Tinkering Aloud

First, thanks for the nice wishes expressed in the comments to my last post. I am feeling better, although I still get achy and tired pretty quickly when doing normal things (like hanging laundry). I'm officially banned from strenuous activity for two weeks, and honestly I have no inclination to do any--but I am looking forward to feeling better and being able to get some exercise, for god's sake. It's been ages.

On to more, well, current matters. Pressing, even. Classes start tomorrow, and I'm in the endless-tinkering phase of syallbizing. (By the way, I agree with Crazy that we should just lop off this first week. It's goofy. And I'm not ready.) Once again, I'm changing the structure of my assignments for the survey. Let me review my iterations: First, I tried four response papers, two major papers, and a midterm exam. Then four response papers, two major papers, and no exams. Then three "position" (aka response) papers, two major papers, a midterm, and a final. Reinstating the midterm and adding the final were an effort to get students to quit summarizing things like the characteristics of Romantic poetry in their papers--to give them, in other words, a space to regurgitate course material that was separate from the space where they were supposed to engage in analysis. Then, in response to complaints about "two finals" (since the final paper was due at the end of the semester), I used the same set of assignments but staggered the papers so that the final paper was due a couple of weeks before the exam.

This year, I decided to try a new approach. Response papers (or "position" papers, the new name being an attempt to move away from "I love this poem because it reminds my of my boyfriend" or "I think that Byron is boring") were a source of endless frustration to me. While the students who had a lot of experience with college-level English courses usually did fine--thereby accruing a bunch of easy points, which was a problem in itself--those who didn't get it were disasters, and, for those students, nothing I said seemed to clarify that these were academic exercises and not personal reflections. So I jettisoned them. Basically I realized that most of the students in the class either were taking it for gen ed credit, and therefore didn't have the basics of college-level literature writing, or were early English majors, who may still not have that much experience with close reading, thesis-driven literature papers, etc. I also decided that their awareness of such historical information as the definition of "metaphysical poetry" or the differences between Old and Middle English, while important, was not as important as their acquisition of the ability to discuss literature in an intelligent way, and that I couldn't necessarily cover both of these things well. Or, at any rate, I needed to try focusing on the skills and ability development for a while, since trying to do both created far too much work for all of us (not to mention shoddy results on both counts).

So this fall, I gave them six assignments: a close reading paper (which I demo'ed in class), a Chaucer presentation, a dramatic interpretation (the latter two were done in groups), a paraphrase and analysis of a poem, a paper in which they attacked or defended a thesis that I gave them, and an original thesis-driven analysis. It sort of worked. Grades in this course were actually a little higher than usual last semester.

This semester, then, I'm trying something similar, only with seven assignments: A one-page (essentially diagnostic) response to a Wordsworth poem (in light of the Preface), three two-page close readings (one on a Romantic poem, one on a Victorian poem, and one on a passage of Modernist prose), and, interspersed throughout, long(er) papers for each major movement: one on the late eighteenth/early nineteenth century narratives that we're reading, one on our Victorian narratives, and one on a topic of their choosing (with some suggestions provided by me).

And I'm stuck on a couple of stupid things. Should the Victorian paper be four or five pages long? It's worth 20% of the grade; the Romantic paper is only four pages and 15%. Should I specify the topic for the Victorian paper?

I also worry that I (habitually) assign far too much in this course. Fretful Porpentine writes about selecting the big novel for Brit Lit II; I teach, well, at least two big ones (Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre, and also To the Lighthouse, which is shorter but harder), but those also seem to be the texts that everyone gets most into. (Well, maybe not Lighthouse, but I heart it and I think that it's a far more compelling introduction to Modernist prose than Joyce ever is.) At this point, they've bought their books, and I'm not changing this stuff, but goodness. Is this course way too much work? Maybe the four-page Victorian paper will be okay. And should I throw away Jekyll and Hyde, of which I'm heartily sick, despite its cool pairing with The Lifted Veil?

Boring post, yes. Clearly I need to just shut up and go print the suckers out.

Home from the Hospital

I did not let my pathological fear of spending money impede my health. No: I had my Procedure yesterday, and it was successful. The heart issue should be resolved.

In fact, I turned out to be at a slightly higher risk for Bad Things as I had not one but two extra nerves in my heart; thus the possibility of the condition's becoming "Incompatible with Life" was greater than it might have been. But everything is fine. I went in at 8 and started getting prepped at around 8:45--IV's and electrodes were slapped on me, lots of people explained lots of things, I was wheeled around, and then there was a mask over my mouth and I was told to breathe deeply. I breathed once--twice--three times--and the next thing I knew was the nurse's voice in my ear telling me that the procedure had been entirely successful. Then the anesthesiologist said something to me, and then I think that I told the nurse that my throat hurt--it's all very hazy--and she said that she'd give me something for that. All of a sudden I felt even woozier and sort of floaty; she'd given me a "narcotic," and I did not object. So after about an hour in the hectic recovery room I was taken up to a private room, where TM and my mother met me. They gave me a pain pill and I almost immediately threw up. But some anti-nausea medication and a little bit of food enabled me to keep down some Tylenol, and I felt better.

(Heart with Wolf Parkinson White creating a circuit of electricity that causes palpitations)

In time I got up and walked around, leaning on TM's arm. It felt vaguely like Taking a Turn about the Baths. It surprised me how weak and light-headed I was--I couldn't go very far that first time, just down to the lounge where there was a beautiful bird cage with little bright birds in it.

We spent the night in the hospital, TM on the chair in my room and my mom in the lounge. I didn't sleep much, since I couldn't get into very many positions (I had several bandages on me and an IV) and people kept coming in to change things and check things and DO things. An EKG at 5 am, for example. But we were out by 11 am and drove home through the snow.

What's surprising to me is the toll that it's taken on my body. The procedure itself was minimally invasive--a tube up through a vein, another through an artery, and a thing at my shoulder (I've forgotten why that one was there). (The two primary tubes went up from the groin, and I awoke to find that I'd been, er, shaved. A little startling.) So they go up through the vein, and poke around, and stimulate the heart with adrenaline, and burn the extra nerves. Four hours of operating, less than 5 hours unconscious. Apparently what makes the body so achy is the lying still: my joints and muscles are all sore and stiff. But the incision sites--as small as those incisions are--are sore, and especially the muscles in my upper legs, presumably just from their poking around in there. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to recovery from more serious surgery.

(I'd also just like to mention, even though I can't name the hospital, how fabulous everyone there was. So friendly and cheerful and helpful. They all seemed to be in a good mood, even--especially--right before the procedure itself, which did a lot to assuage both my and my family's anxiety. And the doctor checked in with TM and my mom about every 45 minutes throughout the process, which they really appreciated. All in all, terrific care. So thanks, Major Ordinary City Hospital!)

The horror! A service-request bleg.

I just got an email asking me to be a representative on something for which I am, I'm convinced, the WORST possible choice--but the reasons that I'm such a bad choice aren't such that I could voice them. I.e., I find most of the people in this group incredibly annoying and I make fun of them in my head (and to TM) all the time, and I have various campus-political views that aren't in line with what many of the vocal members of this group espouse. It wouldn't be too terribly hideous, time-commitment-wise--one meeting a month--but oh, a part of me will die in every meeting, seriously. The banality! The jargon! And my nemesis will surely be a dominant speaker at every gathering.

Is there any conceivable excuse that I could give to get out of it? I mean, okay, maybe I'd a) come to tolerate the Other Side a little more or b) get the Other Side to see the Good Side's perspective and become more sensible, but agh, no, I would so so rather not be involved.

Ideas, anyone? Or am I doomed?

Least pithy ad campaign

Received in today's mail, and written out in prominent blue type, over a collection of smiling multiracial people with their arms around each other:

Q: How long can your kids remain covered under your health or dental plan?

A: Much longer than before in many cases.

Maybe it's the wordiness, or the vagueness of "longer than before" and "in many cases," but I find this curiously hilarious.

In other cheering news, Priss, our most melodramatic cat, has fallen in love with her new toy (a piece of string) and has taken to carrying it up to us and then meowing piteously (her meows are always piteous) until we play with her. It's really cute, and fascinating that she seems to understand play: she knows that we're the agents of the string's action, and she knows that she can get us to drag it around in the amusing fashion that pleases her so. I know that a lot of pets do this, but it's some pretty higher-order thinking, isn't it?

New Year's Day and we're off to a poky start

Two posts in December, eh? That's a new low for me, I think. Hm. Maybe Resolution # 4 will be to do something about the pitiable rate-of-blogging around here.

Anyway, the holidays were fine etc. etc. Relaxed at Mom's house until we just sort of had to...escape. I can't relax for too long, I find. (I used to claim that I didn't understand the need to "relax," but somehow having an actual job has changed my tune there. I've noticed that I have a propensity for making sweeping and unfounded pronouncements of that sort. It could be endearing. I suspect that it's annoying and bizarre.) Anyway, after a few days of Mom's House of Decadence--with the wine, and the cookies, and the hugely fat cat, and the squishy dusty sofa, and the movies on demand--I kind of start despising myself. I need activity. So it was a lovely visit and it was lovely to come home.

I'm feeling a bit put out about how 2010 is starting off, though. First, I am, frankly, anxious about next week's very very safe "procedure"--the heart thing--and am even more anxious (I hate to admit) about the $1700 price tag. I mean, thank goodness I have insurance, etc. (If I didn't, though, I just wouldn't have had this checked out, and the likelihood of its actually killing me is minuscule, soo...? Okay, are my priorities completely off here?) But that's a solid slab of cash. And TM and I, with our loans and on our salaries (hooray we have full-time jobs, but still--Field just ranked in as the lowest-paying college in the state, at least among colleges and universities that shared their salary information), are not rolling in dough. The money issue alarms me. I'm also hoping to go on a couple of trips next year--one to Ireland with my mom, and one to an overseas conference, and there's talk of going somewhere fun for spring break--so...yeah, my priorities are ridiculous. Never mind. Writing this paragraph has made it clear that no one should pity me at all.

Nonetheless, this stuff is stressing me out, and, since we start classes on the 11th, I'm feeling that I won't really have the chance to restore myself and get all organized and refreshed for the semester ahead. And I am also consequently beating myself up for not being more upbeat and energetic during these last weeks.

Another reason for the sluggishness, at least today, is that I celebrated New Year's Eve with a scorching urinary tract infection that hit me just before midnight. (Prior to that, TM and I had a lovely quiet evening together, full of fun and delight. It wasn't all bad, by any means.) So I stayed up in the bathroom until 4 am reading and shivering (it's damn cold here) and drinking appropriately calibrated fluids. It's pretty much gone now, though I'm still guzzling cranberry juice to make sure, and I've had some naps and things and feel okay. But heck, today has not been the restorative and energizing January 1st that I typically enjoy. And the irony of getting this infection really no earlier than 11 pm, so that it fully hit me right around midnight, after more than a decade with no such troubles--hell, what's that about? In a completely irrational way I'm a little worried about this year.

But okay, it's time to move on from all that. 2009 was, in many ways, pretty awesome. TM and I got engaged, moved in together, and got married. We traveled to Dominca and France. I gave papers at Kalamazoo and Leeds. I got a book contract and scored an extra course release for next semester. My brother and his wife conceived a child. In fact, other than the irritating medical issues and, oh, the health care debates, wars, etc., it was a pretty good year.

Here's what I'd like to think about for next year.

1) I want to work on learning to promote my research and to network better (an idea I got from a recent post of Dr. Crazy's). I suck at these things, actually changing the subject when people ask me about my work, and this is a problem.

2) I want to more consistently make time to exercise, but I need to give some very concrete thought to what this will look like before I make some kind of resolution, since amorphous "exercise more!"-type resolutions don't work very well. In fact, I need to be more concrete about no. 1, too.

3) Work on my relationship with money. I don't like the fact that what scares me about my procedure is the cost (which is not even all THAT unreasonable, and which I can cover quite easily from my savings), and that the price actually makes me want to cancel it, despite the preceding parenthesis. Anxiety about money hampered my enjoyment of our France trip last summer. These things bother me; I am not at all wealthy but neither am I about to starve. I am not profligate, so the occasional bigger expense is not a catastrophe. I'm trying to see next week's credit card hit as an opportunity to work on how I think about money: to be grateful, for example, for its ability to cover such costs without actually affecting my day-to-day living at all, rather than begrudging its removal from my account. I think that it's very important that I try to do this.

There are other things I'm kicking around, too--I sure do love me some self-improvement--but I think that that's enough for now. Time for a glass of cranberry juice. And happy new year, everyone!

Why isn't anyone blogging?

OK, I know. I've not exactly been the poster child of blogger profligacy.

But I dunno, things aren't very exciting. I entered all my final grades today, so that's done. Then I wrapped presents at the homeless shelter for two hours. Might I add that I had a blast? I didn't really talk to anyone, just totally focused on picking out and wrapping the presents. The only bad part was that all the presents for girls were HYPER pink, and I couldn't bear to give anyone a Barbie or Barbieclone. This might prompt me to buy some cool books or something to donate next year--I mean, not all young females are in love with make-up and the prospect of giant boobs.

Leaving on Friday for Northern City, followed a few days later by The Great Drive East.

The cats are really snuggly lately. You can't sit down without a Priss creeping into your lap.

We had four parties at our house last week--two final seminar parties (TM's seminar met right before mine, so there was some awkward overlap where my students had to stand around the kitchen with me while I made coffee), a party for the Philosophy and Religion majors, and then a party for our friends and ALL THEIR MILLION KIDS on Sunday night. Good lord. I didn't actually expect all the small noisy people to show up, but there they were. There was a frenzy of coloring (and, apparently, almond-spitting) in the upstairs guest room/attic, then everyone was gone. It was a fun party, though.

Erm...anything else? I don't think so. See? I told you I had nothing much to say.

Hold on a sec.

OK, so one of the arguments that's often trotted out when debating the merits of pumping money into athletics (at a very low-budget, D3, not-at-all-athletically-accomplished college), excusing students who are struggling with their courses from classes to play sports, and admitting patently unprepared students to the college so that they can play football for a year before dropping out.... Um, let me start over. One of the arguments that's often trotted out when debating the merits of the three above-cited things is that college sports brings in money. Alumni like to come back for Homecoming, and having a successful football (or, I suppose, baseball or soccer or softball) team is likely to get them to chip in a few bucks.

Setting aside for the moment that, at Field, this clearly does not work (our alums love the College but our alumni giving is in the neighborhood of 15%), what usually happens when this argument is raised is that we then begin discussing whether that works given the poverty of our teams, how much alumni actually give, whether we're abiding by the rules of D3 recruiting, etc.

But tonight it occurred to me that this rationale is patently unethical.

If we're talking about the weak students here, and not the ones who can successfully balance academics and athletics--and we are talking about them, because this is my blog--then what we're saying is that it's OK to sucker them into coming to a school for which they are not prepared, getting them to shell out a semester's or a year's worth of tuition, and then depriving them of sufficient academic support by requiring them to attend a battery of practices, weight-training sessions, and games at the (occasional) expense of class attendance and (frequent) expense of study time, all in the service of fundraising.

?

In what way is this not exploitation?