I Ran (So Far Away) Like Hell

[Thanks for the new ipod music, Inky]

 

 

I Ran Like Hell

Despite the injury I’ve been recovering from; despite running a 5K earlier in the morning as part of my weekly group training; despite being dressed up in an apron and donning red braids and a plastic cap, I ran like hell on Halloween during a local 5K race: 27:46.

[Serious runners, please stop laughing. Everyone else, bow in awe.]

Since it was a fun run, I also placed higher than I ever will again: 2nd in my age group (and in my town, mine is quite the competitive age group), 41st overall (out of 150+ runners).

Not bad for an old hag!

On When I Misread a Student

I had her pegged so wrong.

She is young, beautiful, polite, a good student and writer,  but with a lovely inner stubbornness.  On the first day of class when I ask each student to introduce themselves she gave us her name and said that she is a proud Christian. (Not an unusual demographic at our college, with the local mega-church across the street.)

She struggled when asked to choose a topic for the rest of the term’s projects (a review of the literature on a controversial issue, and then an argument essay on that same issue). First, she investigated the issue of dating, and whether dating led to divorce.

This topic confused me at first, until an ex-fundamentalist Christian I know filled me in on the idea that some religious groups believe that young people should not date, but that their relationships should be arranged by their elders. The theory is that dating different people sets one up for a failed marriage in the future (because of the memories of those cool dates? that part I can’t quite figure out).

But the young woman student didn’t find any sources on that subject, interestingly, even after I tried to point her in the direction of arranged marriage (not where she wanted to go).

Now her topic is Are fathers necessary?  And she has found many sources on the subject: those arguing that fathers are not necessary for raising (rearing?) children; those that argue that fathers are necessary economically and for socialization; and those that take the middle ground (a father figure is necessary, though not necessarily the biological father).

I, naturally, assumed she would argue that a father was necessary; however, since their first essay is an objective review of the research, I don’t know for sure where she stands.

Until 3am last night, when it occurred to me that she is probably pregnant (I’m noticing weight gain, and odd food choices during class).  And that the biological father is probably not sticking around.  And that this is a serious issue for her.

I have no intention at this point of asking her: I’ll just see what I see in her writing. But this young, stubborn girl fascinates me. She is such a good student, a good writer, yet she tells me she’s leaving college after this term (more evidence, I realized at 3am, for my 3am brainstorm).  I can’t wait to see her essay.

Or should I talk to her?

On the Joys of Teaching First Year Composition

One of the real pleasures of teaching the first year composition courses is that I encourage students to choose their own topics.  Being on the dreaded quarter system, we teach three levels of first year composition (the first two are required for most students, while the third is required for transfer students):

Comp I: Students will be submitting their informative researched essays tomorrow. Topics range from What is up with NASA? to Why the latest Vocaloid is Cool to How the history of tea houses intersects with political revolution. There are also at least two papers on Zombies that I’m truly looking forward to reading.

Comp II: Students will be submitting their researched exploratory argument essays next week. Topics range from Are fathers necessary? to Why has Harry Potter causes such a ruckus in literacy studies? to Is separation of church and state truly viable?

Comp III: Students are working on their extended researched essays, and have just submitted their formal outlines in anticipation of drafting their essays this week. Topics range from What roles do angels play in various religions and cultures? to How has US action and influence, guided by current foreign policy, affected our citizens and the developing nations involved? to Has the way society treats transgendered people changed, and if so, it is enough?

As one student put it today, I must be great at party small talk after reading a batch of essays on such a variety of topics.

I’m looking forward to reading and learning, but evaluating/grading–not so much.  I plan to stock up on tea, gin and cookies for the next few weeks.

Would you please please please stop talking?

I love my colleagues–I really do. Most of us have been working together for 14 years, so we’re well established in our family roles. The three new folk also seem to be negotiating their own positions in the family, too.  Thus, our meetings tend to have the same ebb and flow each year. 

 This is particularly true when we have meetings with just the full time faculty: that’s rare, since we at least try to welcome part timers to our department meetings.  But each fall only the full timers meet to “discuss” who gets which literature and humanities classes for the following year.  You see, literature and humanities classes are the gold ring: we don’t teach enough (composition courses are the bulk of what we offer) to allow everyone to teach them, thus only the full timers get these gems: but only 1 gem per quarter per instructor. 

Perhaps you can imagine the negotiating that goes on during a meeting where we each try to get the course we want  during the days/times we want to teach it (we can’t all teach on TR at 10am, for example).

In a successful attempt by our last two chairs to delegate, I’ve been tasked with planning and leading this particular meeting each fall for years. It makes me quite popular: during the weeks leading up to this meeting, I get e-mails and office visits from faculty who want to lobby for a particular course and time slot.  Most of us are generalists and can teach many of the literature/humanities courses; those courses that do require more expertise, of course, are usually assigned easily.  But then there is the limit on the number of courses we can offer, and the requirement to offer a variety of Humanities courses on various campuses in various formats and times. And then there are those courses that are very, very desirable.

We are mostly collegial and polite, so it always works out in the end, but the meeting itself can be a frustrating deja vu, as the paternal figure of the group begins by announcing his courses and times, interrupting others during the meeting to make changes as he contemplates the schedule I’m showing on the overhead. 

Then there’s the maternal figure of the group, who is as demanding and loud as the paternal figure, but her interruptions are more about what she thinks others would really want (such as, I know so and so here has children, so he shouldn’t be asked to teach at night).

Then there is the ne’er do well or blacksheep of the family, who, of course, doesn’t attend the meeting but sends me a list of desired courses and times.  We are all aware that the blacksheep’s enrollment has been suffering, and thus we have a polite, beat around the bush conversation rearranging the blacksheep’s selections in such a way that we think will help enrollment in those sections (popular formats and times).

Then we have the younger child, the older child, and the middle child playing out their various roles, from “It’s MY turn to get that course/time” or “I think we should offer JargonyPostModCrit as a general education course!”

I’m rather tasky, so the meeting moved along despite the MANY interruptions and glitches, and personal tales.

But the toughest thing for me is saying (several times): “I’m sorry, I’m trying to hear so and so speak” or “I’m sorry, but I believe so and so was speaking.” Or variations on the theme.

And trying very hard NOT to say, “Would you please please please please please stop talking?“

Student E-Mails: Hey, You

I’m curious: does anyone else get e-mails like the following?

E-Mail #1: from a student who has missed 4 weeks of classes:

” Hey, your probably surprised to hear from me. I’ve been having some
real home problems this last few weeks. I really dpn’t want to get
into it much, but the gist of it is I was kicked out of my house and
have been just moving around. I finally have my feet on the ground
again, and was wondering if their was any way i would be able to get
back into and pass your class. If it would be easier i could meet you
tomorrow to talk about this further. I want you to know that i will
now be fully committed,and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to pass
your class. I’m truley sorry i didn’t communicate this to you earlier
it was something that caught me off guard and opened my eyes to some
harsh reality’s.
Sincerely, Young Male Student”

E-mail #2 from the same student as above, the next day, after I gave him a detailed overview of what he’d missed, and advised him that he should meet with me before class:

“Hey I got called into work today so i won’t be at class today, but I
will tell my boss the circumstances so i don’t have to miss anymore
class. Also I’ve made my advising appointment, and will take closer
look about what i should do with the class.”

E-mail from a woman student who also has missed 5 out of 6 weeks of classes:

My name is Female Student and I’m registered for your Monday/Wednesday Writing course. You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t attended class for the last three weeks [sic]. I have been struggling with depression, the flu, and impacted wisdom teeth. I am now seeing a therapist, have been to the doctor, and have had my wisdom teeth removed. Is there any possible way I can salvage this class? I know that I’ve missed a lot, but I would really like to try to at least pass this class, if possible. If you could please let me know my options, I would really appreciate it.

Frankly, dear readers, although I sincerely empathize, it’s nearly impossible to make up a month’s work of classwork and assignments in a work-shop intensive writing class, especially during the quarter system when there is only 5 more weeks of classes left.

I’m curious about the e-mails (there are more, but these are nicely representative): usually students with such horrific life issues simply drop or disappear, especially if they have missed nearly every class of the term and do not know me yet. But this term is different.

I assume that one reason is that the increased enrollment has increased the number of students who have chosen to attend college reluctantly, or as a last resort.  And of course there are probably more students this term with life issues. Our purpose as a community college is partly to meet these students’ needs. But in these cases? I’d have to reteach the last month to do so.  When and how does one say to a student: so sorry, but I strongly urge you to take a break and try again next term?

You’d think I’d be good at this after 20 years teaching at community colleges, but no, not so. Advice?

Added 10/2/09: Follow up from the young man quoted above: “Hey, it’s in my best interest right now just to drop the class. I just wanted you to know. Thank you for your time this year.”

Crush

Has this ever happened to you: I mean, since 7th grade?

• You spend weeks both anxiously and daydreamily anticipating seeing someone you so obviously have a crush on.
• You finally see the object of your crush, and immediately lose all of the most beloved aspects of your personality (intelligence, sense of humor, ability to participate in small talk, basic friendliness–and did I say intelligence?).
• You drink just a little too much wine at dinner since we all know how well alcohol works with loosening up one’s nervousness leading to the oh so wonderful thoughtless verbosity.
• You are 90% certain that said crush is well aware of your discomfort and though he gentlemanly tries to ease your pain, it only serves to make it worse.
• Either that, or he thinks you’re a ditz.
• You spend the evening back in the hotel room both berating yourself for being so stupidly crushed and thanking yourself for not acting out in an even more embarrassing manner while in one’s cups.
• You then blog about said crush hoping to exorcise it from your life, because, really, it’s irrational, immature, utterly unviable, and probably a sure sign of a perimenopausal return to adolescence.

But, I believe that is exactly the definition of a crush.

So, Now What?

I’m far far away from home tonight, enjoying the big city (aka home city)  vibes, despite fighting whatever bug is bugging me and wondering…

• What did happen with Sal and Peggy? (I was hoping for Mad Men reruns on my hotel cable tv, but no, alas, none).
• Why DOES seafood taste so much better when you know it’s fresh than bused in from the coast?
• How does one worry about one’s cat’s peeing when one is trying to focus on BIG professional issues?
• What does one say to a high school friend one hasn’t seen in nearly 20 years (tomorrow’s night’s saga)?
• How does one turn it all off?

Crystals

Forgive me for a non-Friday cat-related posting, but my poor cat, Joey, is at the vet’s tonight because he refuses to pee.  Crystals in the urine, the vet says.  Hubby is as upset as I am–he had to leave the poor kitty there in a cage and that moved him more than he thought it would.  You see, Joey is the kitty who showed up at our house on the day we were married over 7 years ago: he has much sentimental value, in addition to being a hoot as a cat.

We get to pick him up in the morning after he pees, IF he pees.

And I am rushing to get the usual stuff done before flying on Wednesday in the dawn’s early light to another city far, far, away for a 2-day meeting (and 2 days of seeing friends/family). I still need to finish grading essays, teach 2 classes tomorrow, meet with my chair about a thing, meet with some students during office hours, check the weather in this city, and figure out how to pack for 4 days in one carry on.

I’m surprisingly not nearly as stressed as I usually am about such things, which means my stress level is only slightly frantic. Must be that left over cognac.

News Flash

Annie Em won a prize (a pie!) for best costume at the 1960s party: she was wearing a delightful black and white Jackie O dress (with hair flipped, pearls dripping,  big sunglasses on, hand purse carried in long sleeved gloved hands).

Now how does one get the hairspray out of one’s hair?