Friday, September 19, 2008
Rusty Familiarity
So here I am again. It's a little past 7 in the morning and in a few moments I shall be starting my commute to sit in front of a group of students whom I've never met to teach them a subject I only tentatively understand using a lesson plan whose success remains entirely uncertain.
Yes, that sinking feeling in my stomach can only mean one thing: It's the first day of school!
Now granted, T.A.'ing (or "precepting" as they call it at Old Ivy) an undergraduate course on the history of modern science is a far cry from introducing unwilling ninth graders to the wonders of basic chemistry. These students have, at least in theory, all proven their intelligence, capacity for self-motivation, and interest in the subject just by getting to this point in their academic careers. And this course, taught by my advisor, covers the period of my general examination's major field, so I basically spent all of last year preparing for this moment.
Still, I have my concerns. Unlike at Underwood, I am not going to be lecturing to these students, but rather attempting to get them actively engaged in discussion surrounding a primary source document. (In this case, a piece of natural philosophic correspondence from the early 18th century.) If my old work was similar to that of a stand-up comedian, who labors for months behind the scenes crafting just the right material for a given evening on stage, this is going to be more like an improv group which relies on active audience participation. These are two very different things, and the latter presents all manner of uncertainty. How, pray tell, can I guarantee effective (and balanced) engagement from all seminar participants, especially since one section is at the depressingly early hour (for college students) of 9 AM? My old and familiar lesson planning techniques may have to fall by the wayside. In effect, I'm working somewhat without a net.
Fortunately, the structure of the course might remedy that problem somewhat. The professor has mandated that each week we discuss only a single primary source and students are required to submit a reading response about that source by 6 PM the night before. For me, that's 6 PM on Thursday. Almost everyone got their comments in on time and their ideas helped me structure discussion more effectively. There were a few misspelled words (e.g. "rebuttle") and one egregiously late submission sent out at midnight, but otherwise the papers were quite helpful in determining what students didn't understand or wanted to discuss.
We'll see whether or not the discussion I have planned for today effectively taps into that classroom zeitgeist. Hopefully, no one, including myself, will entirely dominate the conversation, and everyone (also including myself) will come away feeling more confident about their ability to face the rest of the semester.
If I have enough energy, I'll post a recap tonight to let you know how things go.
For now, it's time to hit the road. This seminar isn't going to teach itself, you know!
So here I am again. It's a little past 7 in the morning and in a few moments I shall be starting my commute to sit in front of a group of students whom I've never met to teach them a subject I only tentatively understand using a lesson plan whose success remains entirely uncertain.
Yes, that sinking feeling in my stomach can only mean one thing: It's the first day of school!
Now granted, T.A.'ing (or "precepting" as they call it at Old Ivy) an undergraduate course on the history of modern science is a far cry from introducing unwilling ninth graders to the wonders of basic chemistry. These students have, at least in theory, all proven their intelligence, capacity for self-motivation, and interest in the subject just by getting to this point in their academic careers. And this course, taught by my advisor, covers the period of my general examination's major field, so I basically spent all of last year preparing for this moment.
Still, I have my concerns. Unlike at Underwood, I am not going to be lecturing to these students, but rather attempting to get them actively engaged in discussion surrounding a primary source document. (In this case, a piece of natural philosophic correspondence from the early 18th century.) If my old work was similar to that of a stand-up comedian, who labors for months behind the scenes crafting just the right material for a given evening on stage, this is going to be more like an improv group which relies on active audience participation. These are two very different things, and the latter presents all manner of uncertainty. How, pray tell, can I guarantee effective (and balanced) engagement from all seminar participants, especially since one section is at the depressingly early hour (for college students) of 9 AM? My old and familiar lesson planning techniques may have to fall by the wayside. In effect, I'm working somewhat without a net.
Fortunately, the structure of the course might remedy that problem somewhat. The professor has mandated that each week we discuss only a single primary source and students are required to submit a reading response about that source by 6 PM the night before. For me, that's 6 PM on Thursday. Almost everyone got their comments in on time and their ideas helped me structure discussion more effectively. There were a few misspelled words (e.g. "rebuttle") and one egregiously late submission sent out at midnight, but otherwise the papers were quite helpful in determining what students didn't understand or wanted to discuss.
We'll see whether or not the discussion I have planned for today effectively taps into that classroom zeitgeist. Hopefully, no one, including myself, will entirely dominate the conversation, and everyone (also including myself) will come away feeling more confident about their ability to face the rest of the semester.
If I have enough energy, I'll post a recap tonight to let you know how things go.
For now, it's time to hit the road. This seminar isn't going to teach itself, you know!
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