Literature and the Meaningful Life
Here’s a little something I found in my inbox this morning.
What makes for a meaningful life? I consider each day, not just the life as a whole. I look at four ingredients. First, was it a day of virtue? I’m talking about …avoiding harmful behavior of body, speech, and mind; devoting ourselves to wholesome behavior and to qualities like awareness and compassion. Second, I’d like to feel happy rather than miserable. The realized beings I’ve known exemplify extraordinary states of well-being, and it shows in their demeanor, their way of dealing with adversity, with life, with other people. And third, pursuit of the truth—seeking to understand the nature of life, of reality, of interpersonal relationships, or the nature of mind.
But you could do all that sitting quietly in a room. None of us exists in isolation, however, so there is a fourth ingredient: a meaningful life must also answer the question, “What have I brought to the world?” If I can look at a day and see that virtue, happiness, truth, and living an altruistic life are prominent elements, I can say, “You know, I’m a happy camper.” Pursuing happiness does not depend on my checkbook, or the behavior of my spouse, or my job, or my salary. I can live a meaningful life even if I only have ten minutes left.
-B. Alan Wallace from “What Is True Happiness” (Tricycle, Fall 2005)
The fourth ingredient is the one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. It’s the one that keeps me from quitting my job.
My personal life is pretty small: I have a wonderful fiancé, loving parents, good friends, a couple of cute and snuggly cats. Very few people depend on me, and those who do depend on me for very little – the possible exception is The Fiancé, but even he could get along just fine without me if he had to. Oh, and the cats – they’re people too – but their needs are simple.
If it’s true that “a meaningful life must also answer the question, ‘What have I brought to the world?’,” then my job as a teacher is the part of my life that answers that question the best. Every day, when I walk into the classroom or meet with a student in my office, I have the opportunity to bring something to the world. What I bring, and whether it helps anyone, is another question, but at least I am given that chance.
The question I posed yesterday – why should we teach literature? – is a similar question to the one Wallace raises, at least in the context of my job. What am I bringing to the world when I coerce my students into reading books they don’t want to read and thinking about them in ways they don’t feel are useful? Am I helping them? Am I helping the world?
I think maybe I am, but I have to keep asking myself the question.
Image by Melodi T
Why Study Literature?
Why should young people study literature? Why, in particular, should seventeen-to-twenty-year-olds who don’t read for pleasure and have weak literacy skills be forced to spend their time reading poetry, novels, plays etc. instead of working on simple reading comprehension and writing skills? Is it as important for students to read Salinger or Ishiguro as it is for them to read the newspaper? Why am I teaching this stuff?
For one of my MEd courses, I need to research, summarize and evaluate scholarly articles about teaching my discipline. In order to start on this review, I need to come up with a research question. Thus far, my general questions are those I list above. From here, I need to decide what, specifically, I want to investigate – skills that I want my students to learn by studying literature, and the best ways to teach these skills effectively.
Maybe you can help get my thoughts on this rolling. Do you have opinions on this subject? Why is the study of literature important? What skills do students learn through reading literature? Can they learn these skills through reading literature in ways that they can’t elsewhere? Why should college-level students who don’t like reading and who don’t see a practical application for literature in their lives be required to take English courses in which literary analysis is a major component? Are we serving them well by demanding this? Why do we not just focus on grammar and composition and leave the literature to the English majors?
Image by Szuszanna Kilian
Carnival of Educators: Jan. 12 2010
The latest Carnival of Educators is up at Notes From a Homeschooling Mom. Go read some good blog posts!
Top 10 Posts of 2009
Have you gotten behind on your blog reading? Do you wish you’d had time to read EVERY SINGLE POST here at Classroom as Microcosm this past year? Or are you a new reader who doesn’t know how to get caught up on all this teacherly goodness?
Never fear – I’ve put together a handy list to help you get up to speed. I checked out my stats meter for 2009 and compiled the posts that received the most hits in the last twelve months. I don’t know for sure that these are the best posts I’ve published this year – maybe you can tell me! – but they’re the ones that made people take notice, for better or for worse.
1. Top 10 Student Excuses for Missing Class:
This post’s popularity is due in large part to Sarah Ebner at School Gate, who came across it and generously promoted it more than once to her TimeOnline readers. It remains one of my favourite posts, because it reminds me each time I read it that my students are complex and interesting people, and that not all excuses are sneaky fictional attempts to avoid consequences!
2. 10 Reasons I Hate Grading Your Assignment:
A rising stat meter usually makes a blogger very happy: people are reading my post! Hurrah! In the case of this post, however, the rising meter eventually triggered a full-blown panic attack. A lot of people were made very angry by this rant, in which I wax furious on green printer ink, 1-and-1/2 spacing, sloppy proofreading and unauthorized email submissions. I also received some very nice comments and emails congratulating me on my uncompromising standards, but this post marks the first time, ever, in my life, that I wished people were paying a little less attention to me.
A follow-up post, in which I examine the effects of the negative feedback on my state of mind, was also high on the list of top posts.
3. Sulk and the 17-year-old Girl:
The saga of Mary, Melanie, and especially Marta begins here, and the anxiety of dealing with these difficult but interesting girls was more than offset by the pleasure I got from writing about them. Later posts on the trio that also received lots of hits are part two of “Sulk…“, my wrap-up of several of the winter semester’s top stories, and a one-act screenplay of my final meeting with the three girls.
4. Who Says You Have To Go To College?:
The question of whether college is the best path for everyone has been on the table a lot in the past year, and this probably accounts for the popularity of this post.
5. Holden Caulfield Has Left the Building:
Have teenagers really had it with Holden Caulfield? My classroom experience says yes and no.
I was surprised to see this post near the top, as it’s relatively recent, but the story of Yannick’s troubles and my refusal to baby him seems to have resonated with a lot of readers.
7. There Are Worse Things Than Dropping Out of School:
Another post that asks whether school is really for everyone.
8. If You Use This Phrase in Your Essay, You Will Fail:
Top 10 lists seem to always be a hit. In this one, I enumerate some word choices that I’d be happy never to read again.
9. What I Did On My Summer “Vacation”:
This one came out in August, just as everyone was ready to start thinking about teaching again; maybe that’s why it received a lot of visits. It’s a response to the 2009 Professional Development Meme; I had previously listed my professional development goals for the summer, and in this post I examine whether I met them.
After reading this post about how I implemented my friend Lorri’s “one minute of silence” exercise in my classroom, a lot of readers wrote to say that they were going to try it, too. I didn’t maintain this exercise throughout the semester, but I may do it again sometime and stick with it to observe the results.
And, because I do love a good, justified rant, a bonus post…
This one is worth it for the “angry kitty” photo alone.
Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and making my blogging so rewarding!
Image by Owais Khan
The New Semester: 10 Resolutions
Classes start again in less than two weeks. (Primary, secondary and university teachers who are already back at work, I know what you’re thinking: “Shut up.” Believe me, I know how good I’ve got it.)
I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. However, one theme that presents itself frequently in my Buddhist meditation practice and my yoga classes is that of “setting an intention.” Why am I doing this? What do I want from it? Where will I place my effort?
So before the kicks to the head begin, I thought I’d “set some intentions” for the semester. What am I going to focus on when the going gets rough?
1. I will work hard.
Teachers will look at #1 and say, “Like you’ll have a choice.” Fair enough. However, one of my greatest struggles is that I resist work and resent it. What will happen if I decide that I want to work hard? What if I look at every stack of papers and every test that needs to be prepared and I think, “Here’s another chance to work hard, just like I wanted”?
2. I will not count the days until the end of the semester.
I need to stop wishing my life away. I need to see my work life for what it is: the place where I learn and grow more than I do anywhere else.
3. I will approach my students as people, not problems.
Registration is in progress, and today I checked my student lists, which are about half complete. So far, two familiar names caused my heart to sink a little.
Am I going to walk in anticipating difficulties? Or am I going to walk in with the attitude that these students are complex, evolving beings who are bound to surprise me in one way or another? If I can truly be present with my students, I can help them more and they, in turn, can teach me something.
4. I will meditate. Every morning, if possible.
Meditation keeps me grounded and sane. It gives me perspective and helps me to stop working myself into a lather. I have an early schedule this semester – my classes often begin at 8 a.m. – and I prefer to meditate in the mornings, so it will be tricky. But even 10 minutes a day makes a big difference, so I need to work it in somehow.
5. I will take care of my body.
Exercise is the first thing to go when I get busy. I love my yoga classes, but I often skip them when there are too many other things on my plate. I also love to ski and to jog, and doing these things makes me feel better about everything. Besides, I’m getting married in September, and I’d like shopping for a dress to be something other than a continuous pounding of my self-esteem. So I need to exercise, if not every day (that might be asking too much), then at least as regularly as I can manage.
6. I will not forget about my friends.
I find it very difficult, during the semester, to maintain a social life outside of work. I’m too stressed to enjoy parties, and even scheduling coffee or dinner feels like a chore rather than a break. I need to change my perspective on this. My obligations to my work community are important, but so are my connections to my larger community. Spending time with friends gives me distance from whatever’s going on at work.
7. I will find enjoyment in even difficult or tedious tasks.
There are things about teaching that I hate. It is possible to hate them less by taking joy in small or big things.
I hate grading essays, but I do like playing with different coloured pens, Post-Its, rubber stamps and other stationery bits. I also enjoy methodical tasks like grading MLA formatting, where I don’t need to think, but can just turn on some fun music and check things off a checklist.
I hate dealing with conflict. However, a conflict with a student is an opportunity to examine myself more closely and learn something. If I’m stressed about dealing with a difficult person, I often reconnect with my meditation practice, do more exercise, write more blog posts, and generally invest in activities that help me work through the problem. Difficult people can be seen as “enemies” or as “gurus.” If I can stop fighting the problem and instead sink into it fully and be curious about it, I can actually take some pleasure in the process.
8. I will take care of my environment.
My offices, both at work and at home, need to be cleaned and reorganized. My apartment also needs to be thoroughly scrubbed – I’m actually considering hiring someone to do this. I detest cleaning, but I also detest living in grubby conditions. I need to set the world around me in order. It helps me feel better.
9. I will be grateful.
I have a great job and a great life. I need to actively remind myself of that, again and again.
I recently made a half-hearted attempt at a “gratitude journal.” Every evening, I made a list of ten things (or more) that had happened that day that I was grateful for. It was never difficult to come up with ten things; my list often extended to twenty items and beyond, and doing it made me feel great.
Last night, The Fiancé and I watched a segment of Dan Gilbert’s “This Emotional Life” in which he presents some of the techniques of “positive psychology.” Taking time each day to note down things that went well is one practice that positive psychology teaches. So it’s not just me – there’s some scientific backing for this. One way or another, it improves my outlook.
10. I will set an intention every morning.
There are going to be problems. Teaching is hard, and teaching well is especially hard, because it involves real engagement with real people, and real people are challenging. There will be days when my stomach will be knotted with dread from the moment I wake up. Setting an intention for the day – What do I want to learn? How will I set that learning in motion? – can untie that knot and allow it to blossom into useful energy.
In the evening I can then examine my intention and how it shaped my day. If I carried it out in some way, I can feel glad; if I avoided it altogether, I can feel glad that I have the insight to recognize that. Buddhists call this daily activity of setting and examining intentions “one at the beginning, one at the end.”
I need to post this list up somewhere, and add to it. A fifteen-week semester equals seventy-five school days. If I can engage in each day with mindfulness, curiosity and effort, instead of just allowing the days to happen to me, I may be able to love what I do all the time.
Even when I feel like punching someone. Which is bound to happen.
Image by Chutiporn Chaitachawong
Bad class? Define “Bad.”
If a class is loud, irritating and occasionally rude, does that mean it’s a bad class? If I come away from every meeting with them wishing it was the last, does that mean things aren’t going well? Or are my feelings irrelevant, if the students are actually learning something?
This past semester, one class gave me more than the usual level of grief. There were a few conditions that led to the problem.
They were a Preparation for College English class; Prep courses are designed for second-language students whose skills are so weak that they can’t be admitted to a 101 course. There were therefore a number of students in the class struggling with motivation and other academic difficulties. We met from 4 to 6 in the afternoon, the worst possible time for any class in my opinion, but particularly for a remedial class.
There was also one student, Ahmad, who was determined not only to remain unfocused but to disrupt others’ focus as well, and many students were happy to join in with his shenanigans, from steering the class discussion wildly off course to trading jovial insults to making silly noises.
What’s more, every student in the class seemed to have a cell phone out at all times, and it seemed like the only way to deal with the problem would have been to throw the whole lot of them out.
The atmosphere was frenetic and silly, and it was often difficult to work our way through material because so much time was wasted trying to keep the noise under control and telling them to stop doing this and start doing that, etc.
However, I found myself in a conundrum.
I was tempted to tell the main troublemaker to leave the class and to clamp down on the foolish behavior, but there was another side to the problem. Most people in the class actually seemed to be learning. When we went through grammar explanations and exercises, they fell over each other asking questions and challenging the rules I gave them. They rarely did their homework, but when we did in-class seatwork, they completed it diligently and volunteered answers. And generally speaking, their grades on tests and essays were fine, except for a handful who weren’t learning the material because they weren’t showing up for class.
The students also seemed to be having a pretty good time. When we played games, they threw themselves into them with such abandon that we had to take long pauses to calm them down. And, aside from one or two very shy people who seemed slightly uncomfortable but wryly entertained by all the goings-on, most of the people in the class seemed to genuinely grow to like each other, mostly because of their shared amusement over Ahmad’s inappropriate behavior (I heard frequent fond murmurs of “Stupid guy!,” as though he were a kitten who kept falling off the couch.)
So what, really, did I want to happen?
I wanted a productive classroom atmosphere, one in which students could learn to the best of their abilities. But was I sure I didn’t already have that? It was true that this environment might not be optimal for all students, but is any classroom situation optimal for everybody? Was my concern really about what was best for the students, or was my concern about my ego, my desire to be a “good teacher” who commands unconditional respect and who can control every aspect of what goes on in her classroom?
When speaking to my office mate, I sometimes drew comparisons between this class and my other section of the same course. The other section met earlier in the day; there were more girls than boys in the class, which I believe changed the tone; and there were a number of strong, sweet personalities, students who gave off a positive and diligent energy. There were never any behavior issues. Most of them always did their homework. They never talked when I was talking. The most cell phone abuse I saw was an occasional quick text message under a desk.
But grammar lessons often passed in dull silence, and when we played games, they never really got off the ground. What’s more, their grades were not as good as those of the other class. This could have been for a couple of reasons: maybe they were weaker to begin with, and so felt a greater need to focus, but maybe the other class’s high energy was actually helping them absorb, process and engage more.
I tried a number of tactics with my crazy class. For a while, I had them sit silently for a minute before class started, and this sometimes helped. Near the end of the term, after a particularly intolerable lesson, I gave them a stern talking-to, and that helped. For one class period. But our last class together was as annoying to me as all the rest, and I never resolved in my own mind whether I should have done things differently.
All those who showed up regularly ended up passing the course, so it’s not like they didn’t learn anything.
Was the atmosphere disruptive to them and their learning, or was it only disruptive to me?
Image by Miguel Ugalde
Carnival of Educators for Dec. 30: Bare Bones
We were actually going to postpone this week’s Carnival of Educators due to a lack of submissions, but a few last-minute entries has made it possible for it to go forward. Unfortunately, this means that I don’t have the time to do the bang-up job I’d like to in giving you some insights into each of the posts. So here (a few hours early) is a very bare-bones mini-carnival for this holiday week.
M Dahms gives us “What is Reader’s Workshop?”
From Notes from a Homeschool Mom: It’s All About Flexibility and Schools are Becoming Suspension Crazy.
Joanne Jacobs tells us why Teaching Shouldn’t Be the Worst Job.
Online Courses gives us a list of 100 Excellent Twitter Feeds for Tech-Savvy Students.
Benzu gives us some reasons to Study Architecture.
And here at Classroom as Microcosm, you can read about how I learned something valuable about teaching while Scrabbling for the Stone.
Sorry for the brevity, folks, but here’s hoping we get a whole whack of submissions next week, and the Carnival will be much meatier! You can submit your post using this handy submission form. In the meantime, Happy New Year!
Scrabbling for the Stone
It’s been a rough week.
I got a couple of shrieking emails from Lia on Tuesday. I wrote to another student, Janet, on Saturday, to let her know that I wouldn’t be grading her essay rewrite, because I’d found it on my office floor days after the deadline, with no indication of when it had been submitted. Janet’s response was neither contrite nor understanding, and, like Lia’s, repeated the word “unfair” several times.
I then received an email from Yannick, whose story I began telling a few weeks ago. He wanted to meet with me. Yannick, as I detailed in the earlier post, disappeared from my course about a month into the semester and then reappeared three weeks before the end, asking if there was any way he could pass, because if he didn’t, he’d be suspended for a year. Since then, he’s been showing up for class and doing reasonably good work trying to catch up, but not the exceptional work that would be necessary to compensate for his absences. I responded as follows.
Yannick, please let me know what the nature of your questions is. If you’d like to discuss the grade for your blog, for example, I’d like to point out that the grade you received is in fact quite generous, and I won’t be altering it. You’re welcome to take this up with the Grades Review committee if you really feel there’s a problem.
Unless you have something new to discuss, I feel we’ve talked about your situation quite enough.
I spent Saturday in knots. I was hyperventilating, I couldn’t concentrate on anything, and finally I gave up trying to mark papers and went to a yoga class. This helped, but Saturday night I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake having angry conversations in my head in which I justified my actions to Janet and Yannick. I was so agitated that at one point I got out of bed, booted up the computer, and began researching education PhD programs at the local universities. Maybe, I thought, I needed to spend some time thinking about the classroom instead of being in it.
But on Sunday morning, I shook myself awake and dragged myself to the morning session of Nyinthun, the monthly day-long meditation intensive, at the Montreal Shambhala Centre. As I settled onto my cushion, I set an intention for my meditation practice: I was going to try to release all this anger. I was going to try to find a place of equanimity.
The first two hours were spent alternately in sitting and walking meditation. I tried to focus on my constricted, struggling breathing; I often find that hyperventilation helps me stay present in meditation, as it’s very difficult to take my mind off the breath! It was doing me some good, but I still felt gripped by fear every time my mind wandered to the moment when I’d go home and would have to decide whether to check my email or avoid it for a few more hours.
Near the end of the morning session, one of the instructors, Francesca, stood and said that she would be leading us in an exercise. The theme of today’s Nyinthun, she explained, was a reflection on the holiday season. We were going to do a practice to help us contemplate this theme.
“At this time of year,” she said, “things become intensified. Things begin moving faster. There is more darkness. There are a lot of things to do. All this leads to an intensification of our experience and our emotions.
“In addition, when it comes to the holidays, we all have a desire. We could have many desires, but often one desire is dominant. It could be a desire for a material thing. It could be a desire for something we want to happen, or not happen. I’d like you to think about what your desire is for this holiday time.”
It didn’t take me long. My desire, I thought, is for my semester to be over. Really over. I want the grades to be in; I want the emails from students to stop; I want to put everything about the term behind me except a few good memories, and to move into a brief space of a few weeks when I’m not a teacher. I want to meditate, cook good food, read novels, clean my house, and not think about teaching at all. I want to be released.
Francesca picked a smooth, large stone up from the altar and held it up. “I want you to think of this stone,” she said, “as the object of your desire. Look at this stone and, in it, see your desire.” Then she asked us to clear the mediation cushions away from a small space in the middle of the room. She placed a little table in the centre of the space, and set the stone on top of it. Then she used cushions to create a tight perimetre around the table, and asked us, the dozen or so participants, to stand within the perimetre.
“When I give the signal,” she said, “I want you to walk randomly around this small space, and as often as possible, I want you to touch this object of your desire. Don’t move in a circle as you would in walking meditation. Just walk back and forth, and try to cover the whole space, coming back to touch the stone as often as you can. At a certain point, I’ll begin to clap my hands. As I speed up my clapping, speed up your walking.”
We began to walk, touching the stone, walking away, returning to touch the stone again, bumping and jostling each other as we tried to manoeuvre the constricted space. As Francesca clapped her hands more and more quickly, we found ourselves tripping over one another to get to the stone. At one point she stopped, pushed the cushion perimetre even closer to the table, and had us do the exercise again.
I was doing my best to take this all in good spirits, but I could feel my irritation rise with every nudge and bump. I’d come here to sit and walk in silence – Nyinthuns, after all, are supposed to be mostly silent retreats, where we eat lunch without speaking and hold talks and discussions only at the end of the day. I’d been looking forward to a morning of this silence, but here I was, still a bag of nerves, fighting with a bunch of strangers to touch a rock.
Then Francesca brought us all to a halt. “Now,” she said, “I want you to let go of the stone. Forget about it. I want you to walk through this space again, and speed up as I clap, in just the same way. But instead of looking at the stone – instead of looking at the object of your desire – I want you to look at the others, the people. As you meet them, look at them. Go.”
We began walking around again. As we encountered one another, we looked each other in the eye. It was embarrassing, and uncomfortable, and it wasn’t long before everyone was smiling awkwardly. And then smiling broadly, grinning at one another as we passed. Francesca clapped more and more quickly, and we slid by each other more and more rapidly, but there were only a few bumps and jostles. There was mostly just smiling, and even a bit of laughter. When the clapping stopped and we slowed to a halt, we just stood there beaming at one another.
“Do you see?” Francesca asked. “Do you see what I mean?”
We returned the cushions to their places, and as I settled back onto my crossed legs, I felt like I might melt into the floor.
My fixation, my obsession, with the object of my desire – the end of my semester, the resolution of all the semester’s problems, the elusive peace that I would supposedly feel when it was all done – had blinkered me. The students who were pestering me – Lia, Janet, Yannick – were not obstacles between me and the stone, hurdles to be climbed over or knocked down. They were people. They were responding to their lives in the same way that I was, scrabbling to get at the stone: the good grade, or the passing grade, or the sense of pride that comes when a teacher respects and validates you. I was angry because they were getting in my way. They were angry with me for the same reason. If I could see them, not as frustrating roadblocks, but as people, then maybe I could stop fighting them, and start looking them in the eye. I needed to understand that the stone is not the point. They are.
The morning session was almost done. We sat for a few more minutes, and then scattered for lunch. I couldn’t stay for the afternoon, but I stopped Francesca to tell her that the exercise had meant a lot to me.
As I made my way to the metro, my mind no longer simmering, a couple of quiet revelations emerged: a memory of a gesture I’d made a week ago but forgotten, and an inspiration for another one.
That evening, I wrote a message to Janet.
After sending you that last note, I realized that I had in fact agreed to look over the rewrite of one of your classmates, and give it a small bonus, even though it arrived late. This is because the student contacted me IMMEDIATELY about the problem. You did not take that step, but because I did this for him, I will do it for you as well. I hope you will thank him in your heart for his responsibility and common sense.
And to Yannick, I wrote the following:
You have been extremely respectful and reasonable throughout this whole process, and I appreciate this. As I emphasized to you in our last meeting, I am not going to give you extra work or any other special privileges; I will not be giving you any opportunities that I did not give to everyone in the class. I do, however, have a suggestion for you. I think you should go see the dean of your program and explain your situation to him/her. I would be more than happy to send your dean an email or letter attesting to the fact that, although you were not able to pass my course, you made a good effort at the end, and that I expect that if you are re-admitted to the college next semester, you will try harder. This might make a difference, and at the very least, your dean might have some advice that could help you.
After sending these messages, I read them over several times. I still wasn’t sure that I was doing the right thing, or that I was doing it for the right reasons. But I went to bed, and I slept very well.
Image by Armin Hanisch
Lia is Outraged
Despite the relief that classes are now over, I don’t really like this time of the semester. As I plow through the stacks of final assignments in a kind of death march, slowly posting the grades up online, students begin to panic and sides of their personalities emerge that I haven’t seen before. Consider the following exchange yesterday with a student who, until now, has given me no trouble whatsoever:
[Email from me to several students:]
If you are receiving this message, it is because you submitted an essay rewrite to me without the original essay and feedback sheet attached. As is clearly indicated in the assignment guidelines, rewrites submitted without an original will not be graded.
As it happens, I need to go to my office on Friday. If I haven’t submitted the final grades for your class by then, and if your original essay and feedback sheet are in my office at that time (put them under my door), I will then look over your rewrite. As you know, the rewrite was an optional assignment; because of the late submission, I will not do a thorough re-grade, but will give you a small rewrite bonus if you have done a good job.
[Reply from Lia, student in my post-intro class. The reply is reproduced in its entirety:]
A small rewrite BONUS?!? I did a rewrite to improve my grade, there was no place left under your office door anyway, so my paper would have been stiking out and probably stolen!! Unfair that’s all i have to say. And to add, I think my oral last week was the best i’ve ever done in my life. I wasn’t reading my note sheet because i knew my material and many people told me I did a good job. I’ll bring the original tomorrow, maybe you should hang something on the door for people to put their papers inside.
[My reply:]
Lia:
I am surprised by the tone of your email. If you were not happy with your oral grade, you were perfectly within your rights to contact me and make an appointment to discuss it, so I could explain the criteria to you. (You could even have come back to see me on the day I gave you the grade.) If there was no room under my door for your original, there were several solutions: you could have brought it to the print shop and asked them to put it in my mailbox, or you could have sent me an email saying that you were concerned about leaving your paper and asking what you should do.
It also sounds like you have not understood what a “small rewrite bonus” means – it means that your grade will probably improve, although perhaps not as much as it would have if I had received your original in a timely manner.
In the future, if you have issues with a grade you have been given or any other actions on the part of your teachers, I would suggest that you contact them and ask for an opportunity to discuss the matter. An angry and accusatory message is not usually the best solution to any problem. If you wish to discuss these matters further, please make arrangements to do so in person; you are welcome to make an appointment to see me on Friday.
You are also welcome to bring your original to the print shop instead of putting it under my door if that makes you feel safer.
[Lia's reply:]
Miss Curious, I am far from being angry, I just sens that you are not grading me right and I live far from school and there is nothing much to say becuase I read the criteria on the paper and still don’t think it’s right but if that’s the grade you honestly think I deserve then I am disapointed in myself! I have nothing to add, that is why I don’t need an appointment. And the paper, I didn’t think of the printshop because the print shop is not your office. all I know is I was asked to bring my documents to your office and that it didn’t fit. Now this is what I’m complaining about the fact that I will not get the complete grade I was supposed to get for the rewrite. why? Just because i did my work in time but only kept my original because I thought it wouldn’t be safe to leave it on the floor stiking out. I don’t see why people who did their work would be penelized. Anyways i don’t think you see what I’m saying but happy holidays, enjoy the winter break. Lia M.
[My reply:]
Have a good holiday, Lia. Please put your original under my door or in my mailbox tomorrow or any time before Friday.
Because I’ve instructed her to discuss this with me in person, I have not replied to her question of “Why?” I’ve learned the hard way that perpetuating these email exchanges is a bad idea. What’s more, the answer is obvious: she was given very clear instructions, and the fact that I’m grading her paper at all is a compromise.
Nevertheless, an outburst from a student always makes me question my actions and my motivations. Is she right? Is a penalty justified, even if it’s not really a penalty at all? (Because this rewrite is optional, the only possible effect it can have on her grade is a boost; this is part of the reason the criteria are so strict, because otherwise they’ll keep trickling in for weeks.) Am I enforcing this deadline to be fair to everyone, or to teach them something important that has nothing to do with English literature? Or am I just trying to punish them for inconveniencing me?
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to follow an “online retreat” at Tricycle Magazine on the topic of kindness. The retreat is hosted by Sharon Salzberg, a famous name in the world of “Insight Meditation.” One question I’ve been meaning to post in the Q & A, although I haven’t yet managed to do it, is about situations like these.
If I aspire to be kind, if I form that intention and try to carry it out, then what do I do for a student like Lia? Is it kind to let her give vent to her anger? To engage in an exchange over email in which I try to explain my actions in a way she will understand? Or is it kind to be firm, and to set clear boundaries and stick to them? Could I have changed something in my tone in my first message that would have made it kinder, not only to her, but to the other students who received it? Or should I just accept her late original and grade her and the others who forgot it in the same way I grade the students who handed everything in on time?
I know that a big part of growth is simply asking oneself these questions, but I worry about myself sometimes. Sometimes I just want to punish people, and I have to try to separate that impulse from the truth of the situation in order to decide on the best course of action. Here, I’m not sure.
In the end, I feel sad. Someone’s going out into the world with sour feelings about me. I often tell myself that being liked is not my job, but part of me still doesn’t believe it. And that’s why I don’t like this time of year. No matter how well things have gone, there’s always a little pill to swallow that leaves a bitter aftertaste.
Image by Zsuzsanna Kilian
Dear Auntie Siobhan: Should I Become a Teacher?
Hi Siobhan,
First, let me say that your blog is a great resource. I stumbled on it a few weeks ago and have read almost all of the entries. Your writing is refreshingly articulate, and I have enjoyed reading it.
I’m considering a career in CEGEP teaching down the line. At this stage I have the qualifications (an MA in English), but no teaching experience. My own CEGEP experience was fantastic. I was a Liberal Arts student at — College, where we addressed our teachers by first name and were intimately acquainted with everybody in the program. Knowledge for its own sake was celebrated, and a general atmosphere of intellectual freedom and exploration was encouraged.
I have to admit that while reading your blog has been great, it has contrasted a lot with my own CEGEP experience. When you speak about your students, who call you “miss”, they seem more child-like. It makes me a bit nervous about entering into this career! How much of your job is disciplinary? Would you recommend a career as a CEGEP teacher?
Thanks so much for writing your blog.
-Sonia
Dear Sonia:
Thanks so much for your note. It’s great to hear that you’ve been reading my blog and getting something out of it.
I enjoy my job as a CEGEP teacher, but I find it very challenging. There are indeed disciplinary issues, and some of them are serious. There are also students who struggle a lot with academic challenges. A Liberal Arts program at — College is not at all representative of the general CEGEP population; I regularly deal with students who can barely read and write in English (or, I suspect, in any language) and whose levels of maturity vary wildly. In order to really enjoy teaching CEGEP, I think it’s necessary to embrace the challenges of working with such students.
Most of the CEGEP teachers I know who truly enjoy their jobs are people who have previous teaching experience or education degrees. Working with high school students, in particular, is excellent preparation. Most of the teachers I know who quickly burn out are those who come to the job straight out of graduate school and expect to be working with the equivalent of university English majors. It’s important to remember that English is a core subject at CEGEP – all students must take it, regardless of their program, and many have little interest and weak skills.
I taught in other venues for a number of years before becoming a CEGEP teacher. CEGEP teaching has many advantages over other teaching jobs – we have long holidays, we have a lighter workload than secondary teachers, and we are not expected to research or publish like university professors (although our colleagues are usually excited and proud when we do!) But as far as the teaching itself is concerned, most of my satisfaction comes, not from the celebration of “knowledge for its own sake” or opportunities to encourage “intellectual freedom and exploration” – most of my students have little interest in these concepts – but from seeing students in difficulty overcome obstacles, or from seeing the occasional talented student really shine.
All CEGEPs are different, so you might be able to find a place with a similar atmosphere to the one you experienced as a student. If your general goal is to become a CEGEP teacher, however, I think it’s important to examine whether the challenges of CEGEP teaching really interest you.
If you’d like to know more about some of the stages I went through in relation to my job, you might want to check out a series I wrote for the TimesOnline’s education blog, a series called “How I Saved My Teaching Career.” You will find the first post, and links to the rest, here:
Good luck! I hope you’ll think it over some more and come to the conclusion that’s right for you. Any job is hard, and a CEGEP teaching job is a really good deal as jobs go, if teaching is what you want to do. I’d be happy to know about the decision you come to, or any other questions you have.
Yours,
Siobhan
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My name is Siobhan. I teach college English, and I write about that here.
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