Friday, 23 March 2007

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And Yet, I Still Miss Teaching A slightly redacted version of my favorite student complaint ever: My Teacher, I appreciate you taking your inconvenience to instruct us but I really had some problems in your class and I would like to explain them to you now. Every day I wanted to discuss with you about the way you grade my papers and the way you teach the class, but I could not because the things you say in class and your words disturb me so much I can not. You make me completely uncomfortable with the little things you say in the class like how you talk about television or how you talk about when you are grading our papers and trying to be fair. You do not seem to care about our grades only that they are up to your too high standards and I can not talk to you because you make me completely uncomfortable. For example, you say you will talk to us about our grades but you really will not because of how uncomfortable you make me feel with your words and what you say. I will plan to contest the grade you have given me in this class when I get it because I know it will be much higher with any other teacher. I am a very religious man and you are not a bad person but you do not choose your words with enough care like a teacher should. You try to be objective and the very attempt becomes your flaw because you try so hard to grade fairly and comment wisely that you become biased to your own ideas. You criticize our writings because we are college students and young but do not realize that you offend most of us when you do this. I am always offended when I go to your class and have been on many occasions but I never tell you of my offense because you make me completely uncomfortable so I never say a word. You like to lead discussions and that is bad because it is the entire means by which we learn but we do not know what you want from us on our papers. I have honestly no idea what I learned from you in this class because so much time was spent discussing the tiny details in the passages in the book and so if I learned anything it is how to read things in too much detail. I could have read books in too much detail on my own but that is not what I came to college to do because I already know how to read and I would have told you this but you make me completely uncomfortable with your words so I never said a word. By doing this you give us no guidance on our papers. I thought it was lame that you decided to show a movie and a cop out because you chose not to give us any instruction. I know that...
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You Make Me Uncomfortable with Your Poetic Words Many people noted that the best thing about that post was the poetry it inspired. I agree. It would be a shame to let it die a quiet death in the comment section. eb started us off: Those lips that your own mouth did move Breathed forth the sound that said "I grade," To me that anguished to improve. But when I heard your words conveyed Straight in my heart discomfort rose, Shaking that pen that ever strong Was used in writing graceful prose, And taught it things it knew all wrong. "I grade" you garbled without cease And fouled it as rotting pomes Doth foul a bunch, which, like old grease From kitchen to dump is cast from homes. "I grade" you thwarted with a care That ruined your course, saying, "as fair..." Rich quickly followed suit: Once within a classroom dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of a voice gently rapping, rapping about some writing chore. `'Tis the TA,' I muttered, `rapping about some writing chore— Only this, and nothing more.' [...] Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `by Email, truly your instruction I deplore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently your voice flapping, And incessant mapping, mapping of your lesson plans galore That you make me quite uncomfortable—here I opened wide the door;— For complaints and nothing more. [...] In your class I have been guessing, but no syllable expressing To the incessent voice now burned into my brainstem's core; More and more I sat divining, with my head slackly reclining On how to get the grade that I could have gloated o'er That GPA-gainful grade that I could be gloating o'er But my marks, they are poor. [...] `Instructor!' said I, `thing of evil!—grader still, though but a devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God that I adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the final grading, I shall clasp a higher rating then the one I had before— Or the head of your department shall hear of it galore— Quoth the TA, `Nevermore.' And again: This Is Just To Say I have wasted the brain cells that were in my head-box and which you were probably training to write things Forgive me I do not understand so tired and I want a better grade AHCUAH chimed in: I appreciate you taking your inconvenience to instruct us but I really had some problems in your class and I would like to explain them to you now. Every day I wanted to discuss with you about the way you grade my papers and the way you teach the class, but I could not because the things you say in class and your words disturb me so much I can not. You make me completely uncomfortable with the little things you...

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