the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

I had an a.m.a.z.i.n.g day. 

I've noticed something about my literature students this semester: they don't just read their homework. No. They come to class with stuff highlighted and underlined and with notes in the margins anxious to discuss what they've read. I don't have to tell them to bring their books; they know I'll not only call on them, but will ask them to back up their opinions with direct quotes from the text--and they don't let me down. They walk in before class and start talking about the reading as soon as they walk in, even though class doesn't start for another 7 minutes. 

This, as contrasted with my first three years teaching literature, in which they read sometimes, but didn't mark anything, didn't take notes, and often flunked simple quizzes. Now, without my having to lower the boom, they are all engaged. They take notes in class, look stuff up, and have brilliant observations and thoughts to share.* I don't think it's just my students. The evidence suggests that I'm really doing something significantly different, but damned if I know what.

* Possibly also of note: I've let them know that as long as they come prepared to facilitate meaningful discussion about the texts--NO QUIZZES.

My guess? I understand how much literature has to be taught now, but I also understand more about it. And it's neat. And I love it. (And you know what else? This blows my mind, y'all. My freshman composition students take notes. I never told them to. They just do. And they reference and improve their notes in subsequent classes. And they ask meaningful questions. And they want to get a jump-start on their writing assignments.)

So yesterday--Sunday--I settled into our library (downstairs, where the books live) and started working on my lessons for the week. I also had some additional duty stuff to take care of. I prepped a couple of composition lessons for the week, then took a break for a few hours of Facebook chats with friends and Candy Crush (god help me), then around midnight, reread the short story I taught in my morning literature courses today. A couple of things I noticed struck me as thought-provoking, but I was too tired to look them up. 

I woke this morning thinking about them. We were covering James Baldwin's "Going to Meet the Man" (<--linky) short story, incidentally, from 1965. It's a difficult text for most cadets. It is rife with sexual, racist, and violent imagery.* 

* Generally, it's sexuality that triggers their sheltered minds, but racism in literature can be quite awkward, as well. A colleague popped in today and told me that when she first came to teach at USAFA, she had an MEO (Military Equal Opportunity) complaint against her on her third day of teaching because she taught this story. 88|

I had already warned my students that this is the sort of story that has all those components they would pay handsomely to see on the big screen: drama, racism, violence, and sex. So I think I headed that unforeseen problem off at the pass....

Anyhow. It's a difficult story, to say the least. It's very well written--hey...it's Baldwin--but it's challenging and it makes people uncomfortable. 

I exacerbated this discomfort by bringing Baldwin's Christian preacher background into it. (Indeed, everything Baldwin wrote, as far as I know, was imbued with Christian symbolism.) 

Did I mention that my course director sat in on one of these classes? Yeah. I'm never out of school. I always have homework and on some level, I'm being graded. 

I was so proud of my students. They did what they are forming the habit of doing--reading closely, underlining key passages, asking questions and making remarks in the margins, and walked in making remarks and asking questions about the reading. I introduced Wilson (Dr. Brissett) briefly, and we pressed on with the class. It was as usual: thrilling. Neither I nor my students were doing anything out of the ordinary. At the end of class, Wilson came over, shook my hand, and said, "Thank you for letting me sit in on your class. I'm sorry, but I have to go visit someone else's class right now. I'll send you my thoughts via email later. If you have anything you want to discuss further, please come talk to me." 

I said, "Thanks. It was a joy to have you." He left. 

One of my quieter students, Kevin, hung around until everyone left, then walked up to me and said, "Major Black, something you said about the Greek gods there at the last got me to thinking that maybe Jesse [the protagonist] had an Oedipus complex." He proceeded to walk out with me, explaining the parts of the story (quoting from memory) that made him think so. He asked if there might be anything to that reading. I said I didn't know, but he had just made some excellent points; the next time I read the story, I'll have to give it the Freudian reading. 

A student that hangs around after class to discuss his ideas about the story? Really?! YES!

Oh and...I had another who had to miss Thursday's class because he was participating in a funeral as part of the honor guard. He sent me an email the next day to say that, while his participation in the funeral was a meaningful experience, he wanted to tell me what he thought of the Flannery O'Connor story we'd covered in the class he'd missed. He had some great observations and connected it with his own experiences, and just needed to share that with me. 

Really? Really?! 

Somebody pinch me. 

I went back upstairs knowing--yes, knowing--I'd knocked the ball out of the park. But at the same time, Wilson hadn't seemed very enthused, which struck me as weird.* No worries, though. I know the students and I both had gotten a lot out of the discussion (and they saw things in the text that I hadn't, even. I was taking notes of their observations), so I wasn't deeply concerned that Wilson thought it sucked or anything. All the same...it put a damper on my mood. For about five minutes. 

* This is personality-driven. Obviously, I've had many people visit my class and give me critiques on my work. Most give you reassurance, at least, but it isn't a rule. 

I just told Kalli about this via Facebook chat, and she laughed at me, but it's true: I felt a bit anxious when I left for work this morning. I had an important meeting with my department and deputy head at lunch, and I knew Wilson was visiting one of my classes. It was going to be a stressful day. When I realized how I felt, I stopped and said to myself, "Today is going to be fantastic." I know that sounds silly, but I do believe it is almost all a matter of attitude. And it worked for me. 

So I bolted up the stairs, got tons of solicited inputs from my department (I'm the Resource Manager--aka, Moneybags--for the department now), consolidated it, and went into the meeting. It came out amazingly well. Col H was pleased with my answers and thoughts. I'd done well. Then I wolfed down some of that delicious soup and checked my email. Wilson had completed his critique. 

At the risk of sounding completely full of myself, here it is: 

Diana,

Thanks so much for letting me visit your class. I had a great time watching it unfold. You have a successful teaching presence that balances authority with intimacy successfully, and it’s clear your students enjoy being in your class because they are learning. I wanted to pass along a few more specific notes:

• ·        You showed your students you are working hard early in the semester to learn names, and you used names well in class discussion to create a welcome, familiar environment of dialogue.
• ·        There was high energy in your classroom from the beginning, which was impressive for a Monday morning especially—you did a lot to foster this by asking direct questions and calling on specific students; but you also managed to do this without the conversation-killing resort to fiat authority. Well done.
• ·        Your cold-calling students was often effective, but you didn’t insist on an embarrassing prolongation of the experience if a great response was not forthcoming—this seemed wise teaching to me.
• ·        Your teaching tone blends no-nonsense and wry humor very effectively. Keep it up.
• ·        You made excellent use of cultural context and biographical information to push towards another, undiscovered level of interpretation.
• ·        You broached the topic of religion appropriately and academically—this fostered great conversation and solid insights into the story without any visible discomfort on a tricky topic.
• ·        You had a great student question right at the end of class about what you expected the class to “take away” from the story. I thought you did well to avoid immediately giving a pat answer, but you might have missed an opportunity to throw this question back at the student and hear what she thought the take away might be. That could have been an enlightening moment in class.
• ·        You used a thematic approach to discuss race, sexuality, and religion in a tough story; you managed to coax your class to discuss it deeply and professionally. This was a model class.

Thanks again for letting me visit. We’re very lucky to have you teaching English 211 right now.

Best,
Wilson

You see what I mean? I don't even know what to say. Mainly? I have the most amazing students. 

Then I went and taught my freshman composition classes. I love my freshmen. They are so focused and dedicated and full of promise. And they make me laugh. And they seem to learn something here and there, despite my not necessarily going by the syllabus. 

I'm so tickled to teaching again. I think I could do this until I die, and I'd be happy. 

Y'all be excellent to one another. ;)

d