Here we go. The time between Thanksgiving and whatever we call the break coming up (Christmas, Winter Break) is one that tests our dedication.
Yes, we care about our students’ progress, probably more than we did in August or September. But we’re tired of repeated excuses, we have presents to buy and fruitcake to bake. The days are shorter, the nights longer. Our students are not the only ones feeling that there’s too little time and not enough patience. When someone’s grandma dies for the fifth time this semester, we want to call him on it, and then go off to the kitchen to eat cookie dough – or take our own children sledding.
We’re going to feel like this again in May, when the sunshine and early summer winds call us as we sit grading papers and trying to figure out how to keep our students involved in the classroom. We’re going to caution them against the senior swan dive, against giving up or slacking off just weeks from the end.
We’re going to give some of them the break of their lives, or remind ourselves that for some of them, the best thing we can do is stay true to our principles on late papers and lack of attendance.
And we will survive to teach again – in two weeks, in two months. We’re in one of the fortunate professions, where next year, next semester we have the opportunity to begin fresh. Fresh books, fresh attitudes, fresh students. All we need to do is stay true to our field of study, our beliefs, our students. Ourselves.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Teaching Thoughts
Punctuation keeps us monogamously in love and in our boyfriend’s [instead of boyfriends’] heart.
In an effort to make them produce, you’ve put the two most non-responsive students in a group by themselves. They report back, in whispers, telling you they have nothing to say.
Direction to the class: I want you to put yourselves in groups. Form a group with people you have something in common with.
[Results to date: tattoos, love of a musical group, work places, future professions]
So far, luckily, no group has formed, “because we were sitting next to each other.”
In an effort to make them produce, you’ve put the two most non-responsive students in a group by themselves. They report back, in whispers, telling you they have nothing to say.
Direction to the class: I want you to put yourselves in groups. Form a group with people you have something in common with.
[Results to date: tattoos, love of a musical group, work places, future professions]
So far, luckily, no group has formed, “because we were sitting next to each other.”
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Onion Talk
“An onion is just an onion. You could put any vegetable in there.”
We are discussing “Monologue for an Onion,” a poem that I think is wonderful – and the one Maritza rushes to suggest when we’ve run short of time and need to choose only a few from the homework readings. “Oh, I just love this one.”
Woo hoo, I think to myself: someone else was drawn into the evocation of sounds (onion/union) and thoughts (Can we ever get to someone’s core? Is there a core? Do people have a central core or simply another layer of mystery? By probing too quickly into a relationship and demanding intimacy, do we destroy it? Can we know the depths of a person we love?).
“Think of the onion,” I begin, as soon as I have finished reading aloud and we are ready to talk about the poem; but I’m shouted down in the exuberant display of opinion.
“It could be any vegetable,” Josh repeats. “What do you want to be?”
I look from one class member to another, wondering how they would type themselves. Who’s a kiwi fruit? Who’s a banana? Are we talking about personality, or relationships, or performance in English class? Can we relate this back to Ginsberg’s tomatoes and avocados in “Supermarket in California” or Millay’s apples in the sonnets from Fatal Interview? Love is love, whether I’m using a rose or cowslips carried in my skirt or an onion to describe it. What kind of love?
“What about the symbolism?” I ask. “In ‘A Rose for Emily’ we had a rose; think about how the symbolism of an onion is different.” We return to the rings of meaning in the poem.
“An onion is an onion,” Josh repeats his major point.
“Poetry is not always easy to understand,” Whitney temporizes.
“There’s symbolism we do not have in another object. What about the apple?” I offer. “Think about how apples have parts – skin, the apple flesh, that central core – and if you turn an apple and cut it sideways…”
“You get a star!” Arreall and Kadie in unison are busily comparing notes on the beautiful five-pointed star in a hacked-apart apple.
Sarah leans into the discussion with rationality, looking at onions and life and love. Maritza interrupts Sarah and outshouts Josh. “You underestimate onions!”
There’s one of our thoughts in today’s discussion: never underestimate onions. Or classes when their thoughts catch fire and the stories and poems become part of their life experiences, much larger than one poem in the textbook.
We are discussing “Monologue for an Onion,” a poem that I think is wonderful – and the one Maritza rushes to suggest when we’ve run short of time and need to choose only a few from the homework readings. “Oh, I just love this one.”
Woo hoo, I think to myself: someone else was drawn into the evocation of sounds (onion/union) and thoughts (Can we ever get to someone’s core? Is there a core? Do people have a central core or simply another layer of mystery? By probing too quickly into a relationship and demanding intimacy, do we destroy it? Can we know the depths of a person we love?).
“Think of the onion,” I begin, as soon as I have finished reading aloud and we are ready to talk about the poem; but I’m shouted down in the exuberant display of opinion.
“It could be any vegetable,” Josh repeats. “What do you want to be?”
I look from one class member to another, wondering how they would type themselves. Who’s a kiwi fruit? Who’s a banana? Are we talking about personality, or relationships, or performance in English class? Can we relate this back to Ginsberg’s tomatoes and avocados in “Supermarket in California” or Millay’s apples in the sonnets from Fatal Interview? Love is love, whether I’m using a rose or cowslips carried in my skirt or an onion to describe it. What kind of love?
“What about the symbolism?” I ask. “In ‘A Rose for Emily’ we had a rose; think about how the symbolism of an onion is different.” We return to the rings of meaning in the poem.
“An onion is an onion,” Josh repeats his major point.
“Poetry is not always easy to understand,” Whitney temporizes.
“There’s symbolism we do not have in another object. What about the apple?” I offer. “Think about how apples have parts – skin, the apple flesh, that central core – and if you turn an apple and cut it sideways…”
“You get a star!” Arreall and Kadie in unison are busily comparing notes on the beautiful five-pointed star in a hacked-apart apple.
Sarah leans into the discussion with rationality, looking at onions and life and love. Maritza interrupts Sarah and outshouts Josh. “You underestimate onions!”
There’s one of our thoughts in today’s discussion: never underestimate onions. Or classes when their thoughts catch fire and the stories and poems become part of their life experiences, much larger than one poem in the textbook.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Not my Fault
“I am very sorry but I have not been in your class. I was one victim of mugging and of attempt of murder. I was hospitalized but and home recovering. I will do anything it takes to catch up. George.”
~
“Dear George. I’m sorry to hear of the attempt on your life. My records show that you have missed 10 of the first 17 class sessions, beginning with the second week of class. You took no quizzes when you did attend and have not turned in any of the writing assignments. I would suggest starting a new section of this course next semester. Instructor.”
“I am Terry Smith’s mother and I want to ask about his grade. It was not his fault that he did not complete his first several assignments because amazon.com backordered his textbook. And he could not read it. Can he do the assignments late? Also, Terry has always done well in this subject with the other teachers. Why are his grades lower in your class. Let me know if there is extra work he can do to get at least a C. If he gets a D or belower he will not be allowed to take sports. Concerned Parent.”
My students are chronologically over 18: adults. Legally, I am in the same position as a health care provider: bound to observe patient confidentiality. Morally, I am in the position of wanting the students to grow. Emotionally, I wish they (and sometimes their parents) would. We’ve been working in this lesson for a long time.
The pre-K teachers listened to frazzled moms explaining, “Susie stuck the dog’s tail in the toaster, and Billy threw socks in the toilet: that’s why we’re late.” Those teachers had come from the chaos of getting children off to school themselves; they nodded understandingly. They reassured mom that things got better. Elementary level teachers listened to Bert tell them why he wasn’t the one who flushed the end of a roll of paper towels down the toilet even as they plucked the last section from his hand, and warned him that middle school teachers expected much more responsibility in actions and fewer excuses. Middle school teachers warned their classes that high school meant excuses wouldn’t work anymore; high school teachers told their classes that bosses and college instructors were not going to accept excuses.
My syllabus states “Work submitted on time will earn full credit,” and “You must meet deadlines. There are no exceptions, so please do not ask for them.” My irresponsible students say, “But I didn’t know that, because I didn’t read the syllabus.” Neither did their parents.
Their parents had no obligation to read the syllabus. We’re at adulthood. Being grown up isn’t always fun. I can spend this week’s grocery money on bakery, but then I need to tell the dog why his dish is empty. The dog’s glad his tail is not glowing, shoved in the mesh of the toaster, but he’d like supper too.
We don’t reach a time in our lives when we are happy about requirements and deadlines. Sometimes we shrug mistakes off with a laugh or a cliché (“my bad”). Sometimes we bring in updated excuses (“The guy in the car next to me was the victim of a drive-by shooting”). If we hate deadlines being imposed on us enough, we start our own company – and impose them on our employees. We sleep in on weekends. We rebel. Or we face up to the deadlines, knowing that whatever we do, there are things due ourselves and others, as well as obligations, responsibilities, consequences.
~
“Dear George. I’m sorry to hear of the attempt on your life. My records show that you have missed 10 of the first 17 class sessions, beginning with the second week of class. You took no quizzes when you did attend and have not turned in any of the writing assignments. I would suggest starting a new section of this course next semester. Instructor.”
“I am Terry Smith’s mother and I want to ask about his grade. It was not his fault that he did not complete his first several assignments because amazon.com backordered his textbook. And he could not read it. Can he do the assignments late? Also, Terry has always done well in this subject with the other teachers. Why are his grades lower in your class. Let me know if there is extra work he can do to get at least a C. If he gets a D or belower he will not be allowed to take sports. Concerned Parent.”
My students are chronologically over 18: adults. Legally, I am in the same position as a health care provider: bound to observe patient confidentiality. Morally, I am in the position of wanting the students to grow. Emotionally, I wish they (and sometimes their parents) would. We’ve been working in this lesson for a long time.
The pre-K teachers listened to frazzled moms explaining, “Susie stuck the dog’s tail in the toaster, and Billy threw socks in the toilet: that’s why we’re late.” Those teachers had come from the chaos of getting children off to school themselves; they nodded understandingly. They reassured mom that things got better. Elementary level teachers listened to Bert tell them why he wasn’t the one who flushed the end of a roll of paper towels down the toilet even as they plucked the last section from his hand, and warned him that middle school teachers expected much more responsibility in actions and fewer excuses. Middle school teachers warned their classes that high school meant excuses wouldn’t work anymore; high school teachers told their classes that bosses and college instructors were not going to accept excuses.
My syllabus states “Work submitted on time will earn full credit,” and “You must meet deadlines. There are no exceptions, so please do not ask for them.” My irresponsible students say, “But I didn’t know that, because I didn’t read the syllabus.” Neither did their parents.
Their parents had no obligation to read the syllabus. We’re at adulthood. Being grown up isn’t always fun. I can spend this week’s grocery money on bakery, but then I need to tell the dog why his dish is empty. The dog’s glad his tail is not glowing, shoved in the mesh of the toaster, but he’d like supper too.
We don’t reach a time in our lives when we are happy about requirements and deadlines. Sometimes we shrug mistakes off with a laugh or a cliché (“my bad”). Sometimes we bring in updated excuses (“The guy in the car next to me was the victim of a drive-by shooting”). If we hate deadlines being imposed on us enough, we start our own company – and impose them on our employees. We sleep in on weekends. We rebel. Or we face up to the deadlines, knowing that whatever we do, there are things due ourselves and others, as well as obligations, responsibilities, consequences.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Late work
Some people operate on the principal that if they are not physically in class the day an assignment should be turned in, the assignment is not due.
We may choose to delete points from the grade, we may choose to assign bonus points to the papers arriving on time, asking ourselves, Isn't that a bit like giving overtime pay to someone working a regular shift?
Consistency is important. Consideration of circumstances is important. Fairness is essential. If we assess a grade penalty for late work we need to subtract those points no matter whose work is late; even our most exceptional students need to understand that brilliancy cannot always make them the exception.
On the other hand, we need to have a flexible enough mentality that actual surgery is a valid excuse and a strong enough sense of fairness to the students who do manage to submit their work on time no matter what, to require official documentation for the students citing medical emergencies as a reason for late submission.
We may choose to delete points from the grade, we may choose to assign bonus points to the papers arriving on time, asking ourselves, Isn't that a bit like giving overtime pay to someone working a regular shift?
Consistency is important. Consideration of circumstances is important. Fairness is essential. If we assess a grade penalty for late work we need to subtract those points no matter whose work is late; even our most exceptional students need to understand that brilliancy cannot always make them the exception.
On the other hand, we need to have a flexible enough mentality that actual surgery is a valid excuse and a strong enough sense of fairness to the students who do manage to submit their work on time no matter what, to require official documentation for the students citing medical emergencies as a reason for late submission.
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