argh
the worst part of our jobs:
when a student fails. Or nearly fails.
Particularly if they come to you for help, and ... in all fairness, you really can't do anything. When they are bright and have missed checkpoint after checkpoint, and there are no excuses for it. When you've urged them in class to please, hazard a guess at the quiz, which is 5% of their grade, and they say, "nah. I don't know." When they end up with a D/D- and they should've had an easy A.
We had this discussion today. The only way, I said - the only way I could possibly maybe give a student a C- would be if, in the next 10 days, they researched and wrote a stunning, 20 page research paper, for which I would require no fewer than 20 bibliographic sources - articles and book chapters, no internet citations.
It was an impossible task. And the student (and the professor) acknowledged it. As did I. Because nothing short of achieving the impossible - a sophomore churning out graduate level work in 10 days - could justify the injustice of such an incredible amount of extra credit (particularly as the student did not deign to actually take advantage of extra credit assignments offered during the quarter).
It hurts, but the professor agreed afterward that it was the right thing, and that my argument about fairness to classmates, who weren't as bright but had struggled very hard throughout the quarter and would still only get C's, was the compelling one.
That's the thing about teaching, and I think not all students realize this, but when you fail, we fail. Even if we did everything we could to help you succeed, you always feel like you've failed: that you've failed them, and that you've failed as a teacher in general somehow.
Oh, don't worry. I'm not in completely depressed, but I am saddened, and it aches to tell a student, "no." I'm always so, so sorry when I have to.
Anyways. Off I go - I've many plays to read!