Fun day

Today's classes went well -- energetic activities, students invested in what we were learning/doing, jokes and happy faces. I need days like this!

The Engl 90 students were turning in their second polished essays -- and all the prep work they'd done to create those essays (at least a half-dozen pieces of writing). Because they're all such visual folks (they'd already drawn some pictures -- reading someone else's essay about a person of influence and then drawing a picture of that person), I had them do another visual thing with their words:

Wordle

I've talked about it before on this blog because it's just so cool: you paste in any amount of text or the URL for a website, and the software generates a visual image of the words. Bigger words means greater frequency. You can play around with the colors, fonts, sizes, orientations, backgrounds -- even the languages! I told students that I wouldn't be able to read anything other than English - dang!

Oh, and speaking of language translation, today is International Translators' Day [this link has Wordles!]. I learned this from an audience member at Maxine Hong Kingston's talk tonight. And one of my tech writing students decided to give his oral presentation on Monday in Pirate. Yep, it's been a good day.

Anyway, the Engl 90 students loved Wordle; some of them went to other websites and saw what happened. A couple of students realized that if the biggest word on their Wordle was "the," maybe they need to use some sentence variety. Yes!

And now: here's a Wordle of this blog post.

Allegedly Real

This answering machine recording is supposed to be the real message that parents hear when they call a high school in Maroochydore, Queensland, Australia.

Good writers

This semester, I'm teaching English 90 again, a course that's to help students get ready to write college-level writing (whatever that is). The students have so many different kinds of issues when it comes to getting their thoughts down in writing.

Issues range all over the place: from not having thoughts they can clearly articulate . . . to not quite understanding what a sentence is; from not knowing how to read . . . to never having used a computer before; from getting by writing the most banal things to "please the teacher". . . to sharing so much of their lives that I feel pity and awe toward them.

But this semester, I have a couple of the strongest writers I've ever had in that class. These young people are investigating their lives and experiences in a profound, real way. They're connecting what they read to their own lives. They're grappling with complex topics related to literacy, education, identity, and meaning -- topics I think some of my colleagues don't yet grasp!

It's a pleasure to read their work -- sure, it's a bit raggedy when it comes to things like comma use and consistent verb tense. Sure, they randomly veer from first person plural to second person singular back to third person plural. But so what: they're thinking and writing, writing and thinking. I'm lucky to have them in class.

Getting cheerier

I received a lot of feedback on my last post -- primarily on my Facebook page (I sort of forget that I have the two linked). Thanks to everyone who's been sympathizing, strategizing, and listening to me.

Now here's another piece to cheer me up: In a recent Inside Higher Education, the excellent scholar and professor Dennis Baron [ignore the IHE typo of his name in the URL] answers questions about his new book on teaching, writing, technology, and history. The book's called A Better Pencil.

Baron offers a perspective I know but often forget -- that people being what we are (and have been), there is (and has been) more good than bad when it comes to how people teach, learn, and communicate with each other.

I especially like these lines about online education because they reflect my reality:

"But I do see some significant downsides to distance education. . . . I fear that completion rates for many online courses are still disappointingly low, that the quality of much of the education is also lower than what happens in the classroom -- of course I’m thinking about the kinds of courses that I [and] my colleagues teach, ones which don’t require memorization of a body of knowledge but instead call for analysis, speculation, exploration. Courses where reading is intensive, where group discussion produces many insights, and where evaluation can’t be done by machine." (emphasis added)

These are the kinds of courses I value, too, full of the kinds of spontaneous insightful moments that can't be predicted but can only be recognized and cultivated organically by an instructor who's paying attention to all of the people in the room. This instructor knows that "knowledge is socially constructed" and that the room of people s/he's with is a social organism with knowledge-making potential.

The whole interview is good: read it!

Very discouraged

A few college situations are converging to make me feel like I don't belong at this institution any more:

-- continued student complaint about a borderline grade that I have absolutely no reason to cut student a break on: s/he got many, many breaks already during the semester -- my honest attempt to help -- but now I'm feeling as if I should never be "nice" to a student because it will bite me in the butt.

-- department discussion about online courses dominated by [insert adjective here] faculty who have a vested interest in increasing online offerings because the increase will line their own pocketbooks. These are faculty whose "pedagogy" consists of 1) worksheet-type exercises, mostly graded by the software, so they simply have to "design" a course and go the the cabin or of 2) lectures (called "discussions") about topics of interest to said faculty, never bothering to help students understand why such topics might be of interest to the students, who are simply a captive audience.

-- college-wide committee work that serves the programs relatively well but the general education (or "liberal arts") courses/programs very poorly. I've been sitting in meetings listening to colleagues say things like "why can't they think like us?" [okay, not exactly those words], and my [silent] response is, "because what you're doing isn't thinking."

I'm beginning to think our institution isn't about student learning -- defined by me as students actually grappling with the difficult developmental processes that go along with absorbing new information, figuring out how to solve problems that are new, attempting to think for themselves and then articulate that thinking in writing.

Given a new campus-wide initiative, we seem to be about "student retention" (make them happy by giving a good grade so they come back) or more simply "student tuition" (sign up for the classes, pay, and then you have a tiny window for changing your mind and getting your money back -- barely enough time to figure out what kind of class/experience you've entered).

When I first joined this faculty, the institution still had a bit of its old reputation as the premier liberal-arts two-year college, the premier transfer institution. That's gone.

When I first joined, I was eager to make this place a place I wanted to work: joined a ton of committees and initiatives; committed a bunch of psychic and emotional energy. I still do way too much, to a large degree. There's absolutely NO recognition of this kind of commitment by the faculty -- done almost exclusively by the female faculty for no extra monetary compensation of any kind (dollars or reduced course load). It's outrageous.

It's way too early in the semester to feel this way. But I'm about ready to let students pick their own grades, to let me classes out 20 minutes early every day and/or skip a day a week like many of my colleagues, to spend no time commenting on student writing (just slap a good grade), to quit the teaching part of my job. I can still do the entertaining, the one-on-one tutoring, the course design. But why do I really need to teach when it's not valued where I work.

Why?

Update

Well, the keys I lost turned up the next day in the lost-and-found. So I guess I must have lost them somewhere (how's that for an obvious statement). I'm glad my suspicion is unfounded. Now if I could just locate my annotated textbook!!

Klepto Class

I'm beginning to think I have a kleptomaniac in one of my classes. Two very strange things have happened.

Strange thing one:
On the very first day of writing class, Aug. 24, my textbook was missing at the end of class. That's pretty odd since I bring my texts to every class. I thought maybe a student took mine home by mistake, and the mistake would be realized quickly because my text had notes, post-its, bookmarks, paper clips stuck all through it.

No one had my book when I asked on Aug. 26. Two students had dropped the course in the interim, so I suppose one of them could have the book and not know it.

Strange thing two:
Today, my car key went missing from that same writing class. I wore unusual clothes today -- boy's jeans and a t-shirt -- because I was doing a "gender is performance" talk in my women-and-gender-studies course later in the day. I wanted students to notice how differently I was dressed for this class meeting: I've worn skirts every day so far.

As I was walking to my first class, the writing class, I had put my office keys and car key in my jeans pocket, but it felt weird. I remember thinking, "But the point is to carry your keys in your pocket if you're doing masculinity." But I don't remember what I did with the keys after that.

At the end of the first class, which was a wild workshop because students had so many questions about the first essay portfolio they were turning in, I looked for my keys on top of my books -- just my office keys. "Oh, I must have left the car key in the office," I thought, and ran to the restroom for a quick break between classes.

Taught the second class, went back to the office to grade and read, then finally at 7:30 got ready to leave: no keys. Looked everywhere I'd been: no keys. The car's still in the parking lot, so no one's stolen it (which would have been easy since the keyring has an electronic locking/unlocking device), but still I have no car keys.

Luckily, Laura came to get me. Luckily, I have a spare set of keys and a spare car so I can get to work tomorrow.

But it's extremely, extremely weird that two things have gone missing during the same class. What other explanation can there be?