Reflections on the Year and Extant Coverings: Not to Be Confused with Textiles Produced and Exported from Persia to Europe in the Sixteenth Century

In case you're wondering, I've been filling my brain with Middle East history the last couple of days, in an effort to prepare myself for the course I'll be teaching come September. And I was consumed with a desire to create a really long blog title, just to see if it could be done and what it would look like. Plus I think some of the erudition to which I have been exposed is rubbing off on me, so I have to show it by creating a long title worthy of a dissertation. But I digress.

The school year is over. The last exam has been corrected, the last grade verified and turned in, the last book stored away. They await another crop of eager, fresh-faced students, soon to be weirded out by my enthusiasm for history, overwhelmed by my high expectations, yet inspired by my natural charisma, which will push them to succeed beyond their wildest dreams (hey, it never hurts to set high goals as a teacher, even if I'm not there yet!). Despite various trials and tribulations, the year has been a very good one. It was better than the first, and the first wasn't even all that bad. But I enjoyed this year much better. And I think I like the second year's crop of students even better than the first (though don't tell them I said that!) I worked graduation again this year, and it was nice to be able to go around and extend good wishes to students I had in class the year before. Next year there will be about twice as many students in that category, many more of whom I think I have bonded with better than the first year.

I learned from some of my rookie mistakes, too. The first year I gave an end of the year survey shortly after three significant assignments had been turned in, within about a month's time. The survey was anonymous, and asked questions like "If you could change one thing about this class, what would it be?" and "Any other comments about this class." This set the stage for trouble. Those who were enraged with my grading, the workload, or whatever, often felt emboldened to complain vociferously about the class, and think they were anonymous in doing so. (They weren't really, as I had writing samples to match them up with if I cared to do so.) Comments included things like "I'd change the teacher," "The grading wasn't fair, I got marked down for things I wasn't told about," and "You don't get a good grade if you're smart, only if you work hard." Though all were not harsh, I wasn't particularly encouraged reading these surveys. It was somewhat depressing.

I did put parts of them to good use. I selected pieces of advice given for future classes and provided it as a handout to next year's class on the first day of school. Advice included things like "Do all your homework, it's hell to pull yourself back up if you get behind," "Don't mess with [my name]," "Don't believe all the rumors about [my name]," "Do your work and you'll be fine," etc. I then used it as a wakeup call to students to let them know that if they wanted to survive they would have to work. Most got the message, though a few of them will be taking the same course next year, and perhaps wishing they had listened a little closer the first time around.

Remembering that disheartening episode, I planned for a much different outcome this time around. This time I made one of the three assignments optional. It was an extra credit opportunity for those who wanted to help themselves. Then I planned a party for the classes to celebrate the hard work they had done. Then I gave them the surveys on the same day as the party, as or after they were all stuffing their faces with food and drink. Smart, huh? I think so! I took to heart a comment of a more experienced teacher who suggested that the current state of mind of a student had a lot to do with the feedback they would give. This time, the state of mind was a little better.

I also changed the survey to discourage those cowards who might want to take cheap shots in anonymity. I had them put their name on the survey. I narrowed the scope and content of the questions. I eliminated the "What would you change?" question and focused on the positive, such as subjects they enjoyed, things they liked about the class, etc. I still gave opportunity for them to advise future students. A few took cheap shots, like "take a higher level class, it'll be easier," or "get a different teacher." However, this time I'm accustomed to dealing with such immaturity, so it's not as big a deal. The kicker question was the last one. "Other comments to make [my name] happy, or convince him that he has taught a group of diligent, hard-working and mature students this year."

How's that for using a little psychological warfare? Brilliant, or what? I then told students that the survey was not designed for them to spout about how they hated the class. After all, if they did, I probably knew that already. Instead I told them it was an opportunity to provide constructive feedback.

The results were significantly different from last year. I also hope and have reason to think they were genuine. There was little reason for students to say nice things just because they wanted to make me happy. They knew it wouldn't change their academic standing. Some paraphrased comments:
"Before I thought history was boring, but you made it interesting."
"Thanks for believing in me" [from a student who had been lazy early on, but I had challenged her to maximize her potential, which is significant, and she picked things up admirably the rest of the year]
"I'm thankful to have a class where we actually learned something"
"This was one of the best classes I have had for how it prepared me for college"
"Despite what people say, you're an awesome teacher"
"Although at times I didn't enjoy it and complained, it was gratifying to earn a good grade, because I worked hard for it"
"Overall I enjoyed the class"
"Although at times the class was challenging and you graded hard, I enjoyed it"

These comments served as the kind of instant gratification for teaching that teachers aren't supposed to get. Students aren't supposed to say these things, until they are old and show up at your funeral, or if you're lucky at their school's fortieth anniversary or something.

Now to the covering part. After feeling very good about the whole year, on the last work day I went to a faculty shindig to socialize a bit, and got into a conversation with an English teacher. She expressed concern, because some of our mutual students came to her and expressed a fear that they didn't know how to write, because they got a bad grade on their research paper in my class. They were too scared to come and talk to me about it, thought I wouldn't care anyway, felt they were failures, etc. (This from one of the students who enjoyed the class overall!) Uh oh. The teacher encouraged the students to talk to me about their paper. But they never did. I was not surprised to hear of one of the student's worries, but was that another who I have a really good relationship with (in fact, she signed up to take another class with me) felt that way. Either it was a temporary feeling that was assuaged by later comments I made to her to build her up, or there's a serious lack of understanding about how I feel about my students, including her.

I think two things should be learned from this:

1. There's a great need to emphasize my care and concern for each student and their success, and to plead with them to talk to me about any grading they don't understand. I have done this a lot already, so was surprised to hear they were still scared/thought I didn't care. But maybe it needs to be repeated more. Or maybe I should try and speak to all students who get a poor grade, if I think they care.

2. That phenomenon referred to by some as the "covering." Generally the covering is spoken of as preventing people from seeing the reality of the things of God. But I have concluded that it can include veiling those who are bearing testimony to the character of God. This would certainly include compassion, concern, desire to see people do well, etc. I suspect the covering is a barrier--fortunately not insuperable--that has to be dealt with before students can clearly see and understand how I might feel toward them. If they could, they might know more about how God feels about them as well.