Grading Tests part 2

My wife doesn't like to be in the same room with me while I'm grading tests. It's tedious, time-consuming work. And the less understanding a student has, the more time it takes to grade the test. By the time I'm finished, I'm usually in a very bad mood (as you can see by the cantankerousness of my previous post on Grading Tests).

But then, after a couple of days, I regain a degree of equanimity and I begin to think about the students. Is apathy really so rampant? Or could there be some other condition that makes it seem as if the students just don't care? My best guess is that most of these students who don't seem to care are just silent victims of ineffective, abusive or burned-out math teachers, and the parade of educational theories that are really more about helping PhD's get tenure than in helping students who need to learn math. I mean, can it really be the case that more than half of the students that are taking time out of their summer, as well as money out of their bank accounts, don't care about the course they're sacrificing so much to take? It seems more likely to me that most of these students have a bad case of learned helplessness, or something like it. It's as if they're thinking, "I never understand much of what goes on in math class. And the more I study, the more frustrated I get. So I'll limit my emotional involvement so that when I get a poor grade I won't want to open a vein."

When a student realizes that they've got half a dozen more math classes before they can get their degree, they've got much more motivation to try to change their attitudes, to pay attention to the fundamentals, to unlearn their helplessness. For that reason, it seems to me that I'll still want to teach developmental math even after I finish my master's degree. I know how to reach those students. But I'm not sure if there even is a way to influence students that are in their last math class required for their degree. What's their motivation?

Grading Tests

Arrggghhhh!!!!! I hate grading papers!

Every Summer my course load drops. So this year I decided to pick up some extra income by grading papers at the University where I'm pursuing my Master's degree in Math. What was I thinking?

It's the first test of the second semester calculus class, so many of the questions are review from Calc I. Not just some, but most of the students have no idea what they're doing. On the simple, point-for-the-taking questions, they have no clue. Why are they even in this class? They don't seem to care about learning the material. They don't seem to care about developing good work or study habits. They just want their degrees and their good paying jobs.

I see this same attitude in some of my students at the community college where I teach. But the math department at the CC has a strict grading scale; if students want to pass they have to learn the material. The same is not the case at the U. Students know that all they have to do is get higher scores than half the class and they'll get a C. It's common knowledge that any professor who flunks more than half of their class will draw the ire of parents desperate to protect their children from the consequences of their inactions. So the kids aren't stupid. It's socially acceptable, even cool, to hate math. They'd rather do something besides study. So they slack off and cross their fingers that half the class is more clueless than they are.

I talk to the old-timers and see that this trend has been going on for a while (I'll post the paper with the hard data as soon as I find it). The schools lower their standards to avoid parental complaints, and the students respond by lowering their standards even further. This should have been predictable when you've got a large percentage of students who are only interested in squeaking by with a C. How bad will it get before anything is done about it? If we take the public school system for an example, pretty bad.

Why I Teach

This is the week I get paid. No, there have been other weeks this semester when the college where I work has deposited money in my bank account. But this is finals week, when I receive the biggest payment of intangibles; this week, more than any other, is when I'm reminded why I love teaching.

Finals week payments have included:

• "This is the best grade I've ever gotten in a math class!"
• "You and prime factorization been such a blessing to me." [Such august company!]
  
• "I learned more this semester than I learned all through high school."
• And the always popular, "What are you teaching next semester?"

Now, I'm not trying to convince others that they should go into teaching. It is mostly a thankless job with a lot of frustrations (even at the college level), and low pay (especially at the college level). When the next semester starts in a couple of weeks, I know I'll have full classes the first week. The second week those who are just there to meet their welfare requirements or get student aid (return the textbooks and keep the money) will stop showing up forever. Others will slowly realize that this is no longer high school, so attendance isn't compulsory and they'll slowly fade from view.

Before the first test I'll hear disappointment if I don't tell them exactly what's on the test. And that ever-present, thoughtful, oh-so-helpful test prep question will make its first appearance for the semester. "How many questions will be on the test?" Followed by my equally helpful answer: "All of 'em."

After the first test I'll get a wave of requests to take the test late because Grandma just died (always Grandma) or the kids had to be rushed to the hospital. I used to ask for documentation in these cases, which I never got. But I've found that the path of least resistance is simply to offer my sympathies and ask them to make arrangements to take the test in another class before the absolute deadline, only about one in ten will follow through. The first test also brings a drop in attendance from those students who didn't take me seriously about the amount of time needed to succeed in math. Then in math classes there are the ubiquitous whines, "Do we have to do it this way?" And my response is, "No. They'll be offering this course again next semester."

Some of my classes start out with a review that lasts a couple of weeks. There are students in these classes who complain about being bored, then don't show up again until the first test, which they barely pass. Feeling they've hit on a good plan, they disappear for four weeks until test 2, which they fail with breath-taking displays of ignorance. Then I'll never see them again.

The week before finals brings another surge of e-mails from students who've missed more classes than they've made, neglected the on-line homework and quizzes and suddenly realize that they're going to fail. Will I kindly unlock their late assignments so that they can finish them? No. "But that's not fair. After all, I decided to care at the last minute."

But, as with so many things in life, if you choose to focus on the negative, the only success you'll have is in making yourself miserable. I choose to dwell on those students who've really worked hard to succeed in class. And all of my complaints pail when compared with the joy of seeing a student who has done well in a math class for the first time since elementary school, or made great progress with math anxiety or test anxiety. When I see them around the campus next semester (whether they've got me for a teacher or not) I see them standing straighter, their heads held higher.