Tonight was my last first day of class. It's bizarre having such a late schedule. I'm used to starting with an 8 a.m. or 9 a.m. class, but this semester my earliest class is at 3:30, and my other two are night classes that go from 5:30-8:30. All three are the same course and it's one I haven't taught before, so this is the semester of newness.
Now that I've met all three classes, I'm able to relax a bit. I've met the students, learned their names, and gotten the general class personality of each. Now I know what to expect. Now I know which students I should keep my eye on in case they become problematic.
It's exhausting, this first part. Wears me right out.
Tonight I had an older student ask me how long I've been teaching at this university. If he was braver, he would have just come right out and asked me how old I am. Yup, I think he's going to be that guy.
I was very entertained later during the break when I heard that guy's buddy ask one of the gals in class how old she thought the guy was.
Without missing a beat, she said, "Twelve."
I think I just found a new favorite student.
Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Saturday, December 12, 2009
My First Hug
Today while I stood in a store doing the boring job, one of my old students spotted me and made a beeline right to me. I had him for fall semester last year. He was a good student and he even brought me a Christmas card at the end of the semester (a card I still have). He said hello with a big smile on his face and then gave me a hug. It was totally sweet and it has officially made my day.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Another Batch of Ducklings
I've got a stack of grading I need to do before my English 101 final at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'm pushing the clock with regards to how much time I have left to do it, but I'm still reluctant to get to work. End of the semester grading is the hardest. It's all so... final.
In the semesters that I've been teaching, I can trace a change in me in each. The more I do it, the more confident I get about the content, which means I pay more attention to the individual students. Side effect = I get more invested in them. Then the end of the semester comes along and, whoosh, they're gone. Sure, I'll spot a few next semester wandering around campus, or I may even have a couple of 101 kids again since I'm teaching a couple sections of 102, but most of them are going to vanish. It's bizarre and it makes me just a little bit sad.
Most of them will fall off my map and the little mysteries of each student - like the young man studying accounting who has a homemade tattoo on his hand that reads "la famiglia" - will remain mysteries. The writer in me makes up stories to go with the quirks of these students, but as the instructor, it's not my place to get personal.
So, I get to know them the best I can during the course of the semester, I try to help them the best I can, and then they move on and I never really know what happens to them after my class. My brother reminds me, "You'll have another batch next semester to get attached to," but I'm stalling on grading the last bits, because I get sentimental during this part of the semester.
It seems so cheesy, but there you have it. I actually like most of my students.
In the semesters that I've been teaching, I can trace a change in me in each. The more I do it, the more confident I get about the content, which means I pay more attention to the individual students. Side effect = I get more invested in them. Then the end of the semester comes along and, whoosh, they're gone. Sure, I'll spot a few next semester wandering around campus, or I may even have a couple of 101 kids again since I'm teaching a couple sections of 102, but most of them are going to vanish. It's bizarre and it makes me just a little bit sad.
Most of them will fall off my map and the little mysteries of each student - like the young man studying accounting who has a homemade tattoo on his hand that reads "la famiglia" - will remain mysteries. The writer in me makes up stories to go with the quirks of these students, but as the instructor, it's not my place to get personal.
So, I get to know them the best I can during the course of the semester, I try to help them the best I can, and then they move on and I never really know what happens to them after my class. My brother reminds me, "You'll have another batch next semester to get attached to," but I'm stalling on grading the last bits, because I get sentimental during this part of the semester.
It seems so cheesy, but there you have it. I actually like most of my students.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Truth About Students
I don't like to say much about students here, because that's just not cool. But, here's an exception. Often, as I float around the shared office at campus, I hear my colleagues talking about their students. Sadly, a lot of what's being said isn't complimentary. Our students, though college students, are still more teenagers than grown ups and it shows through in a variety of behaviors which are largely related to a "But what do you mean I fail the class if I don't do any of the work?" kind of way. It's the kind of thing that can wear on a person and there's often a lot of venting. I've had my own share of these students, too.
However, I try and avoid the bitch sessions because they don't solve anything and the more we dwell, well, the more we dwell. Now, I'm going to skip the long spiel about human behavior and the effect of said bitch sessions. Yes, we have students who, simply, don't belong in college. Yes, we have students who engage in all kinds of obnoxious behaviors. But, we have even more students who are non-issues and plenty who are pleasant surprises. Without further ado, here's my faith in humanity:
A while back, there was an incident in class where two students nearly got in fist fight. Fast forward to last week when they started a new project. I gave the class the option to work in groups and the two guys who almost fought each other teamed up as part of a group. Now, one of the two is having issues with the class. Issues like not showing up or doing the work. So, on the day of the group presentations, I wasn't exactly surprised when he was not in class. I was ready to give him a zero for the presentation grade, but because of the way I've structured my groups, it wasn't my decision, it was his group's. At the end of class, I talked to them and said they could choose between him getting a zero, half the group grade, or the full group grade and that I'd abide by their decision. After asking if this student could do something to replace the presentation, (no), they decided half credit.
Yesterday, the student was in class again. The guy he almost got in a fight with waved me over for a quiet word. "The reason he wasn't here was 'cause his mom was in the hospital. We decided we want to give him full credit." I looked to the other group member, who nodded. So, he'll get full credit for a presentation he wasn't present for, because that's what his group wants.
Sometimes, in the shared office, there's a lot of whinging about students. I rarely join in. Because, even though these students are still more teenagers than they are adults, most of them are people I'm glad to know.
However, I try and avoid the bitch sessions because they don't solve anything and the more we dwell, well, the more we dwell. Now, I'm going to skip the long spiel about human behavior and the effect of said bitch sessions. Yes, we have students who, simply, don't belong in college. Yes, we have students who engage in all kinds of obnoxious behaviors. But, we have even more students who are non-issues and plenty who are pleasant surprises. Without further ado, here's my faith in humanity:
A while back, there was an incident in class where two students nearly got in fist fight. Fast forward to last week when they started a new project. I gave the class the option to work in groups and the two guys who almost fought each other teamed up as part of a group. Now, one of the two is having issues with the class. Issues like not showing up or doing the work. So, on the day of the group presentations, I wasn't exactly surprised when he was not in class. I was ready to give him a zero for the presentation grade, but because of the way I've structured my groups, it wasn't my decision, it was his group's. At the end of class, I talked to them and said they could choose between him getting a zero, half the group grade, or the full group grade and that I'd abide by their decision. After asking if this student could do something to replace the presentation, (no), they decided half credit.
Yesterday, the student was in class again. The guy he almost got in a fight with waved me over for a quiet word. "The reason he wasn't here was 'cause his mom was in the hospital. We decided we want to give him full credit." I looked to the other group member, who nodded. So, he'll get full credit for a presentation he wasn't present for, because that's what his group wants.
Sometimes, in the shared office, there's a lot of whinging about students. I rarely join in. Because, even though these students are still more teenagers than they are adults, most of them are people I'm glad to know.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Between the Boys: Part 2
*If you haven't read Part 1 yet, read it before you read this post.*
Later on, I tell the story of what happened to my parents. My mom says, "And you just got in between them like that?"
"Yeah. I had to."
Mom doesn't look thrilled. In fact, she looks worried. "That could have been dangerous. In the heat of the moment like that, who knows what could have happened." She reminds me that there was no way for me to know if one of them, for instance, had a knife.
Then I realize, during the whole thing, it never once crossed my mind that I could get hurt. The only thing I was thinking was that I had to step in. I had to take control of the situation.
I acted on my gut. There were some different factors involved in why I did what I did, but I realize that a lot of it came from growing up a tom boy. Back then, I had to stare down plenty of boys that had something to prove. I became an expert at it.
It's a paradox - send me on a first date, and I'm terrified. Throw me into a situation like this, and I have complete confidence. Though, after the situation was de-escalated, my hands were a bit wobbly from the adrenaline rush.
Later on, I tell the story of what happened to my parents. My mom says, "And you just got in between them like that?"
"Yeah. I had to."
Mom doesn't look thrilled. In fact, she looks worried. "That could have been dangerous. In the heat of the moment like that, who knows what could have happened." She reminds me that there was no way for me to know if one of them, for instance, had a knife.
Then I realize, during the whole thing, it never once crossed my mind that I could get hurt. The only thing I was thinking was that I had to step in. I had to take control of the situation.
I acted on my gut. There were some different factors involved in why I did what I did, but I realize that a lot of it came from growing up a tom boy. Back then, I had to stare down plenty of boys that had something to prove. I became an expert at it.
It's a paradox - send me on a first date, and I'm terrified. Throw me into a situation like this, and I have complete confidence. Though, after the situation was de-escalated, my hands were a bit wobbly from the adrenaline rush.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Between the Boys: Part 1
Today while my class is working on their current projects, a commotion breaks out. I go over to see what's going on and two of my male students are pissed at each other. One has a big mouth that hides the vulnerable kid beneath, and the other has just had a rough time of it this semester, (i.e.: both have something to prove).
They aren't really talking by the time I get there, but their body language is full of anger. I ask them what's going on, but neither answers me. The whole class is gawking, waiting for things to get interesting. One student is throwing his things together and he starts walking out the door. The other follows. All I can think of is once they hit the hallway, there's going to be violence, so I'm right behind them and then it's the three of us in the empty hall, with the classroom door shut behind us.
The two guys square off in the hall. One of them isn't incredibly tall, (maybe 5' 7" ish), and one of them is over six foot and a football player who's, well, built like one. I step right in between them and, knowing, because I know these students, that if something's going to start, it's the bigger student who's going to start it, I turn to him and look him in the eye.
He ignores me for a few seconds, looking over my shoulder at the other student and visibly shaking with anger, but I keep talking in a calm voice, saying things like "Look at me, not at him, at me. We need to take this down a notch," and he finally meets my gaze, takes a breath, and calms down enough to walk back in the room. The other student goes to follow, and I stop him to make sure he's calm enough to go back in.
Both guys are back in the room, with all the rest of my class staring on, bug-eyed and holding their breath to see what's going to happen. I say, "Okay, gentlemen, you both need to sit down, and you," I call one by name, "need to move back a few rows and work with your group."
Their body language makes it clear they're half a second away from starting a fight right there in the classroom, so I add, because our campus security is actually a sheriff's office, "Now, gentleman, if I need to, I will call the sheriff. Do I need to make that call?"
One shakes his head. The other mutters, "No ma'am." Then, thankfully, they both sit down. The other students watch for a little longer, and one raises her hand with a question. I look at both of the boys and gauge the situation, then I turn my back to them and walk over to help her, tensed, all the while, in case things started up again.
Behind me, it stayed quiet.
They aren't really talking by the time I get there, but their body language is full of anger. I ask them what's going on, but neither answers me. The whole class is gawking, waiting for things to get interesting. One student is throwing his things together and he starts walking out the door. The other follows. All I can think of is once they hit the hallway, there's going to be violence, so I'm right behind them and then it's the three of us in the empty hall, with the classroom door shut behind us.
The two guys square off in the hall. One of them isn't incredibly tall, (maybe 5' 7" ish), and one of them is over six foot and a football player who's, well, built like one. I step right in between them and, knowing, because I know these students, that if something's going to start, it's the bigger student who's going to start it, I turn to him and look him in the eye.
He ignores me for a few seconds, looking over my shoulder at the other student and visibly shaking with anger, but I keep talking in a calm voice, saying things like "Look at me, not at him, at me. We need to take this down a notch," and he finally meets my gaze, takes a breath, and calms down enough to walk back in the room. The other student goes to follow, and I stop him to make sure he's calm enough to go back in.
Both guys are back in the room, with all the rest of my class staring on, bug-eyed and holding their breath to see what's going to happen. I say, "Okay, gentlemen, you both need to sit down, and you," I call one by name, "need to move back a few rows and work with your group."
Their body language makes it clear they're half a second away from starting a fight right there in the classroom, so I add, because our campus security is actually a sheriff's office, "Now, gentleman, if I need to, I will call the sheriff. Do I need to make that call?"
One shakes his head. The other mutters, "No ma'am." Then, thankfully, they both sit down. The other students watch for a little longer, and one raises her hand with a question. I look at both of the boys and gauge the situation, then I turn my back to them and walk over to help her, tensed, all the while, in case things started up again.
Behind me, it stayed quiet.
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