The last day before spring break = the day that many faculty give their midterm exams.
It is NOT a good day for the college to have a massive bluebook shortage.
Argh!
(Luckily I have a batch of notebook paper left over from last semester's Mystic Binder of Composition experiment.)
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
And another (good) thing
I just had my annual progress meeting. It went well. It went very well.
I admit that I was a little nervous. What if my chair, with whom I get along superbly, decided to call me out on my flaws? I am, after all, opinionated, vehement in meetings, and complain an awful lot. Sometimes I also wear really pilly sweaters.* But instead of pointing out such things he said that I am "terrific" and "fabulous." [Other comments have been redacted in the interests of making a pretense of humility.] It was so good that it actually made me a little bit uncomfortable, and I was glad when the meeting ended. It's weird to be evaluated to your face, even when the evaluation is good.
But, yay, I still have a job.
*ETA: I've also become a terrible gossip. Terrible! I haven't been this bad since middle school. But everyone else here is too--it's really the only way that information of any kind gets disseminated--so I shouldn't be surprised that that doesn't count against me. Yikes, though--I don't like justifying my flaws this way. I think I'm going to work on that.
I admit that I was a little nervous. What if my chair, with whom I get along superbly, decided to call me out on my flaws? I am, after all, opinionated, vehement in meetings, and complain an awful lot. Sometimes I also wear really pilly sweaters.* But instead of pointing out such things he said that I am "terrific" and "fabulous." [Other comments have been redacted in the interests of making a pretense of humility.] It was so good that it actually made me a little bit uncomfortable, and I was glad when the meeting ended. It's weird to be evaluated to your face, even when the evaluation is good.
But, yay, I still have a job.
*ETA: I've also become a terrible gossip. Terrible! I haven't been this bad since middle school. But everyone else here is too--it's really the only way that information of any kind gets disseminated--so I shouldn't be surprised that that doesn't count against me. Yikes, though--I don't like justifying my flaws this way. I think I'm going to work on that.
Just FYI
I leave for spring break tomorrow. I don't think that I've told y'all where I'm going yet, so here it is:
The Minister and I will be flying out to a remote Caribbean island known for its rainforests, volcanoes, and coral reefs, where we'll stay with my father (with whom I get along famously) and stepmother (who is fantastically cool) on their 44-foot sailboat.
Sometimes I do think that being a professor more or less rocks.
And so does having a dad who lives on a sailboat.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Nominal Hierarchy
When I first started out as a professor (all of 18.5 months ago), I was tormented by indecision over how to sign my emails. At Field, we're pretty hierarchical, so it is standard for students to call me Dr. Mihi; however, I wasn't really comfortable actually signing that. It seemed pretentious. So I started doing what my undergrad advisor did--and which I found so maddening--and using my initials.
But then I wasn't really pleased with that, because after a while I felt a lot more comfortable being called "Dr." than I did at first (and a lot less comfortable with "Ms.," "Heu," or--worst--"Mrs." Gah!). So I started occasionally using "Dr. Mihi"; however, that seemed excessive. Finally what I settled on was "H. Mihi."
However, some students became very comfortable with the "HM" in the first semester, including my thesis advisee, with whom I have a good relationship. She actually addresses me as "HM" in her emails. I have no problem with this--but it has caused me to continue signing some emails "HM." In fact, I tend to sign emails to my upper-level classes, and to students who have been in those classes, with just the initials.
Just now I was replying to an email from an absolutely top-notch awesome brilliant student who hasn't taken the upper-levels yet but is still finishing her surveys. I almost signed it "HM"--recognizing as I nearly did so that it was owing to her awesomeness and English-majorness.
But I stopped myself. "H. Mihi" I remain--for now.
However, it made me realize that I have unconsciously established a hierarchy whereby the "in" students get my initials, and the others don't--because, you see, when an upper-level student is out of line or demands some kind of formal response, s/he gets the "H. Mihi": a demotion.
So now I wonder, given how much students chatter (or how much I, as a student, chattered), is it clear from my signature who's "in" and who isn't? Do they notice when I switch signatures on them? What messages am I sending, after all?
And then I think, Wouldn't this mental energy be better spent on something productive, like grading? Or, really, anything other than this line of thinking?
God, I need this vacation. Three more days.
But then I wasn't really pleased with that, because after a while I felt a lot more comfortable being called "Dr." than I did at first (and a lot less comfortable with "Ms.," "Heu," or--worst--"Mrs." Gah!). So I started occasionally using "Dr. Mihi"; however, that seemed excessive. Finally what I settled on was "H. Mihi."
However, some students became very comfortable with the "HM" in the first semester, including my thesis advisee, with whom I have a good relationship. She actually addresses me as "HM" in her emails. I have no problem with this--but it has caused me to continue signing some emails "HM." In fact, I tend to sign emails to my upper-level classes, and to students who have been in those classes, with just the initials.
Just now I was replying to an email from an absolutely top-notch awesome brilliant student who hasn't taken the upper-levels yet but is still finishing her surveys. I almost signed it "HM"--recognizing as I nearly did so that it was owing to her awesomeness and English-majorness.
But I stopped myself. "H. Mihi" I remain--for now.
However, it made me realize that I have unconsciously established a hierarchy whereby the "in" students get my initials, and the others don't--because, you see, when an upper-level student is out of line or demands some kind of formal response, s/he gets the "H. Mihi": a demotion.
So now I wonder, given how much students chatter (or how much I, as a student, chattered), is it clear from my signature who's "in" and who isn't? Do they notice when I switch signatures on them? What messages am I sending, after all?
And then I think, Wouldn't this mental energy be better spent on something productive, like grading? Or, really, anything other than this line of thinking?
God, I need this vacation. Three more days.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sorry I couldn't be of help
Apparently everyone's getting a little stir-crazy, what with this end-of-winter business.
My evidence? Today people from Finland, England, Wisconsin, and Houston reached this blog by googling "what to do on a boring Sunday." None of them stuck around for more than a second.
Sorry, guys--but really, I got nothing. It's pretty quiet around here. Unless you'd like to jump in and do some grading???
My evidence? Today people from Finland, England, Wisconsin, and Houston reached this blog by googling "what to do on a boring Sunday." None of them stuck around for more than a second.
Sorry, guys--but really, I got nothing. It's pretty quiet around here. Unless you'd like to jump in and do some grading???
Thursday, February 26, 2009
It happens so fast
Dear Students,
I fear that we have reached a certain point in the semester. You might have seen it coming, or you might have been so blinded by my encouraging smiles that it will leave you scarred and trembling beneath your desks, unable to complete your midterm papers. Those of you who've had me before, however, you know what's happened: We're at the point where I turn from a kind, cheerful, helpful teacher to an imperious bitch who hates your wretched, slimy, excuse-generating guts.*
To the student who's two and a half weeks late handing in a form:
What the hell is your problem? I see that you read my emails--the shiny red about-to-explode-with-urgency emails, the emails that tell you to PLEASE email me because I CAN HELP YOU with whatever is holding up this process. WTF? Why aren't you answering them? What is the problem, nutso? Don't you realize that not replying to me is absolutely the worst thing that you can do in this situation? You can't avoid me. I direct this program. Answer my goddamn emails al-fucking-ready.
To the slacker who sent me several emails asking for unreasonable extensions, and who replied to my lengthy explanation of why those extensions were unreasonable with a terse, "I'm sorry that my requests upset you,"
Good lord. You didn't "upset" me. You irritated me, and your sense of cheerful entitlement was rather perplexing, but I'm not "upset." Now, of course, I am a little more irritated than I was previously, so perhaps that will make you feel better? Anyway, as I clearly stated, you had plenty of time to do these assignments--and maybe if you gave me any indication that you had even acquired the books for this (literature!!!) class, I'd be more disposed to help you out.
To the 90% of my composition class who is not currently in the "A"-range,
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, READ THE FUCKING ASSIGNMENT SHEET. How can you complete an assignment if you don't know what it is? What the hell are you writing in your drafts, anyway? And here's a tip: If I say in the prompt that you cannot use websites as sources, then you can be pretty confident that I won't accept websites as sources. Who do you think grades these papers, anyway? What's your damage? Jesus! I write out a full page (longer than most of your actual papers, btw) explaining how to complete the assignment, and all indications suggest that fewer than half of you even get through the first paragraph. My prose isn't that tortured. You can do it. One page! READ IT!!!!
And, as a special bonus, let's excoriate IT while we're at it! Dear IT,
What have you done to my webmail? Why is it so slow? It makes me want to kill myself. Really. If I am found dead, it will be your fault. I hate everything. And you did this to me.
All right.
Sigh.
Most of you are fine, really. But if you want to take any of these characters outside for a little beat-down, be my guest.
*I don't, actually. In case a reminder was needed. But this is the point where I get pretty damn irritated, and I fear that my carefully polite emails to students might reveal the rage that I, in my careful wording, am working so hard to conceal. Here, however, in the interest of therapy, I am writing the emails that I would really, truly like to send (but I'm pretty sure that I'd regret it in the morning).
I fear that we have reached a certain point in the semester. You might have seen it coming, or you might have been so blinded by my encouraging smiles that it will leave you scarred and trembling beneath your desks, unable to complete your midterm papers. Those of you who've had me before, however, you know what's happened: We're at the point where I turn from a kind, cheerful, helpful teacher to an imperious bitch who hates your wretched, slimy, excuse-generating guts.*
To the student who's two and a half weeks late handing in a form:
What the hell is your problem? I see that you read my emails--the shiny red about-to-explode-with-urgency emails, the emails that tell you to PLEASE email me because I CAN HELP YOU with whatever is holding up this process. WTF? Why aren't you answering them? What is the problem, nutso? Don't you realize that not replying to me is absolutely the worst thing that you can do in this situation? You can't avoid me. I direct this program. Answer my goddamn emails al-fucking-ready.
To the slacker who sent me several emails asking for unreasonable extensions, and who replied to my lengthy explanation of why those extensions were unreasonable with a terse, "I'm sorry that my requests upset you,"
Good lord. You didn't "upset" me. You irritated me, and your sense of cheerful entitlement was rather perplexing, but I'm not "upset." Now, of course, I am a little more irritated than I was previously, so perhaps that will make you feel better? Anyway, as I clearly stated, you had plenty of time to do these assignments--and maybe if you gave me any indication that you had even acquired the books for this (literature!!!) class, I'd be more disposed to help you out.
To the 90% of my composition class who is not currently in the "A"-range,
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, READ THE FUCKING ASSIGNMENT SHEET. How can you complete an assignment if you don't know what it is? What the hell are you writing in your drafts, anyway? And here's a tip: If I say in the prompt that you cannot use websites as sources, then you can be pretty confident that I won't accept websites as sources. Who do you think grades these papers, anyway? What's your damage? Jesus! I write out a full page (longer than most of your actual papers, btw) explaining how to complete the assignment, and all indications suggest that fewer than half of you even get through the first paragraph. My prose isn't that tortured. You can do it. One page! READ IT!!!!
And, as a special bonus, let's excoriate IT while we're at it! Dear IT,
What have you done to my webmail? Why is it so slow? It makes me want to kill myself. Really. If I am found dead, it will be your fault. I hate everything. And you did this to me.
All right.
Sigh.
Most of you are fine, really. But if you want to take any of these characters outside for a little beat-down, be my guest.
*I don't, actually. In case a reminder was needed. But this is the point where I get pretty damn irritated, and I fear that my carefully polite emails to students might reveal the rage that I, in my careful wording, am working so hard to conceal. Here, however, in the interest of therapy, I am writing the emails that I would really, truly like to send (but I'm pretty sure that I'd regret it in the morning).
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Bigfishism
There are many ways to take the following anecdote, but I've settled on the most personally flattering.
Provost candidate is on campus. My chair is chairing the committee. They're having an informal chat the evening of the candidate's arrival, when Candidate says,
"I've been reading about your faculty. Tell me about this Heu Mihi."
Chair says that yeah, I'm pretty great. Natch.
Ze names my undergrad and graduate institutions and says something (again, natch) about how awesome I must be. What is someone like me, hir point is, doing at a place like this? And how do they keep me around?
Chair agrees that this is one of the challenges that the college has to face--figuring out what kinds of support new faculty (me and others like me, e.g. TM) need to be happy here.
Candidate agrees that this must be a priority.
So either this is hugely complimentary--that the candidate singled me out for accolades--or a pretty shabby statement on my job market success/lack thereof.
(Of course, all ze could have gleaned from my blurb was where I went to school and my two accepted/published articles; I can say without bragging, though, that I might stand out a bit on the website--few of our faculty have significant referreed publications, and most went to graduate schools more or less in the area. And also, Candidate is an Englishy type, so it makes sense that ze would've looked at our deparmtent more closely. Nonetheless! I remain flattered. And of course I now think that the candidate is awesome, too: proof that the system works.)
Provost candidate is on campus. My chair is chairing the committee. They're having an informal chat the evening of the candidate's arrival, when Candidate says,
"I've been reading about your faculty. Tell me about this Heu Mihi."
Chair says that yeah, I'm pretty great. Natch.
Ze names my undergrad and graduate institutions and says something (again, natch) about how awesome I must be. What is someone like me, hir point is, doing at a place like this? And how do they keep me around?
Chair agrees that this is one of the challenges that the college has to face--figuring out what kinds of support new faculty (me and others like me, e.g. TM) need to be happy here.
Candidate agrees that this must be a priority.
So either this is hugely complimentary--that the candidate singled me out for accolades--or a pretty shabby statement on my job market success/lack thereof.
(Of course, all ze could have gleaned from my blurb was where I went to school and my two accepted/published articles; I can say without bragging, though, that I might stand out a bit on the website--few of our faculty have significant referreed publications, and most went to graduate schools more or less in the area. And also, Candidate is an Englishy type, so it makes sense that ze would've looked at our deparmtent more closely. Nonetheless! I remain flattered. And of course I now think that the candidate is awesome, too: proof that the system works.)
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