This storm was predicted to be the storm of the winter.
The roads were awful this morning, but school wasn’t closed.
Usually I ride in with the boys, but we were all betting the school would close, if not soon than half-way through the day. So that wasn’t going to work. The boys called home when they got to work and said the roads were really bad and has the school closed yet, and what is wrong with them anyway?
This was not an encouraging report, and besides, several people had told me that the teacher had said if the roads were bad, she was going to cancel lecture even if the school didn’t close.
So I stayed home.
She had lecture; half the class showed up and half didn’t.
Now half of us are behind the other half. (And I’m in the wrong half!)
Then they closed the school at 1:30.
Stuff like this makes me want to beat my head against the wall and say “why? why? why? why?” Everyone has to commute to that school; the roads were expectedly, undeniably bad. If you know at least half of your students can’t or won’t make it in, why keep the school open?
While I’m indulging in complaining. . .while I’m glad that I do not have any teachers that make me emotionally or psychologically upset this semester, I still managed to get a doozy. She does not seem to be competent for the post; we ask questions and she says she doesn’t know. We are confused, and she says she is, too. She tells us to cross things off our learning packet because she doesn’t understand them. She hasn’t read our books and doesn’t know what’s in them. The only thing she can do is read slides aloud, but, no offense, I learned how to read a long, long, long, looooong time ago. Even if I am only 24.
I mean, yes. It is a hobby of mine to try to stump the teacher. They all say “I don’t know” at some point or another. But, for one thing, these questions I’m stumping her with are not obscure questions; they’re very basic. For another, I’m not the only one doing it. And it’s chronic on her part. Finally, she some how manages to come into every class seemingly more abundantly under-prepared than her students. And I know we’re a pretty brilliant, driven bunch of students, but still. You’re out-preforming your students in under-preforming? And I’m paying you? Not funny.
She did not make any more friends when she administered her first test, which was poorly written. And then poorly graded. I got points off because I listed “eye protection” as a protective barrier against bacteria. (It was fill-in-the-blank.)
“But it is a protective barrier, right?”
“Well, yes, but not what I was looking for. I was only looking for gown, gloves or mask. That wasn’t in my notes.”
“So it doesn’t matter if it’s true, as long as it’s in your notes?”
“Well, it does have to be true, but it does have to be my notes.”
Whatever. I was disgusted, but since reasonable conversation didn’t resolve the issue, I didn’t see any reason to create animosity at the beginning of a semester over 2 points. (Classmates felt otherwise; they looked up, found it in her notes, and demanded I go and get my 2 points. Confronted with her own notes, she did cede the points, but that’s not the point. The point is, if you are fighting with the part of your class that is well-behaved, responsible, on-time, attentive and producing a high level of work, you’re in trouble: that’s usually the last segment to revolt.)
We’ve been told we should go respectfully and diplomatically to talk to the dean. The problem is trying to discuss the problem without sounding like we’re whining. How does one go about saying “Um, I’m wasting my tuition on this teacher.” without sounding like a prima dona?
