The Pissed Off Professor

From this morning’s AP wire:

California’s budget is again overdue, and education is at the heart of the delay. While one side refuses to allow more cuts in the area of education, the other is demanding more cuts be made. The result: the members of the state legislature are embroiled in a tug-of-war that appeared to have no end nor hope of compromise in sight—until yesterday.

In what will undoubtedly be hailed as the state’s most important decision in education thus far, the California Education Consortium offered to act as non-partisan mediators to the state legislators. Having reviewed the issues presented by each side of the debate, the CEC has awarded control of California’s higher education to RateMyProfessors.com.

Beginning immediately, all aspects of course curriculum, instructional practices, and hiring/firing will be based on the evaluations left online. The CEC has determined the changes in educational quality will be profound and immediate, and it believes the first wave of change will be seen with the upcoming fall semester. Additionally, by relocating administration, peer evaluation, standards-maintenance, and course-overview to the virtual world, the anticipated monetary savings have been described as substantial.

When I read this, I found myself overcome with joy, and for the first time in my life, I had to review my status: after all, I was going to get the chance to go back to high school—where popularity (not substance) ruled!

Here’s a snap shot of what I found on the index page of the site:

I was pleasantly surprised to see that as I read from top to bottom and left to right, the first listings were the hottest professors—as we all know, it’s absolutely essential to education that a student be attracted to his or her instructor.  Fortunately, right next to the hotties were the instructors with the most smiley faces. (I wonder, are those smiles a result of the students being turned on?)

Sadly, I am neither hot by my students’ standards, nor am I overrun by smiley faces.

Here’s what I found about me:

It seems reports of my evil-doings are exaggerated by some readers of this blog. It also seems no one from my summer classes has rung in—sheesh! Last semester, it appears four students had something to say: two bad and two good.

Here are the rest of the pages:

So, of the twenty-two (22) entries, fourteen (14) are “Good Quality” ratings, four (4) are “Average Quality” ratings, and four (4) are “Poor Quality” ratings.

Let’s see if I can manage to do a bit of math: 64% of the reporting students think I’m good; 18% of the reporting students think I’m average; and 18% of the reporting students think I’m poor.

It’s too bad I don’t put any stock in this site given the majority of reports on me are above average—well, except no one reporting thinks I’m hot.

One of the things I’ve noticed over the years I’ve taught is the declining ability/desire of students to plan, draft, write, and edit their work.

I could take the easy road and blame this on laziness, and while I believe this to be partially true, I don’t think it’s the real reason for this phenomenon.

The computer is to blame for this.

When I was a beginning writing student, I had paper and pencils. The act of writing a composition consisted of working on sheets of paper, jotting down one’s ideas, using arrows and asterisks and numerous revisions to get the work to a point that it was safe to write a final copy—you know, the one the teacher would grade for content and neatness.

Later, when my mother brought her old typewriter home from the office, the process was similar; however, the final copy was painstakingly hunt-n-peck typed, and inevitably, one or more pages would need to be retyped after a missed key or a missed mark of punctuation or the realization that the bottom line of the text was below the one-inch margin on the page. After one or two miscues, a person learned how to focus on the task at hand.

After liquid white-out came to be, making an error was not lethal, but it was still rough: moving the bad text up, whiting the mistake out, and moving the text back down worked only some of the time. With the advent of the electric, self-correcting typewriter—a machine that could miraculously backspace, eradicate an error, and retype the correct word or phrase—life became much easier.

But the process of writing still had to be undertaken. One had to lay plans before typing. No student in her right mind would sit down at a typewriter, think to herself that she’s got four hours to get her paper done, and begin banging away on the keyboard.

Today, that’s the way students write. I know. I’ve asked the question, and the honest ones have told me as much. Before the computer, this simply wasn’t possible—at least not to the same degree.

The idea of planning and drafting a thing before typing it makes no sense in the heads of today’s students. It’s viewed as a ludicrous waste of time.

Why would I work on paper when I can work on my laptop? If I don’t like something, I just select it, hit “delete,” and move forward.

I don’t need to worry about where things go: that’s what copy and paste is for.

All I need to do is type out what comes into my head, and I’ll spell check it, grammar check it, and revise it later.

And who can blame them? They’ve grown up with computers.

They have no idea that writing and typing are not the same things.

When I learned to write, typing was the thing one did when everything was perfect. It’s what made all that hard work look good. It was the signal that a process had come to an end.

Today, using a computer (i.e. typing) is the starting point. It is the means to perfection; the place that houses the grammar checker and the dictionary and the internet. The work produced looks good from the moment it begins, and we all know the connection between looking good and feeling good.

Video may not have killed the radio star, but the computer has killed the process of writing for many students, and I see only one way to turn back this particular clock: if it were up to me, students would not be allowed to use a computer to generate compositions until they were in graduate school. They would be forced to begin their work on paper, finalize it, and type it on a typewriter that lacked a correction tape.

I guarantee this change would result in a rediscovery of the process of writing without any input from anyone: it would be the result of necessity as it was for many of us who made do in the dark ages—the time before computers.

The semester is finally in full swing: due dates are coming at regular intervals, and the reality of being a student with its associated responsibilities is beginning to dawn on some of the members of my class.

This is the time of the semester during which teachers are asked expected to be soothsayers.

My morning began with the first of what will undoubtedly be several e-mailed inquiries of similar content: the wayward student wanting to know whether or not he will pass the course in which he is enrolled.

When I get questions like this, the first place I turn is my grade book program. This is the desktop version of the same thing each student can access via the marvel of modern technology known as the internet, and my willingness to spend $45 of my own money annually on a service that allows students’ grades to post online for individual view.

The individual in question (you know, the guy who wants to know if given his current grade he still has a chance to pass the class) has an “F” in the course. This “F” is the result of his only having turned in 2 of the required 5 assignments that I have collected thus far.

Why does he need my input? What student cannot figure out that turning in less than 50% of the required course material will lead to failing the course?

I gave him the only answer I could:

Of the five assignments I have collected and scored, you have only turned in two. If you intend to skip the majority of assignments, you will not pass. If you intend to focus on this course and turn in quality work on time, you can pass. It’s entirely up to you.

I got the typical response:

So, if I turn everything else in, I’ll pass?

I gave the typical response:

I cannot see into the future, and I have no control over the level of effort you put into this class. I can tell you not turning work in will lead to certain failure; whereas, turning in quality work in a timely manner will lead to passing. The keys here are quality work and timely manner. Merely turning work in does not guarantee earning a passing score. Without consistent, passing scores, you will not pass; however, consistent passing scores will lead to passing.

Let me tell you what this student is really thinking: I have two reading assignments, a second essay, and part of my research project coming due between now and Spring Break. If I’m not going to pass my English class, I don’t want to waste my time working on any of the assignments.

As the semester progresses, these inquiries will take the form of “What do I need to get on the final to pass this class?”

Apparently, I am supposed to take time away from my life to plug various potential scores into a student’s (pathetic) current grade to answer this. These students get warned that they are in trouble over and over again during the course of the semester, but they won’t take the time to talk with me during an office hour, during a conference, or after class ends because they can’t be bothered.

I made it a personal rule two years ago never to lend extra assistance to students who are not already helping themselves. I have spent far too much time bending over backwards for individuals whose problem isn’t a lack of opportunity but a lack of concern and an utter inability to prioritize school.

ADDENDUM:

Having spent some time this morning grading a few more of the first set of essays, I see another reason the above student wants to know where he stands: his first essay was purchased from one of the numerous online writing services. Obviously, he is debating whether or not to spend more money on Essay #2.

I overheard a story on the news this morning, and though I’ve tried to find details on KCRA’s Web site to include a link, I can’t. I have to talk about this anyway: a teacher has been stealing textbooks from her school, marking over the school’s name, and selling them on eBay. Now she’s been caught. Currently, she’s on paid administrative leave.

It’s nice to know the school district is following the innocent until proven guilty theory. After all, the 600+ books found in her home might be there for a legitimate reason, right? (I keep thinking after-hours tutoring, and that just gets me nowhere good very quickly.)

Let’s not let her mistake be for naught: let’s admit teacher’s salaries suck, or this woman would not have bothered supplementing her income in this manner.

Now, let me tell you about an oddly similar thing that goes on at the collegiate level which is perceived as perfectly lawful.

The textbook business is huge, and book representatives do everything they can to convince teachers to adopt their company’s texts for our courses. One of the ways this is done is via sample copies of textbooks. During a year, I receive approximately 15 textbooks—without asking. When I need to ask, I do, and if the book I need is from a new publisher, the request for a single text will generate my receiving a number of additional texts as well.

Keep in mind, I am a part-time employee: multiply the 15 books I receive by, say 4, and that’s likely the number of books a full-time faculty member receives annually.

Admittedly, many of the texts I receive are not going to be adopted for my courses, but most of them find a place on my bookshelf on the off-chance I might pull something of value from them at some point.

Two semesters ago, I realized how much space the extra textbooks were stealing from me, so I began to ask fellow instructors what they did with their unused desk copies. The unanimous answer was they sold them. That’s right, I was told to sell the books I’d received for free.

Am I missing something here?

As the semester draws to a close, used book sellers begin to scour the halls of college campuses looking for instructors who are in their offices. They offer to buy unneeded textbooks for on-the-spot cash.

I have overheard instructors getting as much as $325.00 after allowing the used book sellers to go through their shelves picking and choosing books.

I have three bags of unneeded textbooks in my study, and while the book publishers are now beginning to offer a service by which instructor’s can send the unneeded books back (free of charge), I simply don’t have the time or the inclination or the resources to wrap and send these books back.

When my W2 finally arrived, and I saw I’d (again) made less than $20,000 last year, I had a moment during which I considered selling those books to supplement my income.

I know myself well enough to realize I’ll neither sell those books, nor send them back to their respective publishers. I can’t give them to needy students: they’re instructor’s copies, and in many cases, they have the answers. I’ve toyed with simply tossing them into my recycling can, but they’re books, so throwing them away is contrary to everything in me.

My solace is knowing those bags of books will soon be relics of a bygone era. Given the current abuse being done to what is a really great system in which instructors actually get something vital for free, publishers will soon figure out a way to put a halt to the distribution of free exam copies. Instructors will have to start buying our own copies of the textbooks we use and consider the cost as yet another price paid for choosing to teach.

I have struggled to find a balance between what is required of students, what I ask of them, and what they seem to be willing to do. While I have a great deal of flexibility when it comes to how content is presented and how required elements are taught, I am bound by very specific parameters when it comes to subject matter students must master to pass and the amount of composing that is required for the course.

Over the years, I have drastically reduced the required assignments for English Writing 300/English 1A in an effort to meet my obligations, retain a reasonable standard, and educate the students who pass through my classes.

The last several years have left me feeling as if students are lazy, resent any homework, and simply are not interested in actually learning anything. Making room for a certain degree of jadedness on my part, the numbers below seem to support my position.

REQUIRED ASSIGNMENTS

2001
ESSAYS: 6
RESEARCH PAPER: 1
QUIZZES: 11 (lowest score dropped)
READING ANALYSES: 16 (lowest score dropped)

Students day one: 48—30 allowed in (cap 27)
Students at midterm: 25
Students who finished: 18

2003
ESSAYS: 5
RESEARCH PAPER: 1
QUIZZES: 6 (lowest score dropped)
READING ANALYSES: 11 (lowest score dropped)

Students day one: 38—30 allowed in (cap 27)
Students at midterm: 18
Students who finished: 15

2005
ESSAYS: 5
RESEARCH PAPER: 0 (integrated research with other papers)
QUIZZES: 6 (lowest score dropped)
READING ANALYSES: 11 (lowest score dropped)

Students day one: standing room only—27 allowed in (cap 25)
Students at midterm: 15
Students who finished: 12

2007
ESSAYS: 3
RESEARCH PAPER: 1
QUIZZES: 0
READING ANALYSES: 3 (Prewriting assignments for each essay)
READING JOURNAL ENTRIES: 15

[Update: Students day one: 45—27 allowed in (cap 25)]
[Update 2: Students remaining week 8: 14]