Learning from Students

Lest anyone be mistaken about my attitude about teaching and students and the work  involved, I feel fortunate to have participated in such a magnificent profession for decades. Can you think of any other career in which a person actually gets paid to read, write, and share ideas with people who are in the process of laying a foundation for their lives? To be honest, there are people who are in college because of parental expectations,  peer pressure, financial assistance, and a host of other reasons.

But (with a capital B), teaching is still a tremendously rewarding career for those with the right temperament, skills, and interests. Those are attributes for another day. Today I want to spotlight the heart and soul of it all: students.

Right now I’m thinking of a near meltdown I had on I-95 coming back from a fun family weekend in GA when I learned of the brutal murder of one of my former students, a beautiful, sassy, spirited young wife and mother. We had become Facebook friends, and I enjoyed reading about her interactions with her patients, her many mission trips, and her strong faith. One day I realized I hadn’t seen any posts from her in a while and consequently checked her page. Stunned, her cover was a photograph taken at her memorial service held several weeks earlier. Although there was no mention of it, I knew who had taken her life. Cruising along I-95 nearly a year later, my niece confirmed it and gave me the horrific details.

It’s okay to care. Students are people too.

And then there was the young woman who often slept in the back of the classroom, the back right corner. Was I annoyed? Sure, sometimes, but I felt like I needed to cut her some slack. One day, she awoke, stood up shakily, and lumbered toward the door. Somewhat amused, I asked “Are you leaving us, Lola?” She turned around and announced, “No, I got to go to the bathroom.” Some people giggled, others looked momentarily uncomfortable, but others had the par for the course attitude. Lola returned, stumbled back to her corner desk, and continued her nap.

It was a problem, yes, and one I intended to address before the following class. But she didn’t return—not for the next class or the one after that.  I later learned that she had been stabbed to death by her boyfriend. True story. Someone in a night class shared that she had been awakened in the night by the screams of the student’s mother who lived in a nearby mobile home and had come home to discover her daughter’s lifeless body. The class and I had “a moment,” several of them actually, as we processed this information.

Students have outside lives that creep into the classroom.

Let’s end this on a happy note. One semester there was this angry looking young man in a morning class. His everyday look seemed to say, “Go ahead, try to teach me something.” What have I done to warrant such glares? I wondered. One day, there was a little extra something about his appearance—gloomy on top of irritated. I handed him his paper back and commented that he didn’t look very happy. He looked up at me with a doleful expression that pierced my heart and said, “Oh, Mrs. Bowers, my little puppy is so sick, and I hated to leave her this morning.” Taken aback and surprised by his humanness, I told him I was sorry. He lowered his head and said he could think of nothing else.

His puppy lived and I was reminded not to make snap judgments.

The above are just three examples that came to mind this morning, and they all have something in common. Love? Maybe love and maybe just caring and compassion—ingredients common to all decent teachers.

My Slackness

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that all teachers need to get on the other side of the lectern every now and then. Doing so will remind them of how it is to be a student with a life outside of the classroom.

Yesterday I finished a course I’ve been working on for about eight weeks on how to build a website using WordPress. I took it through Ed2Go, and although I didn’t ace the course, I learned a wealth of new information and have incorporated some of it into my blogs. For example, I now know how to make a gallery with my photographs and how to vary its presentation. I can develop a slide show, a mosaic tile display, or a series of circular pictures for the gallery.

However, as much as it pains me to admit this, I did not successfully complete the course. I did none of the assignments that the instructor asked us to do, and I contributed on the discussion board only once. I satisfactorily completed all quizzes except for the final. Unfortunately, without the final, I won’t get a certificate. Since the course was for personal enrichment and not part of a degree or a requirement for my work, having a certificate doesn’t matter all that much. I hate to think of myself as a quitter. But alas, there it is.

Since the instructor encouraged us to save a copy of the final, I did so and had planned to go back and study the questions. To pass the test and the course, we needed to make at least 65, and we had to do it on the first try. Uh-oh. I knew that wasn’t going to happen without some serious study time.

But here’s what happened. I went to a concert with friends last night, and when I got home, I wasn’t motivated to take the final. To be perfectly honest (why not?), I had forgotten all about it. I can’t believe that I am guilty of what so many of my students do: procrastinating until it’s everlastingly too late.

Just like me, many of my students ignore the discussion board and the assignments as if tests and quizzes are all there is to the course. This is true despite my frequent reminders to log on and post something at least once per week. I also regularly remind them of two blogs they can post on for extra credit. Do they? Not really. Once in a while, a gung-ho student who doesn’t really need any extra credit will post blog comments, but the ones who need additional points don’t bother with it.

I have no excuse for my slackness except that the course wasn’t as important to me as prior courses have been. It was not part of a curriculum, and I wasn’t getting a grade for it. With my students, however, the psychology courses they take are part of their programs, they do get college credit for them, and if they don’t complete them successfully, they are often in financial aid hot water.

Regardless of our motives and credit needs, my students and I are similar in our procrastination. I’m going to try to remember that when I get yet another email requesting an extension for a test or an assignment. Not that I’m going to lower the bar; I’m just going to remember their other lives, the ones outside of the classroom.

Withdrawals and Poor Grades

You might think that I’d have all the answers after 35+ years of teaching, but you’d be wrong. Every semester, every week, every class, and every student offer new challenges and experiences to ponder.  Withdrawals and poor grades are on my mind today.

Since Friday, three students have told me that they need to withdraw from one of the online courses. Two of them have jobs that don’t allow the freedom to schedule a time in the Testing Center to take a test. This excuse is a bit fishy to me since they have six days to take each test. Another student said she frankly just didn’t have the time to devote to an online class right now. She had underestimated the commitment that successfully completing the course would take. Two of these three students, by the way, didn’t tell me they needed to withdraw; they said they needed to withdrawl. Ouch! Do you know how often I see that word? Never mind. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.

I feel compassion for the two students who are withdrawing because of such demanding job requirements. If their perceptions are accurate and their jobs are that challenging, how will they ever obtain better jobs? Without an education, people have even less control over working hours and conditions. Should I say that to them or just sign the form?

I feel uneasy about the young woman who said she didn’t know that an online class would take so much of her time. Actually, it’s not her that I feel uneasy about. It’s the perception that online courses are easier and less demanding than traditional ones. Not so. Should I begin including a disclaimer of sorts in each online course syllabus?

Both options have their advantages and disadvantages, but I think online courses require a different type of personality and commitment. The person needs to be disciplined, determined, and organized. Plus, he or she must realize from the very beginning (when registering) that no one is going to be standing in front of a class reminding everyone of due dates and expectations. In an online course, all of this information is spelled out in the beginning, and it’s imperative that students read the syllabus and refer to it often. Normally, I don’t like the word imperative, but in this case, it’s the best choice.

The second issue is somewhat related to the first. Not everyone did as well as they expected to do on the second test, and a few students have written me for advice on the best way to prepare for the next test. This is an easy question to answer, and yet it’s an answer that many students don’t want to read. There are no shortcuts to making A’s, at least none that I know about.  I advise them to follow the SQ3R study method, read over the study guide, take a practice test, and then read the chapter again…and maybe a third time.

Poor grades, misperceptions about the work involved, and withdrawals are all related issues. Does anyone out there (teacher or student) have any advice for me and/or for my students?

Other Side of the Lectern

Every teacher needs to get on the other side of the lectern now and then. It’s so easy to forget how it is to be a student with uncertainties about how to fit the course in, how to study for tests, and exactly how the instructor/professor wants papers written.

I’m a student again. I registered for a class about how to build a website with Ed2Go, and I need to log on and take a look at it again. After all, I paid for it, and it’s something I really want to learn more about. While taking the course is a little daunting, it helps me better understand how students feel and why they might drop a course or simply stop attending.

Since the course is online, I’ve never seen my instructor. I know it’s a “he,” but I haven’t seen an email option. I’m not going to spout off about that, though…at least not until I look again. On a regular basis, I get emails from students asking where to find information about the attendance policy, what kinds of tests they should expect, or how to format an assignment. I’m always calm, cool, and collected when I reply that the information is already within the course. Then I tell them where to look.  So it could be that I just haven’t looked long enough for my instructor’s email address.

Two weeks into the course, I better understand why online students get discouraged or overwhelmed or plain old fed up. They’re don’t see their teachers and have to wait and wonder when they’re going to be online again. They don’t understand the assignments and sometimes perceive them as “stupid.” At some point, they realize (hopefully) that the teacher probably knows more about the subject and how to get it across than they do.

That’s where I am now, not understanding the assignment and frankly, not wanting to do it. Why can’t I do it my way? When I listen to myself, I realize that those are the same kinds of questions my students ask. “Why can’t I just write a research paper? I don’t understand this journal thingie.”

Am I really two weeks into the course? Where did the time go? I’m like many of my students who forget due dates and deadlines.  They forget because they haven’t checked, and I’m guilty of the same thing!

Venting time is over. It’s time to log on, re-read the assignment for this week, find the instructor’s email, actually do the assignment, and stop complaining. When this 8-week course is behind me, I’ll have a skill that I lacked at the beginning of the year and a more empathy for my online students.

New Semester Ramblings

Classes began today, and for the first time since 1975, I didn’t get up, don some teaching garb, and head for class. Even after retirement two years ago, I met at least one face-to-face class each semester, but not today. Today I checked emails from students in my three online classes.  And then I reported for jury duty, something I haven’t been free to do because of teaching commitments. It felt weird to be in a courtroom listening to a judge instead of in a classroom answering students’ questions.

It’s going to be an interesting semester. I’ll be teaching my three classes from the privacy of my own home. Or maybe from the car. And since a major reason for deciding to teaching completely online is so that I can visit my children and grandchildren more often, I could teach from Savannah, Atlanta, or Myrtle Beach. As long as I have a computer, iPad, or my iPhone, I’m in business. Isn’t technology amazing?

The teaching experience is going to be different, that’s for sure. I like the interaction of face-to-face situations, but well, we’ll see how the completely online experience works out. I’ll miss the magic of the actual classroom, but I won’t miss the stealthy but rude texting or the latecomers who come trickling in after class begins.

I don’t have to be concerned about a dress for success look either. For a few weeks I’ll be a jeans and boots type of gal and then switch to a capris and Rainbows ensemble when the weather gets a little warmer. I must admit that it felt great to sit in court wearing jeans instead of being across the street wearing professional attire.

Time to change, to move on. How can a person, including me, get to what’s next if she’s still doing what she’s always done?

So That’s a C?

Semester grades have been posted, and I think today is the day when students will see them. Most will see what they’re expecting to see, but others may be surprised. Some might even be surprised in a good way. Take Ralph, for instance. As we looked at his average on exam day, he was practically laughing with delight.

“You mean I’m going to pass?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, yes. When I drop the lowest grade, your average is 73.”

“So that’s a C?”

“Unless I discover some missing work or an error in Excel, then yes,” I replied, thinking that his astonishment was a bit over the top. Wasn’t he aware of what his grades were? Didn’t he know where to look? Had he even bothered to look?

Apparently full of joy and relief, he exclaimed, “I’ve enjoyed this class so much! I’ve loved it. You’re the best psych teacher I’ve ever had!”

Amused, I simply said, “Enough already. Some of your classmates are still taking the exam. Besides, you earned the C. I didn’t give it to you.”

“Because of this class, I’m thinking of majoring in psychology,” Ralph said as he headed to the door.

Ralph will be one of the ones who’ll be pleased with his grade. Others won’t. I wish I could give everyone good grades. Hmmm. That’s the operative word: give. I can’t give anything that hasn’t been earned. Last night I read an email from an online student asking if there was some way I could help her out. Her average was 55. What can I do to help her out? Was she suggesting that I “give” her five points?

I love to give A’s and wish there were more of them. An A stands for excellent, and there’s no way a student is going to earn an A without burning a little midnight oil. Even those with superior intellects have to read and study and turn their work in on time.

A B is a great grade too, and while there’s a lot of difference between an 80 average and an 89 one, a B is a B. That’s on my mind because of a student’s urgent request to please, please, please let her do some extra credit to earn an A. Her average was 88.

A C is fine. It’s quite satisfactory actually. Just ask Ralph. If a person has at least average ability and a willingness to do the minimum required work, she can earn a C. By minimum, I mean attend 80 percent of the classes, study the assigned material, complete written assignments (on time), and take all tests.

A D grade is an eking-by grade. Some folks are glad to get this, but most are not. It’s worth one measly quality point, and in most cases the course will have to be retaken. You can’t take ENG 102 without at least a C in ENG 101, for instance.

An F. While we all know that F = Fail, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the person is incapable. Semester after semester, many students just give up and stop coming to class. Their lives are complicated, and college is one thing they can cut. I ALWAYS advise my students to talk to their teachers before giving up because sometimes things can be worked out.

That’s my take on grades. I don’t think it varies that much from how any other community college instructor/associate professor thinks, but I’d surely welcome opinions on that. I’d also like to hear the perspective of some college students.

Needless to Say?

Have you ever heard the expression, “Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.”? I have. It used to annoy me, but now I just think, “Whatever.” But that’s not what I want to write about today. Today I just want to share a revelation about my wordiness.

I’ve been rereading some of my earlier posts on this blog and have realized several things I could do to improve them. The subject matter is okay, maybe even beneficial to some people, but most of the posts are far too long.

If something drags on and on, a reader is unlikely to stick with it until the end. I know this because I’ve read that advice over and over and because of personal experience. If I start reading a post that’s over 1,000 words, I’ll probably read the first couple of paragraphs and skim over the rest.

If I want people to read my blogs (not just this one) and leave a comment, then I’ve got to work on being less wordy. That’s something, by the way, I was warned about in a high school English class when a teacher struck through an entire sentence that had begun, “Needless to say.” Her contention was that if it was needless to say, I should have left it out.

My new plan is to continue with the overall theme of teaching experiences, tips, and insights but to write shorter posts. Most of the ones I’ve previously written can be divided into two parts…or even three. What was I thinking when writing such long entries???

Back to the first paragraph. If you’re a teacher, what has been your reaction when hearing those words? For those of you who are not teachers, what do you think prompts people to say make such disparaging comments?

Listening to Myself

Since reading Seven Thousand Ways to Listen by Mark Nepo, I’ve been trying to become a better listener, including listening to myself. Here’s a passage from the first chapter that fits neatly into the changes I’ve been experiencing as I move to the next stage of my life: “Whether facing limitations of aging or shifts in relationship or the wilting of a dream, we are often given hints of the changes before they arrive. It’s how the angels of time try to care for us, drawing us to the new resources that wait out of view.”

If I  hadn’t been reading Nepo’s book, I might have dismissed these thoughts, conversations, and dreams as interesting and paid little heed to them. Now I see things differently. They’re all messages from me to me. I’m sharing them, not because I think they’re so spectacular, but because I think you might have had something similar happen to you.

The biggest awakening came the day of a book signing at Horry Georgetown Technical College, a place where I worked for decades (See previous blog post). Shortly after that day, I had a serious bout of insomnia, and no matter how hard I tried to get back to sleep, images of teaching and experiences and people and scenes came to mind, one after the other.

“Is this what psychologists call the life review?” I wondered.  No, couldn’t be.There was only one area of my life being depicted and the images were fleeting and rushed, leaving no time for review or contemplation. The so-called life review is more encompassing and takes place over a longer period.

The day after the insomnia attack, I recalled a situation that occurred about two years ago when a woman told me that her husband was going to teach a video conferencing course. He’d never really taught at the college level before, and that fact when combined with the “lights, camera, action” aspect was proving to be both exciting and daunting. As I listened to her, my primary thought was that he was too old for that. He was about the age that I am now!

Last week a friend told me about her daughter earning her doctorate and getting a job at GA Tech. I was excited to hear this good news, AND I was glad that it was her daughter who was just starting out, not yours truly. As much as I love the classroom and everything that entails, I’m beginning to grow weary of the constant change. Did I really say that?

This semester, I have two new texts, one brand spanking new and the other a new edition. Still, how many times does a person get re-acclimated to texts before shouting “Enough!”? Some people use the same old notes year after year, but not me. I truly feel that the students deserve better. It’s laughable to think that nothing has changed in psychology over the past decade or two, especially in the area of brain research, and I want my notes and lectures to reflect those changes.

When a text changes, so do all of the ancillary materials. The ancillaries are available to students too, and that’s a good thing except that teachers have to discover the access codes and course codes so that they can give this information to the students. This knowledge is available from the book representative and/or the publisher’s website, and accessing it gets to be problematic when you can’t remember your user name and password combination…or when the rep changes from year to year. After locating the materials, the instructor then goes through some downloads and uploads (to the course sites), and occasionally the downloading aspect causes some challenges when zip files cause computer issues. My trusty laptop is still suffering after effects from two weeks ago.

Am I complaining? Maybe just a bit…but it’s helping me to see the light. Learning and adapting can be Fun with a capital F except that well, it’s beginning to be a hassle. I love learning. At the same time, maybe I need to get out of the way and let the younger generation have a go at it. I’ve had my day in the sun, the teaching sun.

I’ve been listening and watching the signs of change that have been unfolding in my life. What about you? Have you been given hints of the changes before they arrive? Are you paying attention? Are you listening?

How When to Fold ‘Em

I can’t say for sure when it began, this feeling that it’s time to move on. I first noticed it earlier this summer at Horry Georgetown Technical College, Conway campus. I had gone there for a book signing, and since I had a few minutes before the signing was scheduled to officially begin, I went for a stroll through one of the buildings where I used spend a lot of time. My office(s) were always in that building, and for a couple of decades, that’s where most of my classes were held too.

That summer afternoon I located the office of an old friend, and as I approached the door, I saw that it was shut, and I could hear a conference call taking place on the other side. Disappointed that I wouldn’t get to chat with my former colleague, I turned away and began walking towards the hallway. That’s when I saw a young woman of about 30 looking at me.

“Ma’am, can I help you find something?”she asked.

“No thanks,” I told her. “I’m not lost.”

I realized with a little twinge that I had been working at the college before that child was even born and that I had stood in that spot on plenty of yesterdays. In fact, the doorway where she stood was outside of the office where I been interviewed by Tom Reid, the man who hired me to teach four sections of English. He got promoted and moved to a bigger, nicer office with a window view. I knew several other people who later occupied that space, including a friend of mine who held the position of dean of students on an interim basic. Sure glad walls can’t talk! They’ve have some stories to tell.

Then I went for a stroll down the main hall of the 200 building and I saw every classroom filled with high school students who are part of an early college entry program. I passed the lecture room and remembered that we used to have faculty meetings there. It’s ludicrous to think about such a thing today. There are so many employees and so many departments and so many campuses!

Gee Whiz. So many changes. Back in the day, none of us dreamed that Automotive Technology would fall by the wayside and that Nursing, Dental Hygiene, and Culinary Arts would become popular programs. There are even online faculty who never set foot on campus. Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have known what online meant. Something straight and to the point?

On my way back to where the book signing was to take place, I couldn’t resist walking down a narrow hallway where I once had an office. There was a young woman working there who looked up as I passed by. How many hours had I spent on that very hallway and how many people had I glanced up at with that same look of, “I hope you aren’t going to interrupt me” on my face? Where were my former buddies, my hall mates?

Back at the bookstore for the EVENT, I mentioned to one of the employees that the bookstore used to be the library. She was a polite young woman who said, “Oh really?” I knew she was just being mannerly and that she didn’t care one iota about the many changes that had taken place at the college. But me? Well, I could feel the ghosts of students and employees of yesterday all around me. Where was BB these days?

I didn’t sell many books that day, but I did get to talk with several former colleagues and meet some new people. But best of all, the events of the afternoon awakened some unconscious thoughts lurking just beneath the surface. That afternoon signals the beginning of my humming some lines from Kenny Rogers’ song, “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em….”

What about you, Dear Reader? Have you ever had feelings or inner “promptings” telling you when it was time to move on to another chapter in your life?

End of Semester Thoughts

Another semester is coming to an end. As a semi-retired community college instructor, I taught only two classes this summer, one online and one face-to-face. The latter is the class I’m thinking about this afternoon, primarily because of the fascinating mix of students that made teaching them so much fun!

Yes, you read right. Fun. I don’t deny that teaching can be challenging, aggravating, stressful, and discouraging at times. However, the reason I keep hanging in there when I could be visiting Denali National Park or the Grand Canyon is because of the magic that can be kindled in a classroom with just the right combination of personalities.

This summer the face-to-face (a.k.a. traditional) group ranged in age from 16 to 71. The three “youngsters” were high school students approved for something called dual enrollment, a program in which high school students who meet certain standards can get credit for college courses. These three young people were absolutely delightful! Attentive, mannerly, and participative, they gave me hope for tomorrow. Seriously, sometimes I look around at baggy pants, matted hair, rumpled clothing, and weird piercings and wonder how and when and if the people sporting these looks will make it in the working world. Be honest. You’ve probably wondered the same thing.

These three weren’t the only memorable class members.

• The 71-year-old quickly won the respect of his younger classmates by his demeanor, his diligence, and his participation in class discussions. Having been around the block a few times, this senior citizen had a lot of knowledge and practical experience to share with the younger crowd.
• Three students were in midlife transitions, starting over and happy for the chance to get a new lease on life. While employment disruptions and health issues brought them to the college for retraining, I think all of them felt they’d been given the opportunity to begin a new chapter. We often talked of the importance of cognitive restructuring in terms of handling stress, anxiety, and depression, and before the semester was over, all three saw their changes in a more positive light.
• The others, equally unique and memorable, were in their 20’s and 30’s, old enough to have picked up some experiences that led them to realize the importance of education. We came to know each other a little better throughout the ten weeks, and it was interesting to see a bond develop between the young and old and in-between.

I’d like to think that next semester when Earl is building his barn, Zach is back in high school, and Crystal is sitting in her algebra class that they’ll each have a fond memory of their summer psych classmates or of something they learned ………like self efficacy.

That’s the funny thing about a semester. People come together for a few hours a week, study a topic intensely, and then split up to live their separate lives.