Monday, March 15, 2010
I Want No Parts of This
I sit here in a place I've been several times before. This time, though, feels a little different because I'm not inclined to do this dance again. I'm getting more and more disinclined to fill this role, and keep trying to come up with alternatives to doing what is expected of me. My normal work ethic which makes it impossible for me to give less than my best is fading away as I find myself more and more attempting to take short cuts to save myself time and effort; nobody but me will notice or care anyway, and I'm already disgusted with the situation.
The immediate issue is that it's again paper time. However, paper time is shedding light anew on everything that's wrong with education today, mostly in student effort and responsibility (or lack thereof).
I framed this paper--a literary analysis of short stories we read and dissected in class--with a big lesson on "How to Write a Literary Analysis Paper." We spent upwards of an hour or so picking apart each and every aspect of the lit analysis paper--from the introduction, to thesis statements, to topic sentences, transitions, textual evidence with analysis, and concluding sentences, to conclusions and everything in between. After we looked at each part alone, we examined a well-written lit analysis paper which I'd color-coded to show each of the parts we'd discussed. Students had a chance to ask questions and have access to the document and sample paper online. We spent another 30 minutes looking at how to cite quotes in the body of a paper. We spent another 15 minutes reviewing the proper setup for the outlines (which I'd projected onto the front screen for them to copy down a full week in advance).
The first due date was last Wednesday's thesis statement. In short, they blew. So Wednesday afternoon I skipped the gym and stayed at school super late finding good resources for teaching them how to write a thesis statement, and creating a lesson to re-teach the concept. On Thursday, I essentially talked to myself for 30 minutes of each class while explaining this concept and reviewing the resource I'd created to help them. At the end of that exercise, I asked them to use the resource and the sample thesis statements (which were examples of statements that needed work, but which had detailed advice on how to fix them) to find the issues in their own statements and revise accordingly. When I conferenced with them, I found that many of them didn't bother even attempting to revise their statements, instead coming to the "conference" expecting me to tell them exactly what the problem was and how to fix it (and, all the better, to write it for them if I was willing. I wasn't.) Student after student came to my desk and sat down with no questions prepared, but expected me to take ownership of their work. The one boy got quite annoyed with my turning my questioning to a, "What were you planning to discuss in this paper?" approach. He started rolling his eyes and remarked, "Whatever. I'll just ask my mom to look at it this weekend." I got annoyed with him in return and asked with 'tude, "What is the problem you're having with the question? What are you planning to write about in the paper? If you don't know what topics you plan to cover, how are you going to write your thesis statement?" I did my best to make time to meet with each student about the direction of his or her paper and thesis, but some students I didn't get to sit with; I did, however, bring the "revised" statements home with me to offer each one written feedback, even if it didn't accompany a sit-down.
Today was the second deadline: the outlines. I required that the outlines be typed, in full sentences, and contain thesis statement, topic sentences, textual evidence properly cited, and analysis for each of the 6 quotes. It goes without saying that these are to be printed prior to coming to class. Upon arriving to class, however, I found 2 emails expecting me to print work and 2 students who needed to go to the library to print. A handful of students also remarked in surprise, "We had to type it?" and some came to me saying, "I didn't know what form you wanted the outline in, so...." (insert lame explanation of idiotic, non-direction-following way they did it instead of A. Following the directions I gave them last week, or B. Calling one or both of thier study buddies to inquire after my expectations.)
My intention is to read and comment on all 71 of these efforts by Wednedsday so I can return them to students for growing it into their rough drafts, due Monday. As it were, in sitting down with them tonight, my rage grows in the pit of my stomach because they are, again, so poorly done. Granted, I've only reviewed 6 of them, but of those 6, only two students have the correct number of textual evidence pieces; the rest have 3 of 6. To me, those are some bad odds. There's also a distinct lack of analysis taking place which, for a lit analysis paper, is a big problem. Basically, the outlines do not portend quality final papers. They portend shit.
It is this realization that pushes me over the brink of care. Why is it, I wonder to myself, that the paper-writing process has to be this way? Why is it that I--a person who knows quite well how to craft a well-written essay in a variety of genres--am the one doing most of the work with the paper-writing process? I'm the one who is pointing out the problems with the thesis statements when it is they who should be able to identify the problems since I taught them what to look for. I'm the one who is asking them how they plan to organize their papers when it is they who should be aware of their intentions and plan their papers accordingly. I'm the one doing all the hard work while they sit on their asses and do as little thinking and planning and executing as possible. I guarantee that more than half of them haven't even bothered to re-read the story they're writing about beyond the one read we did together in class 3 weeks ago. (It became quite clear during the thesis statement experience that a good percentage of them also didn't understand the prompt topic, either, such that they didn't even know what they should be discussing in their paper. I ask you: isn't this a problem??)
I don't mind helping students through a difficult, confusing process with which they're unfamiliar and/or uncomfortable navigating. What I do mind is the lack of responsibility and accountability that I'm forced to deal with day after day. They don't even botherformulating specific questions to ask in a conference. They pretend they've never seen this stuff before (even though they've written at least 4 lit analysis papers before they get to me in 11th grade). They act like they can't do it. They behave as though I'm asking them to take on the impossible. I'm not saying it's a cake-walk, but having it framed and explained and taught as I've done, there's really no excuse for this level of poor results. I have to review 71 outlines by Wednesday, but about 60 kids can't be bothered to have fully completed 1 outline. There's something wrong there. What's worse is that, despite all of my lessons and feedback and conferencing and suggestions, the final papers will have shown almost no improvement. How do I know this? Because they almost never do. They don't take the suggestions because that would require them to revise; they hate to revise. Revision, after all, is a form of work. They don't "do" work. I'm the only one who does that.
And so the cycle continues. I teach and teach and teach, but no learning seems to happen. I work my ass off to help them achieve success, but the only one learning how to write a better paper is me. Like I said, I'm tired of the dance.
I just want to sit this one out.
I'm pretty sure no one would even notice.
The immediate issue is that it's again paper time. However, paper time is shedding light anew on everything that's wrong with education today, mostly in student effort and responsibility (or lack thereof).
I framed this paper--a literary analysis of short stories we read and dissected in class--with a big lesson on "How to Write a Literary Analysis Paper." We spent upwards of an hour or so picking apart each and every aspect of the lit analysis paper--from the introduction, to thesis statements, to topic sentences, transitions, textual evidence with analysis, and concluding sentences, to conclusions and everything in between. After we looked at each part alone, we examined a well-written lit analysis paper which I'd color-coded to show each of the parts we'd discussed. Students had a chance to ask questions and have access to the document and sample paper online. We spent another 30 minutes looking at how to cite quotes in the body of a paper. We spent another 15 minutes reviewing the proper setup for the outlines (which I'd projected onto the front screen for them to copy down a full week in advance).
The first due date was last Wednesday's thesis statement. In short, they blew. So Wednesday afternoon I skipped the gym and stayed at school super late finding good resources for teaching them how to write a thesis statement, and creating a lesson to re-teach the concept. On Thursday, I essentially talked to myself for 30 minutes of each class while explaining this concept and reviewing the resource I'd created to help them. At the end of that exercise, I asked them to use the resource and the sample thesis statements (which were examples of statements that needed work, but which had detailed advice on how to fix them) to find the issues in their own statements and revise accordingly. When I conferenced with them, I found that many of them didn't bother even attempting to revise their statements, instead coming to the "conference" expecting me to tell them exactly what the problem was and how to fix it (and, all the better, to write it for them if I was willing. I wasn't.) Student after student came to my desk and sat down with no questions prepared, but expected me to take ownership of their work. The one boy got quite annoyed with my turning my questioning to a, "What were you planning to discuss in this paper?" approach. He started rolling his eyes and remarked, "Whatever. I'll just ask my mom to look at it this weekend." I got annoyed with him in return and asked with 'tude, "What is the problem you're having with the question? What are you planning to write about in the paper? If you don't know what topics you plan to cover, how are you going to write your thesis statement?" I did my best to make time to meet with each student about the direction of his or her paper and thesis, but some students I didn't get to sit with; I did, however, bring the "revised" statements home with me to offer each one written feedback, even if it didn't accompany a sit-down.
Today was the second deadline: the outlines. I required that the outlines be typed, in full sentences, and contain thesis statement, topic sentences, textual evidence properly cited, and analysis for each of the 6 quotes. It goes without saying that these are to be printed prior to coming to class. Upon arriving to class, however, I found 2 emails expecting me to print work and 2 students who needed to go to the library to print. A handful of students also remarked in surprise, "We had to type it?" and some came to me saying, "I didn't know what form you wanted the outline in, so...." (insert lame explanation of idiotic, non-direction-following way they did it instead of A. Following the directions I gave them last week, or B. Calling one or both of thier study buddies to inquire after my expectations.)
My intention is to read and comment on all 71 of these efforts by Wednedsday so I can return them to students for growing it into their rough drafts, due Monday. As it were, in sitting down with them tonight, my rage grows in the pit of my stomach because they are, again, so poorly done. Granted, I've only reviewed 6 of them, but of those 6, only two students have the correct number of textual evidence pieces; the rest have 3 of 6. To me, those are some bad odds. There's also a distinct lack of analysis taking place which, for a lit analysis paper, is a big problem. Basically, the outlines do not portend quality final papers. They portend shit.
It is this realization that pushes me over the brink of care. Why is it, I wonder to myself, that the paper-writing process has to be this way? Why is it that I--a person who knows quite well how to craft a well-written essay in a variety of genres--am the one doing most of the work with the paper-writing process? I'm the one who is pointing out the problems with the thesis statements when it is they who should be able to identify the problems since I taught them what to look for. I'm the one who is asking them how they plan to organize their papers when it is they who should be aware of their intentions and plan their papers accordingly. I'm the one doing all the hard work while they sit on their asses and do as little thinking and planning and executing as possible. I guarantee that more than half of them haven't even bothered to re-read the story they're writing about beyond the one read we did together in class 3 weeks ago. (It became quite clear during the thesis statement experience that a good percentage of them also didn't understand the prompt topic, either, such that they didn't even know what they should be discussing in their paper. I ask you: isn't this a problem??)
I don't mind helping students through a difficult, confusing process with which they're unfamiliar and/or uncomfortable navigating. What I do mind is the lack of responsibility and accountability that I'm forced to deal with day after day. They don't even botherformulating specific questions to ask in a conference. They pretend they've never seen this stuff before (even though they've written at least 4 lit analysis papers before they get to me in 11th grade). They act like they can't do it. They behave as though I'm asking them to take on the impossible. I'm not saying it's a cake-walk, but having it framed and explained and taught as I've done, there's really no excuse for this level of poor results. I have to review 71 outlines by Wednesday, but about 60 kids can't be bothered to have fully completed 1 outline. There's something wrong there. What's worse is that, despite all of my lessons and feedback and conferencing and suggestions, the final papers will have shown almost no improvement. How do I know this? Because they almost never do. They don't take the suggestions because that would require them to revise; they hate to revise. Revision, after all, is a form of work. They don't "do" work. I'm the only one who does that.
And so the cycle continues. I teach and teach and teach, but no learning seems to happen. I work my ass off to help them achieve success, but the only one learning how to write a better paper is me. Like I said, I'm tired of the dance.
I just want to sit this one out.
I'm pretty sure no one would even notice.
Labels: bad students
I'm curious as to why only select posts are reposted here. One of the points that Natalie is trying to make in her own defense is that her blog entries weren't always about her job, and that the people who found the posts seen here had to literally be digging for dirt on her. Just wondering...
ReplyDeletePretty sure it's because the owner of this blog is trying to take entries out of context.
ReplyDeletePersonally I love these posts and wish there was a place were the old blog was archived.
It's 2013 and I just discovered this whole debacle.
I agree. However, perhaps the person only had copies of certain entries of Natalie's blog or wanted to mostly focus on the controversial blog posts? I still think these are pretty awesome, though. Having come from CB's neighboring district, I wholly agree with her sentiment
ReplyDelete