The artist's futile lament: I gotta be me

It's almost 11:00 p.m. I've spent much of the day grading student work. I haven't even been outside today. The cold winter sun came and went, and I missed it, hunkered in my cave. It's midterm time. Instructors are required to submit midterm grades, in case they get run over by a truck before the end of the term. Or get fired. Or they quit because they found a  better job with a better company. (Dream on.) It takes time to do a good job grading. I joked with someone today that I probably could just throw darts at a dartboard. Ha ha, I'm sure my students wouldn't think that was funny.

Actually, once I see some writing samples, I can pretty accurately predict the grade each student will earn by the end of the term. We don't grade on the curve. It's all about points. Everyone can get an A if they do all the work satisfactorily. I have no problem giving everyone an A. Considering that my job security depends on how students evaluate me, I guess I'd say giving all As is part of how I keep my job. Kidddddingggg. No, really. I'm kidding. Just because I work at one of those low-life for-profit colleges we all love to bash doesn't mean I don't provide the best learning experience I possibly can. I'm sure I can do better on any given day—who couldn't?—but I really do try to show up and do a good job for these students. Most of whom don't give a rat's ass about learning, I might add. They just want to get out and on with their lives.

This term I have fewer computer classes and more business classes. That means more stuff to read. Two sections of Organizational Management (four students total), two sections of Professional Selling (three students total), one section of an introductory level Marketing and Finance (two students). One section of Access (five students, one of whom refuses to do any work, so he won't be around much longer). And two sections of Keyboarding, with about 25 students total). Do you wonder how this career college stays afloat, with such a low student/teacher ratio? I do.

I often complain about Keyboarding as a reason I want to poke my eyes out with a stick. I use the word “teaching” very loosely when speaking of Keyboarding. Teaching isn't exactly what I do as I stroll around behind the students, peering over their shoulders, poking at their monitors with an accusing finger. This is how you set a tab stop! Center the table! Vertically! Which way is vertically? Google it! I'm the Keyboarding drill sergeant from hell. Most of the students find me very annoying. But how else can I stay awake in class, I ask you?

After nine years, I can say with some certainty that I have pretty much perfected the job of grading keyboarding. I have developed a very colorful Excel spreadsheet that does all of the calculations for me. All I have to do is plug in the numbers. It's a thing of beauty, but unfortunately, I still have to review many documents for accuracy and formatting, a very repetitive and boring process. Letters, memos, reports, just kill me now. I've seen these documents so many times in nine years I bet I could recite them out loud. Especially the medical transcription documents. These are the documents the medical students must type from dictation files. They hate typing big words like... salpingo-oophorectomy, acute suppurative streptococcal infection, drippy gooey pus-filled tonsillar exudate (I embellished that one a little bit), as much as I hate reading them. This is why I am earning a doctorate? To teach medical keyboarders how to transcribe dictation? Where's that stick?

After nine years, am I done? Am I ready to finally admit I've done all I can do at the career college, and it's time to move on? I think I'm almost ready. Soon, very soon. Within a year, I think. On to what, though, is the question.

The cat just settled into the chair behind me and now has somehow managed to take over the entire chair. There isn't room for both our fat asses. I guess that means it's time to stop and take a nap or something. When in doubt, do what the cat does.