Zooze the Horse roams around the pasture near Lamar State College. Zooze thinks about problems in academia. Zhe wants proffies to submit posts (blog posts, not fence posts).
Ditto. While I can't stand what's happening currently at my joint, I am incredibly fortunate and I try to be appropriately grateful. I'd like to be graceful, too, but that comes less easily...
Mostly. I'm reasonably good at it, which makes it satisfying (most of the time), and I'm not sure quite what else I'd do (assuming the need to earn a living; I have plenty of ideas of what to do if money were not an issue).
Most of my students are both intelligent, hard-working, well-intentioned, reasonable, and kind, which helps, and the same can be said for most of my colleagues, and even a good many administrators (though my potential for feeling aggrieved definitely increases with distance).
Asking a bunch of so-called intellectual, creative, bohemian, avant-garde, left-wing namby-pambies “Are you glad” about anything is problematical. Of course they’re not, and they positively enjoy the existential angst!
But as in the words of Joe Walsh:
"I can't complain, but sometimes I still do."
But then for me, it was really the only choice possible. I've been obsessed with astronomy since I was five years old. If I hadn't become a tenured astronomy proffie (whose official title in fact is “Professor of Physics”), I would have become some variety of frustrated person, even if I'd become a much-wealthier engineer or computer person, and there's no guarantee either of those would have happened, since my heart just wouldn't have been in either. I also did a superb job of closing off my options, in the long years leading up to tenure.
It does alarm me how little the students who come to me know, and why they don't know it. Much of it isn't their fault, insofar as disturbingly much of it is.
It also alarms me how my university thinks it can address this problem---and of course they can’t solve it because those fuckers could fuck up a wet dream. Nevertheless, those are other discussions.
Not anymore, alas. I'm at a big state uni in the west right now and just hating it. The lack of respect I feel from students and staff is just too much to bear.
I think of myself as a 9th grade teacher. Put your phone down. Put your feet down. Yes, we meet Wednesday, every motherfucking Wednesday. They will lie to my face with no compunction. They think nothing of treating the whole prospect of college as a goof and a chore and something in between whatever the hell the kids do now instead of getting stoned and chasing after fit and frolicky others. Oh, well they do that still.
I hate to be this way, to feel this way. I've spent years trying to think of another gig. But this pays bills and gets me insurance and a tiny bump to my 403b. I wasted years of my career treating it a bit cavalierly, moving around. I wouldn't trade the experiences of being a trailing spouse to my wife, but my boss is a 30 year old now, and I share an office with 3 people in their 20s. I hate every minute of every day on campus.
I used to lie about the teaching. Oh, I stay for the teaching.
But as has been discussed on the old pages, it's no longer half the class worth teaching, or a third. I have three classes and a total of maybe 55 freshmen. There are 2 who act and operate in the manner of students I remember from just 15 years ago. Polite, inquisitive. Challenging.
The rest just avoid everything.
I sat there one day and said, "You know, that 5 page reading for today. That's for you. In those pages are the answers to many of the questions that you need to answer for this first essay."
I waited for "discussion" to begin. I asked leading questions. I read the opening paragraph of one out loud. I asked what the paragraph did. What was the author doing in this very basic and straight forward essay about analyzing a piece of text.
Nothing. Crickets. Swigging on their ever present water bottles. One kid with a laptop opening giggling.
"Mark, is the answer to my question on our laptop?"
"YouTube," Mark said. No hesitation.
When I asked him to turn it off or close it, he said, "You said I could take notes on my laptop during class."
"You're not taking notes. You're watching videos."
"There's been nothing to take notes about," Mark said, relaxed.
So, what do I do? I just put my head down on the fucking desk. After a while, Abby in the back offered a guess as to what the paragraph was about. And she and I talked for 90 seconds.
It was exhilarating. And that was the best it got.
I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can go tomorrow. I know I have a contract for the year, and because I'm an old veteran of these things, I'll teach the year and simply try to find ways to make it work.
But not again. Never again. I was wrong to go back to full time. I was wrong to get my hopes up and move my wife across the country.
It is pretty here. Desert, mountains. Gorgeous. But I get home from some days so physically and emotionally spent that I sit in a patio chair and smoke until I can't take it. And then I go to bed.
It's too much. Just too much. I lost the plot. I lost the ambition to rally the troops, or whatever it is I need to do to get them going.
There is one nice moment in a 7-8 hour day. And it's not enough
And I've seen it going this way for 15 years, probably. That's about when I noticed a sort of seismic shift.
The shit modern students pull would have not flown in my undergrad days. I wouldn't have treated my professors with the blithe disregard I get on the GOOD days.
Can I fix it? Sure, I suppose. I could compartmentalize things and NOT think of my whole existence as being wrapped up in being a college proffie. But that's what I do. I think that's me. I'm that thing. And when that part of my life fails, ALL of it fails.
Whenever I find myself feeling this way, I remind myself how much PAIN I am causing these clods. It's especially easy for me, since I'm a science proffie. MUA-HA-HAAA!!!!!!!!!
I don't think I primarily see myself as a proffie. It's just part of what I do. It's how I get health insurance and the other benefits, but I could live without being a proffie. The life of a proffie can just be so brutal sometimes, it's hard to have a conscience and invest myself in the life. Who knows what the future holds.
Yes. For all my complaining, I am grateful for my job, and for tenure. I realize I am very, very fortunate.
ReplyDeleteDitto.
ReplyDeleteWhile I can't stand what's happening currently at my joint, I am incredibly fortunate and I try to be appropriately grateful.
I'd like to be graceful, too, but that comes less easily...
I am, and I am also very, very grateful.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed! Though some of my students drive me up a wall, it's a small percentage. The rest are great and make it all worth it and then some.
ReplyDeleteMostly. I'm reasonably good at it, which makes it satisfying (most of the time), and I'm not sure quite what else I'd do (assuming the need to earn a living; I have plenty of ideas of what to do if money were not an issue).
ReplyDeleteMost of my students are both intelligent, hard-working, well-intentioned, reasonable, and kind, which helps, and the same can be said for most of my colleagues, and even a good many administrators (though my potential for feeling aggrieved definitely increases with distance).
Asking a bunch of so-called intellectual, creative, bohemian, avant-garde, left-wing namby-pambies “Are you glad” about anything is problematical. Of course they’re not, and they positively enjoy the existential angst!
ReplyDeleteBut as in the words of Joe Walsh:
"I can't complain, but sometimes I still do."
But then for me, it was really the only choice possible. I've been obsessed with astronomy since I was five years old. If I hadn't become a tenured astronomy proffie (whose official title in fact is “Professor of Physics”), I would have become some variety of frustrated person, even if I'd become a much-wealthier engineer or computer person, and there's no guarantee either of those would have happened, since my heart just wouldn't have been in either. I also did a superb job of closing off my options, in the long years leading up to tenure.
It does alarm me how little the students who come to me know, and why they don't know it. Much of it isn't their fault, insofar as disturbingly much of it is.
It also alarms me how my university thinks it can address this problem---and of course they can’t solve it because those fuckers could fuck up a wet dream. Nevertheless, those are other discussions.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteNot anymore, alas. I'm at a big state uni in the west right now and just hating it. The lack of respect I feel from students and staff is just too much to bear.
ReplyDeleteI think of myself as a 9th grade teacher. Put your phone down. Put your feet down. Yes, we meet Wednesday, every motherfucking Wednesday. They will lie to my face with no compunction. They think nothing of treating the whole prospect of college as a goof and a chore and something in between whatever the hell the kids do now instead of getting stoned and chasing after fit and frolicky others. Oh, well they do that still.
I hate to be this way, to feel this way. I've spent years trying to think of another gig. But this pays bills and gets me insurance and a tiny bump to my 403b. I wasted years of my career treating it a bit cavalierly, moving around. I wouldn't trade the experiences of being a trailing spouse to my wife, but my boss is a 30 year old now, and I share an office with 3 people in their 20s. I hate every minute of every day on campus.
I used to lie about the teaching. Oh, I stay for the teaching.
But as has been discussed on the old pages, it's no longer half the class worth teaching, or a third. I have three classes and a total of maybe 55 freshmen. There are 2 who act and operate in the manner of students I remember from just 15 years ago. Polite, inquisitive. Challenging.
The rest just avoid everything.
I sat there one day and said, "You know, that 5 page reading for today. That's for you. In those pages are the answers to many of the questions that you need to answer for this first essay."
I waited for "discussion" to begin. I asked leading questions. I read the opening paragraph of one out loud. I asked what the paragraph did. What was the author doing in this very basic and straight forward essay about analyzing a piece of text.
Nothing. Crickets. Swigging on their ever present water bottles. One kid with a laptop opening giggling.
"Mark, is the answer to my question on our laptop?"
"YouTube," Mark said. No hesitation.
When I asked him to turn it off or close it, he said, "You said I could take notes on my laptop during class."
"You're not taking notes. You're watching videos."
"There's been nothing to take notes about," Mark said, relaxed.
So, what do I do? I just put my head down on the fucking desk. After a while, Abby in the back offered a guess as to what the paragraph was about. And she and I talked for 90 seconds.
It was exhilarating. And that was the best it got.
I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can go tomorrow. I know I have a contract for the year, and because I'm an old veteran of these things, I'll teach the year and simply try to find ways to make it work.
But not again. Never again. I was wrong to go back to full time. I was wrong to get my hopes up and move my wife across the country.
It is pretty here. Desert, mountains. Gorgeous. But I get home from some days so physically and emotionally spent that I sit in a patio chair and smoke until I can't take it. And then I go to bed.
It's too much. Just too much. I lost the plot. I lost the ambition to rally the troops, or whatever it is I need to do to get them going.
There is one nice moment in a 7-8 hour day. And it's not enough
And I've seen it going this way for 15 years, probably. That's about when I noticed a sort of seismic shift.
The shit modern students pull would have not flown in my undergrad days. I wouldn't have treated my professors with the blithe disregard I get on the GOOD days.
Can I fix it? Sure, I suppose. I could compartmentalize things and NOT think of my whole existence as being wrapped up in being a college proffie. But that's what I do. I think that's me. I'm that thing. And when that part of my life fails, ALL of it fails.
Whenever I find myself feeling this way, I remind myself how much PAIN I am causing these clods. It's especially easy for me, since I'm a science proffie. MUA-HA-HAAA!!!!!!!!!
DeleteGood hearing from you, Cal.
DeleteI don't think I primarily see myself as a proffie. It's just part of what I do. It's how I get health insurance and the other benefits, but I could live without being a proffie. The life of a proffie can just be so brutal sometimes, it's hard to have a conscience and invest myself in the life. Who knows what the future holds.