I can accomplish before P&B at 1. But I don't feature myself going to dance class tomorrow night: I'll either be working, or I'll be heading home to collapse.
Which is the plan for right now. I'll putter until I figure out what I want to do about dinner; then off I go. But I leave you with this profound statement, penned by one of my students, to consider: "Death is something that can cause serious changes in life and everyday society." I'd say yes, death certainly changes life pretty radically.
Today was very easy in terms of teaching. The students in the short story class listened to a few announcements from me, handed in their proposals, and split. I sat there grading papers (the ones I would have finished before class if I had gotten up at 5), and two straggler students showed up with proposals. (One didn't: no surprise. He's been hanging on by a thread all semester and the thread snapped.)
Since no one else was there, and I had time, I had good conversations with each of the stragglers about previous papers, especially with the student who was guilty of plagiarism. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt: she may have been deliberately trying to cheat, but somehow I don't get that feeling from her (either she's a much better actress than anyone I've ever seen, or my radar is in need of calibrating, or she is, in fact, honest). The plagiarism was not as glaring or wholesale as it sometimes is, and it was one of those instances where she'd looked up a story to get help and the line between help and use got blurry. I still gave her the whole "plagiarism is a failing offense" line, and she's getting The Letter, but I told her I'd give her a chance to revise: the grade will be the average of whatever her new grade is and the zero she'd have gotten for the plagiarized paper. She feels better about that--and I know that the grade will be so low that it might as well be a zero.
I'm honestly not angry or upset with her--but I was wildly frustrated yesterday when I had to spend ages finding the evidence of the plagiarism so I could show her what she'd done. It just takes so fucking much time to catch, dammit, and I don't have the time to spare right now. I actually had to check two papers of hers: I won't go into the details, but I didn't get the printout of her first paper until very late, so I was grading it yesterday, too--only to realize it was about two stories we'd not read. Huge red flags went flying all over the place, but I ran the paper through the plagiarism detector mill and nothing turned up. Either she was plagiarizing herself--a paper she'd written for some other class perhaps--or a friend gave her a paper, or she legitimately was simply confused. Again, the paper she "wrote" gets a zero, but that one I'll just let her write all over again, from scratch, and instead of averaging the two, I'll simply give her whatever grade she gets.
But oh, the time, dammit, the time it took to determine the amount and kind of "cheating"!
That was last night, however. Today, time was less pinched. The 102 was pretty easy, too. A couple of the students had gotten their proposals approved via e-mail, so I just had to collect the revisions so I can evaluate for a grade. The rest brought revised proposals to class for me to evaluate on the spot. Most I could approve right then and there (though again, the grades are yet to be determined--all but one, which is a solid A). Only one young man had to keep working on his thesis in class, and it didn't take him long. And again, I was deeply touched by how frightened they were as I came to each one of them to read over their new proposals. One young woman chatting with her friend until I came over, and then she said, "Oh, my heart just started racing! I was fine, but now I can hardly breathe." My poor sweethearts. I'm proud of them for getting so far, concerned about the fact that they're still struggling on so many levels, hopeful that they'll finally take off and fly with this final paper.
But getting back to the shortage of time (which is close to the title of a Le Guin story, "Some Approaches to the Problem of the Shortage of Time"--makes me want to reread it to see if there are any good suggestions): I think I'm going to bail on tomorrow's Assessment meeting. I feel so woefully unprepared for our P&B meeting, never mind the papers I have to grade, that I need the time. I'll try to get up at 6 again (oy!) and get in to the office ASAP and crank through whatever I can accomplish before P&B at 1. But I don't feature myself going to dance class tomorrow night: I'll either be working, or I'll be heading home to collapse.
Which is the plan for right now. I'll putter until I figure out what I want to do about dinner; then off I go. But I leave you with this profound statement, penned by one of my students, to consider: "Death is something that can cause serious changes in life and everyday society." I'd say yes, death certainly changes life pretty radically.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Huh.
I just was looking at the numbers of posts from previous months and years, and I see very few posts from April and May of this year. I wonder what I was doing that I wasn't blogging? One of these days, I may go back and re-read what I've flung up here. It may be interesting (or nauseating) to see what themes return....
Whew!
It was a bit of a mad dash at the end there, and I did have to rush a couple of students through their visits during my office hours, but I got the proposals and reading journals marked and back to the students today. Whew, and other exclamations of relief and collapse. We also had a pretty good discussion about the end of the novel, after which I was able to go around the room and help everyone get a handle on revising their proposals.
Two students from the M/W 102 were among those I hustled in and out of my office relatively expeditiously today. One was struggling to get to a thesis, and he may still not quite be there, though by the end of class on Monday (if not before), he'll be able to come up with something good enough. The other is poised to get an A, if she keeps on as she's going now: she had the ideas; she just hadn't pulled them together into a coherent claim yet. She had written a revised thesis, but on her walk over to my office, she had an even better thought--and that's what she's going to turn into her revision. It's a great idea: if she follows through on it fully, it will work beautifully.
But I'm hedging there, aware of the possibilities for a derailment. By now I should know that whenever I am confident that a student will nail a proposal (or a paper), I'm likely to be wrong: often the students I'm most sure will do beautifully in fact don't. Case in point, the Bright Young Man. He was brave enough to tackle the loyalty and betrayal theme, but he engaged in a process simply of proving that instances of loyalty and betrayal exist in the novel, rather than making a claim regarding what Le Guin is saying about loyalty and betrayal. He'd written a sort of mini-paper (good plan), but essentially he was left merely summarizing events, rather than producing analysis. After class, he followed me over to the Advisement Center, talking about it--and realized that he'd pretty much missed what was going on with the theme anyway. He's still going to go with it (again, a good plan), but he's feeling a bit like a fraud at the moment, as he truly hadn't seen what he needed to see in order to do the topic. But he's on track now, and I'm confident he'll do fine with his revision.
The young woman who was in my office on Tuesday did the best job of coming up with a thesis. In fact, her proposal was the best across the board: her only downfall was that she wasn't specific about the value of the quotations she intends to use from her critical source. She should be proud.
By contrast, one student was on the verge of tears in the class today: in fact, as she and I were talking about what she needed to do to revise her proposal, she was so panic-stricken that she was struggling not to give way entirely. I suggested she step outside and let herself have the moment of panic, then come back. She did, and I think she now sees what her claim actually is. She had a good idea, but she was using a point that would belong in a body paragraph as if it were her overall claim: I had to lift her out of that and into something that would fly--but I think (hope) she'll do fine, now that we talked it over.
I'm expecting a barrage of e-mails over the weekend, as students frantically revise. It does break my heart when they are so stressed that they verge on tears--or, on occasion, actually cry. It is literally awesome how much so many of them invest in their course work. They are highly ego involved: they view their grades as significant indicators of who they are as people. I tend to forget that aspect of it all: I'm so locked into the struggle to impart what Paul calls the habits of mind that I forget that the students don't see what we're doing as merely an intellectual exercise. And they're right. It isn't just an intellectual exercise--but what is being said about them as human beings does not reside in their grades, as they believe. Rather, it lies in how they manage the difficult tasks, whether they improve, by how much, and in what areas. Grades don't measure that very adequately--but those intangibles are the real purpose and value of education.
It's such a delicate balance, between making sure they get where they need to be in terms of that intellectual journey and bolstering their emotional states as human beings: providing support and encouragement while maintaining standards. I expect I will perpetually veer between utter conviction that my standards are appropriate and profound concern that I am overly demanding--at least for the time and place in which I find myself. The zeitgeist says I'm way the hell off base, but I fight that ghost with bulldog tenacity. I'm engaged in a rear-guard action, I know, but I refuse to surrender, as long as I still have the energy and mental acumen to continue the battle.
And I certainly identify with the panic and pressure my students are going through. I'm not panicked myself, at the moment, but I can tell this is going to be one of those days, weeks, that is hard to let go. Talk about my bulldog tendencies: I tend to sink my teeth into a day or week (or longer), and even when it's time to back off, relax, do something else so the batteries can recharge, I keep my jaws locked on the work, either by fretting or by engaging in tangential activities that accomplish very little, though they "feel" somewhat useful--or that are a pretense at relaxation without actually being very relaxing. The inclination to putter (or noodle) is hard to avoid; even thinking about letting go entirely can bring on waves of anxiety. "I can't relax! I have too much to do!" And yet, if I don't let go, I'll become increasingly inefficient and ineffective. Yeesh. Times like this, when I contemplate the enormous mounds of stuff still to be done, render even the blogging an insufficient form of decompression. What's a girl to do? My usual response is to find something mindless to read (or watch) and to eat equally mindlessly. Books (or DVDs) and food: my narcotics of choice. I'm not sure which I may indulge in tonight, but I do know I need to get out of this room if I'm to have any chance of prying those bulldog teeth loose.
"Let go!" (grrrrrrrr.) "Let GO." (grrrrrrrr.) "Bad dog! LET GO!!" (grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.)
Two students from the M/W 102 were among those I hustled in and out of my office relatively expeditiously today. One was struggling to get to a thesis, and he may still not quite be there, though by the end of class on Monday (if not before), he'll be able to come up with something good enough. The other is poised to get an A, if she keeps on as she's going now: she had the ideas; she just hadn't pulled them together into a coherent claim yet. She had written a revised thesis, but on her walk over to my office, she had an even better thought--and that's what she's going to turn into her revision. It's a great idea: if she follows through on it fully, it will work beautifully.
But I'm hedging there, aware of the possibilities for a derailment. By now I should know that whenever I am confident that a student will nail a proposal (or a paper), I'm likely to be wrong: often the students I'm most sure will do beautifully in fact don't. Case in point, the Bright Young Man. He was brave enough to tackle the loyalty and betrayal theme, but he engaged in a process simply of proving that instances of loyalty and betrayal exist in the novel, rather than making a claim regarding what Le Guin is saying about loyalty and betrayal. He'd written a sort of mini-paper (good plan), but essentially he was left merely summarizing events, rather than producing analysis. After class, he followed me over to the Advisement Center, talking about it--and realized that he'd pretty much missed what was going on with the theme anyway. He's still going to go with it (again, a good plan), but he's feeling a bit like a fraud at the moment, as he truly hadn't seen what he needed to see in order to do the topic. But he's on track now, and I'm confident he'll do fine with his revision.
The young woman who was in my office on Tuesday did the best job of coming up with a thesis. In fact, her proposal was the best across the board: her only downfall was that she wasn't specific about the value of the quotations she intends to use from her critical source. She should be proud.
By contrast, one student was on the verge of tears in the class today: in fact, as she and I were talking about what she needed to do to revise her proposal, she was so panic-stricken that she was struggling not to give way entirely. I suggested she step outside and let herself have the moment of panic, then come back. She did, and I think she now sees what her claim actually is. She had a good idea, but she was using a point that would belong in a body paragraph as if it were her overall claim: I had to lift her out of that and into something that would fly--but I think (hope) she'll do fine, now that we talked it over.
I'm expecting a barrage of e-mails over the weekend, as students frantically revise. It does break my heart when they are so stressed that they verge on tears--or, on occasion, actually cry. It is literally awesome how much so many of them invest in their course work. They are highly ego involved: they view their grades as significant indicators of who they are as people. I tend to forget that aspect of it all: I'm so locked into the struggle to impart what Paul calls the habits of mind that I forget that the students don't see what we're doing as merely an intellectual exercise. And they're right. It isn't just an intellectual exercise--but what is being said about them as human beings does not reside in their grades, as they believe. Rather, it lies in how they manage the difficult tasks, whether they improve, by how much, and in what areas. Grades don't measure that very adequately--but those intangibles are the real purpose and value of education.
It's such a delicate balance, between making sure they get where they need to be in terms of that intellectual journey and bolstering their emotional states as human beings: providing support and encouragement while maintaining standards. I expect I will perpetually veer between utter conviction that my standards are appropriate and profound concern that I am overly demanding--at least for the time and place in which I find myself. The zeitgeist says I'm way the hell off base, but I fight that ghost with bulldog tenacity. I'm engaged in a rear-guard action, I know, but I refuse to surrender, as long as I still have the energy and mental acumen to continue the battle.
And I certainly identify with the panic and pressure my students are going through. I'm not panicked myself, at the moment, but I can tell this is going to be one of those days, weeks, that is hard to let go. Talk about my bulldog tendencies: I tend to sink my teeth into a day or week (or longer), and even when it's time to back off, relax, do something else so the batteries can recharge, I keep my jaws locked on the work, either by fretting or by engaging in tangential activities that accomplish very little, though they "feel" somewhat useful--or that are a pretense at relaxation without actually being very relaxing. The inclination to putter (or noodle) is hard to avoid; even thinking about letting go entirely can bring on waves of anxiety. "I can't relax! I have too much to do!" And yet, if I don't let go, I'll become increasingly inefficient and ineffective. Yeesh. Times like this, when I contemplate the enormous mounds of stuff still to be done, render even the blogging an insufficient form of decompression. What's a girl to do? My usual response is to find something mindless to read (or watch) and to eat equally mindlessly. Books (or DVDs) and food: my narcotics of choice. I'm not sure which I may indulge in tonight, but I do know I need to get out of this room if I'm to have any chance of prying those bulldog teeth loose.
"Let go!" (grrrrrrrr.) "Let GO." (grrrrrrrr.) "Bad dog! LET GO!!" (grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.)
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Maybe a bad idea--redux
I have marked a few of the proposals and reading journals for tomorrow's class, and I truly must get them all back tomorrow, and I truly won't have a lot of time tomorrow to do them--but from the moment I got in this morning, I've been having a hard time keeping my eyes open as I grade. I truly have drifted off a few times, in the midst of trying to evaluate a proposal, my eyes slowly closing and my head beginning to nod. This suggests to me that I may not be working at peak capacity (gee, ya think?). So the possible bad idea is my decision not to mark any more tonight but leave all the rest for the morrow. I may find myself scrambling to get them done before class--especially as I know a few students are planning to show up for my office hour (dammit)--but c'est la vie.
I'd take off for home, but I told a student I'd be here until 6:30, so I feel obliged to hang out for a while longer. She's trying to get her proposal revised right now, which is laudable, but I rather wish I hadn't made the offer to be around; that may be another bad idea, but ah well.
In any event, since I'm using the time waiting for her to show up by blogging, let me recall a moment from yesterday. I have the student with learning disabilities in the T/Th 102 class, you may remember. I talked to my sister about that young woman, and my sister's reaction reminded me that compassion is often the greater part of teaching. I sometimes get locked into a "tough love" stance, but in the case of this student, such an attitude is probably less than helpful. So yesterday after class, I talked to her for a bit. She knows she's not going to pass the class, but she wants to turn in work anyway, so she can keep learning. Yesterday, however, she fell asleep in the hall before class and didn't wake up until class was over, even though some of the other students in the class tried to get her to wake up and come in. (As I've said, they're very sweet about her.) And she didn't have her proposal done, because she hadn't been able to figure out how to use the databases. So I told her that she should just finish doing the reading but shouldn't try to do any other work. (I didn't say that marking her work is time I don't want to spend on someone who can't pass, but that's a sad if brutal truth.) And I told her she was welcome to spend time with us in class, as she needs a place to be away from her group living situation.
I also asked her if she'd registered with the Center for Students with Disabilities: my sister had suggested that I take the student over there myself, if she needed encouragement getting registered. Turns out, the student had registered but didn't think CSD could do anything to help her. In fact, they may not have any classroom accommodations that will help her, but I told her that the counselors can help her understand her assignments better, can help her learn how to process complex instructions--and she lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. That's what she needs: someone who can walk her through instructions and feedback so she can see more than one thread at a time. She was thrilled and said she'd definitely see a counselor for next semester. And when I told her she was welcome to join us for discussion of the novel, she was relieved and thrilled: "If I were allowed to hug you," she said, "I would." I told her I'd hug her back, if I were allowed to. It took so little to add some light and warmth to her life, I'm glad I was able to.
I also had a conversation during my office hour with another student from that class: she also has psychological problems that have been getting in her way, but she's hanging in there, which she says she's never been able to do before. She didn't have her proposal done, which should mean failure in the class (according to the big print all over the assignment sheet and elsewhere in my various policy statements), but she's been working so hard to turn the semester around, I didn't want the axe to fall just yet. So I told her she'd have to get me her proposal by the time I arrive on campus tomorrow morning; that way I can mark and return it along with everyone else's, and she can proceed with the rest of the class. She was on the verge of tears when she left the office, just from having her anxieties allayed.
And the very sweet and earnest young man from that class has decided to withdraw--wisely, I think, but he still wants to come to class and get what he can out of it. At first he said that if he didn't finish the term with me, he'd have to drop out of college entirely, as he's paying for it out of his own pocket, but now he's changed his mind and has decided that he can take the class again, and next time, do better. He's smart enough to do fine; his only problem was his sentence-level skills, which were woefully inadequate. He's gotten himself a tutor and is learning to do it right, finally, at long last. I hope he does very well in the spring: he's got all the determination and motivation to succeed.
So even the ones who are flaming out--or close to it--are learning a lot, about themselves and about academia. I find it very moving.
Shifting gears to today: the short story class did a terrific job on Le Guin's "Malheur County" today. They saw a lot going on, and came up with great comments, questions, and connections. They have their proposals due on Monday, and I'm not sure what to do with them once they turn those in. They don't have any reading due, and they've covered all the stories to date just fine. I'd try to get the proposals graded during the class period, but I don't think I can, as there are 11 students left in the class. That's a fraction of what we started with (I think the initial roster was 28 students) but still more than I think I can mark in 75 minutes. I may just let them go, which would be interesting for them and for me.
The 102 will be similar. Today, we spent about 40 minutes finishing up discussion of the novel; then I had them work on revising their proposals, so they could ask questions and so on while I was there. We'll see how many of them manage to get approvals via e-mail, but I suspect that at least a few will need to use the class time to get those approvals finalized. The thesis is the stumbling block for all of them: even the ones who did a great job with everything else fell apart on their theses. Those who have gotten an approved proposal, I'll send off to work on whatever they want. The rest, I'll keep in class until they get the approval. And then Wednesday, we'll discuss the intro to the book plus Le Guin's essay "Is Gender Necessary? (Redux)", and then they're off to the races, so to speak.
I'm trying not to think too much about all the other zillions of things I have to do--but it is helpful if periodically I remind myself of what's still hanging over my head (yes, rather like the sword of Damocles). Over the weekend, I have to grade papers for the short story class, so they can have a shot at revising before the end of the term (and I need to remember to tell them that I'm going to extend that deadline by two days). I need to review letters other P&B members have written to go with promotion applications before Tuesday's meeting. I need to review promotion applications for everyone, not just my mentees--but my mentees have to come first, hopefully before Tuesday's meeting as well. I still have observations to write up. I need to do the preliminary scheduling of adjuncts for spring. I'm working on a little bit of my own scholarship, and I need to keep an eye on that so the deadline doesn't slip past with no submission from me. I also need to chip away at my Chancellor's Award application, whenever I can winkle out a little time and brain space for that. And it seems like I must be forgetting something dire: that doesn't look like nearly enough to drive me insane.
And three weeks from tomorrow, the semester is over. YEEEEE-HAAAAA!!!!
I'd take off for home, but I told a student I'd be here until 6:30, so I feel obliged to hang out for a while longer. She's trying to get her proposal revised right now, which is laudable, but I rather wish I hadn't made the offer to be around; that may be another bad idea, but ah well.
In any event, since I'm using the time waiting for her to show up by blogging, let me recall a moment from yesterday. I have the student with learning disabilities in the T/Th 102 class, you may remember. I talked to my sister about that young woman, and my sister's reaction reminded me that compassion is often the greater part of teaching. I sometimes get locked into a "tough love" stance, but in the case of this student, such an attitude is probably less than helpful. So yesterday after class, I talked to her for a bit. She knows she's not going to pass the class, but she wants to turn in work anyway, so she can keep learning. Yesterday, however, she fell asleep in the hall before class and didn't wake up until class was over, even though some of the other students in the class tried to get her to wake up and come in. (As I've said, they're very sweet about her.) And she didn't have her proposal done, because she hadn't been able to figure out how to use the databases. So I told her that she should just finish doing the reading but shouldn't try to do any other work. (I didn't say that marking her work is time I don't want to spend on someone who can't pass, but that's a sad if brutal truth.) And I told her she was welcome to spend time with us in class, as she needs a place to be away from her group living situation.
I also asked her if she'd registered with the Center for Students with Disabilities: my sister had suggested that I take the student over there myself, if she needed encouragement getting registered. Turns out, the student had registered but didn't think CSD could do anything to help her. In fact, they may not have any classroom accommodations that will help her, but I told her that the counselors can help her understand her assignments better, can help her learn how to process complex instructions--and she lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. That's what she needs: someone who can walk her through instructions and feedback so she can see more than one thread at a time. She was thrilled and said she'd definitely see a counselor for next semester. And when I told her she was welcome to join us for discussion of the novel, she was relieved and thrilled: "If I were allowed to hug you," she said, "I would." I told her I'd hug her back, if I were allowed to. It took so little to add some light and warmth to her life, I'm glad I was able to.
I also had a conversation during my office hour with another student from that class: she also has psychological problems that have been getting in her way, but she's hanging in there, which she says she's never been able to do before. She didn't have her proposal done, which should mean failure in the class (according to the big print all over the assignment sheet and elsewhere in my various policy statements), but she's been working so hard to turn the semester around, I didn't want the axe to fall just yet. So I told her she'd have to get me her proposal by the time I arrive on campus tomorrow morning; that way I can mark and return it along with everyone else's, and she can proceed with the rest of the class. She was on the verge of tears when she left the office, just from having her anxieties allayed.
And the very sweet and earnest young man from that class has decided to withdraw--wisely, I think, but he still wants to come to class and get what he can out of it. At first he said that if he didn't finish the term with me, he'd have to drop out of college entirely, as he's paying for it out of his own pocket, but now he's changed his mind and has decided that he can take the class again, and next time, do better. He's smart enough to do fine; his only problem was his sentence-level skills, which were woefully inadequate. He's gotten himself a tutor and is learning to do it right, finally, at long last. I hope he does very well in the spring: he's got all the determination and motivation to succeed.
So even the ones who are flaming out--or close to it--are learning a lot, about themselves and about academia. I find it very moving.
Shifting gears to today: the short story class did a terrific job on Le Guin's "Malheur County" today. They saw a lot going on, and came up with great comments, questions, and connections. They have their proposals due on Monday, and I'm not sure what to do with them once they turn those in. They don't have any reading due, and they've covered all the stories to date just fine. I'd try to get the proposals graded during the class period, but I don't think I can, as there are 11 students left in the class. That's a fraction of what we started with (I think the initial roster was 28 students) but still more than I think I can mark in 75 minutes. I may just let them go, which would be interesting for them and for me.
The 102 will be similar. Today, we spent about 40 minutes finishing up discussion of the novel; then I had them work on revising their proposals, so they could ask questions and so on while I was there. We'll see how many of them manage to get approvals via e-mail, but I suspect that at least a few will need to use the class time to get those approvals finalized. The thesis is the stumbling block for all of them: even the ones who did a great job with everything else fell apart on their theses. Those who have gotten an approved proposal, I'll send off to work on whatever they want. The rest, I'll keep in class until they get the approval. And then Wednesday, we'll discuss the intro to the book plus Le Guin's essay "Is Gender Necessary? (Redux)", and then they're off to the races, so to speak.
I'm trying not to think too much about all the other zillions of things I have to do--but it is helpful if periodically I remind myself of what's still hanging over my head (yes, rather like the sword of Damocles). Over the weekend, I have to grade papers for the short story class, so they can have a shot at revising before the end of the term (and I need to remember to tell them that I'm going to extend that deadline by two days). I need to review letters other P&B members have written to go with promotion applications before Tuesday's meeting. I need to review promotion applications for everyone, not just my mentees--but my mentees have to come first, hopefully before Tuesday's meeting as well. I still have observations to write up. I need to do the preliminary scheduling of adjuncts for spring. I'm working on a little bit of my own scholarship, and I need to keep an eye on that so the deadline doesn't slip past with no submission from me. I also need to chip away at my Chancellor's Award application, whenever I can winkle out a little time and brain space for that. And it seems like I must be forgetting something dire: that doesn't look like nearly enough to drive me insane.
And three weeks from tomorrow, the semester is over. YEEEEE-HAAAAA!!!!
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