By Jessica Restaino
What has it meant—what might it mean—to look at, to honor, to be still with, to see plainly our—and our students’—limits? And, perhaps most importantly, what might it look and feel like to do this together, alongside our students, with both confidence and compassion? What are the risks and what are the potential gains?
I was eight when I wrote in my journal that I was afraid of the new family moving in next door because they were from India. They’d speak differently, I reasoned, maybe not even know English at all, maybe they’d dress differently. Maybe they’d be hateful, mean. I did not write any of this, rooted as it all was in a deeply Italian American childhood, to be read by anyone. My words were confessional and, a few pages later, evolved first into an anxiety about whether the new kids next door would even want to play with my brother and me, different as we all were from each other, and next into a plan to get their attention. If, I guessed, we rode our bikes past the house a few times, maybe they’d come outside. These were days when mothers shooed kids out into the neighborhood, expecting to see us again only when they yelled from the stoop. As kids, we expected to be neighborhood companions, to wander and look for something to do.
I am still ashamed of what I wrote, childish though it was, and yet I have saved this journal all these years, shoved in a drawer among my socks.
Live Lit! evolves each semester, but the core idea, the beating heart – professors sharing their writing with the rest of the MSU community, most notably the students – is brilliant.
I read for Live Lit! last fall, and again last month, and both times I found the experience to be both energizing and daunting. Reading one’s work aloud is like nothing else a writer does. (Maybe that’s why not every writer does it.) It takes what we’ve done in one medium, and transforms it into another. Words on a page – one’s own words on a page – become performance. Poetry, non-fiction, fiction… they’re (usually) not written to be read aloud. Rather, the voices of the author and her characters are meant to come alive inside the reader’s head. Writing a story and sending it out into the world on wobbly calf-legs is an act of purest trust – and utter abandonment. Continue reading
This post is a follow-up to the workshop on teaching drama in 106 that Carrie O’Dell and I facilitated before spring break. We’d promised the participants there to share some of the material we used during the presentation so here it is. Hopefully others will find it beneficial too.
In the interests of not retreading material I’ve already posted on the blog, here’s a link to the post I’d made on the subject following my presentation on the subject last year:
Teaching Drama in 106 (Spring 2014)
And, in all-new material, here are a lot of different things from Carrie, consisting of a document on approaches and resources, a PPT to use with Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, a PDF version of a short two-person play (Executive Dance) she has used, and a modern variant ending to Ibsen’s play.
Drama in FYW Resources and Links
Doll’s House lecture
Gilman dollhouse end
We’d love to hear any thoughts you have on this material, any questions you might have, and, especially, how using any of this in the classroom works for you.
As a short follow-up to Bridget Brown’s post from last week about student evaluations, here’s an interactive chart developed by Benjamin M. Schmidt (an assistant professor of history at Northeastern University), which allows one to see trends in the use of language on RateMyProfessor,com reviews.
As the description on the page says, Schmidt’s chart allows users to enter words or two-word phrases and then displays their prevalence “per million words of text (normalized against gender and field).” One can also limit the results to only negative or only positive reviews.
Here it is.
Take a look, try out some terms, and see what you come up with.
I’m curious to hear if the results correlate (or don’t) with people’s initial assumptions about such data. I’m also interested to hear what people think such data might indicate and, for that matter, what it might hide. I think it’s also worth considering what the flaws/limitations in the methodology of such a study/tool are.
I’ve just completed my semi-annual Reading of the Student Evaluations. During the Fall 2014 semester, I had one section that was a joy to meet with, one that seemed to be happy and engaged and learning well enough, and one that was a bit of a disaster (due in large part to one difficult, challenging student).
As usual, there’s good news and bad news.
First, the good news: Perhaps not surprisingly, the class that was a joy to meet with mostly gave me very positive evaluations:
“Everything was well taught and explained.”
“I enjoyed how the instructor asked us to write about topics we could relate to such as social media and celebrities.”
“The professor helped me better my writing significantly.”
Something worked in this class. As I understand it, my goals for the class, and my idea of myself as an instructor aligned with their expectations of the class, and their perception of me as a teacher. Yay me! Continue reading
Following on recent discussions with a couple of people about how we grade participation, I thought I would post my approach, because I get the (possibly inaccurate) impression that it is a little idiosyncratic, and in hopes that it may spark some discussion about others’ approaches and philosophy to participation.
I emphasize participation heavily in my courses and always have, whether teaching first-year writing or a literature survey or a graduate course. I normally weight it at about 20% of the total, as one of the various ways that I incentivize student participation. Since participation both matters significantly to student performance in my courses and is the most nebulous of the various elements that I grade, I have always sought to grade it as objectively as possible. In the interests of not relying purely (or even somewhat) on my feel for a student’s participation, and because I like playing with numbers (yes, I know!), I came up with a system that makes the process much more mechanical and, in my estimation, significantly more efficient than relying simply on my sense of what a student deserves. Here’s how it works: Continue reading
Here’s a question (or a set of related questions) that should be particularly relevant for all of us at this point in the semester:
What do you do on the last day of class? What do you do during the mandatory exam period? Is there anything you have tried that has worked particularly well (or gone really poorly)?
Inquiring minds want to know. Please comment below.