Dr. K. Shimabukuro

Dr. K. Shimabukuro

Sunday, October 30, 2022

It's All So Hard

For their second assignment my ENGL 102 students have to argue for a single change. Their first assignment was a research report on a topic of their choice, and I told them that these assignments were designed to build on one another, that they use the research from the first to see what the issue is, then use it to inform what change they'd argue for. They get to pick their own topics, as long as it connects to the theme of the class. Two of my 102 classes are themed around "the purpose of education." Students are arguing for no more homework, for more inclusive and comprehensive sex ed, for equity in school funding, for quizzes and not comprehensive exams. 

These last few weeks are focused on students drafting their presentation slides and notes, revising, then presenting. The last couple of weeks we've talked about setting up presentations, what presentations should do, and filling in research gaps and how to use miltimedia. They had a chance at the end of this last week to practice their presentation, sitting, not standing in front of the class, getting positive feedback (claps and snaps) and in general a more informal practice session. 

One student, talking about these topics, in general, made the comment that it all seems insurmountable. Impossible. That it seems sometimes like there's nothing they can do, that they should just give up. Not care. Not engage. It's a stance I've heard a lot the last few years. I answered but I don't know how helpful my answer was, or ever is. I suggested that everyone as an adult had to balance contributing what they could to issues they chose to prioritize- time, money, organizing, to try and personally contribute, feel better, and then vote, be informed, to try and enact larger change. That we can care about many things but we can't do it all. That it harms our mental health to try. I know, because many of them tell me, that they feel things deeply. But I also know that they feel a bit hopeless.

I can relate.

Week 11, this is when in the semester that I start to feel like I'm not doing enough, not helping, where I start to regret and question every pedagogical choice I've made. I don't have classwork, practice, formative assessment grades, although students do a lot of practice, send it to me for feedback. Not all do. I got rid of "graded" practice after last year it seemed to just be one more thing that students fell behind on, a recipe to overwhlem them, set them up to not do well. So this semester, the students only have two "graded" assignments, midterm and final. Both they conference about, argue for the grade they think they earned, reflect on, and I rarely have to push back or disagree. The second assignment builds on the first, although if they hated their topic they could change it. The second assignment is also what determines their final grade, with a reflection where they can argue for higher based on invisible labor or challenges I may not know about. The first was a research report, the second is a presentation. They have chances to email me practice parts, drafts, workshop in class. There's not penalty for late work, although both midterms and final have "hard" deadlines because, as I tell them, I have to submit grades by a certain time.

This is the time in the semester where students are sick, tired, overwhelmed, and my attendance drops and drops. I know from past semesters, past student surveys and conversations, that this is not a failure on my part. Almost none of their other classes have flexibility in them and mine does, so they use my class as designed. Friday I emailed students in a few groups- those who I hadn't seen in a while, those who did not turn in a midterm assignment, those who turned one in but didn't pass. I made sure to emphasize that they could still pass. That there were a lot of reasons why students would be tired, checked out, this point in the semester. I laid out step by step what they could do, what we were doing in class the next couple weeks. I made sure to tell them I was here to help. Not all students answer. Some do. Some will come back to class.

I wish I had better ways to help the students who don't write back. Who disappear and I never know why.

Last week I also went over registration stuff, since registration for Spring 2023 starts tomorrow. We talked about what GE was, what the 100, 200, 300, 400 level classes meant. I told them how I advise my students- to definitely get their 35 required GE credits taken care of, but to save some of their 25 free electives for junior and senior year, to help balance when they're taking all academic, heavy classes in their major. To give them a mental break. To save yoga, or art, or music, or film, as a treat, a break, when they need it. Students are registered for 15 credits, but often in their first semester that is 7 classes. Students tell me they feel overwhelmed. That their day to day schedule is hectic, goes too long, doesn't allow for meals. So I recommend they print or draw out a weekly schedule and think about the times of classes when they register. To not sign up for an 8a if they're not a morning person. To not schedule classes over lunch. To not make days that are 3 or 4 classes back to back.

Students get to ask questions, I make sure they know who their advisors are, check that they've made registration appointments. But I wish we advised first year students differently. I wish we advised them to prioritize their mental and physical health. I think of how much different college would look like if we did.

Sometimes, the issues students face, what they struggle with, seems too hard. Too big. Above my pay grade. I worry about all the little damages we do to students and don't have to. I worry, all the time, but especially at the end of the semester that I'm not doing enough. I doubt what I am doing. 

Does my approach to grades help students focus on process and learning and reflection? Or does the lack of grades posted in a gradebook cause more anxiety and stress?

Is my hyperlinked Google Doc syllabus enough? Accessible enough? Or should I duplicate a face to face class on Blackboard so it's easier, and because it's what students are more comfortable with?

Do students learn how to email and have conversations by emailing their work or should I just have a submit link in Blackboard for ease and familiarity?

If I put everything online in Blackboard is that accessibility or encouraging students to not come?

If I don't have penalties for late work am I helping students or is it a trap? 

Am I teaching students to time manage and plan or should I just put a due date in Blackboard so it reminds them and they have one less thing to do?

I think about the fact that the response rate for my check in surveys every four weeks drops and drops every time, and that the answers I get are only from students still coming, still doing, the students that do well no matter what the system design.

I feel overwhelmed with all the things I don't know, can't impact, can't fix.

Usually I spiral for several weeks, panic, worry. Then I return to my touchstone, the advice I give students, that I cannot fix or control or even move the needle, on everything. So I try to refocus my energy on the things I can affect and they create the grace and space for them to do what is best for them.

But it is all so hard.

And it's made harder by institutions and systems. By high gas prices that affects commuters. By students with families who are juggling so much. By adult students who are struggling to reintegrate. By students who are housing or food insecure. By students with undiagnosed learning disabilities. By students struggling to balance it all. By the stress, anxiety, pressure of it all. By the steep learning curve that living on campus fall semester presents. By people who are racist, sexist, homophobic, and make hard situations so much worse.

I try to tell my students I know all this. And I wish I could fix it all. I try to tell them I see them. That I know. That I am here to help if I can.

But it is all so hard.

And so often feels like never enough.