The Return of Topeka Tina, Our Fave Student Correspondent Ever. On Office Hours.

Do office hours really help raise student grades or are the students who use office hours simply more likely to study harder?

[+]

Actually, thinking about that makes my head hurt. But my purely ancedotal evidence suggests that it probably depends on the individual professor. I know this because I've had a lot of professors in my six years as an undergrad student.

My first ever office hours visit was to inquire about my grade. I didn't burst into tears, but my professor was kind enough to convince me that dropping out of school to become a long-haul truck driver was not in my best interest. (Two years later, it was an organic farming commune.)

I had another professor that I would go visit weekly (or so) in her damp, dimly lit bat cave. I liked her and she seemed to like me. We'd make small talk before going over (insert science-y type stuff here). The best part was that she would direct my attention to what topics would be heavily covered on the next test. I easily aced a class that many of my peers struggled in because I took the time to go visit her.

The last class that I felt compelled to go to office hours was also a science class. And I was struggling. I came prepared with specific questions and reference materials (my notes and the textbook, specifically). The professor, in all his wisdom, simply told me that I needed to "study harder." Then he rattled on about his sleep apnea and his wife's cancer before offering to drive me home. I politely declined, but I'm pretty sure that I could have slept with him for an A in the class.

I'm not certain what this all really means. Life's a crapshoot?

Listen, We're Just Back From Thanksgiving, And This is the First Email We Opened. Hank Teaches Us a Lesson.

Imagine that I, a nice white man, comes to your college for a job interview very soon. Imagine I do exceptionally well in the meetings, and everyone loves me.

Imagine that at dinner, the topic of spouses comes up. Everyone tells a little about their spouses and what they do.

Someone finally asks me about my wife and I say, yes, my wife is wonderful, a gifted and caring person. "She's an Ethiopian refugee," I might say.

Ooooh, the nods of assent and wonder from the typical gathering of academic heads. Yes, this nice young white man has an Ethiopian refugee wife. He's someone we want around us because we, too, are fantastic liberals, willing to see past color and ethnicity, no biases of any kind."

Imagine the crashing standstill that same dinner would come to if I said. "Yes, my wife's name is Kevin, and he's from Cleveland."

Did I just blow your mind? Do you see yourself now for the hypocrites you really are?

Sign me Hank the Homo, and make sure everyone learns the LESSON.

Half Credit For Thurston.

A devoted small group keeps sending stuff on Thurston's disgust about the VidShizzle.

While I tend to skip the VidShizzles myself (and regret when I don't) I cannot help but notice Thurston may be a Snowflake himself. It seems I have heard some of his arguments before....

"I am confident that I know more about the website then you, because, correct me if I'm wrong, there's an almost new set of moderators working on the page and I've been reading it since the beginning."

This sounds incredibly similar to the old, "I was learning this stuff before you were born" I've seen some other professors get from their non-traditional snowflakes. Yes....but you are still learning it, and the professor has learned it and graduated to the point where he is teaching it....

"I can assure you that there is better and more important stuff that the page should cover, and any reasonable person would say the same."

Some students may feel Biology class would be better spent discussing the Bible. But this is not a democracy, and the people who actually run the class choose the material to present. Maybe you toddle on down to registration and fill out a drop form....

"I send in excellent postings every week or so and only every once in a while does it get posted. Years ago I was posted much more often. The page is shit now - you do the math. "

Look. I know you've (said you've) gotten A's with all your other professors....but you should learn sooner rather than later that different people may expect different things from you - you should learn this now before you encounter it in real life. ...then again I am not sure how you are defining all in the first place, as I overheard you telling a classmate that you are failing another class....

Thurston - while I believe your response is correct, the reasons given in support your response are flawed. I'll give you half credit, and that is being generous.....

Why do I Bother? AKA It's That Time of Year Again AKA Can I Quit Yet? Vic From Vegas Asks All The Big Questions.

The 'flakes had a holiday last week, and then another, unexpected one earlier this week when I had to cancel class. I figured that in the interim, they might actually get their drafts done and bring them in for my consideration and for their peers to edit.

Silly me. Stupid, silly, naive me.

Out of the 2/3 that bother to come anymore, only a handful had their drafts. The rest sat around for about an hour and socialized until I told them that their assignment was now late, but, since they didn't have their flash drives and were not inclined to print out papers anyway, they might as well leave and bring the blasted things on Monday. One came to me to confirm what I had just said. I pointed out to him that the draft due date should have come as no big surprise, as it has been on the syllabus since the beginning of this semester--August, to be precise. "Oh, I never look at the syllabus," he replied. Well, that explains a great deal, does it not?

Out they went, more than half an hour before class is officially over. I started messing around on the computer. Then a Huxleyan Epsilon-Minus Semi-Moron entered the room and asked if this was Professor So-and-So's class. I explained that the other prof's class does not begin until 9:45 or so, and it was only 9:00. "Ohhhhhhhh," said the Moron, pointing at her empty head, "I'm not really here today."

This also explains a great deal.

I want answers to 3 questions: Why do I bother to show up at all? I could use up a lot more of my sick leave hours, which accumulate indefinitely, and still get paid. Why does this happen every semester when there only a few weeks remaining? And can I quit this mess yet and go into another line of work? Surely it's not too late. I am adjunct, after all, and not exactly beholden to this place.

Let's All Count the Blatant Lies, Bullshit, and Propaganda. Today's VidShizzle.

"Try to be in a good mood when you grade papers. But do not be in a VERY good mood. Try to be in an indifferent state."

Petunia, a Perplexed Parent Caught in a Piroutte of Paranoia, Asks Several Unanswerables.

What is a parent to do?

I teach at corporate mega-school with your choice of online experience which helps disquise the numerous related institutions students can switch between when they fuck up at one of the others. Anyway I see my share of snowflakes and have managed to survive most while letting a few win the battle of wills. Every 6 weeks I get another crop and every 6 weeks I wonder if it is time to move on. Luckily every session I get that one student who gives me hope.

This experience with public education scares the fuck out of me. In this intense state of fear I enrolled my child in a Montessori program. The issue is becoming a flashpoint exaspurated by the fact tuition is more than my paycheck and many of the parents/children treat me like I am homeless with my modest possessions. Recently I went on an extended rant to my neurologist about how he must be fucking retarded to allow his kids to go to public school in a country ranked behind places Americans are afriad to visit and in a state that makes the rest of the country look like Einstein fucking U. At least WV teaches kids how to process a deer for survival!

I love the teachers which is a fucking miracle since I have learned to hate just about everyone and everything. My son is only 5 and is doing basic multiplication, some simple division, working with decimals and reading better than most of my college students and while being able to have human emotions, such as empathy, that I could only wish of being able to fake to the genral public. I worry that this fantastic opportunity could fuck up his life by doing what they are suppose to do. The experience is effectively preventing him from becoming a normal snowflake. What happens when the day comes he has to enter public education?

Months of reading RYS has convienced me the university education will continue to be dumbed down to improve retention and other irrelevant aspects provided by the administration. In the end what is the point? Some of you are respectable intellectuals, while others like myself have become disillusioned by the idea of everyone getting a chance regardless of how badly they have failed in the past. I go as far as questioning my own education. Did I actually earn my degree? Do I actually have the intellectual muscle to teach others? Would my students, or for that matter my employers even be able to understand if I had sufficent knowlege about anything?

The saving grace is my son seems to enjoy school and is showing obvious benefits. But if everyone is going to get a trophy am I endangering his happiness and leading him to the dark side of frustration when he realizes others are incapable of the most simple tasks of functioning in a civilized society. We have all seen, ignorance is bliss and charity insures the weak survive. I just want him to be happy. Are we able to even remember what being happy outside of a bottle feels like?

God bless people like Amanda that are able to demonstrate hope in a seemingly healthy way. I am affraid to say Saramazingly looks like she is already heading down our dark road and GPS hasn't updated` the way out. We tell our students thay need to do what is best for them, but how can we make sure we are making the right decision for our kids.

Can someone give me some fucking hope my kid still has a chance!

The Emails of Late November.

Dear Snowie,

On the first day of class, I announced the deadline for your essay. I listed that date on your class syllabus. Your syllabus includes an assignment sheet, with the format requirements, specific requirements, the grading rubric, and suggestions. That material has 858 words—for an essay of 1000 words. Blackboard has a sample essay. For several weeks now, since the exam, I have started each class by asking for questions about the essay. I offered my help by mentioning my office hours, sometimes jokingly that my office is the loneliest spot on campus, sometimes pleadingly.

At 12:30 a.m., fewer than eight hours before our 8:00 a.m. class—the morning the essay is due--you email to ask if I can tell you “more about the essay, especially when it is absolutely due.”

I am sorry that I was neglectfully sleeping at 12:30 a.m., the day I rudely assigned an essay. I feel horrible that I failed to reply until 6:30 a.m. when I arrived on campus. I hate what my selfishness has caused—almost as much as I hate sarcasm.

Let me know if you have further questions please. I particularly welcome suggestions on what more I can do to help students.

Office Hours. Round One.

We received a ton of replies to the Twin Thirsty on office hours. We've picked a handful of the shorter pieces and have posted them below. Sometime after the holiday we'll feature some of the bits that have a little more heft. Please to, you know:

• My office ambiance is not about you. If you come in to my superabundant office hours, you stay 5-10 min, max. I live here. The aromatherapy keeps me calm so I don’t rip your arrogant head off when you don’t follow directions. The music puts a smile on my face when I go to class so I don’t scream when you aren’t prepared. Those diplomas on the wall? They remind me I do know what I’m talking about, even though you roll your eyes and text during lecture. And yes, those are my cats. They remind me I have a life outside of work, though you’d be hard-pressed to know it. So, little ‘flake, bugger off and let me have my creature comforts.
  
  
• Office hours are a convenient fiction and hold no useful value in education. I used to hold them…but nobody ever came by. EVAR. Being stuck in my cubby was a massive waste of time -- I ended up playing a lot of solitaire and killing time before I could go home and do something productive in my real office -- so I switched to setting appointments. If you really want to talk, email me, and we can set up a time to meet. I’ll reply, for realz…assuming that you (a) send your message to my actual email account, not one you magically made up for me, (b) use a non-craptacular subject line that the school’s spam filter triggers on, (c) don’t have a full inbox that bounces my reply, and (d) include your course and section number, so I know who you are. Do you have any clue how many of you are named Brittany, Ethan, Megan, and Adam? Oh…and if you’ve flaked on me once, good luck in getting a second meeting. Why don’t you just talk to me after class? If you’re like most snowflakes, your question usually can be answered in five minutes or less, and I’ve got that much time.
  
  
• My guess is that your profs aren't keeping their office hours because so pathetically few students actually show up to them that 99.99% of the time they know they won't be missed. I was always pretty meticulous about keeping office hours, but students rarely showed up. As often as not, they would wander in outside office hours--which was fine since unlike most of my colleagues, I'm there all day, either teaching or working in the office. But it's absurd to tie ourselves down for students who don't show. This semester, I'm keeping office hours "by appointment," and it has worked out just fine.
  
  
• Good Lord. I sit in my office hours as listed on the syllabus every single time, and no one ever shows up. The MINUTE I stop twiddling my thumbs to run down to the bathroom or dash over to the campus center to pick up a sandwich, someone comes to see me, waits five seconds before leaving, and then I get to hear complaints that I'm not around. It never fails.
  
  
• My posted office hours MWF 12-12:50, F 8-8:50. Student’s ideas of my office hours: Whenever I need to see you and it is an emergency. If the student is on campus, I should have office hours. Students rarely show up during office hours. The first day of class, I explain the purpose of them and encourage them to come. I even have a little map of where my office is located. Yet, on evaluations students tell me I am not available during my office hours. Believe me, I am in my little gulag of an office awaiting any visit. I finally realized students think office hours mean anytime I need access to the prof.
  
  
• As an adjunct who shares an office with 2346097235906 other adjuncts, I guess I'm with you on the weird-smells issue. Our office reeks of pickles. And so that plus the overcrowding makes me reluctant to commute down here early when parking is scarce and hang around if no one needs to see me. But it isn't all that big a deal; I mean, sure, I'll sit there, waiting for you -- or for night to fall. When you come with your important questions, though, would you mind actually sticking your head in and looking around before you try to claim I wasn't there? Hmm? Just hold your nose and look in, would you? I'm not standing in the door fidgeting and moping for you like I'm your goddamned date. Here I am, way over here, just behind the file cabinet! Hi!
  
  
• If my scented candles bother you, ask me to blow them out. Was that so hard? I keep this picture of my fiance on my desk to remind me of the wonderful vacation in the mountains, not as a ploy for gain your approval of my partner. Know what else? Think ahead. You might try e-mailing an instructor before you drop in on those "any old time" hours to make sure he or she is there. I bet the offices that these instructors work in also have telephones.
  
  
• Do they have any purpose in education? Um, yeah. I do have a fair number of students who visit me during office hours (and others who make and actually keep appointments). If you come to my office, I expect it to be for a reason. Will I answer a question on a homework problem? Sure. Go over a concept you’re fuzzy on? Yup but you have to tell me what part is unclear. If you just say “I don’t get it” I really don’t know where to begin. Actually I do know, but I won’t permit myself to drink on the job. Do you want me to look at your resume? Gladly. I’ll look at a cover letter but they all look the same after a while. Office hours are what you, the student, want to make of them. We’re here. Many of us are actually glad to see you. Let us know what you want from us (short of telling you what’s going to be on the exam – that just pisses me off) and we’ll go from there.
  
  
• Office hours OUGHT to be sacred. When I was an undergraduate, some of the best advice I ever got was during a professor's office hours, so now that I'm a department chair, I certainly take office hours seriously. (What's particularly poignant here was that this prof was useless during class, because of severe public speaking anxiety.) Office hours ought to be time specifically set aside for students, when the faculty make it a point to be available to the students, in their offices. If faculty find themselves sitting idle too often during office hours, it's time to remind the students during class that faculty are available to help students with their course work during office hours: I find that when I do this repeatedly during the term, instead of just once at the beginning of the term, the students do appear regularly. In my department, we would consider it damning if a student had good reason to write on their professor's end-of-term evaluation, "Professor X was not in her/his office during posted office hours." But then, we're not a Big Ten school, where the faculty hold the students in open contempt. Also, am I critically reading too much into the first post to deduce that this student went to one professor's office hours once, and was unimpressed by things quite unrelated to any conceivable course, such as odd (but not overpowering) smells and funny-looking kids? A mature person wouldn't act that way.