First, writing that wretched observation report took infinitely longer than I anticipated. I don't know if it's because I've forgotten how long it takes me to write the reports or if it's because I felt I had to include a lot more detail, laying the paper trail, as it were, for the "needs improvement" rating. I also had to run through it several times to remove some sugar-coating--and to get it to fit onto three pages (usually they only run two). But it's done, thank God. That's one unpleasant chore off the to-do list.
Of course, I also realized last night and earlier today that there were three more things to add to the list, but none of them are particularly unpleasant. They're just a few of the pearls that had rolled behind the furniture momentarily.
Classes were fine. The students in 102 are heroically trying to understand the research component of their final paper--and one student seems particularly unclear what it is he's looking for and why. He asked the lovely librarian who conducted the session, then asked me again--and he's asked before in class. I told him we'd go over it next class, and I think I may ask the other students to explain it to him. They may do a better job of it than I can--and it will help them feel secure in their own knowledge of what to do. A few students turned in huge wads of work that was due ages ago; at this point in the semester, I don't make a fuss about accepting it. I'm more invested in giving the students every opportunity to earn the best grades they can. I will have to remind myself not to comment much (the fact that they're late with the work doesn't mean I have to break my neck), but I'm glad to have the work--and will be glad that they have it when they're ready to start their papers.
I loved that when I arrived in the library classroom, three young men from the class were talking about the novel, checking in: "How far have you gotten?" One said he was eager to finish the book, and they were making predictions about what might happen. It's immensely gratifying that they're caught up in it.
After class, a student wanted to talk to me: he's one who is missing a lot of work, and he is struggling mightily to stay on track. However, he was concerned that his notes on the reading didn't focus on the gender topic, which is what most of them will write about in their papers. I assured him that the way he had read the novel was correct, that I don't want students to read the book just to pick out what the paper will be about but to experience the book as a whole--which he's been doing. Even though I haven't gotten some assignments from him, he seems to understand the novel and to respond to it well. I told him that I'm confident, if he looks over his notes, he will, in fact, see things about the gender issue: he may not have realized that was what he was seeing, but it will be there. And I reassured him: he's doing the best he can under difficult circumstances, and the best we can do is all anyone can ask.
The Mystery class was the usual chaos. I truly wonder what the senior observer thinks of the mayhem that ensues every class. The students were particularly batty today: I had to tell one in particular to dial down the responses, as she was getting a little too excited about some sexual humor that was running through the room. She and I actually had met earlier, during my office hour, and I think she has a much stronger sense of what is required in her papers. I was delighted that she already had a sense of where problems lay in her second paper, and once we started talking, the connections became infinitely more clear. She has a great deal of potential--largely because of her enthusiasm--but as she herself said, no one has taught her what real academic writing is until now. Another student talked to me after class ended (and it ended very early): she said I'm the hardest professor she's ever had--and here I'm thinking that I'm going so easy on them this term. I'm not sure what that goes to show, but it certainly goes to show something. However, both young women stated that they appreciate my standards--and the fact that they're finally learning what they need to know. That is tremendously gratifying.
A couple of the young women in that class have become friends, and they were hanging around being absolutely giggly and girly after class, shrieking with laughter. But I was delighted that one of them had clearly been waiting for her turn to talk to me. She's the Worker Bee, whom I made cry last class--and she wanted to know if she could turn in her paper late (yes) and if I'd accept her missing work on Tuesday (yes). She nearly leaped out of her skin with happiness and relief. She'd managed to get the entire weekend off work and plans to devote it to plowing through all the assignments she has yet to submit. In talking about her paper being late, I asked to see the two pages she'd been struggling with, as she said she'd developed writer's block. I read the first paragraph, and I could see why: no thesis. We talked about her ideas, and as we did, a thesis idea became much more clear to her. Score! Second one of the day.
I do feel disappointed that I had to bail on my dance lesson tonight--but I truly needed to get that observation report finished and to at least begin commenting on the stories to be workshopped on Monday. I know that I won't have any time in Advisement to do my own stuff (though I'll take some with me, just in case a miracle occurs)--and I can't keep bailing on my time in Advisement. Without tonight's head start, I wouldn't have a prayer of getting them read. In fact, I probably should take at least that much home with me--but as I stated to My Favorite Student (who also was hanging around after class, waiting for her next class to begin), I hate to bring work home. It's enough that I have to comb through the sabbatical application one last time, attending to a few suggestions for minor adjustments. I also have a lot of things on the calendar for the weekend, so I'm feeling a teeny bit frantic--and that means I'm truly unlikely to get any marking of student assignments done, even if I were to take them home. If a miracle occurs, I may come in to the office between events tomorrow to knock off a little more story reading--but I'm going on faith that I can get the rest done on Monday, even if I remember to open the door for my office hour. (I keep forgetting, and Judy Blue Eyes came by this past Monday, saw the closed door, and left....)
I hope I'm leaving everything in some kind of shape so it makes sense on Monday. I have well and truly hit the wall, just now: ain't nothing else coming out of this woman's brains.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Cleansing breath....
I just said goodnight to the problem adjunct--and god damn am I glad to have that done. (Deep, cleansing breath; deep, cleansing breath.) He did explain away some of my biggest concerns; I'm not entirely sure I believe him, but without any evidence to the contrary, I must simply treat him like an honorable professional and take his word about what he does. However, three concerns remained, so the ultimate evaluation is "needs improvement." I told him that, because of that rating, he'd be observed again in a future semester--and he said he may not be back. I'm not sure if that's because he feels like he's being hounded here or if there is some other reason--and I'm not taking it as gospel that he'll be gone. (Note his caveat that he "may" not be back.) So, I reiterated, if he does come back, we'll observe him again, specifically looking for improvement in the areas I mentioned. If he does come back, all I can say is, if there's another round of observations, I will recuse myself: my previous evaluations will weigh too heavily against any attempt at objectivity, and I think we need fresh eyes on the man.
I will say, he was gracious and polite about the whole thing--but I could feel him holding himself on a very tight rein. My guess is that, buried under the ultra-formal and soft-spoken demeanor, he is a profoundly angry man. But I do feel compassion for him (my goal in every part of my life). It can't be easy to feel under scrutiny, and to have not only one's methods but also, by inference, one's underlying professional philosophy called into question and considered inadequate. He does have another job, and I hope he can find great satisfaction and validation in that venue. I don't think he's going to find it here.
So, now I have to write the damned thing up--and he's being a stickler about the time frame: technically I have 10 days, but he wants it on Monday, one week from when I observed the class, and I'm more than happy to comply, simply to have the whole distasteful process behind me. I'll be happy to cross all the observation write-ups off my to-do list, in point of fact, though his is the only one that will be a challenge to my skills at diplomatic honesty.
(It occurs to me that maybe I need to also develop a "ta-dah!" list, celebrating the moments when I pull yet another I-got-it-done rabbit out of the too-much-on-my-plate hat.)
As I envision tomorrow's work load, I've been waffling about whether to finish marking at least the 102 assignments before leaping into the observation write-ups or not, and I think I'll split the difference. I'll write up this difficult observation report first. Then I'll do some grading. If I still have time before class (and around students coming to my office hour), I'll do more observations. Back and forth.
I have to say, today was mostly a lovely day, despite my slight anxiety about the looming conversation with the adjunct. This morning, when the alarm went off, I decided to turn the damned thing off and go back to sleep: to hell with Advisement. I didn't sleep as late or as well as I wish I had, but even the little bit extra was lovely--and I took my time getting out of the house, a slow, leisurely wind-up to the day. I drove into the lot behind the building--once again just as someone was leaving a legal parking spot (hosanna). I read and commented on the three stories for the Fiction class and finished rereading Hillerman's The Dark Wind for the Mystery class. In class, the workshop process went well, and we were finished extremely early, so I was able to get a good whack at the marking of 102 assignments before the adjunct conference.
My only concern remaining is that Calyx, my lovely Rose in Bloom, was not in class today--and hers was one of the stories we were going to workshop. I think I saw her mother parked near the building, waiting for her to get out of class, too, so I know she must have been on campus. (She told me last class that her mother works just around the corner, and that her mom drives her to and from campus every day.) I sent Calyx an e-mail telling her that the stories I photocopied for next week's workshops are on my office door, ready for her to pick up, and letting her know how we'll reschedule workshopping her story. I'm inclined to worry a bit, but I'm trying to let go of that: there could be any number of reasons for her absence, and since in the past she's been good about checking and responding to e-mails, I'm going to assume I'll hear from her before Monday.
Meanwhile, although I probably could get a little more work done tonight, I'm going to allow myself an end to the day that matches the start of it and head home. I may even take myself out for dinner, as a treat for having gotten through the conference with some modicum of grace. I'm not even going to look at my triage list. I'm going to make sure the stacks of papers on my desk (and on the radiator) make some kind of sense, pack my little bags, and toddle off. It will all still be there tomorrow.
I will say, he was gracious and polite about the whole thing--but I could feel him holding himself on a very tight rein. My guess is that, buried under the ultra-formal and soft-spoken demeanor, he is a profoundly angry man. But I do feel compassion for him (my goal in every part of my life). It can't be easy to feel under scrutiny, and to have not only one's methods but also, by inference, one's underlying professional philosophy called into question and considered inadequate. He does have another job, and I hope he can find great satisfaction and validation in that venue. I don't think he's going to find it here.
So, now I have to write the damned thing up--and he's being a stickler about the time frame: technically I have 10 days, but he wants it on Monday, one week from when I observed the class, and I'm more than happy to comply, simply to have the whole distasteful process behind me. I'll be happy to cross all the observation write-ups off my to-do list, in point of fact, though his is the only one that will be a challenge to my skills at diplomatic honesty.
(It occurs to me that maybe I need to also develop a "ta-dah!" list, celebrating the moments when I pull yet another I-got-it-done rabbit out of the too-much-on-my-plate hat.)
As I envision tomorrow's work load, I've been waffling about whether to finish marking at least the 102 assignments before leaping into the observation write-ups or not, and I think I'll split the difference. I'll write up this difficult observation report first. Then I'll do some grading. If I still have time before class (and around students coming to my office hour), I'll do more observations. Back and forth.
I have to say, today was mostly a lovely day, despite my slight anxiety about the looming conversation with the adjunct. This morning, when the alarm went off, I decided to turn the damned thing off and go back to sleep: to hell with Advisement. I didn't sleep as late or as well as I wish I had, but even the little bit extra was lovely--and I took my time getting out of the house, a slow, leisurely wind-up to the day. I drove into the lot behind the building--once again just as someone was leaving a legal parking spot (hosanna). I read and commented on the three stories for the Fiction class and finished rereading Hillerman's The Dark Wind for the Mystery class. In class, the workshop process went well, and we were finished extremely early, so I was able to get a good whack at the marking of 102 assignments before the adjunct conference.
My only concern remaining is that Calyx, my lovely Rose in Bloom, was not in class today--and hers was one of the stories we were going to workshop. I think I saw her mother parked near the building, waiting for her to get out of class, too, so I know she must have been on campus. (She told me last class that her mother works just around the corner, and that her mom drives her to and from campus every day.) I sent Calyx an e-mail telling her that the stories I photocopied for next week's workshops are on my office door, ready for her to pick up, and letting her know how we'll reschedule workshopping her story. I'm inclined to worry a bit, but I'm trying to let go of that: there could be any number of reasons for her absence, and since in the past she's been good about checking and responding to e-mails, I'm going to assume I'll hear from her before Monday.
Meanwhile, although I probably could get a little more work done tonight, I'm going to allow myself an end to the day that matches the start of it and head home. I may even take myself out for dinner, as a treat for having gotten through the conference with some modicum of grace. I'm not even going to look at my triage list. I'm going to make sure the stacks of papers on my desk (and on the radiator) make some kind of sense, pack my little bags, and toddle off. It will all still be there tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
The doctor is in.
The day began with a good omen: just as I was pulling into the parking lot behind the building, someone was leaving a legal parking spot, so for a change I parked without risking a ticket. The next good thing: although I did bail on the department meeting, I got everything marked to return to both of today's classes--so for a full hour and 45 minutes, I was caught up on two of my three classes. True, I have three stories to read for the beginning of the workshop process tomorrow, but I'm sure I can do that after my time in Advisement. And of course, I collected more work from both classes today--but ye gods, it felt good to return those enormous stacks of assignments that had been building up for eons (or at least days).
There was a full house for 102: everyone who is left in the class was there. We went over the final paper--and did some review of general knowledge about writing academic papers. No one had any burning questions on the final paper, so I'm assuming they're ready to dive in. They're a little uncertain about the critical essay bit, but I'm hoping all that will be clarified (at least mostly) in the library session on Thursday. Nice news for them--and for me--is that they don't have any work due for me the day we're in the library. They'll finish the novel for next Tuesday--and they'll be the first of my students ever to read the entire novel before embarking on the paper. I know that a lot of what I said today, both about the paper and about the novel, has slipped through their grasp, but they're hanging on--some by a thread, but they're still with me. Hooray.
The Mystery class was especially wild today. Sometimes I'm as bad as the students are in flinging out tangents and random silliness--but I do manage (most of the time) to bring the discussion back to the work at hand. I collected their second papers today. I'd love to think I might see some improvement from the first papers, but I doubt it. (Wake up, Pollyanna: you fell out of the tree and you're never going to walk again.) Still, they can revise--and a few of them will. Much to my delight, at least three of the students in that class are signing up for Nature in Lit. I've warned them that it tends not to run, so I'm encouraging them to drag passing strangers in to register. I haven't publicized it yet to my other two classes (I keep forgetting); I need to do that--and to ask the colleague I subbed for a while back if she'd mind handing out my flier to her students (who liked me a lot). Anything to get the puppy to run.
On a much sadder note, I made two of my students cry after class. Both are young women I like very much--and both are in serious danger because of missing or substandard work. One is my depressed student, whom I'm going to call Judy Blue-Eyes. The other is a student I may or may not have mentioned: she's just gotten a big promotion at work and it's eating up all her time. She's truly lovely--but I look at her info card and I see zero, zero, zero, zero.... I told them both that I'll do whatever I can to help them--but ultimately, they need to do the work, because that's all I can grade them on.
The Worker Bee left, still shaky, and told me she'd think over what she can realistically do to remain in the class. I then ended up talking to Judy Blue-Eyes for almost an hour: essentially, I was conducting an unlicensed therapy session. It took a lot of work just to get her to come up with a realistic goal for herself, instead of going around and around on the wheel of how hard it all is. Ultimately, she decided that she wants to finish the semester and get the best grades she can--knowing that the "best" this semester may be pretty lousy. Just finishing will be a triumph; I told her to make that her anchor, and to write it down, so she owns it. Her anchor is, "I will finish the semester; I won't withdraw, and I will do as much work as I can, knowing that my best this semester is not the best best I am capable of--but it's what I can do right now." I said that whenever she feels her thoughts get caught up in that wheel of misery, she needs to turn to her anchor: "At least I have this. At least there is this one thing I can do, this one thing where I have a plan I can execute, this one thing I can focus on that is not part of that wheel."
I truly hope it helps. Worker Bee also suffers from terrible anxiety (Jesus, what is it about our world and these poor young people?). My heart aches for these young women--but I also have to gently help them understand that this is adult life. We have to do what we can in dreadful situations and get through them in whatever way possible, even if we're not happy about how we get through them, or where we get. It's just now; it's just this moment in a life. There will be more. Things change.
Continuing in the vein of difficult moments, I also talked to P&B about last night's observation. I have a lot of questions to ask the adjunct when he comes to conference with me tomorrow--and based on his answers, I'll determine the ultimate rating--but P&B reminded me that there is a lot more to the observation and evaluation than just the classroom interactions. My concerns about the content of his courses--and yes, about his pedagogy--are sufficient for an "unsatisfactory" rating, unless he allays them in our conference. Somehow I don't think he will. William put it beautifully: this adjunct seems to think that he is the sole defender of some crucial standard that none of the rest of us can uphold--that what he is doing is brilliantly innovative and provides students with precisely the tools they most need. What I saw in class is that he's teaching them how to follow his byzantine procedures--and very little about actually writing essays with any kind of substantial content. Certainly no content was discussed in class: it was all about his rules.
I am not, emphasize not, looking forward to the meeting tomorrow. I may need to recover over a very stiff drink after.
On the other hand, I feel I am on some kind of moral high ground, defending our students and their educational needs against at least one instance of potentially fucking gawd-awful pedagogy. There's a bitter taste to it, but something gratifying, too.
I must say, the P&B work is now piling up. I have to get the last revisions to my sabbatical application done and the whole thing returned to P&B by Monday. In the next two weeks, I need to visit the personnel files for the people I'm mentoring and write the cover letter for the colleague going up for tenure. I'll leave a note in his mailbox tomorrow with some serious warnings (he dislikes electronic communications, despite being of the electronic generation): he's screwed up the dates for his observation twice, so he hasn't yet picked up the ball that he dropped. In addition to those tasks, of course I have four observations to write up. I reckon I'll devote Thursday to that--once again putting on hold the assignment marking for my classes. I won't have to put it off for long (please heaven), but I have to get the P&B work done or the first week of December, I'll be running around like my hair is on fire. I don't want to be racing about in an abject panic by then: by that time, I want the students to be rolling along on their own, with only the occasional nudge from me, so I can take a small breather and gather my resources for the end of semester deluge.
But that's later. That's not tonight. I'll think of that tomorrow, when I'm stronger. Tomorrow is another day. (I think I need to get myself a huge hoop skirt and start talking in a Southern accent....)
There was a full house for 102: everyone who is left in the class was there. We went over the final paper--and did some review of general knowledge about writing academic papers. No one had any burning questions on the final paper, so I'm assuming they're ready to dive in. They're a little uncertain about the critical essay bit, but I'm hoping all that will be clarified (at least mostly) in the library session on Thursday. Nice news for them--and for me--is that they don't have any work due for me the day we're in the library. They'll finish the novel for next Tuesday--and they'll be the first of my students ever to read the entire novel before embarking on the paper. I know that a lot of what I said today, both about the paper and about the novel, has slipped through their grasp, but they're hanging on--some by a thread, but they're still with me. Hooray.
The Mystery class was especially wild today. Sometimes I'm as bad as the students are in flinging out tangents and random silliness--but I do manage (most of the time) to bring the discussion back to the work at hand. I collected their second papers today. I'd love to think I might see some improvement from the first papers, but I doubt it. (Wake up, Pollyanna: you fell out of the tree and you're never going to walk again.) Still, they can revise--and a few of them will. Much to my delight, at least three of the students in that class are signing up for Nature in Lit. I've warned them that it tends not to run, so I'm encouraging them to drag passing strangers in to register. I haven't publicized it yet to my other two classes (I keep forgetting); I need to do that--and to ask the colleague I subbed for a while back if she'd mind handing out my flier to her students (who liked me a lot). Anything to get the puppy to run.
On a much sadder note, I made two of my students cry after class. Both are young women I like very much--and both are in serious danger because of missing or substandard work. One is my depressed student, whom I'm going to call Judy Blue-Eyes. The other is a student I may or may not have mentioned: she's just gotten a big promotion at work and it's eating up all her time. She's truly lovely--but I look at her info card and I see zero, zero, zero, zero.... I told them both that I'll do whatever I can to help them--but ultimately, they need to do the work, because that's all I can grade them on.
The Worker Bee left, still shaky, and told me she'd think over what she can realistically do to remain in the class. I then ended up talking to Judy Blue-Eyes for almost an hour: essentially, I was conducting an unlicensed therapy session. It took a lot of work just to get her to come up with a realistic goal for herself, instead of going around and around on the wheel of how hard it all is. Ultimately, she decided that she wants to finish the semester and get the best grades she can--knowing that the "best" this semester may be pretty lousy. Just finishing will be a triumph; I told her to make that her anchor, and to write it down, so she owns it. Her anchor is, "I will finish the semester; I won't withdraw, and I will do as much work as I can, knowing that my best this semester is not the best best I am capable of--but it's what I can do right now." I said that whenever she feels her thoughts get caught up in that wheel of misery, she needs to turn to her anchor: "At least I have this. At least there is this one thing I can do, this one thing where I have a plan I can execute, this one thing I can focus on that is not part of that wheel."
I truly hope it helps. Worker Bee also suffers from terrible anxiety (Jesus, what is it about our world and these poor young people?). My heart aches for these young women--but I also have to gently help them understand that this is adult life. We have to do what we can in dreadful situations and get through them in whatever way possible, even if we're not happy about how we get through them, or where we get. It's just now; it's just this moment in a life. There will be more. Things change.
Continuing in the vein of difficult moments, I also talked to P&B about last night's observation. I have a lot of questions to ask the adjunct when he comes to conference with me tomorrow--and based on his answers, I'll determine the ultimate rating--but P&B reminded me that there is a lot more to the observation and evaluation than just the classroom interactions. My concerns about the content of his courses--and yes, about his pedagogy--are sufficient for an "unsatisfactory" rating, unless he allays them in our conference. Somehow I don't think he will. William put it beautifully: this adjunct seems to think that he is the sole defender of some crucial standard that none of the rest of us can uphold--that what he is doing is brilliantly innovative and provides students with precisely the tools they most need. What I saw in class is that he's teaching them how to follow his byzantine procedures--and very little about actually writing essays with any kind of substantial content. Certainly no content was discussed in class: it was all about his rules.
I am not, emphasize not, looking forward to the meeting tomorrow. I may need to recover over a very stiff drink after.
On the other hand, I feel I am on some kind of moral high ground, defending our students and their educational needs against at least one instance of potentially fucking gawd-awful pedagogy. There's a bitter taste to it, but something gratifying, too.
I must say, the P&B work is now piling up. I have to get the last revisions to my sabbatical application done and the whole thing returned to P&B by Monday. In the next two weeks, I need to visit the personnel files for the people I'm mentoring and write the cover letter for the colleague going up for tenure. I'll leave a note in his mailbox tomorrow with some serious warnings (he dislikes electronic communications, despite being of the electronic generation): he's screwed up the dates for his observation twice, so he hasn't yet picked up the ball that he dropped. In addition to those tasks, of course I have four observations to write up. I reckon I'll devote Thursday to that--once again putting on hold the assignment marking for my classes. I won't have to put it off for long (please heaven), but I have to get the P&B work done or the first week of December, I'll be running around like my hair is on fire. I don't want to be racing about in an abject panic by then: by that time, I want the students to be rolling along on their own, with only the occasional nudge from me, so I can take a small breather and gather my resources for the end of semester deluge.
But that's later. That's not tonight. I'll think of that tomorrow, when I'm stronger. Tomorrow is another day. (I think I need to get myself a huge hoop skirt and start talking in a Southern accent....)
Monday, November 18, 2013
Is it me?
I don't understand what's going on. I just observed an adjunct who has been a serious problem in the past and about whom we get numerous complaints. William observed him earlier in the semester and rated the fellow's teaching "unsatisfactory." I know Bruce wants to get rid of the guy--mostly because of the chronic students complaints, but maybe for other reasons as well--but in all honesty, I can't say that I found the class completely unsatisfactory. I have problems with the guy's pedagogy, and some serious concerns about whether he's doing what we need him to do in order to prepare students for 102, but in the classroom itself, I didn't see a problem with his behavior with the students, and that's been the primary beef. In fact, a couple of the students joked around with him a little, there was some laughter--and, completely counter to the primary complaint, he was willing to answer questions and to admit when he'd made an error in marking their work.
So, what's up? This is the second time I've observed this guy, and both times I ended up feeling the same way: problems, but not a disaster. I'd say "needs improvement," which is what I said last time. Both times, however, I went in to observe after he'd already gotten into trouble. Is he cleaning up his act for me (or for whoever observes him after he gets called on the carpet, as it were)? Is he not as bad as others think? Or am I being too nice, too forgiving?
I generally "conference" with the observed person immediately after the class, mostly so as not to prolong the process. (I even did that with the one class I observed that I did rate unsatisfactory: confronted my colleague then and there with the problems.) But this time I asked for a little time to reflect first: I'll meet with this professor on Wednesday to conference--and meanwhile, I'll talk it all over with P&B. I honestly am baffled.
And I wanted to skip P&B tomorrow, and skip the department meeting--and now it seems I should at least make a cameo appearance at both. Dammit. I need time to mark student assignments. I suppose I can bail on the department meeting at least--or maybe another miracle will occur and I'll be able to get a lot more marked before the meeting than I anticipate, so I'll be ready for classes.
However, that won't happen if I don't get myself home and settled damned soon. Class was fine, nothing in particular to report--so I won't try to come up with more to say. Maybe more tomorrow. For now, I'm outa here.
So, what's up? This is the second time I've observed this guy, and both times I ended up feeling the same way: problems, but not a disaster. I'd say "needs improvement," which is what I said last time. Both times, however, I went in to observe after he'd already gotten into trouble. Is he cleaning up his act for me (or for whoever observes him after he gets called on the carpet, as it were)? Is he not as bad as others think? Or am I being too nice, too forgiving?
I generally "conference" with the observed person immediately after the class, mostly so as not to prolong the process. (I even did that with the one class I observed that I did rate unsatisfactory: confronted my colleague then and there with the problems.) But this time I asked for a little time to reflect first: I'll meet with this professor on Wednesday to conference--and meanwhile, I'll talk it all over with P&B. I honestly am baffled.
And I wanted to skip P&B tomorrow, and skip the department meeting--and now it seems I should at least make a cameo appearance at both. Dammit. I need time to mark student assignments. I suppose I can bail on the department meeting at least--or maybe another miracle will occur and I'll be able to get a lot more marked before the meeting than I anticipate, so I'll be ready for classes.
However, that won't happen if I don't get myself home and settled damned soon. Class was fine, nothing in particular to report--so I won't try to come up with more to say. Maybe more tomorrow. For now, I'm outa here.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
2-minute post
Trying to get out the door in about 10 minutes, haven't eaten since this morning, headache from about noon on: I'm feeling pursued by packs of miniature dogs. Trampled to death by geese.
But the day went well. I got most of the stuff marked for Mystery; didn't get everything done for 102 (no surprise)--I'd forgotten that I had an observation this afternoon instead of my office hour, so lost a chunk of time to that. Still, the class I observed was utterly delightful--this is a colleague I like very much personally, and in addition, I admire her pedagogy (and would like to use some of it as a model for my own). The 102 class was fine--apart from the moment when I snapped at a student who was being willfully dense about getting in a circle. The Mystery class reached new heights of absurdity. They weren't just up in the rafters; they were above the rooftops somewhere. But it was fun--and they deserved the fun after having received a mini-lecture about what a thesis is, how to construct a paper....
And now I need to get some food in me, figure out what I'm taking home, and brave the traffic out to Stony Brook for my dance lesson. I am so desperate for Thanksgiving weekend, I'm about to fall over--and that weekend, I want to do absolutely, utterly, completely nothing. Please heaven I'll get closer to caught up next week.....
I'm off. I'm also leaving.
But the day went well. I got most of the stuff marked for Mystery; didn't get everything done for 102 (no surprise)--I'd forgotten that I had an observation this afternoon instead of my office hour, so lost a chunk of time to that. Still, the class I observed was utterly delightful--this is a colleague I like very much personally, and in addition, I admire her pedagogy (and would like to use some of it as a model for my own). The 102 class was fine--apart from the moment when I snapped at a student who was being willfully dense about getting in a circle. The Mystery class reached new heights of absurdity. They weren't just up in the rafters; they were above the rooftops somewhere. But it was fun--and they deserved the fun after having received a mini-lecture about what a thesis is, how to construct a paper....
And now I need to get some food in me, figure out what I'm taking home, and brave the traffic out to Stony Brook for my dance lesson. I am so desperate for Thanksgiving weekend, I'm about to fall over--and that weekend, I want to do absolutely, utterly, completely nothing. Please heaven I'll get closer to caught up next week.....
I'm off. I'm also leaving.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
A bit of noodling to end the day
I was going to try to get out of here a while ago but I ended up doing a little noodling: replying to e-mails and other messages--and beginning the planning of a presentation in the "Traveling Professor" series here at NCC. In February, I'll do a little slide show and talk about my trips to Portugal (mostly Lisbon, but a little beyond), probably including a little fado music as well as the photos. It's a lot of fun to contemplate--and I'll have a hell of a task in front of me, scanning the photos from my first trip (pre digital camera) and then culling the best of the photos from the zillions I have. Of course, even thinking about this makes me want to go back--tomorrow, if possible.
The traffic stream in Advisement is now constant. Down side: I can't get any of my own work done. Up side: time flies. No one annoyed me unduly today, but I felt like a dithering idiot: it was one of those days when I couldn't seem to locate the information I wanted in any efficient or intelligent way. Ah well. I helped the students I saw; that's the main thing.
I wasn't at all sure I'd keep the Fiction Writing students for more than about five minutes: I was pretty cranky heading to class, in part because several students hadn't gotten me the full submission of their second story revisions, despite repeated requests. My huff was deflated, however, when two of the three had exactly what I needed to get. The third? I handed his partial submission back to him and told him that I've recorded a zero. If he wants to change that, he needs to resubmit the story with all the required pieces.
I talked a bit about upcoming assignments and a slight schedule change (so we can get a jump on the workshopping, get everyone's story discussed prior to Thanksgiving) and a request (so we have some stories in advance of the final workshop session, on their "portfolio" stories). Some of the students still haven't checked their e-mail and so still didn't have the specific assignment for the next story--and were unclear, even though I went over it in class before. There is a lot of overlap between the exercise they did as homework and this upcoming story assignment, so I understand some of the confusion, but some of it simply is because they're not paying attention.
After I got that all sorted out (which took a while), I asked them what would be helpful. Tyra wanted to just leave (no surprise there), but one of the students wanted to talk about the exercise they'd done, and the Real Writer wanted to do another free write--so we did. Two students hadn't done the exercise (including Calyx), so I'll collect theirs on Monday. And I had a little talk with Edison Adams after class: his work has suddenly been slipping, and I wanted to be sure he's OK. Yes, he said, and then, after talking in general terms about an ongoing situation in his life, he finally said that he didn't want to use it as an excuse, but he suffers from depression....
...
I said to him what I said to the student in the Mystery class: that I understand very well, that I want to help, that I want him to do well, that he should let me know if the problem continues, that it isn't an "excuse," it's a real problem. But the whole time I was wondering not only what it is that has brought these students to me in this way but also, what is going on in our culture that so many young people are suffering from depression? I find that terrible, deeply distressing. I know I'm not looking at a statistically significant sampling here, but it certainly feels like I'm looking at an upsurge in a serious problem.
I am still concerned about the student in the Mystery class. I just marked some of her assignments, and they're pretty awful--so I can't give them good grades, much as I'd like to. In fact, I have the same problem with the "revisions" I got. I didn't get many, and most of the ones I got may have been changed, but the problems remain unaddressed. As I said to Paul, this confirms my belief that students truly cannot see what to revise or understand how without intensive work and training. In the past, I'd have been handing out D's and F's right and left--but I'm more forgiving now (or more exhausted, I'm not sure which). I'm more willing to give a C for a paper with no thesis, no argument, but clear writing--in part because I don't have the time to teach these students what a thesis is, what an argument is, and if they don't know, and I can't teach them, it seems grossly unfair to slam them for what they have never been adequately taught.
This is a radical shift in my core beliefs in terms of my pedagogy. I have always taken on the "gate keeper" role, much as I hate being the enforcer: I've felt that students need to know, and know now, if their work is insufficient. I still feel that way--but instead of just slamming that gate on them, I'd rather either let them through (knowing they may get slammed even harder later) or give them the keys. Ideally, I want to give them the keys--but that learning curve, understanding what analysis is, understanding academic argument, is a mighty steep one, and even in the classes in which it's my specific task to help them understand those things, it's almost impossible to impart the understanding in one semester. And in literature electives, I have a different agenda: I'm supposed to focus on the literature itself, not their writing skills.
I may well flop back the other way next semester, but what I really hope is that I can find a way to structure assignments for the literature electives so that the students can learn those basic writing skills, if they haven't before--and practice them if they have learned them. Paul does drafts in his lit classes: I may do paper review days, even in the electives.
I profoundly hope that sometime in the final weeks of the semester, when I'm marking less, I can spend some concentrated time working on revamping the syllabus and paper assignments for Nature in Lit. I want to keep the readings the same--but I want to radically restructure the writing so it's not so utterly daunting for the students. And I want to keep working on clarifying what the logs need to contain: that's still a struggle, for me and for the students.
One curse--and blessing--of this career is that it includes perpetual change. Even if the changes are slight, they're there. For example, I've used the same paper topics for 102 for years now--but the approach to the writing is different, and the way I word the assignments is refined almost every semester, in one way or another. Eventually, I'll get bored with the readings and topics, too, and I'll do a major overhaul of that, too. I may be frustrated, angry, discouraged, ground down by work load--but I am not bored. I am never bored.
I am, however, hungry. And tired. So I'm going home. Yet another unread, unrevised, un-proofed post. These are becoming more common than the more carefully worked posts of days long past. Ah well. I get the opportunity to think a little, and reframe, and that's all I really care about. I hope my faithful readers (both of you) are content with the roughage (as it were). Thank you for reading.
The traffic stream in Advisement is now constant. Down side: I can't get any of my own work done. Up side: time flies. No one annoyed me unduly today, but I felt like a dithering idiot: it was one of those days when I couldn't seem to locate the information I wanted in any efficient or intelligent way. Ah well. I helped the students I saw; that's the main thing.
I wasn't at all sure I'd keep the Fiction Writing students for more than about five minutes: I was pretty cranky heading to class, in part because several students hadn't gotten me the full submission of their second story revisions, despite repeated requests. My huff was deflated, however, when two of the three had exactly what I needed to get. The third? I handed his partial submission back to him and told him that I've recorded a zero. If he wants to change that, he needs to resubmit the story with all the required pieces.
I talked a bit about upcoming assignments and a slight schedule change (so we can get a jump on the workshopping, get everyone's story discussed prior to Thanksgiving) and a request (so we have some stories in advance of the final workshop session, on their "portfolio" stories). Some of the students still haven't checked their e-mail and so still didn't have the specific assignment for the next story--and were unclear, even though I went over it in class before. There is a lot of overlap between the exercise they did as homework and this upcoming story assignment, so I understand some of the confusion, but some of it simply is because they're not paying attention.
After I got that all sorted out (which took a while), I asked them what would be helpful. Tyra wanted to just leave (no surprise there), but one of the students wanted to talk about the exercise they'd done, and the Real Writer wanted to do another free write--so we did. Two students hadn't done the exercise (including Calyx), so I'll collect theirs on Monday. And I had a little talk with Edison Adams after class: his work has suddenly been slipping, and I wanted to be sure he's OK. Yes, he said, and then, after talking in general terms about an ongoing situation in his life, he finally said that he didn't want to use it as an excuse, but he suffers from depression....
...
I said to him what I said to the student in the Mystery class: that I understand very well, that I want to help, that I want him to do well, that he should let me know if the problem continues, that it isn't an "excuse," it's a real problem. But the whole time I was wondering not only what it is that has brought these students to me in this way but also, what is going on in our culture that so many young people are suffering from depression? I find that terrible, deeply distressing. I know I'm not looking at a statistically significant sampling here, but it certainly feels like I'm looking at an upsurge in a serious problem.
I am still concerned about the student in the Mystery class. I just marked some of her assignments, and they're pretty awful--so I can't give them good grades, much as I'd like to. In fact, I have the same problem with the "revisions" I got. I didn't get many, and most of the ones I got may have been changed, but the problems remain unaddressed. As I said to Paul, this confirms my belief that students truly cannot see what to revise or understand how without intensive work and training. In the past, I'd have been handing out D's and F's right and left--but I'm more forgiving now (or more exhausted, I'm not sure which). I'm more willing to give a C for a paper with no thesis, no argument, but clear writing--in part because I don't have the time to teach these students what a thesis is, what an argument is, and if they don't know, and I can't teach them, it seems grossly unfair to slam them for what they have never been adequately taught.
This is a radical shift in my core beliefs in terms of my pedagogy. I have always taken on the "gate keeper" role, much as I hate being the enforcer: I've felt that students need to know, and know now, if their work is insufficient. I still feel that way--but instead of just slamming that gate on them, I'd rather either let them through (knowing they may get slammed even harder later) or give them the keys. Ideally, I want to give them the keys--but that learning curve, understanding what analysis is, understanding academic argument, is a mighty steep one, and even in the classes in which it's my specific task to help them understand those things, it's almost impossible to impart the understanding in one semester. And in literature electives, I have a different agenda: I'm supposed to focus on the literature itself, not their writing skills.
I may well flop back the other way next semester, but what I really hope is that I can find a way to structure assignments for the literature electives so that the students can learn those basic writing skills, if they haven't before--and practice them if they have learned them. Paul does drafts in his lit classes: I may do paper review days, even in the electives.
I profoundly hope that sometime in the final weeks of the semester, when I'm marking less, I can spend some concentrated time working on revamping the syllabus and paper assignments for Nature in Lit. I want to keep the readings the same--but I want to radically restructure the writing so it's not so utterly daunting for the students. And I want to keep working on clarifying what the logs need to contain: that's still a struggle, for me and for the students.
One curse--and blessing--of this career is that it includes perpetual change. Even if the changes are slight, they're there. For example, I've used the same paper topics for 102 for years now--but the approach to the writing is different, and the way I word the assignments is refined almost every semester, in one way or another. Eventually, I'll get bored with the readings and topics, too, and I'll do a major overhaul of that, too. I may be frustrated, angry, discouraged, ground down by work load--but I am not bored. I am never bored.
I am, however, hungry. And tired. So I'm going home. Yet another unread, unrevised, un-proofed post. These are becoming more common than the more carefully worked posts of days long past. Ah well. I get the opportunity to think a little, and reframe, and that's all I really care about. I hope my faithful readers (both of you) are content with the roughage (as it were). Thank you for reading.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
my own damned fault
As my friend Eloise would say, I'm up to my antlers in ungraded student assignments--and of course, I didn't do a damned one of them over the weekend. I carried them all home, like a good little girl, and then carried them right back again: I didn't even move the bag they were in, just plopped it on the table when I got home on Thursday and picked it up again this morning.
Consequently, I'm going to have to burn, well, not the midnight oil (things aren't that dire yet), but the "later than I'd like" oil. I already put in a decent push tonight--just getting caught up with the short story class. I must say, I'm more than a bit ticked off that three of them are still, after repeated admonishments, missing necessary pieces of their second story submissions, so I can't grade them. I never put anything in the syllabus about late penalties (note to self if I ever teach the class again)--but this is getting ridiculous. I'm about ready to give them each a zero and leave it at that. OK, no, not really, though it is tempting. I will, however, read them the riot act tomorrow. In front of everyone. I'm all for a little shaming right about now. One of the offenders is Edison Adams, much to my dismay. He's suddenly falling apart, and I'm not sure what's going on. I need to talk to him.
I also just spent a few minutes here putting everything for the Mystery class in order--triage within triage. I've been shunting their stuff aside for the 102 class for way too long. This week, if I end up not getting work back to the 102 students, it will simply be their turn to get the fuzzy end of the lollipop. I had to postpone the due date for the second paper for the Mystery class: I figure it's only fair to give them their revisions back before they have to embark on a new paper, so they can see if they did improve, are on a better track. (And I just realized: one student who asked for more time didn't give me her revision today. I think she's missed the boat now.)
I had a conversation with a student after class, another young woman who is struggling. Her issue isn't depression, just over-work. We talked about it, and I told her she's simply in a position of having to make a very difficult decision, knowing the consequences of her choices. I did tell her that I'm willing to talk with her more about it, if it would help her to bounce the ideas off someone--but essentially, she has a very demanding job right now, and it's preventing her from paying sufficient attention to her studies. The options are, withdraw from the classes so she doesn't demolish her GPA, knowing she's "wasted" her tuition money and is going to be set back pretty far in terms of her progress toward graduation, or stay in the classes and know her GPA is going to take a hell of a hit because of the job conflict. I'm touched that so many of my students feel they can talk to me about these problems. I don't actually offer much help, but I think it matters to them that I will listen with empathy and respond with compassion.
One annoying thing to report: I was in the middle of the 102 class when one of the students showed up--about 30 minutes into the period--and from the door, waved to me to come outside and talk to him. I said, "No, I'm not going to interrupt class to talk to you. You can talk to me after class, or you can come see me or send me an e-mail." He said he couldn't wait until after class, and I said, "OK, then, contact me some other way." We'll see if he does. I'm not very sanguine about his chances in the class, which is too bad, as he showed some promise at the beginning.
I counted today: there are, right at this moment, 14 students remaining in that class. I'm hoping like hell they all stick to the end, but I'm afraid I anticipate losing a few--not because I have any real indications that anyone is blowing up but just because that's what usually happens. I feel nervous about throwing them into the final paper, as this semester they didn't get the test drive of using critical sources that I usually provide with the second paper (because I fucked up and didn't get them the apparatus to read the provided essays and get anything out of them). So they'll be dealing with critical material for the first time--and it ain't easy. But they get to revise and revise, so I'm hoping that will help them figure out how to use the stuff at least well enough for this level.
My eyes are burning; I can barely see, never mind think. I'm tossing this post up on the blog and getting the hell out of here. Back in 13 hours. Oy.
Consequently, I'm going to have to burn, well, not the midnight oil (things aren't that dire yet), but the "later than I'd like" oil. I already put in a decent push tonight--just getting caught up with the short story class. I must say, I'm more than a bit ticked off that three of them are still, after repeated admonishments, missing necessary pieces of their second story submissions, so I can't grade them. I never put anything in the syllabus about late penalties (note to self if I ever teach the class again)--but this is getting ridiculous. I'm about ready to give them each a zero and leave it at that. OK, no, not really, though it is tempting. I will, however, read them the riot act tomorrow. In front of everyone. I'm all for a little shaming right about now. One of the offenders is Edison Adams, much to my dismay. He's suddenly falling apart, and I'm not sure what's going on. I need to talk to him.
I also just spent a few minutes here putting everything for the Mystery class in order--triage within triage. I've been shunting their stuff aside for the 102 class for way too long. This week, if I end up not getting work back to the 102 students, it will simply be their turn to get the fuzzy end of the lollipop. I had to postpone the due date for the second paper for the Mystery class: I figure it's only fair to give them their revisions back before they have to embark on a new paper, so they can see if they did improve, are on a better track. (And I just realized: one student who asked for more time didn't give me her revision today. I think she's missed the boat now.)
I had a conversation with a student after class, another young woman who is struggling. Her issue isn't depression, just over-work. We talked about it, and I told her she's simply in a position of having to make a very difficult decision, knowing the consequences of her choices. I did tell her that I'm willing to talk with her more about it, if it would help her to bounce the ideas off someone--but essentially, she has a very demanding job right now, and it's preventing her from paying sufficient attention to her studies. The options are, withdraw from the classes so she doesn't demolish her GPA, knowing she's "wasted" her tuition money and is going to be set back pretty far in terms of her progress toward graduation, or stay in the classes and know her GPA is going to take a hell of a hit because of the job conflict. I'm touched that so many of my students feel they can talk to me about these problems. I don't actually offer much help, but I think it matters to them that I will listen with empathy and respond with compassion.
One annoying thing to report: I was in the middle of the 102 class when one of the students showed up--about 30 minutes into the period--and from the door, waved to me to come outside and talk to him. I said, "No, I'm not going to interrupt class to talk to you. You can talk to me after class, or you can come see me or send me an e-mail." He said he couldn't wait until after class, and I said, "OK, then, contact me some other way." We'll see if he does. I'm not very sanguine about his chances in the class, which is too bad, as he showed some promise at the beginning.
I counted today: there are, right at this moment, 14 students remaining in that class. I'm hoping like hell they all stick to the end, but I'm afraid I anticipate losing a few--not because I have any real indications that anyone is blowing up but just because that's what usually happens. I feel nervous about throwing them into the final paper, as this semester they didn't get the test drive of using critical sources that I usually provide with the second paper (because I fucked up and didn't get them the apparatus to read the provided essays and get anything out of them). So they'll be dealing with critical material for the first time--and it ain't easy. But they get to revise and revise, so I'm hoping that will help them figure out how to use the stuff at least well enough for this level.
My eyes are burning; I can barely see, never mind think. I'm tossing this post up on the blog and getting the hell out of here. Back in 13 hours. Oy.
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