I'm grading again. I do this to myself and I accept that I am responsible for my own pain. In my sick need to try to be fair, I usually offer opportunities for students to earn 8-10 grades each semester. I mix up quizzes, short papers, exams, and participation so each student has the opportunity to succeed. Some actually take advantage of the opportunity, which is gratifying. However, this means that I grade a lot.
As I wade through the latest stack of exams, I'm considering a new strategy. I think I should be able to assign a final grade at the end of the semester. To assist me with this new strategy, I'm going to look high and low for a sorting hat like in Harry Potter. Shouldn't be too hard to find something that only exists in JK Rowling's imagination. Armed with my hat, I'll have a grading ceremony at the end of the semester. Each student will come to the front of the room, take a seat, put on the hat, and after a few moments of deliberate reflection on the student's performance, the hat will announce the student's grade. Sure, this plan violates just about every principle of student confidentiality, but weren't rules made to be broken - especially if magic is involved?
Yes, this is the way things should be. Not the other way where I have to wade through open-ended short answers that conflate numerous ideas and concepts into one big maelstrom of crap.
I'm being a bit unfair. Overall, the exams & other assignments from my summer students aren't bad. I'm just tired.
Showing posts with label students. Show all posts
Showing posts with label students. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
School's Not Out For Summer
Today was the first day of summer semester at Big City University. I'm teaching the same survey course that I taught during the regular semester, except now, I'm teaching it all in 11 class sessions. For those of you who are keeping track, that's all of US History in 11 classes. The classes are two and a half hours long, because the 11 class sessions weren't challenging enough. Ever try to engage a group of undergraduates for two and a half hours? Did I mention that the class starts at 11AM and ends at 1:30PM? Yes, that's lunchtime, ladies and gentlemen. Yeehaw.
To get us started, I'd planned to do an introductory song-and-dance and let them go early. I've performed the song-and-dance before, so it's well-rehearsed and undergrad-approved. I got to the classroom and immediately noticed an unmistakable error message on the in-class computer. Investigating further, I learned that despite the summer temperatures outside, the computer was in "deep freeze." Apparently, "deep freeze" means that the computer doesn't do anything - not even "Reboot in 180 seconds" as the error message promises. I know. I waited. Nothing happened.
While I was staring the frozen computer, I considered just how bad life was going to be for the next hour or so if the computer didn't thaw. "Hmm," I thought, "my entire presentation is on Power Point, and there's no way in hell to do the presentation without Power Point because it involves a significant amount of student response to - oh yeah - the stuff that's on Power Point." My heart and stomach sank. "I can just go over the syllabus and send them home," I thought. Then I realized that in my effort to simultaneously save the department's meager resources a small corner of the environment, I posted my syllabus on the school's document-sharing site. No hard copies. Well, I had one, but I could hardly share it with 22 students. "Crap, crappity, crap, crap, crap. Damn me and my frugality and environmental sensibility," I thought as students continued to file in and take their seats.
I'll be honest, I considered running away. I hadn't said anything to them. They didn't know who I was. I'd just be that crazy woman who came in, messed with the computer, looked stricken, and left. But - my professionalism and desire for food and rent money won out. I called Tech Support. So, the first words my students heard this semester were: "Hello, yes, I'm in my classroom ready to teach and the computer is in deep freeze." I'm hoping it's not a metaphor for the entire semester.
Instead of launching into my rehearsed song-and-dance, I improvised. I'm very proud to say that I did not launch into, "So, who's here from out of town? I just flew in from College Town and boy, are my arms tired!" No, I blabbered on and on and on about things related to the class in no particular order. Here's hoping my students understand garbled jibberish. I figure they speak and text it, so they should understand it [insert rimshot here].
When I ran out of things to say, I asked them to introduce themselves. I asked each of them to say his or her name, where he or she was from, and one thing that interests them about history. We got off to a rousing start when 3 of the first 4 students declared that they "really didn't like history." The entire subject written off as boring and irrelevant. Great.
We continued around the room and the chorus of History Haters grew. Surprisingly, many of the HHs were girls, while many of the non-HHs were boys. I'm not sure what that's about, but I think it's interesting. I wasn't aware that history had become a "boy's subject," like math and science used to be. Anyway, of the non-HHs, one likes world history, one likes military history ("battles, generals, and war"), and one likes ancestoral history - or the history of her own family. Great. Out of a very small percentage of the class that doesn't absolutely hate history, a significant proportion like the history that I don't teach. Fantastic.
Mr. AV finally showed up and disappeared behind the desk. I continued my ad lib. I was almost out of material when he poked his head out, declaring that he had fixed the problem. Happily, he was right. By this time, we were at least 40 minutes into class and 2 students came strolling in. I guess they decided they'd only come in if there was Power Point.
One of the late arrivals is a repeater from a previous semester. He registered late that semester, had really inconsistent attendance, and eventually disappeared - which explains why he's back. It doesn't explain why he decided to come to class 40 minutes late on the first day. I'm sure that he decided to retake the class with me because he's somewhat familiar with my teaching style. The flaw in his plan is that I am also familiar with his past performance. Showing up 40 minutes late doesn't necessarily convince me that he's ready to make a bigger commitment to the class.
So, along with the contingent of HHs, the Repeater, Col. Military, Ms. Family Tree and a couple of brown-nosers, I also found this semester's Sleepy Sleeperson and Ms. Non-Ductive Reasoning. Sleepy Sleeperson decided to introduce herself about 30 minutes into the class, right after introductions. She took out her bookbag, placed it on her desk, then placed her head on it and checked out. There are only 22 students in the entire class, so, yes, I could see her. I felt like saying, "Really? On the first day? Are you familiar with the concept of first impresssions? How about object permanence? As any 4 year-old will tell you, just because you can't see me doesn't mean that I can't see you." Instead, she woke up just in time for me to say, "If you are sleeping in class, you don't get credit for being here. Stay home and rest."
Ms. Non-Ductive Reasoning introduced herself after class. In a throng of students, she informed me that she already knew that she'd have to miss 2 consecutive classes in the midde of the term. She wanted to know if she could turn in her assignments early. "Yes," I replied, "you'll have to turn them in early. And, by the way, it's not a good idea to miss 2 of 11 classes." "Oh," she said, "I plan to take the first exam and if I understand everything, then I'll miss class. If not, I'll come to class." To my credit, I did not say, "WTF?" Instead, I encouraged her to come to class. I look forward to reading more of her logic process throughout the semester.
So, there's the summer bunch. They're not as colorful as Mark Harmon's group in "Summer School," but then I'm no Mark Harmon either. I know because I don't live on a beach and I don't have a dog.
To get us started, I'd planned to do an introductory song-and-dance and let them go early. I've performed the song-and-dance before, so it's well-rehearsed and undergrad-approved. I got to the classroom and immediately noticed an unmistakable error message on the in-class computer. Investigating further, I learned that despite the summer temperatures outside, the computer was in "deep freeze." Apparently, "deep freeze" means that the computer doesn't do anything - not even "Reboot in 180 seconds" as the error message promises. I know. I waited. Nothing happened.
While I was staring the frozen computer, I considered just how bad life was going to be for the next hour or so if the computer didn't thaw. "Hmm," I thought, "my entire presentation is on Power Point, and there's no way in hell to do the presentation without Power Point because it involves a significant amount of student response to - oh yeah - the stuff that's on Power Point." My heart and stomach sank. "I can just go over the syllabus and send them home," I thought. Then I realized that in my effort to simultaneously save the department's meager resources a small corner of the environment, I posted my syllabus on the school's document-sharing site. No hard copies. Well, I had one, but I could hardly share it with 22 students. "Crap, crappity, crap, crap, crap. Damn me and my frugality and environmental sensibility," I thought as students continued to file in and take their seats.
I'll be honest, I considered running away. I hadn't said anything to them. They didn't know who I was. I'd just be that crazy woman who came in, messed with the computer, looked stricken, and left. But - my professionalism and desire for food and rent money won out. I called Tech Support. So, the first words my students heard this semester were: "Hello, yes, I'm in my classroom ready to teach and the computer is in deep freeze." I'm hoping it's not a metaphor for the entire semester.
Instead of launching into my rehearsed song-and-dance, I improvised. I'm very proud to say that I did not launch into, "So, who's here from out of town? I just flew in from College Town and boy, are my arms tired!" No, I blabbered on and on and on about things related to the class in no particular order. Here's hoping my students understand garbled jibberish. I figure they speak and text it, so they should understand it [insert rimshot here].
When I ran out of things to say, I asked them to introduce themselves. I asked each of them to say his or her name, where he or she was from, and one thing that interests them about history. We got off to a rousing start when 3 of the first 4 students declared that they "really didn't like history." The entire subject written off as boring and irrelevant. Great.
We continued around the room and the chorus of History Haters grew. Surprisingly, many of the HHs were girls, while many of the non-HHs were boys. I'm not sure what that's about, but I think it's interesting. I wasn't aware that history had become a "boy's subject," like math and science used to be. Anyway, of the non-HHs, one likes world history, one likes military history ("battles, generals, and war"), and one likes ancestoral history - or the history of her own family. Great. Out of a very small percentage of the class that doesn't absolutely hate history, a significant proportion like the history that I don't teach. Fantastic.
Mr. AV finally showed up and disappeared behind the desk. I continued my ad lib. I was almost out of material when he poked his head out, declaring that he had fixed the problem. Happily, he was right. By this time, we were at least 40 minutes into class and 2 students came strolling in. I guess they decided they'd only come in if there was Power Point.
One of the late arrivals is a repeater from a previous semester. He registered late that semester, had really inconsistent attendance, and eventually disappeared - which explains why he's back. It doesn't explain why he decided to come to class 40 minutes late on the first day. I'm sure that he decided to retake the class with me because he's somewhat familiar with my teaching style. The flaw in his plan is that I am also familiar with his past performance. Showing up 40 minutes late doesn't necessarily convince me that he's ready to make a bigger commitment to the class.
So, along with the contingent of HHs, the Repeater, Col. Military, Ms. Family Tree and a couple of brown-nosers, I also found this semester's Sleepy Sleeperson and Ms. Non-Ductive Reasoning. Sleepy Sleeperson decided to introduce herself about 30 minutes into the class, right after introductions. She took out her bookbag, placed it on her desk, then placed her head on it and checked out. There are only 22 students in the entire class, so, yes, I could see her. I felt like saying, "Really? On the first day? Are you familiar with the concept of first impresssions? How about object permanence? As any 4 year-old will tell you, just because you can't see me doesn't mean that I can't see you." Instead, she woke up just in time for me to say, "If you are sleeping in class, you don't get credit for being here. Stay home and rest."
Ms. Non-Ductive Reasoning introduced herself after class. In a throng of students, she informed me that she already knew that she'd have to miss 2 consecutive classes in the midde of the term. She wanted to know if she could turn in her assignments early. "Yes," I replied, "you'll have to turn them in early. And, by the way, it's not a good idea to miss 2 of 11 classes." "Oh," she said, "I plan to take the first exam and if I understand everything, then I'll miss class. If not, I'll come to class." To my credit, I did not say, "WTF?" Instead, I encouraged her to come to class. I look forward to reading more of her logic process throughout the semester.
So, there's the summer bunch. They're not as colorful as Mark Harmon's group in "Summer School," but then I'm no Mark Harmon either. I know because I don't live on a beach and I don't have a dog.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
More Favorite Things - Blue Books
Yes, that's a stack of blue books. Graded blue books. Those are, by far, bar none, my favorite kind of blue books. I took this picture this past Friday, when this batch was freshly graded. Since then, I've added a second stack of graded blue books. Two stacks finished, with only two more to go. And one of the remaining stacks will be my small class - a mere third of the others.
I especially love graded blue books at this time of year. I love them because I don't have to make any comments on the exams. Students never return for their final blue books, so I can blaze through them quickly and efficiently, jotting down notes in my own shorthand just in case the student raises questions about his or her grade. I don't have to go through each one, writing comments that barely 1/10 of them will ever read. OK, I don't know if they read my comments or not. I do know that many of them continue to make the same mistakes - so either they're not reading or my comments are wholly unhelpful.
I should mention that a number of students did improve over the course of the semester. Their final essays were substantially better than when we started the semester and some even began to master the art of historical context and historical significance. Best of all, many figured out how to study without a Study Guide. These students were amply rewarded. [When I do a series on my "least favorite things," Study Guides will be at the top of the list.]
I also love blue books at this time of year because I know that I won't see anymore from these students. This is it. The end of the line. That light at the tunnel is shining brighter everyday. Yeah, I know that I'm supposed to feel pain in my heart as each of the little darlins leave. But, here's the truth of the matter: It's been a really, really long semester. Big City University decided that we didn't need any time off for the holidays, so we were back at work on January 5. I know, all you public school teachers are thinking, "Yeah, so?" Well, we pampered, coddled college profs are accustomed to a longer break, usually well into January. We spend the time revising our syllabi, reading ahead for our classes, planning interesting interactive activities for our students, writing an article or two, revising our dissertations for publication -all this when we're not watching movies, shopping, reading trashy fiction, and playing on the internet.
This is what Big City University took away and I'm feeling the painful consequences. I've been exhausted all semester, which translated into a bad attitude toward my students, particularly those in my first class of the day. Yes, they contributed to my negativity, but I can usually find some redeeming quality in a class. Some glimmer of hope that overrides all the jackassity in the room. Not in this class. And, with only 15 minutes between classes, I carried my frustration into my second class. It took about half of the semester for me to realize that I just needed to get through my first class, shake it off, and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I think that a longer January break would have helped us all.
So, once I get the last blue books graded later this week, I can settle into a month-long break before heading into summer school. I've already got several projects lined up for the break, like coming up with the syllabus for my summer class, but I'm also going to enjoy the time off.
I especially love graded blue books at this time of year. I love them because I don't have to make any comments on the exams. Students never return for their final blue books, so I can blaze through them quickly and efficiently, jotting down notes in my own shorthand just in case the student raises questions about his or her grade. I don't have to go through each one, writing comments that barely 1/10 of them will ever read. OK, I don't know if they read my comments or not. I do know that many of them continue to make the same mistakes - so either they're not reading or my comments are wholly unhelpful.
I should mention that a number of students did improve over the course of the semester. Their final essays were substantially better than when we started the semester and some even began to master the art of historical context and historical significance. Best of all, many figured out how to study without a Study Guide. These students were amply rewarded. [When I do a series on my "least favorite things," Study Guides will be at the top of the list.]
I also love blue books at this time of year because I know that I won't see anymore from these students. This is it. The end of the line. That light at the tunnel is shining brighter everyday. Yeah, I know that I'm supposed to feel pain in my heart as each of the little darlins leave. But, here's the truth of the matter: It's been a really, really long semester. Big City University decided that we didn't need any time off for the holidays, so we were back at work on January 5. I know, all you public school teachers are thinking, "Yeah, so?" Well, we pampered, coddled college profs are accustomed to a longer break, usually well into January. We spend the time revising our syllabi, reading ahead for our classes, planning interesting interactive activities for our students, writing an article or two, revising our dissertations for publication -all this when we're not watching movies, shopping, reading trashy fiction, and playing on the internet.
This is what Big City University took away and I'm feeling the painful consequences. I've been exhausted all semester, which translated into a bad attitude toward my students, particularly those in my first class of the day. Yes, they contributed to my negativity, but I can usually find some redeeming quality in a class. Some glimmer of hope that overrides all the jackassity in the room. Not in this class. And, with only 15 minutes between classes, I carried my frustration into my second class. It took about half of the semester for me to realize that I just needed to get through my first class, shake it off, and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I think that a longer January break would have helped us all.
So, once I get the last blue books graded later this week, I can settle into a month-long break before heading into summer school. I've already got several projects lined up for the break, like coming up with the syllabus for my summer class, but I'm also going to enjoy the time off.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Grading Meltdown
I've hit a wall. A big brick wall. I've been grading for 3 days straight and I have many more papers before I sleep. I keep telling myself to keep going. There is an end to this grading nightmare and I'll never find it if I stop. I've even tried bribing myself with peanut butter cups(living on the edge with the recent salmonella scare). Nothing is working. I'm going to give into my lesser instincts and whine like a baby. Waaaa, waaaaaa, waaaaaaa.
My students have just about convinced me that our founding fathers were a bunch of whiny, spoiled babies. Don't believe me? You read 100+ flag-waving papers about how we really stuck it to Great Britain. After reading the evidence over and over and over again, I'm starting to see Britain's side of things. I mean, c'mon, they were just trying to collect taxes that were rightfully theirs. And those stingy colonists, who'd lived it up for quite a while, certainly had an inflated sense of entitlement.
Here's my new interpretation of the colonists' point of view: "Oh no, see, we don't have to pay taxes because we don't have any representatives in Parliament. See, we're the only people who can represent us because we're soooo unique and special, except that we're just like all the other British subjects. Confused? Must be your problem because I am making perfect sense. What's that? You're sending troops? And they're going to live in my house? Oh no you di'n't! We're declaring independence from your ass! Oh snap!"
I'm pretty sure that's what Thomas Jefferson wanted to say. See how committee wordsmithing can really ruin a perfectly good declaration? I'm considering defecting to England. The accent is much cooler and Orlando Bloom lives there. And there aren't any papers to grade. Good enough reasons for me.
Must grade more papers.
My students have just about convinced me that our founding fathers were a bunch of whiny, spoiled babies. Don't believe me? You read 100+ flag-waving papers about how we really stuck it to Great Britain. After reading the evidence over and over and over again, I'm starting to see Britain's side of things. I mean, c'mon, they were just trying to collect taxes that were rightfully theirs. And those stingy colonists, who'd lived it up for quite a while, certainly had an inflated sense of entitlement.
Here's my new interpretation of the colonists' point of view: "Oh no, see, we don't have to pay taxes because we don't have any representatives in Parliament. See, we're the only people who can represent us because we're soooo unique and special, except that we're just like all the other British subjects. Confused? Must be your problem because I am making perfect sense. What's that? You're sending troops? And they're going to live in my house? Oh no you di'n't! We're declaring independence from your ass! Oh snap!"
I'm pretty sure that's what Thomas Jefferson wanted to say. See how committee wordsmithing can really ruin a perfectly good declaration? I'm considering defecting to England. The accent is much cooler and Orlando Bloom lives there. And there aren't any papers to grade. Good enough reasons for me.
Must grade more papers.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
This close to being outraged
I'm on an antibiotic. I'm not going to say why because I believe that boundaries are our friends, and I know where this kind of conversation can lead and I don't want to hear about your medical problems. It's not that I don't care, it's just that ... who am I trying to fool? I don't care. The only reason I bring up my problem is to rant. Earlier in the week, my doctor prescribed a course of treatment: 3 pills for 3 days. Simple enough. So, I took the prescription to the pharmacy and learned that my insurance company would only pay for 2 pills at a time. Sure, that makes sense. I mean, paper-pushing penny-pinchers clearly have a MUCH better idea about what I need than MY DOCTOR. I took my 2 pills and came home.
Yesterday, I called in my "refill." I've just returned from the pharmacy. Seems the insurance company won't pay for me to take 3 pills in one week, no matter what MY DOCTOR (you know, the guy with the medical degree) thinks is an appropriate course of treatment. I tried to explain to the pharmacist that we've already tried it the insurance company's way and it didn't work. She was sympathetic but in the end, I lost the battle. In my frustration, I said, "You know, if this was Viagra, the insurance company would give me as much as I wanted anytime I wanted it." She nodded sympathetically, leaned toward me and muttered, "Yeah, we all know who makes these laws." Horny frustrated old men, that's who.
I took my outrage to Starbucks to refill my coffee supply. Good thing the insurance company isn't standing between me and my caffiene. Heads would roll and cities would burn, I tell you! As I waited for my beverage, I glanced around. Everywhere I looked, students had their noses buried in textbooks - on a holiday weekend. Warmed this cynical professor's heart. None of them were studying history and none of them were my students, but at least I'm not ready to throttle anyone anymore.
Yesterday, I called in my "refill." I've just returned from the pharmacy. Seems the insurance company won't pay for me to take 3 pills in one week, no matter what MY DOCTOR (you know, the guy with the medical degree) thinks is an appropriate course of treatment. I tried to explain to the pharmacist that we've already tried it the insurance company's way and it didn't work. She was sympathetic but in the end, I lost the battle. In my frustration, I said, "You know, if this was Viagra, the insurance company would give me as much as I wanted anytime I wanted it." She nodded sympathetically, leaned toward me and muttered, "Yeah, we all know who makes these laws." Horny frustrated old men, that's who.
I took my outrage to Starbucks to refill my coffee supply. Good thing the insurance company isn't standing between me and my caffiene. Heads would roll and cities would burn, I tell you! As I waited for my beverage, I glanced around. Everywhere I looked, students had their noses buried in textbooks - on a holiday weekend. Warmed this cynical professor's heart. None of them were studying history and none of them were my students, but at least I'm not ready to throttle anyone anymore.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Grading papers
I'm grading papers. I should be looking forward to a nice holiday break. Instead, I'm grading papers. I have no one to blame but myself. Me and my stupid committment to good writing. When will I learn? Students, for the most part, don't care about writing. They only care if they get laid and drunk, preferably at the same time. Why do I torture myself by making them write? Maybe if I made them write about getting laid and drunk...no, even then, their papers would stink.
That's really not fair. Many of my students seemed to take this assignment seriously. They had to choose an autobiographical narrative written by someone reflecting on the 1960s - 1970s. Then, they had to relate one or two main issues in the book to the longer history that we have discussed in class. In other words, I wanted them to demonstrate that they learned something this semester. Show me that you can trace change over time. Show me that you can use specific examples and not talk in complete vaguery. Show me that you cite a source!!
And, some of them did well. Only a few have managed to state an argument in their introduction, but who needs an argument? Who doesn't want to wait until the conclusion to learn the main point of the entire essay? It's like a nice surprise. Sometimes, I play a little game. I try to guess what their argument is as I'm reading, then I see if I'm right when I get to the conclusion. Sometimes I am, and sometimes I'm not. Well, I am right, but the student heads off on a new tangent in the conclusion and doesn't articulate the obvious argument. Oh, the frivolity.
What really wears me out are the plagiarists. These students piss me off. Not a mild irritation, we're talking white-hot rage. Without fail, they're the little jackasses who have been working my last nerve all semester. I hate, hate, hate, hate having to waste my time tracking down the original source of their masterpiece, printing it out, then marking both copies to show the extent of plagiarism.
Then, I have to take time out of my day to meet with the student to explain why he or she won't be receiving any credit for the assignment, and why they can't have a "do over." I hate that I'll have to sit and listen as they explain that they just didn't know that they couldn't "copy and paste" directly from an online source and turn it in with their name on it. I hate that I'll have to show them that I clearly forbid such behavior on my syllabus. Most of all, I hate that I'll spend 20 times more time with these slackers than I will spend with the students who did the assignment correctly.
They can't say I didn't warn them. I told them on the first day of class (and printed on my syllabus) that I am a professional researcher. That's what historians do - we research. When you start using the Britsh spelling of words and citing sources written in German, I know something is up. When you stop speaking in jibberish and start making sense only to return to jibberish, I know something is up. If you can find it on Google, so can I.
My only joy will come when I tell one hapless jackass that he can't possibly pass the course now. That he will have to repeat this course that he so clearly enjoyed. That he will not be welcome in any of my classes next semester. Then, I can kick him out of class for the rest of the semester. OK, it's only 3 more classes, but I won't have to look at his sourpuss and that makes me very happy.
I refuse to give up on teaching writing skills. I refuse. I do. Really. (sob, sob)
That's really not fair. Many of my students seemed to take this assignment seriously. They had to choose an autobiographical narrative written by someone reflecting on the 1960s - 1970s. Then, they had to relate one or two main issues in the book to the longer history that we have discussed in class. In other words, I wanted them to demonstrate that they learned something this semester. Show me that you can trace change over time. Show me that you can use specific examples and not talk in complete vaguery. Show me that you cite a source!!
And, some of them did well. Only a few have managed to state an argument in their introduction, but who needs an argument? Who doesn't want to wait until the conclusion to learn the main point of the entire essay? It's like a nice surprise. Sometimes, I play a little game. I try to guess what their argument is as I'm reading, then I see if I'm right when I get to the conclusion. Sometimes I am, and sometimes I'm not. Well, I am right, but the student heads off on a new tangent in the conclusion and doesn't articulate the obvious argument. Oh, the frivolity.
What really wears me out are the plagiarists. These students piss me off. Not a mild irritation, we're talking white-hot rage. Without fail, they're the little jackasses who have been working my last nerve all semester. I hate, hate, hate, hate having to waste my time tracking down the original source of their masterpiece, printing it out, then marking both copies to show the extent of plagiarism.
Then, I have to take time out of my day to meet with the student to explain why he or she won't be receiving any credit for the assignment, and why they can't have a "do over." I hate that I'll have to sit and listen as they explain that they just didn't know that they couldn't "copy and paste" directly from an online source and turn it in with their name on it. I hate that I'll have to show them that I clearly forbid such behavior on my syllabus. Most of all, I hate that I'll spend 20 times more time with these slackers than I will spend with the students who did the assignment correctly.
They can't say I didn't warn them. I told them on the first day of class (and printed on my syllabus) that I am a professional researcher. That's what historians do - we research. When you start using the Britsh spelling of words and citing sources written in German, I know something is up. When you stop speaking in jibberish and start making sense only to return to jibberish, I know something is up. If you can find it on Google, so can I.
My only joy will come when I tell one hapless jackass that he can't possibly pass the course now. That he will have to repeat this course that he so clearly enjoyed. That he will not be welcome in any of my classes next semester. Then, I can kick him out of class for the rest of the semester. OK, it's only 3 more classes, but I won't have to look at his sourpuss and that makes me very happy.
I refuse to give up on teaching writing skills. I refuse. I do. Really. (sob, sob)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Weekend Update
It's late on Sunday and I'm looking at the back end of another weekend shot to hell. I spent much of the weekend preparing for lectures next week and grading papers. I hate grading. I really hate grading piles of garbage. I know that I'm supposed to offer helpful comments and find at least one good thing in each paper, but when over half of the papers are repetitive, redundant, repetitive summaries of crap, it's hard to be nice. For some, I was reduced to something that sounded a lot like: "Dear Student X: In your paper, you managed to spell your name correctly. Congratulations. It's too bad that you misspelled my name and Fredrick Douglas (the subject of your paper). Better luck next time." I'll just say one thing: Frederick Douglass's name has 2 Es and 2 Ss.
My lecture is incomplete. I want to use clips of oral history interviews and have run into technical difficulties. The CD is a companion to a book about African Americans' memories of Jim Crow segregation. When I did this lecture 4 years ago, I popped the library's copy of the CD into my computer and presto! It loaded straight into Media Player. From there, I could embed individual sound files into my Power Point presentation and really looked like a real techno-badass teacher.
Fast forward 4 years to a new computer, new operating system, and new CD. I put the CD into my computer and I can't load it onto my hard drive. I can play the CD and I can create a playlist in Media Player, but I can't put the individual files onto my hard drive, which means I can't easily embed them into my Power Point presentation. I don't know if this is a copyright issue, a Vista issue, or just God's wrath raining down on me. Grrrr. Very frustrating. Now, instead of looking like a techno-badass professor, I'll look like a techno-idiot, trying to construct a coherent lecture while juggling at least 2 different pieces of equipment. I'm not giving up, even after a major techno meltdown last Thursday.
Late this evening, I checked my email from the northeastern post-industrial wasteland. Second on the list was: "Job Offer: Secret Shopper." I like to shop, I thought. I don't like to grade, but grading salespeople might actually be fun. Just so I don't have to read any papers about Fredrick Douglas waiting on people.
My lecture is incomplete. I want to use clips of oral history interviews and have run into technical difficulties. The CD is a companion to a book about African Americans' memories of Jim Crow segregation. When I did this lecture 4 years ago, I popped the library's copy of the CD into my computer and presto! It loaded straight into Media Player. From there, I could embed individual sound files into my Power Point presentation and really looked like a real techno-badass teacher.
Fast forward 4 years to a new computer, new operating system, and new CD. I put the CD into my computer and I can't load it onto my hard drive. I can play the CD and I can create a playlist in Media Player, but I can't put the individual files onto my hard drive, which means I can't easily embed them into my Power Point presentation. I don't know if this is a copyright issue, a Vista issue, or just God's wrath raining down on me. Grrrr. Very frustrating. Now, instead of looking like a techno-badass professor, I'll look like a techno-idiot, trying to construct a coherent lecture while juggling at least 2 different pieces of equipment. I'm not giving up, even after a major techno meltdown last Thursday.
Late this evening, I checked my email from the northeastern post-industrial wasteland. Second on the list was: "Job Offer: Secret Shopper." I like to shop, I thought. I don't like to grade, but grading salespeople might actually be fun. Just so I don't have to read any papers about Fredrick Douglas waiting on people.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Getting Dumber
The other day, I read Leonard Pitts's editorial in the local paper. I like Pitts. I can see where others might disagree with his views, but I like his reasoned approach to relevant topics. If nothing else, he makes me think, which isn't such a bad thing.
In this week's editorial, Pitts focused on recent reports from Wasilla, Alaska, claiming that former mayor Sarah Palin once asked the local librarian to remove certain books from the library shelves. Pitts used this report as a springboard to comment on "anti-intellectualism" in the United States. He forcefully argued that whether one agrees with a book or not, it's important to read. He concludes with:
"We are becoming the stupid giant of the planet Earth: richer than Midas, mightier than Thor, dumber than rocks. Which makes us a danger to the planet - and to ourselves. This country cannot continue to prosper and embrace stupidity. The two are fundamentally incompatible." (Leonard Pitts, Athens - Banner Herald, September 22, 2008)
I have to say that I'm on Pitts's side in this debate, though I think the "big stupid giant of planet Earth" may spring forth from different origins. Instead of being born from a complex argument against intellectualism (which seems contradictory), I think the giant is the result of just plain laziness. After grading 170 undergraduate exams, I'm appalled at some of my students' performance. I realize that I'm teaching a required course that isn't at the top of my students' lists, and I realize that not everyone likes history, but that doesn't excuse some of the absolute crap answers that litter the pages of these exams. Some of my students have yet to buy the books for class, much less READ the books for class.
Last week, I explained their paper assignment. It's a 4-5 page paper that requires that they read an entire 250-page book. That's right, the entire book. Gasp. I've given them a 2-month heads-up on this assignment. In other words, they have 2 months to read 250 pages. I feel sure that some will find an online review and/or summary and try to forego the actual reading part of this assignment. Or some will just make shit up from the title, hoping that I won't notice. Something like: "My paper is on Lakota Woman. It's about a woman who is a Lakota Indian. She had superpowers. She could fly and shoot fire from her fingertips. She was a real badass."
Others will read the first 20 pages of the book and try to write their papers. I don't think my students will refuse to read the book because they have formulated a complex critique of intellectualism in this country. I think they're just lazy. Either way, they're contributing to Pitts's "stupid giant of planet Earth."
But, I also know that some will actually read the book. Yesterday, one student actually had the library copy of the book, and had a bookmark to mark her place. The paper isn't due for 2 months and she'd started the book. I almost cried. In another class, I have a perpetual texter. I've called his attention to it, told him to put his phone away, and he persists. One day, when I was lecturing at a snail's pace, he pulled out _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O'Brien and started to read. I didn't say a word. I was so happy that he was reading a real live book.
So, here's to Leonard Pitts for having the guts to remind us that reading isn't obsolete or dead. I will continue, in my little way, to be David to the stupid giant of planet Earth.
In this week's editorial, Pitts focused on recent reports from Wasilla, Alaska, claiming that former mayor Sarah Palin once asked the local librarian to remove certain books from the library shelves. Pitts used this report as a springboard to comment on "anti-intellectualism" in the United States. He forcefully argued that whether one agrees with a book or not, it's important to read. He concludes with:
"We are becoming the stupid giant of the planet Earth: richer than Midas, mightier than Thor, dumber than rocks. Which makes us a danger to the planet - and to ourselves. This country cannot continue to prosper and embrace stupidity. The two are fundamentally incompatible." (Leonard Pitts, Athens - Banner Herald, September 22, 2008)
I have to say that I'm on Pitts's side in this debate, though I think the "big stupid giant of planet Earth" may spring forth from different origins. Instead of being born from a complex argument against intellectualism (which seems contradictory), I think the giant is the result of just plain laziness. After grading 170 undergraduate exams, I'm appalled at some of my students' performance. I realize that I'm teaching a required course that isn't at the top of my students' lists, and I realize that not everyone likes history, but that doesn't excuse some of the absolute crap answers that litter the pages of these exams. Some of my students have yet to buy the books for class, much less READ the books for class.
Last week, I explained their paper assignment. It's a 4-5 page paper that requires that they read an entire 250-page book. That's right, the entire book. Gasp. I've given them a 2-month heads-up on this assignment. In other words, they have 2 months to read 250 pages. I feel sure that some will find an online review and/or summary and try to forego the actual reading part of this assignment. Or some will just make shit up from the title, hoping that I won't notice. Something like: "My paper is on Lakota Woman. It's about a woman who is a Lakota Indian. She had superpowers. She could fly and shoot fire from her fingertips. She was a real badass."
Others will read the first 20 pages of the book and try to write their papers. I don't think my students will refuse to read the book because they have formulated a complex critique of intellectualism in this country. I think they're just lazy. Either way, they're contributing to Pitts's "stupid giant of planet Earth."
But, I also know that some will actually read the book. Yesterday, one student actually had the library copy of the book, and had a bookmark to mark her place. The paper isn't due for 2 months and she'd started the book. I almost cried. In another class, I have a perpetual texter. I've called his attention to it, told him to put his phone away, and he persists. One day, when I was lecturing at a snail's pace, he pulled out _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O'Brien and started to read. I didn't say a word. I was so happy that he was reading a real live book.
So, here's to Leonard Pitts for having the guts to remind us that reading isn't obsolete or dead. I will continue, in my little way, to be David to the stupid giant of planet Earth.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Exam Fall-Out
Yesterday, I returned to the classroom for the first time since my students took their exam. Some students were in good spirits and seemed to be relieved to have the exam behind them. These students were in the minority. More of my students fell into one of three categories:
1) Surly McPissed: These students were noticably irritated about something. I can't say for sure if I was the source of their irritation, but they were less than cordial. One of my good students was positively seething in the front row, slamming her computer shut at the end of class and bolting from the room. Others chose to express their displeasure by whispering to their neighbors and scowling. One group of boys were particularly irritated when I neglected to say that they didn't need to copy down a bunch of population figures I'd posted in my powerpoint lecture. One slammed down his pen and looked completely exasperated. I felt like saying, "Dude, I'm saving you some work here. If you'd like, I can make you memorize the population of the top 10 US cities in 1820. Would that make you happier?" Instead of doing this, I called on him, by name. I never underestimate the power of learning students' names. He muttered a half-right answer and paid attention for the rest of class. Message: You can be pissed at me, but don't disrupt the entire class. And I know who you are - and all of your little friends, too.
2) Mr. or Ms. Damage Control: While Surly McPissed shut down for the day, I had other students who positively came to life. Students who'd never said anything in class before contributed wholeheartedly to discussion. And they weren't just blowing smoke. The regular contributors kept swiveling around to see who was stealing their thunder. The New Talkers were joined by a legion of students who are now much more invested in taking good notes in class. I'm slowing to a snail's pace in lecture, but I'm willing to trade pace for attention any day.
3) Absent McMissing: In 3 out of 4 classes, I noticed regular attendees who were noticeably absent. Again, I know the world doesn't revolve around me and my class, but I can't help but think that their absence was related to the exam. Maybe they decided to give themselves the day off. Maybe they couldn't face the class again. Maybe they're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and are under the care of medical professionals. Who knows? I checked my class rosters and none of them has dropped the class. I guess I'll wait until next week and see if they decide to materialize.
I figure that I'll get students re-acclimated to the class just in time to give the exams back, thus touching off a whole new round of responses.
1) Surly McPissed: These students were noticably irritated about something. I can't say for sure if I was the source of their irritation, but they were less than cordial. One of my good students was positively seething in the front row, slamming her computer shut at the end of class and bolting from the room. Others chose to express their displeasure by whispering to their neighbors and scowling. One group of boys were particularly irritated when I neglected to say that they didn't need to copy down a bunch of population figures I'd posted in my powerpoint lecture. One slammed down his pen and looked completely exasperated. I felt like saying, "Dude, I'm saving you some work here. If you'd like, I can make you memorize the population of the top 10 US cities in 1820. Would that make you happier?" Instead of doing this, I called on him, by name. I never underestimate the power of learning students' names. He muttered a half-right answer and paid attention for the rest of class. Message: You can be pissed at me, but don't disrupt the entire class. And I know who you are - and all of your little friends, too.
2) Mr. or Ms. Damage Control: While Surly McPissed shut down for the day, I had other students who positively came to life. Students who'd never said anything in class before contributed wholeheartedly to discussion. And they weren't just blowing smoke. The regular contributors kept swiveling around to see who was stealing their thunder. The New Talkers were joined by a legion of students who are now much more invested in taking good notes in class. I'm slowing to a snail's pace in lecture, but I'm willing to trade pace for attention any day.
3) Absent McMissing: In 3 out of 4 classes, I noticed regular attendees who were noticeably absent. Again, I know the world doesn't revolve around me and my class, but I can't help but think that their absence was related to the exam. Maybe they decided to give themselves the day off. Maybe they couldn't face the class again. Maybe they're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and are under the care of medical professionals. Who knows? I checked my class rosters and none of them has dropped the class. I guess I'll wait until next week and see if they decide to materialize.
I figure that I'll get students re-acclimated to the class just in time to give the exams back, thus touching off a whole new round of responses.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Teaching
I've been doing a lot of thinking about teaching lately. I've also been doing a lot of being exhausted and generally not feeling well. Perhaps that contributed to my general malaise about teaching.
After grading the first round of papers from my four classes of up to 46 students, I've discovered that my students have a wide range of abilities. For the assignment, they had to take a short primary document written in 1777 and answer 3 questions. The answers to the first 2 questions were in the book. They had to think about the 3rd question. So, this assignment let me evaluate if they'd read, if they understood what they read, and if they could take one step beyond the book to analyze what they read.
I learned that some of my students can write beautifully, presenting a thoughtful and organized set of ideas that not only summarize the material, but offers an interpretation. Others can summarize well but are reluctant to analyze, because analysis requires going beyond what's in the text to offer an informed opinion. Much easier and safer to repeat what's in the book. And, finally, there are the ones who just plain missed the boat. They either completely misinterpreted the document or their writing is so convoluted that it's difficult to know what they're trying to convey.
My job would be a lot easier if students grouped into these categories in each of my classes. In other words, all of the good writers would be in one class, and so on. I know I'm not the first person to say this, but it's challenging to figure out an approach that meets the needs of all students in the room. If I teach to the "A" students, I lose the "C's" and "D's". If I keep the "C's" engaged, they might become "B's", but then I've lost the "A's".
My sense is that I've been lecturing too fast for about a third of my students. Last week, I slowed down in one class and found myself going so slowly that I lost my place several times. The pace also encouraged students to try to write down every word I said, which made things even slower. I lost quite a few "A's" along the way. One fellow even took out a book and started reading, and I didn't blame him.
At that point, I became very discouraged. Here I was, in a college classroom at a major research university, and my students had no idea how to take notes from a lecture. I wondered how many of my students in my other classes required a lecture at that pace. That thought snowballed into, "Holy crap. We're 5 weeks into the semester and it's possible that about half of my students haven't understood a damn thing I've said or done."
I was even more discouraged when a good student approached me after my last lecture. She said, "I don't think you realize how much material you just covered." Again, I thought, "I have to teach all of US History in one semester. If you think that my 45-minute narrowly-focused lectures cover too much material, we're in deep trouble."
I know that I'll have some students who just won't try because they just don't care. There's not much I can do about them. But, I also know that I'll have some students who decided that they hated history in high school. They decided that they'd hate this class before they ever walked in the room. My goal is to try to change their opinions. But, to change their minds, they need to be willing to engage in historical questions, not simply memorization. They need to be willing to work and think, not simply wait for the next spoonful of information. They need to be willing to read. I'm not kidding when I say that more than a few of my students haven't even tried to get the books for this class and seem surprised that I'm actually going to hold them accountable for the assignments in the books.
While I continue to try to work this out, I'm checking out job announcements for permanent positions. I sense that a large part of my frustration is directly related to the fact that I'm only teaching captive audiences - students who are forced to take this very broad survey course and could care less about history. Again, we're 5 weeks in and I'm very tired.
After grading the first round of papers from my four classes of up to 46 students, I've discovered that my students have a wide range of abilities. For the assignment, they had to take a short primary document written in 1777 and answer 3 questions. The answers to the first 2 questions were in the book. They had to think about the 3rd question. So, this assignment let me evaluate if they'd read, if they understood what they read, and if they could take one step beyond the book to analyze what they read.
I learned that some of my students can write beautifully, presenting a thoughtful and organized set of ideas that not only summarize the material, but offers an interpretation. Others can summarize well but are reluctant to analyze, because analysis requires going beyond what's in the text to offer an informed opinion. Much easier and safer to repeat what's in the book. And, finally, there are the ones who just plain missed the boat. They either completely misinterpreted the document or their writing is so convoluted that it's difficult to know what they're trying to convey.
My job would be a lot easier if students grouped into these categories in each of my classes. In other words, all of the good writers would be in one class, and so on. I know I'm not the first person to say this, but it's challenging to figure out an approach that meets the needs of all students in the room. If I teach to the "A" students, I lose the "C's" and "D's". If I keep the "C's" engaged, they might become "B's", but then I've lost the "A's".
My sense is that I've been lecturing too fast for about a third of my students. Last week, I slowed down in one class and found myself going so slowly that I lost my place several times. The pace also encouraged students to try to write down every word I said, which made things even slower. I lost quite a few "A's" along the way. One fellow even took out a book and started reading, and I didn't blame him.
At that point, I became very discouraged. Here I was, in a college classroom at a major research university, and my students had no idea how to take notes from a lecture. I wondered how many of my students in my other classes required a lecture at that pace. That thought snowballed into, "Holy crap. We're 5 weeks into the semester and it's possible that about half of my students haven't understood a damn thing I've said or done."
I was even more discouraged when a good student approached me after my last lecture. She said, "I don't think you realize how much material you just covered." Again, I thought, "I have to teach all of US History in one semester. If you think that my 45-minute narrowly-focused lectures cover too much material, we're in deep trouble."
I know that I'll have some students who just won't try because they just don't care. There's not much I can do about them. But, I also know that I'll have some students who decided that they hated history in high school. They decided that they'd hate this class before they ever walked in the room. My goal is to try to change their opinions. But, to change their minds, they need to be willing to engage in historical questions, not simply memorization. They need to be willing to work and think, not simply wait for the next spoonful of information. They need to be willing to read. I'm not kidding when I say that more than a few of my students haven't even tried to get the books for this class and seem surprised that I'm actually going to hold them accountable for the assignments in the books.
While I continue to try to work this out, I'm checking out job announcements for permanent positions. I sense that a large part of my frustration is directly related to the fact that I'm only teaching captive audiences - students who are forced to take this very broad survey course and could care less about history. Again, we're 5 weeks in and I'm very tired.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Test Anxiety
I'm not having the time of my life this weekend. I have stacks of student papers to grade, I need to figure out my lecture for next week, I have a badly neglected consulting project to work on, and my students have their first exam on Tuesday. I'd planned for this to be a much better weekend. I only have to prepare one lecture instead of two, the exam was finished last week, and I could use the rest. But, instead, I'm anxious about their exam.
I went through this same agony last semester. I suppose I take an exam as a sign of how well I'm teaching, and I don't want to fail. Last semester, I gave my students a study guide that included a list of key terms (people, places, events) and a list of possible essay questions. I learned that my students drove themselves crazy memorizing details about the key terms, completely ignoring historical significance and connections between the terms. In other words, they missed the point.
This semester, I'm trying a different approach. I've posed key questions at the beginning of my lectures and identified specific review questions in the textbook. I've instructed students to study those questions. I've also advised them to learn the material as if they're learning a story, a story about change over time. I've instructed them to fit significant people, places, and events into these stories and into their questions. I didn't provide a list of key terms. I had them do an exercise in class to demonstrate what I meant.
My confidence in this approach sagged when even my good students asked if they needed to know specific people, places, and events. I'm now convinced that they are constructing stories that sound like: First, there were Native Americans. Then, Europeans came. Eventually, they set up colonies that declared independence from Great Britain. They wrote a constitution and pushed Indians west. The end.
Alternatively, because I've basically said to study everything, my best students are driving themselves crazy trying to learn every single little detail about everything in lecture and in the reading. I've told them that I don't aim to trick them and that if they've been in class, taken good notes, and kept up with the reading, they should do fine on the exam. Because it's the first exam, my good students don't trust me or themselves.
Here's the thing: I'm still trying to figure out how to help students study without telling them what's on the exam. I could tell my good students to just study their class notes and they'll be fine - because they've taken good notes. But, the vast majority of my students simply copy my powerpoint slides, even though I've told them that they need to write down more than what's in front of them. When I do powerpoint, I list important terms (people, events, places), but I don't fill in details on the slide. That's what I do in lecture. So, if all you do is copy the slides, you have a list but nothing else. Too many of my students haven't figured this out, or don't care. I put up a slide and they all start writing furiously, not listening to a damn thing that I'm saying and treating me like a distraction. Then, once they're done copying the slide, they sit and daydream until I change the slide when like Pavolv's dog, they start copying again.
I'll be the first to admit that I've lectured too quickly for 3 of my 4 classes and I plan to slow down. I also plan to blatantly emphasize important points. I'm going to stop short of saying, "You need to write this down." I'm also going to fight the urge to give them a list of key terms. The good students will figure out what's on the exam.
In the meantime, I just have to try to buttress my own confidence that some of my students will pass this first exam. Then, on Thursday, I'll have to manage the post-test reaction. I predict sullen faces and a new wave of anxiety in lecture as students try to write down every single word that I say, forgetting that they have a textbook if they miss something in lecture. Maybe one day, I'll get used to this.
I went through this same agony last semester. I suppose I take an exam as a sign of how well I'm teaching, and I don't want to fail. Last semester, I gave my students a study guide that included a list of key terms (people, places, events) and a list of possible essay questions. I learned that my students drove themselves crazy memorizing details about the key terms, completely ignoring historical significance and connections between the terms. In other words, they missed the point.
This semester, I'm trying a different approach. I've posed key questions at the beginning of my lectures and identified specific review questions in the textbook. I've instructed students to study those questions. I've also advised them to learn the material as if they're learning a story, a story about change over time. I've instructed them to fit significant people, places, and events into these stories and into their questions. I didn't provide a list of key terms. I had them do an exercise in class to demonstrate what I meant.
My confidence in this approach sagged when even my good students asked if they needed to know specific people, places, and events. I'm now convinced that they are constructing stories that sound like: First, there were Native Americans. Then, Europeans came. Eventually, they set up colonies that declared independence from Great Britain. They wrote a constitution and pushed Indians west. The end.
Alternatively, because I've basically said to study everything, my best students are driving themselves crazy trying to learn every single little detail about everything in lecture and in the reading. I've told them that I don't aim to trick them and that if they've been in class, taken good notes, and kept up with the reading, they should do fine on the exam. Because it's the first exam, my good students don't trust me or themselves.
Here's the thing: I'm still trying to figure out how to help students study without telling them what's on the exam. I could tell my good students to just study their class notes and they'll be fine - because they've taken good notes. But, the vast majority of my students simply copy my powerpoint slides, even though I've told them that they need to write down more than what's in front of them. When I do powerpoint, I list important terms (people, events, places), but I don't fill in details on the slide. That's what I do in lecture. So, if all you do is copy the slides, you have a list but nothing else. Too many of my students haven't figured this out, or don't care. I put up a slide and they all start writing furiously, not listening to a damn thing that I'm saying and treating me like a distraction. Then, once they're done copying the slide, they sit and daydream until I change the slide when like Pavolv's dog, they start copying again.
I'll be the first to admit that I've lectured too quickly for 3 of my 4 classes and I plan to slow down. I also plan to blatantly emphasize important points. I'm going to stop short of saying, "You need to write this down." I'm also going to fight the urge to give them a list of key terms. The good students will figure out what's on the exam.
In the meantime, I just have to try to buttress my own confidence that some of my students will pass this first exam. Then, on Thursday, I'll have to manage the post-test reaction. I predict sullen faces and a new wave of anxiety in lecture as students try to write down every single word that I say, forgetting that they have a textbook if they miss something in lecture. Maybe one day, I'll get used to this.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Good-bye, 39!
Today is my last day to be 39. As of 2AM, or there-bouts, I'll turn 40. How am I spending my last day on this side of the hill? I'm trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do in my classes for the next week. Today's topic: The Constitution & Early Republic. That's 1787 to approximately 1828. My problem isn't too much information, it's too little that I find interesting. Articles of Confederation, blah, blah, blah ... rise of political parties ... blah, blah, blah, federalists vs anti-federalists, blah, blah, blah. Major snoozefest. I'm planning to focus on the 3/5 Compromise and gradual emancipation. When in doubt, stop talking about dead boring white guys.
The first few weeks of the semester have been draining and exhausting. I'm reworking lectures from last semester and had the audacity to hold students accountable for the reading assignments. As of last week (Week 3 of a 16-week semester), about a quarter of them still didn't have the required books for my class. Many whined that "the bookstore didn't have the book." One student claimed that he had looked in every bookstore imaginable. So, I imagined all the possible places for a bookstore. Imagine a bookstore in the sky, he looked there. Imagine a bookstore underground, he looked there. Imagine a bookstore up his ass, he looked there.
After conducting my own investigation in the real bookstore, I discovered that the campus bookstore at Big City University does, in fact, suck. They only ordered enough books for half of my students, and seemed to think that I was unreasonable to expect otherwise. My students could also get their books from 2 other nearby bookstores, but those stores also ran out of books. My students could also get the books online, but very few of them seem to know that you can use the internet to buy more than iTunes and porn.
So, what did my students do? Did they ask their classmates if they could borrow their books? No. Most of them in this predicament threw up their hands and figured that they just couldn't do the assigned reading and paper assignment because they didn't have their own personal copy of the book. Many of them assumed that I'd accept their paper when and if their personal copy of the book ever materialized. No, I said. I explained that they needed to bring me documentation that they had tried to get the book before the paper due date, and I would accept their paper at the next class. Not when their book arrived, at the next class. So far, I'm not impressed with my students' problem-solving abilities.
I explained that the class didn't stop and wait for them. Without access to the book, they were 3 weeks behind in the reading. At that point, some of them turned white and looked like their bowels had just turned to water. Others shrugged ambivalently. I'm no psychic, but I predict that they won't be my best students.
Tomorrow, I get to explain that I'm not going to prepare a study guide that lays out exactly what they need to study for the exam. I've tried the study guide approach before and found that it only encourages students to study history as a set of random names, events, and places that have absolutely no relationship to each other. Even I'd hate history if I had to memorize a bunch of random stuff. So, instead, I'm drawing their attention to the assigned reading in the textbook and my lectures. Reading and lectures that they should have been keeping up with. Reading that I'm sure none of them has even started.
I know what you're asking - aren't these people in college? And, what does any of this have to do with your birthday? Well, I'm giving myself a birthday present. I'm heading off the avalanche of student test anxiety by cancelling class on Thursday. I'll explain to the little darlins that I'm sure that they haven't been keeping up with the reading so I'm giving them extra time to study. When the next exam rolls around, they'll know that they need to keep up or they get what they deserve.
Yes, they're in college, and yes, they should expect to keep up with the reading. Yes, I should just plow ahead and tell them to shut up. Thing is, I don't want to spend my birthday week dealing with a bunch of hostile whiners. This is so much more about me than it is about them. Happy birthday to me!
The first few weeks of the semester have been draining and exhausting. I'm reworking lectures from last semester and had the audacity to hold students accountable for the reading assignments. As of last week (Week 3 of a 16-week semester), about a quarter of them still didn't have the required books for my class. Many whined that "the bookstore didn't have the book." One student claimed that he had looked in every bookstore imaginable. So, I imagined all the possible places for a bookstore. Imagine a bookstore in the sky, he looked there. Imagine a bookstore underground, he looked there. Imagine a bookstore up his ass, he looked there.
After conducting my own investigation in the real bookstore, I discovered that the campus bookstore at Big City University does, in fact, suck. They only ordered enough books for half of my students, and seemed to think that I was unreasonable to expect otherwise. My students could also get their books from 2 other nearby bookstores, but those stores also ran out of books. My students could also get the books online, but very few of them seem to know that you can use the internet to buy more than iTunes and porn.
So, what did my students do? Did they ask their classmates if they could borrow their books? No. Most of them in this predicament threw up their hands and figured that they just couldn't do the assigned reading and paper assignment because they didn't have their own personal copy of the book. Many of them assumed that I'd accept their paper when and if their personal copy of the book ever materialized. No, I said. I explained that they needed to bring me documentation that they had tried to get the book before the paper due date, and I would accept their paper at the next class. Not when their book arrived, at the next class. So far, I'm not impressed with my students' problem-solving abilities.
I explained that the class didn't stop and wait for them. Without access to the book, they were 3 weeks behind in the reading. At that point, some of them turned white and looked like their bowels had just turned to water. Others shrugged ambivalently. I'm no psychic, but I predict that they won't be my best students.
Tomorrow, I get to explain that I'm not going to prepare a study guide that lays out exactly what they need to study for the exam. I've tried the study guide approach before and found that it only encourages students to study history as a set of random names, events, and places that have absolutely no relationship to each other. Even I'd hate history if I had to memorize a bunch of random stuff. So, instead, I'm drawing their attention to the assigned reading in the textbook and my lectures. Reading and lectures that they should have been keeping up with. Reading that I'm sure none of them has even started.
I know what you're asking - aren't these people in college? And, what does any of this have to do with your birthday? Well, I'm giving myself a birthday present. I'm heading off the avalanche of student test anxiety by cancelling class on Thursday. I'll explain to the little darlins that I'm sure that they haven't been keeping up with the reading so I'm giving them extra time to study. When the next exam rolls around, they'll know that they need to keep up or they get what they deserve.
Yes, they're in college, and yes, they should expect to keep up with the reading. Yes, I should just plow ahead and tell them to shut up. Thing is, I don't want to spend my birthday week dealing with a bunch of hostile whiners. This is so much more about me than it is about them. Happy birthday to me!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Back to School
I'm happy to report that I survived my first week at Big City University. The week was a series of predictable events and a few surprises. As I expected, teaching the same class 4 times in 5 hours is utterly exhausting. I have a 45-minute break between my first and second classes, then it's 3 in rapid succession with only 15 minutes in between. By the 4th class, I'm offering my brain very real bribes to "rewind the tape and go through it one more time." Yesterday, it took a good 3-4 minutes to even remember where the tape started.
Also as I expected, many students don't want to take this class. It's a legislated requirement and they resent it. For them, history is a bunch of meaningless and irrelevant names and dates that they are forced to memorize for no apparent reason. My assignment, now that I've accepted it, is to try to get each one of them interested in at least one thing that we cover in the semester. Surely, since we're covering all of US History in one semester, each one of them will find one thing that makes them sit a little taller, brighten the dim bulb, and engage.
Based on this stellar lot, I have my work cut out for me:
Also as I expected, many students don't want to take this class. It's a legislated requirement and they resent it. For them, history is a bunch of meaningless and irrelevant names and dates that they are forced to memorize for no apparent reason. My assignment, now that I've accepted it, is to try to get each one of them interested in at least one thing that we cover in the semester. Surely, since we're covering all of US History in one semester, each one of them will find one thing that makes them sit a little taller, brighten the dim bulb, and engage.
Based on this stellar lot, I have my work cut out for me:
- Mr. "I Already Plan to Screw Up": I met this young fellow within 10 seconds of my announcement that I do not offer extra credit. He shot his hand in the air and asked, "Do you grade on a curve?" I think I sighed audibly and responded, "Not usually." Apparently, he was so excited about this news that he had to share it with a friend because he scooted his chair over to "hide" behind the student in front of him and began texting. I stared at him until he looked up and sheepishly put the phone away. Hey genius, even if you don't look at me, I can still see you. Object permanence, ain't it grand? He wasn't in class yesterday. Hopefully, he's spreading his special brand of goodwill in someone else's "extra credit" class.
- Ms. "Already Stressing About the Exam": I decided not to give a lot of information about the exams in the class on the first day. Instead, I provided a copy of the syllabus and explained that I'd say more about the exams later. This student shot her hand in the air and asked, "Do you give essay exams?" "The exams will be a combination of essays and short answers," I replied. "Will there be any fill-in-the-blank?" she asked. Again, I think I sighed audibly. "I would consider that a short answer question," I explained. Here's one for her: I should go to the Registrar and _____ this course now.
- Mr. "Just How Hard Do I Have to Try?": At the end of class, a student asked, "What is considered a passing grade?" I replied, "I don't know, but I think it's a D." I quickly followed up with,"But you should certainly aspire for a higher grade." "Oh, of course," he replied.
- Ms. "I Have Nothing to Do With My Grades": At the end of class, a student asked, "What grades do most of your students get? A's and B's?" I stifled a laugh and gave my standard response to such questions: "In my classes, at least one student earns each of the grades that are possible. It all depends on the student." I'm not sure what she expected, that I would say, "Oh, thanks for asking. Yeah, I just put a full grade scale on the syllabus for giggles. I really only give A's. It will be our secret, right?"
They're such funny little people. They stubbornly refuse to accept that they actually have an active part to play in this whole process. I don't give grades. They earn grades. If only they'd use their power for good.
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