It is the second week of classes. Funny how much it feels as though we are much farther into the semester than just two weeks. I guess it's easy to get back into this routine. Well, hell, I've been in school longer than I haven't by now, so I suppose it ought to feel fairly familiar, even though I'm on the other side of the desk.
My creative writing class is more fun than any number of adjectives I could use to describe it to you. It is wonderful to teach students so interested in learning. My 1102 class is also quite good; they are more willing than most composition classes I have taught to engage in class discussion. I'm not sure why this is, and it puzzles me because last spring (2009), I taught in the same classroom I'm teaching in now. That class was one of the least responsive I have ever taught. I thought that this was due in large part to the way the classroom is set up.
It's a computer classroom with attached desks arranged so that two people sit facing me and two sit facing away; a square cut into four parts. This works well mostly, except for the students in the back who face me, but who also face computer screens that I can't see unless I hike back there and peer around their desks to find out what they are looking at (or who they are friending on Facebook).
So last year when my class wouldn't talk, when I had to basically beg them to discuss, I blamed the room. The unfettered access to Facebook. My inability to monitor them. The fact that half the class was facing away from me.
But, apparently this was not the case. Because my comp kids this semester do not suffer the same room related malaise. This is fantastic, but it also makes me realize how much the composition of a particular class affects how and how much students learn and interact. A quiet, distracted bunch will encourage each other to remain quiet and distracted. A loud, passionate group will also affect (and infect? Like with passion? Is passion communicable? I'm arguing yes, I suppose) each other. Huh.
I guess I knew this, but it still seems strange to me. Next up for mediation: how classroom dynamics are changed by putting everyone in a circle. Sounds exciting, right?
As a brief note, the soup I made was quite okay. It was even quite possibly good. Thank you for your interest in my culinary (lack of) skill. Also, Bobby is better. I think he got better, ps, by infecting me with his cold.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Trying to make a soup
School begins on Monday. Well, it technically begins this Saturday, but happily I am teaching no Saturday classes. As such, today is my last weekday off. Bobby is working, and I am home alone, trying to make a soup.
I say trying to make a soup instead of just making a soup because I am not a good cook, for one, and for reason the second, I've been having issues with said soup. The first, and most pernicious, issue I've been having is that I don't know how to cook. Okay, so I looked up recipes online. The difficulty with this is that I did not find one that I liked, I found several, so this leads me to issue number two I'm having, which is that I'm combining several different recipes, oh! And the third? I'm using different amounts of ingredients than any of the recipes call for. Plus I added too much cayenne.
Okay. So, now you see my struggle with the soup? It's been interesting. It smells good, and I think it's possible that it tastes good, but I'm not sure. I've tasted it too many times to be able to tell.
I need to make this soup because Bobby is sick. I also want to make the soup to prove to Bobby that I can make the soup (there has lately been some questioning of my soup making abilities). Another reason I'm making the soup (today is a day of lists of reasons, apparently) is that it's my last real day off, like I said, and making soup is so opposite teaching that it seemed appropriate. It is also something that I would not have even been able to conceive of doing ten years ago.
Ah, yes, here we come to the drive of this blog for today. It's tiny, pulsing heart, if you will. Never, ever did I expect to be where I am today ten years ago. To be completely frank, I was an entirely different person then. And I think (this is actually something I've thought about a lot, so it's probably more true than you might believe) that if I had been going for my life right now as a goal ten years ago, I would have failed and failed and failed.
What I mean is, if I had had this career and life in mind, I would not have been able to achieve it. Ten years ago I would have totally messed up my chances for it, somehow; this is the kind of girl I was. I'm happy to say that I have morphed or changed or perhaps transformed into someone who isn't constantly shooting herself in her own feet, tripping over her own idealism, and generally working on failing at life. That sounds harsh, maybe, but I think a lot of people go through that phase.
In fact, I see it in my kids all the time. Really smart young people who seem to do everything in their power to fail. I've even talked to them about it before. But then, I think when someone is at that place in life, there is really no talking them out of it. They have to want to change.
So, for what it's worth, my soup (whether it actually tastes good or not, I'm just working on actually getting the soup finished here) is evidence of my own butterflyness or however you would rather imagine this whole transformational thing that happens to people, and which has happily happened to me.
I say trying to make a soup instead of just making a soup because I am not a good cook, for one, and for reason the second, I've been having issues with said soup. The first, and most pernicious, issue I've been having is that I don't know how to cook. Okay, so I looked up recipes online. The difficulty with this is that I did not find one that I liked, I found several, so this leads me to issue number two I'm having, which is that I'm combining several different recipes, oh! And the third? I'm using different amounts of ingredients than any of the recipes call for. Plus I added too much cayenne.
Okay. So, now you see my struggle with the soup? It's been interesting. It smells good, and I think it's possible that it tastes good, but I'm not sure. I've tasted it too many times to be able to tell.
I need to make this soup because Bobby is sick. I also want to make the soup to prove to Bobby that I can make the soup (there has lately been some questioning of my soup making abilities). Another reason I'm making the soup (today is a day of lists of reasons, apparently) is that it's my last real day off, like I said, and making soup is so opposite teaching that it seemed appropriate. It is also something that I would not have even been able to conceive of doing ten years ago.
Ah, yes, here we come to the drive of this blog for today. It's tiny, pulsing heart, if you will. Never, ever did I expect to be where I am today ten years ago. To be completely frank, I was an entirely different person then. And I think (this is actually something I've thought about a lot, so it's probably more true than you might believe) that if I had been going for my life right now as a goal ten years ago, I would have failed and failed and failed.
What I mean is, if I had had this career and life in mind, I would not have been able to achieve it. Ten years ago I would have totally messed up my chances for it, somehow; this is the kind of girl I was. I'm happy to say that I have morphed or changed or perhaps transformed into someone who isn't constantly shooting herself in her own feet, tripping over her own idealism, and generally working on failing at life. That sounds harsh, maybe, but I think a lot of people go through that phase.
In fact, I see it in my kids all the time. Really smart young people who seem to do everything in their power to fail. I've even talked to them about it before. But then, I think when someone is at that place in life, there is really no talking them out of it. They have to want to change.
So, for what it's worth, my soup (whether it actually tastes good or not, I'm just working on actually getting the soup finished here) is evidence of my own butterflyness or however you would rather imagine this whole transformational thing that happens to people, and which has happily happened to me.
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