The other shoe...

And here we are again, at the dawn of a new semester.

Okay, so maybe not new. But with a few weeks under my belt, I've been able to get the lay of the land, and for once in a great while, the view ain't all that bad.

For those of you who've been following this blog for a while, you know how these "First Post of the Semester" entries usually read. And believe me...for a while I thought of just creating a template--something like the old "Mad Libs" games, where I could write most of the script and fill in the blanks with the small variations that are bound to occur.

This semester I was expecting more of the same. Apathy in the classroom. Dwindling attendance. Visitors as far as the eye can see. And this is part of the reason why I waited several weeks to write this post. Fall semester is a funny beast. It always starts off well, but soon enough, the other shoe drops, and we're back to the same old same old. But this fall, something happened that I didn't expect.

The other shoe has yet to drop.

In my classes, attendance--at week four--is still up. Assignments are being completed on time. There have been no mad texters, or drooling snorers, nor have I had to boot any students out of the classroom for cause. Hell, they're still laughing at my jokes, although I have yet to decide whether this is a good or bad thing. But for better or worse, at this point in the semester, they're still around and they're still interested.

I'll take it. Gods know I'm due.

This is not to say that everything's perfect. I still have students that can barely spell their own names. Most of the emails I receive still read like text messages. But as Forrest told us, stupid is as stupid does, and that part won't be going away anytime soon. But this semester--for now, at least--I'm pretty happy with my box of chocolates.

But don't worry, gentle readers. Midterms are coming, and I'm sure reality will hit soon enough. For now, however, I'm not looking this particular gift horse in the mouth.

That's "Entertainment"...

I received an email from a dear friend this morning. Knowing I was administering my last final today, he wished me well, stating that he hoped the final I was giving would be successful...or would, at least, be entertaining to him.


Well, my friend, this one's for you.


So for the last two weeks of class, I announced the date, time and location of the final exam, for all of  my sections. That I repeated myself at the start of every class actually became something of a joke in most of the sections. And to be honest, these were NOT the people I needed to remind ad nauseum of where and when they needed to be ready to roll for the exam.


The reason for my slightly anal-retentive concern was twofold. First, for at least two of the classes, the scheduled exam time was an hour earlier than our normal class meeting time. Were it up to me, this would not be the case, but I, like others, am at the mercy of the University when it comes to exam schedules. And second, this is not my first time at this particular rodeo. Someone ALWAYS comes late. But I decided that this was going to be the year. The year that everyone followed directions. The year that no one showed up as I was turning off the lights with a sob story and a desperate look in their eyes.


I'm still waiting for that pony, by the way.


In order to make this dream a reality, I tried to cover all the bases. In addition to the daily reminders, I also posted announcements on the course website. The date and time were in bold red letters, screaming out from the page every time a student bothered to log in. And if that wasn't enough, a copy of the announcement was sent to all students in the course via email.


Now I KNOW the Visitors are handy with the email. I refer you to my earlier blog entry for proof.


Until today, I was optimistic. Besides the normal cavalcade of creative excuses (see my LAST entry), no one had showed up late. In fact, things started off smooth today, and I actually remember thinking how nice it was going to be to disappoint my friend.
Maybe that was my problem. After all, pride goeth before the fall, and karma is a spiteful bitch.


The exam period runs for an hour and a half. Given the structure of the exam, most students finish in well under half that time. Even those who diligently check and recheck their answers, and those who sit in a puddle of sweat praying for some sort of divine educational intervention tend to clear out within an hour. Today, with 25 minutes to go, there was one of each left in the room.


Trusting that these two were wrapped up in their exams, I stepped out briefly to use the restroom. As I left, I noticed two students I recognized from the class waiting quietly in the hall. They politely said hello (but nothing else at that time) as I passed. I figured that they were waiting on one of the stragglers.


I was wrong.


When they were still there after I returned, I asked if there was anything else I could do for them. They looked at each other, and then just as politely asked if it was too late to take the exam.


In case you were wondering, yes. They were Visitors. In fact, one of them was not only a Visitor, but a Repeater, having failed this class last semester, placing him squarely in the "Should Have Known Better" category. Regardless, I reminded them--sternly, and loudly--that this was precisely why it was important to show up to class once in a while. Without batting an eye, the Repeater looked at me and said that he just assumed the exam would be at the same time as class. And while subtler than a big scarlet "V" on his tee-shirt, this answer told me all I needed to know about the last time he had attended class, checked the internet, or hell, even read his email. At least Visitor #2, while equally clueless, tried to stammer out a coherent excuse before again asking if he could still take the test.


Against my better judgement, I caved. I knew they realized there was still technically time left, and that there were still two students taking the exam. And if past experience has taught me nothing else, even students who are willfully negligent about staying informed can find the initiative to complain to my boss. Covering my bases, I told them that they could still take the final on the condition that when the scheduled time to take the exam was up--a time, mind you, that was only 20 minutes away at this point--I was kicking them out the door.


I set them in the first row and gave them the test materials. As it turns out, I didn't need to worry about kicking them out at the end of the period. I barely had time to turn around before Visitor #2 was handing me his "completed" exam. Repeater was not that far behind. Ironically, they both finished before the last two stragglers in the room.

As Repeater was leaving, I noticed that he had hadn't actually completed the exam. He had the nerve to give me the stinkeye when I asked him to fill in the missing responses.


Now I don't want praise, and I've long since stopped caring about my online reviews. But I don't think common courtesy is too much to ask.


I'd love to provide a clever denouement to this story. Or some heartwarming last minute revelation, as the Visitors realize the error of their ways. But honestly, I'm spent, and looking forward to a few well-deserved months of rest.


However, fear not, gentle readers, because if I've learned anything from the last few years, it's that Visitors are consistent. So M, my dear friend, just know this--as long as I have a job, you'll be entertained...

Marrying Rich...

It's that time of year again, when panic flows freely through the ivory tower and all of its hallowed halls. And as I slog through exam week, I thought it might be nice to look back on the last ten years, to some of the more creative excuses I've heard for why my students needed to reschedule their exams, or reasons why they missed them entirely. So sit back and enjoy the fact that this is NOT your job. Unless this IS your job, in which case I offer my apologies...


Excuse #10. My friends didn't know what time the exam started.
They were probably too busy jumping off that bridge over there. Please don't let me keep you... 

Excuse #9. There's a Yankees game at the same time as the exam. Can I take it tomorrow?
I would have been willing to consider this one if the student hadn't used it for the December finals... 

Excuse #8. There was a final?
Well, not for you...  

Excuse #7. I forgot to study, and didn't want to disappoint you.
Too late. 

Excuse #6. I thought I was failing and it wouldn't matter anyway.
Ironically, this is the first time THIS student got an answer correct all semester... 

Excuse #5. The bar didn't have wi-fi and I couldn't check the website to see when the exam began.
To this student's credit at least they tried to check... 

Excuse #4. I spilled beer on my day planner and couldn't read what I had written down.
Actually from the same student who gave #5 above. If only effort was enough... 

Excuse #3. I got married yesterday and lost track of time.
In that case, I hope you married rich. And if you're wondering who Rich is...you better find him. Quick! 

Excuse #2. I forgot where the classroom was. Can you give me directions?
Sure. It's that building across the street with the big golden arches on the roof. (Don't judge. He's a Visitor. And let's face it...at the rate he's going, he's probably going to end up there eventually. I'm just eliminating the middleman...) 

Excuse #1. I didn't realize I was in this class until three days ago. Can you get me up to speed?
Forgetting what time the exam starts is one thing. I'm even willing to forgive that you don't know how to find the classroom. Forgetting that you're IN a class in the first place? That goes beyond Visitor, and falls into the ever growing category of Things That Are Not My Problem. Cut your losses and try again next year.

Perhaps this clip--a caricature of actual conversations I've had with students--sums it up best. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a quiet corner and weep for the future... 

Be Careful What You Wish For...Revisted!

I administered my midterm exam not too long ago. And as anticipated, the average score was right what I expected (see my previous post for all the gory details). And also as expected, the emails flowed. Most were from Visitors, or Visitor-wannabees. Some were from people who pretend to attend, but usually slide out of the room the first time I turn my back to the class. Was there going to be extra credit? How many points were left? Was there ANYTHING that could be done to save their grade? Even some of the so-called "good" students joined the fray.  


In short? They wanted more opportunities to get points. Begged for them, in some cases, in order to redeem themselves for their overwhelmingly abysmal performance on the exam. While it meant more work for me, I was generally happy to oblige. 


In the week after the exam--which also happened to be the week after Spring Break--I offered a whopping 60 points worth of assignments, which amounted to almost 2/3rd the value of the exam. The points came in the form of a take home quiz, an in-class assignment, and an online assessment. The first and last options were open book, and the in-class work was a gimme. You did it, you got the points, as there were no right or wrong answers. All told, this opportunity for points was the equivalent of a big loping softball. All people needed to do was stand there and catch it.


Lots of points. Nearly free of charge. Exactly the chance the many people needed to counter the horrorshow that was the midterm exam.


In a perfect world, I would have been the hero. Perhaps even the subject of happy drinking songs all over campus. Hell, a simple "Hey, there, Doc...thanks for throwing us a bone" would have sufficed. I would've even accepted the usual sullen non-response I've grown to expect from this particular crop of students. However, as you may have gleaned from reading this blog over the course of the last few bitter years, I live in a world that is far from perfect.


What did I get instead, you ask?


Angry emails. And LOTS of 'em.


Much like the first batch of emails, the authors and tone was remarkably similar. How DARE I assign work after Spring Break? And three assignments? In one week? That's just not fair.  And from those who MISSED the assignments entirely because they didn't check their email or show up for class? Well to them, I was just plain evil.


In retrospect, I should have guessed there'd be a catch. Students begging for more work? That just doesn't happen in a relatively low level class. It turns out my students wanted points, but they didn't want to work for them.


The next day in class, I mentioned in passing that assignment grades had been posted. A general murmur ran through the crowd. I asked if there were any questions, and  a student raised his hand. He then informed me that he didn't appreciate being punished for not coming to class, and that he thought I should give him the points that he had missed.


Now.


It's takes quite a bit to render me speechless. And there are not many instances where I snap in class. But this did the trick quite effectively.


What seems to be escaping them is that I don't give assignments to be vindictive. This is not the Simpsons, and I'm not going to stand you at the board and make you write "I will not be an entitled lazy bastard!" a thousand times. And I certainly don't give assignments because I'm bored and want to fill my evenings by grading papers. I give assignments because deep down, I want you to learn something. I give assignments because they pay me to teach, and you pay to be taught. I give assignments because this is COLLEGE, and that's how we roll.


But most importantly, in this instance, and the one thing they ALL seemed to forget...


I gave them this work...


...because they ASKED for it.


This is exactly what I told my class. Loudly. And for several minutes.


In retrospect, I feel a little bad. After all, the ones who show up aren't the problem. It's the Visitors that don't remember where the classroom is, but sure are handy with the email that were the main target of my wrath. But my point was made, and word got around. Emails are down and attendance is up. Hell, even the Visitors have come out of hibernation.


The moral of this tale? Be careful what you wish for. You just may get it. But don't bitch to me when you do.


I'm sure I'll still be mentioned over a drink or two. And I'm also sure it won't be in song.