Last night I said, "Okay, kids, can you set the table with six placemats like this one and six matching napkins?"
Stella answered, "Who's coming over?"
And we were having a dinner guest, it's true, but I felt a little bit harrumphy that her immediate assumption is matching napkins = company coming.
Today was a long day. I have taken over a 7am Adoration hour on Wednesday for the summer, and shortly afterward was the first session of a course redesign workshop I'm doing. The thing about teaching classes a bunch of times is that you figure out what mostly works, and then inertia becomes a powerful force. Like, it would be better if you used a different textbook, but investigating textbook options is a hassle and the current textbook is okay. It would be better if you reorganized the third unit, but prepping new lectures is a ton of work -- a TON of work -- and the existing lectures aren't so bad.
In the summer there's space to do a little dreaming. What's my GRAND VISION for this course? When students think back on this course in five years' time, what do I want them to remember about it? What might the steps between the first day of class and the achievement of the GRAND VISION look like? There's a huge emphasis right now in higher ed on measurable outcomes: how will you KNOW that your students have achieved what the syllabus said they should be able to achieve? But the overlap between measurable and meaningful is imperfect, and the latter should be a higher priority. Today I had the freedom to think to myself "What do I want my students to understand about the social model of disability?" without having to say in the very next breath "Here is the way I will measure their knowledge of the social model of disability."
As soon as the workshop session was over, I walked down to the repair shop where our limping van was getting its oil changed, and headed out to pick up Joe, who took his last final today. The trip there took longer than planned because of a road closure, and the departure from campus took longer than planned because he has a surprising amount of stuff, but it was an uneventful trip despite its length. Uneventful drives are my favorite kind, especially when the lateness of the hour means a glorious crimson sunset, and lightning playing in the sky -- close enough to enjoy, too far away to slow me down. And now Joe is here, hurray! Four of five Gladly kids are home to stay for a while.
Recent Comments