The Pissed Off Professor

Reading and grading papers is a bit like what I imagine peeling back my skin would cause—if the peeling back of my skin didn’t kill me—it would hurt a lot, but it would heighten my perceptions.

After a long grading session, many of the idiosyncrasies (good and bad) embedded in what I read remain in my head influencing my awareness of words. The most common result is my being super-sensitive to meaning. After reading 50+ papers that contain vague thoughts like,

Everyone’s life is hard, but sadly, Angelou’s was harder than most.

The world is a cruel place, and everyone knows it.

We are all unique people.

you can understand how I can’t help but analyze everything for real meaning.

Well, it’s post-midterm conference week for me, so much of my last few days has been spent frantically grading midterm exams, a pre-essay analytical assignment, and my students’ reading journals.

I would normally spread this amount of grading over two or three weeks’ time, but to be as productive as possible during my conferences, I’ve done it all in about four days.

You can call me Sponge Shawn Drained Brain.

Recently, I’ve reconnected with a childhood friend via e-mail, and we’ve been discussing a variety of life and grammar issues, and given my skinned condition, I am now on a mission to wrap my head around three words: tall, grande, and venti based on our last e-versation. (Hey—I think I just coined a new term!)

It’s not these three words in general that I care about; it’s their being used to describe sizes at a business I frequent.

What is the word tall French for? Skinny model?

I get the grande and venti references, but tall? (Okay, I don’t really get the point of calling a medium a grande, but I can live with it.)

Do you remember working those “which of these things doesn’t belong” puzzles as a child? I’ve fallen into one of those, and I can’t get out.

I know TALL doesn’t belong, but my beverage of choice is a TALL, and TALL isn’t like grande or venti, so am I wrong if I order a TALL? If I order a petite, will I be understood?

This is the reason I love words. When you give yourself to them, they are frighteningly powerful little things.

But, they can be venti confusing.

Today’s post is my way of letting each of you experience a bit of my daily routine: reading, marking, and grading papers.

This is one of those areas I have little room to complain about; after all, papers are a staple of a teacher’s life, right?

Okay, while that might be is the case, I can still complain about things surrounding the issue of papers that simply shouldn’t exist:

1. I don’t get paid to do it.
2. There’s way too much of it.
3. It’s often obvious that I spend more time reading a piece than a student took writing it.

Therefore, I give you the way the above statement would look had one of my far-too-typical students (or several of my colleagues) written it:

Todays post be my way uh lettin’ each uh ya’ ‘espuh’ience some bit uh my daily routine, dig dis: eyeballin’, markin’, and gradin’ sheets.

Dis be one uh dose areas ah’ gots’ little room t’complain about; afta’ all, sheets are some staple uh a teachers life, right?

Okay, while dat might be be de case, ah’ can still complain about de stuff surroundin’ de issue uh sheets dat simply shouldnt ‘esist, dig dis:

1. I dont git paid t’do it.
2. Deres way too much uh it.
3. Its often obvious dat ah’ spend mo’e time eyeballin’ some piece dan some student took writin’ it.

Okay, I know, if it had really been written by one of my students, the grammar might have been a bit better, and surely there would have been more text-message-based spelling involved, but ya’ git whut ah’ mean, right?

Want to know what your thoughts would look like if a witless and or/lazy individual from your life wrote them? Go here, and enjoy!

Okay, so we’ve talked about it already, but our conversation simply can’t end with yesterday’s post.

I have to keep going with this because the article is a fine example of the oh-so-common poor writing that is routinely released into the world by those who know no better.

I’ll remind you of the horrible sentence in question:

[The 2002 No Child Left Behind law] offers intensive reading help for low-income and struggling schools.

Setting aside the previously mentioned dangling modifier, I want to focus on the phrase “low-income and struggling schools.”

Did I miss the day the schools began earning their own incomes? Are the hallowed halls of education more than brick-and-mortar structures? Are they sentient beings suddenly faced with the horrid task of making their ends meet?

Let’s be honest, shall we?

What that sentence should say is:

[The 2002 No Child Left Behind law] offers intensive reading help [for students attending] low-income and struggling schools located in neighborhoods in which the amount of money earned is so insignificant that the politicians and the machination of government doesn’t have to worry about the parents in the area fussing or cancelling six-figure campaign contributions.

Schools are neither low-income nor struggling; however, the American citizens living around them might be. This situation results in a frighteningly common phenomenon: poor neighborhood, lesser-funded school; minority area, under-equipped school.

Am I still a nit-picker?

I do my share of complaining about the lack of attention my students pay to what they write, and one of the reasons for this is the long-term consequences I foresee when poor writers and thinkers are released into the world.

Let’s face it: common sense is no longer common.

I was scouring the news this morning for more details regarding the CSU strike when I came across a masthead that read, “Report Shows Misstep on Reading Program.” I temporarily abandoned my initial search and clicked on the link. Here is the fourth sentence:

[The 2002 No Child Left Behind law] offers intensive reading help for low-income and struggling schools.

Now, for those of you who think there is nothing wrong with this sentence, go back to your English teachers and pummel each of them!

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

This sentence is reporting that a program offers help to schools. Are you kidding me?

(Oh no, you still don’t get it, do you?)

ERRRRRRRRRR

Schools are not alive, and they do not need help: the STUDENTS in them do!

What that sentence should read is:

[The 2002 No Child Left Behind law] offers intensive reading help for [STUDENTS ATTENDING] low-income and struggling schools.

I know: you’re thinking to yourself that I am being a nit-picker. You’re also thinking that you understood what was meant, so I ought to find something better to do.

I suppose you’re right.

I’m going outside to work on my backyard: I think I’ll put up some Bob Wire to keep out the idiots.

No matter how much I stress revision and proofreading work before turning it in, there are those students who refuse to take these steps seriously. The new age of electronics has basically killed writing as a process, but all is not lost: at least I get to laugh.

1. Frederick Douglass was born a salve, and it was difficult.
2. I think one of the ways to solve the problem is to surround the area with Bob Wire.
3. Some of the best advice I got was form my ant.
4. When u r faced with a crisis, u got to meet it head on.
5. As a child, my mother taught me about right and wrong; I don’t treat people different.

Some of the things I have to include in my courses are not particularly enjoyable for me. (Imagine that, a job in which everything one is required to do is not utterly appealing.) English Writing 300 (1A, Freshman Composition) requires a research paper be included in the semester’s curriculum.

I loathe this. It is difficult enough to encourage students to produce 4-page papers which focus on something narrow, but trying to convince a beginning writing student (who generally isn’t interested in being a writing student of any level) to embark on a semester’s long research project that culminates in 7-10 pages of in-depth writing about a more complex subject is nearly impossible. (It is made possible by setting up one’s syllabus so said assignment is worth about 20% of the student’s overall grade.)

I have struggled with working around the research paper by integrating research elements into each formal writing assignment. The results of this have been abysmal: students ignore the parameters set for acceptable sources and settle (at the last minute, I presume) for an online dictionary which provides a definition that gets plugged awkwardly (and uselessly) into the paper’s introduction. The other common result was a good source which would have provided a great addition to a paper that is instead relegated to a single (awkwardly) integrated quotation of questionable value.

Much of this failure might be the fault of the instructor: if students don’t know what types of sources are acceptable and are not clear regarding how best to integrate quotations, mistakes will happen. I can assure you, this is not the case with my students. They are thoroughly versed in what makes a reliable, usable outside source, and they are shown numerous examples regarding how to integrate said sources appropriately.

Several years ago, I gave up integrating research and reverted to assigning research papers. The results of this were also horrible. I ended my semester with a pile of papers that (for the most part) showed clear indications of last minute work: poor research, poor writing, poor me.

The overriding impression I got was a complete lack of interest on the part of (most) students regarding their topics. So I tweaked things again: I began using Jonathon Swift’s A Modest Proposal as the starting point for students’ research.

The assignment calls for students to read the piece, think about something that bothers them, then write a paper that is part research and part proposed solution. The research element of the paper is to convince the reader that the problem in question is relevant; the proposal portion of the paper allows students to get creative. The problem and its presentation are at the students’ discretion: it can be something serious or something frivolous, and the proposed solution can be satirical, serious, or anyplace in between.

If only the research papers I’d been assigned as an undergraduate were this cool!

Overall, this has been a relatively effective solution to the Research Paper Problem. In addition to improving the topic parameters, I’ve integrated mini-due dates for the project into the semester, and this has helped keep students working toward the goal. (As a bonus, I have more grading to do.)

Of course, a handful of my students have missed the due date to submit a formal topic proposal to me. The reason: they don’t know what to write about.

Next semester, I guess I’ll have to think of a few topics to assign to those students who can’t think of a single thing that’s wrong with the world or how to solve it.

Several weeks ago, I began to wonder where my W2 was: it had not arrived, and I was beginning to get worried.

If you do a bit of simple math, you’ll realize “several weeks ago” would be sometime in early February. You might also wonder why it took me until early February to miss a document that was supposed to show up in January.

I could blame this on being an English teacher: late things are so common they are, well, common.

Instead, I’ll place the blame where it belongs: The Los Rios Community College District.

Last year, a wonderful glitch in the PeopleSoft software the district uses caused all of Sacramento City College’s W2s to print with faulty figures. The bad W2s were distributed, and shortly thereafter, letters were mailed explaining the problem and notifying us that new W2s would arrive shortly. A few weeks later (in early February), I received my correct W2.

My mental where’s-my-W2? clock now operates on LRCC Distribution Time, so I didn’t begin to wonder about this year’s W2 until early February.

I placed a call to Human Resources and was told that a glitch in the PeopleSoft software had sent “a number” of W2s to old addresses. Now, my NEW address is going to be three this summer. This means it is completely independent of my old address. It gets nothing from it. Not a card on its birthday. Not a present at Christmas. In other words, NO FORWARDED MAIL.

Some stranger now has a copy of my W2. As special as I am, my W2 is much like yours: it has my full name, my social security number, my salary, details regarding my place of employment—you know, the very information identity thieves need to victimize people.

No one has apologized to me about this, and to the best of my knowledge, a general notification about this year’s “glitch” hasn’t been distributed. It is like a dirty little secret that the Los Rios Community College District has swept under the carpet.

And to think, I can’t be trusted with a library book.

This is the point during the semester during which the first tragedies begin to mount: actual work is coming due.

The death toll will not begin to rise for another several weeks, but for now, I give you a few statistics:

THE VARIOUS AND NUMEROUS PITFALLS OF BEING A STUDENT, Part I

RE: The First Reading Journal Entry Is Due:

1. So, you know how our first assignment is due today, well, here’s the thing: I was in the library working on it, and I got up to use the restroom. When I got back, I realized my journal had been stolen.
2. I don’t have my journal. I did the assignment, but I don’t know what I did with the journal. I think my roommate might have taken it by mistake.
3. My car got broken into, and all my stuff got stolen. I have to replace everything—even my journal.
4. I didn’t bring it. I was riding my bike and it fell in a puddle. It got all wet, and the words ran. (Clarification: it was the journal, not the student’s bike that fell into the puddle.)

RE: The First Reading Analysis Is Due:

1. I tried to get it done, but I didn’t really understand what we were supposed to do. That was a really hard assignment to start with.
2. Was our paper supposed to be as long as the sample you passed out?
3. I think I wrote on the wrong thing—do I still get credit?