I see the benefits of many technological advances; however, much of the positive is outweighed by students’ failing to take appropriate advantage of the tools at their disposal.

Here are a few examples:

E-mail:
When I was in school, I had to take the office hours of my professors into account if I wished to communicate with them outside the times and days we met in class. Often, my professors’ office hours conflicted with other things I had to do and/or were on days or at times I was not on campus.

This forced me to make a point to speak up in class if I knew it was my only option, or if meeting with my professor(s) was difficult.

It also meant I had to prioritize my activities: I often had to make a special trip to campus at the expense of my free time, or arrive early/stay late on class days to be around during a particular instructor’s office time. Occasionally, I even had to change a work shift to meet with a teacher.

The good part about meeting with an instructor face-to-face is the ability to truly interact. It’s not often something is missed or misunderstood when having a live conversation. It also allows instructors to delve more deeply into a student’s inquiry. The added benefit for many students is learning their teachers are not nearly as frightening as they think they are.

Today, students (and parents and other teachers) expect instructors to be available via e-mail. This never seems to work as well in practice as it does in theory. Too many students try to converse via e-mail, and it’s just not the correct medium for it. Other students replace in-class participation with e-mail, and that does no one any good. Then there are the students who think e-mail is like text messaging: that they’ll get an immediate response—at 2 AM—on the morning the essay they’ve had three weeks to write is due.

My favorite abuse of e-mail goes something like this:

Professor Hansen, did you get my e-mail?
Yes. Did you get my answer?
No. I haven’t checked my e-mail in a few days. What did you say?

Electronic communication is so readily available, it is abused: no student would take the time to go to an instructor’s office in person, ask a question, and then walk out without an answer. Likewise, few students would take the time to meet with their instructors to ask a question the answer to which is readily available on the course syllabus or a handout. Because e-mail is so effortless, students abuse it.

The Internet:
Like e-mail, the internet wasn’t a staple of my educational years. I shall never comprehend the reason so many people think everything they see on the internet is true and comes from a reliable source.

I know: not all of what is heard on the radio, nor all of what is broadcast on television, nor everything printed in newspapers and magazines is true, but most would agree the probability of accuracy is greater in any of those arenas than on the internet.

I once had a student incorporate into his research paper the fact that Roe v. Wade had been overturned because he’d found it in an article in The Onion. Now, I’m not ready to claim with absolute certainty the situation would have been different had this student held a copy of The Onion in his hands, but I can promise you this: he couldn’t have performed an internet search and gone directly to the article thereby avoiding the other content and the opportunity to ascertain the type of paper The Onion is.

The Word Processor:
When I was a student, I had a typewriter. I went though the painstaking steps of lining up a sheet of paper, typing exactly what I’d written/revised/edited onto the page, and turning it in. Like many of you other old timers out there, I recall the process involving many flubbed pages, a ton of preplanning to prevent even more flubbed pages, and the utter frustration of trying to type over liquid paper (once it existed).

Most of my students have never seen a typewriter in person let alone used one. The concept of preplanning an essay seems nonsensical when one can copy and paste things here and there at will, so real writing has gotten lost. Given the ease with which everything else happens on a word processor, the thought that one might have to manipulate the formatting is out-of-the-question. (In fact, many word processing programs are so helpful they auto-format things, and if the computer decides it’s right, it must be—whether or not it looks anything like the sample a teacher has passed out.)

The Bottom Line:
I am extremely thankful I can communicate with people electronically. I love being able to learn about a variety of things at the touch of a URL. I get downright giddy when I’m working on a piece and can make changes at will without wasting paper or time. But all of these things are what they are for me because I spent the first twenty-five or so years of my life unable to do them.

This is the reason I sit on the fence when it comes to technology in education: I’m not certain the tools of modern society are the most effective learning aides.

I’m posting the correspondence below, and it’s verbatim save for the student’s name which has been changed because I don’t want said student getting even five seconds of fame for being such an incredible ass.

The only background necessary is to point out the way a class is built at my school which is different from most colleges.

Our PeopleSoft system cannot determine the eligibility of a student to enroll in classes with prerequisites, and all but one of our English classes has a prerequisite. This means students enroll freely based on assigned registration dates, and Student A (who is not eligible for a class) can take a seat from Student B (who is eligible for the class) by virtue of an arbitrarily assigned enrollment date.

It is up to each instructor to check eligibility and shuffle students accordingly.

To make matters worse, each class—regardless of class cap—has an automatic waiting list feature that allows 20 students to “wait” for a slot. This is the reason I showed up to my first day of English Writing 100 and had close to 60 people jammed into my classroom: 28 enrolled, 20 waiting, and about 10 more bodies begging and pleading for a seat.

There is no good way to deal with this, but I have a routine that is as fair as I can make things: people who are present—regardless of any list—get preference over those who fail to show. Those who return the following class session with proof of eligibility then get preference over no shows and those without proof. By the third class, I set my students and dismiss the stragglers.

The student in question was on my waiting list, and she showed up for the first day but arrived late to the second session, disrupted the class to give me papers (including eligibility), and then ran out to “go to court.” (Less than one hour later, she had sent me her first e-mail, and anyone who knows this city and its court systems will likely find this timing improbable.)

It must also be noted that it is not uncommon for students to enroll in a required number of units to secure loans/grants/aid and either never show up for a class or show up only long enough to add a course and never return.

I do not hold/give seats to these people while other students are waiting to learn.

Here are the e-mails in order of their arrival:

Hello,
My name is STUDENT. I am in you engwr100 class from 12 to 1:20pm and i would like to know if you have a permission number I can use to fully enroll myself in the class. I don’t know if you received my last message but this is just to update. I need that number to give to the Veterans Aid so I can receive my money for books and other school supplies. Thank You and please email me as soon as possible.

[My reply]

STUDENT,

This is the first message I’ve received from you.

I’m curious: how were you able to leave campus, get to court, take care of things, and e-mail me all within an hour?

When you come to class on Wednesday, I’ll have a permission number for you. Until you are able to get your supplies, make use of the reserve textbooks in the library to complete your homework and keep up.

Professor Hansen

[The Student’s Reply]

Good morning.
I was able to go to court after I RAN to your class to turn in assignments asked for. Whether you want to believe it or not I am a trustworthy and reliable student. I needed that number to get my check right with the veterans office and you are of no help. Fortunately I will be in class on Wednesday and you can be as evil as you wish because I have favor with God. I can make it with out the belief of others. See you in class Wednesday and also…. thanks for nothing!

Needless to say, I’ve already contacted my dean, and I’ll be filing disciplinary paperwork on this student to toss said student’s ass out of my classroom.

Because I am “evil.”
Because I “have [no] favor with God.”
Because somehow this pig-headed “student” thinks this is the way to act.

As an aside, while this “student” was able to mouth off via e-mail (and later, in class the following period), the one-paragraph writing task and set of flash cards assigned were too much for him/her to complete.

Friday, try as I might, I couldn’t find the story anywhere online. Of course, I didn’t listen carefully enough to note the name of the school or the state in which this occurred. All I do know is that it involved twelve teachers, and their descriptive catch-phrase was For the Children.

Here’s the gist of the story: a group of grade school teachers began devoting the twenty-five minutes of preparation time they are compensated for at the end of each school day to their students. In lieu of using that time to prepare for the following day’s lessons, these teachers devoted that twenty-five minutes of time to assist students in math, reading, and writing.

There were grumblings at the school and grumblings at the union as this time that was being given away was viewed as potentially turning into mandatory (unpaid) service. (In other words, if teachers used their prep time to teach, they don’t really need paid prep time.)

The principal stepped in, and she asked that each of the teachers vote on whether or not to do the extra, after-school tutoring. Her position was simple: everyone’s in or everyone’s out.

Now, I am assuming this only involved the teachers in the math, reading, and writing areas as the vote was unanimously yes, and that resulted in the twelve teachers mentioned on the news.

Here’s where it gets really interesting: the students and teachers have been doing this since the beginning of the school year, and the improvements have been vast.

These teachers are being hailed as heroes, and while I guess they are, I am appalled.

They should not use their paid preparation time to tutor students: they should be using that time to do what they are being paid to do.

If twenty-five minutes of extra time is resulting in such huge advances, why isn’t the nation standing up and demanding this time be given to each and every student across the country?

Where in the HELL are the parent(s) of these children? Twenty-five minutes is making a difference between grades of failure and grades of excellence to most of these kids.

Are you telling me the parent(s) does not/do not have twenty-five minutes of time available to spend helping his/her/their own child/children? This is grade-school-level math, reading, and writing. These are not skill-sets any parent should be without.

We live in a society that requires licenses for driving and for owning handguns, but this same society requires virtually no training to become a parent.

I’m with the union: make the teachers stop. If the school day isn’t sufficient to teach what is necessary, extend the school day. If the kids need extra help, the parent(s) need to step in.

Teachers do not have children in their classrooms: they have students. Parents have children.

Any parent who can’t spend twenty-five minutes of time per day helping his/her child/children is not a fit parent.

If things go well for her, she’ll soon be an assistant manager. (And to think we just got finished reading John Updike’s “A & P.”) In order for her to have a shot at this coveted position, she’s had to work some odd shifts and overtime to prove herself.

This has resulted in her missing class and deadlines and lying to me about it. She was earning an “A,” but she’s tanked her grade into the “F” category.

I am certainly in no position to judge the choices my students make; however, I can’t help but feel as if a really talented student has blown a shot at something good in exchange for an opportunity that is not going to be long-term.

Shortly after learning the truth about this student, I returned to my office where my officemate was conferencing with one of her students.

This student is an extremely gifted writer: she has recently turned twenty-two, and is apparently as good a student in the rest of her classes as she is in English. She loves writing—she’s even had a few things published, but she wants to be a doctor.

It turns out she is also a musician—a drummer in fact, and she must be pretty good because she decided to audition for Beyonce’s upcoming tour. She was extended a job offer to be the drummer for Beyonce’s all-girl touring band.

She confessed to my officemate that while excited, she was going to turn the offer down so as not to get behind in school

I was shocked (and frustrated and saddened) to learn my officemate hadn’t tried to convince her to go be a drummer for two years.

Again, this is a twenty-two year old who has an opportunity to travel the world with a reputable performer while exploring what must be considerable musical talent.

I am relatively certain school and the rest of her life will be here waiting for her were she to choose to go be a drummer; however, I fear what the repercussions might be if she stays here, continues with school, and looks back at some point wondering “what if?”

So, in one afternoon, I dealt with a student who tossed a good grade away to pursue an assistant manager’s position at an electronics store and another student who isn’t going to see the world as a drummer so as not to “get behind.”

Honestly, these two choices have left me (theoretically) speechless.

(I’ve always thought if it as a weird twist on the cliché guilt by association. In the case of that game, it’s innocence by association. But, I digress.)

Over the past week, I’ve felt a bit as if I were immersed in a live-action version of the game as provided by the media. Everywhere I’ve turned, there’s a story about students, schools, parents, and violence—or some combination thereof. (None of it seems to belong to the world in which I want to live.)

I wrote about how tired I am of the media circus surrounding Virginia Tech, and the backlash to this has been my own boycott of sorts of the news: when a story about the VT shootings plays, I change the channel or turn off the news.

Consequently, I have a very narrow concept of things right now: I have to avoid every news show that isn’t pure fluff. My knowledge base has been reduced to three basic issues:

1. That Sanjaya guy has finally been voted off of American Idol.
2. Alec Baldwin is proving that good parents do still exist.
3. If I think I have it bad now, wait until this child has her baby and either of them ends up in one of my classrooms.

• The way I see it, the first issue is really not important.
• The second issue reveals so many things about parents and kids there isn’t time to explain.
• The third thing proves we need a society-wide rally against this child: she must be spayed before any damage can be done.

A chunk of America is in an uproar over the on-air comments Don Imus made about the women’s basketball team at Rutgers University, and while I stand with the crowd, my voice carries a different cry, and I am confused.

My confusion stems from the issue(s) being brought up: that Imus’ comments have been deemed racist and sexist.

I don’t think these are valid issues at all: I think the focal point needs to be that is Don Imus is a bully, and he bullied his way across an unforgivable line pleading the humor defense.

Don Imus did not level his hair comments at Barack Obama, nor did he take a shot at Hillary Rodham Clinton’s womanhood. This genius of comedy didn’t take his words and toss them at Oprah Winfrey, and he completely missed the boat by not including Dennis Rodman instead of the Toronto Raptors in his joke.

I’ll tell you why he didn’t do these things: he’s a bully and a coward not a comic. Instead of picking on anyone who might have had the power and the authority to fight back, he picked on a group of college women who had just suffered one of the greatest defeats in women’s basketball history.

And he kicked them when they were down. Nice: insert laugh-track here.

I watched the game, and I saw what happened: Rutgers was gutted by Tennessee. It was hard to observe, not only because I wanted Rutgers to win, but also because the way they lost made my ex-athlete’s heart ache for these women who had—up to that loss—seemingly solved the problem of Sisyphus by moving that damn rock up that impossibly steep hill.

Along with his remarks about the Rutgers women, Don Imus made it clear that he wants to date the Tennessee team: he thinks they’re pretty and cute. That’s disgusting, and severely not funny.

Here’s my lesson in critical thinking:

If Don Imus actually watched the game, I think that proves he isn’t a sexist: if you doubt me, you aren’t paying attention to any of the hateful comments being made about women’s sports in general and women’s basketball in particular.

Given Imus’ remarks about wanting to date the Tennessee team, he’s likely not racist either: Candace Parker is about as pretty as a woman can be, and unless I am mistaken, she is African-American. At 5’2’, Shannon Bobbitt drilled so many three-pointers, Rutgers had no chance, so Imus must have noticed her, and she’s also African-American. Nicky Anosike was a rebounding monster, and given the number of second- (third and forth) chance shots she provided Tennessee, it’s no wonder they steamrolled Rutgers. Oh, she’s African-American, too.

I want to know something: did Al Sharpton watch the game, or did he ring in after the media frenzy began? I’d be willing to bet he knew nothing about any of the Rutgers players prior to all of this blowing up. I’ll bet he still isn’t clear about who Candace Parker is, and I’ll bet he didn’t wonder why the commentators kept referring to Vivian Stringer as “C. Vivian Stringer” all afternoon.

Al Sharpton is a racist, but no one cares because he’s a black racist.

I don’t care whether or not Don Imus is a racist or a sexist, but I do care that he is a cowardly bully who attacked a group of college women.

I care because his attack has placed each of them in the position of having to think about everything they say and do until this whole thing is resolved.

I care because his words have diminished what the team accomplished on the court.

I care because I know what it’s like to be bullied.

More than anything else, I care because I would be honored to have any of these student athletes in my classes: they are as skilled academically as they are athletically.

Don Imus should lose his job and be permanently banned from broadcasting, but not because he is a racist or a sexist: Don Imus should be fired and banned because he is a bully and a coward and he used his authority to belittle and intimidate college students.

stupid-stupid-stupid

Last night, after dismissing my final class, I experienced one of those moments when professionalism and simply being human clashed.

One of my students returned to the room (prior to my managing to escape) and said,

Define late.

This was not an attempt to learn something new, nor was it an honest plea for clarification: it was defiant.

Ironically, as clear as the term late is, I have defined it in my course syllabus because I have had prior experience with students acting in this asinine manner. Here is a portion of what my students are told:

LATE WORK:

Due dates of all essays and reading analyses, as well as dates of your midterms and final are listed on this syllabus. In addition, they are listed on the course Web site on the Major Due Dates page. PLAN YOUR SEMESTER NOW! Unless you have made prior arrangements with me, late work will be penalized. (See note regarding make-up work, below.)

1. LATE as defined by Shawn: after I begin class or take role on the due date.
2. PRIOR CONSENT as defined by Shawn: you have talked to me personally, before the due date, and we have made other arrangements. (Leaving me a note or sending an e-mail is not sufficient!)

Here’s what I replied to my student:

So, the term late confuses you. Wow—I suggest you open the dictionary that is required for this class and take a look at the definition. Then, for even more clarification, you can refer to the course syllabus, where I define the term.

I got the very adult response, “whatever” before the student left the room.

Not a minute later, back in the student walks.

“I want you to know, I think you’re mean.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“None of my other teachers gave out homework over the break.”

“Okay—let me make sure I understand you: the assignment I gave you three weeks ago—the one I collected today—you put it off until the break, and that makes me mean, right?”

“What—ever.”

Apparently, I am mean.

Fine.

But that student is a bugger-snot.

According to a survey conducted by the California Student Public Interest Research Group, college students in California and Oregon spent an average of $898 on new and used textbooks during the 2003-2004 school year, the equivalent of 20 percent of the typical cost of in-state tuition. In 1996, the average cost was $642.

‘Unlike the $6 novel you can buy in a bookstore at the mall, academic textbooks run in the high double digits and even triple digits,’ says Kelly Tanabe, author of 1001 Ways to Pay for College.

Okay, let’s begin with the comparison of a novel and a textbook:

A novel contains a few hundred pages designed to entertain; however, a college textbook contains a few hundred pages designed to inform, explain, exemplify, and educate.

The qualifications needed to write a novel are, uh, well, there aren’t any; whereas, the qualifications needed to write a textbook include a certain degree of expertise in one’s field.

A well-written novel is immortal; however, a well-written textbook contains cutting-edge information—it is short-lived.

Novels rarely contain diagrams, pictures, or integrated outside source material; whereas, these are necessities for most textbooks.

(Hey Kelly, you might want to go back to school and sign up for one of my critical thinking classes.) Need I go on?

Regarding the comment “college students in California and Oregon spent an average of $898 on new and used textbooks during the 2003-2004 school year,” quit whining. Let’s round that number up to $900 and do a little math. During a school year, there are usually two semesters, and during a semester, a full-time student takes between 4 and 5 classes. Using the low number, that $900 is spread between 8 classes: that’s $112.50 per class.

How in the world is spending $112 dollars on a course textbook unreasonable?

Let’s think this through a bit:

The cell phones being carried by most students are more expensive than their highest priced textbooks, and when one adds the cell-phone-service-plan that certainly includes the bells-and-whistles of text and picture messaging, ring tones, ring-back tones, and games, the cost of that student’s cell phone per-month is probably more than the textbook he or she will use for one class for the whole semester.

The iPods being carried by most students are no different: they cost more than many textbooks.

I watch each day as my students walk around campus with their purchased fast-food items. In fact, many of the students who are on campus all day purchase two or three meals in the cafeteria or via one of the nearby food establishments: very few of them pack their own meals. At $5 or more a pop per meal, a student who goes to school full-time is spending between $25 and $50 per week on pre-made, convenience food.

And by the way, part of the money spent on those textbooks is returned in the form of book buy-backs, but no one’s taking about that in the statistical data regarding expenses.

Let’s not kid ourselves, the price of textbooks isn’t the problem; the problem is society’s penchant for blaming others for the problems we create for ourselves.

Students are in school to EARN MORE MONEY, not to become better educated! If they cannot learn to prioritize and budget funds for textbooks to reach this goal, they are certainly not going to make it in the Real World where gas prices, food prices, and all other prices fluctuate on a whim. The Real World is going to demand they pay for what they need, and if students enter college unable to prioritize and budget, making that responsibility go away is doing nothing to make them better able to handle the Real World.

That same article goes on to say,

Textbooks have gotten so expensive that 43 percent of students surveyed by eBay in July said that they have not purchased required textbooks in an effort to save money. Nearly 50 percent of these students purchase their textbook[s] without assistance from their parents or student loans, and they identify biology textbooks as the most expensive type of textbook.

I wonder how many of those suffering students chose not to purchase a cell phone, or an iPod, or fast food “in an effort to save money”?

I guarantee you those same students would gladly fork out the money if spending it could buy them a grade. And that’s part of the problem: students don’t see the purchase and use of a textbook as part of the educational process. They want to sign up for classes, show up, sit in a room, and get an “A.” They are simply not up for the work that college takes, and that includes budgeting for the purchase of textbooks.

Those who are on the bandwagon with the students need to be careful what they wish for: if they continue doing things like lowering entrance requirements, tuition fees, and the cost of textbooks, they are going to reap the rewards. A society filled with even more poorly prepared people who are certain that anything that is hard isn’t worth doing.

The situation began this way: one instructor (we’ll call her Sally) asked another instructor (we’ll call him Boyd) whether or not it was acceptable for a student to present the same essay to the instructors of two separate classes.

I was thinking to myself that the adage regarding “stupid questions” was again proving false when Boyd replied to Sally,

“Goodness, no—that’s plagiarism.”

I couldn’t help myself: I laughed out loud. He’d missed nary a beat while managing to mock her—and it was so funny, she couldn’t possibly get mad at him. As the cackles tumbled from my lips, and I turned away from the copy machine to share in the moment, I realized both instructors were staring at me in a manner I can only describe as unkind.

“You find plagiarism funny?”

I had one of those moments that lasts a really, really long time as I evaluated Boyd’s body language, replayed the tone of his voice in my head, and looked carefully at the glare that had set itself into his eyes, I realized I was in trouble. I also realized it was the kind of trouble that once one is in, one has to roll with and hope for the best.

“Of course not, Boyd”

I directed my next words to Sally. “The student’s work was her own, correct?”

Sally nodded, and I looked back at Boyd.

“So how is that plagiarizing?”

“Well, that should be obvious: it’s not original work.”

The dripping sarcasm in his voice did it: the fight was on.

“Hmmm—I guess it’s not obvious to me. Perhaps you can enlighten me about how printing something twice negates its originality.”

“The student turned in the same essay to two separate teachers; that’s cheating—it’s plagiarism.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No—no I’m not kidding, and I think you’ve been around long enough to know better.”

I held back from inquiring whether or not he’d meant that I’d been around long enough to know what plagiarism was or that I’d been around long enough to know that he wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go to class. I’ll leave the two of you to finish.”

Sally seemed both nervous and embarrassed as she walked out of the room.

Boyd and I looked at one another. It was my turn, and he seemed anxious to continue our little chat spat.

“C’mon Boyd, turning in a paper twice is nowhere near presenting the work of another as your own. It’s not plagiarism, and it’s not cheating. The only thing it might be is a violation of a particular instructor’s policy if that instructor has included a ‘don’t-turn-in-a-paper-to-me-that-
you’ve-turned-into-another-instructor’ clause on his or her syllabus.”

Before I had I’d finished, Boyd’s head had begun moving left-to-right-to-left in a repetitive no-no-no kind of way.

“I think someone needs to review the definition of plagiarism.”

Obviously, I was in a battle of wits with an unarmed man, so I smiled broadly at Boyd as I said,

“Happy reading,”

and walked out of the office heading for my class.

Yesterday, a good student dropped one of my classes, and losing a good student is an almost irreplaceable loss: they add to discussions; they motivate other students; the make doing what I do worth it.

This is the third good student I’ve lost this semester. (The first two were casualties of too many classes and too little time, and one of the first two has already registered in my summer session course, so all is not lost.)

At this point in the semester, the dynamic of a class is basically set, and there is a balance that begins to build inside the classroom. Once built, the classroom dynamic is a living thing: losing a student who is part of this living thing is like lopping off a limb. This student’s leaving is going to diminish everything about the remaining weeks of this course.

This student is so special, she came to class to tell me she was leaving and to assure me that it was not about me or my teaching. She must have said “I really like you and the way you teach” a dozen times in the two minutes she spoke to me. (This was a plus: when a good student leaves, I generally do think it is my fault.) Once she said her goodbyes to the rest of the students, out the door she walked having unwittingly taken a bit of the classroom’s soul with her.

Later that night, as I was walking out, I saw the student in question walking out of an adjoining classroom. With her was another English teacher, and both of them wore looks of guilt as they saw me see them.

The other teacher scurried off, but my now-ex student stopped to talk to me once again. The conversation we had outlined her reasons for leaving my class and joining another. Basically, the other instructor “doesn’t care about grammar and punctuation and MLA like [I] do, and he takes late work.” I readily admitted to her how inviting a situation like that sounded, and I went on to point out that the other instructor’s ignoring the basics of writing and formatting and deadlines did not diminish their value.

She clearly understood, and again, she expressed to me (in all sincerity) how much she liked my class and my teaching, and “if [she] had the time to really focus on her classes she’d definitely take [my] course.” Unfortunately, “[she is] just too busy to do a bunch of reading a writing right now.”

I assure you, this is a good student—a student to whom I had no idea what to say. I am not angry with her (the other teacher is another matter), but I am angry and frustrated and at a loss—literally and figuratively.

Here is a good student making a terrible choice. Here is an example of how upside down our educational system is. Here is another reason I am Pissed Off.