I participated in a short-listing meeting yesterday for a part time post coming up at Naval City University. This is the first time I have witnessed, let alone been part of, this kind of thing, and, despite now being in an open-ended post, I found the whole process a painful experience. It was a reminder to me (as if I needed one!) of how many applications I sent before I got shortlisted for my job twelve months ago, and how lucky I am to have it.
So many highly qualified people (some much better qualified in terms of publications than I am) who could not be shortlisted because they didn't quite fit the detail of what the department was looking for, or because, whilst they had books /articles forthcoming, these were not yet in press whereas those shortlisted had items out already. Of course, this is quite right - the person hired has to 'fit the bill' in more ways than one, and research output matters, especially in the run up to REF.
The process has made me approach my research with renewed energy, if only to prove to myself that I deserve the job I have. I certainly didn't get it by any favouritism or favour (I didn't know anyone who worked here before I was offered the job, so I got it on the merits of my application and interview) but I still have to pinch myself sometimes when I remember the position I was in at this time last year - I'd almost given up hope of getting a salaried academic post, having not made it onto a shortlist for a job I had been doing for much less money for 3 years.
I am grateful that, somehow, I got on to the list of candidates for inteview for this job (it was this time last year I was on my way down to the interview) and that I managed to give a presentation and interview that convinced the School to employ me. It was the first permanent job for which I had been shortlisted, and I couldn't quite believe it when I was offered the job. (I think I actually said, "Really?" to the Head of School when he phoned me.) I must continue to work hard to make sure I don't let them down.
Showing posts with label where I work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label where I work. Show all posts
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Beautiful Beliefs (5)
I believe that...
My colleagues and I were obliged to attend a staff development event this week in order to prepare us for the challenges of the next academic year. In its wisdom, the university has decided that 2012-13 is the year to introduce a radical overhaul of the academic structure and curriculum, despite the upheaval and uncertainty coming our way as a result of the government’s raising of tuition fees for students. For those who are not aware of this, the amount a degree costs is not changing; what is changing is the proportion of that cost borne by the student themselves instead of government funding. Many students will not appreciate this subtle difference and will insist on ‘more for their money’ since they are paying more. This staff development event was to alert us to the changes coming and to tell us about other university developments alongside changes brought about by the new curriculum.
It was not a successful day from the perspective of most academic staff. We were told things we already knew, and we were not given the opportunity to ask questions regarding what we did not or to comment on management plans. It did little to raise staff morale after what has been a very difficult transitional year. I am new to the department this year, and the strain of the new curriculum is already taking a toll. I imagine that my colleagues who have been dealing with this for much longer than I have must feel terribly ground down.
Faculty management, throughout the day, told us that in the future we must listen to the students, ask for their feedback, respond to their feedback, help them set goals for the future, and – importantly – make sure they know that we care. What was shockingly poor about this address was that it implied that we were not already doing those things; that up to this point, we have not cared about our students, their degree or their circumstances. At no point did anyone say, ‘You’ve all done a great job this year. Keep it up!’.
No one came away from the day feeling motivated, appreciated or looking forward to the future or any more prepared than they were before this compulsory event. Many of my colleagues are looking for jobs elsewhere. But they wouldn’t be if they felt that they were heard, appreciated, supported in their academic endeavours. They (we) work very hard for the students, and to keep up with research despite a struggle for institutional support. A ‘well done’ or ‘keep it up’ or ‘thank you for all your efforts’ would have gone a very long way.
This is not a post to big up my own efforts though, and ‘hard working’ doesn’t only apply to academics! I miss the friendly and brilliant admin support that we had at my previous institution, and realise that whilst I never took this support entirely for granted, I didn't fully appreciate how much the undergrad secretaries did for tutors above and beyond what happens elsewhere. Here at Naval City University, the cleaners come into our offices to empty the bins and vacuum the floor. I appreciate that I no longer have to empty my own bin (office dustbins were neither supplied nor empied at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison) and that at least once a week my carpet is fluff-free.
However small or large the task, acknowledging others' efforts can make a big difference. Say thank you to your mum or dad or other loved ones (thank you to the Physio for making me dinner!); to the administrator, the cleaner, the bus driver, the waiter, the nurse, teacher, cashier, librarian, etc., etc., etc.
Most people who deserve acknowledgement do not go out of their way to seek it - they just get on with their tasks. That does not mean they shouldn’t get it.
This post is connected to Amy's Beautiful Belief's project.
It is easy to take hard working people for granted, but we shouldn’t!
My colleagues and I were obliged to attend a staff development event this week in order to prepare us for the challenges of the next academic year. In its wisdom, the university has decided that 2012-13 is the year to introduce a radical overhaul of the academic structure and curriculum, despite the upheaval and uncertainty coming our way as a result of the government’s raising of tuition fees for students. For those who are not aware of this, the amount a degree costs is not changing; what is changing is the proportion of that cost borne by the student themselves instead of government funding. Many students will not appreciate this subtle difference and will insist on ‘more for their money’ since they are paying more. This staff development event was to alert us to the changes coming and to tell us about other university developments alongside changes brought about by the new curriculum.
It was not a successful day from the perspective of most academic staff. We were told things we already knew, and we were not given the opportunity to ask questions regarding what we did not or to comment on management plans. It did little to raise staff morale after what has been a very difficult transitional year. I am new to the department this year, and the strain of the new curriculum is already taking a toll. I imagine that my colleagues who have been dealing with this for much longer than I have must feel terribly ground down.
Faculty management, throughout the day, told us that in the future we must listen to the students, ask for their feedback, respond to their feedback, help them set goals for the future, and – importantly – make sure they know that we care. What was shockingly poor about this address was that it implied that we were not already doing those things; that up to this point, we have not cared about our students, their degree or their circumstances. At no point did anyone say, ‘You’ve all done a great job this year. Keep it up!’.
No one came away from the day feeling motivated, appreciated or looking forward to the future or any more prepared than they were before this compulsory event. Many of my colleagues are looking for jobs elsewhere. But they wouldn’t be if they felt that they were heard, appreciated, supported in their academic endeavours. They (we) work very hard for the students, and to keep up with research despite a struggle for institutional support. A ‘well done’ or ‘keep it up’ or ‘thank you for all your efforts’ would have gone a very long way.
This is not a post to big up my own efforts though, and ‘hard working’ doesn’t only apply to academics! I miss the friendly and brilliant admin support that we had at my previous institution, and realise that whilst I never took this support entirely for granted, I didn't fully appreciate how much the undergrad secretaries did for tutors above and beyond what happens elsewhere. Here at Naval City University, the cleaners come into our offices to empty the bins and vacuum the floor. I appreciate that I no longer have to empty my own bin (office dustbins were neither supplied nor empied at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison) and that at least once a week my carpet is fluff-free.
However small or large the task, acknowledging others' efforts can make a big difference. Say thank you to your mum or dad or other loved ones (thank you to the Physio for making me dinner!); to the administrator, the cleaner, the bus driver, the waiter, the nurse, teacher, cashier, librarian, etc., etc., etc.
Most people who deserve acknowledgement do not go out of their way to seek it - they just get on with their tasks. That does not mean they shouldn’t get it.
This post is connected to Amy's Beautiful Belief's project.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Musings on marking
'It's strange,' said the Physio, 'because the rest of the time you are such a nice, kind person. But when you are marking, you just won't give your students the benefit of the doubt'.
I suppose this is true. Although if I'm inclined towards a mark of 59% and there’s half a possibility it could become a 60%, then I’ll give 60%. (This would move the students up from 2.2 into the 2.1 bracket). I did this with a dissertation last week. In fact, I had to argue the second marker up to 60%. But with my current first year students, who are struggling to get out of the 40s, no, I'm not inclined to magic them up to 50%. For some of them, I struggle to give a passing mark of 40%. And, unlike some other institutions, there is no pressure at Naval City University to pass a failing student. If they fail, then it's unfortunate, but they do fail.
I want them to do well. And I am fully prepared to go out of my way to help them, if they seek help. I have written in to the unit I am co-ordinating this semester three seminars on approaching different parts of the exam so that when they are finally assessed, they have already had some formative feedback (the unit mark is based wholly on one examination – this would not have been my choice of assessment, but I inherited the unit). So, offer help, I will. But I don’t think that giving students good marks for poor work will help them. I actually think that picking them up on poor spelling, grammar, punctuation and paragraphing, and on woolly thinking and sloppy argument, whilst they are in the first year and their marks don't count, is the kindest thing I can do. They might then learn from their mistakes in time to put them right before the marks really do start to count. I think they have been allowed to 'get away with' such errors for too long at school, and in allowing this, their schools (and the exam boards at GCSE and A level) have let them down very badly. I don't intend to let them down in this way, if I can help it.
Naval City University gives students a compulsory unit in Study Skills for University in which we teach them how to approach writing essays, but it is a unit some students do not take seriously. They think they already know how to do it because they got a B for A level (in some cases an A!). Many of those students didn't pass the unit.
I don't expect students to be thinking and writing at first class university level when they first arrive – those are skills they develop throughout their three years at university – but they should be able to write coherent sentences. The students whose essays I fail can't do this. They really struggle to express themselves. And now they are being marked on the 'whole piece of work' – what and how they write – rather than what I think they ought to be trying to say, their marks have fallen substantially, and many of them really struggle to understand why.
On one level, it might be considered kind of me to massage their marks so they don’t fail. But I think this sort of 'kindness' is why so many of them are genuinely surprised – and distressed – by their low marks. If they get good marks for poor work, they won't try to improve it. I'm sure that they are bright young people, but they need to learn how to express their ideas coherently, not just in order to get a 2.1 degree, but so that after university they can make themselves clearly understood, present a coherent argument at business meetings, or – if they go into teaching – teach children how to write well to avoid perpetuating this cycle.
Giving a fair, but sometimes low, mark for their work and giving feedback explaining how to do it better is the only way to encourage improvement. University is about more than just producing the 'right answer' to get the top marks, and I think I would be failing in my job if I don't at least try to help them to think, and express themselves, more clearly.
I suppose this is true. Although if I'm inclined towards a mark of 59% and there’s half a possibility it could become a 60%, then I’ll give 60%. (This would move the students up from 2.2 into the 2.1 bracket). I did this with a dissertation last week. In fact, I had to argue the second marker up to 60%. But with my current first year students, who are struggling to get out of the 40s, no, I'm not inclined to magic them up to 50%. For some of them, I struggle to give a passing mark of 40%. And, unlike some other institutions, there is no pressure at Naval City University to pass a failing student. If they fail, then it's unfortunate, but they do fail.
I want them to do well. And I am fully prepared to go out of my way to help them, if they seek help. I have written in to the unit I am co-ordinating this semester three seminars on approaching different parts of the exam so that when they are finally assessed, they have already had some formative feedback (the unit mark is based wholly on one examination – this would not have been my choice of assessment, but I inherited the unit). So, offer help, I will. But I don’t think that giving students good marks for poor work will help them. I actually think that picking them up on poor spelling, grammar, punctuation and paragraphing, and on woolly thinking and sloppy argument, whilst they are in the first year and their marks don't count, is the kindest thing I can do. They might then learn from their mistakes in time to put them right before the marks really do start to count. I think they have been allowed to 'get away with' such errors for too long at school, and in allowing this, their schools (and the exam boards at GCSE and A level) have let them down very badly. I don't intend to let them down in this way, if I can help it.
Naval City University gives students a compulsory unit in Study Skills for University in which we teach them how to approach writing essays, but it is a unit some students do not take seriously. They think they already know how to do it because they got a B for A level (in some cases an A!). Many of those students didn't pass the unit.
I don't expect students to be thinking and writing at first class university level when they first arrive – those are skills they develop throughout their three years at university – but they should be able to write coherent sentences. The students whose essays I fail can't do this. They really struggle to express themselves. And now they are being marked on the 'whole piece of work' – what and how they write – rather than what I think they ought to be trying to say, their marks have fallen substantially, and many of them really struggle to understand why.
On one level, it might be considered kind of me to massage their marks so they don’t fail. But I think this sort of 'kindness' is why so many of them are genuinely surprised – and distressed – by their low marks. If they get good marks for poor work, they won't try to improve it. I'm sure that they are bright young people, but they need to learn how to express their ideas coherently, not just in order to get a 2.1 degree, but so that after university they can make themselves clearly understood, present a coherent argument at business meetings, or – if they go into teaching – teach children how to write well to avoid perpetuating this cycle.
Giving a fair, but sometimes low, mark for their work and giving feedback explaining how to do it better is the only way to encourage improvement. University is about more than just producing the 'right answer' to get the top marks, and I think I would be failing in my job if I don't at least try to help them to think, and express themselves, more clearly.
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Seeing differently 1: making your own way
As Christmas and then the new year approaches (one of my students recently said that 2010 sounded scarily futuristic, and she may be right), this is the first of a few posts on seeing differently.
This one began as an email to a friend responding to his Facebook status update on feeling ‘behind’ in comparison to his colleagues.
I wanted to say something comforting in a comment his update but all I could think of was that I am now 2+ yrs post-thesis submission and don't think I will ever ‘catch up’ with some of my friends who have only just finished theirs, and already have a couple of articles, or book chapters and a variety of editing experience. But I realised that this sort of side glancing, side-swiping at ourselves – that others are making better, faster progress – is a normal part of academic life, and we have to find ways not to let it get us so far down that we only see 'failure' when we look at other people, rather than a track along which to progress.
The only way forward is to look forward in our own 'track' and not look sideways at other people's. So I’m adopting a new attitude: what's the next thing *I* can achieve? Finishing my marking is a thing off the 'to do' list (and counts in experience) but isn't a positive goal in my career progress track. So, now I’m aiming to finish an article I was nearly done with in the summer and then sending it to a journal. Voila, article 'under consideration' on my cv. Then on to writing my book proposal. I have written on so many job applications that I am ‘working on’ this, now it’s time to really do it. And not just work on it, but get it done and on its way to an academic press. And then I’m writing a conference paper which I can turn into an article. That will be new research, and I hope it will remind me how much I like my research topics and texts.
I know I can’t do all of this at once. And, yes, I do have to do my marking (about 130-140 essays) over the Christmas holidays. But since I managed to finish a big project this term, along with my heavy teaching commitments, I’m starting to think that I might be able to do it. But I won’t if I keep letting other people’s achievements hold me back. So from now on, in time for the New Year, I’m going to start seeing my work differently.
This one began as an email to a friend responding to his Facebook status update on feeling ‘behind’ in comparison to his colleagues.
I wanted to say something comforting in a comment his update but all I could think of was that I am now 2+ yrs post-thesis submission and don't think I will ever ‘catch up’ with some of my friends who have only just finished theirs, and already have a couple of articles, or book chapters and a variety of editing experience. But I realised that this sort of side glancing, side-swiping at ourselves – that others are making better, faster progress – is a normal part of academic life, and we have to find ways not to let it get us so far down that we only see 'failure' when we look at other people, rather than a track along which to progress.
The only way forward is to look forward in our own 'track' and not look sideways at other people's. So I’m adopting a new attitude: what's the next thing *I* can achieve? Finishing my marking is a thing off the 'to do' list (and counts in experience) but isn't a positive goal in my career progress track. So, now I’m aiming to finish an article I was nearly done with in the summer and then sending it to a journal. Voila, article 'under consideration' on my cv. Then on to writing my book proposal. I have written on so many job applications that I am ‘working on’ this, now it’s time to really do it. And not just work on it, but get it done and on its way to an academic press. And then I’m writing a conference paper which I can turn into an article. That will be new research, and I hope it will remind me how much I like my research topics and texts.
I know I can’t do all of this at once. And, yes, I do have to do my marking (about 130-140 essays) over the Christmas holidays. But since I managed to finish a big project this term, along with my heavy teaching commitments, I’m starting to think that I might be able to do it. But I won’t if I keep letting other people’s achievements hold me back. So from now on, in time for the New Year, I’m going to start seeing my work differently.
Saturday, 5 December 2009
Building up to Christmas.
Ok. I admit it. I am now starting to get excited about Christmas. I have to keep a lid on this, because I have a ridiculous amount of work to do between now and the end of term next week, but Christmas is definitely coming, and I don't mind.
I mind in October, when I can't find a birthday card in the shops for Christmas cards in the way.
I mind when adverts for Christmas presents take over my TV.
I mind when a major department store has its 'Christmas sale' at the beginning of November.
But it is now December, it's nearly the end of term, and the frosty winter weather (when it is not raining cats and dogs) and darker evenings make the delicate Christmas lights in the city centre twinkle just enough to suggest some magic for the season. I think the City where the Castle is also a Prison do a very good job with their decorations.
That isn't to say I'm entirely ready for Christmas. I'm not. But I have now got a little 'Bag o' Christmas' where I'm putting the Christmas cards and presents I have already bought - so I know what I've got, where it is, and for whom I have still to buy a gift. And as my little 'Bag o' Christmas' fills up, I realise I'm really looking forward to Christmas this year (despite the fact I will have 140 assignments to mark over the festive period). I'm even playing Christmas music as I'm writing this!
I was doing some reading in the Red Coffee Chain shop this afternoon, and the poor staff didn't get a break for the 3 hours I was there. They are very efficient, but the queue never seemed to get any shorter. Outside I could see people struggling their way around town with big bags of shopping, and they would come into Red Coffee Chain and show each other presents for mutual friends. There was a fair amount of pushing and jostling going on too - that's one part of the build up to Christmas that I don't enjoy. It's not about getting to the counter first, people. It's about peace and goodwill towards all people. And the lady in front of me in the till queue at the shop that is not 'just a shop' where I had stopped in for milk and vegetables looked both surprised and grateful when I offered to steady her precariously balanced basket while she unloaded it.
There is no need to be grumpy with the random passer by who is also trying to get their shopping done. In fact, a bit of co-operation would make everyone's Christmas shopping experience a little more, well..., Christmassy!
I mind in October, when I can't find a birthday card in the shops for Christmas cards in the way.
I mind when adverts for Christmas presents take over my TV.
I mind when a major department store has its 'Christmas sale' at the beginning of November.
But it is now December, it's nearly the end of term, and the frosty winter weather (when it is not raining cats and dogs) and darker evenings make the delicate Christmas lights in the city centre twinkle just enough to suggest some magic for the season. I think the City where the Castle is also a Prison do a very good job with their decorations.
That isn't to say I'm entirely ready for Christmas. I'm not. But I have now got a little 'Bag o' Christmas' where I'm putting the Christmas cards and presents I have already bought - so I know what I've got, where it is, and for whom I have still to buy a gift. And as my little 'Bag o' Christmas' fills up, I realise I'm really looking forward to Christmas this year (despite the fact I will have 140 assignments to mark over the festive period). I'm even playing Christmas music as I'm writing this!
I was doing some reading in the Red Coffee Chain shop this afternoon, and the poor staff didn't get a break for the 3 hours I was there. They are very efficient, but the queue never seemed to get any shorter. Outside I could see people struggling their way around town with big bags of shopping, and they would come into Red Coffee Chain and show each other presents for mutual friends. There was a fair amount of pushing and jostling going on too - that's one part of the build up to Christmas that I don't enjoy. It's not about getting to the counter first, people. It's about peace and goodwill towards all people. And the lady in front of me in the till queue at the shop that is not 'just a shop' where I had stopped in for milk and vegetables looked both surprised and grateful when I offered to steady her precariously balanced basket while she unloaded it.
There is no need to be grumpy with the random passer by who is also trying to get their shopping done. In fact, a bit of co-operation would make everyone's Christmas shopping experience a little more, well..., Christmassy!
Friday, 27 November 2009
Phew
Having spent a little time (whilst washing my hair) yesterday planning exactly what I was going to say to the Department administrator / HoD / HR / Payroll today if I did not get paid, I checked my account this morning, and actually - to my surprise - found money in it.
Payment. Finally.
I'm relieved.
I don't like using my cross voice....
Payment. Finally.
I'm relieved.
I don't like using my cross voice....
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Essay questions
My Shakespeare students have essays due at the end of term. The course convenor set the essay questions - they have a choice of about 12 - and I think they are really interesting and thought provoking questions. The students do not, at this stage, have the option of making up their own questions, so we make sure they are offered a variety of topics. Nevertheless, I have never had so many students email me to ask if they can change the questions as I have had this year on this course.
In some ways I might consider this a good thing - students thinking about ways in which they could talk about the texts, pursuing their own interests. However, most of the changes they want to make are ways of making the questions we have set easier. They are not pursuing new, interesting areas of research. Now, these are final year students. On this course they only write one essay and then have an exam at the end of the year. The essay questions are meant to be challenging. I am happy to look over my students' plans, and to discuss their possible approaches to the questions with them, but - even if I could, and I can't (I don't have the authority to do so) - I am not prepared to make the questions easier.
And I truly don't believe I would be doing my students any favours if I did.
In some ways I might consider this a good thing - students thinking about ways in which they could talk about the texts, pursuing their own interests. However, most of the changes they want to make are ways of making the questions we have set easier. They are not pursuing new, interesting areas of research. Now, these are final year students. On this course they only write one essay and then have an exam at the end of the year. The essay questions are meant to be challenging. I am happy to look over my students' plans, and to discuss their possible approaches to the questions with them, but - even if I could, and I can't (I don't have the authority to do so) - I am not prepared to make the questions easier.
And I truly don't believe I would be doing my students any favours if I did.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Matters of Urgency
Dear Dept. Administrator,
Thank you for the email you forwarded to me yesterday. Prompted to do so by the red exclamation mark which usually denotes urgency regarding emails, I read this at my earliest opportunity. I am so glad that, four weeks into the term, my attention has been urgently drawn to all of the wonderful services the campus travel agent can provide for staff.
Unfortunately, I cannot afford to take advantage of these services, because I still do not have a contract, and will therefore not be paid until the end of next month at the earliest. Unless the travel agent facilities are able to cover funding me for my rent, phone, electricity and council tax bills, which I see from their multi-font poster attachment they do not, I will, for the moment, not be running over to their offices in any kind of hurry.
I would suggest that the request of the travel agent to circulate their promotional poster (which does not have a time limit on it) is not actually a matter of urgency, whatever the little red exclamation mark may tell you, or me. The lack of university network access, library borrowing rights and bill paying facilities that I and the other TAs are currently experiencing is, however, worthy of a little red exclamation mark. Please.
Thank you for the email you forwarded to me yesterday. Prompted to do so by the red exclamation mark which usually denotes urgency regarding emails, I read this at my earliest opportunity. I am so glad that, four weeks into the term, my attention has been urgently drawn to all of the wonderful services the campus travel agent can provide for staff.
Unfortunately, I cannot afford to take advantage of these services, because I still do not have a contract, and will therefore not be paid until the end of next month at the earliest. Unless the travel agent facilities are able to cover funding me for my rent, phone, electricity and council tax bills, which I see from their multi-font poster attachment they do not, I will, for the moment, not be running over to their offices in any kind of hurry.
I would suggest that the request of the travel agent to circulate their promotional poster (which does not have a time limit on it) is not actually a matter of urgency, whatever the little red exclamation mark may tell you, or me. The lack of university network access, library borrowing rights and bill paying facilities that I and the other TAs are currently experiencing is, however, worthy of a little red exclamation mark. Please.
Monday, 28 September 2009
Preparation
Teaching starts next week, and in the first 10 week term, I'm giving 6 lectures. But trying to manage my time and get started on one or more of these is proving difficult.
'Why?', you ask.
Because although teaching starts next week, I do not yet have a contract. Not a problem for preparation, in and of itself, you might say. And you'd be right. Although it will undoubtedly mean that I am not going to get paid in October, this seems to be standard for teaching assistants now - we go to the bottom of the contracts pile - and not getting paid at the end of the first month of teaching is not new to me. It's a problem I can grumble about, and it might affect my ability to pay bills, but it doesn't actually affect my getting organised preparation.
Not having a contract does, however, mean I also cannot have a library card. This is because the university prioritises money over teaching and research, and cut me off at the end of my last 9month teaching contract. (You may not borrow books or use the e-resources off campus if you are not paying money to or being paid money by the university.) Officially, then, I can have a library card from the start of my teaching contract, but not before. So I can start preparing for teaching as long as I do it after I've started.
The very helpful lady in the library said she could bypass the systems for me (by which the library are notified by HR that I exist after I have signed and returned my contract) if I bring my contract to the library enquiry desk.
I would do this. But I don't yet have a contract. And I am unlikely to have one before the start of next week - last year I didn't have one until 2 or 3 weeks into the term. So if that's anything to go by (and if my friends hadn't today offered me space on their library cards), I could probably start preparing for my Monday lectures in week 4 and week 5 in the middle of week 4.
Helpful, eh?
'Why?', you ask.
Because although teaching starts next week, I do not yet have a contract. Not a problem for preparation, in and of itself, you might say. And you'd be right. Although it will undoubtedly mean that I am not going to get paid in October, this seems to be standard for teaching assistants now - we go to the bottom of the contracts pile - and not getting paid at the end of the first month of teaching is not new to me. It's a problem I can grumble about, and it might affect my ability to pay bills, but it doesn't actually affect my getting organised preparation.
Not having a contract does, however, mean I also cannot have a library card. This is because the university prioritises money over teaching and research, and cut me off at the end of my last 9month teaching contract. (You may not borrow books or use the e-resources off campus if you are not paying money to or being paid money by the university.) Officially, then, I can have a library card from the start of my teaching contract, but not before. So I can start preparing for teaching as long as I do it after I've started.
The very helpful lady in the library said she could bypass the systems for me (by which the library are notified by HR that I exist after I have signed and returned my contract) if I bring my contract to the library enquiry desk.
I would do this. But I don't yet have a contract. And I am unlikely to have one before the start of next week - last year I didn't have one until 2 or 3 weeks into the term. So if that's anything to go by (and if my friends hadn't today offered me space on their library cards), I could probably start preparing for my Monday lectures in week 4 and week 5 in the middle of week 4.
Helpful, eh?
Friday, 11 September 2009
Time Out
The Physio and I are going on holiday together next week - a whole week of holiday rather than a long weekend snatched away from work-time. We're going to spend some time in Festival City and in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss. I'm quite excited to be going there with the Physio; he's already shown me a lot of his favourite places, and I'm looking forward to sharing this place that I love with him. I was very happy living there, and there are lots of places I want to show him - calm places, beautiful places, slightly quirky places. I am a little nervous though: things will have changed there since I last visited. I hope it isn't too different. I really hope he likes it too.
I'm also looking forward to taking a week off work. The last two weeks at my admin job have been quite difficult. The admin manager has changed the programmes for which some of us are responsible so that now, in the last 3 weeks of my position there, I'm learning new processes and getting to grips with new courses. One is only new to me, the other is new to the Faculty. For the second, no one in the office knows how it works. The transfer from the other Faculty was poorly organised, and there has been no sensible hand over from office to office - at least not to those actually doing the administration. I discovered after a few days of frantically trying to track down information that my manager (and his manager) knew where some of that information was, they had just failed to pass that information on to me.
Added to this, the rearrangement of responsibilities has led to some ill-feeling in the office amongst my fellow administrators (not aimed at me, because I am temporary). This is largely due to very poor management. I would suggest that inventing a meeting to go to, and saying "sort this out amongst yourselves" is not really the best management plan when you already know the issue is contentious. No one wants to make difficult or unpopular decisions, but doing that - "sorting it out" - is why the manager is paid significantly more than we are. This ill-feeling is taking over the office. The team-work and co-operation of getting through the Exam Boards seems to be falling away. It is not a happy office any more.
I find dealing with stressful atmospheres - especially over things which need not be stressful - very difficult. I like my world to be a calmer place. At lunchtime yesterday I had planned to do some research related reading, but after a very busy morning combined with the tension in the office I couldn't focus through the brain-fog. Instead I sat staring into space, not really thinking about anything. I used to have that kind of calm time out at yoga classes (I must find some more!), where I could just focus on stretching and breathing to relax. It was quite odd to find that I could create that 'time out' space without the yoga class - and without actually trying. And I went back to the office feeling much calmer and managed to get a lot done in the afternoon. Still, I am looking forward to not being there next week. Hopefully, by the time I get back the busy-ness of the start of term will force harmony upon my colleagues.
Term is soon starting at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison, too, and I have been given a lot of teaching (for which I am very grateful - I shouldn't have to do admin on top of teaching to pay my bills this year). It is going to be another busy year, and before it starts taking time out to spend with the Physio in a place that I love seems like an ideal way to charge my batteries.
I'm also looking forward to taking a week off work. The last two weeks at my admin job have been quite difficult. The admin manager has changed the programmes for which some of us are responsible so that now, in the last 3 weeks of my position there, I'm learning new processes and getting to grips with new courses. One is only new to me, the other is new to the Faculty. For the second, no one in the office knows how it works. The transfer from the other Faculty was poorly organised, and there has been no sensible hand over from office to office - at least not to those actually doing the administration. I discovered after a few days of frantically trying to track down information that my manager (and his manager) knew where some of that information was, they had just failed to pass that information on to me.
Added to this, the rearrangement of responsibilities has led to some ill-feeling in the office amongst my fellow administrators (not aimed at me, because I am temporary). This is largely due to very poor management. I would suggest that inventing a meeting to go to, and saying "sort this out amongst yourselves" is not really the best management plan when you already know the issue is contentious. No one wants to make difficult or unpopular decisions, but doing that - "sorting it out" - is why the manager is paid significantly more than we are. This ill-feeling is taking over the office. The team-work and co-operation of getting through the Exam Boards seems to be falling away. It is not a happy office any more.
I find dealing with stressful atmospheres - especially over things which need not be stressful - very difficult. I like my world to be a calmer place. At lunchtime yesterday I had planned to do some research related reading, but after a very busy morning combined with the tension in the office I couldn't focus through the brain-fog. Instead I sat staring into space, not really thinking about anything. I used to have that kind of calm time out at yoga classes (I must find some more!), where I could just focus on stretching and breathing to relax. It was quite odd to find that I could create that 'time out' space without the yoga class - and without actually trying. And I went back to the office feeling much calmer and managed to get a lot done in the afternoon. Still, I am looking forward to not being there next week. Hopefully, by the time I get back the busy-ness of the start of term will force harmony upon my colleagues.
Term is soon starting at the University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison, too, and I have been given a lot of teaching (for which I am very grateful - I shouldn't have to do admin on top of teaching to pay my bills this year). It is going to be another busy year, and before it starts taking time out to spend with the Physio in a place that I love seems like an ideal way to charge my batteries.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Today at work I received a bulk mailing email containing this text:
"A number of personal items have been sent to the Mailroom recently in University PPI envelopes. Please note that PPI envelopes are to be used for business purposes only and MUST NOT be used for personal mail. Any personal mail found in PPI envelopes will be returned to you and your head of department may be informed. Thank you."
And I find myself wondering several things: how do the mailroom know that it's personal mail? How would they know to whom specifically it should be returned? And what terrible fate would await me if the headmaster - no, wait - Head of Department were to be informed?
The only answer to the first two questions - if the mailroom are sure that it's personal mail sent in university prepaid envelopes - is that they open the outgoing mail. I'm not sure that's entirely legal (but do correct me if I'm wrong, here). Nevertheless, their choice of the verb 'found' in this message - "any personal mail found in PPI envelopes" - implies that they do indeed open mail to find such things.
Well, this is possibly a poor choice of words on their part. And I'm pretty sure that they don't open all the mail that goes through the postroom. If they do, they have far too much time on their hands, and cutting down the number of staff there might well pay for the odd personal letter that goes through the system. But if they don't open all the mail, then really, the Powers That Be (and Complain) in the mailroom are just guessing that it's personal mail. And their policy of returning it to the sender could result in significant delays in important communication to, for example, external examiners who choose to receive mail at their home address rather than at work. I have sent several such packages / letters that might look suspiciously personal through the mailroom in my administrative job. A thank you card to a guest speaker could also be classified as 'personal', and would look so, although it would technically be official university business. On the other hand, I could, but don't, send personal mail to friends at other universities that looks official through the university's pre-paid post (for example officially addressed to Dr September Blue, University in the Big City etc. etc.). Mailroom might never know.
And that brings me back to arguing that the only way of knowing this would be to open all the mail. In which case, surely you can find something better to do?
"A number of personal items have been sent to the Mailroom recently in University PPI envelopes. Please note that PPI envelopes are to be used for business purposes only and MUST NOT be used for personal mail. Any personal mail found in PPI envelopes will be returned to you and your head of department may be informed. Thank you."
And I find myself wondering several things: how do the mailroom know that it's personal mail? How would they know to whom specifically it should be returned? And what terrible fate would await me if the headmaster - no, wait - Head of Department were to be informed?
The only answer to the first two questions - if the mailroom are sure that it's personal mail sent in university prepaid envelopes - is that they open the outgoing mail. I'm not sure that's entirely legal (but do correct me if I'm wrong, here). Nevertheless, their choice of the verb 'found' in this message - "any personal mail found in PPI envelopes" - implies that they do indeed open mail to find such things.
Well, this is possibly a poor choice of words on their part. And I'm pretty sure that they don't open all the mail that goes through the postroom. If they do, they have far too much time on their hands, and cutting down the number of staff there might well pay for the odd personal letter that goes through the system. But if they don't open all the mail, then really, the Powers That Be (and Complain) in the mailroom are just guessing that it's personal mail. And their policy of returning it to the sender could result in significant delays in important communication to, for example, external examiners who choose to receive mail at their home address rather than at work. I have sent several such packages / letters that might look suspiciously personal through the mailroom in my administrative job. A thank you card to a guest speaker could also be classified as 'personal', and would look so, although it would technically be official university business. On the other hand, I could, but don't, send personal mail to friends at other universities that looks official through the university's pre-paid post (for example officially addressed to Dr September Blue, University in the Big City etc. etc.). Mailroom might never know.
And that brings me back to arguing that the only way of knowing this would be to open all the mail. In which case, surely you can find something better to do?
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
The wearing of jeans to work
Whenever I begin teaching a new group of students, I make an effort not to wear jeans on seminar days. This, I think, stems from my days as a postgrad teaching assistant, when I felt I had to look semi-authoritative because I didn't have any Dr. title to provide this authority. I tried then to project to the students (and myself?) an image proving I was qualified to teach them. I suppose I now do this as a confirmation of that. I set off with the intention of wearing 'tutor clothes' every week, but as term goes on I start to slip, and by the end of the year I'm wearing jeans to seminars. I figure by that point if they don't see me as their 'tutor' jeans won't make a difference (and I do like to promote equality of ideas and opinions between tutor and students in my seminars!). I have never given a lecture in jeans. This, I know, is a matter of maintaining my own confidence.
For my new admin job, I wouldn't wear jeans to work. Not as a spur to my confidence, but because my image of office/secretarial workers is smarter than that (smart casual, not necessarily suits). None of the other ladies in my office wear jeans either. Presumably they feel the same as I do.
There are only three men in the administrative unit in which I work. One at my level (lowly admin assistant), one is my line-manager's manager, and the other is my line-manager's manager's manager. Both top level administrators wear suits and ties for work. Lowly administrator wears jeans and a sweater or a casual shirt. No one seems to question this. No one seems to object. But I wonder what would happen if I turned up in jeans and a hoodie tomorrow? I'm sure someone would notice, and probably they would object.
So, ignoring my seminar jeans issue (which is, I acknowledge) entirely of my own imposition) what do you think about wearing jeans for work? Do you think its appropriateness is gendered? Am I imposing my own rules again?
For my new admin job, I wouldn't wear jeans to work. Not as a spur to my confidence, but because my image of office/secretarial workers is smarter than that (smart casual, not necessarily suits). None of the other ladies in my office wear jeans either. Presumably they feel the same as I do.
There are only three men in the administrative unit in which I work. One at my level (lowly admin assistant), one is my line-manager's manager, and the other is my line-manager's manager's manager. Both top level administrators wear suits and ties for work. Lowly administrator wears jeans and a sweater or a casual shirt. No one seems to question this. No one seems to object. But I wonder what would happen if I turned up in jeans and a hoodie tomorrow? I'm sure someone would notice, and probably they would object.
So, ignoring my seminar jeans issue (which is, I acknowledge) entirely of my own imposition) what do you think about wearing jeans for work? Do you think its appropriateness is gendered? Am I imposing my own rules again?
Friday, 1 May 2009
Student comments - not about me
I started a new admin job last week in the Education Faculty at the other University here in the City where the Castle is also a Prison. It's three days a week, and should take care of my bills over the summer, which is a relief.
As part of this, I minuted a staff-student consultative meeting this week. It's very interesting to hear what students think about courses in a department where you don't do any teaching, and see how different departments run. This is one in which a lot of the teaching is practical stuff, rather than book based - I'm used to consultative meetings in which all of the students on all of the courses complain about having too much reading to do. In fact, my Women's Writing students at the same University have complained about this to me (more on this another day). But, as an informed observer - I have some thoughts on how seminars work from both a student and tutor perspective - some of the students' complaints revealed much more about students' 'faulty' expectations than about the tutors. For example:
"Our tutor didn't know enough about his subject to teach us anything. When he asked a question and it stayed quiet he just kept waiting for someone to answer rather than telling us the answer himself. And sometimes, when he had us doing group work, when one group asked a question, he asked the other group if they could answer it. He was waiting for us to tell each other because he didn't know the answer himself."
Now to me, waiting for students to answer rather than answering your own question immediately, and having them think for themselves and discuss with each other rather than treating the tutor as a teacher, seems to me like very good tutorial practice, and something I try to implement in my own seminars. They are not the place for me to give the students information - that happens in lectures. But what I found really odd was that the Chair of the meeting did not attempt to address this complaint. He just moved on and left the accusation of not knowing enough about the topic to linger over the head of the absent part time tutor. And I wanted to interject. But I was not wearing my academic hat to the meeting, so I had to just write down what was said and leave it alone. But it does emphasise that students expect university to be like school: that they will be spoon-fed information and won't have to do any independent thinking or group work. What worries me is that these were second year students. I don't know why this idea wasn't shaken out of them in their first year, but it should have been. And the course co-ordinator ought to have put them right at this meeting too, otherwise the same sort of complaints and expectations will continue.
So, for the record: your tutor may well know what he is talking about. He may also know what he is doing in running his seminars like that. You have to do some independent thinking. At least some of the time...
As part of this, I minuted a staff-student consultative meeting this week. It's very interesting to hear what students think about courses in a department where you don't do any teaching, and see how different departments run. This is one in which a lot of the teaching is practical stuff, rather than book based - I'm used to consultative meetings in which all of the students on all of the courses complain about having too much reading to do. In fact, my Women's Writing students at the same University have complained about this to me (more on this another day). But, as an informed observer - I have some thoughts on how seminars work from both a student and tutor perspective - some of the students' complaints revealed much more about students' 'faulty' expectations than about the tutors. For example:
"Our tutor didn't know enough about his subject to teach us anything. When he asked a question and it stayed quiet he just kept waiting for someone to answer rather than telling us the answer himself. And sometimes, when he had us doing group work, when one group asked a question, he asked the other group if they could answer it. He was waiting for us to tell each other because he didn't know the answer himself."
Now to me, waiting for students to answer rather than answering your own question immediately, and having them think for themselves and discuss with each other rather than treating the tutor as a teacher, seems to me like very good tutorial practice, and something I try to implement in my own seminars. They are not the place for me to give the students information - that happens in lectures. But what I found really odd was that the Chair of the meeting did not attempt to address this complaint. He just moved on and left the accusation of not knowing enough about the topic to linger over the head of the absent part time tutor. And I wanted to interject. But I was not wearing my academic hat to the meeting, so I had to just write down what was said and leave it alone. But it does emphasise that students expect university to be like school: that they will be spoon-fed information and won't have to do any independent thinking or group work. What worries me is that these were second year students. I don't know why this idea wasn't shaken out of them in their first year, but it should have been. And the course co-ordinator ought to have put them right at this meeting too, otherwise the same sort of complaints and expectations will continue.
So, for the record: your tutor may well know what he is talking about. He may also know what he is doing in running his seminars like that. You have to do some independent thinking. At least some of the time...
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Monetary surprises.
In light of September Blue's post commenting on warning students about the academic job market, this post seems particularly timely.
I am timetabled to teach 4 hours a week and am paid for 12 to account for prep time. Of course, it's token "prep time" - I work many, many more than I have ever tried to count (if I worked out how much I get paid per actual hour worked it would be too depressing to think about).
Setting aside, for the moment, my second teaching job - 2 of those 4 scheduled hours are taken up by this - for which I have not been paid at all yet because of their different pay claim system, I'm pausing to think about my pay slip from the big University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison.
When I openend it the other day I had a pleasant surprise. More money than I was expecting! And it wasn't even a mistake that they would take back from me; I had forgotten about the three days I had worked as secretary in Philosophy. Bonus money! (Well, already spent on bills, but bonus in being there when I wasn't expecting it). But what was more of a surprise - and not quite so pleasant - was that I discovered that I got paid almost as much for 3 days of secretary work as I did for a whole month teaching in English.
I know I'm lucky to have any sort of academic job at all. I know I'm lucky to get paid (however little at the moment) to do something that I really enjoy doing. But if I didn't love the teaching and the research - when I finally get to do some - I'd be very tempted to be a secretary full time.
So yes, tell MA students the facts and figures about the job market. And about how flexible you need to be both in terms of type of institution and of place in the country / a country / any country. And about the pay for part time TA work (if it's available - and it may not be).
No one should go into this with their eyes shut. Especially if they would rather be a secretary.
I am timetabled to teach 4 hours a week and am paid for 12 to account for prep time. Of course, it's token "prep time" - I work many, many more than I have ever tried to count (if I worked out how much I get paid per actual hour worked it would be too depressing to think about).
Setting aside, for the moment, my second teaching job - 2 of those 4 scheduled hours are taken up by this - for which I have not been paid at all yet because of their different pay claim system, I'm pausing to think about my pay slip from the big University in the City where the Castle is also a Prison.
When I openend it the other day I had a pleasant surprise. More money than I was expecting! And it wasn't even a mistake that they would take back from me; I had forgotten about the three days I had worked as secretary in Philosophy. Bonus money! (Well, already spent on bills, but bonus in being there when I wasn't expecting it). But what was more of a surprise - and not quite so pleasant - was that I discovered that I got paid almost as much for 3 days of secretary work as I did for a whole month teaching in English.
I know I'm lucky to have any sort of academic job at all. I know I'm lucky to get paid (however little at the moment) to do something that I really enjoy doing. But if I didn't love the teaching and the research - when I finally get to do some - I'd be very tempted to be a secretary full time.
So yes, tell MA students the facts and figures about the job market. And about how flexible you need to be both in terms of type of institution and of place in the country / a country / any country. And about the pay for part time TA work (if it's available - and it may not be).
No one should go into this with their eyes shut. Especially if they would rather be a secretary.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Confession
OK. So here is my confession:
I am in love with one of my students.
Before you condemn me to an everlasting academic underworld torment of never finished book-reviews, undergrad essay mountains which grow taller the more you mark, and TA peanuts pay for evermore, I should probably explain.
He a mature-ish student (mid 20s), he’s tall, he’s slim, he’s quite attractive. He has small glasses and floppy hair. He wears shirts under tidy jumpers under neat jackets. He looks like he ought to be writing poetry in a garret room. He attends all of the lectures, and he usually has an exceptionally good (or politically interesting) reason if he misses seminars, and he has missed very few. He is informed, he is articulate, and he wants to learn. He has actively sought help from me with his analytical skills. And – and I’ve saved the best until last – he LOVES literature.
You might think this is a strange thing to say, when I earn my peanuts teaching literature students. But it seems to be becoming increasingly unusual to find an English Lit student who actually likes reading books.
The garret poet loves reading. He reads things that are not on the reading list, and he wants to talk about them. And he exudes an enthusiasm for literature and literary analysis, that sometimes leads him astray in his essays, but at least his essays are not in any way mechanical.
The tutor in me wants to nurture and train this enthusiasm into good academic criticism (hopefully without squashing the joy). My younger teenage self, who loved literature and was also fond of floppy-haired boys, is hopelessly in love with the garret poet.
So can I just say: if, after this confession and explanation, you still want to condemn me to the above mentioned academic purgatory of never-ending TA pay, please – pretty please – could it be teaching students like him.
I am in love with one of my students.
Before you condemn me to an everlasting academic underworld torment of never finished book-reviews, undergrad essay mountains which grow taller the more you mark, and TA peanuts pay for evermore, I should probably explain.
He a mature-ish student (mid 20s), he’s tall, he’s slim, he’s quite attractive. He has small glasses and floppy hair. He wears shirts under tidy jumpers under neat jackets. He looks like he ought to be writing poetry in a garret room. He attends all of the lectures, and he usually has an exceptionally good (or politically interesting) reason if he misses seminars, and he has missed very few. He is informed, he is articulate, and he wants to learn. He has actively sought help from me with his analytical skills. And – and I’ve saved the best until last – he LOVES literature.
You might think this is a strange thing to say, when I earn my peanuts teaching literature students. But it seems to be becoming increasingly unusual to find an English Lit student who actually likes reading books.
The garret poet loves reading. He reads things that are not on the reading list, and he wants to talk about them. And he exudes an enthusiasm for literature and literary analysis, that sometimes leads him astray in his essays, but at least his essays are not in any way mechanical.
The tutor in me wants to nurture and train this enthusiasm into good academic criticism (hopefully without squashing the joy). My younger teenage self, who loved literature and was also fond of floppy-haired boys, is hopelessly in love with the garret poet.
So can I just say: if, after this confession and explanation, you still want to condemn me to the above mentioned academic purgatory of never-ending TA pay, please – pretty please – could it be teaching students like him.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Professional dilemma
I marked all of my students' essays over Christmas. They were an OK batch - none dreadful, none brilliant, but most in the 'pretty good' to 'good' to 'very good' scheme of things. There are a lot of students, and quite a few tutors on the course, so we moderate the grades by swapping a few essays with another tutor, and today I have been looking at 4 marked by another teaching assistant. I find myself with a professional dilemma: some of her comments are, for want of a better word, 'incorrect'. On one essay, she has not corrected a series of factual errors and confusions, and in another the punctuation / grammatical corrections she has made are wrong (in the latter, the student's version was actually correct before she changed it).
Now, for the first essay, I think this is because the essay is on a topic which is outside the tutor's area of expertise (and inside mine, so I would speedily recognise the mistake). Although there is not much in the way of alternative on 'survey' courses, this is one of the disadvantages of having the same tutor teach all topics - there is always going to be something that might catch us out. I'm know that I don't know everything! So, for this essay, I'm not too worried. I don't see it as too much of a dilemma, because I can point this out as being something I might reasonably know that she doesn't. The only problem is that she has written 'good points!' next to some of these errors. Maybe that could be altered to say these would have been good points, if this were true?
But, what about the grammar / punctuation 'corrections'? I feel it is important that student errors in this area are highlighted and corrected. And with this in mind, I don't feel comfortable ignoring the incorrect corrections. But I'm also a bit uncomfortable telling a fellow teaching assistant (who is mid PhD in English, and should be able to construct sentences) that not only is their punctuation poor, but they have done this on one of their student's essays. In black biro. I don't hold a supervisory position over her. We are merely peer moderating. I know I shouldn't be correcting her grammar.
I don't know what to do...
Now, for the first essay, I think this is because the essay is on a topic which is outside the tutor's area of expertise (and inside mine, so I would speedily recognise the mistake). Although there is not much in the way of alternative on 'survey' courses, this is one of the disadvantages of having the same tutor teach all topics - there is always going to be something that might catch us out. I'm know that I don't know everything! So, for this essay, I'm not too worried. I don't see it as too much of a dilemma, because I can point this out as being something I might reasonably know that she doesn't. The only problem is that she has written 'good points!' next to some of these errors. Maybe that could be altered to say these would have been good points, if this were true?
But, what about the grammar / punctuation 'corrections'? I feel it is important that student errors in this area are highlighted and corrected. And with this in mind, I don't feel comfortable ignoring the incorrect corrections. But I'm also a bit uncomfortable telling a fellow teaching assistant (who is mid PhD in English, and should be able to construct sentences) that not only is their punctuation poor, but they have done this on one of their student's essays. In black biro. I don't hold a supervisory position over her. We are merely peer moderating. I know I shouldn't be correcting her grammar.
I don't know what to do...
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Essay requests
I've had enough of undergraduate essays. And I haven't even started marking yet.
The Philosophy Department had essays due at the end of term. Lots of essays. For some reason, and I don't know what it was, 8 courses had essays due by 5pm last Friday. So there was a mountain of essays to date stamp, mark in as submitted, and sort out for tutors. Usually all of that wouldn't be my job. But early on Monday, the undergrad secretary had to go home ill, so she sent me an email asking me to deal with them. When I got to work on Tuesday morning, I started sorting them out; first into piles for each course, then into piles for each tutor for the courses where there was more than one. They are submitted anonymously, by Student ID rather than name, so logging them as submitted was a two stage process - matching name to ID and then marking the date of submission next to the name in the file (the ID number is also there, but it would take hours to match them manually).
One of the lecturers came into the office and said she needed to collect her essays for marking, and she had told the undergrad secretary this. I explained she was away sick, and I was processing the essays and I'd get to hers next but someone else had already asked for theirs. She said OK, and started to leave, and then muttered that his could wait and she needed hers urgently today. I said I would do them next. And they were all done in plenty of time for her to catch her train, but it did confuse my system because I had to do her option unit and then some of the first year essays (sort out hers but not do all of them because that was the largest set, and none of the other first year tutors had asked for theirs; I knew other lecturers were waiting). It's a very boring job, but also requires a certain amount of systematic concentration to make sure no one's essay goes astray or doesn't get logged. As a general rule, though, please have some patience when only 2 of 4 office staff are working, you aren't the only memeber of staff asking for essays so that they can go away for Christmas (I am working until 23rd) and one is trying to catch up on something that would have been done the day before if another wasn't off sick.
I wasn't working on Wednesday, so today I had to finish off the essay organising. On Tuesday, I'd made a list of what I'd done for each course: stamped, noted as submitted, contacted tutor, given to tutor etc. I started on the courses that I hadn't already noted down, and when I'd done that I began to send out emails to tutors.
Until I couldn't find a batch of essays.
I looked all over my office. I looked all over the undergrad secretary's office. I checked my list to see if I had actually marked them as in (and I had - I'd even left a note to myself about a student in the records). And I panicked. Out of all the essays I had sorted and moved around I just couldn't work out where I might have left them. So I went to see the tutor who ran the course, and asked if I'd given them to him. "Oh! Yeah," he said, "I came in and took them yesterday. I probably should have left you a note, or something". Yes. Yes you should. So for the record:
NEVER, under any circumstances should you just TAKE essays out of a pile in the secretary's office without at the very least leaving them a note. EVER.
Please.
The Philosophy Department had essays due at the end of term. Lots of essays. For some reason, and I don't know what it was, 8 courses had essays due by 5pm last Friday. So there was a mountain of essays to date stamp, mark in as submitted, and sort out for tutors. Usually all of that wouldn't be my job. But early on Monday, the undergrad secretary had to go home ill, so she sent me an email asking me to deal with them. When I got to work on Tuesday morning, I started sorting them out; first into piles for each course, then into piles for each tutor for the courses where there was more than one. They are submitted anonymously, by Student ID rather than name, so logging them as submitted was a two stage process - matching name to ID and then marking the date of submission next to the name in the file (the ID number is also there, but it would take hours to match them manually).
One of the lecturers came into the office and said she needed to collect her essays for marking, and she had told the undergrad secretary this. I explained she was away sick, and I was processing the essays and I'd get to hers next but someone else had already asked for theirs. She said OK, and started to leave, and then muttered that his could wait and she needed hers urgently today. I said I would do them next. And they were all done in plenty of time for her to catch her train, but it did confuse my system because I had to do her option unit and then some of the first year essays (sort out hers but not do all of them because that was the largest set, and none of the other first year tutors had asked for theirs; I knew other lecturers were waiting). It's a very boring job, but also requires a certain amount of systematic concentration to make sure no one's essay goes astray or doesn't get logged. As a general rule, though, please have some patience when only 2 of 4 office staff are working, you aren't the only memeber of staff asking for essays so that they can go away for Christmas (I am working until 23rd) and one is trying to catch up on something that would have been done the day before if another wasn't off sick.
I wasn't working on Wednesday, so today I had to finish off the essay organising. On Tuesday, I'd made a list of what I'd done for each course: stamped, noted as submitted, contacted tutor, given to tutor etc. I started on the courses that I hadn't already noted down, and when I'd done that I began to send out emails to tutors.
Until I couldn't find a batch of essays.
I looked all over my office. I looked all over the undergrad secretary's office. I checked my list to see if I had actually marked them as in (and I had - I'd even left a note to myself about a student in the records). And I panicked. Out of all the essays I had sorted and moved around I just couldn't work out where I might have left them. So I went to see the tutor who ran the course, and asked if I'd given them to him. "Oh! Yeah," he said, "I came in and took them yesterday. I probably should have left you a note, or something". Yes. Yes you should. So for the record:
NEVER, under any circumstances should you just TAKE essays out of a pile in the secretary's office without at the very least leaving them a note. EVER.
Please.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Counting down.
Someone told me this morning that it will be Christmas day in ten days time.
I was inclined to laugh, until I realised that it was actually true.
Ten days to Christmas.
I am, at least, almost prepared in terms of presents. I'm afraid most of my shopping was done online this year. Not very Christmassy, I suppose, but I have put thought into presents and / or got people what they've asked for, so I guess that is what counts, rather than the going out and making my way through the Christmas shopping crowds. I will go out and buy Christmas cards for family, though; I like to spend time reading the cards until I find the right one. I've already got the ones to send out to friends, although I haven't sent them yet. It seems I might need to buy some more - it's nice to realise you have more friends than you thought!
But I haven't been feeling very Christmassy. This term has flown by so quickly, and I'm just about still afloat. I'm making a concerted effort to clear the 'left overs' from my desk before Christmas, but more stuff keeps being added on to the list (not metaphorically - I've actually written a list so that I don't forget things, and can tick things off it).
I don't think I'll get through all of it - I'm working in Philosophy for four days before Christmas - but I'll have a go.
Ten days isn't very long...
I was inclined to laugh, until I realised that it was actually true.
Ten days to Christmas.
I am, at least, almost prepared in terms of presents. I'm afraid most of my shopping was done online this year. Not very Christmassy, I suppose, but I have put thought into presents and / or got people what they've asked for, so I guess that is what counts, rather than the going out and making my way through the Christmas shopping crowds. I will go out and buy Christmas cards for family, though; I like to spend time reading the cards until I find the right one. I've already got the ones to send out to friends, although I haven't sent them yet. It seems I might need to buy some more - it's nice to realise you have more friends than you thought!
But I haven't been feeling very Christmassy. This term has flown by so quickly, and I'm just about still afloat. I'm making a concerted effort to clear the 'left overs' from my desk before Christmas, but more stuff keeps being added on to the list (not metaphorically - I've actually written a list so that I don't forget things, and can tick things off it).
I don't think I'll get through all of it - I'm working in Philosophy for four days before Christmas - but I'll have a go.
Ten days isn't very long...
Friday, 5 December 2008
Philosophical conversation.
Yesterday morning, I arrived on campus much earlier than I need to for work in the Philosophy Department office. I stopped off at the coffee shop to buy coffee and a pastry, and then took both to my office 45 minutes before work start time, so that I could finish a task for a small job that I didn't list in my earlier post, and that should have been done some time ago. If I'm honest, I had just forgotten about it. So here is the conversation that I had in the corridor outside my office with a member of the academic staff in Philosophy.
Philosopher: You're in early!
Me: No, I'm not really here.
Philosopher: Ah, Ok. I haven't really seen you.
And I ducked into my office, and he continued down the corridor.
This struck me as particularly appropriate conversation to have in a Philosophy Department corridor at 8.15am.
I'm not even here now, actually...
Philosopher: You're in early!
Me: No, I'm not really here.
Philosopher: Ah, Ok. I haven't really seen you.
And I ducked into my office, and he continued down the corridor.
This struck me as particularly appropriate conversation to have in a Philosophy Department corridor at 8.15am.
I'm not even here now, actually...
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
People
I like people. I usually trust people until they give me reason not to - yes, sometimes I get hurt that way, but I think it's better that than living in permanent suspicion and cynicism. I believe that most people are good people most of the time.
But today I'm disappointed. Today, people - specific and general - let me down.
One of my former students who is academically Very Bright had asked me to write a reference for his postgraduate applications. I learned through various grapevines before I agreed to this that other members of staff had refused because of his appallingly bad attendance. I decided, particularly because his attendance had not been too bad in my classes, and his record showed that his attendance this year was much better than last, that it would be unfair to condemn someone so Very Bright forever in academia because he didn't have his act together in his second year. If he were a student in Scotland, he would have had another year to redeem himself before such judgements were made. So, I agreed to write his references. He asked that I mention the particularly high grade he received for an independently planned and researched extended essay, and I said I would, of course, but to maintain my own and the Institution's academic integrity, I would also have to mention the disciplinary action over his attendance in the previous year. I would, I said, try to make this more positive by emphasising the drastic improvement in his attendance this year. I haven't been able to write them before today, and I happened to mention this to Colleague Who Worries Too Much (she is teaching this student this year), and it turns out that since I said I'd mention that his attendance was much improved, he has missed 3 or 4 classes without giving a reason. Now this may be a coincidence, but I'm not sure I haven't been manipulated here. I am taking the comments on his drastic improvement out of my reference.
More generally, I slipped and fell down some stairs today. Nothing is broken, and there is no major injury, although my ankles are aching a little. But I was in a very public place, and there were lots of people around - in and outside shops, standing in groups, wandering past - and not one of them, despite my loud shout of surprise / pain even looked to see if I was OK. Not a single one of them.
You let me down today, people. You let me down.
But today I'm disappointed. Today, people - specific and general - let me down.
One of my former students who is academically Very Bright had asked me to write a reference for his postgraduate applications. I learned through various grapevines before I agreed to this that other members of staff had refused because of his appallingly bad attendance. I decided, particularly because his attendance had not been too bad in my classes, and his record showed that his attendance this year was much better than last, that it would be unfair to condemn someone so Very Bright forever in academia because he didn't have his act together in his second year. If he were a student in Scotland, he would have had another year to redeem himself before such judgements were made. So, I agreed to write his references. He asked that I mention the particularly high grade he received for an independently planned and researched extended essay, and I said I would, of course, but to maintain my own and the Institution's academic integrity, I would also have to mention the disciplinary action over his attendance in the previous year. I would, I said, try to make this more positive by emphasising the drastic improvement in his attendance this year. I haven't been able to write them before today, and I happened to mention this to Colleague Who Worries Too Much (she is teaching this student this year), and it turns out that since I said I'd mention that his attendance was much improved, he has missed 3 or 4 classes without giving a reason. Now this may be a coincidence, but I'm not sure I haven't been manipulated here. I am taking the comments on his drastic improvement out of my reference.
More generally, I slipped and fell down some stairs today. Nothing is broken, and there is no major injury, although my ankles are aching a little. But I was in a very public place, and there were lots of people around - in and outside shops, standing in groups, wandering past - and not one of them, despite my loud shout of surprise / pain even looked to see if I was OK. Not a single one of them.
You let me down today, people. You let me down.
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