Wednesday, February 29, 2012
P.S.
It occurs to me that I have no idea how many people are following this blog, even semi-regularly. I know of a few, because they tell me about it, but I'd like to take a head count--just for my own curiosity. So if you're reading, please add a comment to this post. If for some reason you can't post a comment, send me an e-mail letting me know. I know some people have been unable to become "official" followers (I don't understand why), and I'm considering exporting the whole magillah to another platform that may be more reader-friendly. So, let me know if you're out there, if you've tried to comment unsuccessfully, if you've tried to become a follower unsuccessfully. Enquiring Minds Want to Know.
Oy
Today felt like a much longer day than it actually was. I got in about 9, graded a couple of papers before heading over to Advisement; graded a few more at Advisement--and actually did advise a few students, as well as doing some other stuff (including a little flat-out noodling). Earlier I had had one of those "oh shit" moments, when I thought I'd forgotten to update a set of study questions that my 102 class needs for next week, so I took my flash drive with me to Advisement--and discovered that I had updated the questions (I have no idea when; I didn't check the document date, simply being relieved that I'd done it). I fixed a few little bits and now I've uploaded the questions to my home page, so any eager beavers can get an early start on the questions; I'll pass out the handout in class on Monday.
Now I just have to remember to make the photocopies.
Another "Oh shit" moment: my Native American Lit students said they'd like to workshop a mini-paper or two, if we get the chance, so I need to photocopy the volunteer papers before tomorrow's class. I've got plenty of time to do that; I just need not to forget. And I need to mark their journals and mini-papers, so they have them before they have to write their big papers, due next week. I'm on the fence about whether to swap assignments (as I will have to do for the Nature in Lit students), moving their journal/logs to Tuesday and the papers to Thursday. We'll see how tomorrow goes, I reckon.
My desk is madly silting up with a thousand other things I have to pay attention to. I tend to blissfully forget that this will happen and am shocked when it does. There is a kind of amnesia I experience, which I realize is a form of self-protection. If I carried with me at all times the memory of how hairy things can get, I wouldn't be able to face this job at all.
Today's class was OK. They're not the most scintillating bunch, I have to say, but they seemed to be doing better work on the poems than they were on Monday. One student interaction I missed, but it's cause for concern: Kayla told me that one student snapped at his group and made everyone defensive. One of his group-mates was struggling to understand the poem under discussion, and he said something along the lines of "the interpretation would be obvious to anyone who had done the homework." Kayla gently said that there are multiple interpretations possible, and that just because someone has a different interpretation, it doesn't mean he or she hasn't done the homework. This young man is a potential problem in terms of the social structure of the class. He is more than a little arrogant--and also deeply insecure (how often the two go hand in hand)--so he tends to dismiss a lot of what's going on as "obvious," frequently missing something that isn't so obvious in the process. I'm interested that he has yet to "misbehave" with his peers while I'm around; Kayla has seen his thorny behavior in groups several times. I can manage his arrogance in the whole-class discussion, but it's more important to keep him from infuriating his classmates--and I've not been there to address it directly.
Returning to the topic of grading their papers, Ms. Chip--as in has one on her shoulder--got the gloves-off treatment from me on hers: "As a first version, this could have given you something to work on. As a final version, it meets none of the required parameters for college-level writing. This is clearly unconsidered and thrown together, as if tossed off, casual work will suffice. It will not." Grade: F. I foresee several possible outcomes from that harsh a response. 1) She'll be angry and flounce about--and possibly drop the class. 2) She'll shrug it off: "See? I'm no good at English" or "See? The professor is an unreasonable bitch." 3) She'll get a wake-up call and will put some effort into her work from now on. The order of those possibilities reflects where I'd place my bets. I can't get a read on her. Today, she made a couple of reasonable contributions to the class discussion. They weren't terrific, but they weren't terrible--and she got some encouragement from me for them. But her written work is clearly thrown together with as little energy expended as possible. Her efforts are simply too sporadic, haphazard, inconsistent. If she wants to talk to me, I'll say precisely that. Essentially, she has to choose where she wants to put her energy--and if she doesn't choose to put it into class, she'll have to take her lumps.
There's also a charmingly energetic student in that class who is clearly struggling--she of the utterly missed first paper. She didn't have her journal/logs in class today (she was the one who set Mr. Arrogance off), and she seems determined to believe she cannot understand poetry. (We talk something over with the class as a whole, and she sits there shaking her head "no, no, no.") But she was brave enough to admit she was confused, and when I worked through an image that she asked about, she said she was still confused--and asked the rest of the class to be honest about whether they were. They were. So I talked them through what I'd done, working on connotations, associations, drawing inferences--and said that the process is the same even when readers come up with different interpretations. It's no more complicated than that, I said. But that doesn't mean it's easy; it just isn't complicated. (That idea always blows their minds: that something can be simple but difficult. True fact, as my father would have said.) There is no arcane mystery to it: one "simply" works through the language of the text.
But I'm now practically reeling, and need to get myself home. I'll see how early I can get myself in tomorrow, how much I can accomplish. I have a meeting, dammit, which puts a crimp in my day, but I just need to have everything for tomorrow's classes taken care of. Any grading of 102 papers that I accomplish on top of that is a bonus, that much less to do over the weekend.
Now I just have to remember to make the photocopies.
Another "Oh shit" moment: my Native American Lit students said they'd like to workshop a mini-paper or two, if we get the chance, so I need to photocopy the volunteer papers before tomorrow's class. I've got plenty of time to do that; I just need not to forget. And I need to mark their journals and mini-papers, so they have them before they have to write their big papers, due next week. I'm on the fence about whether to swap assignments (as I will have to do for the Nature in Lit students), moving their journal/logs to Tuesday and the papers to Thursday. We'll see how tomorrow goes, I reckon.
My desk is madly silting up with a thousand other things I have to pay attention to. I tend to blissfully forget that this will happen and am shocked when it does. There is a kind of amnesia I experience, which I realize is a form of self-protection. If I carried with me at all times the memory of how hairy things can get, I wouldn't be able to face this job at all.
Today's class was OK. They're not the most scintillating bunch, I have to say, but they seemed to be doing better work on the poems than they were on Monday. One student interaction I missed, but it's cause for concern: Kayla told me that one student snapped at his group and made everyone defensive. One of his group-mates was struggling to understand the poem under discussion, and he said something along the lines of "the interpretation would be obvious to anyone who had done the homework." Kayla gently said that there are multiple interpretations possible, and that just because someone has a different interpretation, it doesn't mean he or she hasn't done the homework. This young man is a potential problem in terms of the social structure of the class. He is more than a little arrogant--and also deeply insecure (how often the two go hand in hand)--so he tends to dismiss a lot of what's going on as "obvious," frequently missing something that isn't so obvious in the process. I'm interested that he has yet to "misbehave" with his peers while I'm around; Kayla has seen his thorny behavior in groups several times. I can manage his arrogance in the whole-class discussion, but it's more important to keep him from infuriating his classmates--and I've not been there to address it directly.
Returning to the topic of grading their papers, Ms. Chip--as in has one on her shoulder--got the gloves-off treatment from me on hers: "As a first version, this could have given you something to work on. As a final version, it meets none of the required parameters for college-level writing. This is clearly unconsidered and thrown together, as if tossed off, casual work will suffice. It will not." Grade: F. I foresee several possible outcomes from that harsh a response. 1) She'll be angry and flounce about--and possibly drop the class. 2) She'll shrug it off: "See? I'm no good at English" or "See? The professor is an unreasonable bitch." 3) She'll get a wake-up call and will put some effort into her work from now on. The order of those possibilities reflects where I'd place my bets. I can't get a read on her. Today, she made a couple of reasonable contributions to the class discussion. They weren't terrific, but they weren't terrible--and she got some encouragement from me for them. But her written work is clearly thrown together with as little energy expended as possible. Her efforts are simply too sporadic, haphazard, inconsistent. If she wants to talk to me, I'll say precisely that. Essentially, she has to choose where she wants to put her energy--and if she doesn't choose to put it into class, she'll have to take her lumps.
There's also a charmingly energetic student in that class who is clearly struggling--she of the utterly missed first paper. She didn't have her journal/logs in class today (she was the one who set Mr. Arrogance off), and she seems determined to believe she cannot understand poetry. (We talk something over with the class as a whole, and she sits there shaking her head "no, no, no.") But she was brave enough to admit she was confused, and when I worked through an image that she asked about, she said she was still confused--and asked the rest of the class to be honest about whether they were. They were. So I talked them through what I'd done, working on connotations, associations, drawing inferences--and said that the process is the same even when readers come up with different interpretations. It's no more complicated than that, I said. But that doesn't mean it's easy; it just isn't complicated. (That idea always blows their minds: that something can be simple but difficult. True fact, as my father would have said.) There is no arcane mystery to it: one "simply" works through the language of the text.
But I'm now practically reeling, and need to get myself home. I'll see how early I can get myself in tomorrow, how much I can accomplish. I have a meeting, dammit, which puts a crimp in my day, but I just need to have everything for tomorrow's classes taken care of. Any grading of 102 papers that I accomplish on top of that is a bonus, that much less to do over the weekend.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Almost didn't make it
I was so exhausted this morning, I very nearly went back to bed and stayed there. I did go back to bed for a while (fortunately I was awake early enough that I could), but I realized I was lying there with my brains racing. I lay still for a while, giving my body a while to recover some energy, but I knew a day at home would be counter-productive, so I brought myself in to work--and did everything I had to do: meeting, P&B, and class.
I had to read the riot act to two students in Native American lit. They're sweet boys, both of them, but one has turned in three assignments (poorly done) and one has turned in nothing. I told them that they have a decision to make: they need to start coming to class prepared, having done the reading, done the homework, done paper assignments, ready to participate, every day--or they simply will not pass the class. And they need to start doing that as of Thursday. There is no more time to get caught up, or get in gear: it's now or never. I wasn't mean (I don't think), but I was very firm. So the next question is whether I do as Paul does and toss them out of class if they show up again unprepared. I think the answer has to be "yes." I hate to do that, but--as I said to them--they aren't learning anything if they're not doing the work.
I think both of them are intimidated by the women in the class, who all seem to understand everything we read and have interesting things to say about it. I reminded both young men that they should feel very free to bring questions to class: that their questions will help the other students think more carefully about things they may have overlooked. And even if not, it's still their education: they need to be sure they get the understand they're paying for.
We'll see.
On the other end of the spectrum, one of the young women was annoyed with her grade on her homework. I wrestled with her about the fact that she needed to sit down with me to talk about what's going on, that I couldn't in six seconds say "You need to do X" and solve the problem. She was full of excuses about why she couldn't meet with me--but as it turned out, I let the class go early, so we took a few minutes to look at the homework she was complaining about. And what do you know: she'd left out the "explain" part. First she tried to tell me that the assignment sheet didn't say she had to explain anything, but when we looked at it again--well, what do you know: there it was, right there. She had the good grace to apologize, but she's a bit of a piece of work, that one, and I'm going to have a hard time persuading her that she may not be quite as magnificent as she thinks she is.
Oh, and Mr. Irrepressible repressed himself right out of the class: he withdrew today, with the "my grandmother has been ill" excuse. She's getting better, he said, but too late to help him in this class. Right.
And although I did throw a few minor snit-fits about promotion folders, I talked to the two mentees who still had bits that needed fixing, and now I can officially wash my hands of the whole thing. P&B could have been over in about 20 minutes today, but one member raised a bunch of questions that, honestly, I don't think were within the P&B purview, but they are areas of legitimate concern to the department (and college) as a whole. I got impatient with the discussion, but that says more about me than it does the necessity of the conversation.
In fact, Paul and I just had a conversation about the college as a whole. I realize more and more that what we as faculty mean by "education" is something very different from what the administration means--and until we address that fundamental disjunction in the basic premise of the "conversation," we cannot possibly communicate with each other. I think the faculty know that this is the problem, but I don't think anyone has clearly articulated it--nor has anyone expressed it precisely to the administration. I'd love to think that I'll stand up in a Board of Trustees meeting and lay it out there, but--again, as I just said to Paul--I'm tired and cranky, and in order to say what I think needs to be said, I'd have to put a lot of time and energy into it, which I don't have.
There's also a minor brouhaha brewing over an elected position to the campus-wide Promotion and Tenure committee: a bunch of us are interested in running (including me--and yes, I've taken leave of my senses), but each department only gets one possible slot, so we don't want to run against each other. Long story, but there's going to be a straw ballot, so we can see which of us the department would be most likely to support. If it isn't me, I'll be relieved. If it is me, I'll have to run around like a madwoman getting my candidacy petition and statement of purpose ready by next week. (See? Lost my senses.) And right at the moment, I'm not even sure why I want to run (see "tired and cranky" above). But we'll see what the department thinks about my candidacy. If there isn't a clear majority in my favor, I'll graciously (and gratefully) bow out. And even if I do run, there's no guarantee I'll be elected: the vote is campus-wide, after all, and who knows who else might be up against me. If if if. Again, we'll see.
But now it's still light out, and I have at least one errand to run on the way home, so I'm going to read this over, post it, and then bow out for tonight.
I had to read the riot act to two students in Native American lit. They're sweet boys, both of them, but one has turned in three assignments (poorly done) and one has turned in nothing. I told them that they have a decision to make: they need to start coming to class prepared, having done the reading, done the homework, done paper assignments, ready to participate, every day--or they simply will not pass the class. And they need to start doing that as of Thursday. There is no more time to get caught up, or get in gear: it's now or never. I wasn't mean (I don't think), but I was very firm. So the next question is whether I do as Paul does and toss them out of class if they show up again unprepared. I think the answer has to be "yes." I hate to do that, but--as I said to them--they aren't learning anything if they're not doing the work.
I think both of them are intimidated by the women in the class, who all seem to understand everything we read and have interesting things to say about it. I reminded both young men that they should feel very free to bring questions to class: that their questions will help the other students think more carefully about things they may have overlooked. And even if not, it's still their education: they need to be sure they get the understand they're paying for.
We'll see.
On the other end of the spectrum, one of the young women was annoyed with her grade on her homework. I wrestled with her about the fact that she needed to sit down with me to talk about what's going on, that I couldn't in six seconds say "You need to do X" and solve the problem. She was full of excuses about why she couldn't meet with me--but as it turned out, I let the class go early, so we took a few minutes to look at the homework she was complaining about. And what do you know: she'd left out the "explain" part. First she tried to tell me that the assignment sheet didn't say she had to explain anything, but when we looked at it again--well, what do you know: there it was, right there. She had the good grace to apologize, but she's a bit of a piece of work, that one, and I'm going to have a hard time persuading her that she may not be quite as magnificent as she thinks she is.
Oh, and Mr. Irrepressible repressed himself right out of the class: he withdrew today, with the "my grandmother has been ill" excuse. She's getting better, he said, but too late to help him in this class. Right.
And although I did throw a few minor snit-fits about promotion folders, I talked to the two mentees who still had bits that needed fixing, and now I can officially wash my hands of the whole thing. P&B could have been over in about 20 minutes today, but one member raised a bunch of questions that, honestly, I don't think were within the P&B purview, but they are areas of legitimate concern to the department (and college) as a whole. I got impatient with the discussion, but that says more about me than it does the necessity of the conversation.
In fact, Paul and I just had a conversation about the college as a whole. I realize more and more that what we as faculty mean by "education" is something very different from what the administration means--and until we address that fundamental disjunction in the basic premise of the "conversation," we cannot possibly communicate with each other. I think the faculty know that this is the problem, but I don't think anyone has clearly articulated it--nor has anyone expressed it precisely to the administration. I'd love to think that I'll stand up in a Board of Trustees meeting and lay it out there, but--again, as I just said to Paul--I'm tired and cranky, and in order to say what I think needs to be said, I'd have to put a lot of time and energy into it, which I don't have.
There's also a minor brouhaha brewing over an elected position to the campus-wide Promotion and Tenure committee: a bunch of us are interested in running (including me--and yes, I've taken leave of my senses), but each department only gets one possible slot, so we don't want to run against each other. Long story, but there's going to be a straw ballot, so we can see which of us the department would be most likely to support. If it isn't me, I'll be relieved. If it is me, I'll have to run around like a madwoman getting my candidacy petition and statement of purpose ready by next week. (See? Lost my senses.) And right at the moment, I'm not even sure why I want to run (see "tired and cranky" above). But we'll see what the department thinks about my candidacy. If there isn't a clear majority in my favor, I'll graciously (and gratefully) bow out. And even if I do run, there's no guarantee I'll be elected: the vote is campus-wide, after all, and who knows who else might be up against me. If if if. Again, we'll see.
But now it's still light out, and I have at least one errand to run on the way home, so I'm going to read this over, post it, and then bow out for tonight.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Pulling teeth
I admit, freely, that I'm still recovering from a respiratory flu that I had over the break, so I'm no doubt unduly tired and cranky, but today's class was very hard. Kayla thought it went pretty well, but the students felt dull and flat and lifeless to me, and it was not quite but almost painful. They were working on the first poem of the semester, and honestly, in some regards, they did well: they did better than usual in terms of staying grounded in the specific words of the text instead of springing off into wild (and unfounded) interpretations right away. But I feel an enormous resistance from them about this work, and it's going to be hard to deal with.
Two students hadn't bothered to pick up their marked first versions of the papers that were due in final revised form today. I spoke to them after class, saying I was unsure what kind of revision they were capable of without feedback from me. The option was, keep the paper, rework it taking my comments into consideration, and take a late penalty--or simply accept the (no doubt painful) consequences of having worked without my comments. One of them didn't have his final version ready anyway, so he's going to work to respond to my comments. The other--who truly does have a chip on her shoulder the size of Alaska--opted just to take her lumps. OK. Kayla and I took a quick look at her paper, and I can tell you right now, without having to read it in detail, it doesn't pass.
And one student showed up today having missed the entire paper process. She wanted to know if she could turn in just the last one (no), or do all three versions on her own (too late)--and she was shocked, totally shocked, that 15% of her final grade is now a zero, even though the grade weights are very clearly stated in at least two different places. She wanted to know what the effect would be on her final grade. Answer: "Well, if you earn a 90 with all your other work, the best grade you could get is a 75." Shocked, I tell you! Jaw agape and shocked! We talked about it some, and I told her to stay in the class and do her absolute best work all the way to the end of the semester, at which point we can discuss her final grade. Privately, I'm holding in reserve the option of an incomplete--though we know what debacles those usually are. But equally privately, I'm not sanguine that she'll stay on top of everything well enough to earn the chance. It will be interesting to see what happens.
After observing me talk to the students, Kayla said, "You've gotten nice." Oh, it's early days yet. I'll get mean, trust me.
Sidebar: I do not, repeat do NOT, want to read their papers. I know I need to, but I truly do need to be stronger to face that.
I had a similarly difficult experience in Nature in Lit this morning. Two of the more lively students were not there, and of the ones who were there, only one had done even part of the reading. I talked to them rather gently about coming to class prepared--I don't want to scare them off--but on Thursday, if the whole group is there, I need to get severe. As in, "Do you need me to start throwing you out of class and refusing to allow you to make up work so you will take this seriously? I don't want to, but if you need me to, I will."
I also am being driven mad by the promotion folders, like being plagued by gnats. I truly should look over the folders for my three mentees, one last time, but I am irritated in the extreme--especially by their questions about where to put things and the stuff they want to include that is overkill. At this point, I'm half tempted to say, "It's your promotion. I've already given you my feedback. Do what you want with it; I have no further input. It's on you now." But I kind of can't: I do have a certain obligation here, and they're not in the least wrong to be concerned to get everything right, nor are they wrong to want the benefit of my feedback, as I have more experience with these things than they do. My irritation is not rational, but that makes it no less present and grating.
Sidebar #2: I'm not looking forward to the advent of daylight savings time. It's true that it's nice to have it still be light as I'm finishing my day (if I finish early enough), but I like the fact that it gets light pretty quickly even on my early morning alarm days. It's nice not to have to spend all morning under electric lights--but once we change the clocks, I'll be back to pitch darkness for most of my morning routine. Bummer
I had intended to get out of here pretty early tonight, but Kayla and I got talking--and it was a lovely conversation, about a great deal more than simply work. I enjoyed it so much I let it go on longer than I should have, and now it's dark and my voice is shot--and even though I know I'm tired, I'm going to have a hard time letting go of the day to wind down for sleep. Lots on the agenda tomorrow, too: a meeting (which may be somewhat torturous but I hope will be somewhat brief), organizing stuff, starting to grade those wretched papers maybe.... So, I need to get the flock out of here. Off I go.
Two students hadn't bothered to pick up their marked first versions of the papers that were due in final revised form today. I spoke to them after class, saying I was unsure what kind of revision they were capable of without feedback from me. The option was, keep the paper, rework it taking my comments into consideration, and take a late penalty--or simply accept the (no doubt painful) consequences of having worked without my comments. One of them didn't have his final version ready anyway, so he's going to work to respond to my comments. The other--who truly does have a chip on her shoulder the size of Alaska--opted just to take her lumps. OK. Kayla and I took a quick look at her paper, and I can tell you right now, without having to read it in detail, it doesn't pass.
And one student showed up today having missed the entire paper process. She wanted to know if she could turn in just the last one (no), or do all three versions on her own (too late)--and she was shocked, totally shocked, that 15% of her final grade is now a zero, even though the grade weights are very clearly stated in at least two different places. She wanted to know what the effect would be on her final grade. Answer: "Well, if you earn a 90 with all your other work, the best grade you could get is a 75." Shocked, I tell you! Jaw agape and shocked! We talked about it some, and I told her to stay in the class and do her absolute best work all the way to the end of the semester, at which point we can discuss her final grade. Privately, I'm holding in reserve the option of an incomplete--though we know what debacles those usually are. But equally privately, I'm not sanguine that she'll stay on top of everything well enough to earn the chance. It will be interesting to see what happens.
After observing me talk to the students, Kayla said, "You've gotten nice." Oh, it's early days yet. I'll get mean, trust me.
Sidebar: I do not, repeat do NOT, want to read their papers. I know I need to, but I truly do need to be stronger to face that.
I had a similarly difficult experience in Nature in Lit this morning. Two of the more lively students were not there, and of the ones who were there, only one had done even part of the reading. I talked to them rather gently about coming to class prepared--I don't want to scare them off--but on Thursday, if the whole group is there, I need to get severe. As in, "Do you need me to start throwing you out of class and refusing to allow you to make up work so you will take this seriously? I don't want to, but if you need me to, I will."
I also am being driven mad by the promotion folders, like being plagued by gnats. I truly should look over the folders for my three mentees, one last time, but I am irritated in the extreme--especially by their questions about where to put things and the stuff they want to include that is overkill. At this point, I'm half tempted to say, "It's your promotion. I've already given you my feedback. Do what you want with it; I have no further input. It's on you now." But I kind of can't: I do have a certain obligation here, and they're not in the least wrong to be concerned to get everything right, nor are they wrong to want the benefit of my feedback, as I have more experience with these things than they do. My irritation is not rational, but that makes it no less present and grating.
Sidebar #2: I'm not looking forward to the advent of daylight savings time. It's true that it's nice to have it still be light as I'm finishing my day (if I finish early enough), but I like the fact that it gets light pretty quickly even on my early morning alarm days. It's nice not to have to spend all morning under electric lights--but once we change the clocks, I'll be back to pitch darkness for most of my morning routine. Bummer
I had intended to get out of here pretty early tonight, but Kayla and I got talking--and it was a lovely conversation, about a great deal more than simply work. I enjoyed it so much I let it go on longer than I should have, and now it's dark and my voice is shot--and even though I know I'm tired, I'm going to have a hard time letting go of the day to wind down for sleep. Lots on the agenda tomorrow, too: a meeting (which may be somewhat torturous but I hope will be somewhat brief), organizing stuff, starting to grade those wretched papers maybe.... So, I need to get the flock out of here. Off I go.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Mid-day
In just a moment, I will turn my attention back to the stuff I want to get marked before Native American Lit meets this afternoon, but I won't have time to blog after class today (I'll be dashing home to get ready for tomorrow's flight to Arizona), so thought I'd dash off a post now. No classes next week, so I'm not anticipating any posts again until Feb. 27. Time is really whipping past.
I was delighted to see a student back in Nature in Lit today whom I thought we'd lost. That brings the attendees back up to seven. It was our first class in the conference room setting, and again, I like it. As I think I mentioned, on Monday they decided they'd like to workshop a couple of each other's papers, so we did that. I had to keep reminding them to talk to the author of the paper, not to me ("He's right there...")--and of course the students weren't picking up on some things that I see--but I think it was useful for them to have that experience of building objective distance. Certainly it was helpful for the two student authors. Wonder Student was particularly helpful in giving specific--and spot on--feedback. I particularly liked how he explained what an introductory paragraph should do. Interestingly enough, what he said is almost identical to how Paul said he talks about intros and theses to his students, yet I don't think Wonder Student had Paul as his professor (I'll have to ask). This may just be one of those "great minds think alike" moments--but I'm taking notes for the future.
The only thing I wasn't thrilled about is that it means we slighted the reading--but it was apparent that lot of them hadn't done the reading anyway. I hope to hell they read the Thoreau essay I've assigned for over the break--and that they remember they've got another mini-paper due the Monday we get back.
At the end of class, a couple of students talked to me about missing work, and for this class, at this point, I just want them to turn it in. I'm not going to fret too much about whether it's late. I want them doing the work, and I want them doing work of acceptable quality. And I want them in the class. Other than that, everything is flexible.
But now the Native American Lit assignments are calling to me. I do want to get them done before class--maybe even get some of the stuff I collected from Nature in Lit today marked--so I have as little as possible hanging over when I take off. I am not going to take any student work with me over the break: I'll return to it when we return to campus. Over the break, I have to finish reading the book I'm supposed to review and write the review: that's enough work for a week "off."
Signing off until end of the month....
I was delighted to see a student back in Nature in Lit today whom I thought we'd lost. That brings the attendees back up to seven. It was our first class in the conference room setting, and again, I like it. As I think I mentioned, on Monday they decided they'd like to workshop a couple of each other's papers, so we did that. I had to keep reminding them to talk to the author of the paper, not to me ("He's right there...")--and of course the students weren't picking up on some things that I see--but I think it was useful for them to have that experience of building objective distance. Certainly it was helpful for the two student authors. Wonder Student was particularly helpful in giving specific--and spot on--feedback. I particularly liked how he explained what an introductory paragraph should do. Interestingly enough, what he said is almost identical to how Paul said he talks about intros and theses to his students, yet I don't think Wonder Student had Paul as his professor (I'll have to ask). This may just be one of those "great minds think alike" moments--but I'm taking notes for the future.
The only thing I wasn't thrilled about is that it means we slighted the reading--but it was apparent that lot of them hadn't done the reading anyway. I hope to hell they read the Thoreau essay I've assigned for over the break--and that they remember they've got another mini-paper due the Monday we get back.
At the end of class, a couple of students talked to me about missing work, and for this class, at this point, I just want them to turn it in. I'm not going to fret too much about whether it's late. I want them doing the work, and I want them doing work of acceptable quality. And I want them in the class. Other than that, everything is flexible.
But now the Native American Lit assignments are calling to me. I do want to get them done before class--maybe even get some of the stuff I collected from Nature in Lit today marked--so I have as little as possible hanging over when I take off. I am not going to take any student work with me over the break: I'll return to it when we return to campus. Over the break, I have to finish reading the book I'm supposed to review and write the review: that's enough work for a week "off."
Signing off until end of the month....
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Answer: Yes, she can.
Got 'em done. Time to spare (thank god for a lack of students in Advisement--and no meeting of the faculty advisers, which we've had the past two Wednesdays). That's a huge sigh of relief.
In fact, it's such a load off to have them done, back to the students, and out of my hair that I keep almost forgetting that I have classes tomorrow--and a little bit of marking to do for Native American Lit. But it's really only a little bit, and I can easily get it done between classes.
So, here's the overview of the class today.
Frighteningly few students were there at the start of class, but a few showed up late (and one came to withdraw, which was a good plan on his part, as he's only been in class twice, I think). One student who had not turned in his first version had been conscientious about following the instructions for that eventuality, e-mailing me yesterday to ask what he needed to do for today's class. I told him--and apparently it was just too much, as he wasn't there today. Too bad, as I think he had potential, but the work does need to get done. He didn't do it.
Two students who turned in first versions weren't there at all (one is imploding in any event; I hope she has that realization soon and withdraws, as clearly class is dead last on her list of priorities). I had thought I'd call those two students to let them know their papers are marked and on my door for them to pick up--but then I reconsidered. If they care enough about their work to want my comments, they can e-mail me to ask about getting their papers back. If they don't, I'm not chasing them down. If they turn in their final versions with zero feedback from me, well, they'll just have to be judged on those results, which I assure you will not be good.
I didn't run the class the way I originally intended: no pairs, no partners, no peer anything. I told them that the instructions for what they were going to do with partners today should be what they do at home on their own as the last step before they turn in their final versions. Instead, I told them to start addressing my comments right there, right then. (In fact, I have a note to myself to change the instructions so we do things this way from now on: I just have to consider how much work I want them to do on their own before they come to second version day.)
Once I told them to look over my comments and start trying to respond to them, one student immediately came to me and wanted me to look at his whole paper, as he'd significantly revised since Monday. I told him no, that he needed to evaluate it to see if he thought he'd addressed my comments. He sat in the back of the room, looking rather shattered and lost, so at last I relented and took a look at his thesis. Lo and behold, he'd made exactly the right improvements on his own. I told him how well he'd done, and it was a delight to see his face light up.
Much to my surprise and delight, one young woman who I was sure would be in an utter snit about her grade--and who came in late (as usual: on Monday she missed the entire period, just showed up at the end to turn in her paper)--was actually fully engaged in the work, asking me questions, writing, thinking, writing some more. In fact, at the end of class I got a beautiful, beaming smile out of her as she suddenly got the idea about her thesis. "I think I just had an epiphany," she said. Big praise from the professor.
One young man who was very defensive in his peer review was a bit defensive about my comments, too. (I asked, "How are you doing?" and got a relatively snippy, "I don't know" in return.) But he finally asked a couple of good questions at the end, and I think he gets what he needs to do. I think. Again, he has a lot of potential, but his paper was a train-wreck. I told him that if his paper had been a philosophical exploration of ethics, it would have been grand, but it isn't. It's literary analysis, so he needs to stay within those very specific bounds. He said, "I'm going to have to change the whole way I think"--and I reminded him about my lecture the first day, that college will change them. Yes, I said, you will have to change how you think--but don't see it as having to completely give up the way you're used to thinking; just add this as another way to do it. He wasn't exactly smiling as he left, but he at least was reiterating his summation of how he needs to revise his approach: "In other words, I need to come down to earth." Yes, indeed.
One student showed up the last 15 minutes of class: she'd forgotten her paper at home and had to get it. I told her she'd get credit for having version 2 on time, and gave her the Cliff Notes edition of what she'd need to do before she submits the final version. She also listened in on a lot of what I was saying to the Philosopher, and I asked her if it was helpful. Yes--big smile. She's been painfully quiet so far this semester, and her work has been missing or inadequate, but I think she's starting to pull together. She's got a hell of a row to hoe over the break, turning the mess she submitted into an actual paper--but it was delightful to see the light come into her face when I talked with her.
In fact, it was a delight to see a lot of faces light up. Kayla and I have disagreed about one young man, Kayla thinking he's got less to offer than I see: his paper was not horrible but it was not good, either (so we're both sort of right). I finally went to check in on him (he hadn't called me over), and he had some good questions, listened intently to the answers. When I told him he was on the right track, there it was, that light in the face. Another student has been a puzzle: in group discussions she seems very bright, but her journals have been disappointing. Her paper, however, was the best of the bunch--and in fact, she got a couple of blue shiny stars. (I figured as long as I'm using the bozo error stamp, I should give them a reward when they do well. I was feeling very smug about this idea, until I found out that Paul's been doing it for ages. Damn that man; he's just too good at teaching.) But she seemed stuck, so I went over to talk to her--and in the course of my helping her out and providing encouragement, her face lit up a couple of times. Mr. Chip (on his shoulder) was struggling but coming up with really good stuff; I told him so, and, bing! There it was, the light in the face.
Only one student was deeply disappointing, and he's one of those young men who has a lot of native smarts and who can hold his own in discussion but who does not apply discipline to his work. I think it's one of those "real men aren't supposed to be smart and care about school" things, and that's an attitude that's hard to counteract--without someone like last semester's Bright Young Man to be there as a living exemplar of the opposite. Well, he'll either pull it together or he'll flame out. It'd be a shame to lose him, but he has to find the discipline and will on his own; I can't do that for him.
So, all in all a good day--and I am profoundly ready for tonight's steak and scotch debauch with Paul. The debauchery is entirely gustatory, unless having a headlong, free-ranging conversation with a good buddy counts as debauchery. But the food and drink will be completely sinful, and I cannot wait. Bring it on, baby.
In fact, it's such a load off to have them done, back to the students, and out of my hair that I keep almost forgetting that I have classes tomorrow--and a little bit of marking to do for Native American Lit. But it's really only a little bit, and I can easily get it done between classes.
So, here's the overview of the class today.
Frighteningly few students were there at the start of class, but a few showed up late (and one came to withdraw, which was a good plan on his part, as he's only been in class twice, I think). One student who had not turned in his first version had been conscientious about following the instructions for that eventuality, e-mailing me yesterday to ask what he needed to do for today's class. I told him--and apparently it was just too much, as he wasn't there today. Too bad, as I think he had potential, but the work does need to get done. He didn't do it.
Two students who turned in first versions weren't there at all (one is imploding in any event; I hope she has that realization soon and withdraws, as clearly class is dead last on her list of priorities). I had thought I'd call those two students to let them know their papers are marked and on my door for them to pick up--but then I reconsidered. If they care enough about their work to want my comments, they can e-mail me to ask about getting their papers back. If they don't, I'm not chasing them down. If they turn in their final versions with zero feedback from me, well, they'll just have to be judged on those results, which I assure you will not be good.
I didn't run the class the way I originally intended: no pairs, no partners, no peer anything. I told them that the instructions for what they were going to do with partners today should be what they do at home on their own as the last step before they turn in their final versions. Instead, I told them to start addressing my comments right there, right then. (In fact, I have a note to myself to change the instructions so we do things this way from now on: I just have to consider how much work I want them to do on their own before they come to second version day.)
Once I told them to look over my comments and start trying to respond to them, one student immediately came to me and wanted me to look at his whole paper, as he'd significantly revised since Monday. I told him no, that he needed to evaluate it to see if he thought he'd addressed my comments. He sat in the back of the room, looking rather shattered and lost, so at last I relented and took a look at his thesis. Lo and behold, he'd made exactly the right improvements on his own. I told him how well he'd done, and it was a delight to see his face light up.
Much to my surprise and delight, one young woman who I was sure would be in an utter snit about her grade--and who came in late (as usual: on Monday she missed the entire period, just showed up at the end to turn in her paper)--was actually fully engaged in the work, asking me questions, writing, thinking, writing some more. In fact, at the end of class I got a beautiful, beaming smile out of her as she suddenly got the idea about her thesis. "I think I just had an epiphany," she said. Big praise from the professor.
One young man who was very defensive in his peer review was a bit defensive about my comments, too. (I asked, "How are you doing?" and got a relatively snippy, "I don't know" in return.) But he finally asked a couple of good questions at the end, and I think he gets what he needs to do. I think. Again, he has a lot of potential, but his paper was a train-wreck. I told him that if his paper had been a philosophical exploration of ethics, it would have been grand, but it isn't. It's literary analysis, so he needs to stay within those very specific bounds. He said, "I'm going to have to change the whole way I think"--and I reminded him about my lecture the first day, that college will change them. Yes, I said, you will have to change how you think--but don't see it as having to completely give up the way you're used to thinking; just add this as another way to do it. He wasn't exactly smiling as he left, but he at least was reiterating his summation of how he needs to revise his approach: "In other words, I need to come down to earth." Yes, indeed.
One student showed up the last 15 minutes of class: she'd forgotten her paper at home and had to get it. I told her she'd get credit for having version 2 on time, and gave her the Cliff Notes edition of what she'd need to do before she submits the final version. She also listened in on a lot of what I was saying to the Philosopher, and I asked her if it was helpful. Yes--big smile. She's been painfully quiet so far this semester, and her work has been missing or inadequate, but I think she's starting to pull together. She's got a hell of a row to hoe over the break, turning the mess she submitted into an actual paper--but it was delightful to see the light come into her face when I talked with her.
In fact, it was a delight to see a lot of faces light up. Kayla and I have disagreed about one young man, Kayla thinking he's got less to offer than I see: his paper was not horrible but it was not good, either (so we're both sort of right). I finally went to check in on him (he hadn't called me over), and he had some good questions, listened intently to the answers. When I told him he was on the right track, there it was, that light in the face. Another student has been a puzzle: in group discussions she seems very bright, but her journals have been disappointing. Her paper, however, was the best of the bunch--and in fact, she got a couple of blue shiny stars. (I figured as long as I'm using the bozo error stamp, I should give them a reward when they do well. I was feeling very smug about this idea, until I found out that Paul's been doing it for ages. Damn that man; he's just too good at teaching.) But she seemed stuck, so I went over to talk to her--and in the course of my helping her out and providing encouragement, her face lit up a couple of times. Mr. Chip (on his shoulder) was struggling but coming up with really good stuff; I told him so, and, bing! There it was, the light in the face.
Only one student was deeply disappointing, and he's one of those young men who has a lot of native smarts and who can hold his own in discussion but who does not apply discipline to his work. I think it's one of those "real men aren't supposed to be smart and care about school" things, and that's an attitude that's hard to counteract--without someone like last semester's Bright Young Man to be there as a living exemplar of the opposite. Well, he'll either pull it together or he'll flame out. It'd be a shame to lose him, but he has to find the discipline and will on his own; I can't do that for him.
So, all in all a good day--and I am profoundly ready for tonight's steak and scotch debauch with Paul. The debauchery is entirely gustatory, unless having a headlong, free-ranging conversation with a good buddy counts as debauchery. But the food and drink will be completely sinful, and I cannot wait. Bring it on, baby.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Quick post: Can she do it?
I have about ten minutes to blog, then I race off to dance class. I'm only doing one, as I need to get home, hit myself over the head with a frying pan so I'll fall asleep, and get up early tomorrow because...
I have ten papers to grade tomorrow. I know I'll get 'em done, but I am going to have to churn through them--and bail on my Advisement time. I have no clue what happened to today, why I got so little done. Well, yes, I sort of do: I graded stuff for Native American Lit, and had to review some other people's promotion-folder letters for P&B, and visit the Human Resources office to review the personnel files for my mentees (only to find that I didn't check everything I need to check, so I have to go back, dammit all to hell). It really did need to be done, but, well, this is what happens. I also had to do ridiculous things like eat, and pee (so time consuming!)
I'm also still getting things prepped for the ASLE meeting this coming weekend. I just printed out a bunch of preparatory stuff (and yes, I'm aware of the irony of using all that paper for an environmentalist organization). But I can't absorb things as well when I read from a computer screen. I think there's been real research done on that, and that there is evidence that our brains really do process pixels on a screen differently (and less attentively) than print on paper. Ask your neuro-scientist friends if this is true.
Had the first class in the little conference room, and I'm happy with the arrangement. I think the students do feel more relaxed, more willing to talk. Three or four of the eight clearly hadn't done the reading--and although Mr. Irrepressible is doing a great job of keeping himself repressed (no burlap bags required), his homework is significantly lacking. He keeps saying he can't find any quotations to talk about--but then he said he wrote an analysis. OK, I said, where did the analysis come from? What quotations led to your conclusions? Gosh, what a concept! He now thinks he'll write his analysis first, then look for the quotations. Fine, I said, but I don't want to see the analysis without the quotations: I want him to follow the journal/log format I have set up. It astonishes me how much students resist that structure, which is intended to help them. (They like things concrete, but then I make them concrete and they rebel. Weird.)
I also had a lovely conversation with Shining Star after class. She is obviously bucking for an A (and perfectly capable of getting it), but we also got into just a general conversation. Among other things, when she lived in Santa Fe, she met the actor Wes Studi on a number of occasions. Cool. I'm also interested to note that although her demeanor in class is very reserved, even shy, and she looks very mild and gentle, her writing reveals a fierce and angry streak. Repressed fires in that woman, and I'll be very curious to see how they develop through the semester, whether she puts them to use in her work or whether they get in her way.
I'd say more but I'm out of time. This is another that gets flung on the wall with no editing, no proofing, not a second glance. Time to put on my dancing shoes.
I have ten papers to grade tomorrow. I know I'll get 'em done, but I am going to have to churn through them--and bail on my Advisement time. I have no clue what happened to today, why I got so little done. Well, yes, I sort of do: I graded stuff for Native American Lit, and had to review some other people's promotion-folder letters for P&B, and visit the Human Resources office to review the personnel files for my mentees (only to find that I didn't check everything I need to check, so I have to go back, dammit all to hell). It really did need to be done, but, well, this is what happens. I also had to do ridiculous things like eat, and pee (so time consuming!)
I'm also still getting things prepped for the ASLE meeting this coming weekend. I just printed out a bunch of preparatory stuff (and yes, I'm aware of the irony of using all that paper for an environmentalist organization). But I can't absorb things as well when I read from a computer screen. I think there's been real research done on that, and that there is evidence that our brains really do process pixels on a screen differently (and less attentively) than print on paper. Ask your neuro-scientist friends if this is true.
Had the first class in the little conference room, and I'm happy with the arrangement. I think the students do feel more relaxed, more willing to talk. Three or four of the eight clearly hadn't done the reading--and although Mr. Irrepressible is doing a great job of keeping himself repressed (no burlap bags required), his homework is significantly lacking. He keeps saying he can't find any quotations to talk about--but then he said he wrote an analysis. OK, I said, where did the analysis come from? What quotations led to your conclusions? Gosh, what a concept! He now thinks he'll write his analysis first, then look for the quotations. Fine, I said, but I don't want to see the analysis without the quotations: I want him to follow the journal/log format I have set up. It astonishes me how much students resist that structure, which is intended to help them. (They like things concrete, but then I make them concrete and they rebel. Weird.)
I also had a lovely conversation with Shining Star after class. She is obviously bucking for an A (and perfectly capable of getting it), but we also got into just a general conversation. Among other things, when she lived in Santa Fe, she met the actor Wes Studi on a number of occasions. Cool. I'm also interested to note that although her demeanor in class is very reserved, even shy, and she looks very mild and gentle, her writing reveals a fierce and angry streak. Repressed fires in that woman, and I'll be very curious to see how they develop through the semester, whether she puts them to use in her work or whether they get in her way.
I'd say more but I'm out of time. This is another that gets flung on the wall with no editing, no proofing, not a second glance. Time to put on my dancing shoes.
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