So, it's been about a month since I've written. School has gotten in the way. I think I'm finally starting to get a handle on my schedule, but this whole teaching thing has totally thrown a wrench into my life. Now I have to think about lesson plans and grading papers, in addition to doing the work for the two classes I'm taking. Somehow I managed to register for two of the most challenging classes/professors this semester, and though I keep telling myself to think about all I will have accomplished at the end of the semester, it's hard not to get bogged down by the sheer volume of reading I have to do each week. When you pair that with the teaching, well, I basically feel successful when I'm simply able to tread water.
My students are about what I expected...maybe slightly better than I thought they would be. When it comes to simply writing, they are actually pretty good. The problem is that they are only pretty good when given incredibly directed prompts. Leave them any room for the tiniest amount of creativity, and they freeze with fear, unsure of what exactly they need to do to earn a good grade. This is probably the most depressing part of teaching for me. I'm forced to teach to the assignment and grade. It doesn't really matter how much or what they learn. They simply need to be able to reproduce a very particular type of paper in order to pass the class. Though I wish this weren't the case, I realize that this is the way academia works...particularly at a major state university. It's all about the hurdles and hoops.
Showing posts with label la vie du jour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label la vie du jour. Show all posts
9.21.2008
8.15.2008
One-Minute Papers
The class I'm taking this summer is basically a prep course to tell us what we need to know to successfully teach first-year writing. For the last two weeks of the semester our class is divided into two sections. The first half is our "normal" class. The second half, all incoming TAs join us for our orientation. The powers-that-be decided that this year they'd break it up, rather than make us sit through an eight hour session. Though this is a nice change, I still have to sit through an eight hour session of orientation run by The Graduate School. It's not required but strongly recommended. Giving me an out is not a good idea, because 99 times out of 100...I'll take it and run. If it were really necessary, wouldn't it be required?
So, back to class...
On Tuesday, after we had our first two hours of orientation, the director of the program hands us all a sheet of paper and asks us to write down any questions or comments we have. This was done anonymously to encourage honesty. I believe I wrote one sentence: is this really necessary? Well, the answer to that turned out to be yes.
Cut to the beginning of orientation on Thursday, when the director passes out a seven page, single-spaced, typed document with a list of questions from our one-minute papers with multi-paragraph answers. It takes about 30 seconds of paging through the document for me to discover that apparently not having to sign your name also encourages stupidity: some of the questions were ridiculous. Surprisingly enough, mine was nowhere to be found.
Remember that lovely teaching resource guide that I got in the mail? Well apparently no one else took the time to look at it, because most of the questions were answered in it, too. Yes, another big waste of a tree. And believe it or not, people actually wanted to know what we are supposed to do the first day of class. No, I'm not kidding. It seems several people asked this question. It's as if they've never taken a college class before. Every first class regardless of subject always starts off the same way. The teacher introduces him/herself. Then goes around the room and gives the students the chance to do the same, often with instructions about what specific information to provide. (We talked about this before...it's where those inappropriate questions come in.) Then the teacher goes through the syllabus, focusing on course objectives and course policies. And then, if you're lucky, the teacher let's you go early. There might be some variation, but generally speaking: this is the way it goes. It's easy and straightforward, but apparently not for everyone.
People also asked what they should wear to class. Well, clothes is a good start. (Yes, I'm a smart ass.) I read this question, and literally laughed out loud. It doesn't really matter what you wear...what matters is how you present yourself. This isn't a job on Wall Street, but we're not working at Taco Bell either. You wear what you're comfortable in. If that's a suit then go for it, but be prepared for merciless ridicule by your students outside of class. There's nothing worse than a TA that takes him/herself too seriously. I can picture some of them now...planning their outfits for the first week, something I haven't done in twenty years.
The fact that my classmates need clarification on this subject is slightly disturbing. If they don't have enough commonsense to figure out what is appropriate attire or that the first day of class is for introductions and going over the syllabus, then how in the hell are they going to deal with cheaters, back-talkers, skippers, plagiarizers, and liars? Asking the program coordinator what to do isn't really an option when you're in the middle of class. Having her hold your hand through your first week of class is really going to mess with your attempt to establish ethos by wearing suits all the time. (There will be more on ethos at a later date, because it's a term I hear at least 20 times per class. I'm past the point of cringing, but I still roll my eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's important, but the way we talk about it makes it seem like the holy grail.)
Anyway...people keep asking me if I'm nervous about teaching. The funny thing is that the longer I'm in this class, the less nervous I become. Probably because I'm surrounded my people freaking out about what to wear and attendance policies. Being in a classroom of nervous nellies who will undoubtedly attempt to plan everything down to the smallest detail has erased any anxiety I had. Maybe it's because I've realized something they have yet to discover: you can plan as much as you want, but things never go as anticipated. Some of them will discover that sooner then others. I only wish I could be a fly on the wall when the shit hits the fan, and they think it's happened because today was the day they wore ripped jeans.
So, back to class...
On Tuesday, after we had our first two hours of orientation, the director of the program hands us all a sheet of paper and asks us to write down any questions or comments we have. This was done anonymously to encourage honesty. I believe I wrote one sentence: is this really necessary? Well, the answer to that turned out to be yes.
Cut to the beginning of orientation on Thursday, when the director passes out a seven page, single-spaced, typed document with a list of questions from our one-minute papers with multi-paragraph answers. It takes about 30 seconds of paging through the document for me to discover that apparently not having to sign your name also encourages stupidity: some of the questions were ridiculous. Surprisingly enough, mine was nowhere to be found.
Remember that lovely teaching resource guide that I got in the mail? Well apparently no one else took the time to look at it, because most of the questions were answered in it, too. Yes, another big waste of a tree. And believe it or not, people actually wanted to know what we are supposed to do the first day of class. No, I'm not kidding. It seems several people asked this question. It's as if they've never taken a college class before. Every first class regardless of subject always starts off the same way. The teacher introduces him/herself. Then goes around the room and gives the students the chance to do the same, often with instructions about what specific information to provide. (We talked about this before...it's where those inappropriate questions come in.) Then the teacher goes through the syllabus, focusing on course objectives and course policies. And then, if you're lucky, the teacher let's you go early. There might be some variation, but generally speaking: this is the way it goes. It's easy and straightforward, but apparently not for everyone.
People also asked what they should wear to class. Well, clothes is a good start. (Yes, I'm a smart ass.) I read this question, and literally laughed out loud. It doesn't really matter what you wear...what matters is how you present yourself. This isn't a job on Wall Street, but we're not working at Taco Bell either. You wear what you're comfortable in. If that's a suit then go for it, but be prepared for merciless ridicule by your students outside of class. There's nothing worse than a TA that takes him/herself too seriously. I can picture some of them now...planning their outfits for the first week, something I haven't done in twenty years.
The fact that my classmates need clarification on this subject is slightly disturbing. If they don't have enough commonsense to figure out what is appropriate attire or that the first day of class is for introductions and going over the syllabus, then how in the hell are they going to deal with cheaters, back-talkers, skippers, plagiarizers, and liars? Asking the program coordinator what to do isn't really an option when you're in the middle of class. Having her hold your hand through your first week of class is really going to mess with your attempt to establish ethos by wearing suits all the time. (There will be more on ethos at a later date, because it's a term I hear at least 20 times per class. I'm past the point of cringing, but I still roll my eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's important, but the way we talk about it makes it seem like the holy grail.)
Anyway...people keep asking me if I'm nervous about teaching. The funny thing is that the longer I'm in this class, the less nervous I become. Probably because I'm surrounded my people freaking out about what to wear and attendance policies. Being in a classroom of nervous nellies who will undoubtedly attempt to plan everything down to the smallest detail has erased any anxiety I had. Maybe it's because I've realized something they have yet to discover: you can plan as much as you want, but things never go as anticipated. Some of them will discover that sooner then others. I only wish I could be a fly on the wall when the shit hits the fan, and they think it's happened because today was the day they wore ripped jeans.
8.13.2008
Life or something like it
I'm surprised I have anything left to say. Between school, family, and friends, I feel like all I do is talk, text, email, Gchat, AIM, Yahoo Chat, Facebook, MySpace, etc. I've never been much for keeping journals or writing down personal thoughts, but here goes nothing.
I start teaching in about three weeks. I will walk into a classroom with 22 students, mostly freshmen, and be expected to teach them how to "write more effectively."
This should be interesting.
I'm not worried about my students liking me, because I honestly don't care. I'm not going to spend time fretting over whether or not they're learning as much as they could or should. And, I'm definitely not going into this with high expectations. Call me a cynic, or a pessimist, or whatever you may, but I know how it works.
For the most part, my students will be there because they have to be there. The majors have most likely tested out of the course, which will leave me with a bunch of business, science, and engineering majors, who don't think writing is important. This is the generation that abbreviates everything. I still text full words, unless I need to save space so I don't go over the 160 character limit. I've recently started to relax a bit about IMing. I no longer need to write full sentences, capitalize or punctuate correctly, and I think I've started down the slippery slope of I'm not sure what...but I am pretty sure it's not a good thing. Regardless, my class will be full of people who are undoubtedly going to say, "I'm never going to need to know how to write a rhetorical argument again." I wish I could get paid every time I hear it, because my paltry graduate student stipend isn't going to pay for all my bad habits...and I'm confident I'll hear it a lot.
So, anyway, in class today we spent about thirty minutes talking about civic engagement. What is civic engagement? Funny you should ask, because I had the exact same question. I'm scrolling through the rolodex of possibilities in my head and finally decide that they must just be talking very generally about knowing what's going on around you. What exactly was the point of this discussion? Another great question, that I, too, sat there and wondered about for a good ten minutes. Civic engagement is what we're supposed to center our class around...it's the class "theme" if you will. I thought to myself, let me get this straight. I'm going to be teaching a bunch of 18 year olds, who don't really want to be there, how to write by talking to them about a term they won't understand or care to understand.
Brilliant!
I've lost them before I walk in the door, and now you're telling me that I'll spend at least the first week trying to explain to them what the hell civic engagement is and why they should care. I don't know about you, but most college freshmen (not that I know many, but I do have a good memory) couldn't care less about anything but what they have to do to pass the class, how they can get alcohol, and getting laid. This is their first foray into the real world, away from the shackles of their parents, and I'm not only supposed to teach them how to write well, but now I'm being required to instill in them a desire to be good citizens and give a shit that Russia is bombing Georgia (the country not the state), that the presidential election is STILL going on, that our economy is tanking, that our health care system desperately needs attention, and that we're still in this ridiculous war with no end in sight.
Thankfully, I'm a smut queen and love to read the gossip blogs and trashy magazines, and watch mind-melting reality television. So, maybe they'll walk away caring about who is on the cover of US Weekly, whether Britney Spears has had another meltdown, who Lindsay Lohan is sleeping with these days, and if Katie Holmes has admitted that her marriage to Tom Cruise is a sham.
But, hey, at least I'm teaching them something.
I start teaching in about three weeks. I will walk into a classroom with 22 students, mostly freshmen, and be expected to teach them how to "write more effectively."
This should be interesting.
I'm not worried about my students liking me, because I honestly don't care. I'm not going to spend time fretting over whether or not they're learning as much as they could or should. And, I'm definitely not going into this with high expectations. Call me a cynic, or a pessimist, or whatever you may, but I know how it works.
For the most part, my students will be there because they have to be there. The majors have most likely tested out of the course, which will leave me with a bunch of business, science, and engineering majors, who don't think writing is important. This is the generation that abbreviates everything. I still text full words, unless I need to save space so I don't go over the 160 character limit. I've recently started to relax a bit about IMing. I no longer need to write full sentences, capitalize or punctuate correctly, and I think I've started down the slippery slope of I'm not sure what...but I am pretty sure it's not a good thing. Regardless, my class will be full of people who are undoubtedly going to say, "I'm never going to need to know how to write a rhetorical argument again." I wish I could get paid every time I hear it, because my paltry graduate student stipend isn't going to pay for all my bad habits...and I'm confident I'll hear it a lot.
So, anyway, in class today we spent about thirty minutes talking about civic engagement. What is civic engagement? Funny you should ask, because I had the exact same question. I'm scrolling through the rolodex of possibilities in my head and finally decide that they must just be talking very generally about knowing what's going on around you. What exactly was the point of this discussion? Another great question, that I, too, sat there and wondered about for a good ten minutes. Civic engagement is what we're supposed to center our class around...it's the class "theme" if you will. I thought to myself, let me get this straight. I'm going to be teaching a bunch of 18 year olds, who don't really want to be there, how to write by talking to them about a term they won't understand or care to understand.
Brilliant!
I've lost them before I walk in the door, and now you're telling me that I'll spend at least the first week trying to explain to them what the hell civic engagement is and why they should care. I don't know about you, but most college freshmen (not that I know many, but I do have a good memory) couldn't care less about anything but what they have to do to pass the class, how they can get alcohol, and getting laid. This is their first foray into the real world, away from the shackles of their parents, and I'm not only supposed to teach them how to write well, but now I'm being required to instill in them a desire to be good citizens and give a shit that Russia is bombing Georgia (the country not the state), that the presidential election is STILL going on, that our economy is tanking, that our health care system desperately needs attention, and that we're still in this ridiculous war with no end in sight.
Thankfully, I'm a smut queen and love to read the gossip blogs and trashy magazines, and watch mind-melting reality television. So, maybe they'll walk away caring about who is on the cover of US Weekly, whether Britney Spears has had another meltdown, who Lindsay Lohan is sleeping with these days, and if Katie Holmes has admitted that her marriage to Tom Cruise is a sham.
But, hey, at least I'm teaching them something.
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