teaching week 3, pt. 2: who am I really talking to here?

Alright, fine, Universe. I’ll get into it if you just really want to get into it. And clearly you do.

I do not write these things to air my dirty laundry. Yes, I’m often frank about my fears and inadequacies, but those of you who know me also know that’s simply how I roll. Because you know what I think is hiLARious? The futility of human toil (I’m only partly joking, but the part that is joking is deathly serious). So, while I don’t enjoy being overly open in a semi-public forum, I encountered a little teaching irony this week that brought some things to light.

For those of you who missed it, I should’ve graduated in August. I actually could have gotten out in May had I got my shit together.  But I didn’t get said shit together, for a few reasons. Mainly, I had another bout of depression in what has been historically and genetically proved to be a chronic struggle. I did not deal with it as well as I should have, and so spent the bulk of the spring semester and a better chunk of summer making less than fabulous choices. The depression also compounded my professional and perfectionist fears and insecurities, so that I couldn’t do anything. I had a crippling fear of failure and a low enough opinion of myself that I ignored due dates and obligations. Eventually, I had no choice but to hang out for another semester. Over the course of the last few months, I lost the respect of my thesis advisor, lost perspective on my calling, and lost all motivation to make it better. And then, in a act of grace, I was offered a teaching assistantship. 

I’m teaching, I’m terrified, blah, blah, blah. You’ve heard this part. When I walked into class Thursday, I overheard one student say to another, “I don’t care. What’s the big deal? It’s just an English class.”I wasn’t bothered that it was said; I certainly didn’t take it personally. I was, however, a bit bothered by who said it, because he is and exceptionally bright student who is doing poorly in the course. He’s already missed once or twice and his daily grade has plummeted. He didn’t come prepared for class that day either, but e-mailed me his assignment.

When I went to read his late work, I was not angry, exactly, but deeply peeved. He was supposed to summarize two essays, and he didn’t. He responded to them, and he responded to them in a way that was a direct challenge to me and the course. I won’t go into it, but he was clear on how he felt about ol’ ENG 1302. So, I met his challenge. After making notes on the summaries, I continued,

On a slightly different note, I would say that in your in-class writing, your comments during discussion, and these summaries, you’ve proved yourself to be a very effective communicator and writer. You clearly have something to say and are self-aware enough to say it.  Because of your absences and missing daily work, your daily grade for the unit is suffering. Things are not dire beyond help — you could still walk away with an A in this course — but I would hate to see you perform below your obvious ability.

 I realize this is not exactly the most enjoyable course offered: I took it as an undergraduate English major, I’m teaching it as an English graduate, and I still struggle with how profoundly dull the coursework is. The skills really are useful, and I try to make things interesting, but it can be challenging to get excited about class. That said, do not turn in C level work when you are completely capable of an A. The only thing worse than a boring class is doing poorly in a boring class.

As I wrote, and as I grew increasingly frustrated with the student, I found myself emerging from my academic lethargy.  I understood the disappointment I caused in those who wished me to succeed. I understood how counterproductive my fear of failure had been. Most importantly, I realized that there is still hope. I don’t have to stay where I am; it is within my power to make things better.

So, hey. I think I’ll do that.