Thoughts While Waiting for Students to Turn in Final Papers

I'm writing from MB-4, the computer lab on campus, where I'm awaiting the arrival of my 10:00 students who will:

a. pick up their graded research essays and research notebooks and
b. drop off their final exam papers

I'm being pretty generous with this final paper. I've asked them to choose one (of the three) graded papers from this semester and revise, using all of the global and sentence-level revision strategies we discussed this semester. They can't merely "correct" errors or make changes based on my original comments. They have to revise using all the new skills they've learned--show off, if you will. Then they need to write an essay discussing the changes they made, justifying and explaining the changes.

I've already read and graded my other class final papers yesterday and believe it or not, I saw some real improvement (they had to turn in the original graded essay, along with their revision and their new essay). 

As I wait for my next set of papers, I'm thinking about a few students in particular.

"N" Wasn't sure about him when the semester began (scattered attendance, rushing in 20 minutes late to class, the kind of guy who, after you've distributed detailed handouts and gone over instructions about assignments or some other important information, comes up to you at the end of class and says, "So, what are we supposed to do again?") Part-way through the semester a light bulb seemed to go on and his papers started sounding a bit more coherent and his work ethic improved. He haggled me about why he got a B or a B- on something, wondered what he could do to raise his grade, re-did at least one paper, and so on. This research paper, however, may have been his undoing--it was a mess. I gave him a generous D.

"M" Somewhat intense guy who chews his nails, his brow always furrowed, really serious. Sometimes will read a novel while I'm talking, even though he's sitting right in the front row. High achiever. Emailed me when he saw he got a C on the research paper and wanted to know what he could do to raise his grade ("I'm going to re-write it an bring to class tomorrow," he told me. "No you're not," I said in so many words, meaning, "Bring it if you want, but I won't re-grade). He's a point or two shy of an A, which I plan on giving him regardless of the C on this paper, unless his final paper is terrible. 

"Z" Had some attendance issues throughout the semester, along with a couple of catastrophes (boyfriend got in an accident, grandfather sick). In early March, she missed 10 class sessions in a row, and then again in April, she missed 5 out of 6 classes. Near the end of the semester, right around the time our research essay was due, her grandfather passed away and she asked if she could turn in her research essay late. I gave her permission to turn it in Monday (5 days past deadline), the week of finals. She didn't show. I just got an email from her (sent last night around midnight, which was the day before final is due, the day before last day of school) asking if I got her paper (I hadn't) which she "handed in" (to whom?) and apologizing for forgetting she had a final on Monday. I replied that I never got her paper and that I'd given her a 0 on the paper. I walked over (just now) to the English department office to retrieve her paper, even though I had no intention of grading it, but it wasn't even there. Where did she "hand it in"? Needless to say, "Z"  will be re-taking English 100

"A" So many things conspired to keep her from attending class this semester. She's an athlete, but she tore her ACL, so she needed surgery. She works to support herself. Her best friend who lived in another state was killed in a drunk-driving accident (the other guy was drunk, slammed into the girl's car broadside), so of course she needed to go to the funeral. She got the flu. She tried to keep up, and may still have managed to pass the class, but as it turns out, she never replied to my emails, didn't come to class on the last day of school to pick up the handout about her final, didn't turn in a final....so she's not passing the class either.

****

"Z" just came and left. She understood and accepts her grade.

"N" arrived in in suit and tie (he will be graduating tonight). He knew he struggled with this paper--no argument. However, he will pass my class and transfer to SDSU in the fall as a junior. Success story. He said he learned a lot in this class.

"M" as expected tried to argue his case for a higher grade ("I thought I wrote a cogent argument"), but I told him not to bother, I wouldn't change his grade. It's a C paper in my book. But he'll get his A in the class.

A few others this semester come to mind: "G," with all her personal family issues. "S," who manages her parents' store and always comes in late because she has to open the shop each morning. "B," struggling to find her writing voice which is constantly interrupted by her native Spanish. "J," who always sat in the back corner, came to class, did his work, and surprised me by turning in what he called "his masterpiece," his research essay, which was, indeed, a masterpiece....

Most will pass, some just barely, some with "flying colors," some won't (where oh where is "P"? This is his third time taking English 100. He struggled with a couple of my papers, but I think he could squeak by with a low C if he only would turn in his final paper. But he didn't come to class this morning to turn it in...where is he?)
 
 Oh well....students in community college...so many stories..so many struggles....

Enjoying La Vida Part-Time!

I'm liking this new schedule. Leaving early (7 a.m.) and teaching back to back classes means getting home by noon. Very nice. Don't have to hassle packing a lunch, avoid the late-day rush hour traffic, relax with the paper for an hour before setting up for next day's class.

And I've decided I'm OK....no, more than OK, with being a part-time instructor. Yes, Yes, I know, I've been griping and grousing and feeling all woe-is-me-ish that I'm nothing and no-one, just a lowly adjunct professor. And yet, when I think about it, I really wouldn't want to teach more than two classes anyway. How do people do it? Unrelenting, merciless, never-ending....woe is they!

And I've also decided I'm really OK with  Thursdays! Yes, Thursdays! No class on Friday, then the weekend. Why think of the things I could do! Maybe go to Nordstroms Rack....maybe try to finish The Poisonwood Bible, maybe post a blog entry, maybe clean a bathroom or two, maybe go to the gym (gasp) in the middle of the day! The possibilities (as they say) are endless.

Nothing wrong with being "just a part-time professor."

Nothing at all.

It's a New Year, It's a New Semester, It's a New Routine!

I feel empowered. I've been having trouble adjusting to my new (Spring 2010) schedule, Monday through Thursday, 8-8:50 a.m. and 10-10:50 a.m. The first few days weren't a problem, though I'm not sure why. Maybe some of the local San Marcos schools hadn't started yet? I managed to leave the house by 7:15 and be at Palomar by 7:35 or so. Plenty of time. That was the first week. The second week, much different. It didn't help that I didn't leave the house (one of those days) until 7:22 (never never never again). Not only did I get hung up on the merge from the 15 to the 78, but then Mission Avenue traffic near the aforementioned schools was a major logjam. It also didn't help that it was raining. I was out of my car, walking to my classroom and wishing I had time to use the restroom when the clock tower chimed 8 times. I arrived 5 minutes late (to a 50 minute class?!) apologizing profusely, still needing to use the restroom, and vowing to all who cared to NEVER BE LATE AGAIN.

That was Monday.

Tuesday (yesterday) and Wednesday (today)....what a difference 10 minutes makes! Tuesday I was backing out of my driveway at 10 after 7. A little traffic on the merge and some on the main streets but I arrived 15 minutes early and parked in Lot 11, which is a stone's throw from my classroom. I was able not only to set up my papers, boot up the computer, and put notes on the board but also managed to sneak away and use the toilet. The only annoying part of the day was leaving campus after my second class. Lot 11 is right in the heart of campus, next to all the construction, and the one-way road leading out (Comet Circle) has been narrowed to a single log-jammed lane. So creeping my way to Mission was the only sour note.

Today was a thing of beauty! I left at 5 after 7, arrived at 7:30, parked in the main lot off Mission, inches from the school, strolled leisurely to the restroom, set up my classroom, chatted with a couple of early-bird students, then sauntered over to the English department to check my mail, and was back in my classroom before half the class had arrived. We started up five minutes early....

 I am EARLY! I am in CONTROL! I am WOMAN! (Hear me roar?)

I am....

This is an email my husband sent me back in July 2007. I held on to it in my in-box for some reason.

I am 53! As I look over my students taking a test, I don't know how much longer I can keep teaching.

After 9 chapters, some students have been successfully molded, others are, shall we say, missing essential connections . . .

Students will only rise about half-way up to the level of the teacher. If the teacher is not too high up in the level of understanding, then the students will not get very far.

Teaching, then, depends on learning by the teacher. Not past learning, but present learning. At some point, the teacher gets too tired to learn. Then, the students stop learning, too.

I think I can take attendance, shuffle papers, and make dumb jokes for a while, but I don't know if I can teach for much longer...

So that's the question: how long can one keep teaching before he's all tapped out? 

Job Distress

I just discovered that I'm part of a new trend. New unemployment figures released this week say that 10% of American workers are unemployed. Apparently this is really bad news ("first time in 26 years!"). But another figure that doesn't get mentioned much is the under-employment rate, which has also reached a new high (17.5%). Underemployment represents people (like me) who want full-time work but have to settle for part-time jobs. This was a new term for me, though not a new concept.

Apparently it's worse in California. Tim Rutten, writing in today's Los Angeles Times ("Jobs Must be Job 1"), says that California, with its $1.6 trillion economy, would be the eighth largest economy in the world if it were an independent country.  Then he writes, "If you aggregate the unemployed with the underemployed, [California's] rate of what you might call job distress is 20%. Think about that: One in five willing workers in the world's eighth-largest economy is without full-time employment."

These are not encouraging words. I knew I was having a tough time even landing interviews for jobs I felt qualified for--in some cases, over-qualified. Now I guess I understand why.  There are just too many of us seeking, applying, praying for the same positions.