Friday, April 20, 2007
Wow, the day began beautifully. I woke up this morning happy and content. I was thinking about my wife, believing that I would not see her because she usually goes to the gym in the morning, and she was home! Sitting in the office, at her computer. I was thrilled. I know it sounds silly, but I was really looking forward to seeing her today. She was not excited to see me, however. You know the feeling -- when your expectations don't match the reality. Oh well.
Then I get to work, check my mail, and the first thing I read is a grade complaint. I don't mind students who might question a grade, but what drives me nuts is heavy-handed approaches, ones that are not focused on the learning, but rather on the grade. Let's analyze the rhetoric in this post:
Professor Lund, I was really disappointed in my grade for this critical essay. I worked very hard on it. I noticed you changed the specifications for it very close to the due date and I did not have time to revise my paper, plus I had already submitted it. I even showed this paper to my professor at Lindenwood and he thought it was exellent, he is a PHD in English. Could you please let me know if it would be possible to revise it and resubmit it? After discussing with some of the other students in class, it seems that a fair amount had trouble with this assignment as well. Thank you.
The message begins respectfully, with "Mr. Lund." This is good rhetoric if you are trying to convince somebody of something, to begin on firm footing. The second line says I am really disappointed in my grade, which is my first indication of what sort of student this is. The message does not refer to the comments I made about the essay, or why the student received the grade they recieved, but rather just focuses on the grade.
Next, the student says, "I worked very hard," which, I guess, for some, means I deserve a reward. Hard work = Reward. Not true in my book. Education is a meritocracy, not a "work-very-hard-tocracy". If a mechanic works really hard on your car, but it still doesn't work, the work is meaningless. It is not good work, maybe not a good mechanic.
All for now.
Then I get to work, check my mail, and the first thing I read is a grade complaint. I don't mind students who might question a grade, but what drives me nuts is heavy-handed approaches, ones that are not focused on the learning, but rather on the grade. Let's analyze the rhetoric in this post:
Professor Lund, I was really disappointed in my grade for this critical essay. I worked very hard on it. I noticed you changed the specifications for it very close to the due date and I did not have time to revise my paper, plus I had already submitted it. I even showed this paper to my professor at Lindenwood and he thought it was exellent, he is a PHD in English. Could you please let me know if it would be possible to revise it and resubmit it? After discussing with some of the other students in class, it seems that a fair amount had trouble with this assignment as well. Thank you.
The message begins respectfully, with "Mr. Lund." This is good rhetoric if you are trying to convince somebody of something, to begin on firm footing. The second line says I am really disappointed in my grade, which is my first indication of what sort of student this is. The message does not refer to the comments I made about the essay, or why the student received the grade they recieved, but rather just focuses on the grade.
Next, the student says, "I worked very hard," which, I guess, for some, means I deserve a reward. Hard work = Reward. Not true in my book. Education is a meritocracy, not a "work-very-hard-tocracy". If a mechanic works really hard on your car, but it still doesn't work, the work is meaningless. It is not good work, maybe not a good mechanic.
All for now.
Labels: FW April 20
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What's the deal with men in suits?
I was walking back from the IT Help desk, and as I walked out of the 21xx hallway, I saw a group of four male faculty members walking out of a meeting room, and each of them were wearing suits, and here I am, stressed jeans, casual button-down shirt, untucked, with my 15 year-old scuffed Doc Marten's. I felt inferior, like a slob, like peas on a breakfast plate -- out of place.
I have a suit, and a variety of ties, and sometimes I think it would be much easier getting dressed in the morning if that was all I was to wear -- no decisions to make more taxing than which tie to wear. It's not that my dress decisions are all that taxing in the morning as it stands. For the most part, my decisions are made by my gut. I ask myself what feels right, what would feel comfortable, and sometimes I can't come up with a good answer when I stare into my closet, so I settle on something that may or may not look or feel good.
But it seems to me that wearing a suit is a power play. These men were obviously exiting some sort of meeting in which very important decisions were being made. They had that air about them.
This is dull. I don't want to write about suits anymore. Like my dress dilemma each morning, it just doesn't feel right. What do I want to write about? What's on my mind today? Marriage is always on my mind. Is it worth it? Why bother? What is love?
None of this feels right either.
How about ROTC? hehe. Nah. No interest.
I don't know what to write about, what to write about, to write about, write about, about, about, about, about, qwerty is a fine name for a dog, don't ya think? What is an interesting and unique fun fact about you? Do you eat spaghetti for breakfast? Yuck. What's your favorite cereal? I like a whole variety of candy cereals -- fruit loops with marshmallows is a tasty sweet buzzy treat. Chomp, chomp, chomp!
Blah, blah, blah. I know that I say that if you keep writing, something will come, but nothing's coming damnit! Damn this freewriting to hell. Down with the heretic! Burn em!
Burn em.
Burn Hem
Burn him!
I was walking back from the IT Help desk, and as I walked out of the 21xx hallway, I saw a group of four male faculty members walking out of a meeting room, and each of them were wearing suits, and here I am, stressed jeans, casual button-down shirt, untucked, with my 15 year-old scuffed Doc Marten's. I felt inferior, like a slob, like peas on a breakfast plate -- out of place.
I have a suit, and a variety of ties, and sometimes I think it would be much easier getting dressed in the morning if that was all I was to wear -- no decisions to make more taxing than which tie to wear. It's not that my dress decisions are all that taxing in the morning as it stands. For the most part, my decisions are made by my gut. I ask myself what feels right, what would feel comfortable, and sometimes I can't come up with a good answer when I stare into my closet, so I settle on something that may or may not look or feel good.
But it seems to me that wearing a suit is a power play. These men were obviously exiting some sort of meeting in which very important decisions were being made. They had that air about them.
This is dull. I don't want to write about suits anymore. Like my dress dilemma each morning, it just doesn't feel right. What do I want to write about? What's on my mind today? Marriage is always on my mind. Is it worth it? Why bother? What is love?
None of this feels right either.
How about ROTC? hehe. Nah. No interest.
I don't know what to write about, what to write about, to write about, write about, about, about, about, about, qwerty is a fine name for a dog, don't ya think? What is an interesting and unique fun fact about you? Do you eat spaghetti for breakfast? Yuck. What's your favorite cereal? I like a whole variety of candy cereals -- fruit loops with marshmallows is a tasty sweet buzzy treat. Chomp, chomp, chomp!
Blah, blah, blah. I know that I say that if you keep writing, something will come, but nothing's coming damnit! Damn this freewriting to hell. Down with the heretic! Burn em!
Burn em.
Burn Hem
Burn him!
Labels: Men in Suits
Monday, April 16, 2007
Well, just got bacl from New Orleans (read as "Nah-Ahlins"). It was a good trip. I like to travel, although not as much as I used to. Nowadays, I am a creature of habit and it takes me a while to break out of my established routines to enjoy something new. Weird. Think of all the things I miss because I just don't want to disturb my normal routine.
Anyway, New Orleans is quite a place, at least what I saw of it. Mainly, I saw the French Quarter, the Garden District, and some of midtown. Bourbon street is a sight to behold. There is a feeling of anything goes, a decadence or hedonism that is really not my thing. But there's also music . . . everywhere . . . and I appreciate this. Open-air bars with every conceivable type of music emanating from them -- country, blues, jazz, classic rock, 80's rock, hip-hop, funk, zydeco. Musicians on the streets, with guitar cases open, playing for tips. Music seems to be a huge part of the New Orleans culture, much more so than here, or MN.
The conference was awright -- the sessions on rhetoric not so good, but the sessions on film and literature were awesome. I'm going to use McCarthy's the road in Lit class. I'd like to contact the presenter and see if I can have a copy of his paper to post for students to read. It was interesting, although I'm still not sure of the Social Contract connection, because it seems like in McCarthy's book, the contract has been thrown away; it's useless, although the boy and father make a contract with each other, I guess.
I'm tired. Got home at 3:30am. Not much sleep.
I'm out.
Anyway, New Orleans is quite a place, at least what I saw of it. Mainly, I saw the French Quarter, the Garden District, and some of midtown. Bourbon street is a sight to behold. There is a feeling of anything goes, a decadence or hedonism that is really not my thing. But there's also music . . . everywhere . . . and I appreciate this. Open-air bars with every conceivable type of music emanating from them -- country, blues, jazz, classic rock, 80's rock, hip-hop, funk, zydeco. Musicians on the streets, with guitar cases open, playing for tips. Music seems to be a huge part of the New Orleans culture, much more so than here, or MN.
The conference was awright -- the sessions on rhetoric not so good, but the sessions on film and literature were awesome. I'm going to use McCarthy's the road in Lit class. I'd like to contact the presenter and see if I can have a copy of his paper to post for students to read. It was interesting, although I'm still not sure of the Social Contract connection, because it seems like in McCarthy's book, the contract has been thrown away; it's useless, although the boy and father make a contract with each other, I guess.
I'm tired. Got home at 3:30am. Not much sleep.
I'm out.
Labels: New Orleans FW
