Oooooh this semester! Quelle suprise, quelle horror, quelle....
Am I even using the correct form of quel? Oh well. Hey, listen! This semester is nearly over. Very quite nearly. It's close, okay? Final grades are due 12/14.
This is both good and bad. I have loved this semester and my kids very much, but it has been a lot of work. Grading 75 papers just about every other week has been something else.
I'm not complaining though. I love this job and I'm lucky to have it. A job I have that I'm not happy about? Being my parent's computer guy sometimes. I was just on the phone with them, trying to help them upload a picture or something. That kind of stuff, especially over the phone, with the added soothing quality of our neighbors' hammering and hammering and hammering, can make one despise computers. I'm talking the deep seated urge to throw all computers within reach into the walls, windows, or to the tile. Dash their motherboards to pieces.
Grading sometimes inspires the same feeling, however not as often. The kids are endearing in ways computers fall short of, somehow.
I'm looking forward to winter break. I need to plan for my classes next semester, read more books, and write. I have fallen incredibly short of my writing goals this semester. For which, I think, I can give myself a pass (adjusting to teaching new classes, taking on the extra class), but that seems a bit dangerous as making excuses seems to lead one to making more excuses. Snowballing excuses.
A lot like the kids as well, really. I think I could relate nearly everything in my life right now to some situation in one of my classes, or to particular students. They have the strangest and most interesting excuses for everything. Sometimes they are late, absent, or don't have a paper for mundane reasons, but other times they are brilliant. Simply brilliant.
Example one: I open a student's paper (they turn everything in online) and find they (I'm being grammatically awkward to preserve anonymity) have changed the font to symbols and numbers. I know that there is no way this would happen except on purpose (or that they at least must know the paper "is corrupted"). They think I know nothing about computers.
Example two: "I'm sorry, Ms Sheffield, but I don't have my paper because I have my sister's laptop? And it has a really bad battery? Like the battery doesn't work and I was working on my paper and the cord got unplugged and I lost everything that I was working on except for what I sent you earlier."
Example three: Attached to this email, please find my doctor's note excusing me from class today.
Really? Do they do that now?
Anyway, that is just a sampling. They totally know when I don't believe them and then they get all defensive. It's kind of cute.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Midway
I just collected an orphaned class of ENC 1101. My kids lost their teacher due to a medical issue. Now they have me.
And apparently it's a good thing they do. They were only on their first paper (it's half way through the semester!) and hadn't yet received a grade.
Well, they hadn't received a grade until yesterday when I sent them back their papers with my comments. Things are going to be quite different for them from now on.
For example, they'll have to have a paper due every week in order for us to catch up. Our class is going to be a lot more like a summer session class than I'd like. And I have to pretty much instantaneously learn 22 more names. I now have a total of 75 kids. 75.
I love how different they all are. Within each class and when compared to each other, each student has an entirely unique personality (oh man, am I going to counter to my own special snowflake argument?), but at the same time, they have similar attitudes, ways of communicating, and perceptions. For instance, I can tell when I'm reading a paper about what grade level the student is. Most freshman write an awkward version of what they believe to be academic sounding language. Usually by sophomore or junior year (hopefully by their senior year at least), they have either fully adopted academic language, or have moved beyond academic language altogether and into something really authentic (their own voice).
The difference in age and maturity between 1101 and lit classes is really interesting. ENC 1101 kids are softer, more like actual kids. My lit kids have been through this before. They have expectations about me and their class. The 1101 kids, well, they still have the blush of high school.
It's sweet, but it can be frustrating to work with them. They have more trouble seeing the worth of complications in arguments. They mostly prefer absolutes. But then, I know many adults who feel the same way.
I brought the 1101 kids candy the other day. I mostly brought it because their old teacher had kept promising and then forgetting to bring it in, and I wanted them to know that I'm not like that. That I'm totally committed to them. That I'm thinking about them and want them to succeed.
But I also brought them candy because they are kids. And I'd forgotten how much so freshman are.
And apparently it's a good thing they do. They were only on their first paper (it's half way through the semester!) and hadn't yet received a grade.
Well, they hadn't received a grade until yesterday when I sent them back their papers with my comments. Things are going to be quite different for them from now on.
For example, they'll have to have a paper due every week in order for us to catch up. Our class is going to be a lot more like a summer session class than I'd like. And I have to pretty much instantaneously learn 22 more names. I now have a total of 75 kids. 75.
I love how different they all are. Within each class and when compared to each other, each student has an entirely unique personality (oh man, am I going to counter to my own special snowflake argument?), but at the same time, they have similar attitudes, ways of communicating, and perceptions. For instance, I can tell when I'm reading a paper about what grade level the student is. Most freshman write an awkward version of what they believe to be academic sounding language. Usually by sophomore or junior year (hopefully by their senior year at least), they have either fully adopted academic language, or have moved beyond academic language altogether and into something really authentic (their own voice).
The difference in age and maturity between 1101 and lit classes is really interesting. ENC 1101 kids are softer, more like actual kids. My lit kids have been through this before. They have expectations about me and their class. The 1101 kids, well, they still have the blush of high school.
It's sweet, but it can be frustrating to work with them. They have more trouble seeing the worth of complications in arguments. They mostly prefer absolutes. But then, I know many adults who feel the same way.
I brought the 1101 kids candy the other day. I mostly brought it because their old teacher had kept promising and then forgetting to bring it in, and I wanted them to know that I'm not like that. That I'm totally committed to them. That I'm thinking about them and want them to succeed.
But I also brought them candy because they are kids. And I'd forgotten how much so freshman are.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Pluots in space
I wanted to start off with a psa about a really great organization which distributes organic vegetables within South Florida. It's not too expensive, and the variety is great. Here, have a Web site: http://www.anniesbuyingclub.com/
We just started getting it every other week. The best part is figuring out what to do with ingredients we've never cooked before (I say we, but really you know I mean Bobby).
All the vegetables must be helping my brain because teaching has been going wonderfully so far. I think the kids are really into reading the stories. It's such a difference after teaching Composition.
Now this isn't to say I dislike teaching Comp, actually I quite enjoy it. It's interesting and challenging and rewarding watching students learn how to write and find their own voices. But I must say, fiction is a lot of fun. We have debates. It's easier to get them to talk. They seem to care about what we're reading.
The two classes have ended up having two quite separate dynamics. My technology class is quiet, it can be more work to get them to speak (although I can usually accomplish this; it involves a lot of jokes and moving around. I find that if I stand in the same place, they get bored). The other class, the late in the day, dingy classroom class, is far more passionate and talkative.
I know that there are many factors which contribute to their behavior. Sure, technology is an issue, but then so is the class time, the student population in the class, and my own energy level.
This is actually the first time I've taught more than one class at a time, and I have to say I'm really enjoying it. I feel like I learn more and teach better.
The silly thing about the organic vegetable buying club thing, if you'll allow me to spin back to where I started, is that we just got a half share on Tuesday. Do you know what that means? It means we have to move with all these vegetables. I like to picture a U-Haul full of them, broccolini and asparagus rolling around and around the pints of strawberries and pluots (no joke, the Frankensteinian plum/apricot is delicious).
I think, and someone else mentioned this to me, that the key here, the solution to my moving troubles, is to get my kids to do it. That's, like, 50 people! Imagine the breath-taking speed. Vegetables flying into boxes, boxes flying onto U-Hauls, pianos zipping through the air....
It is a beautiful dream, isn't it?
We just started getting it every other week. The best part is figuring out what to do with ingredients we've never cooked before (I say we, but really you know I mean Bobby).
All the vegetables must be helping my brain because teaching has been going wonderfully so far. I think the kids are really into reading the stories. It's such a difference after teaching Composition.
Now this isn't to say I dislike teaching Comp, actually I quite enjoy it. It's interesting and challenging and rewarding watching students learn how to write and find their own voices. But I must say, fiction is a lot of fun. We have debates. It's easier to get them to talk. They seem to care about what we're reading.
The two classes have ended up having two quite separate dynamics. My technology class is quiet, it can be more work to get them to speak (although I can usually accomplish this; it involves a lot of jokes and moving around. I find that if I stand in the same place, they get bored). The other class, the late in the day, dingy classroom class, is far more passionate and talkative.
I know that there are many factors which contribute to their behavior. Sure, technology is an issue, but then so is the class time, the student population in the class, and my own energy level.
This is actually the first time I've taught more than one class at a time, and I have to say I'm really enjoying it. I feel like I learn more and teach better.
The silly thing about the organic vegetable buying club thing, if you'll allow me to spin back to where I started, is that we just got a half share on Tuesday. Do you know what that means? It means we have to move with all these vegetables. I like to picture a U-Haul full of them, broccolini and asparagus rolling around and around the pints of strawberries and pluots (no joke, the Frankensteinian plum/apricot is delicious).
I think, and someone else mentioned this to me, that the key here, the solution to my moving troubles, is to get my kids to do it. That's, like, 50 people! Imagine the breath-taking speed. Vegetables flying into boxes, boxes flying onto U-Hauls, pianos zipping through the air....
It is a beautiful dream, isn't it?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Running just as fast as we can
We found a new place to live. Maybe I didn't mention that we're moving, but we are. It's just about a mile south, but it's oh-so-nice to have everything set in stone.
What is not, however, oh-so-nice, is moving in the middle of the semester. I've done it before and so I know. I know I know I know how difficult it will be. Moving is, as I'm sure we all know (although most would probably rather not), one of the absolute worst things a person can do. No one should ever move. It is a terrible, terrible affair.
Plus I have a piano.
Anyway, so I need to be extra special organized this semester. The kids seems to be doing well so far, but I think I'm going to have to give them more quizzes. One kid admitted today that he didn't read the story. I called on him in the first place because he was sitting with his head resting on his hands, nearly asleep. "What do you think about this?" I asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to read the story," the student said.
So I continued, trying to appear unfazed. At least the kid was honest, right? After the lecture I informed them they'd be having a reading quiz next class. A good move, I think, but I hate to do it. It seems so high school.
Then again, this is a 2000 level course. Probably this is to be expected.
What is not, however, oh-so-nice, is moving in the middle of the semester. I've done it before and so I know. I know I know I know how difficult it will be. Moving is, as I'm sure we all know (although most would probably rather not), one of the absolute worst things a person can do. No one should ever move. It is a terrible, terrible affair.
Plus I have a piano.
Anyway, so I need to be extra special organized this semester. The kids seems to be doing well so far, but I think I'm going to have to give them more quizzes. One kid admitted today that he didn't read the story. I called on him in the first place because he was sitting with his head resting on his hands, nearly asleep. "What do you think about this?" I asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to read the story," the student said.
So I continued, trying to appear unfazed. At least the kid was honest, right? After the lecture I informed them they'd be having a reading quiz next class. A good move, I think, but I hate to do it. It seems so high school.
Then again, this is a 2000 level course. Probably this is to be expected.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The fiction of fiction
I've had my kids read two short stories which are accompanied by interviews with the authors in which the authors say, basically, that people read too much into their stories.
One of my classes, the technologically advanced one, ps, is okay with this. I've stressed to them that authors are people, and that unless they are super-brilliant-geniuses, there is no way they could have planned every theme and metaphor.
The other class, the one which has actually turned out to be more talkative and involved, was less impressed with these authors' statements. "Why do we do this then?" A student asked me. "It's a waste of time, none of this is real. We're reading too much into it."
We got into a discussion of literature and the nature of literary endeavors, but I'm not sure I've convinced them. This one student in particular seems to feel quite disenfranchised with literature at the moment.
I've been trying to think of other ways of approaching this problem. Other ways of getting to the students. I want them to see the authors as people, for sure. I think it's important to look beyond the idols we have made of authors and see that at heart we are more alike than different. Kind of like my special snowflake rant.
Although, of course, brilliant genius authors exist. I just don't think students should be taught to blindly venerate them. I want to have them question authority, literature, the cannon... But perhaps this is too radical a challenge for people new to literature. Maybe the questions should be reserved for people who are really steeped in the academic culture. These are sophomores, mostly, and many of them definitely are not readers.
However, I somehow just can't stomach the idea that I shouldn't challenge them because they are, in the parlance of our times, newbs. I want to pull down curtains and all that. And I want them to come to love literature despite its origins. Or perhaps more honestly, I want them to love literature because of its origins. I feel as though if I can take literature down to them, to the level of real-human-people-like-us, then they might in the end feel its force all the more powerfully.
A girl can dream, right?
One of my classes, the technologically advanced one, ps, is okay with this. I've stressed to them that authors are people, and that unless they are super-brilliant-geniuses, there is no way they could have planned every theme and metaphor.
The other class, the one which has actually turned out to be more talkative and involved, was less impressed with these authors' statements. "Why do we do this then?" A student asked me. "It's a waste of time, none of this is real. We're reading too much into it."
We got into a discussion of literature and the nature of literary endeavors, but I'm not sure I've convinced them. This one student in particular seems to feel quite disenfranchised with literature at the moment.
I've been trying to think of other ways of approaching this problem. Other ways of getting to the students. I want them to see the authors as people, for sure. I think it's important to look beyond the idols we have made of authors and see that at heart we are more alike than different. Kind of like my special snowflake rant.
Although, of course, brilliant genius authors exist. I just don't think students should be taught to blindly venerate them. I want to have them question authority, literature, the cannon... But perhaps this is too radical a challenge for people new to literature. Maybe the questions should be reserved for people who are really steeped in the academic culture. These are sophomores, mostly, and many of them definitely are not readers.
However, I somehow just can't stomach the idea that I shouldn't challenge them because they are, in the parlance of our times, newbs. I want to pull down curtains and all that. And I want them to come to love literature despite its origins. Or perhaps more honestly, I want them to love literature because of its origins. I feel as though if I can take literature down to them, to the level of real-human-people-like-us, then they might in the end feel its force all the more powerfully.
A girl can dream, right?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
First week
Today I will meet my second class. Yesterday's class went well; we went over the syllabus and course expectations. I tried to make them laugh.
I teach one of my classes in the most technologically advanced classrooms I've ever seen. It's amazing, and a little intimidating. There is even a remote control laser pointer. Okay, I know, not the most technologically advanced article in that classroom, but really the strangest and most foreign to me. Not that I've never seen a laser pointer, I totally have (my sister's dog goes nuts for them), but I've never seen one in a classroom.
Think of all the things I could do! I could stand in front of the students and laser point at the projected computer screen. I could point at the white board thing I have. I could point at the mysterious boxes of bottled water in the corner of the room (I told the students that the water is for us, in case of emergency; we'll all hunker down). Technology is. Something?
Well. I'm not sure, but the class is also unique in the way it's set up. Two rows of connected desks, stadium seating, swivel chairs. It all feels very, very professional.
This, however, makes sense, as my classroom is in the College of Business building.
The class I teach today is in GS (General Classroom South), a decidedly older building, with technology an unlikely affair. It's going to be interesting to see how my two classes are affected (or not) by technology this semester. I'm interested in whether the technology will help them pay attention more, help them become involved in discussion, and generally feel more at home in the classroom, or if it turns out to be a hindrance.
I know I'd need many more classes and much more time for my investigation to be anything but anecdotal, but still.
I teach one of my classes in the most technologically advanced classrooms I've ever seen. It's amazing, and a little intimidating. There is even a remote control laser pointer. Okay, I know, not the most technologically advanced article in that classroom, but really the strangest and most foreign to me. Not that I've never seen a laser pointer, I totally have (my sister's dog goes nuts for them), but I've never seen one in a classroom.
Think of all the things I could do! I could stand in front of the students and laser point at the projected computer screen. I could point at the white board thing I have. I could point at the mysterious boxes of bottled water in the corner of the room (I told the students that the water is for us, in case of emergency; we'll all hunker down). Technology is. Something?
Well. I'm not sure, but the class is also unique in the way it's set up. Two rows of connected desks, stadium seating, swivel chairs. It all feels very, very professional.
This, however, makes sense, as my classroom is in the College of Business building.
The class I teach today is in GS (General Classroom South), a decidedly older building, with technology an unlikely affair. It's going to be interesting to see how my two classes are affected (or not) by technology this semester. I'm interested in whether the technology will help them pay attention more, help them become involved in discussion, and generally feel more at home in the classroom, or if it turns out to be a hindrance.
I know I'd need many more classes and much more time for my investigation to be anything but anecdotal, but still.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Somehow
I've been thinking about how to post this on here, partly because I've been so nervous about getting a job, and partly because I'm just sort of afraid I won't say it the right way, but I got a job!
Yes, it's true. I somehow managed to wrangle an instructor position in this scary economic quicksand we're all sort of sinking in.
Evidence of the quicksandiness of the economy? Bobby is being replaced at his job by a computer. No lie. Let me say that again, because it just sounds so ridiculous and so sort of zeitgeisty (please allow me zeitgeisty, thanks). He is being replaced by a computer.
Because of this absurd, hilarious, and sad event, I really really needed to get a job. I'm happy to say I'll be teaching interpretation of literature and continuing as an adviser. It's possible, however, that I've started taking my advising position too seriously. Out with friends I'll nag them about documents they need to turn in and deadlines that are coming up.
Okay, I don't think I can say anymore about this. I'm too nervous/excited about the coming semester. And actually, writing this little blog right now is a distraction. I'm supposed to be working on a story.... Away I go!
Yes, it's true. I somehow managed to wrangle an instructor position in this scary economic quicksand we're all sort of sinking in.
Evidence of the quicksandiness of the economy? Bobby is being replaced at his job by a computer. No lie. Let me say that again, because it just sounds so ridiculous and so sort of zeitgeisty (please allow me zeitgeisty, thanks). He is being replaced by a computer.
Because of this absurd, hilarious, and sad event, I really really needed to get a job. I'm happy to say I'll be teaching interpretation of literature and continuing as an adviser. It's possible, however, that I've started taking my advising position too seriously. Out with friends I'll nag them about documents they need to turn in and deadlines that are coming up.
Okay, I don't think I can say anymore about this. I'm too nervous/excited about the coming semester. And actually, writing this little blog right now is a distraction. I'm supposed to be working on a story.... Away I go!
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