The Pissed Off Professor

I’m not sure why other people teach, and there are days I don’t know why I do, but I’m willing to bet none of us does it as a means to undermine the success of students.

There is very little joy derived from students who don’t succeed, and even if the lack of success is completely out of my control, it’s never pleasant to inform students they’ve fallen so far behind the end isn’t just near—it has arrived.

That’s how I spent part of my Wednesday: advising several students (each of whom had failed to write a 4-page paper in three weeks’ time) they could no longer pass the course.

I’m amazed by the number of students who are shocked by my telling them they can no longer pass the class. I clearly state it on my course syllabus in the section dedicated to “How to pass this course.” One of the items is “all formal writing assignments must be completed in a manner timely enough to receive credit.”

I repeat this statement on my essay prompts, and I discuss it when I pass out the assignment.

There is always a group of students who ignore all of this because the first essay is worth only 5% of the final grade. (This is after I’ve explained it as my way of making certain everyone has the chance to get settled in, to learn my standards and expectations, but that failing to turn in that paper in a manner timely enough to earn credit will result in an automatic failure.)

It doesn’t matter: somewhere in between the multiple chances students are given in high school, in other college courses, and in life, they just don’t get that sometimes a deadline is a deadline.

I am, of course, personally responsible for their lives falling apart because I:

• a. am so mean.
• b. am completely inflexible.
• c. don’t understand what it’s like.
• d. All of the above

Because the answer is “d,” it also follows my sole purpose in the classroom is to undermine my students’ success.

Because it’s my fault they couldn’t write four pages in three weeks’ time.

Because I had the audacity to ask them to write an essay in the first place.

In a composition class no less!

I have to go plot my next scheme now: I have more lives to ruin.

Maybe another essay?

A reading response?

No—how about part of a research paper? Yes, that’s it!

Muwaaaaaaaaaaah.

I used to try to hold regular class meetings on the days formal writing assignments were due, but I’ve learned how foolish it is to expect the average (i.e. procrastinating) student to finish up a paper and read something for a class discussion.

I’ve come up with a few ways to solve this issue:

• The quick meeting: I collect papers, go over any pressing details, and dismiss the class.
• The in-class workshop: I assign an in-class reading and a discussion follows.
• The trip to the library: I escort my students to the mysterious brick building that takes up one end of the campus and show them what’s inside.

The first solution serves a dual role: I don’t have to put on a show for an entire period, and late students miss turning in their work—this leads to stiff penalties. The second solution is a bit dicey: the brain drain of paper-completion usually means even in-class work goes poorly. The third solution works reasonably well, but most students notice if I take them to the library more than once per semester, and this is confusing for them.

Monday, was a paper due date, and I went for option #3, so it was a hi-ho hi-ho it’s, off to the library we go day.

Monday’s task was to introduce the class to the wonders of online databases. The utter joy of being able to access full-text articles from a computer—even while seated in one’s home—is lost on most of my students because they have lived their entire lives in a world in which the internet was always at their fingertips. Most have never looked up a book using a card catalog. (Actually, most have never checked out a library book. Ever.)

I get downright giddy over online databases, but I’m a bit of a geek.

They didn’t get very giddy, and I just don’t get it: they have research papers to write, and being able to complete some of their research online is such a big gift, they ought to be celebrating.

Perhaps they were so overwhelmed by seeing thousands of books in one location they simply couldn’t take in the databases.

Grading essays is such an odd task: it combines evaluation with instruction, but each message is often lost on its audience. Marking papers is a time consuming and exhausting process, and not getting paid to do it only becomes more frustrating when I consider the effort is probably going to be ignored by the student who wrote the crappy paper to begin with. (After all, had the student paid any attention in class, the paper wouldn’t be bleeding.)

There are all kinds of theories floating around regarding how best to grade/mark papers including how much to say; how to say it; and whether or not using red ink will somehow destroy the psyche of students.

I find discussions in this area rather comical because no one ever discusses how many red marks a math teacher ought to put on a paper. I’ve seen plenty of math exams with big, fat zeroes on the top of them, yet no one looks at the math teacher and shakes a head over the damage done to that student’s self-worth.

After all, math is an exact discipline, but English is subjective.

That’s a load of crap. Picking up a novel is subject to likes and dislikes, but grading an essay is absolutely not. How can I be so sure? Who in her right mind would actually choose to read a 10-page research paper written by a first-year college student? There is so little chance any student of mine is going to fill page after page with enlightening information that if I were operating on a subjective level, I’d toss all the pages away and be done.

I’m not saying I don’t get chills over well-written papers: I do. I’m not even saying I don’t get the occasional new idea: I get those, too. What I am saying is there are only so many ways a particular rhetorical assignment can be written given the level of challenge I can attempt in a first-year, GE course.

A math teacher doesn’t just ask her students to fill a sheet of blank paper with every formula, equation, and theorem known to them any more than an English teacher turns students loose to write anything and everything.

There are areas of focus whether in a math class or an English class, and those are concrete, easily weighed, exact things.

But grading essays is still an enormous undertaking, and the more I can refine the process, the better.

I’ve tried many things, but I may have hit on something this time: samples.

For the first paper, I asked students to focus on framework; specifically, a solid thesis with logical, analytical support. Not surprisingly, some students succeeded and others failed.

Because we had thoroughly discussed and practiced these things prior to the paper’s due date, marking all the stuff students didn’t do—after being taught/told to—seemed wasteful and redundant. So I didn’t do the same level of marking I usually do.

I chose five of the best and five of the worst papers, took the thesis sentences and the major point of support from each, and placed them in pairs on a handout. (The writer’s remained anonymous.) I placed “The Good” on one side of the page and “The Not So Good” on the other. (Look: I coddled!)

I prepped the class for the handout by telling them what was coming and explaining anonymity would be retained as long as no one revealed himself/herself.

I noticed an immediate straightening up in seats. I also noticed several students who were on “The Not So Good” side of the handout turn a bit green.

We went over each pair of “The Not So Good” work first. I allowed the class to discuss the problems in each example, and I forced them to work with the language from the handout I provide regarding thesis sentences. I also had them refer to the grading rubric to reinforce how significant a thesis is to an academic piece.

From there, we moved to “The Good” and followed the same pattern. I saw lots of nodding and plenty of note taking.

Once we’d completed this exercise, I passed out papers, and for the first time in many, many years, I got no complaints, no under-the-breath grumbles, no snide remarks. Instead, I was asked relevant, specific, logical questions by the very students who needed to ask.

Of course, the degree of effectiveness of this exercise remains to be seen: if the essays due Monday show improvement, I may have just learned something.

I collected my students’ first formal written assignment yesterday, and I’ll begin the grading process later this evening.

One the positive side, I had a show-up rate of about 90% which is very high on the day an assignment is due, and the first reads I did yesterday evening showed promise.

On the negative side, the death toll has already begun: so far, four grandparents, one aunt, and one “good family friend” have succumbed to the grim reaper. (Each of these sudden deaths occurred either Saturday or Sunday, and each required the student be out of town on paper-Monday.)

Real death is a significant loss, but the continued and predictable death-in-conjunction-with-due-dates makes it hard for me to believe anyone.

The first essay is due next Monday. I wonder: should I post my class list to allow my readers to ascertain whether or not they might be related to one of my students and by extension, be nearing death?

The title of this post sums up the outcome of my dealings with the student who said to me,

. . .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!

As happy as I am to be rid of that problem, I am not at all impressed by the way in which things transpired.

Simply disrupting a class over two consecutive periods and then sending a threatening e-mail are not sufficient grounds to send a student packing, nor does anyone on my campus think the student needs counseling—in fact, my suggesting such was met with warnings from very well-meaning people that “[I’d] be going down a dangerous road” for suggesting such a thing.

Remember, this student is a grown adult who had been verbally aggressive and abusive in class, and who has military training.

While I don’t want to blow things out of proportion here, can anyone say Virginia Tech? The irony of events such as those at VT is that no one claims to have seen the thing coming until it was all over. During the same week that lots of fingers were being pointed at instructors and administrators at VT, I was telling the people at Sacramento City College I had a volatile student in class, and all I heard was a warning of how to act so as not to have the student complain about me.

At one point, the discussion turned to whether or not other students in the class would report this student’s behavior as disruptive. (Unfortunately, I’d left my crystal ball at home that morning, and I had forgotten my word wasn’t sufficient.)

This student called me EVIL.

This student implied I HAVE NO FAVOR WITH GOD.

The subject line of the e-mail read “Thanks for nothing. . . BITCH.

Yes, I can see where I might have difficulty explaining my reasons for feeling threatened by this student’s behavior.

The student is someone else’s problem now: arrangements were made to move the student out of my class and into someone else’s.

The message: treat your instructor as the pile of shit you think she is, and if the instructor expects something different, we’ll take care of you.

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.

More and more, I am faced with students who are certain their failures are my fault or out of their control due to a variety of stumbling blocks the world sets out as a means to foil their otherwise responsible intentions.

Many of my students have been conditioned to believe that if they don’t like something, they should ignore it or argue about it. (Under no circumstances should they accept anything not completely satisfactory to them.)

This leads to a variety of problems in the classroom, several of which came to a rotten head a few days ago.

I have to preface some of this with a few facts:

1. Many students do not staple multiple page papers together unless specifically required to do so.
• When it is required, they still don’t get the staple should be in-place before papers are collected—even if this is expressed on the course syllabus and the assignment’s handout (see #2).
2. Many students do not actually put stock in handouts, lectures, statements, etc. unless said things serve their purposes.
3. Many students feel their errors are not actually errors but “honest mistakes” for which they should be forgiven.
• This is especially true if items from #2 have been ignored and the work has subsequently been penalized accordingly.
• Failing to “forgive” these “honest mistakes” is indicative of a teacher who is “terrible.”
4. The phrase “I didn’t know” is a panacea for all things student-related.
• Ironically, most students don’t know what “panacea” means.
• Looking up words is for dorks.

It was midterm day, and the task was to write. (This was met with some complaints initially, and even after I reminded students they were in a composition course, a few thought an in-class writing task was unreasonable.)

I had prepared them in terms of what the exam would cover (a handout and a reading), what they needed to bring (all of their regular supplies plus plenty of binder paper, several pens, a dictionary, and a stapler) and what things I wouldn’t tolerate (tardiness, sharing materials, failing to follow instructions, or cheating).

Several students came to class without textbooks or handouts; others arrived without sufficient writing supplies; one student swore I said the midterm was the following week.

The ogre in me came out right away: when one of these students tried begging supplies from his classmates, I asked that he stop. (My explaining it was not fair to put his classmates in such an awkward position—to share or not share—not only fell on deaf ears, but also led to several students expressing their shock at my inflexibility.)

Fine, who am I to try to protect the classroom environment?

I let the beggars do their thing, and after fifteen minutes of wasted time, I reminded the class of what I thought was obvious: that time would have to come off of their exam time. (That another class uses the room after ours isn’t relevant—just ask my students—it’s merely my desire to undermine their whole lives for reasons arbitrary.)

Just before passing out the exam, I collected their reading journals. The cries of several students who hadn’t bothered to bring them wasted several more minutes. (After all, it’s not really a class day—it’s midterm day—why would they have their bring-them-with-you-every-day-we-meet-no-exceptions journals? See #2.)

Having passed out the prompt for the exam, three students asked me for copies of the handout they were to use as they hadn’t brought theirs. I didn’t have extras. I am evil because of this.

The end of the exam brought with it a number of students who hadn’t bothered to bring their staplers—a required supply as stated on the course syllabus—so began classmatus interruptus. I stopped the brain staple-less students, took their papers, stapled them with my stapler, and marked them for a 25% grade reduction. (I am such a bitch.)

The pinnacle of my evil was reached when I refused to accept the journal of one student at the end of the class period.

Several odd things fell into magical place as exam and journal were passed my way:

1. This student had whined about not having brought her journal.
2. I had caught the student text-messaging while the great beg was taking place.
3. This student had abruptly arisen from her seat and left the room about 15 minutes after the exam had begun.
4. Coming back from what I thought was a bathroom break, she had a notebook with her.

I had put several pieces of a lovely puzzle together, and the picture I’d formed wasn’t a pretty one: she’d left her journal at home, so she text messaged someone to deliver it, and when the someone arrived, she left the classroom to get it, so she could turn it in at the end of class.

I don’t take late journals, and they had been collected 90 minutes prior.

According to the student, she’d found the “journal” in her backpack while putting her things away, and it was just unreasonable of me not to take it. (To avoid more arguing while several students struggled to finish writing their exams, I took her notebook.)

I’ll leave it to you to guess her reaction the following Monday when she saw her “journal” hadn’t been evaluated or given any points. I’ll also leave it to you to imagine the conversation I was forced to endure regarding her notebook not being a journal as described on the course syllabus.

I think now is the time to begin soliciting votes for teacher bitch-of-the-year!

Having made it through the whirlwind of WEEK ONE of summer school, here’s where things stand:

THE GOOD
Each of my classes is full, and most of my students appear to be motivated for the rigors of summer session.

It only took three days to get the keys I needed to get into the classrooms I’m using.

The parking situation isn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought it would be considering most of the main faculty lot is a pile of rubble right now.

In terms of my teaching game, I seem to be right on, and I have been each day so far—that’s a weird kind of miracle, and it feels good.

THE BAD
The bookstore decided to order 15 book sets for my 28-student classes. This has created some interesting problems in terms of students trying to study and do homework and in terms of how much scanning I have to do.

One of my students decided the textbooks I put on library reserve were for her alone, and despite the steep fees for failing to return said books after the two-hour limit, she still has them in her possession.

One of my returning students thought summer session started this week not last week.

Another student from last semester—a student who clearly hated me—showed up this morning asking to be added, and since each of us knows she hates me, I asked her why she wants to take another class from me. At least she had the guts to tell me that “while I’d love to avoid ever taking another class from you, I really need this credit, and you’re the only teacher teaching the class. I suppose you could call me desperate.” How could I not let her in?

THE UGLY
The student who has been hogging the reserve textbooks found out today that her overuse was going to cost her about $60 in fees, so she asked me to write a note to the library asking that her fines be waved since no books were available in the bookstore. When I refused, she stomped her foot and called me mean. She began to cry over not being able to afford the fines. She cried through the first 10 minutes of today’s quiz. She failed the quiz, and to me, this adds a bit of insult to injury: the fines are obviously not going to be money well spent.

I had two problem students in my 8:00 am class: one was a sit-in-the-back-and-sleep problem, the other was a I-can’t-get-to-class-before-8:15 problem. On Wednesday, I kicked sleeping guy out, and as he left, he made certain everyone in the room understood that in his opinion I was a “fucking bitch.” Without my class, he won’t be eligible for his sport, so today, his coach was kind enough to ask for a meeting to “talk” about how his athlete might get back into my class. I’m not sure the coach appreciated my ending the conversation with, “Well, there’s really no need for a meeting as your athlete has zero chance of returning to my class: I am, after all, a ‘fucking bitch’—at least that’s what your athlete called me as he exited the room.” Pregnant pause. “So,” says the coach, “I guess that’s a ‘no’?” Uh, yes. . .no.

Mr. Late guy got his first warning on Wednesday, and on Thursday, I informed him another tardy at any point would be cause for his being dropped. Guess who was late today? You got it, so while textbook girl was crying, I was kicking late dude out.

All things considered, it has been a good first week—no, really, it has.

Summer Session Countdown: T-Minus 4 Days

I think I have the most of what I’m going to need for my first week of school squared away. The job has been made a bit easier by the recent, bad weather: there’s been no temptation to wile away my time in the sun while gazing at the passing wildlife.

Today, though, the sun is out, and the birds are singing. As I completed my morning rounds of watering and filling feeders and baths, I realized that beginning Monday, I’m going to miss out on the best part of the year for relaxation in the wilderness.

Summer session only lasts six weeks, but once it’s over, the cooler weather will have given way to the warmer stuff, and the mornings just won’t be the same.

Soon the pregnant does will wander off to have their fawns, and I may miss that first new baby of the season while away teaching. The new babies only keep their spots for a short time, and they quickly lose their wobbly legs—I don’t really want to miss either event.

The birds are just beginning to bring their young to feed, so I’ll miss out on some of the flying lessons that take place in the early morning hours, and on a scale of cute, beginning flying lessons are near the top.

Then, there is the mating season for squirrels, and that is something that really must be seen to be believed, and that, too, I shall likely miss.

How can an English class possibly compete with any of this regardless of my level of preparedness and enthusiasm? And this is coming from the teacher.

Summer Session Countdown: T-Minus 6 Days

I spent the better part of yesterday revamping the Web site I use to augment my English classes. It is one of the things I seem to do on an almost semester-by-semester basis, yet someplace in the back of my mind, I know the site doesn’t get used to the degree it should.

Honestly, it’s a waste of my time, but I pretend it’s going to help a few people.

And, I suppose it might. Maybe. Right?

One other class-related task I did was checking enrollment, and I discovered the lists for the Fall Semester has been added to the database.

Imagine my surprise when I saw two of the students who are enrolled in my fall English Writing 300 class are students who failed my course this past semester.

One of them is the I-chose-my-job-over-my-class student, and the other was one of the post-Spring Break disappearing acts. Both were solid students, but each gave up.

I’m still trying to figure out why these two students decided to retake my class. I see two possibilities: one, the students figure they know what to expect and have some of the work done already; two, the students liked my class.

I wonder: could the second possibility be true?