More on Teaching, cellphones and students

I've just come out of a tiring, tiring* teaching session.

Teaching, as I've been telling Allison and another friend, is the one thing I've enjoyed and loved about Large Cornfield School. The students are usually on top of their game, they don't hesitate to put in work for their grades and come to class at least 40% prepared**. They make me want to keep teaching and to keep teaching writing courses.

Today however, I walked out of class feeling like it was an unmitigated disaster.
My students kept yawning and one even fell asleep only waking up intermittently to check his phone. (One of the first things I tell my students is that my only real strict rule is "No Using Cellphones/Ipods/Other Fancy Devices In Class". "It is a pet peeve", I tell my them on the first day, "It derails my thought and bothers me to see cellphones or fancy electronic gadgets being fiddled with in my classroom.") Upon being called out, of course, he mouthed "I am not using my phone" to his buddy. This behavior bothers me. Yeah, I know it is just one student and just one class. And it might never happen again.
But, it bothers me to call a student out. And what's buggering me right now is that I might now have to deal with resistance and general button-pushing from said student.
And this is a scenario that I'd much rather avoid.

Bleh. Now onto 100 pages of reading in an hour.


*And not the good kind of tiring where you give thanks for a few minutes of meager fulfillment in hours of slave labor being a Freshman Composition TA.
**To an English Composition class, 40% prepared is awesomesauce in my book.

More passing thoughts about Teaching

On some days, school is bloody fulfilling*.
And that mostly has to do with being in a Rhetoric and Composition  session where my mentor is a fantastic, enthusiastic human being, full of contagious passion for his work. Our discussion over the last couple of weeks in that class has made me think about the way "gut feelings" work in my own teaching and in my students' work, about my body in the teaching space and today, about teaching Freshman Composition as a (somewhat) non-native speaker of the language.

Like several of my friends, I grew up speaking English both at home and outside**. I do speak a couple of other languages, but it is English to which I turn for ease of expression. I read mostly in English. I think and dream in English. I can't write essays, or poems (however terrible), or make involved arguments in the other languages I know and speak. But, I also often turn to these languages for words where my English comes up short. In other words, I'm not the subject at the heart of ESL language acquisition and usage discussions.

And yet, sometimes, in my composition classroom, I become hyper-aware of the chasm between my experience with language and writing and that of my students. In the last three years, I've had a few international students, ESL speakers or (students like me)*** And each time that I feel like I understand their challenges with a particular piece of writing, I go back to the question of my own identity as a (non-native speaking) teacher of comp.

Uh... just so we're clear, I'm not suggesting that my students actively do something to create this effect. I just find it fascinating that being able to empathize with my international students' questions and challenges brings up all these questions for me.

And there really isn't all that much on Comp-Teachers-Like-Me out there - another thing I want to add to my Jack of All Trades basket.

*And no, I don't quite mean Viking invasion
**Yes, privilege, privilege.
***There has to be a word for this - why do I not know it?

Instinct, gut feelings and My Classroom

My classroom is an intimate space. A very
And this, (eureka!) explains why every time someone observes my class, I feel like a dancing flea under under a fresnel lens - tiny,  exquisite, improbable. This year, my observer is a kind, wonderful, positive, encouraging soul. His amazingity notwithstanding, I feel a silent, invisible pressure.

And what do I do to combat this pressure? I give in to it.
True story.
My response to this somewhat stressful moment is to buy into the project of observation*. And so, under this stress, I perform (even more self-consciously than usual).

Normally, I work very instinctively while teaching.
I find detailed lesson plans crippling (although I do like to walk into class with a general idea of what I'm going to do, what kind of activities I'm going to have etc.). In the last semester at Big Name Cornfield School, I've learned (whoppee!) that I can actually organize some of the things that I think of as "instinctive" (i.e. because, as my freshman comp students are wont to say, "it just feels right").

I'm a little nervous about how this is actually going to go down. Well, we'll know after Monday, no?

*Okay, I admit, this is my cynical definition of the project of observation. 

An Odd, Odd day

I'm having one of the oddest days that I have had in a long, long time.
(And not in a ooh-look-chocolate-people kind of way.)

Today has been full of dropping hot coffee, knocking over a glass of hot water, headaches, losing my wallet, and running out of gas, bad feedback on thesis work, and dealing with drunk students (okay, a drunk student, but several terribly prepared ones).

But oddly enough, it has also been a day of finding much affection and random acts of ordinary kindness: like free coffee (a friend was buying me coffee and when the barista heard of my wallet loss, he was kind enough to make me a free drink and threw in a pastry) and the timely rescue by another friend who lent me money to buy gas to get home (thanks, Miz Z.). Eventually, I also found my wallet (by far the most unexpected of today's weirdnesses). Anywho, I'm incredibly grateful for all of this.

Sure, I still have to deal with the unexpectedly bad feedback about my own work.
And with that whole issue of the passive-aggressive, v. entitled and mildly drunk freshman.
But, for the moment, I'm sending out a great whopping thanks for some very reasonably-sized mercies.

In which we talk about Outsourced, Race, Culture and Asians

Pavani on Sepia Mutiny brought up the NBC sitcom, Outsourced asking (among other things) if Lizardi's article changed your mind about the show.


And what with the recent obnoxiousnesses about Asians, I've been thinking about my answer to this question.


First, a disclaimer. I haven't watched Outsourced since the first few (five, maybe six) episodes. Everything I say here is based only on these few episodes.


At the time, I remember thinking it was vastly better than the eponymous film* but the jokes, the style, the plying of the Indian stereotype were way too vaudevillian (I was going to bring up a comparison to Shahrukh Khan's terrible, terrible minstrel-show-portrayal of African-Americans but that's a post for a different day.)**


I can't bring myself to return to the show (although it is somewhat funny, I guess) - because I don't find it funny. And no, Lizardi's article did not change my mind. At All.


Although I buy into her justification of needing to use "character types" to derive humor, I find this whole race-bashing-in-the-disguise-of-humor very, um, unappealing. Even if there are five South Asian characters on the show telling stories that often come straight from (their) personal experiences (LAT). 


And as for the speculation that "perhaps they (non-fans of the show) don't believe (South Asians) should make fun of themselves" - well, I'm South Asian, I've worked in an offshore set up and I don't think I'm fairly capable of making fun of myself***. Why then am I so uncomfortable with the show?


I'm going with the reasoning of the wise and wonderful a.b. with whom I had this conversation earlier today. The show presents the white American male as the norm and the South Asians, inevitably, as The Other - different, ridiculous, funny. Given that Tandon Lizardi is American, and that the show is an American show, this is inevitable - I get that.


(And I'm actually not that angry with this show.)
But it is this Othering that bothers the bludgeons out of me.


I feel like I've said this a gazillion times before: I don't want to be seen as a cultural stereotype, an educational experience, an oddity, an Other. (And with my brown skin, I have enough trouble fending this off, thank you very much.) I don't need a show like Outsourced adding to, what Lizardi "consider(s) to be Indian stereotypes: doctors, engineers, spelling bee champs, Kwik-E-Mart owners".


And I haven't watched the show recently, but going by Lizardi's article, why is she saying "the characters in "Outsourced" care about each other and learn from one another"? 


(Daisy, I know you watch and like the show. So I'm hoping you're reading this and will answer these questions)


Okay, more specifically, why does she follow it up with examples of Todd rescuing  positively influencing Indian people who are bound by culture tighter than Kate Winslet's corset in the Titanic? Besides learning about fabricated, exaggerated, grotesquely simplified Indian Culture, what exactly is Todd learning from the other characters?


In a recent class conversation with M. Butterfly****, one of my better students referred to the entire phenomenon of outsourcing as "those jobs being given off to those people". And the rhetoric itself is not problematic, it is the reasoning behind the rhetoric, the unsaid ("given", "those") Othering that makes me anxious. I'm worried, I guess, that the show has the potential to undermine all our class-conversations about race and culture and David Henry Hwang in subtle, insidious ways. 


That said, meaning is always a process of negotiation. (The Indian student in my class, for instance, does not find the show offensive in any way.) And maybe the lady worrieth too much. 


*Shrug*. I'm with Tandon Lizardi's notion that there is the possibility of a more cohesive diversity. I just don't think exaggerating random, stereotypical "quirks" is the way to it. 


* Really Ayesha Dharker, I want to know what made you accept the role.
** Admittedly, Shah Rukh Khan's incredible ignorance and crassness makes me throw up. It is, in so many ways, MUCH worse. Maybe Shahrukh Khan can write for Outsourced?
*** The sibling will agree that I'm no longer that person, yeah?
**** Which my students are handling brilliantly!


Footnote: Another reaction to the UCLA video

Day 22: Trailing. Poetry. Sleep, or the lack thereof.

First, thank you Witch and Other Witch - for helping rein in the crazy. For now, at least.

Then, A.b.'s new post also helped some - because it took me back to thinking about prioritizing - about asking "What do I want to do more than other things?" as a way of answer "Why am I doing this?" (in terms of trailing, I mean).

So, again - Thanks you folks. Y'all are the awesomest women I know.

***
In my classes, I've been trying to teach poetry.
It is traditionally one of the units that comes up against a truckload of resistance.
(Although, this semester, one of my classes is responding much better - much more openly, at least - than the other.)

How does one teach poetry?
Most of my students seem to arrive at poetry with some kind of a bias. The most commonly used adjective to describe poetry in my classes "boring", followed by "confusing", followed by undisguised, unabashed yawning.
Although I can see (and understand) the source of these reactions, I'm saddened when my students see right through this poem by Miller Williams:

Listen 014
I threw a snowball across the backyard.
My dog ran after it to bring it back.
It broke as it fell, scattering snow over snow.
She stood confused, seeing and smelling nothing.
She searched in widening circles until I called her.
She looked at me and said as clearly in silence as if she had spoken, I know it's here, I'll find it, went back to the center and started the circles again.
I called her two more times before she cameslowly, stopping once to look back.
That was this morning.
I'm sure that she's forgotten.
I've had some trouble putting it out of my mind.

So, I've decided to use the idea of "poetry as a story in action".
We shall start by talking about tone and persona in poetry.
Tomorrow, they shall hear Pete Seeger's "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy"

And I'm hoping that this will spark a connection back to "The Things They Carried".
(Ooh! I just thought of the magnificent conversation around 'Nam that we could have if the class engages.)

I've racked my brains and other than showing music videos (as an extension of poetry), can't think of anything else to get them to engage with the poems. Twitter poetry maybe? Or maybe I could sing alound in front for my classes? No, wait, I'm trying to teach, not traumatize. Teach, not traumatize. That is my noble motto.

So yeah, seriously, how would you do this? How would you introduce poetry in a class? How can you make reluctant freshman engage with the content (or form, even) of a poem?

How?

I'm listening.

***
And on a final note: Trauma.
I can't sleep well anymore. Between my own little crazy and waiting to hear from grad schools, my brain has turned into a sheet of bubble-wrap, being very slowly and deliberately, yet irregularly popped every few minutes.

How is it possible that five of seven schools have sent out some mailers to folks, but not one of these schools has contacted me (with *some*, any news)?
Sighs.
Waiting is the hardest part.
***

On a different note (F sharp, this time) - we're almost through 28 days!
6 days to go, actually. Whee?

Semester, Semester

On a significantly less dramatic note, I'm quite excited about this upcoming semester.

I get to dread admissions decisions (who can't claim that's fun, eh?), get to prepare for comprehensives, face the dreaded prospect of getting that thesis thing together, complete coursework, get to attend conferences, and, most awesomely, get to teach a literature and writing course. Wheedledidodah!

Mostly, in this moment, I'm cautiously excited about meeting les nouveaux étudiants and about hearing what they have to say about short stories, poems and plays. I confess, sometimes, these kids surprise me (and not by saying "I hate your class but can I get an A", although that has come to pass as well.)

New Reads, new Loves

Have I told you how much I love the students this semester?

They're human to me (yes, this is new), they're real people, with germs and colds, a life, irritations. It is fantastic. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for this to last.



On another note, I love her - she's a much more articulate, much cooler, much more fantastic me.

Now, I'm off (Ogg, Odd) to teach my yung'uns about writing research proposals.
More, soon.

In my classes, twice this week, I've had students ask "Why?"

I love the freedom of this system - the opportunity to question even your teacher's judgement. It is certainly better than gagging as a teacher of English Literature misquotes Shakespeare (Okay, that was probably a little harsh, but, in my defence, I was 19 and didn't know any better.)

But that's a story for another day.

This one is about the specific question, "Why?"

What's that you said? Isn't that the point of the damn thing, an education? To help one think, question, probe?

Sure it is.

But Twice this week, I've been asked: "Why do I have to read this?"

And twice this week I've said - because a University education is supposed to broaden your mind. It is supposed to help you be analytical. This class is supposed to help you write better. And to write better, don't you have to think better?

I'm glad that my students are thinking about the connections.

And I'm disappointed that the connections are not more obvious.

I'm, what's the word now, appalled? stunned? ...un-impressed, perhaps, by the average freshman's attitude to professors, teachers and more importantly, to acquiring knowledge. On the whole, I get the impression that they're just. not. interested.

Okay, granted, it is an English Composition class.
But effort has been made all around to make sure that the class is not about "poetry". The aim of the class is to teach critical reading and writing skills. How can it be hard to see how the class would be useful across the curriculum?

I do realize that this is very traditional of me, but I've come to expect respect in a classroom situation. Now, now... not for me - not even if I'm older (and wiser, ha ha). I concede that I don't know enough - but respect for the work that these kids are (supposed to be) doing. Turns out that kind of attitude is obsolete. Oh joy!

I stay up nights planning out class work, syllabii, grading papers and most recently teaching myself to be less "formal" in my approach to the class. The very least I thought I could expect was attention. Apparently not. Scarce commodity around these parts.

Oh there is one thing that is available in abundance though - cockiness.
This week, I've had the dubious pleasure of hearing, "Yeah, I tend be very profound and look beyond the text" in response to "Good job on picking up on that point" ; "She's so ridiculous" to an exercise and "What do we have to do to write a summary", after two weeks of classes on the topic.

I even had one kid tell me that English was not his thing. In English. American kid. Very telling, isn't it?.

Okay, yeah, I wasn't a perfect under-grad. Far from it, really. I almost always turned work in at the last minute. I did have "opinions" (like all hot-blooded 18 year olds). I was such a piece of work! I'm sure I wasn't a pleasure to be around. But I don't remember saying anything like that to a teacher. Or saying "I don't want to" when called upon to participate in class.

The whole "So what if you're my teacher, I can be where you are" (extending even to "Oh so you have a Phd. in the subject you're teaching me. Big deal. I can do that too, if I want to.") doesn't fly with me. But turns out that for my sanity and my job I should follow my professors. I'm going to have to suck it up and desist from saying, "Yes, you idiot, you can, but you haven't and the way things are going, doesn't look like you're about to".

Ah bon! C'est (apparently) la vie!