I just read a short paper by one of my students, and it's appallingly misogynistic. Appallingly. He actually says that women are inferior and that men don't need them; that all they're good for is child-bearing.
I believe that this student is serious, because he said some similar things (and other crazy sexist stuff) in class the other day, and in an earlier paper he referred to his ex-girlfriend as a whore, going into quite a bit of detail about how awful she was.
I just sent my department chair a lengthy email describing the paper and asking her what I should do--whether there's someone on campus I can go to with this, or what.
The thing is, I don't want to teach him. I just don't. I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to be able to change his views on women this semester (and how would I do that?), but by continuing to teach him--and possibly passing him--I feel that I'd be endorsing, or at least permitting, his view. I'm on the verge of tears writing this; his paper was so hateful and insane that I'm not sure how to cope with him. (He's always decently polite in class, by the way, so it's not as though I've had problems with him in the past.)
I just feel shocked and appalled and--attacked, frankly. And I'm afraid that, even if he stops writing this kind of horrible garbage, he'll still be thinking it, and I don't know what to do about that.
*****************************************************
And with that, I just might stop working for the night. Where's that beer?
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Oh, the Things I Need to Do
5:00 might be a little late for a to-do list, fine. FINE. But here it is anyway, because this must be an Evening of Productivity. And possibly of Beer, As Well.
Boring post, sorry. But that's the view from here.
- finish grading comp papers
- prep one class (just one! The other's getting done tomorrow)
- fix a healthy dinner, for God's sake
- making a few minor revisions to the CV and book proposal--nah, just the CV (hey, how do you cross things out in Blogger?)
- read one article
- (maybe) rough out revisions to the Conditional Article
Boring post, sorry. But that's the view from here.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Conditional Triumph
My article has been (conditionally) accepted! I have some very minor revisions to make and one or two issues to sort out, and then that annoying parenthetical can--I hope--be deleted. Huzzah!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Much Better Now
Yeah, I don't know what was going on with me this morning. Or last night, either. I was in some kind of blue place: feeling very vulnerable and alarmed. About everything. By mid-day today, though, all was well again, and I can't remember what I was so freaked out about.
No, I'm not on top of my grading (I'll get through it this weekend) and yes, I have a really difficult class to prepare for tomorrow (with a virtual guarantee that half of them won't have done the reading--it's hard, and papers are due--and that those that have won't understand it, so, you know, eck), but it's okay. Everything is just fine.
You know what's funny? I think that that expressionless stare I mentioned in my last post has something to do with my improved mood. In the first weeks of class, I was pretty unnerved by any and all discipline issues (nothing too major, but I have some whisperers in one section and a couple of jokey, noisy students in another). For a long time, I didn't feel comfortable telling them to knock it off or otherwise being stern. And, well, I'm pretty much getting over that. I'm also a lot less panicky about those students who consistently just say things in class that are way the hell off. At first I would try to salvage some meaning from them ("Yes, there is a sense in which Beowulf really just wants to be loved"--okay, I never said that, nor would I ever, but you get the idea), but at this point--hey! I'm the professor! And, well, you're wrong! Next!
(I'm gentler than that, obviously. But my Strategies of Redirection are definitely improving.)
One thing I'm trying this year is keeping a teaching diary. So after every class, more or less, I write a little paragraph about what I did, how it went, my thoughts on my performance, and any issues with students that came up. It's still pretty early in the year, so I haven't reread any of this yet, but it's helping me to think of the development of my teaching skills as a process--something that will change and (presumably) improve with time. It's also nice to reflect on things that worked. Such as having a great discussion on X topic (I try to note the topic), or really feeling confident and in control of the material, or actually having fun now and again. I think that this diary will be a good tool down the line, too, and will help with all kinds of things, such as answering teaching questions in job interviews or remembering how in the hell I've taught Spenser in the past. Also--while I don't think that this'll be an issue--in the unlikely event that I have a real problem with a student, I'll have a record of any questionable interactions with him/her from the beginning.
(No, I haven't had any questionable interactions yet. But I'll write them down if I do.)
So yeah. It's a challenge. It's a challenge, quite frankly, just having a proper job: In grad school, I never had this many obligations--of the kind that have to be met immediately, with dire consequences if they aren't. And I'm learning. It'll be fine, just fine. All shall be well and all that.
No, I'm not on top of my grading (I'll get through it this weekend) and yes, I have a really difficult class to prepare for tomorrow (with a virtual guarantee that half of them won't have done the reading--it's hard, and papers are due--and that those that have won't understand it, so, you know, eck), but it's okay. Everything is just fine.
You know what's funny? I think that that expressionless stare I mentioned in my last post has something to do with my improved mood. In the first weeks of class, I was pretty unnerved by any and all discipline issues (nothing too major, but I have some whisperers in one section and a couple of jokey, noisy students in another). For a long time, I didn't feel comfortable telling them to knock it off or otherwise being stern. And, well, I'm pretty much getting over that. I'm also a lot less panicky about those students who consistently just say things in class that are way the hell off. At first I would try to salvage some meaning from them ("Yes, there is a sense in which Beowulf really just wants to be loved"--okay, I never said that, nor would I ever, but you get the idea), but at this point--hey! I'm the professor! And, well, you're wrong! Next!
(I'm gentler than that, obviously. But my Strategies of Redirection are definitely improving.)
One thing I'm trying this year is keeping a teaching diary. So after every class, more or less, I write a little paragraph about what I did, how it went, my thoughts on my performance, and any issues with students that came up. It's still pretty early in the year, so I haven't reread any of this yet, but it's helping me to think of the development of my teaching skills as a process--something that will change and (presumably) improve with time. It's also nice to reflect on things that worked. Such as having a great discussion on X topic (I try to note the topic), or really feeling confident and in control of the material, or actually having fun now and again. I think that this diary will be a good tool down the line, too, and will help with all kinds of things, such as answering teaching questions in job interviews or remembering how in the hell I've taught Spenser in the past. Also--while I don't think that this'll be an issue--in the unlikely event that I have a real problem with a student, I'll have a record of any questionable interactions with him/her from the beginning.
(No, I haven't had any questionable interactions yet. But I'll write them down if I do.)
So yeah. It's a challenge. It's a challenge, quite frankly, just having a proper job: In grad school, I never had this many obligations--of the kind that have to be met immediately, with dire consequences if they aren't. And I'm learning. It'll be fine, just fine. All shall be well and all that.
In stark contrast to my previous post
Not much to report. Just checking in to say that I'm tired. And a little cranky. And somehow behind in my work, only two days into the week, after a solidly productive weekend. What the hell?
Grumble, grumble. Too much to do today and all I want to do is sleep in....
But okay, I think I know what's going on. We're in the middle 1/3 of the semester (it's the 6th week, after all), and, as Porpentine recently said, the honeymoon is over. A good number of my students don't seem to be keeping up with the reading. Some of the freshmen seem to have become more relaxed with one another and simultaneously less concerned with impressing me. And I, I am tired. I need an actual day, or even just a half-day, entirely off: when I can be thinking about things other than classes and not dwelling on how much work I'll have to do later, once the non-working is over.
In better news, though, once Wednesday is finished, I always feel as though the weekend is almost upon me. Each class just meets one more time, and then I get two days away from campus! Hooray!
ETA: Coffee helps--as does the realization that there might be a hormonal element to my particular despair (much as I hate admitting to that as a cause). I feel much more capable of dealing with the world now. And today, we are talking about what kinds of claims can and cannot be defended--even though technically that's supposed to be the focus of Comp II. Whatever. Today, the stick bears down.
(--In the mildest possible fashion. Seriously, I am not a scary teacher. Although I am working on a certain expressionless stare that seems to be effective in dealing with the more rambunctious elements....)
ETA2: Another thing that's probably stressing me out? I should be hearing back about an article any day now. I'm very nervous and hopeful; somehow I've convinced myself that my entire future rides on this thing (which it doesn't! it doesn't!).
Grumble, grumble. Too much to do today and all I want to do is sleep in....
But okay, I think I know what's going on. We're in the middle 1/3 of the semester (it's the 6th week, after all), and, as Porpentine recently said, the honeymoon is over. A good number of my students don't seem to be keeping up with the reading. Some of the freshmen seem to have become more relaxed with one another and simultaneously less concerned with impressing me. And I, I am tired. I need an actual day, or even just a half-day, entirely off: when I can be thinking about things other than classes and not dwelling on how much work I'll have to do later, once the non-working is over.
In better news, though, once Wednesday is finished, I always feel as though the weekend is almost upon me. Each class just meets one more time, and then I get two days away from campus! Hooray!
ETA: Coffee helps--as does the realization that there might be a hormonal element to my particular despair (much as I hate admitting to that as a cause). I feel much more capable of dealing with the world now. And today, we are talking about what kinds of claims can and cannot be defended--even though technically that's supposed to be the focus of Comp II. Whatever. Today, the stick bears down.
(--In the mildest possible fashion. Seriously, I am not a scary teacher. Although I am working on a certain expressionless stare that seems to be effective in dealing with the more rambunctious elements....)
ETA2: Another thing that's probably stressing me out? I should be hearing back about an article any day now. I'm very nervous and hopeful; somehow I've convinced myself that my entire future rides on this thing (which it doesn't! it doesn't!).
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Lunatic
Last night, as I was tossing about in bed getting ready to sleep, I noticed quite a bright light coming in through my blinds. As I live in the middle of the fields and there usually isn't a lot of ambient, urban-type light around here at night, I got up to look out the window and see what all the brilliance was about. And no, it wasn't some brand-new street lamp grinning in the window, but the moon--a just-past-half-full moon visible beyond the black branches of the tree in the side yard.
I've always had a thing about moonlight. I remember the first time I really noticed moonlight: I was twelve, and I'd got up to go to the bathroom. On my way back to my room, I saw a strangely bright, bluish light striking the wall above the stairs that went down to the first floor. There was a semi-circular window high up above the front door--we had one of those two-story foyers that were all the rage--and its shape was perfectly replicated in blue-white light. Intrigued, I went down a few steps until I was standing right in the gleaming half-disk. Before me, framed in the window, was the full, white moon. I stood there for a while in a kind of awe. I was a kid who loved fairy tales and fantasy, and the moon had some kind of resonance for me--This is what they're always talking about, I must have thought. The bright white moonlight. A moon so bright you can see by it.
I've noticed the moon here, often--almost every time I've come home after dark, in fact. I'm amazed at how clearly it lights up the yards and the houses, the shadows it casts through the trees. The moon always fills me with a weird kind of yearning: that's the word for it, yearning. I don't know what I yearn for, exactly, when I see the moon, but a powerful desire for something comes over me, a desire mingled with a nostalgia for a time I can't remember. If I had to guess, I'd say that I'm yearning for a life in which the moonlight matters, if that makes sense. In which I'm aware of it on a daily basis, and it makes a difference.
So last night I opened my blind, and then lifted the screen so that I could actually put my head and shoulders out the window and see the sky more clearly. The stars were out, too, though somewhat dwarfed by the brilliance of the moon. It's more than a little trite, I know, but it's easy for me to imagine the vastness of the universe when I look at the stars. I find them somehow reassuring. The world is big and wide and the moon is high and cold; the stars burn on and on and on. I knelt there for a long time, looking at the moon and the stars and the blue light on the grass, the black branches against the sky. When I finally went to bed, I left the shade up so that the moonlight could rake across me in my sleep.
Attention to such things: it's something I've usually lost--or never had, more likely. Not with any kind of consistency. Mindfulness, awareness of the existence of your own life, starts in such long looks. I also spent fifteen minutes last night watching a tiny bug that I had rescued from drowning dry itself off in the palm of my hand. Perhaps I needed these moments last night. Watching the bug slowly uncoil its antennae and reach a trembling limb out to the tip of my thumb, or the spinning of a leaf black in the white of the moon, I felt a kind of connection with things outside of myself (and my job). I slept well and dreamed vividly in the moonlight.
I've always had a thing about moonlight. I remember the first time I really noticed moonlight: I was twelve, and I'd got up to go to the bathroom. On my way back to my room, I saw a strangely bright, bluish light striking the wall above the stairs that went down to the first floor. There was a semi-circular window high up above the front door--we had one of those two-story foyers that were all the rage--and its shape was perfectly replicated in blue-white light. Intrigued, I went down a few steps until I was standing right in the gleaming half-disk. Before me, framed in the window, was the full, white moon. I stood there for a while in a kind of awe. I was a kid who loved fairy tales and fantasy, and the moon had some kind of resonance for me--This is what they're always talking about, I must have thought. The bright white moonlight. A moon so bright you can see by it.
I've noticed the moon here, often--almost every time I've come home after dark, in fact. I'm amazed at how clearly it lights up the yards and the houses, the shadows it casts through the trees. The moon always fills me with a weird kind of yearning: that's the word for it, yearning. I don't know what I yearn for, exactly, when I see the moon, but a powerful desire for something comes over me, a desire mingled with a nostalgia for a time I can't remember. If I had to guess, I'd say that I'm yearning for a life in which the moonlight matters, if that makes sense. In which I'm aware of it on a daily basis, and it makes a difference.
So last night I opened my blind, and then lifted the screen so that I could actually put my head and shoulders out the window and see the sky more clearly. The stars were out, too, though somewhat dwarfed by the brilliance of the moon. It's more than a little trite, I know, but it's easy for me to imagine the vastness of the universe when I look at the stars. I find them somehow reassuring. The world is big and wide and the moon is high and cold; the stars burn on and on and on. I knelt there for a long time, looking at the moon and the stars and the blue light on the grass, the black branches against the sky. When I finally went to bed, I left the shade up so that the moonlight could rake across me in my sleep.
Attention to such things: it's something I've usually lost--or never had, more likely. Not with any kind of consistency. Mindfulness, awareness of the existence of your own life, starts in such long looks. I also spent fifteen minutes last night watching a tiny bug that I had rescued from drowning dry itself off in the palm of my hand. Perhaps I needed these moments last night. Watching the bug slowly uncoil its antennae and reach a trembling limb out to the tip of my thumb, or the spinning of a leaf black in the white of the moon, I felt a kind of connection with things outside of myself (and my job). I slept well and dreamed vividly in the moonlight.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Ho Hum
It's Saturday night, and the plan is to watch a movie I've had sitting on my desk for lo these many (3) weeks. But my to-do list for the weekend is so long that I feel I have to do some more work before I get into that. Also I haven't done the dishes yet. The truth of the matter, however, is that I don't want to work any more. And so I'm mucking about on the internet, instead.
Today I have:
Weekends are just too short, though. I'm not at all used to this kind of schedule (o graduate school! how I miss thee, already!), and the weekdays just pass in a blur with no time to do anything outside of what's immediately required. Then there are the meetings, of which there are a lot more than I would have anticipated--departmental meetings, all-faculty meetings, new faculty meetings. And I've agreed to advise a student organization, which shouldn't take up too much time, but they're getting their year started and are meeting rather a lot at the moment. Oh, and yes, I'm trying to get some exercise a few times a week, since my new location doesn't give me the long daily walks that I'm used to. It's astounding how little time there is for anything else--even things like cooking and keeping the apartment reasonably clean--once all of that stuff is added up.
No, this isn't one long whine, although I know that it looks like it. I'm truly just amazed at how busy I am this year; I knew that I'd be busy, intellectually, but I don't think I'd quite absorbed the reality. (I've used that phrase hundreds of time in my life, I think. No wonder my dissertation had to do with experience as a means of gaining knowledge, eh?)
Meanwhile, a small mystery:
I received a yoga DVD in the mail the other day, with no note. The Boyfriend didn't send it to me; neither did my mother. There are a few other suspects, but I haven't fully investigated yet. I assume that I'll eventually figure out where it came from, but in case I don't, I would like to extend my appreciation here--thank you, anonymous sender! Even if you never read this (and unless you're a particular one of my suspects, you probably never will), my gratitude and pleasure is hereby publicly broadcast.
Today I have:
- read and prepped for 2 classes
- read for a third class
- ordered books for some down-the-line course prep
- graded 9 mid-length papers, 5 one-page papers, and two batches of a quick homework assignment (this grading, in toto, took 2.5 hours--my hand hurts)
- gone to the grocery store
Weekends are just too short, though. I'm not at all used to this kind of schedule (o graduate school! how I miss thee, already!), and the weekdays just pass in a blur with no time to do anything outside of what's immediately required. Then there are the meetings, of which there are a lot more than I would have anticipated--departmental meetings, all-faculty meetings, new faculty meetings. And I've agreed to advise a student organization, which shouldn't take up too much time, but they're getting their year started and are meeting rather a lot at the moment. Oh, and yes, I'm trying to get some exercise a few times a week, since my new location doesn't give me the long daily walks that I'm used to. It's astounding how little time there is for anything else--even things like cooking and keeping the apartment reasonably clean--once all of that stuff is added up.
No, this isn't one long whine, although I know that it looks like it. I'm truly just amazed at how busy I am this year; I knew that I'd be busy, intellectually, but I don't think I'd quite absorbed the reality. (I've used that phrase hundreds of time in my life, I think. No wonder my dissertation had to do with experience as a means of gaining knowledge, eh?)
Meanwhile, a small mystery:
I received a yoga DVD in the mail the other day, with no note. The Boyfriend didn't send it to me; neither did my mother. There are a few other suspects, but I haven't fully investigated yet. I assume that I'll eventually figure out where it came from, but in case I don't, I would like to extend my appreciation here--thank you, anonymous sender! Even if you never read this (and unless you're a particular one of my suspects, you probably never will), my gratitude and pleasure is hereby publicly broadcast.
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