As I prepare to jump into this new semester with both feet, I put together this little song about today's classes:
Talkin' 'Bout Reconstruction
(sung to the tune of "Talkin' 'Bout a Revolution," by Tracy Chapman)
Don't you know, I'm talkin' 'bout Reconstruction
Sounds like a snoozefest
Don't you know-oh-oh, I'm talkin' 'bout Reconstruction
Sounds like a snoozefest
While I'm talking about radical republicans
Cutting the South into 5 military districts
Students stare, deep blank stares,
Saying prayers, that I won't ask about the reading
Don't you know, talkin' 'bout Reconstruction
Sounds like a snoozefest
Don't you know-oh-oh, talkin' 'bout Reconstruction
Sounds like a snoozefest
Bored students gonna rise up, and drop this class
Bored students gonna rise up, and take some math
Don't you know they're gonna run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run
Don't you know they're gonna run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run
Yes, finally enrollment is starting to drop,
Talkin' 'bout Reconstruction
Yes, finally enrollment is starting to drop,
Talkin' 'bout Reconstruction, oh-oh, oh-no
(My apologies to Tracy Chapman.)
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Bureau-Speak on a Friday Afternoon
Yesterday, I was forced to endure another yet another new faculty training session. The topic: Effective Advising. During this 90-minute session that started at 1:30 on Friday afternoon, I joined three of my fellow social science colleagues to learn more about the convoluted, overly complicated college policies designed to prepare students to be functioning members of society. OK, "learn" might be an overstatement. We were bombarded with lots of acronyms, numbers and requirements with multiple exceptions. The only thing I took away from this session is a renewed appreciation for clear and understandable explanations.
Here's my best re-creation of the workshop: "A student can use Spanish 1101 to fulfill a CPC but if he or she uses it to fulfill a CPC, he or she can't use it toward the core. He or she will have to choose another elective from Area F, but can't choose an elective if he or she needs Learning Support. He or she must pass the Learning Support classes before he or she can register for 1000-level classes in any area. He or she also needs to fulfill the Legislative Requirements by passing specific classes in Area E..." At that point, my head exploded.
As the presenter droned on about areas and levels and a bunch of other bureau-speak gobbledy-gook, I turned my attention to the other people in the room. I realized that I was the only faculty member who did not have a distinct accent. I was also the only female faculty member. There was the prof from Turkey who teaches American government, the Korean prof who teaches US criminal justice classes, and the Dane who teaches world history but yearns to teach Middle East history. I felt so, so . . . ordinary. I didn't have a cool accent, and I was an American teaching American history. Bo-ring! To entertain myself, I started speaking in a thicker southern accent and declared that I was going to start teaching South American literature classes. Only the Dane was amused.
After the session, the Dane and I walked back to our offices on the outskirts of campus. We both agreed that we were now well-equipped to lead any number of students terribly astray on their path to graduation.
Here's my best re-creation of the workshop: "A student can use Spanish 1101 to fulfill a CPC but if he or she uses it to fulfill a CPC, he or she can't use it toward the core. He or she will have to choose another elective from Area F, but can't choose an elective if he or she needs Learning Support. He or she must pass the Learning Support classes before he or she can register for 1000-level classes in any area. He or she also needs to fulfill the Legislative Requirements by passing specific classes in Area E..." At that point, my head exploded.
As the presenter droned on about areas and levels and a bunch of other bureau-speak gobbledy-gook, I turned my attention to the other people in the room. I realized that I was the only faculty member who did not have a distinct accent. I was also the only female faculty member. There was the prof from Turkey who teaches American government, the Korean prof who teaches US criminal justice classes, and the Dane who teaches world history but yearns to teach Middle East history. I felt so, so . . . ordinary. I didn't have a cool accent, and I was an American teaching American history. Bo-ring! To entertain myself, I started speaking in a thicker southern accent and declared that I was going to start teaching South American literature classes. Only the Dane was amused.
After the session, the Dane and I walked back to our offices on the outskirts of campus. We both agreed that we were now well-equipped to lead any number of students terribly astray on their path to graduation.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
And So It Begins
I'm back! It's been a crazy month, so crazy that blogging seemed completely beyond my capabilities. I've decided to carve out a few minutes this evening to catch up a bit. First, the new job: It's exhausting. I made the mistake of volunteering to teach at the auxiliary campus where all the students want to be bulldogs but don't quite have what it takes. They're junior bulldogs. Second-class bulldogs? Calfdogs? While their official status may be in question, they're attitudes more than make up for it. I have 2 late afternoon classes over there and those people are Dementers (like in Harry Potter). They're sucking my soul, man! Imagine 75 minutes of your life with people who steadfastly refuse to engage in any kind of substantive discussion. One kid told this absolutely disgusting story about killing a pregnant spider and that's what got students' attention. Gotta say that I don't have a lot of stories of historical figures killing pregnant insects. So, I'm screwed.
Note the empty shelves. [Insert oohs and ahs here]. What, not impressed? How about this?
My other classes on the main campus are much better. Yes, there's the obligatory contingent of "just out of high school" boys who feel the need to turn the classroom into their own personal testosterone playground, but they're tolerable over the Dead Zone at the other campus. Few snips here and there and the boys fall in line. The rest of them are just cute - the overachieving non-traditional students, the young girls who lose their voices when paired with cute boys in class (or vice versa), the students who surprise themselves when they actually care about the correct interpretation of a primary source. Makes my day worthwhile.
BUT - the big news is the house. All is moving forward and barring any last minute problems, I'm scheduled to close on Wednesday. As of 4PM or so, I should be a homeowner. I'm not much for wild shows of emotion - but WOOHOOOO!! [You can't tell, but I'm flailing my arms like Kermit the Frog.] There are moments when I can't believe that I'm actually going to own a house - and stay put for more than 2-3 years. Then there are other moments when I absolutely cannot wait to move in and settle down. Been way too long in coming.
At first I put off packing, thinking it would jinx the whole thing. Then I realized how much stuff I have and how long it will take for all of it to find its way into boxes. So, I'm making progress.
I've established the staging area: flat surface, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, and boxes. Luckily, I have a job where people use lots of paper. Screw the environment, I say - I need boxes!! One of my new colleagues has appointed himself as the official "Box Monitor," collecting empty boxes on days when I'm not on campus. He's a real dear, and I don't say that about many people.
In the past week, the staging area has become increasingly crowded:
Those boxes on the right are full, as are the boxes on the left. As evidence of my efforts, I offer the following:
Note the empty shelves. [Insert oohs and ahs here]. What, not impressed? How about this?That's an almost empty CD cabinet. The other CDs are just waiting for a half-full box to snuggle into. Forward progress, my friends.
For my friends and family who have helped me move in the past and are already feeling the pangs of moving pains in your backs, let me assure you that I'm hiring movers. Professional movers. They're here for a reason - to move my washing machine and boxes of books. God willing, these things will stay in place for a long while.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Adventures in House-Buying, Part II
Finally, I'm getting around to ending the suspense. After a weekend of finagling and negotiating, I reached an agreement with the home owners and [insert drum roll] we're signing a contract later this week! I'm still in shock and awe that this is really happening.
Here's how it came together: At the end of last week, I made my offer and the home owners countered almost immediately. We weren't far apart and I wasn't far from my limit. So, I countered with my limit. The home owners countered back, reducing their contribution to the closing costs. My agent relayed their last offer and I immediately responded, "That sounds good to me. I accept!" My agent, being wiser than I, advised some caution. "Maybe you want to think about this?" she suggested. Bursting with confidence and sure that I wasn't going to change my mind, I still heeded her advice. "Maybe you're right," I said, "I'll call you in a few hours." And I went on with my day, because classes started at my new job in 48 hours.
I didn't call the agent a few hours later. Instead, I spent the next few hours transforming from a confident first-time home-buyer into a frozen-footed chicken. I kept thinking about how the deal forced me to my limit - not only to get into the house, but also to be in the house. My carefully guarded savings would be gone, which I was prepared for. What I couldn't reconcile was having to spend incoming reserves on two significant repairs. These expenses would delay my attempts to restore my savings and I don't function well without a safety net.
I also thought about how much I know about home ownership and home repairs. My conclusion: I know squat about these things. No, to be more fair, I know less than squat. I know squat-minus-100 about these things. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a pool, staring straight into the deep end. As I thought about the home purchase, paralysis set in, followed by the cold sweat and the shakes.
I called my agent the next day - the day before classes started - and told her about my anxiety. She understood and said she'd pass my concerns to the home owners. I can assure you that I wasn't playing hard-to-get or any other games. I was playing, "Yikes! I'm drowning in a sea of stress and anxiety!!" Whatever I was doing, it worked to my advantage. The home owners responded to my screaming dash away from their house with another counter offer. I read their offer in the midst of the blur of the first day of classes. I couldn't believe it. It seemed to address all of my concerns. I rubbed my eyes and read it again. Yes, it was true. Having learned my lesson from the previous weekend, I told my agent that I wanted to think about it.
The next day - still in the blur of the first week of classes, I called my agent and accepted the offer. Now, it's on to the contract and home inspections. Along the way, I'm learning all sorts of new things: the difference between 3/4 inch tab shingles vs architectural shingles, the difference between an electric heat pump and gas heat, masonry fireplace vs non-masonry fireplace, crickets and roof vents. I feel sure that this is just the tip of the iceberg. And no, I don't want to know what the rest of the iceberg looks like right now, thank you very much.
In the meantime, classes started this week. House stuff combined with the start of a new semester has kept me hanging on by my fingernails. My tenuous grasp was sorely tested on Monday when I learned that my late afternoon class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm not sure where communication broke down, but I've vowed to shepherd my schedule through all phases of the process to make sure that this travesty is not repeated. For the first time in my relatively short teaching career, I'm teaching every day of the week. So far, I'm not fond of this. Don't get me wrong, I'm accustomed to working for 5 days straight. Hell, I'm accustomed to working 6, even 7 days/week. It's having to put on real clothes, do hair and make-up, be at a certain place at a certain time, and interact with people for 5 straight days that's kicked my ass this week. Yeah, yeah, I know, there are plenty of you out there that have been doing this for years and I should just suck it up. I'd type my response, but I try to maintain some standards of decency in this blog. Let's just say that my response involves five fingers and they're not all pointing in the same direction.
I trust that I'll settle into this schedule. I also trust that this semester where I'm starting a new job, prepping 2 different courses, teaching every day, AND buying a house and moving won't kill me. Next semester, barring any unforeseen problems, I'll have one prep and reclaim Fridays as my "sweats day," hopefully in my new house.
Here's how it came together: At the end of last week, I made my offer and the home owners countered almost immediately. We weren't far apart and I wasn't far from my limit. So, I countered with my limit. The home owners countered back, reducing their contribution to the closing costs. My agent relayed their last offer and I immediately responded, "That sounds good to me. I accept!" My agent, being wiser than I, advised some caution. "Maybe you want to think about this?" she suggested. Bursting with confidence and sure that I wasn't going to change my mind, I still heeded her advice. "Maybe you're right," I said, "I'll call you in a few hours." And I went on with my day, because classes started at my new job in 48 hours.
I didn't call the agent a few hours later. Instead, I spent the next few hours transforming from a confident first-time home-buyer into a frozen-footed chicken. I kept thinking about how the deal forced me to my limit - not only to get into the house, but also to be in the house. My carefully guarded savings would be gone, which I was prepared for. What I couldn't reconcile was having to spend incoming reserves on two significant repairs. These expenses would delay my attempts to restore my savings and I don't function well without a safety net.
I also thought about how much I know about home ownership and home repairs. My conclusion: I know squat about these things. No, to be more fair, I know less than squat. I know squat-minus-100 about these things. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a pool, staring straight into the deep end. As I thought about the home purchase, paralysis set in, followed by the cold sweat and the shakes.
I called my agent the next day - the day before classes started - and told her about my anxiety. She understood and said she'd pass my concerns to the home owners. I can assure you that I wasn't playing hard-to-get or any other games. I was playing, "Yikes! I'm drowning in a sea of stress and anxiety!!" Whatever I was doing, it worked to my advantage. The home owners responded to my screaming dash away from their house with another counter offer. I read their offer in the midst of the blur of the first day of classes. I couldn't believe it. It seemed to address all of my concerns. I rubbed my eyes and read it again. Yes, it was true. Having learned my lesson from the previous weekend, I told my agent that I wanted to think about it.
The next day - still in the blur of the first week of classes, I called my agent and accepted the offer. Now, it's on to the contract and home inspections. Along the way, I'm learning all sorts of new things: the difference between 3/4 inch tab shingles vs architectural shingles, the difference between an electric heat pump and gas heat, masonry fireplace vs non-masonry fireplace, crickets and roof vents. I feel sure that this is just the tip of the iceberg. And no, I don't want to know what the rest of the iceberg looks like right now, thank you very much.
In the meantime, classes started this week. House stuff combined with the start of a new semester has kept me hanging on by my fingernails. My tenuous grasp was sorely tested on Monday when I learned that my late afternoon class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, not Mondays and Wednesdays. I'm not sure where communication broke down, but I've vowed to shepherd my schedule through all phases of the process to make sure that this travesty is not repeated. For the first time in my relatively short teaching career, I'm teaching every day of the week. So far, I'm not fond of this. Don't get me wrong, I'm accustomed to working for 5 days straight. Hell, I'm accustomed to working 6, even 7 days/week. It's having to put on real clothes, do hair and make-up, be at a certain place at a certain time, and interact with people for 5 straight days that's kicked my ass this week. Yeah, yeah, I know, there are plenty of you out there that have been doing this for years and I should just suck it up. I'd type my response, but I try to maintain some standards of decency in this blog. Let's just say that my response involves five fingers and they're not all pointing in the same direction.
I trust that I'll settle into this schedule. I also trust that this semester where I'm starting a new job, prepping 2 different courses, teaching every day, AND buying a house and moving won't kill me. Next semester, barring any unforeseen problems, I'll have one prep and reclaim Fridays as my "sweats day," hopefully in my new house.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Fun with Technology
Today, I'd planned a full multimedia experience for my students. I had youtube pop-ups, I had iTunes on the iPod, I had a clip from a DVD, and I had 2 powerpoint presentations. Yes indeedy, it was going to be a big, big blockbuster of a day.
The first half of class went well. I got all the youtube clips set up and brought up the first powerpoint presentation (the same presentation I had to completely reconstruct when I ran into compatibility issues yesterday. Hate it when powerpoint versions just can't get along.) My riveting lecture on the origins of the Cold War went smoothly - complete with the inevitable student's question: Why did the US government get so upset about communism? I've decided this is the biggest indication of a generational divide between me and my students. Well, that and hip hop, which I really just don't get. As a child of the 80s, the threat of communism is ingrained into my DNA. But, for today's students, born after 1989, they have a hard time understanding the dichotomy between democracy/capitalism and communism - and then trying to understand why the US and USSR couldn't just get along.
(Hmm, maybe my 2 versions of powerpoint are fighting a Cold War...)
Anyway, had a good discussion about the threat of communism and moved on to Cold War society. I gave the class a break so I could eat a snack and get set up for the second half of class. Here's where class crashed against the rocky shoals of classroom technology. When I tried to insert the DVD into the computer, I discovered that some jackass decided to mash the eject button all the way into the computer, making it impossible for me to open the drive. Undeterred, I tried the DVD player in the classroom. It would run the DVD, but there was no remote to select scenes - and I didn't want to show the entire movie.
Left with no other choice, I called Tech Support. In the meantime, my diligent students filed back on time. It's the first time all semester that they've been back on time and the first time that I couldn't resume class on time. Anyone who knows anything about psychological theories of reinforcement knows that I'll never get my students back in class on time ever again.
Meanwhile, Mr. Tech Support squatted in front of the computer and jammed a very large knife into the DVD drive. Honestly, I wasn't aware that Tech Support guys were allowed to carry the equivalent of a switchblade hunting knife on campus, but OK, whatever works. I also didn't know that you could jam a machete into a computer and walk away unscathed. He explained that the "knife method" was the only way to work the drive. OR, he said, he could use a student's laptop, if someone would volunteer. The clouds parted, the angels sang, and a student brought forth his laptop. Knifewielding Tech Guy went to work.
While he fiddled with the laptop, cords, plugs, and knives, I explained homework assignments, I whistled a tune, I reviewed the previous lecture - and before I launched into an ad lib comedy routine ("Funny thing about Joseph Stalin..."), I checked in with Knife Boy. No dice. The laptop wouldn't work because the audio plug was no good, which meant no iPod music either.
Knife Boy promised to have everything fixed by Monday and left. The rest of class went better than I expected, mainly because I was still able to show the clip of Elvis and his pelvis. Thank God for Elvis! Here's hoping everything is working on Monday, because teaching late 20th century US history isn't the same without the bells and whistles.
The first half of class went well. I got all the youtube clips set up and brought up the first powerpoint presentation (the same presentation I had to completely reconstruct when I ran into compatibility issues yesterday. Hate it when powerpoint versions just can't get along.) My riveting lecture on the origins of the Cold War went smoothly - complete with the inevitable student's question: Why did the US government get so upset about communism? I've decided this is the biggest indication of a generational divide between me and my students. Well, that and hip hop, which I really just don't get. As a child of the 80s, the threat of communism is ingrained into my DNA. But, for today's students, born after 1989, they have a hard time understanding the dichotomy between democracy/capitalism and communism - and then trying to understand why the US and USSR couldn't just get along.
(Hmm, maybe my 2 versions of powerpoint are fighting a Cold War...)
Anyway, had a good discussion about the threat of communism and moved on to Cold War society. I gave the class a break so I could eat a snack and get set up for the second half of class. Here's where class crashed against the rocky shoals of classroom technology. When I tried to insert the DVD into the computer, I discovered that some jackass decided to mash the eject button all the way into the computer, making it impossible for me to open the drive. Undeterred, I tried the DVD player in the classroom. It would run the DVD, but there was no remote to select scenes - and I didn't want to show the entire movie.
Left with no other choice, I called Tech Support. In the meantime, my diligent students filed back on time. It's the first time all semester that they've been back on time and the first time that I couldn't resume class on time. Anyone who knows anything about psychological theories of reinforcement knows that I'll never get my students back in class on time ever again.
Meanwhile, Mr. Tech Support squatted in front of the computer and jammed a very large knife into the DVD drive. Honestly, I wasn't aware that Tech Support guys were allowed to carry the equivalent of a switchblade hunting knife on campus, but OK, whatever works. I also didn't know that you could jam a machete into a computer and walk away unscathed. He explained that the "knife method" was the only way to work the drive. OR, he said, he could use a student's laptop, if someone would volunteer. The clouds parted, the angels sang, and a student brought forth his laptop. Knifewielding Tech Guy went to work.
While he fiddled with the laptop, cords, plugs, and knives, I explained homework assignments, I whistled a tune, I reviewed the previous lecture - and before I launched into an ad lib comedy routine ("Funny thing about Joseph Stalin..."), I checked in with Knife Boy. No dice. The laptop wouldn't work because the audio plug was no good, which meant no iPod music either.
Knife Boy promised to have everything fixed by Monday and left. The rest of class went better than I expected, mainly because I was still able to show the clip of Elvis and his pelvis. Thank God for Elvis! Here's hoping everything is working on Monday, because teaching late 20th century US history isn't the same without the bells and whistles.
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.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Anyone Notice I Was Gone?
Forgive me, Blogger, it's been 11 days since my last post. I don't really have an excuse, but I could recycle some recent ones from my students. Let's see: I had to be in court. Or, I was really sick with (choose one of the following: conjunctivitis, anaphylactic shock, stomach flu). Or my wife's car broke down - oh wait, I don't have a wife, so that one won't work. How about: my aunt died and I had to go to the funeral across the country. Or, I was in a car accident and hurt both of my arms so I'm unable to carry anything heavy, like a textbook. No, I'm not making any of those up.
None explain my break from my blog. Truth is, I haven't felt particularly inspired to write lately. I've been buried in writing lectures and grading quizzes and exams. Much as I try, I can't seem to find much motivation this semester, and it shows in my students' performance. I'm teaching the same course I taught last semester, using most of the same lectures. I'll admit that some of my lectures were rather uninspired last semester, but some of them actually generated questions and discussion. Some even drew a chuckle or two. Not this semester. I can't quite put a finger on the problem. Maybe I was more enthusiastic about the material when it was new and fresh last semester. Maybe I had more engaged and interested students. Maybe I wasn't as tired at the beginning of the semester. Maybe I'd gotten over my annoyance with studentery and started the semester with more positive feelings about teaching and students. I don't know. Maybe it's a combination of all of those things. All I know is that my afternoon classes aren't much fun this semester.
There have been some good days - days when I feel like I'm on my game and the students participate in a meaningful discussion. I like those days. On those days, I actually hum a little tune and feel some pep in my step as I cross the park to get my 4:15 coffee fix. Those days, I feel like I know what I'm doing and that my students might have actually learned something. Those are good days.
Then, there are the bad days - days when nothing seems to work. The lecture is rather dry and lifeless and I don't have any energy to pep it up. Only a few students did the reading, so discussion goes nowhere. Only a few students can recall anything we've talked about in previous classes, so discussion turns into a muddled mess of confusing, shot-in-the-dark answers to straightforward questions. Students who have checked out capture my attention and I spend the entire class frustrated with, distracted by, and pissed off at sleepers, texters, and internet surfers. These are the days when I wonder why I left my previous profession. These are the days when I drag myself across the park, yearning for the end of my day. These are the days when my feet really, really hurt.
Usually, in any given semester, I'll have one dud class. One class that just never comes together, never gels, never gets a personality, never shows any signs of life. Usually, this one class is counterbalanced with at least one good class. This semester, I feel like all of my afternoon classes are duds. One good day doesn't guarantee success again. Instead, I have to start from scratch everyday - building rapport, establishing good will, encouraging participation, convincing them that the lecture is actually worth listening to. Again, I'm sure I bear some of the responsibility for this exhausting dynamic, but turning it around requires energy, from me and the students. We're both running low at the moment.
I also keep reminding myself that it's often difficult to gauge student "enjoyment" or "engagement." Students who I believe are bored out of their minds and have mentally checked out might, in fact, be enjoying the class. I also remind myself that amidst the sleepers, texters, and surfers, there are students who are engaged, who are listening, who are paying attention. Then, I remind myself that there are 10 more classes until the end of the semester. All of this, and the As and Bs on exams raises my flagging spirit.
None explain my break from my blog. Truth is, I haven't felt particularly inspired to write lately. I've been buried in writing lectures and grading quizzes and exams. Much as I try, I can't seem to find much motivation this semester, and it shows in my students' performance. I'm teaching the same course I taught last semester, using most of the same lectures. I'll admit that some of my lectures were rather uninspired last semester, but some of them actually generated questions and discussion. Some even drew a chuckle or two. Not this semester. I can't quite put a finger on the problem. Maybe I was more enthusiastic about the material when it was new and fresh last semester. Maybe I had more engaged and interested students. Maybe I wasn't as tired at the beginning of the semester. Maybe I'd gotten over my annoyance with studentery and started the semester with more positive feelings about teaching and students. I don't know. Maybe it's a combination of all of those things. All I know is that my afternoon classes aren't much fun this semester.
There have been some good days - days when I feel like I'm on my game and the students participate in a meaningful discussion. I like those days. On those days, I actually hum a little tune and feel some pep in my step as I cross the park to get my 4:15 coffee fix. Those days, I feel like I know what I'm doing and that my students might have actually learned something. Those are good days.
Then, there are the bad days - days when nothing seems to work. The lecture is rather dry and lifeless and I don't have any energy to pep it up. Only a few students did the reading, so discussion goes nowhere. Only a few students can recall anything we've talked about in previous classes, so discussion turns into a muddled mess of confusing, shot-in-the-dark answers to straightforward questions. Students who have checked out capture my attention and I spend the entire class frustrated with, distracted by, and pissed off at sleepers, texters, and internet surfers. These are the days when I wonder why I left my previous profession. These are the days when I drag myself across the park, yearning for the end of my day. These are the days when my feet really, really hurt.
Usually, in any given semester, I'll have one dud class. One class that just never comes together, never gels, never gets a personality, never shows any signs of life. Usually, this one class is counterbalanced with at least one good class. This semester, I feel like all of my afternoon classes are duds. One good day doesn't guarantee success again. Instead, I have to start from scratch everyday - building rapport, establishing good will, encouraging participation, convincing them that the lecture is actually worth listening to. Again, I'm sure I bear some of the responsibility for this exhausting dynamic, but turning it around requires energy, from me and the students. We're both running low at the moment.
I also keep reminding myself that it's often difficult to gauge student "enjoyment" or "engagement." Students who I believe are bored out of their minds and have mentally checked out might, in fact, be enjoying the class. I also remind myself that amidst the sleepers, texters, and surfers, there are students who are engaged, who are listening, who are paying attention. Then, I remind myself that there are 10 more classes until the end of the semester. All of this, and the As and Bs on exams raises my flagging spirit.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Finally caught up with me
Today, I awoke in my own bed, having survived the first week of classes. This is shaping up to be a semester of ups and downs. I'm particularly pleased that none of my classes are full. I don't care why students are avoiding my classes. The end result is less work for me - and I'm not complaining about that. Another plus is that I'm teaching the same class as last semester, so most of the prep is done. This semester, I'm intentionally working on incorporating more in-class assignments. This is a much easier task than starting from scratch.
A major downside is my schedule. I start at noon, have three classes back to back to back, then I cool my heels for 3 hours. Three whole hours. Just think of all the things you can do in three hours. You could watch "Saving Private Ryan." You could cook and eat a pot roast. You could enjoy a gala charity event. In the context of my daily existence, I could drive from Big City University to my house in College Town and turn around and drive back.
Instead of doing any of these things, I cool my heels for 3 hours. This extended break is late enough in the day, not to mention at the end of three consecutive classes, that my brain doesn't work anymore. So, if you're going to suggest that I use that time to get real academic work done, save your breath. I'm good for the first 90 minutes, then I can actually feel my brain shutting down. I'm mentally closed for business around the time that all of my colleagues pack it in for the day. I can literally feel a curtain coming down in my head. The little lights in my brain go out, one by one, each one calling out, "OK, that's it for today. See you tomorrow." This is not good, particularly since I have one more group of students to entertain.
This week, I've tried two strategies to try to stop the curtain. Neither were successful. On Monday, I tried to complete administrative tasks (code for: catching up on email and other internet happenings.) I had dinner at about 6PM, thinking that the food would perk me up. Nope. Leftover beef stew just made me all warm and cozy. Curtain continued to come down. Luckily, Monday was an easy night. I reviewed the syllabus and called it a night.
Wednesday, I tried something new. I got coffee after my late afternoon class. I enjoyed a caffiene high for about 90 minutes. Then, the curtain came. Not only was I mentally and physically tired, but I was also in caffiene freefall. Crap. Again, dinner didn't have the desired effect and I struggled through the class. It took every ounce of mental energy to concentrate on what I was saying. I'm not convinced that I was coherent. Next idea: Coffee injection 30 minutes before class. If that doesn't work, I'm bringing a pillow and blanket and settling in for a long winter's nap.
One bright spot in all of this is that the Evening Edition students seem to be good students. Enough of them read the assignment so we had a good discussion. I think that the only way we'll get through the semester is if I ask a lot of questions and they keep participating. We'll just hold hands, take a deep breath, and muddle through together.
So, today, I woke up at home. I felt sluggish most of the morning and by early afternoon, I decided to settle in with my reading-for-fun book. Three hours later, I woke up. I'm no genius, but I think this means that I was tired.
A major downside is my schedule. I start at noon, have three classes back to back to back, then I cool my heels for 3 hours. Three whole hours. Just think of all the things you can do in three hours. You could watch "Saving Private Ryan." You could cook and eat a pot roast. You could enjoy a gala charity event. In the context of my daily existence, I could drive from Big City University to my house in College Town and turn around and drive back.
Instead of doing any of these things, I cool my heels for 3 hours. This extended break is late enough in the day, not to mention at the end of three consecutive classes, that my brain doesn't work anymore. So, if you're going to suggest that I use that time to get real academic work done, save your breath. I'm good for the first 90 minutes, then I can actually feel my brain shutting down. I'm mentally closed for business around the time that all of my colleagues pack it in for the day. I can literally feel a curtain coming down in my head. The little lights in my brain go out, one by one, each one calling out, "OK, that's it for today. See you tomorrow." This is not good, particularly since I have one more group of students to entertain.
This week, I've tried two strategies to try to stop the curtain. Neither were successful. On Monday, I tried to complete administrative tasks (code for: catching up on email and other internet happenings.) I had dinner at about 6PM, thinking that the food would perk me up. Nope. Leftover beef stew just made me all warm and cozy. Curtain continued to come down. Luckily, Monday was an easy night. I reviewed the syllabus and called it a night.
Wednesday, I tried something new. I got coffee after my late afternoon class. I enjoyed a caffiene high for about 90 minutes. Then, the curtain came. Not only was I mentally and physically tired, but I was also in caffiene freefall. Crap. Again, dinner didn't have the desired effect and I struggled through the class. It took every ounce of mental energy to concentrate on what I was saying. I'm not convinced that I was coherent. Next idea: Coffee injection 30 minutes before class. If that doesn't work, I'm bringing a pillow and blanket and settling in for a long winter's nap.
One bright spot in all of this is that the Evening Edition students seem to be good students. Enough of them read the assignment so we had a good discussion. I think that the only way we'll get through the semester is if I ask a lot of questions and they keep participating. We'll just hold hands, take a deep breath, and muddle through together.
So, today, I woke up at home. I felt sluggish most of the morning and by early afternoon, I decided to settle in with my reading-for-fun book. Three hours later, I woke up. I'm no genius, but I think this means that I was tired.
Monday, January 5, 2009
First Days are Never Easy
The new semester is officially underway and what an introduction I've had. I made every effort to avoid the "first day scramble" but it happened anyway. I left the house 15 minutes later than I'd planned. I struggled down the 3 flights of stairs with suitcase, bag of trash, school bag and purse. Got to the car and realized that I'd forgotten the lunch and dinner that I'd painstakingly prepared. Back up the stairs to retrieve the food. Back to the car. Realized I forgot my hair accoutrements. Back up the stairs to retrieve the implements that keep me from looking bedraggled (all evidence to the contrary). Back to the car. Finally decided I had everything I needed and drove out of the apartment complex and turned west, remembering to throw away the trash before I left.
I got into downtown without incident, then all hell broke loose. I didn't print my notes, syllabus, or class rosters at home yesterday because my printer ran out of ink and I simply didn't want to buy more. I figured I could print at Big City University. Nope. Seems my computer and the printer had some sort of falling out over the holidays and now they're not speaking to each other. To further complicate matters, the internet also went down. Yes, the entire BCU internet system stopped working. By this point, I was a cursing machine.
The internet came back about 15 minutes before my first class. I rushed to print my class rosters from a colleague's computer and we rushed off to class......where the computer was cold from non-use. So, I had to wait for it to warm up - which took forever. Then, I couldn't find the remote for the overhead projector. I called the IT help desk and launched into a spontaneous stand-up routine. "So, anyone from out of town," I asked my students. I was about to say, "Funny thing happened on the way to the classroom..." when the IT guy arrived.
There we were in front of the whole class. I explained that I couldn't find the remote and he pulled up a window on the computer and clicked on a button. "We don't have remotes in these classrooms anymore, and we haven't had them for a while now," he said, condescendingly. Fighting the urge to slap him and call him any number of obscene names, I said, "There were remotes in these classrooms last semester." "In this building?" he interrogated. "Yes," I responded, fully aware that I was in front of my students and therefore could not rip the man's head off. He explained something else in his "oh, poor little stupid woman who can't work a computer" tone, and then he left.
OK, in all fairness, he'd probably had a bad morning. I'm sure I wasn't the only one cursing IT's name this morning. But still. My students were relatively forgiving and we stumbled through to the end of the class. My next classes went better. Now, I'm "enjoying" my 3 hour break before my last class of the day. In case you're wondering, 3 hours is a long time.
I got into downtown without incident, then all hell broke loose. I didn't print my notes, syllabus, or class rosters at home yesterday because my printer ran out of ink and I simply didn't want to buy more. I figured I could print at Big City University. Nope. Seems my computer and the printer had some sort of falling out over the holidays and now they're not speaking to each other. To further complicate matters, the internet also went down. Yes, the entire BCU internet system stopped working. By this point, I was a cursing machine.
The internet came back about 15 minutes before my first class. I rushed to print my class rosters from a colleague's computer and we rushed off to class......where the computer was cold from non-use. So, I had to wait for it to warm up - which took forever. Then, I couldn't find the remote for the overhead projector. I called the IT help desk and launched into a spontaneous stand-up routine. "So, anyone from out of town," I asked my students. I was about to say, "Funny thing happened on the way to the classroom..." when the IT guy arrived.
There we were in front of the whole class. I explained that I couldn't find the remote and he pulled up a window on the computer and clicked on a button. "We don't have remotes in these classrooms anymore, and we haven't had them for a while now," he said, condescendingly. Fighting the urge to slap him and call him any number of obscene names, I said, "There were remotes in these classrooms last semester." "In this building?" he interrogated. "Yes," I responded, fully aware that I was in front of my students and therefore could not rip the man's head off. He explained something else in his "oh, poor little stupid woman who can't work a computer" tone, and then he left.
OK, in all fairness, he'd probably had a bad morning. I'm sure I wasn't the only one cursing IT's name this morning. But still. My students were relatively forgiving and we stumbled through to the end of the class. My next classes went better. Now, I'm "enjoying" my 3 hour break before my last class of the day. In case you're wondering, 3 hours is a long time.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Finished, For Now
It is finished. I put the last grade on the last blue book, calculated the last final grade, and electronically submitted my little darlins well-earned marks for the semester. Now, after a semester that seemed like it would never end, I find myself wondering where the time went. I'm in a reflective mood, so I thought I'd share some lessons that I'll take forward:
- No extra credit: I offered extra credit against my better judgement. Lesson learned, there's a reason why it's called "better judgement." As I suspected, it made more work for me than for my students. It also artificially inflated grades that had no business being inflated. Solution: I plan to channel Faye Dunaway in "Mommie Dearest" and declare, "No more extra credit - EVER!" I might even wave a wire hanger.
- More specific guidelines for papers: Students are crafty devils. They can't read a 2-page document or write a 2-page paper, but they're more than happy to spend their time researching a topic that we've covered in class - reading way more than the original assignment required. I'm convinced that students have formed a mass conspiracy to convince professors not to assign papers. That's right - students who can't organize a sentence have organized themselves into a mass social movement devoted to ridding the academy of all expectations about written expression. Solution: I will insist that they cite only course materials in their papers. I will deduct points if they don't. And, I will turn them into the Honor Squad when they call on their good friends at Wikipedia to make up for the fact that they slept through my riveting lecture on Indian Removal.
- Texting: Social networking is great. While I find most of my students to be on the dull side, I'm glad that they have people in their lives who want to respond to their witty and insightful OMGs and LOLs. I'm not so fond of it when they're OMG-ing while I'm TEACHING. Solution: Three strikes and you're out. It's good enough for baseball, it's good enough for me. Take out your cell phone and start texting your friends? Thank you, your cell phone is mine for the remainder of the class. What's that, you're doing it again? Fine, take your little phone and the rest of your belongings and get out for the rest of the class. WTF - again? Fine, I wanted to learn the university's "instructor withdrawal" policy. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. See ya, bye. Same goes for you, Sleepy Sleeperson.
- Smaller chunks: This is a tough one. On the one hand, I learned that I don't like to grade all the time. On the other hand, students don't learn simply because I say, "Write a paper." Solution: More in-class assignments where they have to at least attempt to learn a skill. More grading for me, which hopefully will result in better work in the long run. If not, I'm switching to one cumulative final. That's right - your entire grade is decided on the last day of class. See how they like them apples.
I'm sure that I've learned a lot more, but I'm tired and I think I'll spend the rest of the evening on the couch with a pint of Chocolate Peanut Butter Haagen Dazs. Lesson learned: Reward thyself.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Last Day
Today is my last teaching day for the semester at Big City University. Next week is finals week, which means I get to sit on my tucus (also spelled: tuchus) while my students ponder the ins and outs of the development and evolution of the social welfare state in the United States in the twentieth century. I learned so many new and interesting tidbits from their papers, I feel certain that their exams will be equally enlightening.
On tap for today: New World Order. I plan to destroy the Berlin Wall and free Kuwait in about 30 minutes, including video accoutrements. If I've learned nothing else this semester, I've learned to boil down very complex issues into a steaming mass of marginally meaningful information. Basically, I spent all of graduate school learning how to make a short story long and complicated, and I've spent this semester unlearning all of those lessons. Turns out, everything can be explained on one powerpoint slide. WWII? Hitler - Pearl Harbor - D-Day - Iwo Jima - The End. Ta-da! (No, I'm not proud of this newfound skill.)
In 12 short hours, I'll be home on my couch in my pajamas, catching up on Top Chef and enjoying a large, well-deserved cocktail. But, before I can do that - must get through today.
On tap for today: New World Order. I plan to destroy the Berlin Wall and free Kuwait in about 30 minutes, including video accoutrements. If I've learned nothing else this semester, I've learned to boil down very complex issues into a steaming mass of marginally meaningful information. Basically, I spent all of graduate school learning how to make a short story long and complicated, and I've spent this semester unlearning all of those lessons. Turns out, everything can be explained on one powerpoint slide. WWII? Hitler - Pearl Harbor - D-Day - Iwo Jima - The End. Ta-da! (No, I'm not proud of this newfound skill.)
In 12 short hours, I'll be home on my couch in my pajamas, catching up on Top Chef and enjoying a large, well-deserved cocktail. But, before I can do that - must get through today.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Great, Now Shut Up
Last week, I went to my mid-afternoon class and went through the now familiar routine. Walk in, put my belongings under the desk, rummage through my purse for the flash drive, put flash drive in computer, wait for computer to recognize flash drive while getting my notes out, etc, etc. About the time that the computer indicated that all systems were go, I heard singing outside my classroom. Yes, singing.
My 6th floor classroom faces the relatively small concrete courtyard in the center of the Big City University campus. The courtyard is surrounded by multi-story buildings and has a dry fountain in the center - one of the many casualities of the drought. There are a few sad trees that try to green up the place, but overall, the buildings and dry fountain give the courtyard the feel of a prison exercise yard. Whenever I look down into the well from my classroom, I half expect to see Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins talking about hope. Instead, I see students milling about, trying to act like this concrete jungle isn't horribly depressing.
Apparently, one of them has discovered that the courtyard offers great acoustics. While I set up for my class, I heard, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..." Clear as a bell, a beautiful Sam Cook voice filtered into my classroom - 6 stories up. I thought, "That kid's got some pipes." My boring, dull students told me that the courtyard singer had been at it all afternoon. They weren't impressed, but then nothing impresses this group. I could walk in and set myself on fire and they'd just yawn and tell me how some other teacher set himself on fire earlier in the day and they were so over it.
The singer wrapped up his set and moved on just as I started class. I didn't give it any more thought, except at those random moments when I caught myself humming, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..."
Flash forward to yesterday: I was lecturing away in my late afternoon class, trying desparately to explain the stock market crash of 1929. I am not an economist and I don't want to be. I had a loose grasp on the basics of the crash and had successfully explained what I knew in 3 classes. Now, it was the 4th class and I just wanted to get done. As I walked through my explanation of "buying on margin," there he was again, the courtyard singer. "Day-o! Day-ay-ay-o! Daylight come and me want to go home." "Bastard!" I thought, but miraculously, did not say out loud.
My students also heard the song stylings emanating from the exercise yard and became highly distracted. I'm sure it was the singer, because what student wouldn't want to spend their afternoon talking about buying on margin and economic depression? Seriously. As the singer continued to insist that he wanted to go home, I said, "Yes, we all want to go home. Now, shut up!" My students laughed and we were back on track. Well, I had their attention again. My brain had shut down for the day. I was on auto pilot. Hoover - FDR - New Deal - blah, blah, blah.
I'm thinking of giving the courtyard singer a list of relevant songs for my class and have him provide background music for my lectures. Let's see - next up: World War II. Maybe he could do a rendition of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," or "Over There." When we talk about the women's movement of the 1970s, I'm sure he won't mind belting out, "I am woman, hear me roar." All from the prison exercise yard with the great acoustics.
My 6th floor classroom faces the relatively small concrete courtyard in the center of the Big City University campus. The courtyard is surrounded by multi-story buildings and has a dry fountain in the center - one of the many casualities of the drought. There are a few sad trees that try to green up the place, but overall, the buildings and dry fountain give the courtyard the feel of a prison exercise yard. Whenever I look down into the well from my classroom, I half expect to see Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins talking about hope. Instead, I see students milling about, trying to act like this concrete jungle isn't horribly depressing.
Apparently, one of them has discovered that the courtyard offers great acoustics. While I set up for my class, I heard, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..." Clear as a bell, a beautiful Sam Cook voice filtered into my classroom - 6 stories up. I thought, "That kid's got some pipes." My boring, dull students told me that the courtyard singer had been at it all afternoon. They weren't impressed, but then nothing impresses this group. I could walk in and set myself on fire and they'd just yawn and tell me how some other teacher set himself on fire earlier in the day and they were so over it.
The singer wrapped up his set and moved on just as I started class. I didn't give it any more thought, except at those random moments when I caught myself humming, "Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow..."
Flash forward to yesterday: I was lecturing away in my late afternoon class, trying desparately to explain the stock market crash of 1929. I am not an economist and I don't want to be. I had a loose grasp on the basics of the crash and had successfully explained what I knew in 3 classes. Now, it was the 4th class and I just wanted to get done. As I walked through my explanation of "buying on margin," there he was again, the courtyard singer. "Day-o! Day-ay-ay-o! Daylight come and me want to go home." "Bastard!" I thought, but miraculously, did not say out loud.
My students also heard the song stylings emanating from the exercise yard and became highly distracted. I'm sure it was the singer, because what student wouldn't want to spend their afternoon talking about buying on margin and economic depression? Seriously. As the singer continued to insist that he wanted to go home, I said, "Yes, we all want to go home. Now, shut up!" My students laughed and we were back on track. Well, I had their attention again. My brain had shut down for the day. I was on auto pilot. Hoover - FDR - New Deal - blah, blah, blah.
I'm thinking of giving the courtyard singer a list of relevant songs for my class and have him provide background music for my lectures. Let's see - next up: World War II. Maybe he could do a rendition of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," or "Over There." When we talk about the women's movement of the 1970s, I'm sure he won't mind belting out, "I am woman, hear me roar." All from the prison exercise yard with the great acoustics.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Train Wreck
Yesterday was one of those days. It was the kind of day that makes you wonder why you ever got out of bed. As far as I can tell, it all started the night before. After driving to and from the Big City to give a make-up exam, I returned home and got a late start on my lecture. For 5 hours, I struggled to pull the material together. I needed to cover antebellum reform and the Mexican-American War. After 5 hours, I decided to jetison the war. There's always the next class.
Turning my attention to antebellum reform, I stubbornly decided to revise my rather dry take on the anti-slavery movement. I decided to talk about African American abolitionists, and not just Frederick Douglass. Trouble is that I didn't have all the material I needed at my fingertips. At 10:30PM, I was still looking for the "perfect quote." I called a friend and babbled incoherently about being disorganized and unprepared. She advised me to call in "overwhelmed." I decided to keep trying to make my lecture work. By 11:30, I decided that life was too short. Exhausted and completely frazzled, I put the mess together as best I could and went to bed, not at all convinced that I was actually going to make it to work the next day.
At 6AM, I got up, determined to face the beast and get through the day. I went over my lecture, made some last minute changes, printed my copy of the powerpoint slides, and headed for the shower. Miracle of miracles, my hair actually looked halfway decent. I foolishly thought my luck was changing.
Before I left, I remembered that I needed to save my lecture to my jump drive. I dug though my purse - no jump drive. I emptied my purse - no jump drive. I repeated the procedure with my bookbag. No jump drive. Fortunately, everything on the drive is on my computer so I didn't "lose" any data. Fortunately, I have a back-up jump drive. I quickly saved my lecture and was out the door, hoping that my lost jump drive was in my last classroom of the day.
All was going relatively well. During the first 45 minutes of my 90-minute commute, I talked through some rough parts of my lecture, ironing out the transitions and explanations. I turned on to the interstate, drove about 5 miles and stopped. Stopped for a long time. Stopped long enough to discover that Big City radio stations have completely given up on traffic reports, especially for post rush hour wrecks on this "lesser" interstate. I sat long enough to discover that I was too exhausted to try to figure out an alternate route into town, and to discover that my cell phone was running out of juice and I didn't have the phone number for Big City University. I tried Information, asked for Big City University by name, and was connected to a phone that just rang and rang and rang. I pictured a lone phone in a soundproof room, sign on the door reads, "Gag phone for Information."
Increasingly exasperated as the minutes ticked by, I called a friend who found the real number for BCU. I successfully passed on the message and cancelled my first class. Then, as always happens, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and we were traveling at normal speeds again. I considered turning around and going home. I really did. In the end, I decided to persevere. Why deny the gods their opportunity to screw up the rest of my day? I arrived at BCU about 10 minutes before my class would have started. But, the die was cast and I was in no mental shape to lecture. I headed to my office to try to regroup. Nothing like feeling totally defeated at 10:50AM.
At the appointed time, I went to my second class which is in the same room as the first. Very reliable students were noticeably absent. I think they saw the cancellation sign on the door and assumed their class was cancelled as well. I decided to go forward when about 2/3 of them showed up.
I put in my jump drive, turned on the projector and launched into my lecture. About 3 slides in, I discovered that the lecture on the screen didn't match the lecture in my notes. Apparently, I'd saved an earlier version of the lecture to the jump drive. I tried to smooth over the problem, and realized that I'd just have to confess to the students that I was disorganized. I tried to make a joke of it: "Usually, it's you all who are surprised by the slides on the screen. Today, it's me. Let's see what's next..."
After class, I quickly got the slides in order and headed to my next class. As far as I can remember, it went smoothly. I don't think there were any major malfunctions in that class. Feeling a bit more confident, I headed to my last class. Got in the room, got my stuff out, and started searching for my lost jump drive. It was nowhere to be found. Fighting panic, I got out my purse to retrieve the back-up. It was also missing. I dug around furiously and it wasn't there. So, back up 2 flights of stairs to my other classroom where I found the damn thing still sticking out of the computer. Mark my words, from now on, I'm emailing my lecture notes to myself. No more jump drives - ever!!
The last class seemed to go smoothly. I made it through my lecture on antebellum reform, including some discussion about the temperance movement. After a long day, I made my way home. In one of my better ironic moments, I cracked open a bottle of red wine and toasted the temperance movement. I then proceeded to get drunk enough to forget the day. At 11:15PM, I headed to bed and passed out.
Today, I'm going to pick up the pieces, finish grading exams, and try to find enough gas to fill up my car.
Turning my attention to antebellum reform, I stubbornly decided to revise my rather dry take on the anti-slavery movement. I decided to talk about African American abolitionists, and not just Frederick Douglass. Trouble is that I didn't have all the material I needed at my fingertips. At 10:30PM, I was still looking for the "perfect quote." I called a friend and babbled incoherently about being disorganized and unprepared. She advised me to call in "overwhelmed." I decided to keep trying to make my lecture work. By 11:30, I decided that life was too short. Exhausted and completely frazzled, I put the mess together as best I could and went to bed, not at all convinced that I was actually going to make it to work the next day.
At 6AM, I got up, determined to face the beast and get through the day. I went over my lecture, made some last minute changes, printed my copy of the powerpoint slides, and headed for the shower. Miracle of miracles, my hair actually looked halfway decent. I foolishly thought my luck was changing.
Before I left, I remembered that I needed to save my lecture to my jump drive. I dug though my purse - no jump drive. I emptied my purse - no jump drive. I repeated the procedure with my bookbag. No jump drive. Fortunately, everything on the drive is on my computer so I didn't "lose" any data. Fortunately, I have a back-up jump drive. I quickly saved my lecture and was out the door, hoping that my lost jump drive was in my last classroom of the day.
All was going relatively well. During the first 45 minutes of my 90-minute commute, I talked through some rough parts of my lecture, ironing out the transitions and explanations. I turned on to the interstate, drove about 5 miles and stopped. Stopped for a long time. Stopped long enough to discover that Big City radio stations have completely given up on traffic reports, especially for post rush hour wrecks on this "lesser" interstate. I sat long enough to discover that I was too exhausted to try to figure out an alternate route into town, and to discover that my cell phone was running out of juice and I didn't have the phone number for Big City University. I tried Information, asked for Big City University by name, and was connected to a phone that just rang and rang and rang. I pictured a lone phone in a soundproof room, sign on the door reads, "Gag phone for Information."
Increasingly exasperated as the minutes ticked by, I called a friend who found the real number for BCU. I successfully passed on the message and cancelled my first class. Then, as always happens, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and we were traveling at normal speeds again. I considered turning around and going home. I really did. In the end, I decided to persevere. Why deny the gods their opportunity to screw up the rest of my day? I arrived at BCU about 10 minutes before my class would have started. But, the die was cast and I was in no mental shape to lecture. I headed to my office to try to regroup. Nothing like feeling totally defeated at 10:50AM.
At the appointed time, I went to my second class which is in the same room as the first. Very reliable students were noticeably absent. I think they saw the cancellation sign on the door and assumed their class was cancelled as well. I decided to go forward when about 2/3 of them showed up.
I put in my jump drive, turned on the projector and launched into my lecture. About 3 slides in, I discovered that the lecture on the screen didn't match the lecture in my notes. Apparently, I'd saved an earlier version of the lecture to the jump drive. I tried to smooth over the problem, and realized that I'd just have to confess to the students that I was disorganized. I tried to make a joke of it: "Usually, it's you all who are surprised by the slides on the screen. Today, it's me. Let's see what's next..."
After class, I quickly got the slides in order and headed to my next class. As far as I can remember, it went smoothly. I don't think there were any major malfunctions in that class. Feeling a bit more confident, I headed to my last class. Got in the room, got my stuff out, and started searching for my lost jump drive. It was nowhere to be found. Fighting panic, I got out my purse to retrieve the back-up. It was also missing. I dug around furiously and it wasn't there. So, back up 2 flights of stairs to my other classroom where I found the damn thing still sticking out of the computer. Mark my words, from now on, I'm emailing my lecture notes to myself. No more jump drives - ever!!
The last class seemed to go smoothly. I made it through my lecture on antebellum reform, including some discussion about the temperance movement. After a long day, I made my way home. In one of my better ironic moments, I cracked open a bottle of red wine and toasted the temperance movement. I then proceeded to get drunk enough to forget the day. At 11:15PM, I headed to bed and passed out.
Today, I'm going to pick up the pieces, finish grading exams, and try to find enough gas to fill up my car.
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.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
One Person's Bias...
The other day, the local paper headlined an article about a survey at the local university. According to the paper, the university contracted with the American Council of Trustees and Alumni to conduct a survey of intellectual diversity in classrooms. ACTA is a "nonpartisan organization that agitates for intellectual diversity in the classroom." ACTA sent a web-based survey to 14,820 students last spring. 1220 bothered to respond.
What did they want to know? Well, they wanted to find out if "professors have sometimes inappropriately presented their political or religious views in class," or if students felt that they "personally had a class where they felt they had to agree with the professor's views to get a good grade." According to the results, approximately 25% of the respondents felt like they had to agree with a professor to get a good grade. Only 13% felt like their professors inappropriately presented their own views in class.
According to the paper, the university asked ACTA to conduct the survey "in part [in] response to persistent fears among Republican lawmakers that college professors are aggressively pushing their liberal views on students, trying to reach impressionable young adults and change their minds." Apparently, these lawmakers believe that I and my peers have a lot more power and influence than we actually have. Brainwashing young adults would require that the young adults pay attention and listen. Tall order in today's classrooms.
Getting past the obvious problems with methodology (opt-in web survey, poor response rate, those with a problem more likely to respond), I feel the need to get a few things off my chest. Here's the thing: I personally guard against presenting my own views in class. I'm pretty sure that my students can guess which side of the fence I'm on, but in class, I try to take the Daily Show approach and pick on everyone equally. I keep my political bumper stickers in my home office. I try to encourage class discussion where students respect each other's opinions, even if they disagree. And, I try to give assignments where students are free to formulate an argument of their choosing. Their grade depends on their ability to support that argument with relevant and credible evidence.
After reading this article, I'm pretty sure that I'd be accused of liberal bias in the classroom. Because, the thing is, if you're looking for bias, you'll find it. For some, the very mention of African American history, women's history, Native American history, and the history of other minority groups smacks of liberalism. To suggest that dead white guys weren't geniouses who came up with brilliant reforms out of thin air can be seen as blasphemy. In my classes, I don't discount the accomplishments of important generals, politicians, and statesmen, but I also try to present a more complicated picture where those fellows exist in a larger world. Is this unacceptable liberal bias? Perhaps to some.
Most of all, I want students to think. Not to think like me, but to engage with questions of race, gender, ethnicity, and class. I also try to show that even within those categories, there's a continuum that runs from liberal to conservative - and that those definitions change over time.
One last point about the student who feels punished for disagreeing with their professor. I will freely admit that there are some cases where professors fail students who don't agree with them. We had a notorious case in the northeastern post-industrial wasteland. But, there's another side to this issue. Sometimes, in my experience, students don't know what they think and they're not necessarily willing to take the time to figure it out. So, they simply agree with me because they think that's what I want. Would these students say that they felt pressured to agree with me? I don't know. I would hope not.
OK, one more point. Some things are not conservative or liberal, they're just plain wrong. For example, if a student argues that European imperialism was a 100% positive experience for native peoples in Africa, North America, and South America, well, I'm going to challenge that position, even if the student presents evidence. I don't think the student's position is either conservative or liberal, it's just ignorant, simplistic, and offensive. However, the student could perceive that my insistence on a more complex analysis is too liberal.
So, I guess my final point is that without finding out more about the respondents' experience, this survey doesn't say much. But, maybe I'm just biased.
What did they want to know? Well, they wanted to find out if "professors have sometimes inappropriately presented their political or religious views in class," or if students felt that they "personally had a class where they felt they had to agree with the professor's views to get a good grade." According to the results, approximately 25% of the respondents felt like they had to agree with a professor to get a good grade. Only 13% felt like their professors inappropriately presented their own views in class.
According to the paper, the university asked ACTA to conduct the survey "in part [in] response to persistent fears among Republican lawmakers that college professors are aggressively pushing their liberal views on students, trying to reach impressionable young adults and change their minds." Apparently, these lawmakers believe that I and my peers have a lot more power and influence than we actually have. Brainwashing young adults would require that the young adults pay attention and listen. Tall order in today's classrooms.
Getting past the obvious problems with methodology (opt-in web survey, poor response rate, those with a problem more likely to respond), I feel the need to get a few things off my chest. Here's the thing: I personally guard against presenting my own views in class. I'm pretty sure that my students can guess which side of the fence I'm on, but in class, I try to take the Daily Show approach and pick on everyone equally. I keep my political bumper stickers in my home office. I try to encourage class discussion where students respect each other's opinions, even if they disagree. And, I try to give assignments where students are free to formulate an argument of their choosing. Their grade depends on their ability to support that argument with relevant and credible evidence.
After reading this article, I'm pretty sure that I'd be accused of liberal bias in the classroom. Because, the thing is, if you're looking for bias, you'll find it. For some, the very mention of African American history, women's history, Native American history, and the history of other minority groups smacks of liberalism. To suggest that dead white guys weren't geniouses who came up with brilliant reforms out of thin air can be seen as blasphemy. In my classes, I don't discount the accomplishments of important generals, politicians, and statesmen, but I also try to present a more complicated picture where those fellows exist in a larger world. Is this unacceptable liberal bias? Perhaps to some.
Most of all, I want students to think. Not to think like me, but to engage with questions of race, gender, ethnicity, and class. I also try to show that even within those categories, there's a continuum that runs from liberal to conservative - and that those definitions change over time.
One last point about the student who feels punished for disagreeing with their professor. I will freely admit that there are some cases where professors fail students who don't agree with them. We had a notorious case in the northeastern post-industrial wasteland. But, there's another side to this issue. Sometimes, in my experience, students don't know what they think and they're not necessarily willing to take the time to figure it out. So, they simply agree with me because they think that's what I want. Would these students say that they felt pressured to agree with me? I don't know. I would hope not.
OK, one more point. Some things are not conservative or liberal, they're just plain wrong. For example, if a student argues that European imperialism was a 100% positive experience for native peoples in Africa, North America, and South America, well, I'm going to challenge that position, even if the student presents evidence. I don't think the student's position is either conservative or liberal, it's just ignorant, simplistic, and offensive. However, the student could perceive that my insistence on a more complex analysis is too liberal.
So, I guess my final point is that without finding out more about the respondents' experience, this survey doesn't say much. But, maybe I'm just biased.
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Last Day and a Half
It all started when I couldn't make chili because I'd forgotten to thaw the ground beef. OK, it probably started when I put the ground beef in the freezer. Two days ago, I planned to make chili, figuring I'd have it for dinner, and could easily reheat it when I got home from class the next night. All went according to plan, until 4:45 when I realized that I hadn't thawed the meat. So, I went to Plan B - rehash the previous night's dinner and figure something out the next day.
The next day dawned. At least, I think it did. It was really foggy all day so it's hard to tell if the sun ever made an appearance. I'd planned to write for a while, then head out to meet my aunt and uncle for lunch before heading to school. The writing went relatively well - mostly footnotes, but hey, it's words on a page.
The lunch date was a drop point for the Christmas sausage that my mother sent to her brother. I was the mule. No, I did not use tried and true drug smuggling techniques to transport the sausage. Instead, I put it in a cooler on ice. I consider it a minor miracle that I remembered the sausage at all. I had to drive over an hour to meet them at 1:00. I figured I'd leave at 11:45. So, I got in the shower at 10:00 and was out the door at 10:45. About halfway there, I thought, "I should check the time to make sure I'm not late." It was then that I realized that I was on track to arrive at noon, not 1:00. "Crap," I thought. I arrived right on time, if we'd agreed to meet at noon.
So, I went to the loudest Starbucks in the world and reviewed my lecture notes. I made my way to the restaurant and waited. And waited. Then, I got my lunch and waited some more. At 1:45, I decided they weren't coming. I thought, "Well, it's their sausage" - which, honestly, is the first time I've ever had that particular thought. I called and they'd forgotten. We planned to meet for dinner. I told them that if they didn't show up, I and their sausage were heading home (again, the first time I'd ever uttered that sentence.)
I went to school, arriving early to resolve some technical issues. I'd promised to post powerpoint slides for my students, and I did. I spent 3 hours figuring out how to post them on the university's file sharing system that I can access from my home computer. Turns out, none of the students use that file sharing system. Instead, they use the file sharing system that only works on campus - the campus that is over an hour from my house. Nothing is ever easy, I thought.
So, none of my students had the lecture notes. Probably just as well because it was by far, bar none the dullest, most boring lecture ever. Turns out, if you pull your lecture from boring textbooks, you end up with a boring lecture. I put more than one student to sleep. Some of them perked up when I injected some discussion, but overall, it was dismal. Almost as dismal as the pea-soup fog outside. I had 45 minutes between classes - not long enough to rework the lesson so I just had to sit in utter agony, waiting for the opportunity to be boring and dull again.
I'd planned to go to my office in between classes. The office was locked and I don't know the combination to get in. My shoes really hurt my feet by this point and my hair was doing increasingly strange and wondrous things in the overwhelming humidity.
I trudged back to the office, called a friend who assured me that the lecture couldn't have been that bad, and waited for time to pass. The next class went much the same as the first, except that students asked questions that I couldn't answer. Always a good way to start the semester. I'm choosing to see this as a test of my ability to sling bs. By the end of the semester, I plan to achieve full monkey status. At the end of class, one of the students asked if I was going to post my lecture notes, as well as the powerpoint slides. Before I could stop myself, I said, "What do you want from me?" Seriously. If I post all of that material, why would I bother coming to class?
After lecture, with horribly aching feet and frizzy hair, I met my aunt, uncle, and cousins for dinner. It was good to see them, but I just wanted to go home. We finished, I gave them the sausage, and I headed home in the fog. I walked in the door, took off my shoes, and sat like a zombie on the couch.
Today, I'm making chili. I'm sure this will reverse my fortunes and get me back on the right track.
The next day dawned. At least, I think it did. It was really foggy all day so it's hard to tell if the sun ever made an appearance. I'd planned to write for a while, then head out to meet my aunt and uncle for lunch before heading to school. The writing went relatively well - mostly footnotes, but hey, it's words on a page.
The lunch date was a drop point for the Christmas sausage that my mother sent to her brother. I was the mule. No, I did not use tried and true drug smuggling techniques to transport the sausage. Instead, I put it in a cooler on ice. I consider it a minor miracle that I remembered the sausage at all. I had to drive over an hour to meet them at 1:00. I figured I'd leave at 11:45. So, I got in the shower at 10:00 and was out the door at 10:45. About halfway there, I thought, "I should check the time to make sure I'm not late." It was then that I realized that I was on track to arrive at noon, not 1:00. "Crap," I thought. I arrived right on time, if we'd agreed to meet at noon.
So, I went to the loudest Starbucks in the world and reviewed my lecture notes. I made my way to the restaurant and waited. And waited. Then, I got my lunch and waited some more. At 1:45, I decided they weren't coming. I thought, "Well, it's their sausage" - which, honestly, is the first time I've ever had that particular thought. I called and they'd forgotten. We planned to meet for dinner. I told them that if they didn't show up, I and their sausage were heading home (again, the first time I'd ever uttered that sentence.)
I went to school, arriving early to resolve some technical issues. I'd promised to post powerpoint slides for my students, and I did. I spent 3 hours figuring out how to post them on the university's file sharing system that I can access from my home computer. Turns out, none of the students use that file sharing system. Instead, they use the file sharing system that only works on campus - the campus that is over an hour from my house. Nothing is ever easy, I thought.
So, none of my students had the lecture notes. Probably just as well because it was by far, bar none the dullest, most boring lecture ever. Turns out, if you pull your lecture from boring textbooks, you end up with a boring lecture. I put more than one student to sleep. Some of them perked up when I injected some discussion, but overall, it was dismal. Almost as dismal as the pea-soup fog outside. I had 45 minutes between classes - not long enough to rework the lesson so I just had to sit in utter agony, waiting for the opportunity to be boring and dull again.
I'd planned to go to my office in between classes. The office was locked and I don't know the combination to get in. My shoes really hurt my feet by this point and my hair was doing increasingly strange and wondrous things in the overwhelming humidity.
I trudged back to the office, called a friend who assured me that the lecture couldn't have been that bad, and waited for time to pass. The next class went much the same as the first, except that students asked questions that I couldn't answer. Always a good way to start the semester. I'm choosing to see this as a test of my ability to sling bs. By the end of the semester, I plan to achieve full monkey status. At the end of class, one of the students asked if I was going to post my lecture notes, as well as the powerpoint slides. Before I could stop myself, I said, "What do you want from me?" Seriously. If I post all of that material, why would I bother coming to class?
After lecture, with horribly aching feet and frizzy hair, I met my aunt, uncle, and cousins for dinner. It was good to see them, but I just wanted to go home. We finished, I gave them the sausage, and I headed home in the fog. I walked in the door, took off my shoes, and sat like a zombie on the couch.
Today, I'm making chili. I'm sure this will reverse my fortunes and get me back on the right track.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
First Day as Under-Paid Adjunct
Here's my horoscope from yesterday:
You have wanted to play a much more active role in an involvement you have had little to say about - the time to speak up is now. You will be given an opportunity to exercise your will and show your stuff.
Seemed quite appropriate for my first day as a part-time instructor at a nearby commuter college. The day went fine, much smoother than I expected. I exercised some will, but stopped short of showing my stuff. I successfully got a new ID with an equally bad picture, figured out how to check email and learned about a very time consuming assessment that I have to force my students to do, and found my office that I share with up to 10 other part-time instructors.
Very few surprises in class. Since it was the first day, I decided to review the syllabus and let my students go. They didn't protest. I asked each student to share his or her favorite historical figure. Turns out, a lot of my southern students are Abraham Lincoln fans. My, my, how times change. One shared that he thinks Vladimir Lenin is the bomb. I had to squelch his enthusiasm when I explained that we wouldn't discuss Lenin (Vladimir or John) in this early US History class. Now, I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to work in something about Communism. Maybe I could convince them that Abraham Lincoln was a Communist.
By the end of the 2 sections, I hadn't identified my favorite student, but I think I've identified my least favorite. She approached me after class and seemed to take my reading assignments as a personal affront. As she explained, she's taking a professional exam in 4 months and just won't have a lot of time to do reading for my class, and could she do well in the class if she didn't do any reading? I said, "No." I almost said, "Look, sister, I'm finishing and defending my dissertation this semester, and I have to write and deliver lectures, find a more permanent job, and do all the reading for this class, so don't tell me how little time you have to read."
She left in a huff, after asking if she could take an exam to exempt out of the course. I said she'd have to talk to the department chair or the registrar. I'm still not sure what she expected me to say. "Oh, those reading assignments are just for show. I don't really expect you to do any of them. And, just skip all the writing assignments and discussion that come straight from the reading. I'll go ahead and give you an A on those, since you have so much work to do."
I feel certain that this experience will provide many new blogging opportunities.
You have wanted to play a much more active role in an involvement you have had little to say about - the time to speak up is now. You will be given an opportunity to exercise your will and show your stuff.
Seemed quite appropriate for my first day as a part-time instructor at a nearby commuter college. The day went fine, much smoother than I expected. I exercised some will, but stopped short of showing my stuff. I successfully got a new ID with an equally bad picture, figured out how to check email and learned about a very time consuming assessment that I have to force my students to do, and found my office that I share with up to 10 other part-time instructors.
Very few surprises in class. Since it was the first day, I decided to review the syllabus and let my students go. They didn't protest. I asked each student to share his or her favorite historical figure. Turns out, a lot of my southern students are Abraham Lincoln fans. My, my, how times change. One shared that he thinks Vladimir Lenin is the bomb. I had to squelch his enthusiasm when I explained that we wouldn't discuss Lenin (Vladimir or John) in this early US History class. Now, I'm trying to figure out if there's a way to work in something about Communism. Maybe I could convince them that Abraham Lincoln was a Communist.
By the end of the 2 sections, I hadn't identified my favorite student, but I think I've identified my least favorite. She approached me after class and seemed to take my reading assignments as a personal affront. As she explained, she's taking a professional exam in 4 months and just won't have a lot of time to do reading for my class, and could she do well in the class if she didn't do any reading? I said, "No." I almost said, "Look, sister, I'm finishing and defending my dissertation this semester, and I have to write and deliver lectures, find a more permanent job, and do all the reading for this class, so don't tell me how little time you have to read."
She left in a huff, after asking if she could take an exam to exempt out of the course. I said she'd have to talk to the department chair or the registrar. I'm still not sure what she expected me to say. "Oh, those reading assignments are just for show. I don't really expect you to do any of them. And, just skip all the writing assignments and discussion that come straight from the reading. I'll go ahead and give you an A on those, since you have so much work to do."
I feel certain that this experience will provide many new blogging opportunities.
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