4 Ways Grading Makes Me Feel Evil

This Friday, I will administer my first full scale exam to the students at my university class. We've covered five sections of International Relations, including measuring national power, human rights issues around the world, and the merits of global security.

When the exam is done, I will see just how much of the debate between communitarianism and individualism sunk in, or whether or not anyone truly read the section on weaknesses in the UN Peacekeeping Force. (Darling readers, can YOU tell me three things that are wrong with international security protocols as exemplified by UN Peacekeepers?)

And as I grade, I will start to feel like the Wicked Witch of the West(ern Hemisphere).

1. Grading exams makes you doubt the intelligence of humanity. This has been true of every class I've ever taught. Like the kid in my Saturday class who would have passed had he not skipped three test sections, exams are full of little errors that will make the teacher crabby.
   
   
2. Crabby teachers should not grade essay questions. My inner grammar girl jumps to the forefront, channeling my 4th grade teacher with her box where we could turn in our fellow student's grammar errors for more points. It's like my eyes open to see every last comma error and bit of awkward phrasing, to the point that I find it hard to focus on the actual test response. This makes it take a long time, and I get more crabby, and the essay pages start to drip with red ink and comments.
   
   
3. Someone will ask me for a bit of extra "help". I will shoot them down. This will make me feel mean, even though it's only being fair to everyone not to give extra help, answers, or points to one student.
   
   
4. I will hand out an F. At least one. Some will not care because they knew it was coming. Some will cry. Some will be in big trouble at home. In Ecuador, some will take the class again (and they charge you extra tuition your second time through, a nice incentive to study). Someone's life will be thrown off course, made more stressful, or flat out ruined because of my big, red F. I will feel bad about this.

Still, despite all the reasons that grading makes me feel evil, it's still what I will be doing with at least part of my Saturday. Nebraska doesn't play anymore football until the end of the month, so there will be no afternoon game to save me . . . or my students . . . from quality time with the red pen.

I'm The Teacher, Dammit

Yesterday leaving class, I hopped in a cab. It was 11 am, and a beautiful day was ahead of me. Of work. Whatever, it was nice out and I was looking forward to a ride home with the windows down.

Little did I know the third degree that was about to result. I mean, I'm used to chatting with the local taxistas, but sheesh was I ever getting a cross examination! Where was I going? Why? Weren't there more classes in the afternoon? How many hours of class had I already done?

Eventually, he asked what I studied. I said, "I'm the International Relations teacher."

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH. Well, didn't that change things. Apparently, my taxi driver is the unofficial director of his own one man truancy squad, and had thought I was a lazy student skipping out on my afternoon classes. He was totally apologetic about grilling me.

In some ways, I get where he's coming from. Skipping is a problem, and the university actually has attendance policies that fail you if you miss too much class. The kicker was when he said I looked too young to be a teacher.

My students said this to me today too, when one of them asked how old I was. They don't believe I'm 30 on my way to 31.

On one hand, completely fine and awesome. I blend in on campus walking around, and who wants to look like an old lady? On the other hand, well, I AM A TEACHER HERE. I'm not a student, and sometimes I need to be teacher-y about things and its frustrating when administrators and others think you're just another enrollee. I got the hairy eye in the teacher's lounge the other day until I started grading some stuff, and when I hand out grades I want to be viewed as an authority and not the "big sister" or a peer.

So . . . in a completely odd train of thought . . . I'm trying to think about how to come across as older. It's like my freshman year of college all over again, and it feels a little weird. We'll just see how it goes . . .