Adventures With Students, Vol. 45

The student who got so incandescently angry at me last December, when she received a dreaded B in my class, admitted as much to me today (she is taking another from me this term). She is a fine student, and a sharp thinker when she chooses to focus. I have no doubt that she has the intelligence to receive an "A" in every class she takes, but I also know that she relies on her talent too much and, frankly, presumed too much.  I may have a casual friendship with her, but I also know that sooner or later that friendship and my duty to her as a professor must come into conflict. As it did last month.

I did not apologize. Probably best that the tension remains, even if it makes me a little sad.

Monday Update, Primrose Path Edition

I have been spending an awful lot of time this past week trying to help people avoid some of the consequences of their own choices. To wit: there is a woman with whom I'm working that cannot seem to let anything happen that isn't in her direct control. I tried telling her today that this approach is killing her (which it is), but I know she won't listen.

I could give myself similar advice, albeit on a slightly different topic. I wouldn't listen either.

I have a major leave application due by Friday. I feel like Don Music.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 44

Student comment of the week.

Adventures With Students, Vol. 43

A partial list of the types of students I have observed in my classes and interactions so far:

1.  The Bitchy Girl.  There is one in particular that specializes in exaggerated eye rolls, sighs, and "OMG" expressions.  She tried to charm me when she asked a question about her essay, but it was a barely competent performance. She thinks she is too cool for me.  I'm fine with her to believe that.

2.  The Passive-Aggressive Feminine Bully. I am working with a publication staff, and the three executive staff members have each come to me separately with complaints.  For two of them, it's a complaint that the third basically bullies them. And for the third, it's that the other two don't do things they way they should (she has of course never discussed this problem with them).  The problem is, this has been festering for about a year, so the resentments have sunk deep, twisted roots.

3.   The Lazy Jokester.  Everyone likes to have a good time, and I'm sure glad he is down with that. I am apt to make a few humorous asides myself, so I can hardly complain if others follow the example I've set. I hope that Mister Lazy Jokester finds a more . . . useful . . . way to channel his energy.

4.  The Whovian Girls.  Apparently, since Doctor Who is the big-time nerd badge of honor these days, it is a big deal that I have been watching.  I am tolerant of these things--after all, I do regularly refer to Mel Brooks films, The Princess Bride, Monty Python, Star Wars, Star Trek, The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, Narnia, and other cultural signifiers clearly marking me as one of their tribe.  But I do not care to voice an opinion on whether Tennant or Smith (or Eccleston for that matter) is "better."

5.  The Earnest Guy Who Reminds Me of Me When I Was His Age.

6.  The Reticent But Cool Bearded Guy Who Is Who I Wanted To Be When I Was His Age.

7.  The NTWN Hipster (sad trombone noise)

8.  The Male Athlete Who Bucks The Stereotype.

9.  The Very Intelligent Young Woman Who Will Say Nothing.

10.  The Slightly Unbalanced Guy Who Told Me Today In All Seriousness That He Is A Man of Honor, Like A Knight. In Fact, Like Lancelot, Only He Is Not "Bloody French." 

This last one gets an extra response:

An anatomy of absurdities, poor Tom's a-cold edition

The picture represents the night-time activities of Senior Kitty in our house. At 1:00 this morning, he started miaowing and then made quite a scuffling racket as he pounced and mauled a mouse. It was not quite dead when we woke up this morning. I have no idea why he has taken up mousing at 10 years of age, but he has. I didn't know he could do it...he hasn't shown hunting aptitude in the past!

I inadvertently heard an earful the other day, and I wish I hadn't. A colleague began complaining to another sitting out in the common room/lounge...a long stream of grievances involving people all over campus. Academics complaining is not exactly unheard-of; but when she began spreading around blame and fault for things that are clearly issues of choice (and the outcomes thereof)...it gets hard to listen to. If we as a group have a besetting fault, the tendency to blame others in the "system" for our own poor outcomes is a strong candidate.

I left not caring if I ever go back.

I went back today. Of course.

I am also having to serve as advisor to a creative writing magazine. Long story. But what has happened is that the two editors--one a poet, a bohemian, an artist; the other an editor, a technocrat, a grinder. Ne'er the twain shall meet. How to respect both women while pushing them to compromise in ways that go against their natural inclinations? Have they had a frank conversation with each other about their differences? Of course not.

Some days are like this

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Monday Update, long weekend edition

It used to be that the semester would start right after MLK day, but for some reason that was seen to cause problems with the semester schedule, so we get this long weekend after basically a week of classes.  I am not one to complain about the way schedules work out, but some of my colleagues do not like it even a little bit. But then, I imagine that there's nothing that completely satisfy them.

So far, the teaching appears to be fine. Two full classes of second-semester freshmen will test my fortitude, but in a good way:  most of them are pretty smart. Even the one who is doing her best to let me know that she is not impressed with my goofy persona.

Everything else is falling into a pretty reasonable pattern:  The Runner is training for another half-marathon and also has me working out with her at the gym a couple of days a week--circuit training, which is a new thing for me.  Lefty has decided that he has all sorts of things to say and that he is not to be trifled with.  Little Red is still climbing into bed with me in the middle of the night every night. Number One Son is full of vim & vigor, and is especially enjoying the scatological humor he should be enjoying at this stage (even if it dismays his mother).

All three of them are really enjoying the Lego toys a great deal more since we've had them all out and readily available.  Actually, The Runner and Little Red ended up sorting almost all of them by color last week, which is really something to see now that they've finished.

I'm not feeling great, so I'm not especially inclined to write much.  But I do get an eye exam tomorrow and can hopefully get a new pair of glasses. I expect that they will look much like the old pair of glasses, only without the feature where they detach easily at the nose piece.

In which Piers realizes he may have a problem

The book situation in here is getting out of hand. And that's even without Little Red taking up space.

Adventures with Students, Vol. 42

This student is a very bright young woman.

It is a banality, and a truism, and probably doesn't even need to be said. But sometimes life crushes our plans in heartbreaking ways.

Hump day Humor, Lego edition

Conversation between Little Red and Lefty while playing with lego men:

LR: are you my father?

L: yeeeyah

LR: how can you be my father? Your bones are too white. You like a Chinese man. But you're not because you're a Lego man.


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Monday Update, Meeting the Students Edition

Looks like it's about time for new spectacles.

So the semester begins with me teaching three days a week rather than five. This is a change from my usual regimen, especially with the twist (for me) of a class that meets really late in the day. The easy thing about spring semesters is that I know most of the students already, so in many ways I can pick up and start working at a much faster pace than otherwise.

For the first time in eight years, I am not teaching a british lit survey. Feels weird.

Lefty is nearing age three, and the closer he gets, the more he exhibits the kind of belligerence and moodiness that drives The Runner absolutely crazy. She readily admits that she doesn't like three year olds. He is, however, cooperating remarkably well in Operation No More Thumb-sucking.  Because of said Operation, we are probably at the end of his afternoon naps (considering that he has kept the nap up for months and months longer than his brothers, it was probably time).

Little Red is having a growth spurt, we think. His typical breakfast is something like two waffles, two eggs, a bowl of cereal . . . and then a snack of fruit an hour later. And then there's the constant refrain of "but I'm even hungrier" pretty much all day long. And then the energy . . . good heavens.

Number One Son has re-accustomed himself to the demands of the school day, for the most part. He is also enjoying his basketball practices, though he is showing all the athletic prowess that his father has historically shown, poor guy. He looks so little and awkward out there. But he has a great time, he says.

Winter in NWTN is unpleasant in just about every possible way. It's either muggy and too warm for the season, or it's cold without being cold enough for snow (which, when it falls even in negligible amounts, disrupts everything . . . just this evening, there were events cancelled because of the possibility of wintry mix . . . which of course did not fall). It's brown and grey and muddy and windy.  Thank heaven for things like warm houses and good company.

And thank heaven for The Hobbit, which we're finally reading as a family. Probably not for the last time.

Thank heaven also for the circuit training class The Runner and I are participating in. It is part of her attempt to help me with my mental health during a time of year when I'm easily put into a grey funk. The benefits are beginning to stack up already, and I'm only now in week four.

From this week's reading

Perhaps in answer to the question, "why read and study?"

For the mind and memory are more sharply exercised in comprehending another man's things, than our own; and such as accustom themselves and are familiar with the best authors, shall ever and anon find somewhat of them in themselves, and in their expression of their minds, even when they feel it not; be able to utter something like theirs, which hath an authority above their own.

--Ben Jonson, Discoveries.

In which Piers has yet another first day of class

1.  I did not give the students the "come to Jesus" speech. I ran out of time before I could rant out of time (ha! ha!).

2.  The break between 12 and 2 is going to be a hard one for work . . . I can already tell that focus is going to be a major issue.

3.  I have a student from last term who is with me again, and determined to be mad at me for the B she received. She was laughing in spite of herself, though.

4.  Though I had many visitors yesterday, when I had no classes to meet, today I've not had a single one.

5.  Meeting the first day of class is always a delicate (or in my case, not so delicate) balance (or mash-up) of friendliness and demonstrating that I mean business.  The good thing is, I guess, that I'm a known quantity to most of these students, either by experience or reputation.

6.  I really am planning to do some things differently this term. We shall see how successful I am at actually making any changes. I have come to accept that any change in behavior, at least when it comes to me and how I do my work and home life, is ridiculously slow, and often tentative at best.

7.  One thing I have been successful at so far since returning from the Christmas break:  I am barely on Facebook anymore. And I am finding that I miss it less and less the longer I'm away from it. That's progress, right?

Adventures with Students, Vol. 41

The first day of a new term.  Before noon I had five visitors to my office. I am not teaching on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which means that I'm going to have to be very deliberate about hiding myself when I don't really need to be available.

Weighing the value of giving my upper level students The Speech tomorrow--the one wherein I say that it's no longer true that getting a degree is enough. The one wherein I say that the habit of doing the bare minimum and relying on the kindness and indulgence of those to whom they are responsible is a dangerous one and will not serve them well now or afterward. The one wherein I say that if they want to benefit from this time, they are going to have to read more, write more, focus more, expend more energy than their peers, provide more than is required in every case.

If it doesn't come out tomorrow, it's going to come out soon. I don't want to browbeat them, but I do want them to understand the difference between trusting them voluntarily to make their own constructive decisions and allowing them latitude to half-ass everything yet expect to be rewarded.

Hump day humor

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In which Piers does not miss some things

put this in your pipe and smoke it, Piers.

1.  Facebook.  I am keeping an active profile, but whereas I used to interact with it all day, and spend a good amount of time staying updated on various and sundry people/things, I am restricting my posts to it and barely reading it at all.  Things turned sour last year as the election season dragged on, but the straw that broke the camel's back was the CT school shooting and all the remarkably thoughtless, ill-informed, overly emotional, and even dishonest things posted about it. I hoped that most would choose to remain silent in the face of such sorrow and depravity.  I was wrong.  The effect in many cases is like listening to a person at a bar who has had too many and is just shouting whatever comes to his or her head. I've had enough.  Plus, I really dislike the way the company runs its business.

2.  Twitter.  Ditto.  Following people became a chore.

3.  Following college sports.  I keep an eye out and enjoy watching football still, and was gratified to see that my prediction for the BCS title game was borne out. Otherwise, though: it adds almost nothing to my enjoyment of life and does a great deal to upset my peace of mind. And don't get me started on the distorting effect of ESPN and its affiliated channels. I will enjoy attending games at my current institution, but I don't watch the stuff on TV nor do I follow the websites like I used to. This isn't a moral or ethical stand of any sort; I just don't get pleasure out of it like I once did.

4. NPR. Haven't listened to it in years (and you'll note that NPR aficionados don't listen to "the radio," even though that's what they're doing). I don't feel the least bit deprived.

...

What I do miss most of all:

1. Time to read.

Monday Update, Grandparent Hangover Edition

The Runner and I are playing through this one.

**Yesterday's sermon began a long series on The End Times.  I detected a distinct Left Behind flavor in what was being taught, and was more than a little distressed at the definitive attitude of the preacher--i.e., "this is the way it's going to be."  I don't mistrust the pastor's character, but I'm pretty sure he needs to study for another 10-20 years before I'll trust him to take on something like that.  It's going to be a long series, both in terms of time and in terms of the patience required to sit through it.  Don't know that I'm going to make it, actually.

**It was a bad sign when he began the sermon with a reference to how "everyone" was in a panic about the Mayan Apocalypse.  I thought, "huh?? maybe a few wackos, but everyone??"

**The first week of the year is kinda strange; the children are in holiday hangover and kinda cooped up because of the cold weather outside.  So, they go crazy all over the house. We try to keep them busy, and they have plenty of new things to occupy their attention, but still.  It will be a relief when, as of 7:00 tomorrow morning, everyone is off to their usual Tuesday locations.

**The Parental Lego Challenge:  allow the children to mangle/destroy/lose all the cool pieces and cool models because, after all, the Lego Building Blocks are theirs, not mine.  Better for them to do it their way.

**The Runner and The Mutt have come to a kind of agreement:  The Runner will run, and The Mutt will run with her, or else she will go absolutely nuts and tear around the house yelping for twenty minutes.  This is what happened on Saturday when The Runner went for a 9-miler with her friend and did NOT take The Mutt.  It was quite a performance. Almost a tantrum, really. She could not understand why she didn't get to go. In related news, she is tearing up the finish on the door leading to the garage. When/if we sell this house, that will have to be replaced.  Sigh.

**I have an entirely new schedule this term with an unusual set of responsibilities, and a couple of big time projects waiting to be completed within a few weeks. I am also revamping one of my core courses.  Timing may not have been the best, but oh well.

**Last night, we began the project of breaking Lefty from his thumb-sucking habit. The dentist advised us that it is time. So The Runner stuck a sock on his right hand and taped it in place. He didn't make a peep about it, but in a sweet moment, Number One Son and Little Red each donned a right hand sock in solidarity.

**This past week, the two older boys watched some important films:  Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, The Return of the Jedi, and . . . The Muppet Movie.

From this week's reading

My God, I heard this day,
That none doth build a stately habitation,
But he that means to dwell therein.
What house more stately hath there been,
Or can be, then is Man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.

For Man is ev’ry thing,
And more: He is a tree, yet bears no fruit;
A beast, yet is, or should be more:
Reason and speech we onely bring.
Parrats may thank us, if they are not mute,
They go upon the score.

Man is all symmetrie,
Full of proportions, one limbe to another,
And all to all the world besides:
Each part may call the farthest, brother:
For head with foot hath private amitie,
And both with moons and tides.

Nothing hath got so farre,
But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey.
His eyes dismount the highest starre:
He is in little all the sphere.
Herbs gladly cure our flesh; because that they
Finde their acquaintance there.

For us the windes do blow,
The earth doth rest, heav’n move, and fountains flow.
Nothing we see, but means our good,
As our delight, or as our treasure:
The whole is, either our cupboard of food,
Or cabinet of pleasure.

The starres have us to bed;
Night draws the curtain, which the sunne withdraws;
Musick and light attend our head.
All things unto our flesh are kinde
In their descent and being; to our minde
In their ascent and cause.

Each thing is full of dutie:
Waters united are our navigation;
Distinguished, our habitation;
Below, our drink; above, our meat;
Both are our cleanlinesse. Hath one such beautie?
Then how are all things neat?

--Geo. Herbert, "Man"


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Educating the Children

There has been a lot of this stuff at my house this week, including the first viewings of Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back.


Of course, there was already a pretty good familiarity with the material, thanks to this:





And this:








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Adventures with Students, Vol. 40

The end of a semester is always a time of being racked by bouts of self-doubt, though it usually turns out that I've done a bit better with my students than my self-criticism initially allows. This past semester, however, I will admit that I seemed to have some trouble getting students to understand my writing assignments.  I work hard on them to make sure that they don't give too much of a point by point road map but still allow the students enough direction to feel like they can be successful.  It is a delicate balance, and I know I'm not perfect at it. 

One of the recent trends in comments from students (and all of them have come from young women--not sure why that is) that they are usually good writers but they don't know what I want in an essay. A couple of students this past term really let me have it in the course evaluation, claiming that I was "mean, intolerant and testy" when meeting about papers in my office, and that I was impossible to please because I didn't want them to summarize plot yet I also wanted them to include details.  Needless to say, they did not get the A's they were expecting. Sigh.

The "mean" and "intolerant" comments don't bother me, but they are surprising. I've never been called either of those things before. Enthusiastic and unfocused, yes. All the time.  Can't please everyone, I guess.

Hump Day Humor

Courtesy of one of my course evaluations:

Dr. Hill has nice hair. You don't often see a man of his age with such full luxurious hair. The touch of gray add a George Clooneyish aire of class and dignity that Hill makes his own. The short cut says "I mean business." (And the business is Shakespeare).