I didn't make it to the "sexy" sessions (Jessica Valenti, on one hand, and the Wheelock Conference folks, on the other), but there was still plenty of drama.
...
I just wrote and then deleted what would have been a really snarky and pointed paragraph. Instead, let me say this:
- If you come to a conference for the first time, instead of whinging about "where are all the panels about x" and "why is NWSA so racist/classist/etc.," you might think about why *you* didn't bother to propose a panel about x. And then propose one for next year.
- If you submit an individual paper when the directions clearly state that full panels have a better chance of being accepted, please don't mope and act surly when your paper isn't added to the session you want it to be added to. If you want to be in a paper session, then propose a full panel. This is not rocket science, people.
- Having a wedding in the same facility as the feminist conference does not oppress you. I don't care how much you hate the institution of marriage and how much you don't want to be around wedding rituals. You are in a public space, and you don't get to impose your preferences on everyone else's behavior. Deal with it.
- Complaining that the wedding is oppressing you will seriously undermine your very legitimate concerns about safety in public spaces.
- Organizers should perhaps not book feminist conferences at golf resorts that were formerly "gentlemen's clubs." I'm just saying. I think some of the safety issues and harassment were connected to the sense of what that space was and the access that gave the other guests to women's bodies.
- If you perceive the mere existence of panels that speak to the experience of mothering as a message that women should "stay home and have babies"...well, I really don't know what to say to you, other than that you clearly are not doing much in the way of listening, now, are you?
- If you perceive reasonable objections to your presentation as confrontational, then you need to consider taking a vacation next year, instead.
- If you are a resort hotel that routinely overbooks and tells its guests, "I know you think you reserved a non-smoking room, but that's really just a request and not a guarantee," you suck.
- Music by women only is a nice idea, but it is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad approach to a DJ'd dance. Please, do not do that again. And while we're on the subject, one might consider quizzing potential DJs on what constitutes danceable music. One Pointer Sister-style song is fine. Many such songs are not fine. Also, switching genres dramatically and erratically is not fine, either, which is why real DJs generally don't do it. And seriously, if you're just going to play crappy music that no one can dance to, that is not empowering to anyone. (Has no one ever heard of Alison Moyet, for pete's sake?!)
Aside from all of that, I did get to witness history in the making. The NWSA passed a resolution opposing women-born-women policies and urging feminist organizations who had such policies to rethink them. This is a huge deal, and it could not have happened five years ago. What's more, I believe that it passed unanimously, or very nearly.
OK, so seriously: I had a great time. I did. Which is why, despite my laundry list above, I never miss this conference.
Showing posts with label academe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label academe. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
I am off to argue with people I agree with...
...which means I'm going to the National Women's Studies Association conference in Chicago. Or, rather, west of Chicago. I anticipate many hours spent waiting for the NWSA shuttle to take me to the conference site. Must remember to pack knitting and a book. Sigh.
Point is, you won't be hearing from me for a few days because I will be busy conferencing. However, this is a conference that has in past years drawn folks like Mary Daly, Sheila Jeffreys, Wendy Chapkis, and other controversial feminists. So...I may return with stories.
I am off to pack. See you when I get back.
Point is, you won't be hearing from me for a few days because I will be busy conferencing. However, this is a conference that has in past years drawn folks like Mary Daly, Sheila Jeffreys, Wendy Chapkis, and other controversial feminists. So...I may return with stories.
I am off to pack. See you when I get back.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Inside the Ivory Tower, Part II*: Stuffy Academics at the Gate
Er...doing the gatekeeping, that is.
Let me back up.
In academe, one must publish in journals in order to get anywhere in one's career (hell, even to stand still, one must publish). The way this works is that an author submits an article to a journal. If the editorial board (which is sometimes a grad student) sees fit, it is then passed along to reviewers. This is usually a double-blind process - the author doesn't know who the reviewers are, and the reviewers don't know who the author is. This is to prevent any special treatment (or the reverse) that might occur if the author and reviewer actually know each other in real life or have strong opinions about the other's work or some such thing.
Reviewers are chosen because they have some knowledge of a particular area. The idea is to get experts in the field, but as many people don't want to review articles (too busy, not interested, etc.), this is not always possible.
Now, reviewers have a lot of power in this process. If a reviewer thinks your article sucks, that can mean that your piece doesn't get published - whether or not it actually sucks. Reviewers also get to write whatever nasty thing they want to say - anonymously. I mean, think for a minute about how the relative anonymity of the internet works. Now, imagine that approach applied to a professional review on which people's careers rest. It's frightening, the kinds of things people will write when they know they can get away with it.
Anyway. You might think that it's not a big deal to get a paper rejected; after all, one can simply submit a paper elsewhere. This is true, and it's what most of us do - papers make the rounds, one journal at a time (submitting the same piece to more than one journal at a time is seen as a breach of ethics), and we wait for months to find out whether or not the journal is even interested (if it is, there might still be heavy revising in the future before the article will see publication, and there is still no guarantee).
But very often, the same reviewers review papers for several journals. This means that a small group of people have a lot of power to decide, not just what should appear in one journal, but what should appear in a number of journals. This is a problem because the reality is that what individuals research is highly - HIGHLY - controversial. Journal editorial boards and reviewers have political biases, like everyone else. Certain scholars' work - particularly those doing work on women, on sexual minorities, and on people of color - are more likely to be seen as less rigorous scholarship, particularly the ground-breaking work that challenges canonical knowledge or method. Or, conversely, these areas of inquiry may be seen as hot and exciting and valuable, but it is much easier for established (often white, often male) scholars to be published in these areas, even if they have no real expertise in these areas.
Now, the other day, I heard a talk that addressed the problem of lower publication rates of women and people of color. The speaker attributed this problem to "the pipeline" - the publication process itself. In other words, it is not a failure to do good work, but a failure to get good work accepted for publication, that is behind this lower publication rate.
The following day, I heard a panel offer suggestions for getting work published in academic journals. While some of the information was helpful - read the journal carefully and be sure your paper is structured the way the papers that have already been published are structured; keep sending the paper out and don't be daunted by rejection; be willing to take criticism and revise seriously; etc. - most of it assumed that the process was fair. The panelists even stated, flat out: Trust the process. The process will result in you having a stronger, published paper.
But there's a contradiction here because obviously, the process doesn't work. The process, in fact, is the problem. There is a structural problem with the whole system, and it's not going to go away. It is a problem, for example, when a journal rejects manuscripts in order to dishonestly drive up it's exclusive acceptance rate. It is a problem when a journal asks an author to revise and resubmit, but then does not send the revision to the original reviewers (which means it is less likely that the piece will be accepted). It is a problem when an idea, an approach, or a field of study are dismissed out of hand as unscholarly or irrelevant because of the personal bias of the editorial board or reviewers. And yet, all of these things happen regularly.
In frustration, some (not me, for what it's worth) have begun to simultaneously send the same articles to multiple journals. This is dangerous because it's not something one wants to get caught doing - it could indeed jeopardize future submissions. But it's also an understandable response to a system that, if not completely broken, is desperately in need of fixing.
(I haven't even mentioned that many people are expected to publish in the top journals in their field - publications elsewhere don't count. If each journal publishes 30 articles a year, and each journal receives between 130 and 300 submissions a year...you do the math.)
So. A small percentage of people control the means to publish in the top journals, and thereby have inordinate control, not only over the careers of many academics, but also over what counts as knowledge in a given field. Am I overstating things? When these issues were raised in the panel, the journal editors again urged the audience to trust the process, mentioning their own, numerous publications. As they spoke, and as others joined in the conversation, the network of which they were a part became clearly visible: they were editors, they had reviewed for each others' journals, they had been published in each others' journals. They had connections to the names in the field.
Never once did they mention the existence of this network.
And when it was pointed out to them, they bristled, insisting that the network was, in actuality, really just the only available experts in the field, the only ones who could be counted on as gatekeepers. But, as a colleague of mine pointed out, once people believe they know who the experts are, they never look outside of their own networks to see who else is doing what and where. And so the same people control the production of knowledge, over and over again.
(It feels like a low blow to note that all three were white men, but then - they were. And this, too, is suspicious, not because white men can't be excellent editors, but because...well, you all know why.)
*I'm considering my earlier post on Women's Studies hires to be the Part I.
Let me back up.
In academe, one must publish in journals in order to get anywhere in one's career (hell, even to stand still, one must publish). The way this works is that an author submits an article to a journal. If the editorial board (which is sometimes a grad student) sees fit, it is then passed along to reviewers. This is usually a double-blind process - the author doesn't know who the reviewers are, and the reviewers don't know who the author is. This is to prevent any special treatment (or the reverse) that might occur if the author and reviewer actually know each other in real life or have strong opinions about the other's work or some such thing.
Reviewers are chosen because they have some knowledge of a particular area. The idea is to get experts in the field, but as many people don't want to review articles (too busy, not interested, etc.), this is not always possible.
Now, reviewers have a lot of power in this process. If a reviewer thinks your article sucks, that can mean that your piece doesn't get published - whether or not it actually sucks. Reviewers also get to write whatever nasty thing they want to say - anonymously. I mean, think for a minute about how the relative anonymity of the internet works. Now, imagine that approach applied to a professional review on which people's careers rest. It's frightening, the kinds of things people will write when they know they can get away with it.
Anyway. You might think that it's not a big deal to get a paper rejected; after all, one can simply submit a paper elsewhere. This is true, and it's what most of us do - papers make the rounds, one journal at a time (submitting the same piece to more than one journal at a time is seen as a breach of ethics), and we wait for months to find out whether or not the journal is even interested (if it is, there might still be heavy revising in the future before the article will see publication, and there is still no guarantee).
But very often, the same reviewers review papers for several journals. This means that a small group of people have a lot of power to decide, not just what should appear in one journal, but what should appear in a number of journals. This is a problem because the reality is that what individuals research is highly - HIGHLY - controversial. Journal editorial boards and reviewers have political biases, like everyone else. Certain scholars' work - particularly those doing work on women, on sexual minorities, and on people of color - are more likely to be seen as less rigorous scholarship, particularly the ground-breaking work that challenges canonical knowledge or method. Or, conversely, these areas of inquiry may be seen as hot and exciting and valuable, but it is much easier for established (often white, often male) scholars to be published in these areas, even if they have no real expertise in these areas.
Now, the other day, I heard a talk that addressed the problem of lower publication rates of women and people of color. The speaker attributed this problem to "the pipeline" - the publication process itself. In other words, it is not a failure to do good work, but a failure to get good work accepted for publication, that is behind this lower publication rate.
The following day, I heard a panel offer suggestions for getting work published in academic journals. While some of the information was helpful - read the journal carefully and be sure your paper is structured the way the papers that have already been published are structured; keep sending the paper out and don't be daunted by rejection; be willing to take criticism and revise seriously; etc. - most of it assumed that the process was fair. The panelists even stated, flat out: Trust the process. The process will result in you having a stronger, published paper.
But there's a contradiction here because obviously, the process doesn't work. The process, in fact, is the problem. There is a structural problem with the whole system, and it's not going to go away. It is a problem, for example, when a journal rejects manuscripts in order to dishonestly drive up it's exclusive acceptance rate. It is a problem when a journal asks an author to revise and resubmit, but then does not send the revision to the original reviewers (which means it is less likely that the piece will be accepted). It is a problem when an idea, an approach, or a field of study are dismissed out of hand as unscholarly or irrelevant because of the personal bias of the editorial board or reviewers. And yet, all of these things happen regularly.
In frustration, some (not me, for what it's worth) have begun to simultaneously send the same articles to multiple journals. This is dangerous because it's not something one wants to get caught doing - it could indeed jeopardize future submissions. But it's also an understandable response to a system that, if not completely broken, is desperately in need of fixing.
(I haven't even mentioned that many people are expected to publish in the top journals in their field - publications elsewhere don't count. If each journal publishes 30 articles a year, and each journal receives between 130 and 300 submissions a year...you do the math.)
So. A small percentage of people control the means to publish in the top journals, and thereby have inordinate control, not only over the careers of many academics, but also over what counts as knowledge in a given field. Am I overstating things? When these issues were raised in the panel, the journal editors again urged the audience to trust the process, mentioning their own, numerous publications. As they spoke, and as others joined in the conversation, the network of which they were a part became clearly visible: they were editors, they had reviewed for each others' journals, they had been published in each others' journals. They had connections to the names in the field.
Never once did they mention the existence of this network.
And when it was pointed out to them, they bristled, insisting that the network was, in actuality, really just the only available experts in the field, the only ones who could be counted on as gatekeepers. But, as a colleague of mine pointed out, once people believe they know who the experts are, they never look outside of their own networks to see who else is doing what and where. And so the same people control the production of knowledge, over and over again.
(It feels like a low blow to note that all three were white men, but then - they were. And this, too, is suspicious, not because white men can't be excellent editors, but because...well, you all know why.)
*I'm considering my earlier post on Women's Studies hires to be the Part I.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Thinking about a career in Women's Studies?
This issue came up on a listserv I'm on, and I debated about responding publically, since I am on the job market now and I don't really need to piss anyone off, if you catch my drift. But it isn't just about my own experiences job hunting, which really haven't been too horrible. It's about the state of Women's Studies, or, in fact, the state of academia today.
Something like two-thirds of all academics are adjuncts. This means that most academics are teaching close to full-time (or beyond) and getting paid around $1500 - $3500 per course (v. the $35 - $45 K that full-time faculty are making for the same courseload (or a reduced one)).
Now, some of us have interdisciplinary degrees - degrees in Women's Studies, American Studies, and so on. The deal is that, barring exceptional circumstances, traditional departments (English, Sociology, History, etc.) generally will not hire anyone who does not have a degree in that discipline. Now, if a History department is looking for someone who specializes in the history of women, and someone with a Women's Studies degree whose dissertation was historical in nature applies for the job, that person might perhaps have a shot at that position. However, if equally attractive candidates with History degrees also apply, chances are that the Women's Studies person will be out in the cold.
Over the last few decades, graduate programs in Women's Studies have been popping up, offering M.A.s and now Ph.D.s in Women's Studies. So, you'd think that these well-trained Women's Studies grads would have their pick of Women's Studies positions, right?
Er...well, here's the thing. First, many Women's Studies programs are located within discipline-specific departments, especially Sociology and English. Thus, candidates for positions in these programs would need to have a degree in Sociology or English, with perhaps a "certificate" in Women's Studies, in order to compete.
Second, these certificates in Women's Studies are given to acknowledge that a graduate student who has not pursued Women's Studies as a degree course has nonetheless done some amount of work in Women's Studies. In some programs, the requirements for receiving a certificate are minimal. Offering these certificates is a way for Women's Studies programs to attract more students to their classes. However, it directly affects the graduates of these programs, as it adds significantly to the pool of candidates with whom they will be competing for jobs.
Having a certificate can be very helpful. It offers credibility in a subject area that one hasn't studied extensively. But I have met many traditionally-degreed people with certificates, people who are teaching Intro to Women's / Gender Studies, etc., who have no clue how to put such a course together, who have no sense of how Women's Studies functions as an interdisciplinary field, or who don't understand the political battles going on between Women's Studies and Gender Studies, or who have not studied Feminist Pedagogy, or who don't understand the difference between feminist research and anti-feminist research, or who don't really understand what, at the root, Women Studies is.
This is not an indictment of folks with certificates. I simply wish to make the point that an M.A. and/or Ph.D. in Women's Studies demands a close study and familiarity that a certificate does not.
Third, very often, Women's Studies positions are split between Women's Studies and some other, traditional discipline. Frequently, the tenure home is in the traditional discipline, which again means that applicants will generally need to have a degree in that traditional discipline in order to be hired in the first place, much less to get tenure.
So, here's a question: if traditional disciplines generally don't hire candidates with interdisciplinary degrees, and if Women's Studies hires candidates with traditional degrees, and if Women's Studies considers a certificate in Women's Studies to be little different, when it comes to hiring, than the in-depth education that one experiences in a Women's Studies Ph.D. program - then, what is the value of a Women's Studies degree?
And, further, if there is no value to a Women's Studies degree, then why bother to create new degree-granting programs?
I think Women's Studies programs - and American Studies programs, as well - owe it to their graduates and to these disciplines themselves to make a point of hiring those with degrees in these interdisciplines.
Meanwhile, at a conference last week, a graduate student asked me if she should get her Ph.D. in Sociology or Women's Studies. Can you guess what I told her?
Something like two-thirds of all academics are adjuncts. This means that most academics are teaching close to full-time (or beyond) and getting paid around $1500 - $3500 per course (v. the $35 - $45 K that full-time faculty are making for the same courseload (or a reduced one)).
Now, some of us have interdisciplinary degrees - degrees in Women's Studies, American Studies, and so on. The deal is that, barring exceptional circumstances, traditional departments (English, Sociology, History, etc.) generally will not hire anyone who does not have a degree in that discipline. Now, if a History department is looking for someone who specializes in the history of women, and someone with a Women's Studies degree whose dissertation was historical in nature applies for the job, that person might perhaps have a shot at that position. However, if equally attractive candidates with History degrees also apply, chances are that the Women's Studies person will be out in the cold.
Over the last few decades, graduate programs in Women's Studies have been popping up, offering M.A.s and now Ph.D.s in Women's Studies. So, you'd think that these well-trained Women's Studies grads would have their pick of Women's Studies positions, right?
Er...well, here's the thing. First, many Women's Studies programs are located within discipline-specific departments, especially Sociology and English. Thus, candidates for positions in these programs would need to have a degree in Sociology or English, with perhaps a "certificate" in Women's Studies, in order to compete.
Second, these certificates in Women's Studies are given to acknowledge that a graduate student who has not pursued Women's Studies as a degree course has nonetheless done some amount of work in Women's Studies. In some programs, the requirements for receiving a certificate are minimal. Offering these certificates is a way for Women's Studies programs to attract more students to their classes. However, it directly affects the graduates of these programs, as it adds significantly to the pool of candidates with whom they will be competing for jobs.
Having a certificate can be very helpful. It offers credibility in a subject area that one hasn't studied extensively. But I have met many traditionally-degreed people with certificates, people who are teaching Intro to Women's / Gender Studies, etc., who have no clue how to put such a course together, who have no sense of how Women's Studies functions as an interdisciplinary field, or who don't understand the political battles going on between Women's Studies and Gender Studies, or who have not studied Feminist Pedagogy, or who don't understand the difference between feminist research and anti-feminist research, or who don't really understand what, at the root, Women Studies is.
This is not an indictment of folks with certificates. I simply wish to make the point that an M.A. and/or Ph.D. in Women's Studies demands a close study and familiarity that a certificate does not.
Third, very often, Women's Studies positions are split between Women's Studies and some other, traditional discipline. Frequently, the tenure home is in the traditional discipline, which again means that applicants will generally need to have a degree in that traditional discipline in order to be hired in the first place, much less to get tenure.
So, here's a question: if traditional disciplines generally don't hire candidates with interdisciplinary degrees, and if Women's Studies hires candidates with traditional degrees, and if Women's Studies considers a certificate in Women's Studies to be little different, when it comes to hiring, than the in-depth education that one experiences in a Women's Studies Ph.D. program - then, what is the value of a Women's Studies degree?
And, further, if there is no value to a Women's Studies degree, then why bother to create new degree-granting programs?
I think Women's Studies programs - and American Studies programs, as well - owe it to their graduates and to these disciplines themselves to make a point of hiring those with degrees in these interdisciplines.
Meanwhile, at a conference last week, a graduate student asked me if she should get her Ph.D. in Sociology or Women's Studies. Can you guess what I told her?
Monday, November 13, 2006
To Whom It May Concern
Please accept this letter and the enclosed documents as my letter of application for whatever job you might have available.
I was delighted to see your position announcement because I am becoming rather desperate for a job that will pay me a living wage, and I'm glad to know that someone out there is actually hiring full-time employees.
I am interested in a career at your institution because you have students there, and classes, and I teach students in classes, so it seems like a good match. Also, you have a library with books in it and an office, and I need those things. Most of all, though, I am interested in obtaining a tenure-track (or, hey, I'm not fussy, just full-time will do) teaching position before my students do.
I have gobs of teaching experience. I have, in fact, been teaching college for nearly 15 years. In that time, I've taught pretty much every subject there is except for math and science, but I like a challenge, so don't feel that you can't just stick me in any old place. As either a student or an adjunct for my entire academic career, I have not only designed and taught all my own courses, but I have also chaired the department on a couple of occasions. I'd especially be interested in teaching large, 100+ student lecture courses without any Teaching Assistants to help me grade, particularly if I will be assuming the directorship of the program at that time as well as cranking out excellent scholarship. I can multi-task, and I can adapt quickly to new situations. I'm also good with my hands.
My research is really quite interesting, but between adjuncting and writing job applications, it is unlikely that I'll ever have time to complete it. I suspect, though, that it's damn near cutting edge, and if I had been eligible to apply for any of the grants at my institution, I'd probably have something solid to show you.
In any case, I'm well-acquainted with blind loyalty to the institution and hard, thankless work, and I'm a cheap date. I will be so grateful if you hire me that I'll forget all about negotiating, and I won't mention the fact that I've already worked the equivalent of five years' full-time employement, during which time I've watched many of my colleagues who graduated with me receive tenure.
Oh, and I'm not bitter or depressed at all.
Sincerely,
Plainsfeminist
I was delighted to see your position announcement because I am becoming rather desperate for a job that will pay me a living wage, and I'm glad to know that someone out there is actually hiring full-time employees.
I am interested in a career at your institution because you have students there, and classes, and I teach students in classes, so it seems like a good match. Also, you have a library with books in it and an office, and I need those things. Most of all, though, I am interested in obtaining a tenure-track (or, hey, I'm not fussy, just full-time will do) teaching position before my students do.
I have gobs of teaching experience. I have, in fact, been teaching college for nearly 15 years. In that time, I've taught pretty much every subject there is except for math and science, but I like a challenge, so don't feel that you can't just stick me in any old place. As either a student or an adjunct for my entire academic career, I have not only designed and taught all my own courses, but I have also chaired the department on a couple of occasions. I'd especially be interested in teaching large, 100+ student lecture courses without any Teaching Assistants to help me grade, particularly if I will be assuming the directorship of the program at that time as well as cranking out excellent scholarship. I can multi-task, and I can adapt quickly to new situations. I'm also good with my hands.
My research is really quite interesting, but between adjuncting and writing job applications, it is unlikely that I'll ever have time to complete it. I suspect, though, that it's damn near cutting edge, and if I had been eligible to apply for any of the grants at my institution, I'd probably have something solid to show you.
In any case, I'm well-acquainted with blind loyalty to the institution and hard, thankless work, and I'm a cheap date. I will be so grateful if you hire me that I'll forget all about negotiating, and I won't mention the fact that I've already worked the equivalent of five years' full-time employement, during which time I've watched many of my colleagues who graduated with me receive tenure.
Oh, and I'm not bitter or depressed at all.
Sincerely,
Plainsfeminist
Friday, October 06, 2006
A "Total Drek" Moment
Listen up, all you students, because this is important. This is one of those things that, if you find yourself described below, isn't even on your radar yet, but it's something that matters far more than you think.
Teachers, you know those conferences with students who never put their backpacks down or take off their coats? The 20-minute, scheduled meetings that end up lasting all of two minutes because the students literally have their bodies in the doorway and are moving away while you are speaking to them? The ones in which the student just nods and says, "un-huh" or "yup" to everything you say, but never asks any questions or even looks at the paper?
We've all had them. And Drek says it better than I ever could.
Teachers, you know those conferences with students who never put their backpacks down or take off their coats? The 20-minute, scheduled meetings that end up lasting all of two minutes because the students literally have their bodies in the doorway and are moving away while you are speaking to them? The ones in which the student just nods and says, "un-huh" or "yup" to everything you say, but never asks any questions or even looks at the paper?
We've all had them. And Drek says it better than I ever could.
Monday, October 02, 2006
The learning curve
OK, first, I can't write about politics today. I've had it. Over the last couple of weeks I have become such an angry, depressed person, and while I realized that, given the state of the nation, this is actually quite a rational response, I also know that I can't live like this for an extended period of time without bursting something. So I'm taking a break, breathing deeply, smelling the flowers, and in a minute, I'll be sitting on the porch with a pop and a book.
So what I want to tell you is that I love my students. They did something today that blew me away. It didn't really happen *today* - it's just that I noticed it today. Here's the deal:
Last night I was up until 1am grading papers. I don't like grading on the best of days, and grading late on a Sunday night is about as depressing as it gets, but somehow I fell into a groove and it wasn't too bad. But the papers themselves needed a lot of work, and so it was not a fun experience, because writing "C" and "D" is never a fun experience. I remember getting some of those, and it isn't fun on that end, either. I always worry about how students will take it, and I don't want to discourage them, especially when so many have struggled so hard with their writing already. So I was a little concerned about what the class' reaction would be.
I handed back the papers this morning, and then I met with several students to talk about the next essay they're working on. And I saw VASTLY improved writing this time around. They are starting to get it, they told me. They see how this drafting and revising thing could be useful for their writing.
And the kicker:
I met with two people today whose papers were barely passing. And they were enthusiastic about the next paper - they were looking ahead and thinking about what they were learning about writing.
I never expected that. Hunting me down, yelling at me, crying in my office - yes. Taking criticism so beautifully - no.
And the best part is, I know that the next papers will be better. They're starting to get it!
So what I want to tell you is that I love my students. They did something today that blew me away. It didn't really happen *today* - it's just that I noticed it today. Here's the deal:
Last night I was up until 1am grading papers. I don't like grading on the best of days, and grading late on a Sunday night is about as depressing as it gets, but somehow I fell into a groove and it wasn't too bad. But the papers themselves needed a lot of work, and so it was not a fun experience, because writing "C" and "D" is never a fun experience. I remember getting some of those, and it isn't fun on that end, either. I always worry about how students will take it, and I don't want to discourage them, especially when so many have struggled so hard with their writing already. So I was a little concerned about what the class' reaction would be.
I handed back the papers this morning, and then I met with several students to talk about the next essay they're working on. And I saw VASTLY improved writing this time around. They are starting to get it, they told me. They see how this drafting and revising thing could be useful for their writing.
And the kicker:
I met with two people today whose papers were barely passing. And they were enthusiastic about the next paper - they were looking ahead and thinking about what they were learning about writing.
I never expected that. Hunting me down, yelling at me, crying in my office - yes. Taking criticism so beautifully - no.
And the best part is, I know that the next papers will be better. They're starting to get it!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Be honest.
You know you would so totally go back to college if you could.
I don't think I ever went to a surrealist party, but I did go to a semi-formal in a garbage bag, which is almost the same thing.
I don't think I ever went to a surrealist party, but I did go to a semi-formal in a garbage bag, which is almost the same thing.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Outta Touch
I know that, due to the way karma operates, as soon as I post this, I will learn about some heretofore unknown way in which I am out of the loop. (Some people already think I'm out of the loop, just because I'm older than they are. Like those whippersnappers in the cafe last week who thought I was just saying that Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, and some random band on the satellite feed sounded alike because I was old and didn't know any better. "I'm really into Fall Out Boy," said Whippersnapper #1. "That doesn't sound like them at all." Snap!
Actually, it did, and I could hear the similarity not just because I'm older and recognize that once any band gets any attention, there are immediately 27 other bands who try to adopt the exact same sound, but also because I took a couple of music classes in college. So there.)
But anyway - I'm consistently shocked at how out of touch so many faculty are with their students. For instance, take this paragraph from "Facing the Facebook," an article from The Chronicle of Higher Education:
Um...truth be told, I'm a little amazed. I mean, why is this a surprise? How is it possible that a professor could teach students, face to face in a classroom, and not know that they are spending all their available time on Facebook - and that they are not following the news? Don't these things come up in general conversation? Especially in a Journalism class?!
During my recent travels, I picked up My Freshman Year: What A Professor Learned by Becoming A Student, by Rebecca Nathan (really Cathy Small) in the airport bookstore. Small went "undercover" as a student at her own university to find out what it's really like to be a student in this day and age. After reading for a little while, I realized that the author was a generation older than me: old enough - and out of touch enough - to be surprised by loft beds in the dorms, something that was a staple when I was in college *twenty years ago* (and probably for many years prior to that).
Not that there haven't been changes. (The internet, for example. I don't think we had one when I was coming up.) But what's with all the "oh my gosh, I never dreamed students today were so different"? Where does this shocked and uncomprehending voice come from, as though the students are some sneaky, odd breed who can't be predicted? It isn't that the students are different, folks. It's that we, their teachers, have stopped paying attention.
Actually, it did, and I could hear the similarity not just because I'm older and recognize that once any band gets any attention, there are immediately 27 other bands who try to adopt the exact same sound, but also because I took a couple of music classes in college. So there.)
But anyway - I'm consistently shocked at how out of touch so many faculty are with their students. For instance, take this paragraph from "Facing the Facebook," an article from The Chronicle of Higher Education:
Michael Tracey, a journalism professor at the University of Colorado, recounts a class discussion during which he asked how many people had seen the previous night's NewsHour on PBS or read that day's New York Times. "A couple of hands went up out of about 140 students who were present," he recalls. "One student chirped: 'Ask them how many use Facebook.' I did. Every hand in the room went up. She then said: 'Ask them how many used it today.' I did. Every hand in the room went up. I was amazed."
Um...truth be told, I'm a little amazed. I mean, why is this a surprise? How is it possible that a professor could teach students, face to face in a classroom, and not know that they are spending all their available time on Facebook - and that they are not following the news? Don't these things come up in general conversation? Especially in a Journalism class?!
During my recent travels, I picked up My Freshman Year: What A Professor Learned by Becoming A Student, by Rebecca Nathan (really Cathy Small) in the airport bookstore. Small went "undercover" as a student at her own university to find out what it's really like to be a student in this day and age. After reading for a little while, I realized that the author was a generation older than me: old enough - and out of touch enough - to be surprised by loft beds in the dorms, something that was a staple when I was in college *twenty years ago* (and probably for many years prior to that).
Not that there haven't been changes. (The internet, for example. I don't think we had one when I was coming up.) But what's with all the "oh my gosh, I never dreamed students today were so different"? Where does this shocked and uncomprehending voice come from, as though the students are some sneaky, odd breed who can't be predicted? It isn't that the students are different, folks. It's that we, their teachers, have stopped paying attention.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Composition Teacher, Write Thyself.
We are reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life in my Composition class. Today I borrowed one of her assignments and asked my students to write for a while about what they remembered of school lunches. I wrote, too. Here's a little piece of what I ended up with:
When I was in first or second grade, there was a girl in my class who would give me her potato chips at lunch every day. Unlike many of my peers, we never had potato chips at my house and so I never had them in my lunch. Her chips were in a plastic sandwich baggie that was slick with grease from the chips. They were delicious.
She often smelled awful, mostly of stale urine. We told her this. And on the days when the smell was strong, I wouldn't play with her. I have to wonder, now, if this gift of the chips was an effort to secure a friendship. Her smell lurked around her like a living thing, and I was afraid that if she touched me, it would slither onto me and I would smell, too. The smell made her seem dirty, though in actuality, she was not.
Her smell seemed even to contaminate the chips, so that if I thought about it too much I'd have to imagine them to be covered in some kind of invisible filth. I ate them anyway.
The memory of her smell is so strong that whenever I hear her first name, I think of the rotten tang of subways and airport bathrooms.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Eating in Class
I promise I will eventually get to a blog about my semi-reunion, for those who are interested. But what I want to talk about now is this issue of students and eating in class, which came up during the reunion as several of us are teachers.
One of my friends was shocked - shocked, I say - at the audacity of students who would dare eat in her classroom. And she is not alone - many, if not most, of my colleagues tell me that they find it rude and disrespectful when their students eat in class.
What I can't for the life of me figure out is why.
bell hooks has written eloquently about the disconnect between education as a practice of the mind and education as an endeavor that involves the body (see, in particular, her brilliant discussion of pedagogy, Teaching to Transgress).* As she points out, both our bodies and our minds are present in the classroom, and we need to recognize both.
In my view, if a body in the classroom is hungry, uncomfortable, or needs to pee, the mind attached to it won't be paying attention to whatever else is going on in the classroom.
"But what about crunchy, bag-rustly potato chips?!" someone reading this now is thinking. "How can you say noisy food isn't distracting?! And how can students who are eating possibly be paying attention?!"
Well - first, I hate to say it, but if you're distracted by potato chips, it can't be a very interesting class. Not that I haven't had classes like that myself, but seriously, if the chip bag is distracting, then it's welcome distraction. You should be grateful. It means that your students may still be awake.
And second, not only does eating during class mean that students are not distracted by their hunger, it also means that students are giving their bodies the necessary fuel to stay awake.
Trust me. I used to be one of those students who would routinely have to struggle mightily not to fall asleep in class, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the topic. Unless it was a lively discussion class in which I had to contribute, I would face the risk of falling asleep. It got so bad that I would have to get up once or twice during class and leave the room just to walk around. I brought Altoids to suck on in the hopes that they'd keep me awake. I drank coffee and diet Coke. I brought chocolate. Only eating and drinking helped. (To this day, I have great difficulty sitting still and listening. You do not want me in your lecture class.)
But finally, when it comes right down to it, I don't want my classroom to be a sterile, formal environment. I want it to be a little bit messy, so that smells and tastes and traces of the real world drift into our conversations. I would rather have a student bring her lunch and eat it in class than have to skip lunch because she's got two classes back-to-back. Sometimes that lunch become the focus of our discussion. My comp class this fall will be reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.* There's a whole chapter in there about school lunches. At some point, I'll probably ask them to write a page about school lunches. If on that day someone has brought lunch to eat in class, I can predict that the lunch will aid classroom discussion of the disgusting mayonnaise on the sandwiches that one girl in fifth grade used to bring. Or maybe a student's lunch becomes part of the discussion because she is talking about how she is working so hard just to pay for college that between her two jobs and classes, she never has time to eat.
A professor of mine once likened the classroom to an intellectual feast and urged the class to nourish our bodies as well as our minds by not only bringing in food if we were hungry, but by bringing in extra food to offer to others. That is the kind of environment to which I aspire for my own classroom. But for now, I'm satisfied with students eating crunchy potato chips - and rustling the bags - in class.
* You might notice that I didn't provide links to Amazon dot com for these books. I've been thinking that I'd prefer to send you all to the *real* Amazon bookstore (independent and woman-owned), but I'm having trouble getting direct links on the site. However, you can search the site very easily, and both of these books are available through Amazon Bookstore.
One of my friends was shocked - shocked, I say - at the audacity of students who would dare eat in her classroom. And she is not alone - many, if not most, of my colleagues tell me that they find it rude and disrespectful when their students eat in class.
What I can't for the life of me figure out is why.
bell hooks has written eloquently about the disconnect between education as a practice of the mind and education as an endeavor that involves the body (see, in particular, her brilliant discussion of pedagogy, Teaching to Transgress).* As she points out, both our bodies and our minds are present in the classroom, and we need to recognize both.
In my view, if a body in the classroom is hungry, uncomfortable, or needs to pee, the mind attached to it won't be paying attention to whatever else is going on in the classroom.
"But what about crunchy, bag-rustly potato chips?!" someone reading this now is thinking. "How can you say noisy food isn't distracting?! And how can students who are eating possibly be paying attention?!"
Well - first, I hate to say it, but if you're distracted by potato chips, it can't be a very interesting class. Not that I haven't had classes like that myself, but seriously, if the chip bag is distracting, then it's welcome distraction. You should be grateful. It means that your students may still be awake.
And second, not only does eating during class mean that students are not distracted by their hunger, it also means that students are giving their bodies the necessary fuel to stay awake.
Trust me. I used to be one of those students who would routinely have to struggle mightily not to fall asleep in class, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the topic. Unless it was a lively discussion class in which I had to contribute, I would face the risk of falling asleep. It got so bad that I would have to get up once or twice during class and leave the room just to walk around. I brought Altoids to suck on in the hopes that they'd keep me awake. I drank coffee and diet Coke. I brought chocolate. Only eating and drinking helped. (To this day, I have great difficulty sitting still and listening. You do not want me in your lecture class.)
But finally, when it comes right down to it, I don't want my classroom to be a sterile, formal environment. I want it to be a little bit messy, so that smells and tastes and traces of the real world drift into our conversations. I would rather have a student bring her lunch and eat it in class than have to skip lunch because she's got two classes back-to-back. Sometimes that lunch become the focus of our discussion. My comp class this fall will be reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.* There's a whole chapter in there about school lunches. At some point, I'll probably ask them to write a page about school lunches. If on that day someone has brought lunch to eat in class, I can predict that the lunch will aid classroom discussion of the disgusting mayonnaise on the sandwiches that one girl in fifth grade used to bring. Or maybe a student's lunch becomes part of the discussion because she is talking about how she is working so hard just to pay for college that between her two jobs and classes, she never has time to eat.
A professor of mine once likened the classroom to an intellectual feast and urged the class to nourish our bodies as well as our minds by not only bringing in food if we were hungry, but by bringing in extra food to offer to others. That is the kind of environment to which I aspire for my own classroom. But for now, I'm satisfied with students eating crunchy potato chips - and rustling the bags - in class.
* You might notice that I didn't provide links to Amazon dot com for these books. I've been thinking that I'd prefer to send you all to the *real* Amazon bookstore (independent and woman-owned), but I'm having trouble getting direct links on the site. However, you can search the site very easily, and both of these books are available through Amazon Bookstore.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Email and Student-Faculty Communication
Apparently, student-professor email communication is a big deal, according to The NY Times.
I love email, and I especially love it as a way to communicate with my students. I don't mind when they call me at home, but email is usually more convenient for all of us, especially when one of us - and it is often me, believe it or not - thinks of something important at 1am.
Generally, my experience has been that students are very respectful in their emails to me. Even some of those who call me by my first name in class will address me as "Professor" or "Dr." in their emails. And while they will, as mentioned in the article, frequently attach drafts of their papers and ask for my comments a day or two before the final paper is due, it is often at my invitation and with the understanding that my comments at that point will be cursory.
In fact, as someone who often does not have the time and who is generally too distracted to respond thoughtfully in my email communiques, I feel a bit hypocritical complaining about the quality of my students' emails. And further, as a recent graduate from studenthood, myself, I can tell you that some of my professors to this day often do not acknowledge my emails to them. I chalk this up to their busy schedules, and I don't take it personally - well, mostly, I don't. But over the last 10 years of grad school and teaching, I would say that my email exchanges with my professors have been far more problematic than those with my students.
The worst thing that my students have done via email is to not know quite how to approach me, and so they are sometimes overly informal ("Yo, Teach!") or formal but insecure ("Would you by any chance have the time to meet with me? If not, I totally understand."). Neither of these bother me (though I hope, for their sakes, that they figure out a more respectful or less self-deprecating way, respectively, to talk with their instructors). Or sometimes they don't respond at all (which is one of my pet peeves, but more on that later). Sometimes they will email me a paper instead of giving me a hard copy, and while I confess that I get easily confused by having a stack of hard copies and a few electronic ones, so far, it has been nothing that I haven't been able to figure out eventually. Sometimes they will make demands that I feel are inappropriate, particularly when it comes to grades and why they got them and whether or not they think they should have a different one. But I can't really blame them for this, as we put so much emphasis on grades and then often don't adquately explain how the grading process works.
The worst thing that professors do is to completely ignore emails from their students, and I have been guilty of this, myself (not intentionally!). Sometimes it's just a matter of forgetting, and sometimes it's easier to address the issue in person (for example, when one will see the student in class in a matter of minutes). I'm not talking about those instances. I'm thinking of more hardcore cases. These are the same professors who don't bother to show up for office hours, who don't return phone calls, who see students entirely in terms of how much time they are taking up that the professor could be using for something else, and who basically communicate disrespect to their students. I firmly believe that students should not be made to feel that their time is worth less, or that they themselves are worth less, than the professor. Routinely not responding to a student's email is just shitty, plain and simple.
But I do have a couple of email expectations, whether I'm communicating with a student, an employer, or an old friend:
I expect that, if I ask a question, or for specific information, it will be answered/provided and not ignored in the response. I hate when I ask a question only to get a response on a totally 'nother topic. I'm happy for the new discussion, but I wouldn't have asked my question if I didn't want an answer.
If I write a thoughtful message, I expect a thoughtful reply, or at least some acknowledgement that my correspondent is not holding up his or her end of the conversation for whatever reason ("I'm sorry I can't write more - I'm insanely busy at work"). (But I don't always measure up to this expectation, myself.)
If I send a message that deserves/requires an answer, I expect an answer, eventually. Or even just a "thanks" for the link I sent - just some small acknowledgement that I exist. Because the thing about email is that it can feel an awful lot like you are sending your thoughts out into the void: you don't always know if your message got through, you can never be sure that you haven't inadvertently offended someone, and you always wonder if you sound as inarticulate and unsophisticated to others as you do to yourself. (It's a little like blogging in that respect!)
Academics, particularly, have our own rules about email. For example:
Always suck up to famous academics, particularly those in your field.
Never write the way you would actually talk. For example, instead of saying, "I loved your book - I really related to the experiences you write about," say "I confess I was moved by how well your book described my own experiences." No, there's nothing wrong with writing this way; it's nice writing. But it puts a lot of pressure on us to be articulate all the time, and no one wants that pressure, believe me.
Don't hesitate to take someone down publically when they make a dumbass comment, even if you could easily write to them privately and communicate your critique. This is a standard academic rule, and one that is both entertaining and terrifying for bystanders (because, hey, it's fun to watch, but you could be next).
I see that I am moving into an analysis of academic social interaction, here, so I'd like to open this up for discussion. All you lurkers: what has been your worst/best interaction in academia, and/or across the lines of student/professor? Leave a comment. I'm curious to see.
I love email, and I especially love it as a way to communicate with my students. I don't mind when they call me at home, but email is usually more convenient for all of us, especially when one of us - and it is often me, believe it or not - thinks of something important at 1am.
Generally, my experience has been that students are very respectful in their emails to me. Even some of those who call me by my first name in class will address me as "Professor" or "Dr." in their emails. And while they will, as mentioned in the article, frequently attach drafts of their papers and ask for my comments a day or two before the final paper is due, it is often at my invitation and with the understanding that my comments at that point will be cursory.
In fact, as someone who often does not have the time and who is generally too distracted to respond thoughtfully in my email communiques, I feel a bit hypocritical complaining about the quality of my students' emails. And further, as a recent graduate from studenthood, myself, I can tell you that some of my professors to this day often do not acknowledge my emails to them. I chalk this up to their busy schedules, and I don't take it personally - well, mostly, I don't. But over the last 10 years of grad school and teaching, I would say that my email exchanges with my professors have been far more problematic than those with my students.
The worst thing that my students have done via email is to not know quite how to approach me, and so they are sometimes overly informal ("Yo, Teach!") or formal but insecure ("Would you by any chance have the time to meet with me? If not, I totally understand."). Neither of these bother me (though I hope, for their sakes, that they figure out a more respectful or less self-deprecating way, respectively, to talk with their instructors). Or sometimes they don't respond at all (which is one of my pet peeves, but more on that later). Sometimes they will email me a paper instead of giving me a hard copy, and while I confess that I get easily confused by having a stack of hard copies and a few electronic ones, so far, it has been nothing that I haven't been able to figure out eventually. Sometimes they will make demands that I feel are inappropriate, particularly when it comes to grades and why they got them and whether or not they think they should have a different one. But I can't really blame them for this, as we put so much emphasis on grades and then often don't adquately explain how the grading process works.
The worst thing that professors do is to completely ignore emails from their students, and I have been guilty of this, myself (not intentionally!). Sometimes it's just a matter of forgetting, and sometimes it's easier to address the issue in person (for example, when one will see the student in class in a matter of minutes). I'm not talking about those instances. I'm thinking of more hardcore cases. These are the same professors who don't bother to show up for office hours, who don't return phone calls, who see students entirely in terms of how much time they are taking up that the professor could be using for something else, and who basically communicate disrespect to their students. I firmly believe that students should not be made to feel that their time is worth less, or that they themselves are worth less, than the professor. Routinely not responding to a student's email is just shitty, plain and simple.
But I do have a couple of email expectations, whether I'm communicating with a student, an employer, or an old friend:
I expect that, if I ask a question, or for specific information, it will be answered/provided and not ignored in the response. I hate when I ask a question only to get a response on a totally 'nother topic. I'm happy for the new discussion, but I wouldn't have asked my question if I didn't want an answer.
If I write a thoughtful message, I expect a thoughtful reply, or at least some acknowledgement that my correspondent is not holding up his or her end of the conversation for whatever reason ("I'm sorry I can't write more - I'm insanely busy at work"). (But I don't always measure up to this expectation, myself.)
If I send a message that deserves/requires an answer, I expect an answer, eventually. Or even just a "thanks" for the link I sent - just some small acknowledgement that I exist. Because the thing about email is that it can feel an awful lot like you are sending your thoughts out into the void: you don't always know if your message got through, you can never be sure that you haven't inadvertently offended someone, and you always wonder if you sound as inarticulate and unsophisticated to others as you do to yourself. (It's a little like blogging in that respect!)
Academics, particularly, have our own rules about email. For example:
Always suck up to famous academics, particularly those in your field.
Never write the way you would actually talk. For example, instead of saying, "I loved your book - I really related to the experiences you write about," say "I confess I was moved by how well your book described my own experiences." No, there's nothing wrong with writing this way; it's nice writing. But it puts a lot of pressure on us to be articulate all the time, and no one wants that pressure, believe me.
Don't hesitate to take someone down publically when they make a dumbass comment, even if you could easily write to them privately and communicate your critique. This is a standard academic rule, and one that is both entertaining and terrifying for bystanders (because, hey, it's fun to watch, but you could be next).
I see that I am moving into an analysis of academic social interaction, here, so I'd like to open this up for discussion. All you lurkers: what has been your worst/best interaction in academia, and/or across the lines of student/professor? Leave a comment. I'm curious to see.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
They Must Be Missing Something...
Plagiarism-free papers?
My favorite line: "Plagiarism Free: We use a plagiarism detection program to ensure that all texts are original."
Do you think those Masters Degree-holding writers are bitter and that this is their way of getting back at academia?
My favorite line: "Plagiarism Free: We use a plagiarism detection program to ensure that all texts are original."
Do you think those Masters Degree-holding writers are bitter and that this is their way of getting back at academia?
Friday, January 20, 2006
It's All About The Sex
You know how, no matter how much you might want them to be otherwise, some relationships are just about the sex? You might have feelings for the other person, you let yourself be deluded into thinking that maybe things are going somewhere, that maybe the other person really has feelings for you - but then, you are given a rude awakening of one sort or another and reminded that the relationship really has no future, even if it's fun while it lasts. Are you getting what that's like?
My job is like that.
I love my job. I couldn't ask for more engaged, interesting students. I get to teach classes I enjoy. I have wonderful colleagues and a chair who is always looking out for me. And when I'm not teaching or performing other professorial duties, I get to live my slacker lifestyle, writing in coffee shops, playing guitar with friends, hanging out with my family, agitating for revolution, etc.
But I have no job security, and I don't make enough money to make ends meet. You see, being an adjunct is a lot like having a relationship with the university that's all about the sex. The U is very attractive, and he knows how to make me feel good. He says all the right things - he tells me he needs me, that he doesn't know what he'd do without me, that I'm good for him. And just when I start to believe it, when I start to think, "hey - maybe I really do have something with this guy that's worth hanging onto" - he starts acting weird, getting all distant because I want to leave some stuff at his place.
I'm going to have to start going out on job interviews with other guys.
My job is like that.
I love my job. I couldn't ask for more engaged, interesting students. I get to teach classes I enjoy. I have wonderful colleagues and a chair who is always looking out for me. And when I'm not teaching or performing other professorial duties, I get to live my slacker lifestyle, writing in coffee shops, playing guitar with friends, hanging out with my family, agitating for revolution, etc.
But I have no job security, and I don't make enough money to make ends meet. You see, being an adjunct is a lot like having a relationship with the university that's all about the sex. The U is very attractive, and he knows how to make me feel good. He says all the right things - he tells me he needs me, that he doesn't know what he'd do without me, that I'm good for him. And just when I start to believe it, when I start to think, "hey - maybe I really do have something with this guy that's worth hanging onto" - he starts acting weird, getting all distant because I want to leave some stuff at his place.
I'm going to have to start going out on job interviews with other guys.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Full Circle -- The Semester Begins
I started teaching my interim class today. I have a couple of students who were in my very first class at this college, who were freshmen then and who are now seniors. I can't believe they're already seniors -- I remember how nervous and shy they seemed at the beginning of the fall semester (the way freshmen often do). And now they're all poised and sophisticated, taller, and grown up.
I feel like I've come a long way in my teaching since then. I remember that class as being a very difficult one to teach: I was brand new to the college, it was a class I hadn't taught before, and on top of that, I had chosen a book that we all ended up hating. And there were even a couple of disciplinary problems thrown in for good measure (who I haven't seen since).
At the other end of the spectrum, I have had quite a few repeat students this year. A couple of them have really made their presence felt in my classes over the last year, but they probably won't be in my courses again for some time (given what I teach). I'm going to miss them. Others have taken courses with me nearly every semester for some time, and I am fully enjoying having them in class again.
I spoke a bit today about privilege and oppression. I'm always a little bit worried when I talk about issues like feminism, racism, homophobia, etc., in the classroom. I know that there are some students who automatically turn off when they hear those words. I really struggle to present the information in a way that is accessible to everyone, so that they don't turn off but instead try to engage with the materials I'm presenting. That's all I want -- for them to interact with what we're reading and talking about.
Anyway, this class looks like it will be great -- interesting students, good co-instructor, great texts. Even considering that I'm working with a syllabus that I didn't create, I'm really looking forward to it.
I feel like I've come a long way in my teaching since then. I remember that class as being a very difficult one to teach: I was brand new to the college, it was a class I hadn't taught before, and on top of that, I had chosen a book that we all ended up hating. And there were even a couple of disciplinary problems thrown in for good measure (who I haven't seen since).
At the other end of the spectrum, I have had quite a few repeat students this year. A couple of them have really made their presence felt in my classes over the last year, but they probably won't be in my courses again for some time (given what I teach). I'm going to miss them. Others have taken courses with me nearly every semester for some time, and I am fully enjoying having them in class again.
I spoke a bit today about privilege and oppression. I'm always a little bit worried when I talk about issues like feminism, racism, homophobia, etc., in the classroom. I know that there are some students who automatically turn off when they hear those words. I really struggle to present the information in a way that is accessible to everyone, so that they don't turn off but instead try to engage with the materials I'm presenting. That's all I want -- for them to interact with what we're reading and talking about.
Anyway, this class looks like it will be great -- interesting students, good co-instructor, great texts. Even considering that I'm working with a syllabus that I didn't create, I'm really looking forward to it.
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