For trouble Who has to Grade Papers
Oh ouch. I only had to grade chemistry homework and not read papers and that was painful. So I share my pain with yoooooou. In hopes it is amusing/diverting:
Seriously y'all I can deal with barely-legible handwriting. I grew up deciphering my grandmother's writing and few write with such little regard for writing as a mode of communication with other people as she; the folk in first-year chemistry (all ninety-some of them) were no competition. One-word answers where more words were needed? Okay fine partial credit next. But the student I wanted to track down and explain things to with knives and hooks was the one who had very nice perfectly legible handwriting and showed all ou work. ALL OF IT. EVERY. TIME. Wrote a paragraph for every true/false answer. Whenever I got to ou homework in a stack my soul died a little.
I had my vengeance upon them. I'd mark up their spelling and grammar mistakes. Since it was Chem 101 and not a writing course I didn't take points off but some of them got back their homework with a whole lot of red ink. They complained to the professor I was grading homework for. I explained to the professor all wide-eyed and butter-would-not-melt (she knew exactly what I was up to -- amusing myself -- being my advisor and all) this was university and these skills would be required in other classes and after all I wasn't taking points off. She told them to suck it up and me to lay off a little. We reached a déetente.
My younger brother was amongst the ninety-some first-year chemistry students I was grading homework for. I had the highly dubious pleasure of getting to inform him at mid-term he was failing the course and he needed to do other than as he was if he wished to pass by term's end. I got to tell a lot of students that. (The chemists* were somewhat bemused; we expected organic chemistry to be the weed-out course. First-year general chemistry was meant to be accessible enough that students not majoring in science technology engineering maths could use it as a distribution credit for graduation.)
So that sucked. Telling people they were failing, I mean. Especially having to tell my brother. But teaching was wonderful -- the chemistry department made up jobs for me and one was spending time in a library classroom where anyone who wanted tutoring extra help whatever could drop by no appointment or schedule needed. I thought the format was annoying at first: I thought I'd be tutoring one student at a time. It turned out to be amazing for me and helpful for the students. I did a lot of teaching them how to use textbooks and indices. No one had ever taught them how they worked. And that broke my heart. I got pretty good at figuring out where a student's difficulty with a concept started (by asking leading questions) and how to build from there to the specific question they'd first asked. I had one student who had kids my age and was in school because she was driven; she needed it. And everything she learned new was a wonder for her. I loved her so much. Not like romantically or sexually but I loved what she was doing and how she was doing it and how much joy she took in it. (If she'd been interested in me romantically or sexually I doubt I would have been at all averse to the idea.)
Sure I had a lot of people who came by wanting the answers to the homework but they figured out quick they weren't going to get that. Most of them came back and with different questions.
It's one of the better things I've done. Writing about it has me aching and sniffly. Seems I miss it. Teaching in an actual classroom setting would be difficult with the various conditions -- the fibromyalgia wouldn't let me stand; it would make writing on chalk and/or white boards difficult. The neurological and mental stuff makes speaking a problem and looking at people a problem and planning (like lesson plans and lecture notes and exams and whatall) very much a problem. But I do still love sharing what's in my head.
Which I suppose explains why I'm here on these internets and why I write about stuff that might get into oversharing territory. It's a way I can share what's in my head on my terms. It means I don't get paid for it but it means nobody gets to tell me I'm doing it wrong.
* At the time I included myself a chemist also; today I am not a chemist nor any kind of scientist. I am a writer. I might be a writer who has a bunch of science in xer head though xe does not actually do any science or keep up with any topics in a serious way. Science is a job a vocation a career. It's something a person does. I studied science and while I did I was a scientist -- studies are work. So. I am not a scientist.
Aperiodically Legible: Originally posted at http://kaninchen.dreamwidth.org/2956.html. Comment count:
Seriously y'all I can deal with barely-legible handwriting. I grew up deciphering my grandmother's writing and few write with such little regard for writing as a mode of communication with other people as she; the folk in first-year chemistry (all ninety-some of them) were no competition. One-word answers where more words were needed? Okay fine partial credit next. But the student I wanted to track down and explain things to with knives and hooks was the one who had very nice perfectly legible handwriting and showed all ou work. ALL OF IT. EVERY. TIME. Wrote a paragraph for every true/false answer. Whenever I got to ou homework in a stack my soul died a little.
I had my vengeance upon them. I'd mark up their spelling and grammar mistakes. Since it was Chem 101 and not a writing course I didn't take points off but some of them got back their homework with a whole lot of red ink. They complained to the professor I was grading homework for. I explained to the professor all wide-eyed and butter-would-not-melt (she knew exactly what I was up to -- amusing myself -- being my advisor and all) this was university and these skills would be required in other classes and after all I wasn't taking points off. She told them to suck it up and me to lay off a little. We reached a déetente.
My younger brother was amongst the ninety-some first-year chemistry students I was grading homework for. I had the highly dubious pleasure of getting to inform him at mid-term he was failing the course and he needed to do other than as he was if he wished to pass by term's end. I got to tell a lot of students that. (The chemists* were somewhat bemused; we expected organic chemistry to be the weed-out course. First-year general chemistry was meant to be accessible enough that students not majoring in science technology engineering maths could use it as a distribution credit for graduation.)
So that sucked. Telling people they were failing, I mean. Especially having to tell my brother. But teaching was wonderful -- the chemistry department made up jobs for me and one was spending time in a library classroom where anyone who wanted tutoring extra help whatever could drop by no appointment or schedule needed. I thought the format was annoying at first: I thought I'd be tutoring one student at a time. It turned out to be amazing for me and helpful for the students. I did a lot of teaching them how to use textbooks and indices. No one had ever taught them how they worked. And that broke my heart. I got pretty good at figuring out where a student's difficulty with a concept started (by asking leading questions) and how to build from there to the specific question they'd first asked. I had one student who had kids my age and was in school because she was driven; she needed it. And everything she learned new was a wonder for her. I loved her so much. Not like romantically or sexually but I loved what she was doing and how she was doing it and how much joy she took in it. (If she'd been interested in me romantically or sexually I doubt I would have been at all averse to the idea.)
Sure I had a lot of people who came by wanting the answers to the homework but they figured out quick they weren't going to get that. Most of them came back and with different questions.
It's one of the better things I've done. Writing about it has me aching and sniffly. Seems I miss it. Teaching in an actual classroom setting would be difficult with the various conditions -- the fibromyalgia wouldn't let me stand; it would make writing on chalk and/or white boards difficult. The neurological and mental stuff makes speaking a problem and looking at people a problem and planning (like lesson plans and lecture notes and exams and whatall) very much a problem. But I do still love sharing what's in my head.
Which I suppose explains why I'm here on these internets and why I write about stuff that might get into oversharing territory. It's a way I can share what's in my head on my terms. It means I don't get paid for it but it means nobody gets to tell me I'm doing it wrong.
* At the time I included myself a chemist also; today I am not a chemist nor any kind of scientist. I am a writer. I might be a writer who has a bunch of science in xer head though xe does not actually do any science or keep up with any topics in a serious way. Science is a job a vocation a career. It's something a person does. I studied science and while I did I was a scientist -- studies are work. So. I am not a scientist.
Aperiodically Legible: Originally posted at http://kaninchen.dreamwidth.org/2956.html. Comment count: