Can You Hear Me Now?
As I was walking around the classroom before the start of class taking attendance and chatting up the crowd, Margaret who sits in front of the room said, "You know, I'm really sorry that my cellphone rang the other day. I totally forgot to turn it off, and you turned to me like you wanted to kill me, like, that's strike one... strike two and you're out. I'm really sorry."
"That's OK," I replied. "Don't worry about it."
I didn't have a problem with Margaret precisely because I knew she'd feel immediate remorse. She's by all accounts a good student, and some things, you can simply let go.
Other things, however, you can't.
Carmelo is a "student" in my other class. I qualify that term because he showed up only once in the first three weeks -- the second class of the semester... and late at that. Throughout the class, I caught him looking at his cellphone. I'd assumed he was a drop when he was absent for the next two weeks, but he showed up in week four.
"You still in the class?" I called out loudly as I walked in. The inflection was somewhat similar to the one I'd have if I was asking, "You the guy who took a shit in the elevator?"
"Yeah," he said after a pause.
He daydreamed his way through the class, and was again late the next time. Great, I thought to myself, he's not dropping. Now I have to deal with this bullshit.
During that class, I distributed the midterm paper assignment. Where those go, this one was a tough one. I expected most of them the struggle, even the hardworking ones. I secretly relished the prospect of receiving an inept piece of work from Carmelo, giving him an 'F' and waiting for him to disappear from the face of my earth.
I saw him write things down when I used the blackboard. But I'd bet 100 bucks that he had no idea what was going on.
I screened a video that day. I put it on, turned down the lights, and sat near the back.
Sure enough, I saw his phone light up. He hunched over it and tried to hide behind a classmate. But from across the room, over the video, I heard the sound of his keypad. I waited five minutes to see if I'd calm down.
I didn't.
"Carmelo!" I said, and waited half a second for heads to turn, "you wanna do that later?"
I saw the backlight go out, and through the darkness, heard what sounded like the cellphone being tossed on the desk.
Did I offend him? God, I hope so.
When the video ended, I thought he looked like he was a little pissed at being called out by name.
I'm not beyond re-evaluating him if he produces work of genius. But I also wish to God that he goes to the chair to complain after we rumble a few more times.
Go on, big boy, your move.
I say all this because I just got out of a faculty senate meeting where the deans were going over the latest administrative crisis. Over the course of an hour, no fewer than 7 cellphones went off.
Seven.
SEVEN?
How does the first ringing cellphone not prompt you to turn yours off?
How does the second ringing cellphone not prompt you to turn yours off?
You and I know that each and everyone of the faculty members there would be furious if a student's cellphone went off in the middle of class.
Some things, I'll just never understand.
"That's OK," I replied. "Don't worry about it."
I didn't have a problem with Margaret precisely because I knew she'd feel immediate remorse. She's by all accounts a good student, and some things, you can simply let go.
Other things, however, you can't.
Carmelo is a "student" in my other class. I qualify that term because he showed up only once in the first three weeks -- the second class of the semester... and late at that. Throughout the class, I caught him looking at his cellphone. I'd assumed he was a drop when he was absent for the next two weeks, but he showed up in week four.
"You still in the class?" I called out loudly as I walked in. The inflection was somewhat similar to the one I'd have if I was asking, "You the guy who took a shit in the elevator?"
"Yeah," he said after a pause.
He daydreamed his way through the class, and was again late the next time. Great, I thought to myself, he's not dropping. Now I have to deal with this bullshit.
During that class, I distributed the midterm paper assignment. Where those go, this one was a tough one. I expected most of them the struggle, even the hardworking ones. I secretly relished the prospect of receiving an inept piece of work from Carmelo, giving him an 'F' and waiting for him to disappear from the face of my earth.
I saw him write things down when I used the blackboard. But I'd bet 100 bucks that he had no idea what was going on.
I screened a video that day. I put it on, turned down the lights, and sat near the back.
Sure enough, I saw his phone light up. He hunched over it and tried to hide behind a classmate. But from across the room, over the video, I heard the sound of his keypad. I waited five minutes to see if I'd calm down.
I didn't.
"Carmelo!" I said, and waited half a second for heads to turn, "you wanna do that later?"
I saw the backlight go out, and through the darkness, heard what sounded like the cellphone being tossed on the desk.
Did I offend him? God, I hope so.
When the video ended, I thought he looked like he was a little pissed at being called out by name.
I'm not beyond re-evaluating him if he produces work of genius. But I also wish to God that he goes to the chair to complain after we rumble a few more times.
Go on, big boy, your move.
I say all this because I just got out of a faculty senate meeting where the deans were going over the latest administrative crisis. Over the course of an hour, no fewer than 7 cellphones went off.
Seven.
SEVEN?
How does the first ringing cellphone not prompt you to turn yours off?
How does the second ringing cellphone not prompt you to turn yours off?
You and I know that each and everyone of the faculty members there would be furious if a student's cellphone went off in the middle of class.
Some things, I'll just never understand.
posted by Teach | 5:27 PM
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