I don't know how else to have handled this...

Midterms caused an uproar, particularly in my TTh class, the one that used to be so cooperative. Periodically, it was my fault for not filling something in, and I readily owned up to my mistake and fixed it. However, I have a select few that are severely challenging my authority. First of all, one student came to me with his paper, one that earned a strong 88%, a grade I consider high, and argued that it deserved an A. Now, I have no problem with a student coming to me to find out why it WASN'T an A and what they can do to improve it, but I found his attitude terribly presumptuous. Also, I added the annotated bibliography back into the papers' percentage, something that should actually work to their advantage if they bothered to turn in the work like I repeatedly asked them to do. Instead, I had two or three outright challenging whether or not I have any right to make changes to the syllabus. My syllabus. So I sent out this email in response (and possibly in my anger, I confess):

"I need to address some changes to the syllabus. As instructor of this course, like any other teacher or professor in this school, I have the freedom to change any part of the syllabus at any time, including how percentages fall. For example, I included the I-Search proposal and the annotated bibliography in the paper section, which, altogether, takes up 60% of the grade. For those who want me to justify it, I'm going to have to pull the dreaded "because I say so" card. This is the way it works best under these conditions for me as the instructor. Look, I encourage questions, but today I felt a bit challenged as far as my authority. I may barely be older than most of you (and younger than a couple), but I'm still the teacher. Let me just say, at the end of the semester, the percentages will add up almost exactly as they do in the syllabus, with a small change to the papers section. It's not worth getting worked up over. The fact of the matter is, if something was not turned in and you're worried about its affecting your grade, it would've affected it no matter what. The way I set it up actually makes it affect you less.

Please forgive me for being sharp about this, but in some of your approaches to me, I felt very disrespected today. Giving you the benefit of the doubt, I imagine you didn't mean for it to come across that way, but I felt attacked at times. At this point, unless you have a specific issue, like missing points for something you turned in that can be verified, I ask that you let me do what I decide to do. I will always try to work things out in a way that most benefits you, but you have to trust my judgment. If that's a problem for you, maybe you should be taking this class with another instructor. Again, I apologize if that sounds snotty or impatient, but I've got limits. I mean no disrespect for any of you; I simply insist that you treat me with the appropriate authority for my position. I may be a graduate assistant, but as for this class, I am the instructor. Period.

This rant is not relevant to the majority of you, so I'm not trying to scold the whole class. However, I do feel that this is a message the whole class needs to hear in case this comes up again. "

A large chunk of the disrespect I sensed came through tone of voice, primarily, and secondarily from when I would explain, but the students kept pressing the issue. I think this may be a bit on the sharp side, but I wanted to be clear. Maybe I'm just not good with confrontation, but I didn't know how else to deal with it. Had I spoken at the time, knowing me, I would've cried (the slightest bit of anger with me, and I start crying if I try to talk).

I would appreciate feedback.

Exploding-Head Syndrome

I think I may cry. I cannot believe how many F's I had to give out for midterms, and I warned them. The ones who turned everything in either got an A or a B... there were a couple C's and a couple D's, but then there was this huge chunk of F's... some of which were brilliant writers. The reason? Not bothering to turn things in. Pure and simple.

Barring common sense, realizing it's not my fault per se, I feel incredibly guilty. While I know better, I still find myself wondering if I could've done more. Blame it on my INFP/J personality... the whole "save the world" syndrome. I wouldn't be me if I didn't suffer from it. It's just frustrating.

I think a serious talk with my students is in my near future, one that includes the whole, "If you're overdoing it, you need to drop something now, even if it's this class."

This is one of those magical times when I question whether or not I'm doing the right thing in becoming a teacher. Again, the wise, reasoning side of me says of course I am, but there are a lot of sides to me, and right now, the worrywart-weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders side of me is prevalent. Meh.

My nose is twitching.

Overhead Image Assignment

This is the drawing I created for the overhead assignment; however, since I overslept this morning (imagine that!), I get to talk about it here.

I will be sure to edit this tonight with thought and reflection. For now, just ooh and ahh over my beautiful Microsoft Paint artistry *cough*.

Edit: I find myself in many different camps, as do many of my fellow GAs. Originally, I was going to draw leaves floating down the river, labeling each with the other pedagogies, to symbolize how my style encompasses bits and pieces of every kind of pedagogy. The bridge over the river symbolizes the fact that, though my core is creative writing, I try to remove myself enough not to get too swept up in its ever-changing current and manage to forget to incorporate different aspects that will improve my overall ability to reach my students. In other words, while creative writing is my English love, I tend to look at things through the perspective of my other creative majors and minors of the past (visual arts, vocal music, and so on), and I know that I need to, in my own work, remain true to my own voice before I try to mold myself into the most popular styles... if I don't, I will lose my identity. My bridge is anchored in collaboration and expressivism, both of which serve as major support for creative writing.

To sum up: I'm just a little crazy, and just like in life, I don't quite fit into any one place.