Back from a three-day trip to see Grad School Trivia Buddy married off. It was quite awesome and fabulous and resulted in my teaching Dante this afternoon on next to no sleep (the class, fortunately, went better than it really had a right to do).
The Beloved Alma Mater is roughly on the way to GSTB's home town, so I spent a couple of hours wandering around campus. The last time I was there was in February, about a year and a half ago; I remember wandering around the English building, getting all sentimental about the chipping paint on the stair railings and feeling like nothing had changed, until I happened to glance into a classroom. Five rows of students, all tap-tap-tapping on their laptops. You can't go home again.
The classrooms are empty in the summer. I stood, for a moment, at the front of Room 215, scene of a conversation with Freshman Shakespeare Prof (by then Sophomore Epic & Romance Prof) that may have changed my life. He wandered into class five minutes late, explaining that he'd just been teaching American Lit, and asked (rhetorically, I'm sure) how you could get from The Scarlet Letter to the Odyssey in ten minutes. And since I was the sort of irritating student who answered rhetorical questions, I thought of a way, and shyly sidled up after class to tell him about it. We talked. He asked if I'd ever considered grad school. Click.
I glanced at FSP's old office, empty now that he's in phased retirement. No books on the shelves; no ancient Doonesbury cartoons about grade inflation on the door. It seemed drained of personality.
The Medievalist wasn't around either, although his office -- in one of the outbuildings on the oldest part of the campus -- looked reassuringly occupied. For a long glorious autumn in my senior year, his Early Celtic Literature class met on a patch of grass in front of the office; I think of him whenever I hold class outdoors. I left a note. We haven't talked since MLA 2005, and I'm feeling like that's too long.
And so, back on the road.
Grad School Trivia Buddy gave terrific and exhausting parties even when we were impoverished grad students, so it didn't surprise me that she and her family pulled out all the stops for her wedding. I count five parties in slightly over forty-eight hours, not counting the wedding itself. Whew. (How AWESOME is it that they had a pig-pickin' for the reception? I have been jonesing for good barbecue since I don't know when. Mmm, pig.) Somewhere in between all that we even got in a wee-hours-of-the-morning trivia game, which I won, although it was hard-fought indeed.
I miss grad school. I didn't think I was going to miss it that much, because it took me way too long to finish, and by then I was a little sick of feeling like I was waiting for my life to start, and besides, most of my friends had scattered across the country. I guess what I really miss is having a steady group of friends who were up for late nights of drinking and intensely competitive board gaming, which just doesn't seem to happen as much in the world of Grown-Up Faculty. Or maybe it does, and I just haven't met the right people yet. But anyway, it was great to see these people, even if they keep doing crazy things like getting married, and having babies. (The other thing I discovered over the weekend is that while babies and toddlers are very cute, I'm really rather glad that all of them belong to somebody else. It generally takes me about thirty minutes in their presence to go from "ooh, I want a baby" to "ick, that is a lot of spit.")
How was everyone else's weekend?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Lecture Guilt
The summer class is starting to settle into a rhythm. In-class writing, giving background on the reading, pointing out highlights of the reading, occasional interludes of period music or art, break, pointing out more interesting stuff about the reading, handing back the in-class writings and telling the students about all the smart insightful stuff the other students said, the occasional YouTube clip (here, have some animated Sir Gawain!), background about the next set of readings.
What's missing? Oh, yeah. They don't talk. Well, two of them talk, but one of them has four young children and has to be absent a fair bit of the time (all for bona fide emergencies, so I don't want to dock points), and it's pretty hard to carry on a discussion with one student and the instructor. I've called on some of the others out of the blue when I know for sure they have something to say, but I dislike putting students on the spot -- it's worse than useless if the student doesn't have something to say, and I cherish the illusion that class discussion ought to be free and voluntary. Paired or small-group activities have sometimes worked and sometimes flopped spectacularly. So I end up lecturing a lot.
I feel guilty about this. I'm not sure whether I ought to feel guilty. I mean yeah, I believe in the Virtues of Active Learning and all that jazz, but I also believe in Engaging Different Learning Styles and Responding to the Needs of Individual Students and Classes, and maybe this class has decided that their preferred learning style is listening quietly. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Then again, maybe there is -- we're here to teach skills, after all, not just content, and it's hard to learn these skills without using them. Then again, maybe there isn't; they do write in class, every class, so it's not like they're starved for a chance to do literary analysis in practice. And some students, apparently, like lecture and think they learn most effectively from it, to the point of asking for more of it on the course evals; who am I to tell them they are wrong?
Behind it all is a stubborn conviction that I must be doing something wrong if people don't want to talk -- because when I didn't want to talk, it was nearly always a sign that the professor was doing something wrong. This, of course, is silly, since they're not me; some are from cultures (or majors) where silence and deference are the rule, some are just shy. Still. I keep thinking about my least favorite professors in college: the one who never did anything but summarize the readings; the one who looked up at the class every now and then with a bone-dry "Would ... anybody ... care ... to ... comment ... on ... that?" (of course, nobody ever did); the one who asked the class to vote on whether they preferred lecture or discussion on the first day, but who really only welcomed comments when they allowed him to make the point that he knew everything about the topic and we knew nothing. I hope I'm not falling into one or more of those traps.
Anyway. Lecture Guilt. Excuse me, I must find some pretty pictures and music to illustrate tomorrow's lecture.
What's missing? Oh, yeah. They don't talk. Well, two of them talk, but one of them has four young children and has to be absent a fair bit of the time (all for bona fide emergencies, so I don't want to dock points), and it's pretty hard to carry on a discussion with one student and the instructor. I've called on some of the others out of the blue when I know for sure they have something to say, but I dislike putting students on the spot -- it's worse than useless if the student doesn't have something to say, and I cherish the illusion that class discussion ought to be free and voluntary. Paired or small-group activities have sometimes worked and sometimes flopped spectacularly. So I end up lecturing a lot.
I feel guilty about this. I'm not sure whether I ought to feel guilty. I mean yeah, I believe in the Virtues of Active Learning and all that jazz, but I also believe in Engaging Different Learning Styles and Responding to the Needs of Individual Students and Classes, and maybe this class has decided that their preferred learning style is listening quietly. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Then again, maybe there is -- we're here to teach skills, after all, not just content, and it's hard to learn these skills without using them. Then again, maybe there isn't; they do write in class, every class, so it's not like they're starved for a chance to do literary analysis in practice. And some students, apparently, like lecture and think they learn most effectively from it, to the point of asking for more of it on the course evals; who am I to tell them they are wrong?
Behind it all is a stubborn conviction that I must be doing something wrong if people don't want to talk -- because when I didn't want to talk, it was nearly always a sign that the professor was doing something wrong. This, of course, is silly, since they're not me; some are from cultures (or majors) where silence and deference are the rule, some are just shy. Still. I keep thinking about my least favorite professors in college: the one who never did anything but summarize the readings; the one who looked up at the class every now and then with a bone-dry "Would ... anybody ... care ... to ... comment ... on ... that?" (of course, nobody ever did); the one who asked the class to vote on whether they preferred lecture or discussion on the first day, but who really only welcomed comments when they allowed him to make the point that he knew everything about the topic and we knew nothing. I hope I'm not falling into one or more of those traps.
Anyway. Lecture Guilt. Excuse me, I must find some pretty pictures and music to illustrate tomorrow's lecture.
Monday, June 30, 2008
man, these three-hour classes are rough on the throat...
Owwwww. I bought throat drops on the way home, but they didn't seem to do much good. What I need to do is get the students to do most of the talking, but it is a small group (7 students), and most of them are shy. Should do more paired / small group stuff, I guess.
At least there will be no more Beowulf after today. I don't know why, but I don't like teaching Beowulf. Part of it, I think, is that it's one of those books that are firmly in my Discomfort Zone: texts that I know just enough about to be all too aware of everything I don't know. I like teaching Shakespeare. I know lots of stuff about Shakespeare. I'm OK with teaching Ibsen, because I know next to nothing about Ibsen; I can just deal with the words on the page, which is all you really need to deal with in a gen ed course, and not worry about what the critics are saying or the complexities of nineteenth-century Norwegian society. And the students and I get to figure it all out together, which is cool. Stuff in between, though? Discomfort zone.
Next up are the troubadour poets, who are firmly in the Ibsen category as far as I'm concerned. I'm looking forward to it.
At least there will be no more Beowulf after today. I don't know why, but I don't like teaching Beowulf. Part of it, I think, is that it's one of those books that are firmly in my Discomfort Zone: texts that I know just enough about to be all too aware of everything I don't know. I like teaching Shakespeare. I know lots of stuff about Shakespeare. I'm OK with teaching Ibsen, because I know next to nothing about Ibsen; I can just deal with the words on the page, which is all you really need to deal with in a gen ed course, and not worry about what the critics are saying or the complexities of nineteenth-century Norwegian society. And the students and I get to figure it all out together, which is cool. Stuff in between, though? Discomfort zone.
Next up are the troubadour poets, who are firmly in the Ibsen category as far as I'm concerned. I'm looking forward to it.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Am in Parentland. The drive here took two days, with a detour to see my first cave and another one to see the house where my grandfather grew up. I have another eight-hour drive to look forward to tomorrow, but since the endpoint is the beach, I can't complain.
Went to Adjunct U. today to get the lay of the land. There sure are a lot of statues of the Virgin Mary there, as well as crosses on top of buildings, but maybe that isn't a bad sort of ambience for a medieval lit class.
In lieu of actually planning the first day of class, I have been engaging in the perfectly legitimate pedagogical tactic of collecting vaguely relevant YouTube videos. Here, have an animated intro to the Canterbury Tales. It's cute, although I'm not so sure about the music. Also, claymation Dante and Lego Beowulf.
Went to Adjunct U. today to get the lay of the land. There sure are a lot of statues of the Virgin Mary there, as well as crosses on top of buildings, but maybe that isn't a bad sort of ambience for a medieval lit class.
In lieu of actually planning the first day of class, I have been engaging in the perfectly legitimate pedagogical tactic of collecting vaguely relevant YouTube videos. Here, have an animated intro to the Canterbury Tales. It's cute, although I'm not so sure about the music. Also, claymation Dante and Lego Beowulf.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
for the curious...
The one unguessed work from Thursday's game (#12) is Patriot Games. I'm not surprised nobody got it, since I'm told it doesn't take place in Florida at all. Or Flordia, even.
'Bye, folks. My dad and I are driving to Parentland. I'll be back when we get there.
'Bye, folks. My dad and I are driving to Parentland. I'll be back when we get there.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
A game...
Guess the work from the student's description of it on the exam! Information in these descriptions may or may not be accurate. 1-11 are reasonably canonical works by American, British, or European authors; 12 and 13 are works of popular fiction (in one case, a series rather than a book) that the students probably shouldn't have chosen (but at least neither one is Shrek or The Lion King, both of which spawned actual essays).
Have fun! And be warned, this is a little like reading inkblots.
1a) [Title] is a tragic story about ambition thats kills him because of that.
b) (same work, different essay) Basically a whole Frankenstein effect happened, her creating the beast that eventually led to her death. [Guessed by Anon II]
2) If "[assumed name of character] would have told the truth, he wouldn’t have to sacrifice his maiden in return for silence. [Guessed by Heu Mihi]
3) [Character] is on a quest for meaning while the accountant is on a chair. [Guessed by Anon I]
4) Having gone through three marriages and still wanting to pursue identity and happiness is a lot. [Guessed by Sisyphus]
5) a) [Character A] strives to show [Character B] that there is more to bla]ck people than black people being black. [Guessed by Heu Mihi]
b) (same work, different essay) However upon meetin [Characters A, C, and D]; and the journey, he encountered a Bulldogsroman.
6) The relationship of [Character A] and [Character B] is ex-marriage ... This turns the entire town against her in a rude, solitudal, and downcast manner. [Guessed by Kermitthefrog.]
7) In Hell, Satan is the big cheese. [Guessed by Neophyte]
8) [Title] is a comedy about a hopeless wanting to become the knight in shining amour ... Like any superhero [Title character] had a sidekick (and I’m not talking about the phone!) ... Although the brighter of the two, farmer guy has half a brain to live on. [Guessed by Anon I]
9) The relationship between [character] and her uncle started out – as in all Shakespeare’s tragic plays – in an a foreboding trail. [Guessed by Anon I]
10) No person has ever, or will ever, glorify a horse. [Guessed by Anon I]
11) [Character] as the role of a foil is even mentioned throughout literature in such things as a poem by Prufrock written in the 20th century. The main reason for his role is Shakespeares theory that all tragedies must have royalty. [Guessed by Kim Wells]
12) [Character A] and [Character B] have been teaching at the Navel Academy in Flordia ... After becoming angered and almost killing the reporter with his bear hands, [Character A] is almost on the verge of murder.
13) He is smart, charming, good-looking, classy, well-dressed, and resourceful, and ... he is always surrounded by minor characters who serve as foils until they are poisoned, exploded, or otherwise incapacitated. In order of attractiveness, these are... [Guessed by Sisyphus]
Have fun! And be warned, this is a little like reading inkblots.
1a) [Title] is a tragic story about ambition thats kills him because of that.
b) (same work, different essay) Basically a whole Frankenstein effect happened, her creating the beast that eventually led to her death. [Guessed by Anon II]
2) If "[assumed name of character] would have told the truth, he wouldn’t have to sacrifice his maiden in return for silence. [Guessed by Heu Mihi]
3) [Character] is on a quest for meaning while the accountant is on a chair. [Guessed by Anon I]
4) Having gone through three marriages and still wanting to pursue identity and happiness is a lot. [Guessed by Sisyphus]
5) a) [Character A] strives to show [Character B] that there is more to bla]ck people than black people being black. [Guessed by Heu Mihi]
b) (same work, different essay) However upon meetin [Characters A, C, and D]; and the journey, he encountered a Bulldogsroman.
6) The relationship of [Character A] and [Character B] is ex-marriage ... This turns the entire town against her in a rude, solitudal, and downcast manner. [Guessed by Kermitthefrog.]
7) In Hell, Satan is the big cheese. [Guessed by Neophyte]
8) [Title] is a comedy about a hopeless wanting to become the knight in shining amour ... Like any superhero [Title character] had a sidekick (and I’m not talking about the phone!) ... Although the brighter of the two, farmer guy has half a brain to live on. [Guessed by Anon I]
9) The relationship between [character] and her uncle started out – as in all Shakespeare’s tragic plays – in an a foreboding trail. [Guessed by Anon I]
10) No person has ever, or will ever, glorify a horse. [Guessed by Anon I]
11) [Character] as the role of a foil is even mentioned throughout literature in such things as a poem by Prufrock written in the 20th century. The main reason for his role is Shakespeares theory that all tragedies must have royalty. [Guessed by Kim Wells]
12) [Character A] and [Character B] have been teaching at the Navel Academy in Flordia ... After becoming angered and almost killing the reporter with his bear hands, [Character A] is almost on the verge of murder.
13) He is smart, charming, good-looking, classy, well-dressed, and resourceful, and ... he is always surrounded by minor characters who serve as foils until they are poisoned, exploded, or otherwise incapacitated. In order of attractiveness, these are... [Guessed by Sisyphus]
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Grading camp
Here I am at grading camp. It is the end of Day 3, and I've read about 360 essays so far, not counting the sample ones they use to make sure our internal grading scales are calibrated properly. This year the topic is about literary foils, or, as one student explained it, “In some novels the main character is befriended by someone of the opposite personality, creating a ‘good cop, bad cop’ type of unity.”
Lots and lots of essays about The Kite Runner, Frankenstein, Pride and Prejudice, Hamlet, Huckleberry Finn, The Great Gatsby, Don Quixote, Crime and Punishment ("Raskolnikov is a murderer, making it seem his morals are not good"), The Awakening ("This event completely throws Edna off her happy horse"), "1984 by Orson Wells," "the overexxagerated play ‘The Importance of Being Earnest,’ by Scott T. Fitzgerald," &c. One on Harry Potter, and one on a Russian play so obscure I had to Google it. (The one about the Russian play was rather good; the one about Harry Potter, not so much.)
And one kid wrote a poem instead of an essay. It was the only poem I've ever read that rhymed "thirteen" with "crack feen." I hope never to read another.
Four more days to go, with overtime pay since a bunch of people didn't show up. Yay, I think?
Lots and lots of essays about The Kite Runner, Frankenstein, Pride and Prejudice, Hamlet, Huckleberry Finn, The Great Gatsby, Don Quixote, Crime and Punishment ("Raskolnikov is a murderer, making it seem his morals are not good"), The Awakening ("This event completely throws Edna off her happy horse"), "1984 by Orson Wells," "the overexxagerated play ‘The Importance of Being Earnest,’ by Scott T. Fitzgerald," &c. One on Harry Potter, and one on a Russian play so obscure I had to Google it. (The one about the Russian play was rather good; the one about Harry Potter, not so much.)
And one kid wrote a poem instead of an essay. It was the only poem I've ever read that rhymed "thirteen" with "crack feen." I hope never to read another.
Four more days to go, with overtime pay since a bunch of people didn't show up. Yay, I think?
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