Deletions and Bears

I recently joined Google+. It would be an adventure if anybody used it. When I joined, I started cracking down on my Google account and the various pieces of data--pictures, personal information, etc.--that have accumulated over the past few years. I changed privacy settings all over the place and removed pictures that I didn't want more than select friends and family to see. I found one folder that had random pictures and deleted them, before realizing that they were all of the pictures from this blog. It's a tragedy, as the pictures proverbially add 1,000 words to each post. I have reposted a few of the more recent pictures available on my hard drive. However, many were lost in the abyss. I mean, what about the one in which my student drew a man riding an elephant that was flying on a magic carpet on his quiz? C'est la vie. Loss is a very real part of life. Grief is too. I would know; I read A Grief Observed (Lewis) yesterday. And I read the Twilight saga over break. Bella, like, totally grieves when Edward is gone. So, I know all about it.

Nevertheless, we move on into a new semester with new pictures and new students. I am teaching courses on conflict management and negotiation, and popular culture this semester. Both are new to me, and I am looking forward to it. My main excitement is the idea of showing Blazing Saddles to students. It has taken me awhile to get pumped for this semester, as I had a very difficult time teaching over the summer. Suffice it to say that online teaching is a different bear. The kind of bear that mauls you in the night. The kind of bear that takes all of the food from your campsite, especially the one package of Keebler's Grasshopper cookies that you brought for a special once-a-year camping treat. The kind of bear that poops right in the middle of your hiking trail just because he can. The kind of bear that reports you to your senior faculty members because they didn't get the grade they wanted. A petty asshole of a bear.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. I had a bitter taste in my mouth from teaching that particular group of students. I won't go into the stories from those 5 weeks. I would rather not sound like a harpy, but would prefer to maintain my persona of quietly suffering in a world of student entitlement. (That was sarcasm, in case you were unsure.) Instead, I am choosing to start another semester filled with hope that I will have classrooms full of adolescents who want to learn, who do the reading, who write coherent papers, and who engage energetically in class discussions. They will be the cute kind of bear, perhaps a baby polar bear or even a stuffed teddy bear just waiting to be cuddled and instructed. Yes. This semester will be the semester in which I have perfect students... at least until the first day of classes.

Smiling is my favorite.

I use this blog to write mostly about how silly my dear students are. (Please note that the semester is over and I have submitted grades, which means that I now look back on my students with immense fondness and wholeheartedly miss them.) But I rarely reflect on the rest of my time. I spend many more hours researching and writing than I do teaching. However, clicking through research studies hardly makes for riveting blog material. Occasionally I do find fun facts in my research. For example, I found a study that researched Harry Potter fans' responses to the release of the last book in 2007. The study found that many fans demonstrated emotional and physical signs of withdrawal upon realizing that there would be no further supply of their favorite drug. Some of these signs lasted for up to 6 months. I also find fun names. Three researchers wrote an article together: Canary, Duck, and Pond. Their article was entitled "Birds of a Feather Flock Together" and was about the importance of similarity in attraction. Other authors with unfortunate names include: Goodlay and Surething. I hope they write an article together.

My main focus this semester was how we communicate emotion, and particularly how we do it nonverbally. The video below (it's short!) is a great overview of the research from psychology and communication on smiling. I have been immersed in this material all semester and find it utterly fascinating. I find that this clip encompasses all three purposes of this blog: creativity, teaching, and communicating. So, while I'm out of student stories for the time being (don't worry--summer classes start next week!), I hope to keep going on the above themes throughout the summer. Enjoy!

What if...?

I was lecturing on breakups and relational catastrophes on Tuesday, and as a class we were working through some problems with a particular theory. More or less, we were identifying the types of catastrophes that would be likely to end a relationship. A few options were thrown out, including someone coming out as gay in a heterosexual relationship, infidelity, discovery of an addiction, and so on. We suggested that early in a relationship such things as religious and political differences or strong opinions about wanting children might cause people to part ways. At this point, a student asked with an impish grin, "What if you found out that Carlos had a secret crush on Sarah Palin? What would you do?" They know me well. I told them that I would divorce him immediately for irreconcilable differences. But secretly, I'd understand. Sarah is a hottie.

Hangerover

This semester I have had a generally good group of students. They are decent writers, have interesting things to say, and act with respect and consideration. Generally. I have had some issues with plagiarism this semester, followed by a failing grade, an earnest conversation, tears (on their part), and ungranted pleas for mercy. Those issues stress me out. But they don't stress me out nearly as much as covering someone else's class.

A friend of mine was diagnosed with mono last week and has spent the last several days flat out on her back. Last Wednesday and last night I lectured in her class. God bless her, she has the WORST group of 35 students I have ever seen. Both times I walked out of class feeling like my internal organs were angry. I'm talking my spleen, my intestines, and my pancreas. I was amazed at the disregard for impression management. Usually, when you meet someone new, you try to act like a normal human being, right? Not so here.

Overheard:

-2 girls + guy profanely and graphically talking about sexual escapades (not with each other) over the weekend

-overt groans of displeasure when I did not let them out 45 minutes early and instead started into a new chapter

-A lot of sighing

Seen:

-one kid signed the attendance sheet passed around and promptly left--3 minutes into class

-20/35 heads staring at their computer screens rather than interacting

-Seven students texting under the table (which is funny, since I can see their laps, legs, and phones)

-A lot of rolling eyes

Accomplished:

-I completed lectures on twice as much material as I would with my class because EVERY question I asked was met with utter silence and blank stares. I have never felt more awkward in my life. Maybe two students participated.

-Calling out two of seven texters, only to receive blatantly evil glares of hatred. It was such an imposition to wait 3 minutes until class was out.

I have no funny or hilarious note to conclude this post. I normally try to keep my posts light and happy. I simply can't do that today, when I am pretty sure that the future of our world is held in the hand of absolute morons who lack any degree of empathy or altercentrism (other-awareness). Tomorrow I may feel differently and write about how excited I am for all my other students are learning and what delights they have been to teach. But as Anne would have it, yesterday was a Jonah day, and I have an anger hangover. A hangerover.

Sharing a Booty Smack

I recently resolved not to be a blob for the rest of graduate school. Therefore, I signed up for fitness classes at our campus gym and have been faithfully and happily attending cardio kickboxing classes, old school 80s aerobics classes, and now... Zumba. I have managed to escape running into students in a class or in the locker room, the latter of which is just about my worst nightmare. It happened once at my former university, but thankfully both parties were clothed. I do not need my student knowing what I look like without clothes on when I hand back papers with low grades. Let's be serious--I need all the credibility I can get.

But now I have a student who knows what I look like while pelvic thrusting. Because you do that in Zumba. A lot. And booty smacking motions, too. I like to think that I have some slick moves on the dance floor, and while that may be [at a wedding, with 1+ drink(s)], my preexisting confidence was shaken slightly when I walked through the door to see my student, Rachel. Now, if this had been any other student, I might have stumbled through something like, "Uh... I think I'm in the wrong class. Funny to run into you... Erm... bye" while backing quickly out the door. Rachel, however, is a doll. She's a first year theater major, fresh from high school. That should explain a lot to anyone who was ever in college. To open her last speech, she shook her butt (literally) on the stage to discuss the importance of self-expression. So, I proceeded with my original plan knowing I might look a little foolish.

As I walked into Zumba, Rachel promptly shouted for the room to hear, "OH MY GOSH! LAUREN! I am SO excited!!!" As class started, she was next to me in the lineup and, every time we turned around, she had a straight shot view of my rear as it popped, locked, rolled, shook, and (no doubt) jiggled. It didn't seem to matter, though, because she walked with me to my car asking rapid fire questions such as: how often I worked out, if I'd ever done Zumba before, if I had grading to do this afternoon, if I had dance background, if I had any tips for her outline due Tuesday, if Carlos was in town, if I wanted babies soon, and if I thought she should take time off before going to graduate school or if she should just try to make it big straight away. She made no mention of our shared experience of dancing to "Get Low." The good news is that now that we've shared a booty smack, she will now a) feel less nervous before speeches, and/or b) write me a really good review on RateMyProfessor.

The 1960s

I gave an exam yesterday and offered three bonus questions at the end. The first one, and by far the simplest, was, "What invention in the 1960s changed the dating game permanently?" Now, we have had an extended discussion about the cultural progression of courtship, flirtation, and dating. We talked a lot about how this invention changed cultural attitudes about sex, marriage, and so on. Guessed the answer yet? I would assume that you have. It's The Pill, of course. Birth control. And it DID change the game. While the majority of my students who made attempts at the bonus questions answered correctly, I got three young ladies who answered me so:

Q: What invention in the 1960s changed the dating game permanently?

A: The car and having places to go for the first time

Sigh.

To give them some credit, we did talk about the car and urbanization as formative to dating, but at the turn of the 20th century, NOT in the 1960s. I'm sure this was careless error on their part, as they did well on the rest of the exam, but I have a good time imagining the original Model T tooting around the set of Mad Men.

Those Lame Men

One of my colleagues shared a paper she was grading, with one particularly delicious phrase:

"...in lame mens terms"

She could have at least done it wrong in style and included the possessive apostrophe. I'm guessing this young lady also thinks that L, M, N, O, and P are one word: ellemennopea.