Coffee heat rising

Making $7,390 stretch for a year…and living decently

Okay, so just now $7,390 is left of the $28,000 of layoff savings that I entered unemployment with 18 months ago. This little stash, which I found sitting in my various bank accounts as my fine former job wound to a close, has been supporting me, along with Social Security and the irregular pittance I earn as an adjunct professor of English, while I try to delay having to draw down my IRA and brokerage accounts.

It’s lasted longer than anyone thought it would, and with any luck at all, it’s about to last another year.

The other day I revisited my ultracomplicated cash flow scheme, largely because I need to find a way to extract more monthly spending money from this Pushmi-Pullyu. The truth is, I’m not giving myself enough to live on comfortably. It was tight when I started a year and a half ago, but the increases in food and fuel costs (not inflation, right?), along with a never-ending slew of unplanned expenses, lately have made it impossible to stay on budget. I’ve been allocating $800 for discretionary expenses (a total of $2050 a month for all expenses, discretionary and fixed), when the fact is I really need something more like $1,500, for a total of around $2,750.

Unless a miracle happens (for example, I land that one-year-only job or, more likely, win the lottery), not only am I never going to earn any more than the $19,200 I’m making this year, my earned income actually is going to drop $2,400, because of the recently announced tightening of the noose around the adjuncts’ necks.

That means, I guess, the allocation from this serendipitous little “survival fund” will have to be adjusted.

Also, I’d like to simplify my bookkeeping.

What I have been doing is when money comes in, I transfer some of it to the joint account from which M’hijito and I pay the mortgage on the submerged house, transfer some of it to a self-escrow account for paying insurance and tax bills, transfer some into a short-term emergency and diddle-it-away fund, keep some of it in my checking account, and transfer $1060 from the survival fund to make up the shortfall between income and outgo. This complex shuffle no longer suffices to cover expenses. Way complicated!

So, I’ve cooked up something slightly different. In some ways, it’s six of one, half-a-dozen of the other (or, could we say, robbing Peter to pay Paul?). But it’ll give me a little bit more money—raising the discretionary budget to about $1,100 most (but not all) months—and the process will be simpler. I can’t afford the amount I actually need, but even a little increase will help.

Instead of moving money from Survival Savings to checking in amounts that supplement Social Security and teaching  pay, I’m going to go the other way around: move every penny of income—Social Security, teaching, bank heists, windfalls—from checking to Survival Savings. Then, once a month, I’ll pay myself $2,300. If any cash is left from the previous month’s budget, I’ll just “top up” the checking account to reach a base figure of $2,300.

This gives me a raise of about $250 a month, which I hope will cover the increase in routine expenses.

The problem with figuring out whether this will work and what it will do to the Survival Fund’s longevity is the extreme irregularity and unpredictability of adjunct income. From pay period to pay period, I rarely know what my check is going to hold. One week I can get $300, and two weeks later it’ll be $800 or $1,000, with no clear rhyme nor reason. HR seems not to know how to figure out what one will be paid, and not being an accountant, I can’t even make an educated guess. All I know is that during the summer when I most need extra money, my teaching pay drops into the basement, and during the month between fall and spring semesters I get nothing.

The only way to project the effectiveness of this scheme—and the length of time the Survival Fund will last—is to enter 2010-11 pay amounts into a spreadsheet showing how the new transfer scheme will work.

The upshot is surprisingly positive. Well…all things considered. Transfers into and out of Survival Savings  look like this:

If my amazingly tedious calculations are correct, Survival Savings will run out in August 2012. At that time, I’ll have to cash in a whole life policy; the post-tax balance from that will probably stretch another year or 18 months. After that…well, let’s hope the stock market is doing OK, because at that point I’ll have to start drawing down investments.

During the winter break and the month or so of summer that I’ll have no income, I’ll have to drop my living-expenses budget back to its present level, $2,090. This will be difficult next summer, because utilities are so high during the heat and because, as we’ve observed for the second summer running, everything goes wrong when you can least afford it. However…that comes under the heading of tough nougies.

If all this comes to pass as estimated (a very big If, indeed), then I should be able to live adequately and pay my share of the mortgage without exhausting Survival Savings until a year from this August. Might even be able to stretch it out for another month or two, if I can keep expenses significantly under $2,300 for several of the cooler months. That’s not unreasonable; when nondiscretionary bills are at their lowest, I can have a surplus of $300 or $400. Four of those would keep that $7,390 grubstake going through September.

Obviously, I’m not thrilled at the precariousness of this system. On the other hand… I feel like it’s really not too bad. If in fact the insurance payout will last another 18 months or so, then I will have succeeded in pushing back the time I’ll have to draw down investments for four years after Canning Day.

Those investments have about recovered their former, pre-Crash glory. Assuming our esteemed leaders don’t bring on another market crash with their grandstanding shenanigans, a 4 or 5 percent drawdown plus Social Security (assuming, again, that it still exists in 2013 or so) should cover my expenses and pay the mortgage—without benefit of flakey part-time teaching income.

Another Shafting for Adjuncts, Comin’ Our Way

We’re told, through a listserv published for community college district adjuncts, that the policy for adjunct faculty is to be rabidly enforced. We are NOT TO BE TEACHING more than three sections a semester.

Interestingly, that appears to include summer sessions. That is, your summer session time is counted in to your academic-year teaching hours, somehow, through the magic of accounting sleight-of-hand. You get a few extra hours beyond 20 per week per semester, but that would allow you to take on only one course in the summer. If you teach any more than that (this summer, I have two), you will be forced into the state pension plan, in which there is no chance you will ever become vested (you have to work for the State of Arizona or Maricopa County for 10 years to become vested!).

Your “contribution” to the state pension plan is 11.13%. In other words, if you dare to take on one course too many, if you perform any substitute teaching, or if you serve on any committees, you get an 11.3% pay cut. Thus your unpenalizable salary is kept rigidly low, and you are smartly punished if you make a mistake.

Now… Each time a contract ends—which happens at the end of each term—you are considered “terminated” from state service. Therefore, you can fill out forms and jump through hoops and demand that the “contribution” be refunded to you.

Thus it’s not exactly a pay cut.

It’s less of a pay cut if you’re over 57½, because once you’ve reached the age at which you’re permitted to take drawdowns from tax-deferred savings, you may take out the money without a penalty from the feds.

If you’re too young to take out money from a tax-deferred plan, then the only way to hang on to what you’ve earned is to roll it over into an IRA.

Well, of course…you wouldn’t be working for $2,400 a semester if you didn’t need the cash flow, and need it in a big way. So what this amounts to is a nice little shafting and another tool to keep adjuncts down.

Since I can get the money back at the end of each semester, it won’t much matter to me. As long as my chair can get away with it, I’ll take on two summer courses and just let the SOBs confiscate 11.13% of my pay; then take it back when I’m “terminated” at the end of each semester. For me, it will just mean another helping of bureaucratic hassle.

It still will provide enough to pay my share of the mortgage on the downtown house, plus a few extra dollars to help make ends meet. I sure could do without having to fill out more forms and argue with more bureaucrats, though. Gawd, how I hate that!

First Day of Class

Four and a half straight hours on my feet entertaining 50+ freshman students is…a lot. One class is overenrolled, so the total number of classmates is, at this time, well over 50. Some will drop, no doubt, but I don’t entertain much hope that the total will fall far.

Fortunately, the 101 course is a five-week session, so they’ll be out of our hair soon enough. Then for two weeks, I’ll only have 25 Eng. 102 students…or however many have survived by then.

The pavement out there is so hot that the soles of my sandals got hot enough, while I was traipsing back and forth between the classroom building and my car, to burn the bottoms of my feet. Had to make two round trips to the car to haul the massive course packets—two rolling suitcases full of the damn things. My feet aren’t quite blistered, but they’re still red and sore, two hours later.

It’s only 105 degrees today, not really very hot. But it’s soggy wet out there. Yesterday after I hung up the laundry, it took eight hours for a bath towel to hang dry. Normally a heavy terry-cloth bath towel would dry on the line in 45 minutes or an hour.

To frost the cake, I’m getting a sore throat. Just what I needed to start the semester: hot feet and a summer cold! 😀

Yesterday M’hijito invited me to a July 4 party at his house. It was a lot of fun—his friends are young couples with toddlers, very cute to watch and play with. But soooo hot! He thinks his air conditioning isn’t cooling the house because of the single-paned windows and doors, but I don’t think that’s the explanation. Something’s out of whack there: I’ve lived in many a house glazed with single-paned windows and French doors and never had the AC not cool the interior. Cost more to run: yes. Fail to operate: no.

So now I’ve got to talk him into letting me call an AC company to see why that’s happening.

My own allegedly ultra-efficient air-conditioning unit has been running almost nonstop and struggling to cool the rooms. Where the old clunk kept the front of the house cool and left the bedrooms hot, this new model cools the bedrooms pretty efficiently but leaves a lot to be desired in the public rooms. With the thermostat set at 80, the kitchen/dining room/family room is 84 and the back rooms are around 81 or 82. The other day I shoved a chair into the hall and parked next to the thermostat to read copy. Not very successful: the dog thought this signaled the start of a great game and so would not leave me alone, and it was dark and gloomy in there. Rather be hot in a brighter, more cheerful room.

Yesterday I determined to clean the filthy house and wash the laundry and do the ironing before today’s classes started, which meant having to get through those jobs in time to leave for M’hijito’s house around 3:00 p.m.

Thought I was gunna die pounding through all that physical labor in the heat. Naturally, it turned into one of those interruption-every-ten-minutes days. Pool had to be backwashed and fixed in the middle of everything; that’s just the most memorable of the drop-what-you’re-doing, tend-to-something-else, try-to-go-back-to-work moments.

Anyway, the house is now nice and clean, but by the time I got to M’hijito’s place I was so tired I could barely speak, much less hold a polite conversation. Had to leave early, before the dessert and fireworks, because I couldn’t hold my head up another minute.

Crawled into bed before dark and actually slept half-way decently. That meant getting up at 5:00 a.m. was no problem.

The idea of measuring out the dog’s food and setting up everything for breakfast the night before worked well this morning: it took all of two minutes to fix food. I may want to make that a permanent fixture, since getting ready in the morning can sometimes be a time-wasting hassle.

Okay…rest break over! Now to figure out which of these students really are and which really are not in my courses.

Off the Grid!

Wow! I can’t believe it: I’m now free of Blackboard!

Everything the comp students could possibly need online henceforth resides, as of this moment, at WordPress.com. I’ve transferred all the course materials, all the links, and all the weekly announcements, and I’ve invented a way for students to post drafts and peer reviews at the site.

For communication, I’ve set up g-mail accounts for each course, so that instead of getting lost in the flood of junkmail the college district dumps in my in-box, students’ messages will arrive in their own neatly filtered in-boxes. All the student e-mails from 102 will come to one place; all from 101 to another place; all from 235 to a third place. It’ll be easy to spot who the senders are and what they need. In theory, we probably could use Google’s instant messaging or chat for real-time conversation, but I’d just as soon not have them in my face outside of class hours.

And in Google Docs I’ve set up spreadsheets to track grades for all three classes, neatly clustered in a single workbook. These were incredibly easy to organize—much, much simpler than the time-consuming, ditzy process of setting up Blackboard’s grade book.

LOL! What’s happened here is that I’ve created my own course management system using Blackboard and Google. It’s not all-in-one, but it’s so much faster, easier, and reliable that whatever the drawbacks to having the grades & messaging in Google, they’ll be worth it.

Click on the image to see a larger version.

I’ve categorized the weekly “learning module” announcements by term lengths: five-week courses, seven-week courses, sixteen-week courses. Once I have them all written, these can reside on the server as unpublished posts until they’re needed. Then when I’m assigned, say, a five-week course, I can filter posts by the “5-week modules” category, access them easily, and simply reset the scheduled publication date. At the end of each course, I unpublish everything; tweak whatever needs to be tweaked (these are set up to be as timeless as possible), and then schedule them all to go back up at the desired intervals.

Same with the “Assignments” categories: the copy in the “draft” posts (where students will post their drafts and peer reviews as comments) is as plain-vanilla as possible, so these can be recycled with little revision.

Freestanding items such as the syllabus, course calendar, instructor’s e-mail, and the like are posted in pages, which in the Twenty Ten theme appear in the banner’s bottom margin:

I’ve deep-sixed the “Blogroll” and replaced it with “Resources,” a list of links to various sites and tools that may help the students.

This is all the same stuff that resided in Blackboard, except it’s all on one page, and its organization is intuitive to young people who are accustomed to navigating the Web. One thing you can say about Blackboard (of the many things you could say about it…) is that it’s about as unintuitive as unintuitive gets.

And one thing you can say about WordPress.com, of the several things you could say, it does not go down!

Oh, and what else can we say about it?

It does not refuse to accept a PowerPoint presentation.
It does not turn posting a video into a trip to Hades and back.
It does not inform you that because you were stupid enough to download the latest Firefox or IE upgrade, you can no longer access your course.
It does not inflict changes that require whole new learning curves every couple of years.
When the WordPress folks install an upgrade or a new tool, it does not cause the entire system to crash.
Nor does it disable the very part of the system that you were using to drive a key part of your pedagogy.
It does not make you jump through a half-dozen hoops to send an e-mail to a student.
It does not present functions that stop working and are never fixed.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is better even than being off the electric grid. At least the utility companies function. Most of the time.

Lady Cruella, Ph.D.

Real life in the American college classroom: fearfully fearsome


We have witness what some would call the most fearsomeness creature of all time do horrible things to the environment, and in the last century we have also witnessed conservation at it’s best from that creature, man.

—Real, unedited copy from a real, unedited student

Contemplating this summer’s and next fall’s freshman comp courses, I’ve decided I’ve had it with spending more time grading student papers than the students spend writing them. And I’ve also had it with wasting my time trying to teach people things they should have learned in grade school. If they haven’t learned it by now, they’re not going to learn it.

Hence: the New Regime of Lady Cruella, Ph.D.

Yesterday I came up with a new set of grading rubrics designed to cut the vast number of hours required to grade the endless 2,500-word English 102 term papers required by the District. The underlying assumptions are

a) that I’m justified in expecting them to have paid attention in class, to have done the reading assignments, and to have learned such mind-bogglingly challenging concepts as paragraph organization and logical thematic structure;

b) that if you expect students to proofread their papers and to go to the writing center when they’re genuinely so illiterate they can’t write a competent sentence, they eventually will;

c) that they should fail for plagiarizing copy and for turning in papers written for other courses that don’t even fit the assignment;

d) that they should be expected to turn in a paper that fits the assignment in content, form, and length;

e) that I should not be expected to read papers than run more than about 200 words longer than the assigned 2,500 words; and

f) at the college level they should know basic grammar, punctuation, and vocabulary.

Is that asking too much?

Well, yes. Probably. But I no longer care.

Here’s how I’m gonna do this.

First, the plagiarism-blocking and bullshit-discouragement scheme:

The student wrote:

There are many reasons for such a high divorce rate, but one of the main theories is that people do not realize what they are getting themselves into when they marry. Couples do not realize that marriage is a job that must be worked at continuously in order for it to go well. Because many couples marry for the wrong reasons couple’s tend to grow apart. This process, all too often, ends in divorce.

 

The term paper mill’s author wrote:

According to recent statistics, there are more divorces now than ever before.  At the rate things are going, the divorce rate may soon surpass the marriage  rate. There are many reasons for such a high divorce rate, but one of the main  ones is that people do not realize what they are getting themselves into when  they marry. Couples do not realize that marriage is a job that must be worked at  continuously in order for it to go well. Because many couples marry for the  wrong reasons, a breakdown in communication results, which leads to a couple’s  growing apart. This process, all too often, ends in divorce.

At the beginning of the semester I divide each class into three groups. These groups will be assigned specific broad topics, all three of which are loosely related. For example: the Great Depression in Arizona, Arizona’s Centennial, and Urbanization and the Environment in Arizona. I locate at least one substantial, solid piece of writing on each topic and make it available to the classmates, and also give them a few bibliographical resources to get them started.

Now, each group has to address the same topic throughout the semester. Group members write each of their three papers on the same topic, and they work together to track down research and to peer-review each others’ work. So, Group 1 classmates would write, say, an extended definition, a causal analysis, and an argumentive position paper on the Great Depression in Arizona. They would work together to learn about the history, choose appropriate topics, understand what “extended definition” means and  how each person could write such a paper around some aspect of the Depression in this state, and to peer review each others’ drafts. Occasionally, they would give a presentation about their topic based on what they’ve learned so far. And finally, each person would turn in his or her extended definition paper. When they’re graded, the papers would be cleaned up and posted (sans grades, of course) on the course’s website, so classmates could read them

Then, when they go to do their next paper—say, a causal analysis on the same broad topic—they would of course have to dig up some fresh reference material, but each writer will also be allowed to use and cite one classmate’s extended definition as a source for this second paper. The final, long argumentation paper will also address the same topic, and here they could use no more than one classmate’s previous paper among their sources.

This will allow them to build toward their final paper, rather than giving them leeway to pick unrelated topics, which leaves them having to start from scratch on the 2,500-word magnum opus. Because the three topics would be loosely related, classmates in Group 1 might find useful ideas in Group 2 or Group 3 papers (and so on around the Maypole). It would cause a certain amount of cross-pollination, maybe introduce them to the concepts of collegiality and national discourse, and with any luck keep them rolling forward through the semester. And because the topics are so limited they’re unlikely to be covered in depth on Wikipedia, it would limit the opportunities for plagiarism. It will also block them from writing on the usual clichéd topics.

Then, the boot camp phase:

In the course of studying for and writing the first two papers—which at 750 words are relatively short—they’ll come to understand what is expected in terms of research, citation and documentation, organization, and basic grammar and structure. They will get feedback on all of these. So, the final paper will amount to a kind of final exam: here’s where they show what they can do.

By the time they get to the monster final paper, I will have explained that a rhetorical question is not a thesis statement, and discussed (again!) what a thesis statement is and how it works. Students will have been exposed to the basic style and grammar reviews, to concepts of logical thinking and fact-checking, and to ways to identify and use credible sources. Given the standardized tests the public schools are now making them take, I think we should be allowed to assume they already have basic writing skills and to dock them points when they display their illiteracy.

Then, for the final paper, I’m changing the rubrics so that I no longer will have to mark ditzy little errors but may inflict a substantial hit for significant flaws. Videlicet:

Point Value Starting value Parameters for this assignment:
100
0 Content
100 Essay contains no examples of provable plagiarism, intentional or not.
100 Essay addresses an aspect of the project assigned to the author’s group, and the essay is a position paper, as described in the Seyler textbook and in class.
30 Essay may incorporate research and commentary used in the term’s two shorter essays, but must effectively work this material into the author’s position argument.
30 Author makes a clear claim and qualifies it as necessary (and in doing so makes it evident that he or she knows what is meant by claim and qualification).
30 Author supports her or his position with logical argument and takes a courteous, conciliatory tone.
50 Author uses facts and expert opinion gathered from credible sources to support the position. Essay contains adequate facts and expert opinion to support the author’s claim.
0 Organization
40 A thesis statement appears in the first or second paragraph.
10 The thesis statement is not phrased as a rhetorical question.
30 The essay is divided into coherent paragraphs (coherent means each paragraph hangs together logically). That is, each paragraph contains 

1. a topic sentence (a topic sentence says what the paragraph is about);

2. at least two to five sentences explaining the point to be made in that paragraph;

3. specific details, such as facts or examples.

The ideas within each paragraph are organized in logical, easy-to-follow order.

20 The paragraphs throughout the essay are organized in logical order. They are connected logically with good transitions. Author may use subheadings to help reader follow the argument.
100 If no paragraphing appears, the essay is a failing paper.
0 Logical thinking and fact-checking
30 Author does not succumb to baloney found in questionable sources (see “Baloney Detection Kit” site and video).
30 Essay is free of logical fallacies and factual errors.
0 Form and format
10–30 Essay is within 200 words of the assigned 2,500 words. 

More 200 words ±: -10
200 to 300 words ±: -20
More than 300 words ±: -30

15 Essay is formatted according to MLA style (described at the Purdue website and in your handouts)
50 Essay’s arguments are supported with facts and argument gathered in research. Sources for all of these are cited in MLA style.
50 Each source is documented in a Works Cited section, following correct MLA style for Works Cited entries.
50 The essay has at least a half-dozen credible sources. Of these, at least three must be hard-copy sources (i.e., from print documents found in a library or in the library’s databases). All sources must be peer-reviewed articles or books, unless there is a clear reason otherwise. No more than three can come from the World Wide Web.
20–100 Each fact that is not widely known, each original argument or finding from a source, each direct quotation, and each paraphrase must be cited in-text, following MLA style. Honest errors: -20, The following errors will be regarded as plagiarism (-100 points; see above):  

• using a source’s wording without putting it in quotation marks;

• incorporating word-for-word passages in attempts at paraphrase without placing them in quotation marks;

• paraphrased passages that are not cited in-text.

0 Composition and Language Skills
10–30 Sentence structure is accurate, idiomatic, formal, and coherent. Sentences contain no comma splices or run-ons, and the paper is free of sentence fragments. Sentence error point values: 

2–5 errors: –10
5–10 errors: –20
More than 10 errors: –30

10–30 Writing is free of grammar, style, and punctuation errors, especially those described in the Dress Your Writing for Success handouts. Point values: 

2–5 errors: -10
5–10 errors: –20
More than 10 errors: –30

10–30 Writing is free of spelling errors. Point values: 

2–5 errors: –10
5–10 errors: –20
More than 10 errors: –30

10–30 Word choice is accurate: the words mean what the author thinks they mean. 

2–5 errors: –10
5–10 errors: –20
More than 10 errors: –30

total = percent score on this paper
x 3 = point score on this paper

 

In my rubrics, students start with 100 points and lose points for various specified errors. If a screw-up is not listed on the rubric, points are not deducted; I note the problem and explain it but can’t mark off points unless I’ve anticipated the whacko things they’re likely to do.

As you can see, some of these are big hits. But I figure this: if the student hasn’t learned to write in paragraphs, she’s not doing A or B work in a college-level course in composing college-level papers. If the student hasn’t learned to write a paper based on credible, well documented sources, he shouldn’t be passing a college-level course in writing source-based papers. And a ten-page paper that contains more than ten basic grammar, punctuation, spelling, and vocabulary errors should not receive a grade higher than a C.

In this brave new world, here’s the technique for using the rubrics:

1. Look at the essay quickly to see if it fulfills the assignment. If not, mark it –100 and do not read anything more. State briefly why the paper fails to meet the assignment’s parameters.

2. If the writing is too smooth for a freshman, google a few lines. If there’s any sign of real plagiarism, –100. Identify the plagiarized passage(s) and do not do any further work on the thing.

3. Look for a thesis statement. If it’s missing, unidentifiable, or hopelessly weak, –30 points.

4. Look quickly at paragraph coherence. If even one paragraph is incoherent, –30 points. If the essay is one long piece of toilet paper with no paragraph breaks, give it a –100. But if the student has at least made a pass at paragraph breaks, do not subtract more than 30 points for incoherence: it’s –30 for any amount of incoherence.

***

At this point, look at the bottom line. If the paper starts out with a -60 because of organizational issues, stop grading. The paper has already failed and there’s no point in continuing.

***

5. Look for flaws in logical thinking and factuality. One truly stupid error is docked –30. If it’s just teenage naiveté (“women in the 1950s dressed elegantly to do housework: I learned that from watching I Love Lucy videos”) or mild stupidity and not a howler, warn the student but let it go. In this case, make it –30 for every truly howling bêtise and glaring error.

***

If a logical error on top of an organizational error knocks 60 points off the score, stop grading. Don’t waste time on a paper that has already failed.

***

{cackle!} You begin to see the potential for work abatement, eh?

6. Finally, look for errors of style, grammar, and spelling. Don’t correct them and don’t identify them in comments; just highlight them. Color-code the highlights: say, pink for sentence structure, pale yellow for grammar, punctuation, & style, pale green for spelling errors, pale blue for incorrect word choices. Then it will be easy to add them up. Subtract points as indicated in the rubrics. In the case of relatively minor errors, if the author repeats the same, identical mistake (say, a misspelling or misapprehension of a word’s meaning), highlight and count it only once. But count each fused sentence, fragment, subject-verb agreement issue, and pronoun-antecedent agreement flub as separate issues (i.e., if the author has three fused sentences, she has three errors, not one error for not learning what a comma splice is).

***

Keep an eye on the total of these deductions. The minute the total score drops below 60 points (the lowest D), stop grading. As soon as it’s clear a paper is going to fail, stop reading it.

***

It should be easy to spot items 1 through 5 quickly, in a brief read-through. Plagiarism, failure to address the assignment, and null paragraphing will flunk the paper, obviating the need to read it closely. Any two 30-point deductions (items 3, 4, and 5) will drop the total score to 40 points, and again I won’t have to read any further.

Papers whose total points are still above 60 can then be scrutinized more carefully. But now all the instructor will have to look for are mechanical, formatting, and style errors. Because at this late point in the term no comment needs to be made, this should go fairly quickly. Again, keep an eye on the total points; if the score drops below 60, just stop reading.

If I quit reading when I see a paper has already failed, it not only will cut out a great deal of unnecessary and frustrating work, it also will avoid adding insult to injury by inflicting a negative score. That is not a good thing to do, even when the student richly deserves it.

I’ve set up this rubric in an Excel spreadsheet with with formulae to add up the total and then multiply it by three to show the point score proportionate to the 300-point value of this last paper. The formulae will track the total score automatically as individual scores are entered in the cells. Thus if there’s a stage where I can stop reading, I’ll know it instantly.

If you’re faculty and would like a copy of the Lady Cruella Grading Rubric Spreadsheet, let me know in the comments and I’ll e-mail one to you.

😈

Blackboard: Always Leave ’Em Tearing Their Hair…

Un. Freaking. Believable.

But maybe not. Maybe I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna escape from Blackboard without one final pain in the butt.

One hundred thousand words of student writing was to cross my transom come Tuesday. A few eager beavers turned in their gigantic final papers over the weekend, so on Monday I read the early entrants in the course’s final steeplechase.

Blackboard, the bloatware that passes for the course management software favored by the local community college district, should add up each student’s points and then tell you what percentage of the semester’s total available points these figures represent. In the past, it has done so quietly and efficiently, much speeding the process of posting final grades.

So Monday I enter an A-minus (90 points) for a certain student.

Blackboard awards him a final score of 138.6 percent.

No kidding? This is a B-minus student at best. He’s racked up no extra-credit points, and he has missed 50-point assignments. How could he possibly have accumulated more than the total points available?

Whip out my calculator and discover that he in fact has captured 79 percent of the total available points.

Hm. This would explain why one of our brighter lightbulbs, one who indeed did perform a bunch of extra credit and who turned in his final paper even earlier, managed to rack up a score of 148 percent.

Manually recalculate his grade: 95 percent.

Enter a few theoretical final paper scores in other students’ rows. When we say all our children are above average, we’re not kidding!

Try to figure out what the problem is. I must have made some mistake, but I’ll be damned if I can find it. All the columns’ settings are the same, and as far as I can tell, they’re all correct.

Finally have to concede that the only way to figure their final scores without having to punch every number (that would be hundreds of numbers!) into a calculator is to build an Excel spreadsheet that works and import the data into that. Make it two spreadsheets—one for each of the composition sections.

This was not a difficult job, but it was tedious, made more so by the fact that the array of assignments differed slightly between the two sections, so I had to build two separate spreadsheets. Then I had to send out announcements and e-mails to all students in each section explaining why they couldn’t rely on their Blackboard “My Grades” function, how I would be figuring their grades, how to calculate their own grades. Of course this generated a flurry of e-mails from students in High Obsessive Gear. So I got to kill Monday evening farting around with still MORE unnecessary extra work generated by Blackboard.

This will be the last assignment I ever enter in a Blackboard spreadsheet. Starting with the summer term, my classes are moving over to sites created in WordPress.com. Communication will happen through that site and through G-mail accounts dedicated exclusively to specific courses, so that I don’t have to sift through all the junk mail that comes in from the district and two campuses to find messages from students. Grades will be kept in spreadsheets very like the ones I built Monday night. I may put them up on Google Docs, so I can access them from whatever computer I happen to be using. I’ll give students blank, formatted spreadsheets so they can enter their own grades and view their accumulating points and percentages.

Wouldn’t you know Blackboard would pull this stunt on the way out?