Starting up again

The holidays are almost past -- and I'm thinking about the new semester ahead of me. It'll be *so* great, with two comp 1 courses (I haven't taught that in a year), two literature courses (American women writers and American lit after 1865), and one intro women/gender studies course.

I should be able to read interesting work, talk about interesting ideas, and engage with interesting students.

The Dojka-Davis Brown Bag Series is starting up again, too: I have five volunteers and need to find three more. We're doing Tuesdays this semester, noon to 1 p.m. I think we'll alternate like that: Mondays and Tuesdays, 12-1 and 1-2. I hope it can keep going.

Officially Break

That's right: it's officially semester break for me. Of course, I have to do a bunch of class prep for Spring Semester (odd how spring starts in January), but for a few days I will be celebrating the winter holidays with friends and family. No grading. Amazing.

All but One

That's what's left for me to grade: just one class. I've submitted final grades for all my other classes. The class that had its final yesterday will have to wait until after the weekend.

Yay!

Too busy grading to blog

But I've finished two classes completely. That's good news. Still need to submit grades, though.

The other classes are in various states of uncompleteness: final essays/projects and final exams to read. Why do I ask for both, do you suppose?

End-of-semester Intimidation

I'm still reeling with suppressed anger/shock at an occurrance in my classroom over two hours ago -- here's what happened:

My WGST course ends at 5:15 on Wednesdays, and then another class is in the same room at 6:00. One student from my class stays in the classroom because she's in the 6:00 class -- it's comp 1, with an adjunct who I know a little bit -- so I don't lock the classroom for the 45 minutes between the classes like the college asks us to do (some things have been stolen from computer classrooms). The student who waits is responsible, and sometimes I'm not even out of the room until 5:30. Sometimes other students from the 6:00 class have come in as we're leaving.

Today, I was still talking with students at 5:30 (it's the end of the semester, lots of questions about individual papers/performance/etc.) when a student from the 6:00 class walked in and up to the table where I and about six other students were standing. It occurred to me to ask him to leave and wait outside for his class to start so that I could talk in relative privacy with my students.

He rudely refused.

I was stunned.

I asked again, tried to reason by explaining that we weren't done, his class didn't start until 6:00, so could he please just wait outside. No.

He escalated the situation, making many defensive claims (he pays tuition! he has a right to be there! my class is over! -- these are just a few of the things he said). Other students are watching, listening, and say things like, "Hey, dude, she's just asking you to wait -- we're still talking" which only eggs him on.

Did I mention that the door to the classroom was closed this whole time? That the student had to let himself into a classroom that had its door closed, a classroom that "technically" is not "his class" until 6:00. Can you say "privilege"?

Anyway, the thing is, this kid knows that our class is a women and gender studies course. The student who waits between my class and his even wrote an essay about her experience trying to educate some of the "vulgar" young males (her word) in her class about what she's studying. She'd been harassed for having our textbook on the table. To this woman's credit she impressively decided to turn that harassment into a "teachable moment" by interviewing four male classmates to find out if they might change their behavior if they knew more about the subject she was studying. I don't know if he's one the students she "interviewed," but she did say to me as she was leaving, "Now you know what I'm talking about in my paper."

So what could I do? I ignored this boy, asked my other students to ignore him ("No, we don't need to talk with him any more") and turned back to the students I was talking with. Another young man enters.

I ask him if he could wait outside until we're done. He starts turning around to leave but then looks to his friend -- who's sitting at a table right behind me getting out his laptop cord, plugging things in, making his presence known. The new boy turns back to me and says simply "No."

The two of them then sit behind me -- the second boy just six inches from my back -- while I continue talking with a student who was having a particularly hard time with an essay revision. The boys don't talk much, but they shuffle papers, pushing them into my field of vision, as they get out their [exceedingly ugly] laptops.

I'm shaking through all of this -- reeling, really -- while trying to listen and advise. Finally, about 5:45, I walk out with the last student. I bring my files back to my office. I realize I've left my textbook and keys back in the classroom. I go back: glare, glare, glare. I then to go the office of my colleague who teaches the 6:00 class, telling him what happened, asking him if he'd be willing to come back to talk with the students. He's surprised, dismayed, and agrees.

Here's the thing: I wanted my colleague to tell these students that I had told him about the experience and then to ask them what happened, perhaps asking them to apologize to me. I wanted the students to see a united professional front to demonstrate that their behavior was exceedingly disrespectful. I wanted to give the students an opportunity to do the right thing.

Of course that didn't happen. The boys got *really* defensive, saying things like, "Oh, so were your feelings hurt? You were rude to me!" My colleague tried to talk with them, even going so far as to say that the classroom space was mine until 6:00 when his class started (they had been insisting that there were there early because " We're responsible, coming to class early because we're prepared" -- other bullshit like that). The boys also got really buddy-buddy with their teacher, using his first name to say, "We've been coming in here early all semester and on the last day she tells us to leave?"

Finally, I turned to my colleague and said, "I guess you're seeing an example of exactly what I was talking about -- here's the evidence." That *really* got one boy incensed: he kept saying things like "Don't talk about me like I'm not here; talk to me if you got something to say; I'm an adult!" Uh huh.

I turned so my colleague and I could leave the room, thanking him again for coming. He was apologetic, sincere, saying he'd email me with the names of the students. I hope so because I talked later with my department chair who thought I handled things well -- but perhaps might want to fill out a form for the Dean of Student Life to put in the students' files. I'm going to do that -- the first student just seemed like he was on such a short fuse. I would imagine he's been intimidating and disrespectful in the past. Our Dean has asked us to report incidents like this one because it provides evidence needed if (or when!) a student needs to be disciplined in some way.

Whew - it's cathartic to write all this, but it also makes me realize how much of the incident I'm forgetting. I need to remember some more specific phrases, things the boys said like "You don't have this room, what time is your class over anyway? You can't tell me to leave. I'm not leaving. You're causing this problem. There was no problem when I came in until you escalated things. You're the one who's making a big deal out of this. You're not telling me what to do." This turning of responsibility is classic abuser behavior -- perfect.

Phrases from the conversation when the other instructor was present: "She was all in my face. There were only a few students in the room so I thought it was over. Only one student was in here. She waits until the last day of the class to tell us this stuff?"

Okay, that's enough now -- wow, police reports must be pretty tough to write! I'm leaving out so many details that contributed to the harassing, intimidating, almost violent atmosphere. And I'm usually a pretty good at noticing details! Tone matters, though, and posture (standing close to me, taller than me).

What a way to wind up the semester -- it's not simply end-of-semester stress. It's a powerful illustration of the power of the patriarchy, of the sexist culture in which we all live.

"This game is well known."

This weekend at an antique mall, I bought a book from 1923 called Four Hundred Games for School, Home, and Playground (Ethel F. Acker, F.A. Owen Publishing Company, Dansville, N.Y.).

I bought it because 1) it was $3.00 and 2) I opened it to page 159 to find a language game called "Composition Relay" that began like this:

"This game is well known. Besides furnishing an exercise in grammatical construction, capitals, and punctuation, it is a good drill in spelling and penmanship."

Hmm, I thought, to whom would this game be well known? What would teaching be like if this game was still well known? Here it is:

"Each row of players forms a team. The last player in each row at a given signal runs forward, writes the first word of a sentence on the blackboard, runs to his seat, and hands the chalk to the next player, who writes the next word. The last player writes a word to complete the sentence and adds the necessary punctuation. The points are usually scored as follows: Speed 25 points, grammatical construction 25, spelling 25, and writing 25. If played during the grammar drill period the score should be: Speed 50, analysis 50. No badly written sentences should be considered."

So I love almost everything about this paragraph:

• the second sentence's parallel structure, which mitigates the overload of prepositional phrases
• the way points are "usually" awarded (imagine having to write legibly in chalk when you're rushing, your teammates are hurrying you)
• the assumption that a "grammar drill period" is usual, well known, common
• the last sentence! It's passive verb is so great
• the fact that students are *moving* in the classroom while they're learning language skills (can you say "kinetic learners"? Howard Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences didn't appear until 60 years later!)
  

How I wish we could reintroduce these physical movements in our classrooms -- at all levels. I like my students to move . . . rearranging them to create sentences ("you're an independent clause, you're a dependent clause, you're a comma -- rearrange yourselves!")

But moving requires space. With federal constraints on education professionals, we end up dropping out these kinds of activities . . . phy ed classes get cut! That's simply unjust, not to mention unwise. Students find a way to move -- often inappropriately.

It should be "well known" that physical activity is essential for learning. Ethel F. Acker says it this way:

"Probably no other single theory in the field of education has made greater progress in the minds of educators and laymen in the past few years than that of the importance of organized play" (11 emphasis added).

Analogies

Or perhaps I should say "metaphors"? These "Internet Vices" make sense to me!