Day 2: Stand-ups aren't the only ones who master improv

I'd much prefer to be lighthearted and friendly, but if I'm pushed, I have to do my best to keep my cool. This weekend was rather disastrous, which led to a less-than-stellar first day of class. First off, the students were letting me know that they couldn't get the book by Monday. Being the thinker I am, I decided that I would find a PDF version of Dillard (which was easily found) and email it to them. Problem solved!

Actually, though, it wasn't. I got to class on Monday and had the students move the desks into a circle. From personal experience as a student, I have noticed that it is easier to have conversations when everyone can SEE each other. I had just sat down when one student raised her hand to tell me that she didn't read because she was out of town all weekend, didn't have a book yet, and checked her email 10 minutes before class. Awesome. Not the end of the world though. One student out of 26 ain't bad.

I thanked the student for her honesty and asked if anyone else was having trouble getting a copy of the book. About half of the class raised their hands. I then asked how many of them did not get my email and 7 students raised their hands. Oy.

It was this moment that I had my first regret as a teacher: I should have asked for everyone's email address on the first day of class. If I had, then I may not have been in such a situation. Since there is no use dwelling on things I cannot change now, I asked the students to give me the email address that they check the most if it differs from their campus email.

The first item on my agenda was to explain to students that our class is not a lecture. To think about our class as a community. We need to talk to each other, feel comfortable, and share our thoughts. Yes, this is a seminar. The students, although quiet, seemed to like it. I think they are still getting past the whole stigma of high school.

With the email addresses in hand, and seminar speech complete, I opened up the floor to conversation about Dillard. There was a long moment of silence. As uncomfortable as it was to sit and gaze into the eyes of scared deer standing in the headlights, I remained silent. From my writing center data, I learned that silence really upsets hierarchy. Although it seemed like an entire minute of silence, I think it was only about 20 seconds. Then, from the left side of the room, a hand went up. Hallelujah.

The conversation was limited, but it was there. Yes, somewhere there like a kernel just waiting for the right conditions to turn into its potential. Just as I was bringing the conversation back to points that I wanted to make about the essay as a whole, one student started chatting and had a look of boredom on her face.

I felt the Hulk creeping out. Oh, no. I reasoned with myself and slipped into my "hard ass" persona and subdued my inner Hulk. I looked at the student and asked her if she had a question. She said she didn't read and she was sharing the news with the guy sitting next to her. I said, "Well, if you stop talking, then you will see that I'm about to tell you what you didn't read."

The rest of the class I spent asking questions to get students to talk. I don't like this approach at all. For tomorrow, I am going to start the students off with a quick write. Rhodes had us quick write in most of the classes I took with her (which is a total of 5 classes) so it must be a good thing. We shall see.

A Platypusless Day: Day 1

As I predicted, my first day of teaching approached with no nerves to be found. In fact, when I was sitting in my office and noticed that it was 9:20am (the very time that my class starts), I still didn't freak out. In true Jaclyn fashion, I felt the nerves upon me as I grabbed the door handle and entered the classroom.

The lights were off when I walked in, so I cracked some joke about learning in the dark--I can't remember. You see, when I get nervous, I become a standup comedian. It happens at doctor's appointments, during speeches, and while teaching. While most people seem to laugh and make me feel relaxed, my scared little students just looked at me. I saw a few smiles, but no laughter.

And the nerves got worse as a result.

With a shaky hand, I passed out the syllabus and started going over the key points. I made sure to explicitly say that this class is different from what they are used to in high school. That the 5 paragraph essay they have mastered is going to function like training wheels: you can't learn to ride a bike without them, but you also won't win any bicycle races at 18 years old if they are still riding with training wheels. The students were all making eye contact and engaged by what I was saying (or, they are excellent actors), so that helped me to relax a bit. After syllabus time was through, I had them play the baseball game that I learned from Karen.

After the class was divided into two sides, the students seemed uneasy and that scared the crap out of me. I would have welcomed a chorus of crickets rather than the silence that followed me asking the first team what they wanted their name to be. I named them Team Zebra.

Whaddaya know, they thought that was hilarious.
(I pat myself on the back there... mentally)

I asked what the second team wanted to be named and there was more silence. Sigh. So, I named them Team Ostrich. The game seemed forced for the first 3 minutes or so. I started getting scared, but figured I would chill out and let things happen naturally. Lucky for me, things really turned around a few minutes thereafter.

By the end of the class period, I had learned at least half of their names and they (for the most part) looked excited and happy. I hope I can say the same after the Berger reading on Monday.

Over all, I was very happy with how things unfolded and with the energy that was in the room. I feel good about this group of students and I think they feel very comfortable with me. Comfortable, but not so comfortable with me as to attempt to walk all over me. 'Cause I'm a hard ass. And a hard ass has gotta keep up that reputation somehow.