Literally, not metaphorically. Hurricane Joaquin has us in its sights and may hit on Monday. The weather report says it's a very difficult storm to predict, but I have to admit, even the thought of it has me more than a little freaked out. I'm already thinking about whether I should prepare to leave town on Sunday, cats and all, and head out of harm's way. My particular area was not especially hard hit by Sandy, but I don't relish a repeat of even that experience--and the indications are that Joaquin will be a stronger storm...
So, part of what I had to do in class today was to prepare the students in the 101 for what to do in terms of class should the storm hit, both if classes are being held but it's dangerous for the individual student to get to campus (which is possible: depending on where students live, something that barely touches us here mid-Island to north shore can slam the hell out of them) and if classes are canceled. I told them to be ready for everything to proceed as normal on Monday, but if it doesn't, we go into a holding pattern until classes resume.
I'll have to make a similar announcement to the electives tomorrow. If we really are hit dead on, as we might be, classes could be canceled for a good long while.
Still, there was actual educating going on in the class today. I went over all the nuts and bolts stuff--starting with having them calculate where their grade stands right now. I told them the numeric range that would be passing at this point and that if they fell outside the range, as of right now, they're failing. The guinea pig said, "So, you mean I'm failing the course? I can't do anything about it?" I assured them all that no: I'm doing this now while there's still time to pull out a passing grade--but I did want to scare the shit out of them, and I think I did. Interestingly enough, Mr. Bewildered is actually doing sort of OK--though he does need to button it up and turn in all his assignments from now on. I reminded them that discussion board posts are due the day we discuss the article in class--and that in order to get full credit, they have to do an initial post plus respond to two others. Guinea Pig piped up again: "Wait, I only responded to one. I thought..." I cut him off: we went over it in class; it's on the handout about discussion boards; it's in the syllabus. No fucking excuses.
Next time, I'll say, "Don't 'think.' Know for sure: read the handouts carefully."
Both he and Mr. Bewildered also have a tendency to zone out during class, no matter what's going on. Sigh.
But I also went over the submission requirements, paper format, works cited pages, thesis statements, what the peer review on Monday (or whenever) will be, blah blah blah. At the end, I had 15 minutes in which to discuss the articles they found on their own--and of the students who were there, half didn't have anything, or only had an article but hadn't done the work on it yet.
Right now, I predict that I'm going to end up with four, maybe five students in that class. If I can get all the good ones to stay.
I'm glad to report that it was a very quiet day in Advisement today, so I not only got all the 101 homework marked to return, I got most of the homework for the SF class marked too--and finished the rest of it after class today. I have an appointment that means I have to leave in a few minutes, which is too bad: I'm kinda on a roll and would love to read the next chunk of Oryx and Crake--but I guess that will have to wait until I'm home. And I'm not sure I'll make the MDC session during Club Hour tomorrow, though I'd like to go: I suspect I'll be marking M&D homework and reading The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Ah well. C'est la vie.
And now, I must dash. See y'all on the flip side (a term that is meaningless in a world that no longer relies on vinyl records).
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Early warnings
Oh, I forgot: that's considered too harsh these days. We're now obligated to give "academic progress reports." But the mechanism for that hasn't geared up yet--and I already see signs of drowning among my students, so I'm letting them know they're about to go under unless they reach out for help.
And sometimes that means the attrition begins. "Wait, you mean I have to come to class? On time?? Forget it, Bitch, I'm outta here."
On the other hand, at least one student got the actual message: she came to me during class to find out when she could meet with me. I told her to send an e-mail so we could find a time that works for us both. She may still drown, but there's hope for her, if she's willing to not only come in for help but make use of the help.
The student from that class who came to me before--smart woman--apparently tried to see me yesterday, but in a fit of insanity, I'd gone down the hall to talk to the agitated colleague who has been concerned about the distribution of online courses. That colleague had sent me an e-mail over the weekend, asking me to call her. I actually did try, though I considered keeping my weekend sacrosanct, but I kept getting a "call could not be completed" message. Since neither she nor I have class at 2:00 on Mondays, I said I'd drop by--yes, I admit, rather forgetting that I have an office hour at that time. The student was a little annoyed, but I was abjectly apologetic--and she'll probably come on Thursday, or if not, then on Monday next.
And in the M&D class, I was handing back assignments, and a student right under my nose complained about how he always seemed to get the same (low) mark on his responses. Without looking up, still looking through the stack of papers in my hand, I said, "Maybe it's time to come see me to find out what you can do to make them better."
Oh. Yeah. That.
Shifting back to the SF class, the two very bright young women who talked to me about problems with their experience in groups talked to me again after class. It's a long, complicated story, which I won't get into here and now, but I do think it's about time for me to start micro-managing the groups, making sure that the good students are together--though there are times when I want the good students in groups with the not-so-good, so the shakier scholars get a sense of what is possible. That's a difficult line to walk--but now that the early warnings have gone out, I will start getting more cold-hearted about cutting the life lines.
Both classes were a little lead-balloony today, but I have hopes that on Thursday, they'll both be cooking along better. The SF students are a little overwhelmed by Oryx and Crake, the M&D students have a hard time shifting from the TV Sherlock to reading (or vice versa). We're reading The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, and I had fun talking a little about the "manor house" mystery (a student said the book felt like a game of Clue: dingdingdingding, give the woman a cigar!) and about stock characters. Next class, I'll talk about how Christie was also in some ways inventing the genre--but about how we can see traces of other literary bloodlines in her work: I'm noticing a tendency toward Dickensian naming of characters: Major Blunt, the nosy butler Parker--or is it Palmer? I have name aphasia today. I need to do what I recommended the students do: create a character "cheat sheet" that gives a quick reminder of who's who and what they're up to, why they're potential suspects....
But getting back to the idea of life lines, I'm pretty annoyed with a student from the 101. I will give him credit for engaging in e-mail conversation with me, but he missed a lot of classes, including the library class, so he sent an e-mail from the library--clearly expecting an instant response--saying, "I'm at the library and typing in 'articles on education,' but I know that isn't right." Oh god, where to start? I sent him a rather lengthy e-mail in response, but I did say that I couldn't possibly re-teach the entire library class, that he's learning a painful lesson about missing class, and that the help I offered in the e-mail was as far as I was going to go in terms of helping him research for tomorrow's assignment.
I'm so afraid of where that class is going to end up. William and I were talking about it today, and he put it beautifully: when the bright students have poor attendance in a class that small, we're essentially held hostage by the smart ones. We don't dare enforce our rules because god forbid we should lose that precious student. I don't think I'm going to lose the best student(s) from the 101, but I may lose most of them.
Well, we'll see.
On a completely different front, a colleague came into the office today right before I had to go to P&B, asking if I did MDC. I said "no," not really understanding what she was asking, but after she talked to William a bit, I realized she was looking for someone to be on a round-table she's formed for the Northeast Modern Language Association (NeMLA) conference, specifically talking about interdisciplinarity. Thinking about the panel at last November's CCHA, I said I could do it. I did ask her the dates, but she wasn't sure, and I agreed without knowing. Turns out, it's immediately before our spring break. Shit. I don't really want anything to interfere with spring break--even the run up to it--but aha! The conference is in Hartford, Connecticut, so unless our panel is frighteningly early in the morning (and possibly even if it is), I don't have to be at the whole conference, or even spend the night. I can go up for the presentation, maybe have lunch with a colleague or two, and head home again, all in one day. Despite the fact that Kristin is one of the conference organizers, and that another colleague used to be the president of NeMLA--and despite the vast horde of colleagues who go regularly--I just don't want a lot to do with that conference: it seems too big and unwieldy and formal to me. The only conference I've ever been to that I've thought "Oh, this is great! I want to come all the time!" is ASLE. I've considered going back two others--one because of the focus (fantasy and SF) and the other because it's usually held in Albuquerque (where I have family)--but generally, my innate introversion makes conference going a bit of a trial for me, so if I can get the jollies of presenting without having to do the full immersion, I'll be thrilled to bits.
As a final note, I have to admit, sheepishly, that I am finding it somewhat difficult to summon up the energy for a full, normal week of classes. Part of me would like very much to bail on Advisement tomorrow morning--but Paul's right: it's best to save up those days for when there's actually a grind of work in Advisement, not for days like we're having now. (OK, another annoyance: because I'm in a cubicle that's out in public, and the professional advisers are all tucked back out of sight, I end up seeing almost every student who comes in the door. Yesterday, I even said, "Am I the only one seeing anybody?" But I digress.) I'll do my best to be a good little girl tomorrow, sit in Advisement and crank through 101 homework so I can return it to the students in class.
But that will be tomorrow.... For now, I'm toast. I'm going to crunch my way off campus.
And sometimes that means the attrition begins. "Wait, you mean I have to come to class? On time?? Forget it, Bitch, I'm outta here."
On the other hand, at least one student got the actual message: she came to me during class to find out when she could meet with me. I told her to send an e-mail so we could find a time that works for us both. She may still drown, but there's hope for her, if she's willing to not only come in for help but make use of the help.
The student from that class who came to me before--smart woman--apparently tried to see me yesterday, but in a fit of insanity, I'd gone down the hall to talk to the agitated colleague who has been concerned about the distribution of online courses. That colleague had sent me an e-mail over the weekend, asking me to call her. I actually did try, though I considered keeping my weekend sacrosanct, but I kept getting a "call could not be completed" message. Since neither she nor I have class at 2:00 on Mondays, I said I'd drop by--yes, I admit, rather forgetting that I have an office hour at that time. The student was a little annoyed, but I was abjectly apologetic--and she'll probably come on Thursday, or if not, then on Monday next.
And in the M&D class, I was handing back assignments, and a student right under my nose complained about how he always seemed to get the same (low) mark on his responses. Without looking up, still looking through the stack of papers in my hand, I said, "Maybe it's time to come see me to find out what you can do to make them better."
Oh. Yeah. That.
Shifting back to the SF class, the two very bright young women who talked to me about problems with their experience in groups talked to me again after class. It's a long, complicated story, which I won't get into here and now, but I do think it's about time for me to start micro-managing the groups, making sure that the good students are together--though there are times when I want the good students in groups with the not-so-good, so the shakier scholars get a sense of what is possible. That's a difficult line to walk--but now that the early warnings have gone out, I will start getting more cold-hearted about cutting the life lines.
Both classes were a little lead-balloony today, but I have hopes that on Thursday, they'll both be cooking along better. The SF students are a little overwhelmed by Oryx and Crake, the M&D students have a hard time shifting from the TV Sherlock to reading (or vice versa). We're reading The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, and I had fun talking a little about the "manor house" mystery (a student said the book felt like a game of Clue: dingdingdingding, give the woman a cigar!) and about stock characters. Next class, I'll talk about how Christie was also in some ways inventing the genre--but about how we can see traces of other literary bloodlines in her work: I'm noticing a tendency toward Dickensian naming of characters: Major Blunt, the nosy butler Parker--or is it Palmer? I have name aphasia today. I need to do what I recommended the students do: create a character "cheat sheet" that gives a quick reminder of who's who and what they're up to, why they're potential suspects....
But getting back to the idea of life lines, I'm pretty annoyed with a student from the 101. I will give him credit for engaging in e-mail conversation with me, but he missed a lot of classes, including the library class, so he sent an e-mail from the library--clearly expecting an instant response--saying, "I'm at the library and typing in 'articles on education,' but I know that isn't right." Oh god, where to start? I sent him a rather lengthy e-mail in response, but I did say that I couldn't possibly re-teach the entire library class, that he's learning a painful lesson about missing class, and that the help I offered in the e-mail was as far as I was going to go in terms of helping him research for tomorrow's assignment.
I'm so afraid of where that class is going to end up. William and I were talking about it today, and he put it beautifully: when the bright students have poor attendance in a class that small, we're essentially held hostage by the smart ones. We don't dare enforce our rules because god forbid we should lose that precious student. I don't think I'm going to lose the best student(s) from the 101, but I may lose most of them.
Well, we'll see.
On a completely different front, a colleague came into the office today right before I had to go to P&B, asking if I did MDC. I said "no," not really understanding what she was asking, but after she talked to William a bit, I realized she was looking for someone to be on a round-table she's formed for the Northeast Modern Language Association (NeMLA) conference, specifically talking about interdisciplinarity. Thinking about the panel at last November's CCHA, I said I could do it. I did ask her the dates, but she wasn't sure, and I agreed without knowing. Turns out, it's immediately before our spring break. Shit. I don't really want anything to interfere with spring break--even the run up to it--but aha! The conference is in Hartford, Connecticut, so unless our panel is frighteningly early in the morning (and possibly even if it is), I don't have to be at the whole conference, or even spend the night. I can go up for the presentation, maybe have lunch with a colleague or two, and head home again, all in one day. Despite the fact that Kristin is one of the conference organizers, and that another colleague used to be the president of NeMLA--and despite the vast horde of colleagues who go regularly--I just don't want a lot to do with that conference: it seems too big and unwieldy and formal to me. The only conference I've ever been to that I've thought "Oh, this is great! I want to come all the time!" is ASLE. I've considered going back two others--one because of the focus (fantasy and SF) and the other because it's usually held in Albuquerque (where I have family)--but generally, my innate introversion makes conference going a bit of a trial for me, so if I can get the jollies of presenting without having to do the full immersion, I'll be thrilled to bits.
As a final note, I have to admit, sheepishly, that I am finding it somewhat difficult to summon up the energy for a full, normal week of classes. Part of me would like very much to bail on Advisement tomorrow morning--but Paul's right: it's best to save up those days for when there's actually a grind of work in Advisement, not for days like we're having now. (OK, another annoyance: because I'm in a cubicle that's out in public, and the professional advisers are all tucked back out of sight, I end up seeing almost every student who comes in the door. Yesterday, I even said, "Am I the only one seeing anybody?" But I digress.) I'll do my best to be a good little girl tomorrow, sit in Advisement and crank through 101 homework so I can return it to the students in class.
But that will be tomorrow.... For now, I'm toast. I'm going to crunch my way off campus.
Monday, September 28, 2015
A Professor's work is never done...
I slogged through the mess that was the 101 students' first essays at an essay, and now I've embarked on reading responses for the lit electives. I don't have a lot to say about today, except that, in terms of the 101 class, I've seen lead balloons with significantly more buoyancy. Everyone was tired (including me), but I also think a lot of them were not prepared to talk about the reading--and a number were missing. I think one is permanently AWOL, and I handed out my own early warnings today to four who were there, so several more may bail, though the early warning explicitly says that they have time to turn things around if they take action on it now.
Heavy sigh.
I also have doubts about how I marked their preliminary essays; I'm afraid I may have been too hard on them and will frighten them out of trying further. But I'm hoping that the fact that we work through their writing in small stages may help. They didn't have to have an actual thesis this time around, and we'll spend a reasonable portion of class on Wednesday working on their ideas to formulate theses.
Another concern is the poor student who is baffled and bewildered by everything. His homework included a thesis that patently wasn't, something along the lines of "Education is a necessity of life." My comment on his homework was that the statement is way too huge to allow for debate and impossible to prove--but, he said, bewildered, someone in the Writing Center told him it was a good thesis. That tutor also wrote a note for him to give to me that she didn't understand the handbook review assignments--but Mr. Bewildered actually does: I asked him, and he said, "We're supposed to read the pages and summarize them." Exactly. So, I don't give much of a fuck whether the WC tutor understands the handout (and the fact that she says she doesn't leads me to question at very least her ability to focus if not her intelligence). But I'm mostly livid that she's sending students off with absolute crap as a "thesis." No no no no no.
So, I took pity on the kid and sat with him for about 20 minutes after class, trying to talk him to a thesis--or at least to an understanding of why the one provided by the WC tutor wouldn't fly. Of course, he couldn't think of an idea he wants to actually write about or prove: every time I tried to frame what he'd said to me as a question to answer or an idea to pursue, he'd have a reason why that wasn't really what he was saying.
Well, I did what I could for him today, and we'll spend a lot of time in class on it all come Wednesday. And their next versions of their essays are due a week from today, god help me.
I've started marking the assignments for tomorrow's lit electives so I can hand those back: I'm frantic to stay ahead of the work tsunami--work, I confess, that I manufacture for myself. I'm getting pretty good about just quickly reviewing the responses from the lit students, slapping a mark on them, and letting it go at that. Next up: learning a quicker method for marking the 101 papers. For the next round, I need to think carefully about what I want to focus on, so I can only mark what I want them to pay attention to. That was the other mistake on the stuff I handed back today: way too much comment, way too many corrections, overwhelming. So, it will be important for me to review my own essay assignment and make a plan for myself about the focus of my feedback.
Shifting gears back to the lit electives: I read the chapters I'll cover tomorrow over the weekend--and I'd have been very happy to keep reading: I was having a blast with both books (but, I confess, especially with Oryx and Crake). That will be my dessert between tomorrow and Thursday: reading the next assigned chunk for each class. I don't want to read ahead because I want to be able to keep the conversation focused on just the chapters we're going to cover on that day, and my memory is so unreliable, I'm afraid I'll spill the beans, let cats out of bags, that sort of thing--and I want the students to have the joy of the stories unfolding in their own way. Assuming it is a joy, of course, but I think they'll have fun. I'm very much looking forward to what they have to say about the readings.
And--note to self--I have to remember to warn them about the graphic sexual violence in The Windup Girl before they start reading it. I didn't give any "explicit material" advisories about Oryx and Crake, so when I read, "'Who says a guy can't suck his own,'" I thought, "Woops, forgot that was in there." Well, they'll have to grow up a little, I guess. I also have to warn them about nudity and violence in Blade Runner. Oddly, I don't have to worry about that sort of thing in the M&D class: Agatha Christie is not noted for explicit sex scenes. Even Raymond Chandler isn't particularly racy for young people these days--and he's about as sexually explicit and grotesquely violent as things get.
Oh, I'm blathering. I'll stop. Hasta manana.
Heavy sigh.
I also have doubts about how I marked their preliminary essays; I'm afraid I may have been too hard on them and will frighten them out of trying further. But I'm hoping that the fact that we work through their writing in small stages may help. They didn't have to have an actual thesis this time around, and we'll spend a reasonable portion of class on Wednesday working on their ideas to formulate theses.
Another concern is the poor student who is baffled and bewildered by everything. His homework included a thesis that patently wasn't, something along the lines of "Education is a necessity of life." My comment on his homework was that the statement is way too huge to allow for debate and impossible to prove--but, he said, bewildered, someone in the Writing Center told him it was a good thesis. That tutor also wrote a note for him to give to me that she didn't understand the handbook review assignments--but Mr. Bewildered actually does: I asked him, and he said, "We're supposed to read the pages and summarize them." Exactly. So, I don't give much of a fuck whether the WC tutor understands the handout (and the fact that she says she doesn't leads me to question at very least her ability to focus if not her intelligence). But I'm mostly livid that she's sending students off with absolute crap as a "thesis." No no no no no.
So, I took pity on the kid and sat with him for about 20 minutes after class, trying to talk him to a thesis--or at least to an understanding of why the one provided by the WC tutor wouldn't fly. Of course, he couldn't think of an idea he wants to actually write about or prove: every time I tried to frame what he'd said to me as a question to answer or an idea to pursue, he'd have a reason why that wasn't really what he was saying.
Well, I did what I could for him today, and we'll spend a lot of time in class on it all come Wednesday. And their next versions of their essays are due a week from today, god help me.
I've started marking the assignments for tomorrow's lit electives so I can hand those back: I'm frantic to stay ahead of the work tsunami--work, I confess, that I manufacture for myself. I'm getting pretty good about just quickly reviewing the responses from the lit students, slapping a mark on them, and letting it go at that. Next up: learning a quicker method for marking the 101 papers. For the next round, I need to think carefully about what I want to focus on, so I can only mark what I want them to pay attention to. That was the other mistake on the stuff I handed back today: way too much comment, way too many corrections, overwhelming. So, it will be important for me to review my own essay assignment and make a plan for myself about the focus of my feedback.
Shifting gears back to the lit electives: I read the chapters I'll cover tomorrow over the weekend--and I'd have been very happy to keep reading: I was having a blast with both books (but, I confess, especially with Oryx and Crake). That will be my dessert between tomorrow and Thursday: reading the next assigned chunk for each class. I don't want to read ahead because I want to be able to keep the conversation focused on just the chapters we're going to cover on that day, and my memory is so unreliable, I'm afraid I'll spill the beans, let cats out of bags, that sort of thing--and I want the students to have the joy of the stories unfolding in their own way. Assuming it is a joy, of course, but I think they'll have fun. I'm very much looking forward to what they have to say about the readings.
And--note to self--I have to remember to warn them about the graphic sexual violence in The Windup Girl before they start reading it. I didn't give any "explicit material" advisories about Oryx and Crake, so when I read, "'Who says a guy can't suck his own,'" I thought, "Woops, forgot that was in there." Well, they'll have to grow up a little, I guess. I also have to warn them about nudity and violence in Blade Runner. Oddly, I don't have to worry about that sort of thing in the M&D class: Agatha Christie is not noted for explicit sex scenes. Even Raymond Chandler isn't particularly racy for young people these days--and he's about as sexually explicit and grotesquely violent as things get.
Oh, I'm blathering. I'll stop. Hasta manana.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
So much better
Yesterday's discouragement has dissolved, momentarily at least. Between club hour (when I bailed on several events I really wanted to go to in order to mark assignments) and my office hour, I did get everything marked and back to the students. It was pretty dreadful, for the most part; I was wise to stay away from it yesterday, when the world looked bleak and miserable. But I've gotten much more quickly to the point where I comment minimally if at all, and pretty much I've turned over the responsibility for making improvements to responses to the students. I've told them about what they should do multiple times; either they're going to get it or they're not.
And the classes were great. Mr. Hostile wasn't: he does have that affect to a certain extent, but he was great in his group, great in the class discussion, happy that we're going to watch Blade Runner, psyched at the thought that I might squeeze another movie in there.... So, that's all good. And the discussion was lively and intelligent and could have kept going a lot longer if we hadn't run out of time. I always love it when I have to bring things to a halt and the students are disappointed that class is over.
That didn't quite happen with the M&D class, but it was still a good class. I forgot to remind them to make notes while watching "A Study in Pink," so they were a little dull at that point--and the end of A Study in Scarlet didn't exactly leave them with a lot to talk about, but I made some suggestions about a deeper thematic idea that might carry over into The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, which they're going to start for next week.
The SF students get to start Oryx and Crake, and I can't wait to find out what they think about it.
I do have to mention that there is one student in the SF class who is so completely clueless and lost that I hardly know how to talk to him. He can't understand the readings at all, and on Tuesday he said he wanted to come to my office to talk about it but not during my office hour, which isn't convenient for him. I said he should send me an e-mail from his student account so we could set up a time. Today he came to class about 40 minutes late, then came up to me to say he can't figure out how to use his student e-mail.
I should explain that the college sends vital information to students through their campus e-mail addresses. Every student has a campus e-mail address automatically, immediately upon registering. He's in sophomore level classes--and he has never used his student e-mail and can't figure out how. "Lost" is inadequate to cover how completely unprepared and out of it he is. How on earth did he get this far?
I told him how to get to his e-mail and suggested he go to one of the computer labs on campus for help getting it set up. But this is one of those situations when I wish it were at all ethical to pull him aside and say, "Listen: college isn't for you. You should figure out something that you want to do for a living that doesn't require a college education and go be brilliantly successful at that."
I won't even get into a discussion of the student in M&D who registered late, has been absent twice, and was 40 minutes late today. Or the student in M&D who decided that he'd be better off reading the graphic novel of A Study in Scarlet as a better option than simply looking up the summary online. (Well, yes, on a scale from bad to worse, that was the marginally better choice, but still.) I won't sigh and wring my hands over the students who are going AWOL in the lit electives: I'm glad to have fewer bodies in there, truly, but I do wish they'd officially withdraw.
Instead, I'll talk about how great it was to read the discussion board posts from the 101 students. They're not all doing it, of course, and some are doing a pretty dreadful job, but the ones who are doing it well are really doing it well: they're bouncing ideas off each other, bringing up things they forgot to mention in class (or didn't have time to, or that have occurred to them since). Those discussion board posts are a treat to read, and I have a blast joining in the conversation. I like the idea of doing more of this kind of thing: it's good writing practice for them (even though the writing is pretty dreadful in a few instances), and it does let them think a little more about the readings than they might otherwise have a chance to do.
And that, I think, is a good place to end the week. I already have my little bag of work packed to carry to Advisement on Monday (and please heaven I won't have to see any students but will just be able to work on my stuff), and as the dusk builds, I will toddle off to spend three days mixing relaxation, life maintenance, and girding my loins for the first full, normal week of the semester starting Monday. Wish us all luck.
And the classes were great. Mr. Hostile wasn't: he does have that affect to a certain extent, but he was great in his group, great in the class discussion, happy that we're going to watch Blade Runner, psyched at the thought that I might squeeze another movie in there.... So, that's all good. And the discussion was lively and intelligent and could have kept going a lot longer if we hadn't run out of time. I always love it when I have to bring things to a halt and the students are disappointed that class is over.
That didn't quite happen with the M&D class, but it was still a good class. I forgot to remind them to make notes while watching "A Study in Pink," so they were a little dull at that point--and the end of A Study in Scarlet didn't exactly leave them with a lot to talk about, but I made some suggestions about a deeper thematic idea that might carry over into The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, which they're going to start for next week.
The SF students get to start Oryx and Crake, and I can't wait to find out what they think about it.
I do have to mention that there is one student in the SF class who is so completely clueless and lost that I hardly know how to talk to him. He can't understand the readings at all, and on Tuesday he said he wanted to come to my office to talk about it but not during my office hour, which isn't convenient for him. I said he should send me an e-mail from his student account so we could set up a time. Today he came to class about 40 minutes late, then came up to me to say he can't figure out how to use his student e-mail.
I should explain that the college sends vital information to students through their campus e-mail addresses. Every student has a campus e-mail address automatically, immediately upon registering. He's in sophomore level classes--and he has never used his student e-mail and can't figure out how. "Lost" is inadequate to cover how completely unprepared and out of it he is. How on earth did he get this far?
I told him how to get to his e-mail and suggested he go to one of the computer labs on campus for help getting it set up. But this is one of those situations when I wish it were at all ethical to pull him aside and say, "Listen: college isn't for you. You should figure out something that you want to do for a living that doesn't require a college education and go be brilliantly successful at that."
I won't even get into a discussion of the student in M&D who registered late, has been absent twice, and was 40 minutes late today. Or the student in M&D who decided that he'd be better off reading the graphic novel of A Study in Scarlet as a better option than simply looking up the summary online. (Well, yes, on a scale from bad to worse, that was the marginally better choice, but still.) I won't sigh and wring my hands over the students who are going AWOL in the lit electives: I'm glad to have fewer bodies in there, truly, but I do wish they'd officially withdraw.
Instead, I'll talk about how great it was to read the discussion board posts from the 101 students. They're not all doing it, of course, and some are doing a pretty dreadful job, but the ones who are doing it well are really doing it well: they're bouncing ideas off each other, bringing up things they forgot to mention in class (or didn't have time to, or that have occurred to them since). Those discussion board posts are a treat to read, and I have a blast joining in the conversation. I like the idea of doing more of this kind of thing: it's good writing practice for them (even though the writing is pretty dreadful in a few instances), and it does let them think a little more about the readings than they might otherwise have a chance to do.
And that, I think, is a good place to end the week. I already have my little bag of work packed to carry to Advisement on Monday (and please heaven I won't have to see any students but will just be able to work on my stuff), and as the dusk builds, I will toddle off to spend three days mixing relaxation, life maintenance, and girding my loins for the first full, normal week of the semester starting Monday. Wish us all luck.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Feeling discouraged
I've done the rereading of both novels, so I'm at least that prepared for classes tomorrow, but I find I'm feeling too discouraged to face another round of reading responses, after the marathon to complete the last batches yesterday. And I'm even more discouraged about the 101. Several students have been AWOL: two of the students missed the last two classes in a row, and one of them had already missed a class before that, so she's on her third absence already, not to mention that she missed the class when I went over discussion board posts (and she hasn't done any) as well as the library day. I sent out an e-mail to all students, letting them know that the handout I'd forgotten to distribute on Monday is on my office door--and the only student to respond to that so far is the other AWOL student, and he was a week behind what's required on the syllabus: his e-mail asked if he was right that last Monday's assignments would be due this coming Monday.
The students who are showing up are great, and I think they're learning--possibly not so much about writing yet, but something about reading and thinking. But of course the ones who most need to be there are the ones who are AWOL. And I can't be supportive and encouraging if they're not there. I don't like the fact that they may be doing a metaphoric face-plant into the hard pavement of responsibility, mostly because I don't want the class to get too tiny too soon. But there is also a limit to how much I can protect them from their own actions--and how much I should protect them. I prefer it if I can let them bounce twice before they splat, but again, sometimes I can't be there to provide the trampoline. As it were.
In this kind of mood, I wonder if I'll have the needed stamina to keep on doing this for who knows how many more years or if I'll start making compromises that I don't like to contemplate just so I can get through another round of student assignments.
It's a gorgeous, sunny day, absolutely stunningly beautiful, and I feel wrapped in grey, thinking about it.
The obvious solution is, don't think about it and get out there to enjoy the rest of the glorious afternoon. I am going to put the responses aside; it will make more work for me leading into Tuesday--and I still have to do all the marking of preliminary essays for the 101 class--but I think I'm hitting the point of diminishing returns. It's better for me to face the student assignments when I'm in a calmer and more relaxed frame of mind, so, well, I'll do the Scarlett O'Hara thing.
And it really is a gorgeous day.
The students who are showing up are great, and I think they're learning--possibly not so much about writing yet, but something about reading and thinking. But of course the ones who most need to be there are the ones who are AWOL. And I can't be supportive and encouraging if they're not there. I don't like the fact that they may be doing a metaphoric face-plant into the hard pavement of responsibility, mostly because I don't want the class to get too tiny too soon. But there is also a limit to how much I can protect them from their own actions--and how much I should protect them. I prefer it if I can let them bounce twice before they splat, but again, sometimes I can't be there to provide the trampoline. As it were.
In this kind of mood, I wonder if I'll have the needed stamina to keep on doing this for who knows how many more years or if I'll start making compromises that I don't like to contemplate just so I can get through another round of student assignments.
It's a gorgeous, sunny day, absolutely stunningly beautiful, and I feel wrapped in grey, thinking about it.
The obvious solution is, don't think about it and get out there to enjoy the rest of the glorious afternoon. I am going to put the responses aside; it will make more work for me leading into Tuesday--and I still have to do all the marking of preliminary essays for the 101 class--but I think I'm hitting the point of diminishing returns. It's better for me to face the student assignments when I'm in a calmer and more relaxed frame of mind, so, well, I'll do the Scarlett O'Hara thing.
And it really is a gorgeous day.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Group work: pretty necessary
For various reasons, in both the electives today, I opted not to go with group work--and in both cases, I saw the value of groups in terms of getting the more shaky/reticent students involved in the conversation. However, in both classes, things ended up working well enough. In the SF class, I demonstrated how to move from a simple observation ("There's a lot of stuff about animals in Androids") to a more important, thematic idea ("Looking at the evidence, what can we say the novel suggests about empathy?"). Students loved seeing the ideas on the board (diligently taking notes)--and although the class discussion was confined pretty much to 6 or 7 students, the rest not saying anything (and a few nodding off), the comments and questions connected pretty well to what was on the board.
By the way, Mr. Difficult (or whatever I've been calling him: the borderline hostile student) was there again. He mostly read during class, but he said that he actually gets a lot ideas out of group work. I am beginning to think he truly isn't hostile; he just seems that way because he's both very bright and profoundly impatient. I keep going back and forth on what's going on with him, but I'll continue to gently encourage him to play with others, as it were.
In M&D, the students were pretty silent and apparently disengaged when we were talking about the middle chunk of A Study in Scarlet--which is understandable, as the story very abruptly shifts to an omniscient narrator and an apparently completely disconnected back story. There are clues that somehow the back story will connect with the mystery of the first part, but it's easy to get lost. Still, I was very happy that a few of the students who are normally silent were willing to jump in with some questions or observations. I didn't press the discussion very hard or far; I shifted pretty quickly into showing the first chunk of the TV Sherlock's first episode, "A Study in Pink." I was delighted that it was new to all but about 3 students--and I told them to pay careful attention to the ways in which it followed the original story and the ways in which it tweaked things. They loved it (of course)--and they were infinitely more engaged when it came time to make the connections from the book to the TV version and back again. Lively, intelligent comments and observations. I think they're a little disappointed that the primary focus of Thursday's class will be on discussion of the final chunk of the book: they want to get back to the TV show. But we will watch the remainder of it, though we may need to finish up next Tuesday. (I don't remember how long it is--which means I "have to" take the DVD home tonight and time out the rest of the episode, imagine my dismay.)
I did get everything marked and returned today--in part because I've pretty much stopped commenting on their responses. There are a few students in each class who need to come talk to me; I'll be interested to see if they actually follow up on my suggestion that they make a point to spend time with me in order to improve. Some of them are simply not interested in putting in any particular effort--or don't think they can learn to do anything more than what they're already doing (the expectation of failure that's been beaten into them over the years)--but a few are anxious to improve, so I hope they make that little bit of effort and get to my office. I finally did a little bit of the talk about how to improve responses in the SF class--though I didn't spend as long as I could have on the reason why simply copying ideas from someone else's summary is a bad idea. I'm getting somewhat tired of harping on what needs to go into responses, but I think they're finally getting the idea that the responses can be beneficial when it comes time to write their papers.
And I know fully and completely that when I get their first papers, I'll be frustrated and disappointed by most of them. I hate to say that I'm hoping a few of them bail before that point, as I honestly don't know how I'll get all the papers marked if the classes stay as big as they are. The former student who was in the SF class is no longer: he officially withdrew yesterday (after my big, fierce lecture about his coming to class unprepared). The two former students in M&D are holding steady, though one of them was absent today--but another student has stopped attending, and I think she's fled. (That reminds me: we have to do the first "census" of our classes this week. Put that on the "to do" list, Prof. P.) Others are sure to flee once they get their first essays back graded.
And I realize that I'm contemplating relaxing my very high standards for their papers. I hate it, but I also am trying to find a balance between what I think they should be able to do and what they actually are able to do. The problem is, some of the students can achieve high marks even with my standards at their usual high level. It's that vast middle ground, between the obvious fails and the obvious A's that is perplexing to me. I just don't know where to set the bar for the B, C, D grades....
Well, that's a dilemma for another day. For now, I'm completely exhausted and need to noodle around a little, just to let go of the day, and then get out of here. I may post tomorrow, depending on how I feel about the work I get done (or don't). I'm glad I don't have to get up to an alarm; I'm glad I can mark assignments and read the books without interruptions by students wanting advisement or my class schedule. But I have to say, this whole working for a living thing is highly overrated.
By the way, Mr. Difficult (or whatever I've been calling him: the borderline hostile student) was there again. He mostly read during class, but he said that he actually gets a lot ideas out of group work. I am beginning to think he truly isn't hostile; he just seems that way because he's both very bright and profoundly impatient. I keep going back and forth on what's going on with him, but I'll continue to gently encourage him to play with others, as it were.
In M&D, the students were pretty silent and apparently disengaged when we were talking about the middle chunk of A Study in Scarlet--which is understandable, as the story very abruptly shifts to an omniscient narrator and an apparently completely disconnected back story. There are clues that somehow the back story will connect with the mystery of the first part, but it's easy to get lost. Still, I was very happy that a few of the students who are normally silent were willing to jump in with some questions or observations. I didn't press the discussion very hard or far; I shifted pretty quickly into showing the first chunk of the TV Sherlock's first episode, "A Study in Pink." I was delighted that it was new to all but about 3 students--and I told them to pay careful attention to the ways in which it followed the original story and the ways in which it tweaked things. They loved it (of course)--and they were infinitely more engaged when it came time to make the connections from the book to the TV version and back again. Lively, intelligent comments and observations. I think they're a little disappointed that the primary focus of Thursday's class will be on discussion of the final chunk of the book: they want to get back to the TV show. But we will watch the remainder of it, though we may need to finish up next Tuesday. (I don't remember how long it is--which means I "have to" take the DVD home tonight and time out the rest of the episode, imagine my dismay.)
I did get everything marked and returned today--in part because I've pretty much stopped commenting on their responses. There are a few students in each class who need to come talk to me; I'll be interested to see if they actually follow up on my suggestion that they make a point to spend time with me in order to improve. Some of them are simply not interested in putting in any particular effort--or don't think they can learn to do anything more than what they're already doing (the expectation of failure that's been beaten into them over the years)--but a few are anxious to improve, so I hope they make that little bit of effort and get to my office. I finally did a little bit of the talk about how to improve responses in the SF class--though I didn't spend as long as I could have on the reason why simply copying ideas from someone else's summary is a bad idea. I'm getting somewhat tired of harping on what needs to go into responses, but I think they're finally getting the idea that the responses can be beneficial when it comes time to write their papers.
And I know fully and completely that when I get their first papers, I'll be frustrated and disappointed by most of them. I hate to say that I'm hoping a few of them bail before that point, as I honestly don't know how I'll get all the papers marked if the classes stay as big as they are. The former student who was in the SF class is no longer: he officially withdrew yesterday (after my big, fierce lecture about his coming to class unprepared). The two former students in M&D are holding steady, though one of them was absent today--but another student has stopped attending, and I think she's fled. (That reminds me: we have to do the first "census" of our classes this week. Put that on the "to do" list, Prof. P.) Others are sure to flee once they get their first essays back graded.
And I realize that I'm contemplating relaxing my very high standards for their papers. I hate it, but I also am trying to find a balance between what I think they should be able to do and what they actually are able to do. The problem is, some of the students can achieve high marks even with my standards at their usual high level. It's that vast middle ground, between the obvious fails and the obvious A's that is perplexing to me. I just don't know where to set the bar for the B, C, D grades....
Well, that's a dilemma for another day. For now, I'm completely exhausted and need to noodle around a little, just to let go of the day, and then get out of here. I may post tomorrow, depending on how I feel about the work I get done (or don't). I'm glad I don't have to get up to an alarm; I'm glad I can mark assignments and read the books without interruptions by students wanting advisement or my class schedule. But I have to say, this whole working for a living thing is highly overrated.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Quick(ish) post
I have to get out of here pretty soon, and I feel unduly flurried: I didn't get everything marked for the 101 class today, as I ended up actually doing some advising in Advisement (who could imagine such a strange turn of events?), and I managed to forget the important handout for today, had a huge list of things I wanted to go over, didn't get very far... but it was a good enough class. I hate that I don't see them again until next week, but then we settle down for a while.
I have a lot of stuff to mark for the two electives, too, and I know there is no way I can get it all marked before the first class tomorrow--and there won't be any other time tomorrow, so this time I'll make sure I have everything for the SF class and the M&D class will have to survive without feedback until Thursday. I am definitely taking work home on Wednesday: whether marking student assignments is some kind of atonement, I won't try to ascertain, but I will spend the Day of Atonement doing precisely that. I have to get most if not all of it done, too, as Thursday starts with a Seminar Hours meeting, then there's an MDC event that I will attend if I am not too rattled and exhausted by the madness of all things seminar, then I have the SF class, and one little measly office hour in which to try to finish up anything that's still lingering for the M&D class--but I also want to be at least mostly caught up for the 101 on Monday.
And here we go 'round the prickly pear.
I had two nice one-on-one meetings with students today. They took time I might otherwise have spent on marking stuff, but meeting with students is always time well spent, in my estimation. The first was during my office hour: a student from SF e-mailed me over the weekend to say that she wasn't happy with her marks on her reading responses and wanted to talk with me about them. I am always impressed when a student wants to figure out how to do better while it's still early enough to do something different. She's actually making decent marks, but she was disappointed that her marks weren't improving. English is not her first language, and she has never read SF before, so she's struggling to make sense of things. I realize how much I take for granted about what can be deduced from very little information in SF. There's mention of "the colonies"--and even without other information about where those colonies are located, for anyone who reads SF at all, it's clear that the colonies are off world, whether on Mars or on space stations or in different solar systems doesn't matter. But she was baffled. Part of the problem, however, was that she hadn't looked up the word "colony"--and somehow, despite knowing about the 13 Colonies of the proto-U.S., she didn't know what a "colony" is. So, that's part of what she learned by sitting with me.
But she also figured out something about asking questions--"Is this character an android? Here's the evidence that would suggest yes; here's the evidence that would suggest no"--and about moving from an observation to an awareness of something significant: "I notice that animals are very important; everyone wants one and real ones are very expensive. Why might it be so important to have an animal, especially a real one? Here are all the places where people are talking about animals: what might I gather from what is said and how people in the novel behave?" Then she figured out something about the connection between reading responses and writing essays: "Oh, I want to write something about that thing about animals: where was that? What ideas did I have? What came up in class discussion? What did Prof. P say?"
So I asked her if she'd be willing for me to explain to the rest of the class what happened in our meeting so they can learn from her experience. She also mentioned that she was struggling to understand, and some of her classmates said they'd just gone online and looked up a summary; I assured her that she is doing the right thing, and her classmates are doing themselves a deep disservice by going to "cheater" sites.
That, in turn, leads me to reflect that, in the future, I will not ask for any summary: just for their questions, ideas, thoughts. Hard to have any of those about something specific in what you've read if you haven't actually done the reading and are just relying on an online summary.
The other pleasant encounter with a student was the young woman who came to see me as a mentor. She's highly self-motivated and probably doesn't need mentoring at all, but I'm happy to help her out. And she may be the only student I see all semester, the way things are going.
But the bells just rang, telling me that it's time for me to go--so, more tomorrow... whether the sun comes out or not, whether I'm stronger or not....
I have a lot of stuff to mark for the two electives, too, and I know there is no way I can get it all marked before the first class tomorrow--and there won't be any other time tomorrow, so this time I'll make sure I have everything for the SF class and the M&D class will have to survive without feedback until Thursday. I am definitely taking work home on Wednesday: whether marking student assignments is some kind of atonement, I won't try to ascertain, but I will spend the Day of Atonement doing precisely that. I have to get most if not all of it done, too, as Thursday starts with a Seminar Hours meeting, then there's an MDC event that I will attend if I am not too rattled and exhausted by the madness of all things seminar, then I have the SF class, and one little measly office hour in which to try to finish up anything that's still lingering for the M&D class--but I also want to be at least mostly caught up for the 101 on Monday.
And here we go 'round the prickly pear.
I had two nice one-on-one meetings with students today. They took time I might otherwise have spent on marking stuff, but meeting with students is always time well spent, in my estimation. The first was during my office hour: a student from SF e-mailed me over the weekend to say that she wasn't happy with her marks on her reading responses and wanted to talk with me about them. I am always impressed when a student wants to figure out how to do better while it's still early enough to do something different. She's actually making decent marks, but she was disappointed that her marks weren't improving. English is not her first language, and she has never read SF before, so she's struggling to make sense of things. I realize how much I take for granted about what can be deduced from very little information in SF. There's mention of "the colonies"--and even without other information about where those colonies are located, for anyone who reads SF at all, it's clear that the colonies are off world, whether on Mars or on space stations or in different solar systems doesn't matter. But she was baffled. Part of the problem, however, was that she hadn't looked up the word "colony"--and somehow, despite knowing about the 13 Colonies of the proto-U.S., she didn't know what a "colony" is. So, that's part of what she learned by sitting with me.
But she also figured out something about asking questions--"Is this character an android? Here's the evidence that would suggest yes; here's the evidence that would suggest no"--and about moving from an observation to an awareness of something significant: "I notice that animals are very important; everyone wants one and real ones are very expensive. Why might it be so important to have an animal, especially a real one? Here are all the places where people are talking about animals: what might I gather from what is said and how people in the novel behave?" Then she figured out something about the connection between reading responses and writing essays: "Oh, I want to write something about that thing about animals: where was that? What ideas did I have? What came up in class discussion? What did Prof. P say?"
So I asked her if she'd be willing for me to explain to the rest of the class what happened in our meeting so they can learn from her experience. She also mentioned that she was struggling to understand, and some of her classmates said they'd just gone online and looked up a summary; I assured her that she is doing the right thing, and her classmates are doing themselves a deep disservice by going to "cheater" sites.
That, in turn, leads me to reflect that, in the future, I will not ask for any summary: just for their questions, ideas, thoughts. Hard to have any of those about something specific in what you've read if you haven't actually done the reading and are just relying on an online summary.
The other pleasant encounter with a student was the young woman who came to see me as a mentor. She's highly self-motivated and probably doesn't need mentoring at all, but I'm happy to help her out. And she may be the only student I see all semester, the way things are going.
But the bells just rang, telling me that it's time for me to go--so, more tomorrow... whether the sun comes out or not, whether I'm stronger or not....
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