Do as I say, not as you think?

Several of chapter four's comp tales deal with misunderstandings or literal interpretations by students, and I have fallen victim to these situations.

Geoff, my most influential boss and the English Department chair, once told me that teaching didn't have a learning curve, instead it was a learning spike. He went on to tell me how as a teacher I would learn so much in such a short span of time that my style and techniques would undergo dramatic change by the second semester and would continue to do so (and if it didn't I wasn't learning anything). He was right. For instance, the first comparison-contrast paper I assigned was a disappointment that required correction the next time I taught it. I went over various ways to construct and outline the paper, but I only gave one example of a sample paper. Well, on the due date, I received 20 papers that were near identical. My students had taken that one sample paper as gospel and mimicked its structure, and some even used very similar topics. I thought about he results, so the next semester, I made an assignment sheet that had two sample outlines, rather than papers. Well, on that due date, I received 20 papers in one of the two purposed formats.

Okay, I decided to change it again. The next semester, I included the outlines and shared the sample paper. The results were similar to past two semesters, but still lacked variety. I was determined to get it right, so the next semester I gave the sample outlines, sample paper, and assigned sample readings that ranged from narrative to persuasive. The combination of lecture, sample outlines, a sample student paper, and a multitude of readings that demonstrated comparison-contrast resulted in a variety of papers that I was finally happy with. However, the changes I made meant changing my syllabus's schedule, which lead to a restructuring of the course to fit in the extra material.

Geoff was right; at the end of one year, my syllabus was nearly unrecognizable, my approach had changed, and the work I was receiving from my students was much better.

Response-Comp Tales Ch. 4

In reference to the comp tale by Linda Bergman (p.42):

Linda found fault in her students' papers' transitions, so she had them rewrite the papers with transitions. One student wrote "moving right along to the next paragraph" as transition to every paragraph.

Several things went through my mind as I read this: was the student being a 'smart ass' or did they lack common sense? I have had both types of students in class and both can be frustrating. The first one is easier to deal with, especially if the behavior is recognized before instructions are given. If we have students that always try to get away with less work by finding a loophole in our assignments, they are great practice for precise communication. Also, precise and clear communication should be something we strive for anyway, so by assuming we are always dealing with the smart ass student, we may be able to effectively reach more students in general.

The second type of student, the one without common sense, is more difficult, but not for the reasons we may assume. Sometimes a teacher's definition of common sense differs from a students. Isn't it possible that we lack some commonsense? If we think that a student thinks as we do, then we may lack some commonsense. Therefore, both types of students are challenging, but they only help us 'up our game' by forcing us to think as others would, which can be challenging.

Technology

Works cited pages plagued me during my undergraduate degree. I seemed to always forget some seemingly vital piece of information, confuse a comma for a period, or format it in correctly. Then, during my senior year, I found some websites that did the work for you. Genius! Or at least I thought. 

'My professors will never know, technology has triumphed over knowledge!' I thought, and to some extent, it had, for I rarely missed points for anything concerning my works cited pages. Fast forward several yeas to my first or second time teaching first year composition. 

I thought, as Adjunct Professor, I could not reveal the secrets of bibme.com and easybib.com, so I studied the writer's handbook and was determined to teach my students how to do a works cited page from scratch. That was my job as an instructor, right? I erased the knowledge of 'cheaters' websites and persevered thought the bored faces and lack of questions. Then everything changed.

R****l was in her mid-twenties and she hated taking FYC, and she had been placed in my class. She challenged me on nearly every topic, and insisted on using words such as participle, dangling modifier, and faulty predication, words that I tended to keep out of a community college classroom for a variety of reasons. I can still hear the students groan when R****l would put her two cents in on every topic we covered. She was challenging as she lacked social awareness and tact, not to mention she never turned anything in, which was why she was taking ENG101 for the third time. 

However, the class sided with her one day: Works Cited day. As I started my lecture, R****l raised and waived her hand like an anxious kindergartner. "Yes, R****l?" I asked. She went on to explain that websites could now do what I was teaching them. Ah, but I was ready for this attack. I told her that I needed to explain the concepts so that if the internet were down or something like that they would know how to put it together, but I soon realized I had been led into a trap, for she then revealed that Word could do it too. Yeah, right, I thought, yet, she continued to urge me to show the students as I was making it harder than it had to be. The problem was, I didn't know how to use Word for that purpose, but as I looked around the classroom, I realized the students were more interested the easy way. I paused. Then I admitted defeat and told the class that maybe we would learn something new together that day, and we did. I'm still not sure if I handled that day right, for R****l seemed to gloat after that and one of my reviews said that I didn't know what I was doing one day and the student had to teach me the material. No doubt from the first person usage, R****l had left the review, but I wondered if other students thought the same thing. Either way, I was glad that I learned the information, but also confused to whether or not I had given the students a short-cut instead of teaching them the material.  

Now in class, I teach the students how to do a Works Cited page though Word, and I seem to receive better Works Cited pages. 

Response-Comp Tale Ch. 3

(BTW, I have no idea how to remove that gigantic photo at the top of this blog; I meant to make it my profile picture, not a massive shrine to myself, sorry.)

The first story involving 'shun' words is a situation that probably sounds very familiar to new instructors. I suppose veteran instructors encounter similar situations too as new/unfamiliar words and theories start to emerge into an instructors jargon. The simple misunderstanding of ‘shun’ words though is a great reminder to ask for clarification from colleagues. Every colleague has something to offer in terms of experience or information, and if nobody asks, nobody gains what they have to offer. Frequently, at least for me, new instructors can feel intimidated by colleagues that have been at an institution for a much longer time period. Not many people like to expose themselves as ignorant or unaware, so they may avoid questioning their colleagues with what they may think are simple questions. However, instructors sometimes need to take the advice they give their students, “there are no dumb questions.” Now, I know that some professors are thinking, “yes, there are,” but for the most part, if one person wants/needs to know, somebody else does too. In this way, if teachers ask for clarification, they will gain the knowledge and be able to answer the same question if they are asked by another person, thus a dissemination of knowledge occurs.  

Things are going to go wrong...

"Pull out a piece of scrap paper, or even tear a piece of paper in half and give the other half to someone next to you; let's save some trees people. We are going to have a reading pop quiz." The students groan and the sound of shuffling and ripping papers fill the air. Where is it? I know I saved the quiz on this USB thingy-ma-jig. Where is it?! (The class waits expectantly for me to load up the quiz on the screen) This is what I get for trying to go green...

That was me during my first semester teaching. I was over the initial jitters of teaching, but I felt them come rushing back to me as the students quieted and waited expectantly. I was engaging in a mental battle because last week I had chastised some students who claimed they lost their saved essays on the day they were due. Keep it together, act professionally, I silently chanted. I smiled, looked up and admitted that I had brought the wrong USB and did not have the quiz with me. However, I crushed their hopes when I informed them that I remembered the questions. So I pulled up a blank word document and typed the questions as I read them to the class. All-in-all, it went fairly well. What the students didn't realize, I don't think, was that I didn't know where the correct USB was, and the quiz was quite a bit easier than it was originally, because I couldn't remember the specifics (I don't think they minded though).

Also, I realized how important it is to be prepared, but not just by bringing the right supplies to class. As an instructor, I have to be prepared for things to go wrong because they inevitably will go wrong. Breathing, laughing, and honesty have gotten me through most situations, and I imagine they will continue to do so.

Chapter 2-Comp Tales

Story 5 Response:

This was an amusing story that illustrated how important it is to not take ourselves too seriously. I have had instructors that ranged from sever to incredibly casual. On one end of the spectrum, one refused to break away from a strict demeanor, oppressing moments of hilarity or potential endearing scenarios. Once I had a professor fart in front of the class, but she just kept on teaching, which in a way I partly admired because it took some guts, considering several people were near dying from laughter. However, I was often intimidated by her, and she seemed so unreal and cut off from emotion, but I also felt like she was a bit silly too for forging ahead when the class was obviously disrupted. The combination didn't work for me. Would it have been that hard to turn to the class, and laughingly stutter, "it happens to the best of us" before continuing the lecture?

Yet, on the other end of the spectrum, I've had several great professors that acknowledged they were human in some pretty funny ways; one really did involve a porn pop-up such as the one talked about in the introduction to chapter two. These professors were memorable and real; I wanted to know what they knew, and their humanness/humility made that possible.

Narrative: Fair Warning

"Please except it, please"
"It's two weeks late, so I cant, sorry"
"You're such a cool teacher; I'm learning so much. How could you let this hurt my grade; you know how hard I'm trying[...]"
"Well...maybe..."

At first, conversations like the one above tortured me, yet flattered me. I was cool? These students liked me, right, yet I wasn't going to be that teacher that let her students walk all over her, or was I? Oftentimes, in the beginning, I was fooled by the flattery and wanted to maintain a certain coolness, so I would let deadlines slide with some additional deductions. Well, fuck that. I think I have lost a certain amount of compassion for excuses over the last three years, but I have become a better teacher. How could a lack of compassion equate better teaching? I think it depends on the type of compassion that is pulled back and what type is still given. I love teaching; I love seeing my students learn; I love learning from my students; I hate enabling them.

As we progress as teachers, our style might change and along with that, policy. At first I was a young teacher with no experience, thrown into a classroom with students that saw right through my forced bravado. Occasionally, I felt like a babysitter with kids that kept telling me they were allowed to watch rated R movies and have their friends stay the night, and their parents never answered the phone to verify the information. I made many mistakes, much to my disappointment, but I learned from them. Eventually I found a combination of several changes allowed me to step out of the caregiver role and into the instructor's role.

First, I realized that my casual teaching style was confusing to students; I wanted to encourage candid discussions, but my friendliness was used against me when assignments were late or not up to par with my expectations. However, attempts to be formal were difficult and felt unnatural.

Second, I realized that my syllabus and assignment guidelines needed to be clear and succinct. Students had more difficulty sweet-talking a teacher with a solid syllabus and a clear set of expectations.

Lastly, I realized that caring for my students didn't mean making excuses for them. For every student that came to me a with a sob story, one may be silently suffering in his/her seat, not expecting special treatment. I wasn't being fair by allowing some students more privileges than others.

Once I realized these three things, I tweaked my style to best fit me and my students. While it is not perfect, I have found that honest conversation with my students about my expectations and their expectations at the beginning of the semester really opens up dialogue and sets the stage for a sturdy semester. I tell them about my holistic and casual teaching style, but I reinforce that my policies are formal and are not up for debate. Also, throughout the semester I try to really understand what they are going through academically and personally, which allows me to connect and foresee problems before they occur. This style seems to work for me, and now when students come to me I can confidently answers questions about the course and assignments. While firm, I'm still flexible, but that flexibility is worked into the syllabus with late policies and exemption policies. In addition to the syllabus, I verbally reiterate what is expected and the consequences if expectations aren't met before every assignment.

Response: Comp Tales, Ch.1

I found the first story to be fairly accurate concerning the differences in community college students. While the same connection might not occur that often in a classroom, the variation from Jailer to the Jailed is standard. However, the author focuses on his failure as a teacher at the end, but he does not go into what he would have done differently if he had J. Johnson again. I didn't want the story to end. I wanted to read more about how to incorporate narrative into the classroom. If the author had J. Johnson again, would the result be the same, would Johnson pass? How much of passing/failing is determined by the student, regardless of teaching methods?

Story two seems familiar in many ways. I remember watching a movie called Urban Legends while I was in high school, and although the horror element was missing in Comp Tales, the story was used much like an urban legend: to scare and deter. Did the unnamed teacher exist? Perhaps. If so, was her story the same as the one circulated? Probably not. Hopefully teachers worry about how to positively affect their students, and if so that would mean they should think about how to change their curriculum and teaching styles to benefit those students, but change is scary.  Change often requires approval from department heads or other teachers, who might not approve of the methods. Also, change is often experimental and may result in a disproportionate amount of students passing or failing. I have been told frequently that all my students shouldn't get all A's and all of them should fail either, but what if they do? Have I failed? Will I be fired? The comp tale reflects on this fear, but it should also acknowledge that with these changes sometimes better practices are discovered, and more students may acquire the knowledge professors are paid to bestow on them. Therefore, change should be encouraged, not talked about as a myth worthy of being fired for.