What's Next?

As I sit here with five folders in front of me, facing the afternoon's work, I am struggling as usual with how to assess the work of each student. Because I teach small classes, I know each student fairly well; that's good, and that's bad. If I could give a good multiple choice test for writing, have a standard correction sheet, and grade accordingly, they would each feel they were treated fairly. In writing, however, it's different. Each student begins the semester with their own level of expertise. For some , the work in my class challenges that level; for some, it's a breeze. The B that one student struggles for is the one another student earns with no work at all. I try to challenge good students and grade with some knowledge of each student's abilities, but it still becomes a chore at the end of the semester. And there's the expectations. They got As and Bs in high school--why not in college? Why are commas important here when they weren't in high s...

I went to the mailbox. I looked. The memo did not promise me anything. It only told me I could make an appointment for an interview next month. So it looks as though I'll be waiting another 30 days or so to find out if I have a job next year. Life goes on. As this process becomes more drawn out, I find myself less and less concerned with it. I keep reminding myself that I am a professional; that I am experienced; that I know how to keep students learning and growing. Writing is my existence, and I try to make it their existence, too, but I can only sell some, not all. They are going to survive in a different world than the one I conquered. All I can do is accept their ways and hang on. At least until May. Mrs. B

The word is out. Check your mailbox by the end of the day to find out if you have a job next year. Only 5 more hours to wait. Being a temporary faculty member is cool most of the time. My colleagues, tenure-track or not, all treat me well, and they are good people to have on hand. With years of experience, t hey have an answer for every question I can pose. But in March and April, when the University begins to look at temporary teaching lines and gets out the budgetary ax, it's not so cool. At my age, you'd think I could get over it. I have had three really steady, long-term jobs in my life, and I knew this would not be one of them. Given my experience and ability, I would earn more pay almost anywhere else, except that I wouldn't have the perks: large chunks of time for myself, my writing, and my family. But every year, I get that "poor me" sense of insecurity, and I start reading the help wanted ads again. Hunh - like I could pick a job out of the help wanted ad...