Dear neglected, dear blog, dear--
How have you been? Are you having a happy holiday season so far? Are you enjoying your solitary trek through this long December? We should catch up -- it's been too long -- maybe get coffee or Chinese noodles, the good kind that are supposedly authentic. I'd like that.
I've been too busy for you. I've been selfish, I know. I haven't made time for you. But you've been too busy for me too. Or maybe that's just the line I tell myself to get by, that you're having another life, that you and other friends are updating and chatting, swapping RSS feeds and laughing without me. Facebook says you're in a relationship now; your new girlfriend looks nice, but I still hate her. I heard you've won awards, traveled the country, the globe, got a new job that doesn't actually suck. That's great, that's all great, it's amazing how much you've done when I've not been around.
I've been teaching.
It sounds so small when I say it.
Everyone tells me it's a noble job, but it feels small. The way people tell a bride that rain on her wedding day is a sign of good luck not a sign of miserable weather on the day of her celebration.
You ask what I'm doing now and I reply I've been teaching, and you reply Oh really? Teaching what? (you've always been good with the follow up). I tell you it's creative writing and intro to composition, all at the college level. That's great, you say. That stuff is really one of those building blocks.
Building blocks. Basics. Boring. One of those classes you were forced to take but didn't in a million years ever want to take.
Did you know, you say, I graduated from that school, the one you're teaching at. Now it's my turn to say Oh really? That's kind of cool. I smile.
But those are my problems, not yours, so instead I ask what you're doing now.
You're working for a DC think tank. You're writing code for internationally focused government organizations. You're months away from a high tech Ph.D. You're starting a consulting business. You're living in Portugal. You're meeting and greeting stars on Broadway, you're giving your business card to Sigourney Weaver. You're building engines for cars so advanced they don't even exist yet. You'ved moved to the East Coast.You've gotten married.You've had a baby, would I like to see pictures?
It's been too long.
I was reading my poetry students final portfolios today. And there's something about poetry, and those who are beginning to practice it, that is so raw and truthful and so fucking honest. And it really tripped me up. It got me agreeing with them that yes, there is something about poetry that is just so ... fragile. It shouldn't be any more fragile than any other form of writing -- after all, it's words on a page. Poetry should be no more fragile than the words its made up up. But it is. Our friendships, our cares, our complaints, our successes, our failures, how we communicate or don't, should be no more fragile than ourselves. I'm not fragile. I've worked hard to not be so. But our friendships are perhaps more fragile than I would have imagined. And they break softly, quietly, under the strain of a thousand days and a thousand words not said.
Because if you think I could be forgiven for this, I wish you would.
--No, not those of you whom I told to fuck off over the years. The crazymakers, drama queens, and liars, I've excised your from my life for a reason. I don't want your forgiveness. I don't miss you. I don't miss your drama. I don't miss the regret that inevitably came from hanging out with you and going along with the flow. I don't miss you lying to me about your other girlfriends, I don't miss you lying to me to make yourself look like a better person than you really are -- if you're mean behind your friends' backs, then be mean; if you're petty, be petty; if you're a sleaze, be a sleaze; just be honest about it. I don't miss you telling me btw, I'm single this weekend and expecting me to lie to your boyfriend, your fiance, about about what you did while visiting me in Chicago. No, for you I hold firm with my assertion that you should fuck off.--
The ones from whom I want forgiveness are the ones whom I just let ... drift. The ones whom I accidentally neglected and now I don't know if the connection still works, if the link remains unbroken.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Friday, December 16, 2011
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
BYOEnergy
What I've found over the past few years is that some classes -- some groups of people, really -- bring their own energy. You walk in and people are talking to each other, they talk to you, you talk to them as a group and at least someone responds. These groups of people have thoughts they want to share with each other even if they are not necessarily course-related thoughts. I encourage that. I love "coffee shop" classrooms, where the students feel as comfortable verbalizing their own random association as I do -- and I'm very comfortable with off the wall or fucked up metaphors if it gets my point across.
Not all groups are like this. Oh, I wish they were. Alas. Some groups don't want to chat. With each other. With the teacher. At. All. They don't want to elaborate when called on. They will chat on their phones to people of their choosing, but they choose not to bring that energy into the classroom.
In those situations as teacher I can feel the energy suck. The normal-person energy I bring to the group is not enough to light up the room. The lights dim and flicker. The computer screens brown out and -- if I'm having a really bad day -- black out completely.
Those are the B.Y.O.Energy classes.
It's taken me a long time (half a semester) to realize that one of this semester's classes is a B.Y.O.Energy. I thought they were getting into the swing of my discussion-based coffee-shop-ness a couple of times, but it still wasn't enough energy to propel the class forward and make things feel like they were clicking along.
Recently, I found the energy source for the class: me. Me behaving (a) exuberantly and (b) teacherly.
I can do the teacherly stand at the board and lecture thing, I think it benefits the students more if they can sit in a circle with me have a discussion, but I can run either kind of classroom. Some classrooms shut down when you go into stand-at-the-board mode. They take notes and stop engaging with you. Some classes (particularly the B.Y.O.E. classes) tend to like the set up. They know what to expect when you behave as the traditional teacher and they as the traditional student.
Crazy. So, now to revamp the rest of semester to stand and deliver -- oh and ham it up with the kind of energy that can only be considered wild and crazy for 8:00 AM.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Tone in Writing
My students often stumble when I ask them to describe the "tone" of a piece we've read. For some reason, they always say the tone of text book articles and news paper articles is "informational." Far too many students in different classes have said this to me for it to be some sort of fluke. Someone out there has to be teaching that "informational" is a tone. It's not.
When trying to describe tone, use words that would also describe someone's emotions. Don't think what was the text's tone? think how did Jane sound when you talked to her today? If Jane sounded like a newspaper article, then chances are she sounded serious or unemotional. If Jane sounded like a humor column then she probably sounded funny, amused, humorous. If she was announcing the death of a much liked person, then she probably sounded grave, serious, or perhaps a bit shocked.
Tone in writing is much like tone of voice: it comes from word choice and sentence structure. Speaking in short bursts or writing in short sentences is often used to convey that a speaker/writer is angry or excited. Choosing long, sonnorous words and sentences conveys a sense of tiredness or sadness.
So back to work for me -- tomorrow's another day of teaching America's college students that "informational" is not an emotion.
When trying to describe tone, use words that would also describe someone's emotions. Don't think what was the text's tone? think how did Jane sound when you talked to her today? If Jane sounded like a newspaper article, then chances are she sounded serious or unemotional. If Jane sounded like a humor column then she probably sounded funny, amused, humorous. If she was announcing the death of a much liked person, then she probably sounded grave, serious, or perhaps a bit shocked.
Tone in writing is much like tone of voice: it comes from word choice and sentence structure. Speaking in short bursts or writing in short sentences is often used to convey that a speaker/writer is angry or excited. Choosing long, sonnorous words and sentences conveys a sense of tiredness or sadness.
So back to work for me -- tomorrow's another day of teaching America's college students that "informational" is not an emotion.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The The Impotence of Proofreading
It's paper grading time. So I'm MIA from the blog as I try to conference with 22 students about 22 different projects in the space of 36ish hours.
For you (and them), I present "The The Impotence of Proofreading"
For you (and them), I present "The The Impotence of Proofreading"
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Just keep swimmin ... just keep swimmin
Some observations from a life that's been overwhelmed by grad school in less than a week.
(First)
For the local towing company, the fruit has ripened on the vine. The apartment complex switched over from 09-10 parking permits to 10-11 parking permits. They announced this by hanging signs in the club house and made no other efforts to contact residents. For management's lack of effort, McDonald's towing will reap the reward. The sound of their idling rig, strikes panic into me after my car was seized as low hanging fruit last fall. The clank of chains and the sound of the wench send me running to the window to make sure I don't have to run downstairs and save my car from a $150 trip across town without me before they clank the blocks into place behind my front tires and leave.
(Second)
Teachers battling technology distractions are more effective with carrots than sticks. Walking onto campus the other day, I heard a thin, blond, petulant teenager stating her displeasure with her professor's policy of taking away cell phones. She can't do that. We're not in high school, the teenager kept repeating, her phone cradled in her hand as she walked, like it needed attention and comfort from her after its close call.
Her professor's stick approach -- taking away the phones -- was obviously not causing feelings of goodwill and bettering the learning environment. My carrot approach, on the other hand, has been well received. If the students check in their phone and leave it turned off and on the front desk for each class all semester, they get a three percentage point grade bump.
Of course, carrots and sticks wouldn't be needed at all, if everyone -- teenagers and adults, alike -- could realize that using their cellphones to text, chat, surf or even just to check the time during class (or a meeting, or a dinner) is rude, annoying and distracting for everyone involved.
(Lastly)
I may be reciting lines from a fish named Dory, but really, I think I just want to be a cat. Curling up on my pillow with a paw over my nose and ignoring everything I have to do sounds ideal right about now.
(First)
For the local towing company, the fruit has ripened on the vine. The apartment complex switched over from 09-10 parking permits to 10-11 parking permits. They announced this by hanging signs in the club house and made no other efforts to contact residents. For management's lack of effort, McDonald's towing will reap the reward. The sound of their idling rig, strikes panic into me after my car was seized as low hanging fruit last fall. The clank of chains and the sound of the wench send me running to the window to make sure I don't have to run downstairs and save my car from a $150 trip across town without me before they clank the blocks into place behind my front tires and leave.
(Second)
Teachers battling technology distractions are more effective with carrots than sticks. Walking onto campus the other day, I heard a thin, blond, petulant teenager stating her displeasure with her professor's policy of taking away cell phones. She can't do that. We're not in high school, the teenager kept repeating, her phone cradled in her hand as she walked, like it needed attention and comfort from her after its close call.
Her professor's stick approach -- taking away the phones -- was obviously not causing feelings of goodwill and bettering the learning environment. My carrot approach, on the other hand, has been well received. If the students check in their phone and leave it turned off and on the front desk for each class all semester, they get a three percentage point grade bump.
Of course, carrots and sticks wouldn't be needed at all, if everyone -- teenagers and adults, alike -- could realize that using their cellphones to text, chat, surf or even just to check the time during class (or a meeting, or a dinner) is rude, annoying and distracting for everyone involved.
(Lastly)
I may be reciting lines from a fish named Dory, but really, I think I just want to be a cat. Curling up on my pillow with a paw over my nose and ignoring everything I have to do sounds ideal right about now.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Survival Mode
Today I had 15 student conferences.
More papers to comment on tonight and email back to students. I picked up short story reading from the magazine's slush pile as well. I want to finish ten submissions tonight so that I can pick up ten more when I go into the office tomorrow.
Yes, into the office on Saturday.
I've spent the past week walking to school because walking, no matter how cold or slippery, seemed safer and faster than driving there.
I've done absolutely zero Christmas shopping.
The conferences end on Monday. The grading will end in 11 days when semester ends.
Assuming I make it to Wednesday, I can get my swine flu vaccination.
In preparation for the nasty winter storm I knew was going to hit, I went grocery shopping Monday and did a great job preparing meals that I could eat for the entire week without return trips for supplies.
Four days later, supplies are running low.
I will have to dig out my car on Saturday and venture forth on the not-so-clear roads to the grocery store.And , even if the roads are fine, the parking lots will get ya. Given Michigan's economic situation, businesses, as well as the state/city government, have been cutting back the amount of money they spend on snow removal. We still get the same amount of snow, we just can't afford to remove it.
More papers to comment on tonight and email back to students. I picked up short story reading from the magazine's slush pile as well. I want to finish ten submissions tonight so that I can pick up ten more when I go into the office tomorrow.
Yes, into the office on Saturday.
I've spent the past week walking to school because walking, no matter how cold or slippery, seemed safer and faster than driving there.
I've done absolutely zero Christmas shopping.
The conferences end on Monday. The grading will end in 11 days when semester ends.
Assuming I make it to Wednesday, I can get my swine flu vaccination.
In preparation for the nasty winter storm I knew was going to hit, I went grocery shopping Monday and did a great job preparing meals that I could eat for the entire week without return trips for supplies.
Four days later, supplies are running low.
I will have to dig out my car on Saturday and venture forth on the not-so-clear roads to the grocery store.And , even if the roads are fine, the parking lots will get ya. Given Michigan's economic situation, businesses, as well as the state/city government, have been cutting back the amount of money they spend on snow removal. We still get the same amount of snow, we just can't afford to remove it.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
In love with an essay
Check out Alexander Chee's essay "Annie Dillard and the Writing Life." I'm in love with this essay. I plan on saving it and giving it to my creative writing students to read ... when I eventually have creative writing students to whom I assign readings.
And, interestingly enough, Dillard, though Chee, finally articulates a reason for literary writers disliking gerunds. Previously it had been one of those "just avoid such-n-such" rules that I had headed but not understood.
And, interestingly enough, Dillard, though Chee, finally articulates a reason for literary writers disliking gerunds. Previously it had been one of those "just avoid such-n-such" rules that I had headed but not understood.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
(Ad)Verbs
Notes on Craft
Today my students and I will talk about "verbs that zing" and ones that "wimp out" courtesy of Patricia O'Conner and her lovely book on writing Words Fail Me
. She also wrote Woe Is I
(grammar for grammarphobes) which I have just obtained a copy of but have not yet read. One of these will be assigned in its entirety to my students next fall.
O'Conner is witty. She talks about verbs that feel like a dead fish or a limp handshake. Why say fell quickly when plummeted serves your purpose so much more aptly and in one less word?
Which brings us to the Stephen King quote from On Writing, seen at the top of this post: adverbs are not your friend.
I will reiterate what King and O'Conner and many a creative writing instructor has said: if you have to say it with an adverb then you're not saying it right.
Adverbs clutter up the writing as they attempt to make up for lackluster verbs. By definition, the job of an adverb is to modify the verb so that the meaning is altered. But there are so many great verbs out there to use plain, why attach modifiers to them? It's like buying a low end computer and then buying an upgrade for the motherboard, some kick ass speakers and replacing the monitor, then getting one of those ergonomic keyboards. Why didn't you just spend the money getting a nicer computer than spend the same about of money (in addition to your time searching out those "extras") as you did with the piecemeal contraption you've now made?
"Adverbs are not your friend."
- Stephen King
Today my students and I will talk about "verbs that zing" and ones that "wimp out" courtesy of Patricia O'Conner and her lovely book on writing Words Fail Me. She also wrote Woe Is I (grammar for grammarphobes) which I have just obtained a copy of but have not yet read. One of these will be assigned in its entirety to my students next fall.O'Conner is witty. She talks about verbs that feel like a dead fish or a limp handshake. Why say fell quickly when plummeted serves your purpose so much more aptly and in one less word?
Which brings us to the Stephen King quote from On Writing, seen at the top of this post: adverbs are not your friend.
I will reiterate what King and O'Conner and many a creative writing instructor has said: if you have to say it with an adverb then you're not saying it right.
Adverbs clutter up the writing as they attempt to make up for lackluster verbs. By definition, the job of an adverb is to modify the verb so that the meaning is altered. But there are so many great verbs out there to use plain, why attach modifiers to them? It's like buying a low end computer and then buying an upgrade for the motherboard, some kick ass speakers and replacing the monitor, then getting one of those ergonomic keyboards. Why didn't you just spend the money getting a nicer computer than spend the same about of money (in addition to your time searching out those "extras") as you did with the piecemeal contraption you've now made?
Monday, March 09, 2009
Monday
Life: There's a storm which has somehow effected my cable. Outside: wind. Inside: still images for each of the bazillion channels I don't need but subscribe to anyway. It's a four hour long commercial for Scope.
Teaching: I'm grading. And scheduling. And grading. And planning readings for the next month. And lesson plans. And grading. And writing articles. And course notes. And grading. And ... why did I think I could do all of this in one week?
Life: The wind storm keeps setting off car alarms. HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Cats: Rosie realized that we were trying to catch her. We were. I was trying to pack up to leave my father's house on Saturday and the last thing that needed to be packed was Rosie. I needed to grab and shove her into her cat carrier for her two hour long car nap. Once I got her out from under the bed she darted to the basement. Then into the furnace room. Then into the back room of the furnace room which is little more than the space underneath the stairs. Eventually I pried her out of the corner under the bottom most step with a 4' long, 2" diameter dowel. She was covered in cobwebs and nastiness. My father's comment: "Well, at least it's clean down there now."
Life: HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Writing: I never get as much done as I intend to. I keep telling myself that I'll write when I have time after semester has ended. How stupid is that? I need to learn to write and work simultaneously. I need to not be so lazy. I need to watch less House. I think I sighed about six times while thinking and writing this section. Make that seven.
Cooking: While at home during spring break, I finally paid attention to how my father makes his fruit sauce for steak. I knew that he cooks the steak in a cast iron skillet, browns on each side then pops the covered skillet into the oven for 5-10 minutes. After which, he removes the meat to a covered plate and adds wine, and appricot preserves to the pan drippings which he then reduces. I just never paid much attention to how long it takes something to "reduce." Turns out that I was monumentally afraid of the rapidly boiling wine in the pan so in previous attempts I stopped boiling before the wind boiled off. The result was not tasty. Tonight I proved that I can, in fact, copy his recipe.
Life: HONK.
Teaching: I'm grading. And scheduling. And grading. And planning readings for the next month. And lesson plans. And grading. And writing articles. And course notes. And grading. And ... why did I think I could do all of this in one week?
Life: The wind storm keeps setting off car alarms. HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Cats: Rosie realized that we were trying to catch her. We were. I was trying to pack up to leave my father's house on Saturday and the last thing that needed to be packed was Rosie. I needed to grab and shove her into her cat carrier for her two hour long car nap. Once I got her out from under the bed she darted to the basement. Then into the furnace room. Then into the back room of the furnace room which is little more than the space underneath the stairs. Eventually I pried her out of the corner under the bottom most step with a 4' long, 2" diameter dowel. She was covered in cobwebs and nastiness. My father's comment: "Well, at least it's clean down there now."
Life: HONK. HONK. HONK. HONK.
Writing: I never get as much done as I intend to. I keep telling myself that I'll write when I have time after semester has ended. How stupid is that? I need to learn to write and work simultaneously. I need to not be so lazy. I need to watch less House. I think I sighed about six times while thinking and writing this section. Make that seven.
Cooking: While at home during spring break, I finally paid attention to how my father makes his fruit sauce for steak. I knew that he cooks the steak in a cast iron skillet, browns on each side then pops the covered skillet into the oven for 5-10 minutes. After which, he removes the meat to a covered plate and adds wine, and appricot preserves to the pan drippings which he then reduces. I just never paid much attention to how long it takes something to "reduce." Turns out that I was monumentally afraid of the rapidly boiling wine in the pan so in previous attempts I stopped boiling before the wind boiled off. The result was not tasty. Tonight I proved that I can, in fact, copy his recipe.
Life: HONK.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
The Sky is NOT Falling
A great article/blog post by David Lynn, Editor of the Kenyon Review over on the KR Blog about the state of literature, writing literature and teaching it.
Unabashed passion. Can we all teach with it? Can we bring it to our work without cynicism and disdain. Is the "I'm too cool for school" attitude that many students bring with them to the classroom (even in college) tainting the instructors? I've seen it happen.
Judging from a very small pool of first year college instructors, the key to their success appears to be how much passion they let the students see. Most of them have the passion or they wouldn't be spending their time in grad school, but the ones who hid it, or cloaked it with a too-cool, laid back, I-know-you're-only-here-because-it's-required-so-I-won't-get-too-excited demeanor struggled the most in their classrooms.
Unabashed passion. Can we all teach with it? Can we bring it to our work without cynicism and disdain. Is the "I'm too cool for school" attitude that many students bring with them to the classroom (even in college) tainting the instructors? I've seen it happen.
Judging from a very small pool of first year college instructors, the key to their success appears to be how much passion they let the students see. Most of them have the passion or they wouldn't be spending their time in grad school, but the ones who hid it, or cloaked it with a too-cool, laid back, I-know-you're-only-here-because-it's-required-so-I-won't-get-too-excited demeanor struggled the most in their classrooms.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Publishing Platform
Last week Moonrat (an editorial assistant at a publishing house) had a wonderful post on what the hell a publishing platform is and how to go about getting one even if you don't think you know anyone.
I recommend it the article and don't really have anything to add as I'm focusing most of my energy on writing not publishing right now.
Speaking of which ... if anyone has a really fabulous way to teach college students about incorporating citations in research writing let me know, because I really don't remember how I learned to do that myself. I think it was just a really gradual hit or miss process for me ... which doesn't translate well into a lecture.
I recommend it the article and don't really have anything to add as I'm focusing most of my energy on writing not publishing right now.
Speaking of which ... if anyone has a really fabulous way to teach college students about incorporating citations in research writing let me know, because I really don't remember how I learned to do that myself. I think it was just a really gradual hit or miss process for me ... which doesn't translate well into a lecture.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Grammar Unflummoxed
First, I'm thinking of getting a cat. Don't know if I should. That's her in the picture. She's six months, a major lap cat, she's been fostered not kenneled so she's clean and clear on the disease front ... and there's someone else vying for her! Yikes! Do I really want a cat?Grammar stuff:
Thank you to everyone who tackled the yucky sentence that typifies what I'm seeing in freshmen writing.
It seemed chilly after the jacuzzi.
Turns out, thanks to Jes making me look it up, that Jacuzzi is a trademarked proper noun so for starters Jacuzzi should be capitalized. I argue that jacuzzi's trademark is going the way of Kleenex though.
Thronesquest was absolutely right identifying the first style error: "the main problem I see with this is that I don't know who is feeling chilly or who was in the jacuzzi." Right on TQ.
I asked my students what is "it" in this sentence. Some of them scoffed and said "the air" but at the same time someone else opened her mouth and said "the weather" and that set them off listing all the possible its. It could have been the water of a pool or lake, it could have been the speaker's skin. My favorite suggestion from my students: "the mood."
Point being that unless the sentence directly proceeding this one makes reference to the air or the mood, the reader is left to guess as to what that "it" could be.
The second style point Jes hit on: "But wait. 'Seemed'? Well, was it or wasn't it? Surely the narrator knows. I think this might be a bogus attempt to avoid the dreaded 'was.'"
"To seem," or "seemed" in this case, is one of those wimp out verbs. We already understand that "chilly" is an approximation, that there is no standard for what is chilly and what is not save the opinion of the speaker so saying "it seemed chilly" is a wimpy approximation of an approximation.
Using phrases like it seemed I was right, it felt like dancing with a bear, there were like two police cars, or we were rather upset, just dance around the actual emotion or action. Jes brought up avoiding using "was" too frequently, but honestly, sometimes the narrator just needs to step up and take control of the situation, build his or her authority and say this is exactly how it was. Go for the jugular. Say "it was chilly." Come on, take that sentence and shake it until it tells you it believes that what you say is what is really going on.
There's a reason we use the phrase tell it like it is with so passion in our culture.
The actual grammar mistake in the sentence no one specifically IDed however everyone fixed it in their rewrites.
It is physically impossible to after the Jacuzzi. You can't after the Jacuzzi. That clause, phrase, chunk (whatever) needs a verb! There has to be an action.
Something can come after the Jacuzzi physically, but that's a spatial relation not a temporal relation as the sentence implies. We muddy the waters of "come after" by using it to refer to to-do lists or agendas ... which makes it seem like one event is coming after another time-wise, but really the reference is to the next physical item on the list not the time doing or discussing that item will take.
In the original sentence we assume "to be" in that second phrase simply because we're trying to make sense of the sentence. "It was chilly after being in the Jacuzzi." We're used to making these assumptions because in spoken English the speaker rarely gets things right the first time and we're very forgiving of that -- particularly if they have hand gestures and a physical context to go with the sentence -- but in writing you have to give the reader everything in the words themselves without any external help, which, when you think about it from a learner's stance, is extremely difficult because our first learned communication has all sorts of props available to us to use. Goodness, how many times in France did I point to an object and say comme ca simply because I had no idea what the word was?
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Grammar Flummoxed
I never particularly thought of myself as "the grammar police" or even as particularly savvy. I adore books like Words Fail Me and Eats, Shoots and Leaves because they always have new things for me to (re)discover in them!
But compared to my students I'm the Martha-frickin-Stewart of words. Don't even get me started about their shifting verb tenses. I'm actually amazed by the sheer ability to shift tenses back and forth that many times and still believe there is a coherent narrative -- does that make me the Grammar Nazi? I don't know. At least I don't have a mustach like the Soup Nazi.
Grammar Nazi's DIY sentence of the day:
Two style issues and one grammar/logic error in the above. Can you find everything needed to rewrite the above a stronger, more articulate sentence?
I was going to answer it right here, right now, but I think I'll leave the comments section open and see what people have to say about the sentence before going all English teacher on it.
But compared to my students I'm the Martha-frickin-Stewart of words. Don't even get me started about their shifting verb tenses. I'm actually amazed by the sheer ability to shift tenses back and forth that many times and still believe there is a coherent narrative -- does that make me the Grammar Nazi? I don't know. At least I don't have a mustach like the Soup Nazi.
Grammar Nazi's DIY sentence of the day:
It seemed chilly after the jacuzzi.
Two style issues and one grammar/logic error in the above. Can you find everything needed to rewrite the above a stronger, more articulate sentence?
I was going to answer it right here, right now, but I think I'll leave the comments section open and see what people have to say about the sentence before going all English teacher on it.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
I can see you as ... a writing professor
(conversation with a friend)
Friend: I totally see you as a writing professor. With your crowded office and collection of coffee mugs and specialty coffee in the pot 24/7
Me: I'm starting to think of myself that way too. With stacks of paper piled high and clippings and post-its tacked to the wall over my desk.
Friend: And your frizzy-haired writing students who can't put five words together and you to mold them into something profound.
Me: An awkward wooden chair for the students.
Friend: Yes, one that rocks back and forth because the legs aren't even.
---
In other news, I just watched idiot-neighbor-boy take off his eyebrows lighting a grill with more lighter fluid than charcoal in it. The grill, btw, is cozied up next to his house (about 2' away) and he keeps leaving it to go back inside then he comes back out to add MORE lighter fluid each time.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Counting Down and Getting Ready
Days 'til moving: 8
Days 'til orientation: 10
Days 'til I start teaching: 19
Days 'til I start workshop: 24
Things to do before then: don't ask
I'm feeling pretty calm about this whole moving business, which I shouldn't be because immediately following the move I will be thrown into orientation for new instructors/TAs. They finally informed me of what my pay rate will be and I was pleased to find it equal to my pre-grant tuition. Yea for not being (entirely) slave labor!
The text book, however, is completely scaring me as to the kind of students I'm going to encounter. I really need to remember that these will be college freshmen but dang if it hasn't been a while since I've dealt with college freshmen academically. I know what she's expecting when she walks into rush, but I don't know what she's expecting when she walks into College Writing 101.
I mentioned all this to my mother and she retold me something that supposedly happened to me my first year of college. That after the first paper in either my freshmen seminar class or my college writing class that the prof laid into us, that none of us were writing on the college level except the two A's he had given out and that anyone who had not received an A needed to make special arrangements to see him. Figuring I had a 2/15 chance of getting an A, I prepared myself for the worst.
My paper had gotten an A.
I remember none of this. But my mother tells me it happens and I can't imagine how else she came up with it other than me telling it all to her. And my not remembering is only further proof that I have no idea what I'm getting into with freshmen.
Days 'til orientation: 10
Days 'til I start teaching: 19
Days 'til I start workshop: 24
Things to do before then: don't ask
I'm feeling pretty calm about this whole moving business, which I shouldn't be because immediately following the move I will be thrown into orientation for new instructors/TAs. They finally informed me of what my pay rate will be and I was pleased to find it equal to my pre-grant tuition. Yea for not being (entirely) slave labor!
The text book, however, is completely scaring me as to the kind of students I'm going to encounter. I really need to remember that these will be college freshmen but dang if it hasn't been a while since I've dealt with college freshmen academically. I know what she's expecting when she walks into rush, but I don't know what she's expecting when she walks into College Writing 101.
I mentioned all this to my mother and she retold me something that supposedly happened to me my first year of college. That after the first paper in either my freshmen seminar class or my college writing class that the prof laid into us, that none of us were writing on the college level except the two A's he had given out and that anyone who had not received an A needed to make special arrangements to see him. Figuring I had a 2/15 chance of getting an A, I prepared myself for the worst.
My paper had gotten an A.
I remember none of this. But my mother tells me it happens and I can't imagine how else she came up with it other than me telling it all to her. And my not remembering is only further proof that I have no idea what I'm getting into with freshmen.
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