Mix It Up and Combat Student Disinterest - And Because It Feels Good Too

After teaching the same freshman level course for the past two to three years a pattern emerged regardless of student profiles. Technical exercises and instruction stifled the class midsemester and student interest faded. This semester I vowed to radically change the order of instruction and yesterday it actually paid off.

Students attentively listened to lecture, took notes and raced to the front of the room to take a copy of the reading assignments with comments such as, "Oh good, I need that reading for reference."

As professors we expect students to arrive at college fully prepared and interested in the material, but that is unrealistic. Even if all students attended collegiate high schools, cultural and family attitudes toward academics affect behavior and performance as well. How many professors repeat the same thing semester after semester and blame students for disinterest?

We shouldn't be expected to entertain, but small changes can make big ripples.

Some Ways to Cope

At my university I teach the courses that regular faculty don't want to teach, and I do so for about 1/5th of the money that a normal faculty member gets. One time, I made the mistake of working out the per-student pay that I get to teach. With an enrollment of 200, that meant an eye-popping $26 per "pajama-bottomed mofo" (PBMF). And because I don't look much older than them, many think: "Sweet! Easy ride!!"

With that in mind, I had to harden up or be eaten alive. Here is how I keep contact with lousy students to a minimum, some tips passed on by kind senior faculty, some learned on my own.

• If you want to contest a grade, You have to do it in writing. (Heh heh. They can't, so they don't.)
• I can't possibly answer your emails and give you the appropriate amount of instruction it would take to answer your very good questions. Please see me during my office hours. (The lazy majority can't be bothered.Perfect. I only get good students showing up, and I'mhappy to help them.)
• Absolutely no make up tests whatsoever. This is a department wide policy. (Of course I tell them I'd let them, but my hands are tied. So I look like a sweetheart, and the department looks mean. Of course, I'd never give a make up exam anyway because it's a nuissance, and I'm paid $26/PBMF.)
• I do not post grades online with your student number truncated, for your privacy. (Actually, if students see their grades online, they're more inclined to fire off a nasty, hurtful email to complain since they're already sitting at a computer. If they have to come in to the department to see it posted on a door, they go away, allowing sufficient time to cool off. Then I hear from very few.)

I never ever make a single exception to any rule. I can't. I know that there's some poor kid with a genuine situation and they're going to get stiffed. But if I bend the rule for one, there's a line up at my door and an inbox full of "special requests." I would love to hear others' tricks of the trade.

Today's Student Takes The Cake, And Later Ends Up Choking On It

Despite my crabbing and bitching, I actually care whether my students "get" the material or not. This means that I am always available to the student who needs extra help and actually asks for it. In general, I'll do whatever I can (within reason) to help a student better understand the material. This includes referrals to our campus writing center, scheduling extra office hours and tutoring.

That may come to a screeching halt after Saturday's cake-winning experience.

Student C got her mid-semster (failing) grade notification on Thursday. After tears, drama, more tears, and wailed appeals, we agreed upon a tutoring session. She made an appointment to go over her previous papers, as well as the first draft of an upcoming paper worth about 15% of her final grade. Said appointment was for Saturday afternoon, lasting from 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM.

I reserved the library classroom, procured and paid a baby-sitter, and hiked into campus, only to sit all by my lonely self in the basement of the library for two hours.

As the baby-sitter had already been paid, I took advantage of the time and graded papers. I stayed for the entire two hours (and then some), hoping she was just running late. At 3:45 PM, I packed up and went home to cook dinner, and play with the kids a bit -- pretty much what I wanted to do all day today.

Predictably, my cell rang at 4:45 PM -- C had gotten hung up at the mall, and lost track of time -- could I still meet with her this evening? I explained that I had sacrificed the afternoon, and was unwilling to give up my evening, as well. Plus, the library was closed.

C asked if she could come to my house, because it was really, reeeeaaaalllyy important that we go over her papers. No dice.

She asked for a Sunday appointment. Politely, I said no -- Sunday is the only day my husband has off, and it is reserved for church and family time.

C proceeded to throw an Old Testament-style temper fit, complete with rending of clothing and tearing of hair, complaining that I "didn't care" if she flunked out of college, it was my fault she was failing the class, and she ended with the grand pronouncement that she was going to tell her father, who would "handle my bad attitude."

Oooh. I'm shaking in my boots. So are my department chair and the Dean. As we went over all of the documentation this morning, eyes were rolling like slot machines.

As I walked out of the office, I met C -- on her way to lodge her complaint. She gave me the self-satisfied smirk of someone who thinks thay have the upper hand. I wish I could have stayed to see her crestfallen appearance.

Where We Try to Sort Out the Whole Pajama Situation - And Today's Correspondent Gives It Up On the Fashion Tip

I don't understand why so many writers here are insulted by the pajama-wearing student, as if this symbolizes all that is wrong with higher education. Honestly, I don't see why it's such a big deal. First of all, they aren't really pajamas. Pajamas are too lightweight, and (for guys anyway) have the little slit in the crotch that precludes wearing them in public.

What you are all reacting so violently to is what I call "cozy pants," the flannel baggy pants that I put on the minute I get home. So I don't teach in my cozy pants. That's because I'm the teacher. When I was a student--and I was a good student, otherwise I wouldn't now be teaching at a research university--I, too, would roll out of bed, wash face, brush teeth, pull hair back into a ponytail and put on cozy pants and a T-shirt and run to class. I didn't think that how I dressed made any difference to the dude in front of the class who was himself wearing pants circa 1972 and a moth-eaten sweater or the woman whose bizarre collection of animal prints, gigantic faux African jewelry, and halitosis gave me a headache.

I was in college to learn, and I was up til the wee hours studying and trying to get just enough sleep before class that I could pay attention to what was going on. Hence the cozy pants. The well-dressed students were usually the ones who cared about being well-dressed and not about what was actually happening in the classroom. As a teacher I see this holds true today. There is little correlation between who is wearing cozy pants and who is doing good work. If anything, it's the students who look a little rough who do the better work. These cozy pants expose nothing that needs to be censored, unlike many of the other ensembles the students wear, and they keep the students comfy and help them get to class on time, so why on earth is everyone here at RYS so worried about whether or not the student is wearing cozy pants or not?

And please, every one of you, look at what you are wearing. Are you over forty and wearing a miniskirt? Are you wearing lycra/poly turtlenecks over pleated pants? You are, aren't you? Everyone here should 1) relax about the cozy pants. 2) watch What Not to Wear on TLC and think about what image their own disastrous outfits are projecting to the cozy-panted student body.

On Dropping the P-Bomb. Have Your Tissues Ready.

I teach an expository writing class at a fairly prestigious university on the East Coast. I've luckily experienced less after-the-fact grade-begging than some of my colleagues, which was a relief for the first few semesters I taught because I really hadn't yet felt confident in my own ability to put a solid letter grade on a piece of writing, and I might have caved.

A couple semesters ago, the confidence had solidified, and I was grading the 8-10-page essay of a student we'll call R. It was about 2:00 in the morning, and her essay was terrible - her thesis was basically that "different religions view science differently." That's not a thesis, as one can argue it in about one sentence, not 8-10 pages, and we had discussed in class many times what a thesis ought to look like.

While reading, I encountered a few passages that seemed to deviate from her normal writing style. Ordinarily I'd Google anything suspicious, but it was 2:00 AM, I didn't have a computer nearby, I wanted to hand back this essay the next morning, and I felt the paper's quality was going to sink it anyway. I ended up being slightly kind and giving the paper a "C," reserving D's and F's for students whose essays lacked effort rather than persuasiveness. After handing the paper back, R - who had otherwise been very pleasant - sent me an e-mail in a very officious tone, requesting a meeting to discuss the "C" she claimed not to deserve. I agreed to the dreaded meeting, but before meeting with her, I asked her to e-mail me a clean copy of the paper. After it arrived, I went to Google. Two could play at this game.

Sure enough, the passages I had suspected were indeed lifted from online sources. In fact, about a quarter of her paper could be found verbatim elsewhere. It killed me that she had the nerve to steal other people's writing and beg for a higher grade, but I still wanted to make sure she understood what was wrong with her thesis. So I printed a copy of everything she stole, highlighted the relevant sections, and kept it in reserve. The meeting began exactly as I thought it would. She bitched and moaned and insisted that her thesis was valid, since it's what she did in high school and no one ever reprimanded her then. She was perfectly willing to accept my definition of a thesis, but she refused to accept that hers did not meet the standard.

"It's a research paper," she kept saying, as though that was a fact I had overlooked. Finally, after about half an hour, I gave up. She wasn't going to budge. So I whipped out my ace in the hole. "Okay," I said, "you got me. You're right. You don't deserve a 'C.' You deserve an 'F.'"

Then I showed her the evidence of plagiarism, and it felt very, very good. The unfortunate epilogue that accompanies what would otherwise be a tale of sweet revenge is that she spent the next hour and a half crying and having me assure her that she'd still get into medical school someday. Never drop the plagiarism bomb on a student without bringing a box of tissues. But the "F" stuck.

Don't Let Grammar Get in the Way of Your College Plans!

I am a writing fellow at a fairly competitive private college. I am assigned 10 (freshmen) students a year and help them through their essay assignments. These students aren't referred to me, they, by the luck of the draw, happened to register for a course with the requirement to work with a writing fellow.

Some students are wonderful writers, others, terrible. I met with one freshman girl, who is also at the college on an athletic scholarship, two weeks ago. Her paper was terrible, and when I asked her about her writing process and what she was taught in high school, she said to me: "Oh, yeah, they tried to teach us writing, but none of us were interested in diagraming sentences or grammar, so they just gave up on us junior year. They figured we'd learn in college."

Learn it in college??? What is high school for, then? I wonder who wrote her application essay, how she made it through writing papers in high school, if they even had to do that. I know there are really great high school teachers out there, but clearly there aren't enough. I was baffled by the laziness of her teachers, and the willingness to let the students graduate without any idea how to organize an argument and back it up with evidence.

I realize not everyone is born to write well, but giving up on students because they don't want to learn? That's a new low.

Somebody Thinks He's Really Funny, And, Like, He's Going to Hell, Too.

Deer God,

I was like really ticked off and disapointed to wake up this morning and find myself at the Gate’s of Hell. For starters there sure not pearly, and second I was like really expecting to meet St. Peter. I cant believe u actually flunked me. I really think u should like consider that I was only taking Life pass/fail and I cant beleive I didnt even get like a D.

Nobody would even be in Life at all if it wasn’t a stupid requirement, so its really unfair of u make it so demanding. Your sillabis was really unclear and everybody thought it meant something different and the point system was really confusing. OK maybe I like hardly ever showed up for church and I like lusted after 3872 babes and I coveted, well, everything and stuff. And OK maybe I was like really only in Life to party. But I really tried hard for the last two or three weeks and I like never killed anybody or anything. so I like pretty much obeyed at least one of the comandment’s! So I really think I deserve some points for effort.

And I did do like three or four really good things. Like I held the door open for that old lady that time. U remember, dont I like get at least some credit for that?!! I just think your like a really harsh grader and your mean and you just get off on making people feel bad about theirselves and you treat us like a bunch of little kids with all your stupid rules and stuff. The only way to get a good grade from u is to like just agree with everything you say. I think u always had it in for me just cuz I took Your name in vane that time. so I just want u to know that I think u suck and I’m never taking Life with u again and wait’ll you see what I write about u on RateYourDeities.com!!!!

Have a nice eternity, jerk!!!!!
Joe Fratboy





Today's image is a treatment of a very small detail of a painting by a great painter named Larry Brown. We hope you'll check out his work. We aren't using the treatment with permission, and will gladly take it down if he wishes. Of course, if Michaelangelo wants to take it up with us, he'll just have to wait. We hope.

Letter to New Faculty

Hello and welcome to the University. I think you'll find teaching at a college to be a rewarding experience. Please adhere to the following 8 rules:

1. You are not to abuse your Xerox machine privilege and make more copies than is absolutely necessary. This helps us save money in ways that you'll never see on your paycheck.

2. You may not sleep with your students. No, not even if they're "totally begging for it." Please note: Sleeping with the Xerox machine or making copies of your students is, however, acceptable. When making copies of your students, we recommend only those that are getting a "B" or better. When sleeping with the Xerox machine we ask you call the next day. And would it kill you to send flowers?

3. If a student asks a question and you do not know the answer, simply say "I don't know, but I'll get back to you." The following are not acceptable responses: -"What? Sorry. I don't speak retarded," -"Sounds like a question a terrorist would ask," -"You know, your mom asked me that same thing last night."

4. You are entitled to one free punch of any student you like during your career, but only ONE. So make it count. If you can hit more than one student with a single punch this will be acceptable.

5. The following do not count as official reasons to cancel class: -"No Pants Day" (We found that this is not an official holiday either in the US or Canada) -"Let's see if I can chug my way to a better profession day," - "Wednesday."

6. If you must cancel class for personal reasons, you are required to provide an alternate activity to your students. Please show discretion for what qualifies as an alternate activity. This University has found the following previously given excuses for canceling class to be unacceptable alternatives to lecture: -"Praying my hangover goes away by Thursday," -"Applying the lessons of Machiavelli by punching a hobo and stealing his change," -"Going to Hell."

7. You are welcome to ask for a raise, but we prefer you do not ask us.

8. You must conduct class in the classroom you were assigned. Class may not be held outside, in a bar, or in your student's pants (no matter how much he/she "is still totally begging for it.")

Thank you for adhering to our policies. Please enjoy a fulfilling semester!

POW! [Post of the Week] - Name Checks, Yearning, Confessions, & Some Booze

I just want to know if Summa Cum Gummi Bear, the Ice Cream Fool, and Professor Chaps-n-Cheeks are slurping down Pina Coladas with Amelia Earhart, Tupac, and Jim Morrison right now. Because lately, I doubt any of these people exist. And if the high school wonder does exist, she sure as hell ain’t here at Idiot-Sans-Savant State.

I admit, long ago, in a pay scale far far away, I once glimpsed the elusive high school freak. At the time, we called them “Duel Enrollments.” Too smart for the Kumbaya crowd in their corduroy jumpers or the tattered coats on sticks who clog the teachers lounge back at Riverdale High, they would appear in my writing class and effortlessly mop the floor with the freshmen. In a land where remembering to wear one’s drool cup was considered class participation, it was frightening how bright they were.

But, alas, they never stayed. They were off to slay giants at colleges that had neither “U” nor “State” affixed to the brand name, and I was left standing by the window with a tear in my eye and dreams of following them to that magical place where students read because they knew how, where raised hands were followed by insightful questions that didn’t involve restroom privileges, and a roomful of scholars made me want to run to the library every day after class to keep up with them, and not to McGreevy’s tavern to escape them.

Don't Hold Back

I've been teaching for almost 6 years and I can't say I've actually ever asked one of my 18 year old students, "What did you just do for the last 4 years?!" But I can surmise it from their work and behavior.

Why, oh why, do they think using "u" instead of "you" in a formal writting assignment is appropriate? Aren't they taught the difference between they're, their and there anymore? Are paragraphs passe now? Why don't they take notes on what I say during lecture? Why do they think test questions from the book, but which I didn't cover in lecture, are "trick"questions? Why do they act as if me not giving them a study guide for an exam is a crime? Why do they have the NERVE to ask me for a pencil and a Scantron form on exam day? Why do they ask me if I'm going to"curve" their grades, and why do they think said "curve" is simply adding 10 points to everybody's score? Why do they think it is appropriate to take a phone call in the middle of my lecture? And why are they shocked when I throw their ass out for doing it?

Administrators in some school districts insist that students be allowed to not only carry their cell phones into the classroom, but have them on in case mommy calls. And if mommy does call, students need to be able to take those calls. Students who are disruptive, etc. can be sent to the vice principal's office, but what's the point? They are sent right back with no consequences and a smug look on their faces.

The little one's every whim must be indulged, or mommy or daddy will be on everyone's backs.

In short, they are ill prepared, immature, pampered brats, who have been told by their feuding or guilt-ridden, over-committed parents, that they are special and deserving of special treatment, all their lives. The kids complain, the parents react, the administrators attack the teachers. The teachers get no support - they are fighting an uphill battle.

Somebody Got Out of High School. Barbie Lived. The Blue Gummy Bears Won.

It's true what they say about high school. We really did just fill in worksheets and listen to the same material get rehashed over and over, seven hours a day, five days a week, eight-and-a-half months a year for four straight years.

We were not expected to read the textbooks or even pay attention in lecture. You get everything drilled into you through simple repetition, and if you can parrot the teacher on the homeworks, quizzes, and tests, you're golden. In fact, having an original thought in high school is seemingly forbidden. Despite all this, some people thrive there.

I graduated with a 3.9 cumulative GPA. I studied occasionally, but I also read books on serial murderers and college science textbooks. I wrote my notes and the odd worksheet or two backward or upside down just to show I could do it. I argued with my teachers about religion, politics, ethics, and human rights when things got too repetitive. I participated in all the requisite getting-into-a-good-college extracurricular activities, but I also started parody religions, plotted world domination, wondered how many boxes of gelatin it would take to fill the school, staged zombie gummy bear re-enactments of major Civil War battles, and performed crude voodoo ceremonies on a Barbie doll at the lunch table.

We are told from the time we start sixth grade that everyone has to go to college to get a decent career, but we never hear how different it really is from all the spoonfed drivel of K-12. I'm a junior now, majoring in a science. Was the change from high schooler to undergrad drastic and occasionally quite difficult? You bet it was, and not everyone makes it. Many get weeded out in the first two years of general education, and the ones who didn't are mostly hanging on because Mommy and Daddy are subsidizing Junior's partying.

Graduating high school and coming to a university, though, was great for me. Much of the repetition is gone, I get all the textbooks I can handle, and I've really started to love research. I no longer need to amuse myself because the fresh, shiny, new ideas keep me busy and engaged. I'm planning to go on for my PhD.

Professors, we're out there, we love you and your ideas, and you represent some of the best things that have ever happened to us. We just don't know how to say it to your faces.

Self Esteem High - Grammar Skills Low

We've received a number of great replies to our earlier high school CFP. Here's one:

I'm not really sure what high school students are being taught. I can say with some confidence that they're not being taught grammar or writing, or how to use grammar when writing. They are also mystified when I ask them to "have an opinion and then support it" in writing - I get repeated questions about, "What do you mean, what I think about the issue? Like, um, what do you want to know?" Or even more discouraging, "Like, um, what do you want me to say?" Sadly for me I only know one way to say, "Write a paper about your opinion on a particular issue." I have contemplated writing papers of my own as samples so they understand what I'm getting at, but I have a feeling those would just end up at the bottom of the trash can along with my syllabus.

So, what do they learn in their English classes? Haven't a clue. However, I can tell you what they're learning about themselves. They seem to be getting the message - over and over and over - that they are wonderful. They are brilliant. They are all gifted, talented, special, unique. And when I don't grade their papers like I completely agree with their overblown sense of self, I get this e-mail:

hi professor this is joe blow i have a question in regardsto my movie review papaer grades and why they are all a 25 out of 40 fora grade i beleive i covered the reviews of the material fully indepthand also my punctuation an spelling were average if not above. pleaseeamil me back with the reason why. thanks your very much joe blowoh ps werent we aloud to revise them or at least one of them for ahigher grade if so. i was wondering if i could do that also before theend of the semester thank you.

Note to all K-12 educators: Stop handing out the freakin' ribbons. Enough already with the gold stars and stickers. It's not working. Trust me, these kids have enough self-esteem. When they write a paper about the country being in the "mist" of a baby boom, and they don't know when to use "doctor" or "Dr." and consistently use "and" and "an" interchangably yet they still think they are "average if not above" writers, the country has officially gone to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

What It Is. What It Is Not.

First, thanks for reading. Our hit counter has absolutely been blowing up. We've boosted hits and page views each and every week since the summer break. We don't know where all these readers are coming from, but we're grateful.

We get requests from time to time wondering what it is we like to read, what it is we post. It seems pretty clear to us, but let us take a little lazy Saturday energy to make two lists:

What We Want You to Send Us:

• posts about how tough it is to be a college professor, especially when the thing that makes it tough is some bad attitude 19 year old wearing pajama bottoms and staring down at his C- essay.
• posts about how you've had a groovy day, about how your students have suddenly - nearly magically - come around, and are now people you don't mind spending an hour or two with.
• posts about academic issues especially concerning the classroom.
• posts that tell us how much you love us.
• posts that confess a dark secret you have about being a prof - the secret things you like about it, the secret things you do that don't show up in your tenure and promotion file.

What We Don't Want You to Send Us:

• stuff that's already been posted or published somewhere else before.
• investment opportunities.
• any post that starts out with, "You guys are jackasses."
• posts about how much you hate your Dean.
• posts that tell us that our site should be called "ratemystudents.com."
• posts about your research, scholarship, your new grant for something, etc.
• a notice that you got tenure.

Of course, this list won't stop anyone. And really, we are able to sort through it all, even all the spam about new pharmaceutical companies and products in which we should be putting all of our TIAA-CREF money.

As always, we welcome your comments.

Is Anyone Actually "Present" in High School?

If my children's experience is at all representative, high school can be a place for genuine learning and hard work, albeit mixed with plenty drudgery. My children have had to read significant works of literature, learn to spell and define fifty or more "vocabulary words" at a time (difficult ones too, and not by "matching" words with definitions), undertake some genuine research, and master mathematics beyond any that I was able to master in high school.

All these experiences have happened in a relatively undistinguished small-town public high school. For many of the students I teach though, high school seems to be something like the missing years of Jesus' life. Or the lost weekend that Odysseus spent with Calypso. What were they doing all that time? "Not much." I'm no longer sure whether to really believe that.

I think that part of what accounts for the attitudes of many (note: not all) of my students is a feeling that their education somehow takes place without their needing to be truly present. They "go to class," as everyone exhorts them to do, and they sit, with their minds elsewhere (if anywhere).

So being asked to account for what was going on in high school, as if they themselves were really there and had an investment in what was happening, is a tall order.

Forget the Bright Side. Enough of the Nonsense. A Shout Out - Literally.

While that person is just starting out, she has already happened upon a kernel of wisdom that we should all keep in mind: to a great extent, you get out of something what you put into it. On an empirical level, we all deal with the same garbage. But if you relish the challenge, look for the positive, and do your best for the sake of good old fashioned work ethic, you will discover that the job ain't half bad. In fact, it has rewards you couldn't find anywhere else.

But hold on. Let's get back to the empirical side for a moment, shall we? I noticed that, despite her overall point, the poster spent the vast majority of her column inches pointing out all of the absurd and disrespectful things that their students have done SINCE SHE STARTED TEACHING AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEMSTER!

Which is fine - I'm not calling her a hypocrite by far - the egregiousness makes for better copy. But what about that egregiousness?

Now, I know there was no golden age of discipline and professionalism, and if there were I would be far too young to have lived through it, but what on earth is up? Where does that contempt come from? I don't mean the sexual harassment that junior female faculty often suffer, or the serious cases of plagiarism. I mean the garden-variety, baseline-level contempt and malice thrown up against everything we do - over the price of the textbook, the toughness of the exams, the scheduling of office hours, the way we dress, the list of paper topics, the use of an overhead projector instead of power point.

Do we really just have to put up with this nonsense, and take it upon ourselves to look on the bright side? To whom does it fall to turn this culture around?

On Using Good Judgment - A Student Comments on the Ice Cream Man, Leather Man Arc

We college students are at a awkward juncture in our lives: that place that falls somewhere between being a teenager and being an adult. Most people do not refer to us as adults, and we rarely get called "a teenager." We at least have the convenience of a widely recognized and accepted identity that many others our age don't have: college students.

In all aspects, we change dramatically within a period of a year after leaving our parents' home. Some of us will continue to become more responsible and independent, and others will slow at that process. But one thing is for sure. Though we students may be all the same age, some of us will be adults and others will continue to act like kids. For those of us who are coming closer to that "adult" stage of our lives, we would benefit from having relationships with those that are already well established in that period of their lives. We need to have people model for us how to act in relationships that have dual (or more) intersections. No one in this world would get buy in life with any friends (and certainly not with an intimate partner) if we couldn't have relationships with our realtors, lawyers, or secretaries.

I go to a university where the city is very much made up of people who are in some manner associated with the school. The thought that the lives of the faculty and students could not intersect outside of the classroom is absurd, and the assertion that faculty should maintain strictly professional boundaries is unnecessary. I think it's pretty easy to recognize the difference between those students who can handle hanging out with a professor, and those that would giggle and pass notes to friends after seeing a prof at a bar (gay or otherwise).

We may be a little taken off-guard when the social lives of our professors begin to become intertwined with ours, but that is simply a consequence of that awkward transition we're in, and of our realization that we are no longer teenagers and that we are becoming adults. Good judgment is always necessary for both professors and students in those situations in which we're both involved. Professors have to keep in mind that some of us still talk to our parents three times a day and call them if we're going to be back to our dorm late. Students have to keep in mind that there are some professors who would become involved with us because they think we'd be an easy lay.

But there are also plenty of students and professors who do act like adults, who realize there are certain factors and stressors that both student and professor have to consider when our social lives become intertwined, and recognize and respect each other for who we are and which boundaries we choose to keep in place. Some of us students are indeed adults, and can handle and value being in a relationship, professional or otherwise, with a professor. Whether or not you professors can handle being in a relationship with us without becoming paranoid, worrying that your peers are going spread rumors about your sleeping with your student (or gossiping about a colleague you saw with a student at a restaurant), or grading us according to our selection of Saturday night activities is up to you.

And it is time to recognize that students do more than write papers, and that professors do more than design power point presentations. It is time for us to all act like adults. Every one of us needs to make a decision about which boundaries we choose to keep in place, act accordingly, and respect each other for doing so.

Call for Posts: What Are They DOING at the High School Anyway?

We receive a lot of emails that comment on students and their poor preparation for the challenge of college academics.

We'd love to entertain some posts that capture what you've learned about your own students and their glorious and indolent high school days. As one correspondent puts it: "The only thing my students seem to have done in high school is fill in worksheets 7 hours a day. When I want them to think, it's the first time they've been asked."

As always, email us at the RYS compound, where the wine flows like water, where there are always Klondike bars in the freezer.

We Have to Admit That We Love The Sarcasm. We Hate Irony Because It Often Works Against Us. But Sarcasm Always Gets The Other Guy.

I have to admit, I don’t recognize you. Oh, yes, you are the one who showed up on the first day of class but I don’t think I have seen you in the last five weeks. I understand, you’ve been sick but haven’t had the chance to see a doctor, so no doctor’s note. No problem.

You are upset…of course…why do you have to take this class about ‘women’s stuff’? Really, what is the point? And you weren’t allowed to transfer in a class from another campus that should have fulfilled this requirement? Oh, so you failed that course. No, I am sorry, the university has a strict policy that you have to actually pass a required course for it to count….completely unreasonable, I know.

So you weren’t able to do the reading for class today...you didn’t know what was assigned…of course, I understand. You do have a copy of the syllabus distributed on the first day of class? Or as least know how to access it online? Amazing, I know, a listing of all assigned readings by date for the entire semester. If you had only known!

And you need to reschedule the final exam. How wonderful that your parents are taking you on vacation to Switzerland and you leave on the day of the final…beautiful country…of course I am aware of the whole non-refundable ticket problem. Oh, but now you are thinking that with the midterm exam coming up tomorrow, you may want to drop this class. Of course I won’t take it personally…but you say you have issues with my syllabus? Wasting your time on those ‘women’s issues’?

I know, terribly unfair. And you have a problem with the time the course is offered? I understand, really I do.

On Getting It Over With

In reading the posts on your site from frustrated teachers I see that the ones that have been doing it for years are feeling vexed that students' enthusiasm is declining. While one possible explanation is that these teachers simply aren't trying as hard as they used to, I do not think this is the only explanation. Though I've only been teaching for about three years, I see the students are way more apathetic then when I was an undergraduate and I think part of it is because of entitlement.

With the current economy and the trends in our country, students now feel more entitled than ever to a college degree. It's assumed they'll go and get one. Their parents tell them it. Hell, society tells them it. It's seen as the last hurdle to adulthood. Rather than a wonderful opportunity they should soak up, they believe it's something to "get over with" so they can finally be an adult. This isn't helped by the fact that there is a flood of Masters degree programs coming out that, let's face it, are nothing more than glorified associates degrees for people that didn't major in what they should have in college.

This is adding to students' frustrations since many of the freshmen I teach are already preparing for graduate school. So don't accept that fear that it's just you losing your passion for teaching, something really scary is happening to the perception of college out there.

Someone To Keep Us Going

I'm delighted by your site, not so much for the chance to rate my students, but rather for the chance to read stories from other instructors who actually *care* about teaching. I'm pursuing a Ph.D. because I wanted to teach. This is my first semester as 'instructor of record.' And so far, I love it. Despite everything, I love it.

And what is that 'everything'? At the moment it's the failure of the students to do something as basic as reading the syllabus. The exams were not cummulative; the required readings really are required; and all the test dates are listed in bold font. What more could I do?

I asked students for the questions to put together our review session. Half of them concerned material from the first test, and chapters of the book they were not required to read. I did suggest looking at chapter eight, but I'm not going to waste class time reviewing it, and no - it's not going to be on the damned test. (The first time I said those words, a little of me died.)

Speaking of readings - I did the quasi-ethical thing of posting PDFs on the class website. No, I am not going to print them out and bring them to class for you. I've had four students interrupt me to ask if I had an extra copy of the article, and then act put out when I didn't. (And by interrupt, I mean they yelled out without raising their hands while I was answering another student's question.) The readings are required, and they were free.

Test dates are another thing. I had a student show up the day of the first test and then ask me to let her take it in a few days. She'd been sick, you see, and hadn't been able to prepare. I'd've bought it, too - she looked ill - but then she made the mistake of saying, 'You didn't say there was a review! I didn't know we had a test!' Um - I suppose the bold print on the syllabus, the class-wide e-mail and the two announcements in class weren't obvious enough. Next time I'll try skywriting.

Speaking of that - I had one student boldly ask if we could push back the deadline on a paper that was due the same day as a test. Again, I almost agreed. Then someone raised his/her hand and said, "What test?" I hope peer pressure deals with that one; the original deadline stands.

I'm learning a lot. I expected to be lied to and to have to deal with cheaters, but it was still hurtful when it happened. I expected disinterested students, but I didn't anticipate only twenty of them showing up (total students: 45.) I did not expect to have students writing drafts of their papers in class, turning them in without even taking the notebook fringe off the side. I did not expect to have students lie about their religion in order to get out of class. Next year I know what to put on my syllabus, and it's not how this class fits into the core curriculum. I'll be creating carefully detailed instructions for how to prepare assignments and I'll make a second handout with all the dates of assignments. I don't anticipate them actually reading it, but at least I won't wonder if I forgot to tell them something.

But I still love teaching. I love my Honors students, I love the laptop guy in the back of the classroom who still manages to ace everything even when I'm planning on busting his ass. I even love the students who whisper throughout the whole damn lecture and the ones who read books under their desks.

What can I say? I hope I can hold onto this love for the rest of my career.

More Than One Reader Is Left Dumbfounded - The Mail Has Exploded, and We've Chosen This Note To Close This Chapter

Maybe I'm already an old maid at 32, but these past couple of posts have just left me dumbfounded.

How do ice cream man and leather harness man have time for their extra-curricular "duties"?

I find myself most nights taking home grading - which then I labor over at the kitchen table until past midnight. Or I've got reading to do for class the next day. Or I'm working up material for one of my committees.

And beyond the simple time constraints of doing a full time college teaching job well, what sort of role do these people think they're playing in the lives of their students?

Getting drunk and highjacking a nubile coed for an ice cream run, or getting "royally ripped" and getting my freak on with a hunky stranger in front of a student in a leather bar seems desperate and sad.

Catching Up With a Reply To A Cranky Correspondent

Dear Prof. Cranky,

I can empathize with the frustrations you face in your work. I'm a student at a large state school, and I think some of your answers could use some perspective from my side of the desk.

In your response to "My TA can't speak English," you point out that the TA has to have had his/her English skills assessed in order to teach. Consider the possibility that the TA's language skills are better in a one-time assessment than in day-to-day use.

As for your complaint about the students coming to you when you're not the one who can do anything about it, you shouldn't expect students to have telepathically-acquired knowledge of the chain of command at your institution. Remember, the kids haven't been there as long as you have. Just tell them where to direct their complaints and leave it at that.

Also, when students ask you if they can get into your class despite its being full, the reason we do that (at least at my institution) is because many times there are a few extra desks in the classroom, or students drop out just before the deadline, etc., and therefore many professors are willing to allow a few students over "official" capacity, especially for a required class and for students close to graduation. "Full" doesn't always mean full. If your class can't handle any extra students, just tell them so politely. There's no need to bite their heads off. (Save that for the ones who DID get in your class!) If they whine after that, feel free to kick their entitled little asses.

Where Do These Folks Teach, And Why Can't We Teach There?

Whether the ice cream post was a hoax or not, I suspect the author's intention may have been to convey the sense of the horror that emerges when our lives and our students intersect. The moral, if there is one, seems to be that one can recover from such intersections.

Now I'm pretty sure that attending a party with your undergrads is generally a bad idea and the repercussions of said dalliance might prove messy. I suspect, however, that the mess might be more our concern than theirs.

So, here's a story about a spectacular collision between work and pleasure. On a Saturday night after lots of teaching and stupid administrative work, I went out with friends to a fabulously dark and seedy gay after hours club. Loud music, sketched out party kids, and fetishes left, right, and center. Without divulging *too* many of my social predilections, I showed up in leather chaps, a leather harness, and not much else. I hardly stood out; sleaze is de rigeur at said club.

After getting royally ripped in a variety of ways, I found myself crushed up against a wall in the clutches of a very handsome, slightly older man. Heaven. In and amongst the groping, the loud music, and the lip smacking, I managed to come up for air. I wanted to know the name of my hunky catch. Between the small talk I happened to look over his shoulder, and who should I see but Terrance, a student of mine who I last saw in class on Friday afternoon. He was, obviously, slack jawed. In shock I think. I did all that I could in such a context: I winked and went back to the crushes of my handsome lucky find.

The next time I came up for air, Terrance was there with two of his friends. Over the music and noise of the club, I could see one of his friends mouth to him, "That's your prof?" to which I waved and smiled. And then I dragged my hunky find into the mess that was the dance floor.

The following week Terrance showed up in class. After agonizing for the week, I decided to be casual and up front. During the break, I asked if he enjoyed himself on the weekend. He said, "Yeah, it was fun." we talked about the music, the crowd, and the scene. Neither of us batted an eye. I have no idea what he and his friends talked about. But there was nary a ripple in my life as a result of that collision. Maybe they can be adults.

On The Ice Cream Man

First of all, almost nobody believed it. Here's a sampling of last night's mail:

• What is wrong with you guys? That's a put on. No professor with any brain in his head would get drunk and drive around with a student looking for ice cream. I know you want to be edgy and all that, but this has to be a con. If you're just some unrequited creative writing major who wants to get jollies, do it on another blog.
• This is bullshit. The writing of the ice cream post is clearly that of a sophomoric moron. Take it down and do a better job of vetting your posts.
• This can't be real.
• Today's post is clearly a sorry attempt by some misguided undergraduate to show profs in a horrible and potentially dangerous light. Do better about checking the identity of your authors.

A few folks held out the possibility that ice cream man was really a prof somewhere, and that mail went something like this:

• You're a loser. You -- and you alone -- think this is funny. You probably thought a lot of the stuff you did in high school was funny too. But you weren't -- that's why you didn't get laid back then, that's why you're not getting laid now -- and now every last person at your school knows you will never get laid OR respect. Never. Marisol couldn't wait to get rid of you and every minute she was planning her escape without suffering the nerd's revenge in the classroom (read: her grade). I'm all for getting drunk and doing stupid shit, but with grownups. WHY were you at a party with 20 undergrads? I wish you a heart attack from high-fat ice cream. Yesterday.
• On a website normally devoted to the silliness and immaturity of students, we have been presented with the spectacle of a colleague who is not only an imbecile, but an imbecile without the good sense of discretion.
• If you like being employed, don't go to undergraduate parties where students are drinking. This will not please administrators, colleagues, journalists, legislators, or human beings with reason in general.
• My advice to faculty going to a student party -- DON'T!
• You're one sad fucker, my brother. I understand the drinking, the ice cream, even the driving around. But do it with someone your own size, you lecherous cretin.

While we can't tell you for sure that the ice cream story is real, we can assure you that the author is indeed a prof. We checked his identity using two of the normal avenues we follow on things like this. He is indeed working happily in our profession, perhaps looking forward to his next party!

* NO TITLE *

We have spent hours here at the RYS compound coming up with funny titles for the post below. We've run through some of the most vile and inhuman things you can imagine, but nothing does the piece justice. We've decided to just let the following note to us from a college professor speak for itself.

Enjoy!

I was at a party with about 20 undergrads. I must confess I had more than one drink that evening. For some reason I crave ice cream when under the influence of alcohol. I immediately began my search for someone at the party who also wanted ice cream at one in the morning AND was sober enough to drive to Dairy Queen.

The only person who satisfied both of these conditions was Marisol, a student of mine. Unfortunately, no one else at the party was interested in joining us. I was a little hesitant to go with her without a "chaperone," because in a small town it's possible that we would be seen together and the rumors would begin to fly. But I figured, "What the hell!"

When we arrived at Dairy Queen and exited Marisol's car, Dairy Queen had just locked their doors for the evening. In my frustration I exclaimed, "I want ice cream!" Right as I was saying this a bit too loudly, a crowd of students turned the corner - one of whom was enrolled in another of my classes. The student immediately started whispering to her friends, I assume something along the lines of, "Hey, look. That's my professor!" They all started to giggle. As if that wasn't strange enough, here's what happened next.

I made the suggestion to Marisol that instead of giving up, we could go to the 24-hour grocery store and pick up a pint or two of Ben & Jerry's. Sure enough, after taking two steps into the grocery store we immediately ran into two other female students from Marisol's class. Looks of terror immediately appeared on their faces. I imagine they were thinking, "Oh my god, our professor and a girl from class are going to the grocery store together at 1 AM on a Saturday night... something is very, very wrong with this picture."

What does a professor do in this situation? Hiding behind the stack of soup cans was no longer an option. So my response to their horrified faces was to smile and say, "Hey, you're in our class too! How ya doin' tonight?" They were too shocked to respond. Luckily, no scandalous rumors ever started.

My advice to faculty going to a student party - bring ice cream!

See, This is What it Comes To, What We're Reduced To. Teaching is Slowly Killing Us All. (And a Quickie Followup!)

You, in the back! Yes, you! How could you not know that you're bugging the holy hell out of me?

I come to work prepared every day. I come to class excited to talk about my area and the topic at hand even though I've been lecturing on it for what feels like one hundred years. I work on making the information exciting and relevant and finding ways to integrate your opinions, examples, and other curveballs you throw my direction. I provide examples an illustrations that make the material come alive. I come to work smiling despite having just read a scathing rejection letter, or with my emotions in check after a fight with my significant other. That is my job and it is not easy. I'm not an actor or a stand-up comedian. I'm a socially akward academic. It is fighting everything that I am to stand up in front of an audience and talk, yet you - yes, you! - can't give me the same respect you'd offer an inanimate screen in a darkened movie theater.

You, back there with your hand always playing with the wall beside you. Do you have a question? If not, could you keep your hands down?

And you two, back there in the corner, must you talk throughout the entire class? Did the poor showing on the last test teach you nothing? And when I call you on your behavior, do you really think that it's okay to give me the death stare during the rest of class? You made your bed...

And you, yeah you, straight ahead. I know that you know the material, but you look really smug with that expression on your face.

And finally, you in the front. Is it not enough that I have to keep in check all the lost souls behind you. The front row is supposed to be the one place that I don't have to monitor, but alas, that's not true with you around. Did you really think it was a good idea to sit there, in the front row, playing with that annoying piece of siding that's falling off the wall - creak, slap! creak, slap! creak, slap! Really, kid.

I am not paid to entertain you, or to entertain any notions you have about your superiority. Please let me do what I'm paid to do, in peace.

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Six hours after this post appeared, we got a followup note from its author. We thought it was a great tonic:

Wow. Was that me? I had no idea that teaching had me so bitter. More importantly, though, reading back to that day - when I had just gotten a scathing rejection letter on my way to class and my kids really were out of hand - made me realize just how much of a roller-coaster this professor thing is.

If you asked me today what I thought of the same class I would make a joke or two about the freshman, or the smug sucker who does sit square in the middle of class, but I would smile and say that they're good kids who are struggling through their first semester away from home. It's not that I didn't mean every word. It's just that I realize that if someone read just that and thought that I'm that bitter, angry, frustrated professor - all the time - they wouldn't get an accurate view of me or others in my profession.

I love my kids, too. I want the best for them. I realize that their actions are not necessarily who they are, but have other influences as well. I don't let their transgressions define them. I'm happy when they stop by for office hours or when they do well. Most days I really, really like what I do, and I like the students.

So maybe the take-away message is not that the profession is killing us, but that it's driving us to dissociative identity disorder.

The Pros and Cons of Older Students

This semester I am teaching at a new college. I have taught as an adjunct for several years, but was not scheduled for any classes this fall at my "regular" school. I am but a poor doctoral candidate and I could not afford to take the semester off from working, so I had to find a new school. I did. My new school has a special program for "adult" students returning to college after long absences. The course I am teaching is part of this program.

At first, I was excited at the prospect of teaching these "adult" students. I thought it would be a refeshing change from the Freshmen in introductory courses that I am usually saddled with. I envisioned a room full of interested faces that had actually done the reading and would contribute to the discussion with varied experiences gained from "real life." That has not turned out to be the case.

Some things are great: People stay awake, I never have to tell people to be quiet or pay attention, no one answers their phone, and I have not seen one single incident of note passing.

Some things are the same: People still wander in late and disappear after the break. Some people are still chronically absent, but the excuses are different (More doctor's appointments and sick kids. No dying grandmothers or hospitalized aunts). And, I have seen no evidence that people are doing the reading before class.

Some things are worse: The student-as-consumer attitude is much more pronounced. And, having had some experience being real consumers, they will complain to what they perceive of as "higher-ups" when they feel they are not getting their money's worth. After my very first class, I was informed by the head of the adult program (not the department Chair) that she had received two phone calls regarding my performance and apparent "lack of respect" for the students. Huh? How can one demonstrate lack of respect for students in a single class that consisted mostly of going over the syllabus and course requirements? This anonymous, behind my back sniping by "adult" students really pissed me off. At least the younger students wait until the end of semester and the student eveluations to tell you that you suck. I felt that it was an attempt to undermine me and influence my teaching to be more to their liking.

So, don't believe the hype. Older students are not the holy grail. They come with their own baggage and issues.

A Link Landslide

We never understand why we get requests for this. Is it so hard to scroll down the page? But we get emails every week asking for a handy-dandy set of recent and/or popular links. So we're doing it. I mean it's not like inventing an engine that runs on lawn clippings. It's, like, about 100 seconds worth of work. (With time in there for a Pop-Tart or two.)

Really, it's just a list. Some of these are recent. One is old. We like them all. But, of course, we like the rest, too. What are we doing?

Recent And Fun Links You Can Click For More Satisfaction

Caffeine
Mascot
The Good
Pistol
Part-Time
Quitter
The List

Where the Freshmen Take Their Tests

I have been at a regional commuter campus of a Big Ten school for 28 years; most of that time I spent teaching and advising freshmen. As I approached my dotage, I was fortunate enough to get out of the classroom and become the testing maven. How bad could it be spending short periods of time with freshmen? Let me count the ways.

Students fill out a short form with demographic information before testing. This year, one student could not spell her last name correctly, another student didn’t know if his first name was spelled with one T or two, and a third one had to call his father for his address because “We moved two months ago and I haven’t learned it yet.”

I had two mothers and one father following their little darlings into the testing room because this is all new to the little ones and they didn’t want them to be upset.

The tests are timed so I tell everyone they start promptly and to be on time. One student came in 15 minutes late and I told her she could take it later that day or reschedule. She decided to reschedule for the next week. The next week she came in 25 minutes late. I asked what’s the problem she was 15 minutes late last Tuesday and now this Tuesday she is 25 minutes late. Her face lit up and she said “ Oh, Tuesdays are when I take the garbage out.”

It's Sunday. We Hardly Ever Post on a Sunday. But One of Us is In, Working. Nobody Understands This. People Think Profs Just Go Sailing All Weekend.

We're having a very heated discussion in class, and at one point, one of the students is being very rude in responding to some of his classmates. I do my best to bring back the conversation to a more comfortable space, and after the class, the student comes to me to ask me why I didn't let him finish what he had to say.

So I explain to him why I had to stop him, and why the way he interacted with his classmate was unacceptable.

His response to my comments:

"Well, I think that as a woman, you should be able to understand that when someone gets emotional, it's difficult to be rational at the same time."

Can I fail him?

We Have a New RYS Correspondent. Around Here We Call Him Prof. Cranky, The Number Man. It's With Love, Though. We're All About The Love.

A statistics prof at a large state school sends along this helpful FAQ.

Q: My TA can't speak English.
A: Before graduate students become TAs, they are required to pass a spoken English test. If they fail this test, they don't become TAs. So apparently somebody thinks your TA can speak English. I did not hire your TA, choose them from a pool of candidates, nor do I have the power to fire them. So you're wasting your time by bitching to me.

Q: Is there any way I can get a C in your course?
A: Sure, just get 70% of the possible points. I thought I made that clear on the first day of class.

Q: I need this class to graduate.
A: Guess what - every single person enrolled in this course needs it to graduate. Did you think your classmates were taking it as an elective? Needing this course to graduate does not make you a special case, so don't expect special consideration or treatment.

Q: I need this class to get into my major.
A: See previous answer.

Q: I work 40 hours a week.
A: See previous answer.

Q: My TA is an asshole.
A: I hope you don't think you're the first college student to have an asshole for a teacher. It happens to many students every semester at basically every university on the planet. Face it, there are a lot of assholes out there. Do you want to know what I did when I had an asshole for a TA? I studied hard, then I walked away laughing at the end of the semester because I got an A, despite my asshole teacher. I got a lot more satisfaction from that than from whining.

Q: Could you tell me my TA's name, office hours, phone number, etc.?
A: I do not know your TA's office hours or phone number off the top of my head. I am not a secretary. On the first day of recitation, your TA told you these things and if you didn't write them down that's your problem. Here's an idea - go to recitation, and ask yourself.

Q: Everything seems easy when you do it on the board in class, but when it comes to the exam, I don't do that well.
A: You know why it looks easy when I do it? Because I'm good at it. I've been doing these problems for years. If you want to become good at them, study your lecture notes and do the practice problems in the book.

Q: I never miss class, study like crazy, get extra help, I do everything you tell me to do, but I'm still failing. What am I doing wrong?
A: How the hell should I know? Maybe you're not paying attention in class, not studying correctly, or getting help from the wrong people. It's also possible that you're just not that bright.

Q: I'm done with this homework problem, but can you just tell me if I did it right?
A: You'll find out when you get it back after it is graded. What's important right now is whether or not you think it's right. If you think it's right, leave it. If not, change it.

Q: I do well on the homework and quizzes, but fail the exams. I guess I'm just a bad test taker. Will this affect my grade?
A: Well obviously it will. Why do you assume you're a bad test taker? Maybe you're just good at taking quizzes or copying your friend's homework, and your exam scores reflect that you aren't learning as much as you thought.

Q: I didn't have enough time to finish the exam.
A: Tough. If I wanted to, I could put 1000 problems on the exam, just to see how many you could do in 50 minutes. As the instructor, I have the right to write as many problems as I want.

Q: I had no idea homework was due today.
A: Baloney. I make announcements in class constantly about when your next homework is due, and it's on your syllabus.

Q: The real exam wasn't like the practice exam.
A: I don't remember promising you it would be. I hand out a practice exam because I think it might help you prepare for the real one. If you feel it didn't help you, then don't take a practice exam next time.

Q: Your class is full. Can I get in?
A: What do you think "full" means?

Q: Sorry I haven't been to class lately, but I'm not a morning person.
A: So why are you signing up for classes that meet in the morning?

Q: I think I'm about to fail this class. Is there anything I can do?
A: Yes. Take the class again.

Really. We're Not Kidding. It's a Great Day. We Feel Blessed. We're Giddy As Can Be.

The mail last night was astonishing, and when that happens, we like to give a shout-out to a tiny selection of our favorite missives. First of all, the mail was almost entirely about yesterday's post.

• Someone said: "No, man. Don't go after his mom! You've overstepped, although I can see why you might. What a tool that guy is."
• Someone else: "You don't expect me to believe that's a real note, do you?"
• A regular RYS correspondent said: "Respect I understand. But anyone so enamored of power and authority has a little dick. You can look it up."

The original poster of that fine piece took offense because we edited out a bit of his original note. We did it because it was a comment about a several month old posting that we thought people might not even remember very clearly. So, in fairness to our newest, bestest friend. Here's the comment we edited out from yesterday:

• Oh, and whoever is Professor Tiny From Texas, who posted Hall of Fame Post #13: should be laughed at because he can't get a hot girl for himself and is jealous because most of the world is wealthier than he is.

You can see that we've made a huge error. We should have let our new pal make his entire point - which seems to be: Prof Tiny - bad, hot girl - good, lots of money - good. Thankfully, blogging allows us to go back in time, fix the mistakes. And when the guy contacted us this morning, he continued his delicious little screed, and the rest of it is below:

• Why don't you post the whole email? Scared about something? You people are so pathetic. Enjoy your $40,000 a year job, which after taxes is hardly enough to even buy a decent car.

You have to almost pray that he doesn't lose our address - or get hit by a falling bit of space debris - because we look forward to many other visits from him. (And of course, from his mom.)

We're Not Kidding. This is a Real Piece of Mail. We Laughed So Hard That Chivas Regal Came Out of Our Noses Right Onto The Naked Belly of His Mom.

What I love most is that professors are often poor or at best middle class. So their power or any authority or respect they have ends once they leave the classroom. I take joy in knowing that one day I will be able to buy the homes of professors I don’t like and turn them into parking lots.

Arthur Knew He Was Alone, As Alone as the Last Marshmallow in a Cup of Hot Chocolate That Was Made Before the Marhsmallows Ran Out

There is one answer that applies to nearly all problems with freshmen students.

They are egocentric. They have been told for 18 years that the sun rises with them, that the moon shines for them, that their tiniest burp is worthy of being saved on videotape, that getting 6 out of 10 on a quiz is still an A-, and that there will be a little party for them each day they are able to negotiate the world without falling down or accidentally eating their plate instead of the food on it.

Wikipedia knows: "egocentrism is the characteristic of regarding oneself and one's own opinions or interests as most important."

I know this all to be true, but keep teaching freshmen. I've seen enough of them figure it out, get on board the adult train, and I'm convinced that helping them is one of the few decent things I know how to do.

Where Someone is [Surprise!] Also Cheesed Off About Those Freshmen

Ah yes [gasp], the freshmen. It’s only week four of the new quarter and—like your prompt stated—I’ve been wanting to tear my eyes out (and occasionally my students’ eyes, or some combination of both) since week one. No, my desire to yank out eyeballs isn’t due to some past “King Lear” trauma, nor is it representative of anxiety over my lack of preparedness. Rather, the thought of reading just one more English 101 essay has driven me slightly up the wall [grimace].

I can’t take it anymore! Maybe this is just another one of my quirky eccentricities, but if I assign work, I expect it to be done as per instructions. For instance, I asked the students to read a particular article (on declining summer camp attendance) and then summarize the argument. One student turned in a page long, fictional account of camp life—automatic “F.” She was pretty cheesed off at me [gulp]. Granted, she DID inform me on the first day of class that because she’s a “good” writer she doesn’t have to follow the rules. Hmmm… maybe I need to lower my expectations. Wait, it gets better.

This is an e-mail I received from another student regarding the same assignment:
“We want to know if we have to do the exercises in the book it was on the slyabus but in class u didnt metion it and it was alot of extra work. and we also want to know what exercises we have to do. Reading the slyubus we think we have to do exercise 1 on pg 13 and exercise 2 on pg 38 if you could please email me asap that would be great because we dont want to do all that work if it isnt required for next class. Thanks.”

And my reply:
“If work is on the syllabus, it is required. I will only discuss assignments listed on the syllabus if I feel they need a greater degree of explanation. You are correct about the assignment itself: complete exercise 1 on p. 13, and exercise 2 on p. 38. Also: I realize that for many people, e-mail represents a form of casual communication. However (as clearly stated on the syllabus), communications directed towards professors--including myself--need to be grammatical, include a proper salutation, and show correct capitalization and spelling. To not do so is inappropriate and disrespectful.”

I must say, my “evil professor” alter-ego cackled with glee as I hit the send button on that one [sob]. Oh well, back to grading reading journals [sigh].

Uh, This is Probably Not What We Had in Mind When We Welcomed Some New Emails!

This is all bullshit. You ask for people to send in their stories, but you never use them. I sent you one last week that was better than any shit you have on this half-assed blog, and you didn't put it up. What's up with that? I think you're a lonely old whore who just hates students and writes these things yourself in between drinking too much wine or whatever.

If you'd tell us what your name is we could go to Ratemyprofessor.com and tear you a new asshole.

I'm never reading this shit again.

RYS CFP - That's, uh, We'd Like Your Posts on Things, er, Emails, Actually

September was a great month, with our hits going well above our daily averages from the Spring 2006 semester. Thanks so much for that. But the mail has dropped off some. One of us thinks it might be because in the really heavy times, we can only publish a very small percentage of the mail that comes in. "People get tired of trying," one of us said. (We're a regular Algonquin Roundtable here in RYS land.)

So, we thought we'd put a new call out. We have a small backlog of things that are going to go up this week, but we're always looking for things that fit especially well. We must confess more than 80% of the mail we get is just not designed for the blog. We get a lot of "Yeah, that happened to me, too," mail, but those things need to go beyond that to, well, what happened!

We get more and more mail about profs who hate their Dean, or who hate their husband. We can empathize with you, our brothers and sisters, but we're not in that business - not yet anyway.

We love to hear about the classroom struggle, the students, the profs, the endless and nutty dance we all do to get through a MWF 9 am adventure. Give us more of that.

Give us:

• a story about a student who vexed you, and on whom you took delicious revenge.
• a tale of a sassy student who misidentified your kindness for lust, and the comic results of a library visit.
• the tale of a panic attack you suffered outside room 114, knowing you weren't ready, and knowing that you'd rather pluck your own eyes out than have to see that mewling group of freshmen one more time.
• a deeply dark dream of giving it all up and living on mushrooms and soda water in the back of a gas station in Tucumcari.

We'll even entertain:

• a story of a student who got it turned around just before the iceberg.
• a little tidbit about a student who misunderstood your brilliance for weeks, only to suddenly - thankfully - step into your shining light in time to pass the class.
• a wicked story fraught with danger and intrigue, that turns out to be just another of the colossal misunderstandings about what we say in the classroom. "Oh, you wanted to work on my 'tense.' I thought you said 'pants.'"

As always, send your comments and posts to us anytime. We never sleep. One of us is on eastern time, 2 on west. One of us rises early to scare cats off the stoop, one of us is a middle of the day person, and the final one of us - me, as I break the 2nd wall of internet dynamics - stays up into the wee hours, drinking tea, waiting for the stock ticker from Tokyo to kick in.

But that's a tale for another time.