Monday, May 27, 2013


I asked for this. I did.
I have always wanted to be a teacher, and I wanted to teach a foundational subject, one that had the potential to influence a student's life no matter what.

I picked writing.

And so today I'm sitting at the kitchen table procrastinating. I have 30 more essays to read today, and to be quite honest, I don't want to read them. A few are excellent. A few are good. The rest are okay or not so okay.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm making a difference.  Did I do a good job? Why do so many students struggle with putting ideas down on a piece of paper? Why do so many students ignore or fail to process the information I provide? Why do so many students ignore or fail to process the information provided in high school? How can we teach more effectively?

I'm grateful for moments when I see students make significant improvement. Or when they learn how to apply rhetorical concepts outside the college classroom. And when I can encourage a student to keep trying.  I get more than a few of these moments over the semester, but the memory of those moments fades as I face the stack of papers.

College is hard. For students and instructors.

I have the privilege of hanging out with an awesome group of college students who attend my church.  They tell me I should just give everyone Bs and be done. I can't do that.

And so I'm sitting here grading. Well, technically I'm procrastinating by putting my frustration in this blog, hoping and praying for renewed strength when I return to the stack of papers waiting for me.

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