And So, the Adjuncting Year Draws to a Close... Not with a Bang but a Whimper.

The three people who read this blog already know that I had a rough academic year, so I won't belabor the point. What surprises me at this juncture is the regret (mixed, of course, with profound relief) that I feel at having decided not to sign on again for next September.

The idea of turning down work, particularly during this economic, er, clustercuss, makes me very uncomfortable. On the other hand, the icey claws of doom I felt digging into my shoulders every time I drove through the college's front gate were somewhat worse than uncomfortable. And it's not as if anyone was offering me benefits or a living wage or even a chance of becoming full-time faculty, so...

What follows is part of an email I sent to my students last week:

As most of you are aware, I have a few problems with the way the First Year Writing program was set up. Overall, I would have preferred to give you more freedom in selecting writing topics. I would have liked to let you do some creative or personal writing as well. I would have preferred to leave the research/citation aspect of the class up to someone who's an expert in that area, as I think it distracted me from just getting everyone to write.

I sincerely hope that this does not turn you off to the idea of writing. I hope that you will all go on to take literature classes, poetry classes, and creative writing classes. I hope you will all discover (whether by reading or by writing) that words really do have power in this world. They can inspire you, make you feel connected to others, and set you free.

In that second paragraph lies my regret. Because I actually think I'm a pretty decent writing teacher. But I was given three freshman classes with fifteen students apiece, and two fifty-minute periods per week in which to teach them to write. Oh and, I wasn't supposed to supply the "content." The "content" was to come from their first-year seminar instructors.

Now, this school is not Harvard or Yale. There are some pretty serious academic "issues" at this school. There are ESL students, and students with learning disabilities, and students who are only there because their parents told them they have to go to college.

There were students (lots of 'em) who looked at me blankly when I asked them what they liked to read. There were students who could not or would not put away their handheld electronic devices even on threat of expulsion. There were chronic cut-and-paste plagiarizers who couldn't even be bothered to make the fonts match.

But I still think I could have taught them to write.

I wanted them to write about things they cared about; about things that excited them or moved them or scared them. I wanted them to feel free to write anything at all without being judged. I could have corrected their grammar, spelling and punctuation just as well in a personal essay as in a research paper... and I have no doubt in my mind that I would have read some amazing and revelatory things while I was at it.