Grad School Report - Spring 2008 (Week 4)
[Written at] 5:22 pm: I should probably be doing some reading for class. If not finishing A Monk's Confession: The Memoirs of Guibert of Nogent, then at least reading back through parts of Absalom, Absalom! Or even starting The Fortress of Solitude to get some of it under my belt, as I do plan to read it a third time for this class, but instead I am sitting here in the Brooklyn College library, reading over the two dozen comments brownengmuffin left on my last two months of posts all at once and now writing this.
Monday there was no class. Lincoln's birthday ("Happy Birthday, Abey Baby, Happy Birthday to you! Bang! Bang? Bang? Shit! I ain't dying for no white man!). I spent the day finishing the stack of papers I had to grade for the class I TA.
Now lemme tell ya, grading papers is a lot harder than anyone ever told me it would be. I didn't think I would find much difference between the practice papers I graded in Teaching College Composition class, and the actual papers - but I guess when what you are correcting/commenting actually has an influence on someone's grade and someone's potential improvement as a writer and a student, there is a little more pressure. I tried my best to write facilitative comments. Questions about what was written that might lead a student to re-examine what and how she wrote, and perhaps lead them to a new understanding of what they were writing about. As I said in my last report, the class got to choose their own poem to write about, and out of the twenty-odd students, I only got thirteen papers to grade. Four were on "The Rain-Streaked Avenues of Central Queens". One was on "The Problem with Haiku"; another on "the Beam," and finally the majority were on a poem entitled, "She Considers the Dimensions of Her Soul" (which I mentioned last time).
All of the papers were examples of struggling writers who do not seem to have much practice at doing close readings of poems. I tried to remain upbeat and positive; like I said, facilitate understanding and clarity without trying to mold the student papers into some kind of 'ideal text,' which is only ideal because it exists only in the mind of the instructor. Even I cannot write that ideal text, so why should I hold it up as the standard? It is a prejudiced idea, and I do my best to avoid it, even though I still find myself offering word choices. I read each paper through once (dividing them up by poem chosen so I could keep the relevant poem fresh in my mind) before sitting down with the red pen to make the marks on them as I read them a second time.
There was a range of grammatical problems with the papers, but I am no grammarian, and my first concern was how the students organized and expressed their ideas, worrying about grammar only when it was truly an obstacle to understanding. I am not saying I did not make any corrections of that sort, I just did not pick them to death because I don't want the students to be overwhelmed, and because I know better than to think that my red marks are going to somehow miraculously teach them grammar. The truth of the matter is they will read over the comments (if that), look at the grade, and then put the paper away and never look at it again. Better to concentrate on two or three things that really need work, and to also try to point out what does work in paper. I was a little concerned that my approach was not going to be agreeable to the professor, as he made a point of telling me to mark "everything," but when I discussed it with him today, he said I did a very good job and that my concluding comments were particularly good. He did say I did miss a few grammar issues/typos, but that even he misses a few sometimes and that he marked them himself as he went over it. "You did as I would have, so as far as I'm concerned, you did it perfectly," he said. I included a post-it note on each paper with my recommended grade, and he said that for the most part he agreed with my recommendation and only once or twice tweaked it by a 'plus' or 'minus' in one direction or another. The most common grade I gave out was 'C' or 'C-'. I wasn't trying to be harsh. Hell, I was trying to be generous! I gave out one 'D' and one 'D+' and only two Bs. I only got to see one paper after they were handed back and the professor had turned my 'B-' into a 'B+'. This was the paper belonging to the student that came to my office hours last week. He came again today to go over this most recent paper, and I have to admit I was a little proud of him taking his work seriously enough to want to go over how to improve his 'B+' paper. Most students seem to see 'B+' as "more than good enough." I know that when I was an undergrad, a 'B+' might not have made me happy, but it would not have made me seek any help to improve it either.
[Written at] 9:46 PM: I left the library for Lopalia LoBats class, and as usual it was great. It flew by as we continued to attack the text, taking time to examine how the map, the timeline and genealogy in the back of Absalom, Absalom!, further destabilizes the text, instead of securing the knowledge the text gives us in obscured morsels - which you would think such "documents" would authenticate. It is a good little group we have of very smart people with a great professor to lead us through it (even if she still hasn't given back my final paper from last semester despite emailing her a reminder - "This time I didn't forget, I just couldn't find it," she said. "I know it is in a stack. I need to better organize my academic papers." - This penchant (if penchant it is) is of some concern to me, because she's my thesis advisor, but I worry if her lack of organization and occasional difficulty in getting her to return emails is going to hinder my effort - oh well, at least I can work around what I am aware of).
Anyway, one of my classmates brought up a similarity between Charles Bon from the Faulkner and Mingus Rude from The Fortress of Solitude (having read ahead for next week) and it turned a light on in my head that makes me eager to tackle the Lethem again. It was such an astute observation that I and the other two people in the class who have read and studied Solitude before were speechless in contemplation of it. Another woman in the class, went on to talk about how she found the "thesis" or main point of Absalom, Absalom! to be on the page six of the text:
"[W]hy God let [the South] lose the War: that only through the blood of our men and the tears of our women could He stay this demon and efface his name and lineage from the earth."
But while I think that is definitely a strong element of the novel (I mean, I called it an indictment of the South in my own response paper), I am not so interested in trying to find "main points" in texts. Rather, I want to dig through them, break them open, fertilize the seeds I discover and have the questions bloom. I want to problematize texts. I want to destabilize them.
Allow me to jump back in time (is it my scattered mind or the reading of Faulkner that has made me leap around so much in my recent grad school reports?) and mention that we watched the second half of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman in the class I am TAing, and as I said, I have not read/seen it since high school. I really want to hear what the class has to say about it, and would love a chance to lead the class in that discussion (perhaps I should ask the prof about that possibility). It really struck me as a critique of capitalism, and as speaking with a voice that echoes things I am often thinking/saying, however, it is not without its own problematic aspects. I mean, Bernard as brainy teen-ager diligent to his studies and later as successful lawyer presents an arc that undermines Biff's realization about the American dream, flattening the drama to something akin to an after-school special about the consequences of relying on the hope of an athletic scholarship to the high school, serving as warning English classes that read it. Also, there is a strong implication that Willie Loman is untrustworthy. He believes his own bullshit. I mean, he's a salesman (is there a lower form of life?), there's no reason to believe he was as hard a worker for the company as he claims, or that he was ever very successful as a salesman. He's pitiable, but not likeable. And while hard work doesn't guarantee anybody anything, floating around making a buck here and there on your smile doesn't guarantee much either. If anything, it makes me think that he was always as deluded and always as volatile, and likely just the kind of douchebag that lets his kids steal and expects something for nothing. Hey, I want something for nothing, too. I just don't expect it.
Tuesday was my Brief History of the Lyric class, which I really don't have that much to say about. We did an in-class writing assignment for twenty minutes comparing a translation of Li Po to a poem on the same theme (parting with a friend) by Gary Synder. I wrote about the use of nature in both poems. How Li Po's moment of parting coalesces and then fades like the cloud mentioned in the poem, while Synder's has describes something more like the cycle of a visit to the mountain cabin where he is living; a friend coming, staying and going. I need to start paying more attention to meter and rhythm, I am not so good at identifying that stuff, my brain gets buried in the words, and I sublimate the rhythms. I mean, I can read a poem and not identify it as a sonnet (unless it is a sonnet I already know), but if someone says, "that's a sonnet" I recognize it as such. I know what makes it a sonnet; it is just that my brain does not go there. I know what villanelles are, I just don't ever think of them unless they're pointed out, like taxes.
We also talked for a good twenty minutes about one of my favorite poems…
Western wind, when will thou blow,
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
…and I could have happily unpacked it some more. I love that 'Christ'! I know, I add the exclamation point, but it feels natural, whether it be a curse or a cry to the savior, there is passion in it.
Next week is my first full week since the semester started. I have a lot to do and a free and clear weekend to do it in.
Monday there was no class. Lincoln's birthday ("Happy Birthday, Abey Baby, Happy Birthday to you! Bang! Bang? Bang? Shit! I ain't dying for no white man!). I spent the day finishing the stack of papers I had to grade for the class I TA.
Now lemme tell ya, grading papers is a lot harder than anyone ever told me it would be. I didn't think I would find much difference between the practice papers I graded in Teaching College Composition class, and the actual papers - but I guess when what you are correcting/commenting actually has an influence on someone's grade and someone's potential improvement as a writer and a student, there is a little more pressure. I tried my best to write facilitative comments. Questions about what was written that might lead a student to re-examine what and how she wrote, and perhaps lead them to a new understanding of what they were writing about. As I said in my last report, the class got to choose their own poem to write about, and out of the twenty-odd students, I only got thirteen papers to grade. Four were on "The Rain-Streaked Avenues of Central Queens". One was on "The Problem with Haiku"; another on "the Beam," and finally the majority were on a poem entitled, "She Considers the Dimensions of Her Soul" (which I mentioned last time).
All of the papers were examples of struggling writers who do not seem to have much practice at doing close readings of poems. I tried to remain upbeat and positive; like I said, facilitate understanding and clarity without trying to mold the student papers into some kind of 'ideal text,' which is only ideal because it exists only in the mind of the instructor. Even I cannot write that ideal text, so why should I hold it up as the standard? It is a prejudiced idea, and I do my best to avoid it, even though I still find myself offering word choices. I read each paper through once (dividing them up by poem chosen so I could keep the relevant poem fresh in my mind) before sitting down with the red pen to make the marks on them as I read them a second time.
There was a range of grammatical problems with the papers, but I am no grammarian, and my first concern was how the students organized and expressed their ideas, worrying about grammar only when it was truly an obstacle to understanding. I am not saying I did not make any corrections of that sort, I just did not pick them to death because I don't want the students to be overwhelmed, and because I know better than to think that my red marks are going to somehow miraculously teach them grammar. The truth of the matter is they will read over the comments (if that), look at the grade, and then put the paper away and never look at it again. Better to concentrate on two or three things that really need work, and to also try to point out what does work in paper. I was a little concerned that my approach was not going to be agreeable to the professor, as he made a point of telling me to mark "everything," but when I discussed it with him today, he said I did a very good job and that my concluding comments were particularly good. He did say I did miss a few grammar issues/typos, but that even he misses a few sometimes and that he marked them himself as he went over it. "You did as I would have, so as far as I'm concerned, you did it perfectly," he said. I included a post-it note on each paper with my recommended grade, and he said that for the most part he agreed with my recommendation and only once or twice tweaked it by a 'plus' or 'minus' in one direction or another. The most common grade I gave out was 'C' or 'C-'. I wasn't trying to be harsh. Hell, I was trying to be generous! I gave out one 'D' and one 'D+' and only two Bs. I only got to see one paper after they were handed back and the professor had turned my 'B-' into a 'B+'. This was the paper belonging to the student that came to my office hours last week. He came again today to go over this most recent paper, and I have to admit I was a little proud of him taking his work seriously enough to want to go over how to improve his 'B+' paper. Most students seem to see 'B+' as "more than good enough." I know that when I was an undergrad, a 'B+' might not have made me happy, but it would not have made me seek any help to improve it either.
[Written at] 9:46 PM: I left the library for Lopalia LoBats class, and as usual it was great. It flew by as we continued to attack the text, taking time to examine how the map, the timeline and genealogy in the back of Absalom, Absalom!, further destabilizes the text, instead of securing the knowledge the text gives us in obscured morsels - which you would think such "documents" would authenticate. It is a good little group we have of very smart people with a great professor to lead us through it (even if she still hasn't given back my final paper from last semester despite emailing her a reminder - "This time I didn't forget, I just couldn't find it," she said. "I know it is in a stack. I need to better organize my academic papers." - This penchant (if penchant it is) is of some concern to me, because she's my thesis advisor, but I worry if her lack of organization and occasional difficulty in getting her to return emails is going to hinder my effort - oh well, at least I can work around what I am aware of).
Anyway, one of my classmates brought up a similarity between Charles Bon from the Faulkner and Mingus Rude from The Fortress of Solitude (having read ahead for next week) and it turned a light on in my head that makes me eager to tackle the Lethem again. It was such an astute observation that I and the other two people in the class who have read and studied Solitude before were speechless in contemplation of it. Another woman in the class, went on to talk about how she found the "thesis" or main point of Absalom, Absalom! to be on the page six of the text:
"[W]hy God let [the South] lose the War: that only through the blood of our men and the tears of our women could He stay this demon and efface his name and lineage from the earth."
But while I think that is definitely a strong element of the novel (I mean, I called it an indictment of the South in my own response paper), I am not so interested in trying to find "main points" in texts. Rather, I want to dig through them, break them open, fertilize the seeds I discover and have the questions bloom. I want to problematize texts. I want to destabilize them.
Allow me to jump back in time (is it my scattered mind or the reading of Faulkner that has made me leap around so much in my recent grad school reports?) and mention that we watched the second half of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman in the class I am TAing, and as I said, I have not read/seen it since high school. I really want to hear what the class has to say about it, and would love a chance to lead the class in that discussion (perhaps I should ask the prof about that possibility). It really struck me as a critique of capitalism, and as speaking with a voice that echoes things I am often thinking/saying, however, it is not without its own problematic aspects. I mean, Bernard as brainy teen-ager diligent to his studies and later as successful lawyer presents an arc that undermines Biff's realization about the American dream, flattening the drama to something akin to an after-school special about the consequences of relying on the hope of an athletic scholarship to the high school, serving as warning English classes that read it. Also, there is a strong implication that Willie Loman is untrustworthy. He believes his own bullshit. I mean, he's a salesman (is there a lower form of life?), there's no reason to believe he was as hard a worker for the company as he claims, or that he was ever very successful as a salesman. He's pitiable, but not likeable. And while hard work doesn't guarantee anybody anything, floating around making a buck here and there on your smile doesn't guarantee much either. If anything, it makes me think that he was always as deluded and always as volatile, and likely just the kind of douchebag that lets his kids steal and expects something for nothing. Hey, I want something for nothing, too. I just don't expect it.
Tuesday was my Brief History of the Lyric class, which I really don't have that much to say about. We did an in-class writing assignment for twenty minutes comparing a translation of Li Po to a poem on the same theme (parting with a friend) by Gary Synder. I wrote about the use of nature in both poems. How Li Po's moment of parting coalesces and then fades like the cloud mentioned in the poem, while Synder's has describes something more like the cycle of a visit to the mountain cabin where he is living; a friend coming, staying and going. I need to start paying more attention to meter and rhythm, I am not so good at identifying that stuff, my brain gets buried in the words, and I sublimate the rhythms. I mean, I can read a poem and not identify it as a sonnet (unless it is a sonnet I already know), but if someone says, "that's a sonnet" I recognize it as such. I know what makes it a sonnet; it is just that my brain does not go there. I know what villanelles are, I just don't ever think of them unless they're pointed out, like taxes.
We also talked for a good twenty minutes about one of my favorite poems…
Western wind, when will thou blow,
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
…and I could have happily unpacked it some more. I love that 'Christ'! I know, I add the exclamation point, but it feels natural, whether it be a curse or a cry to the savior, there is passion in it.
Next week is my first full week since the semester started. I have a lot to do and a free and clear weekend to do it in.