Where are the men? Nearly 70 percent of our students are male, but only 29 percent of students in my classes this semester are male. Why do I have so few men in literature and writing classes? Is it just me or are our men severely English-phobic?
Who are these people who keep popping in early for the next class that meets in my classroom? "Hello!" I say, "We're having class! We have ten more minutes! Please go away!" If you were on your way to the first day of class and you saw a classroom full of students busily writing at their desks 20 minutes before your class was scheduled to start, wouldn't you double-check before barging on in? Or do these students assume that their class is the only one that matters--or, indeed, exists?
Should I celebrate or feel sorry for the student who's taking three of my classes this semester? She'll be reading or writing something for me every waking moment of her life. For the next 15 weeks, her soul is MINE.
Where did all my umbrellas go? Who can give me directions to the Land of Lost Umbrellas, and how do I persuade all my umbrellas to come back? Better make it quick--rain is on the way, and I don't want to show up for my next class sloshing all over the floor like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. (With my luck it'll be the wrong classroom anyway.)
2 comments:
The Land of Lost Umbrellas suffered a right-footed coup while you were gone. The country has been renamed The People's Democratic Republic of Lost Socks.
The way students barge in also puzzles me. I think a shift in magnetic north has got them confused.
D.
I wonder whether the lost socks and umbrellas get together with all my lost ball-point pens and earrings and have a good laugh of an evening.
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