It’s crunch time again! The end of the semester has arrived in all its stressed-out glory—the piles of ungraded student work; the looming deadline to get in your final grades; MIA students, who show up whimpering, “If I don’t pass this class, I can’t graduate. My grandma’s coming out from Des Moines to see me walk. She’s 97! You gotta help me!”; and students who bring typed up complaints to staple to their teacher evaluations.
For all the sorrows, however, the end of the school year can also bring much joy. Not to gloat, but I’m a finalist for the 1 year full-time adjunct contract teaching position in my department here at Goose-EGG University. (My deepest consolations go out to all the losers other candidates who really didn’t have what it takes didn’t make the final round.)
Also on a personal note for my loyal readers (thanks btw for helping me get almost 14 views last month), Cheryl, my sweetie-britches, is talking with me again. Mostly it’s about a restraining order. But progress is progress!
“That’s great for you,” you might say. “But how can I keep myself from going bonkers as I slog to the academic year’s finishing line?”
I’ve been there. Heck, I’m there! Here’s a few of my secrets for surviving the final days of spring semester.
Putting the Mend Back Into the End:
1) The Stack of Ungraded Student Work:
“I’ve got a pile of 136 research papers to grade,” you say. “Each averages 25 pages in length. I don’t have the time to do a good job.” Please . . . are you one of those fuddy-duddies who insists on reading every word of every student’s final term paper? Come join the 21st century! If you like the title, then give it an A and keeping moving. (Everything else gets a B. If the student obviously plagiarized, a C is justified.)
Integrity Alert: When I tell other adjuncts about my grading system, some start blathering about integrity and how a teacher is a gatekeeper, insuring each student gets the grade she or he deserves. I agree we’re gatekeepers. Underpaid Adjunct Gatekeepers! Here’s how it works: The college takes the student’s money, you take the student’s (often illiterate, sub-par work, ie, “academic” toll), and you, the poorly paid toll-taker, give them the green light to go across the bridge. There’s a whole line of students coming after them, and the college wants to take their money. You don’t have time to dilly-dally about ethics.
2) Student Evaluations:
Some of my adjunct colleagues get very apprehensive when it comes to student evaluations. But I ask them, “Why are you worried about a herd of slobbering dunderheads in some intro level class slamming you?” “Because,” they say, “I want to get a full-time teaching job, maybe a tenure track job some day, and those evaluations can come back to haunt you.” First off, if you’re that afraid, you need to implement my grading advice. (See Above.) If everyone’s getting an A, who’ll complain? Occasionally, I’ll get some overachiever, who’ll write about how my class wasn’t challenging enough, but then Cheryl screens the evaluations for me at the department office and takes out any clinkers.
If you’re not dating the department secretary, make “the honest mistake” that you thought you were supposed to deliver the evaluations to the office this year. Take your time going through them and weed out the bad apples. (This is also helpful to see who deserves a bad final grade.)
3) Rip Van Winkles and Other Weirdo Stu’s!
Over the years, I’ve had my share of students from outer space—the kid who smeared peanut brittle in his hair and attracted a swarm of bees when I tried to have class outside, the woman who said she was my father in another life and wanted to be my lover in this one, this other woman who bred roaches and gave me one of her “babies” as a pet (See Photo Above) and on and on and on. But every year, no matter what, I get a Rip Van Winkle. Suddenly, with a week or two left, this student will wake up from under whatever rock she or he’s been snoozing and realizes, Gosh, I’m enrolled in a college class taught by Super-Adjunct. Maybe I should go and see if I’ve missed anything. This student is often shocked to learn that after not completing any of the assignments, he or she is flunking. I don’t like to give incompletes as Rip will then be a permanent burr in my butt for years to come. So what do I do? I give them the most compassionate look I can muster and say, “I’m really sorry. But for your own good, I’m failing you.”
Just kidding. I usually give them a bunch of extra busy work, and if they do it half-well, I’ll give them a C-.
(Posted, April 22, 2009, 10:36 PM, by Super-Adjunct, superadjunct@gooseeggu.us.com.org.net)
Comments:
Posted April 23, 2009, 10:27 AM:
Cheryl, got your message. I guess I wasn’t being “discreet” (“again”) in my blog. Whoops! Forgive me? —Super-Adjunct, superadjunct@gooseeggu.us.com.org.net
Posted April 24, 2009, 6:25 AM:
Dear Super-Adjunct, I thought the hiring committee would be interested in your trade secrets, so I emailed the link to this blog to each and every member. Signed, “One of the Losers”—paul1367@gooseeggu.us.com.org.net
Posted April 24, 2009, 1:47 PM:
Professor Super-Adjunct! You are a slimy, crack-toad jerk! I want Tessie C. back! And her house! (Thanks Paul for emailing me the link to this blog! You deserve a medal!) —sallyt956@gooseeggu.us.com.org.net
Posted April 25, 2009, 10:21 AM:
To Whom It May Concern: This Blog Is For Entertainment Purposes Only! (And to Sally: If I ever see Tessie C. again, I’ll give her to Paul, who deserves something better than a medal.) —Super-Adjunct, superadjunct@gooseeggu.us.com.org.net
