Unsent Letters

Free at last! Free at last!! Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!


Portfolios were graded last night. My last essay was handed in on Friday. Grades were entered 10 minutes ago. I'm *done*. (Apart from giving back portfolios in my office for two hours today. Then I'm done-done.)

Along with portfolios, I always provide a grade summary sheet, breaking down the components of the final grade. I think I gave out too many A's this semester, but I double checked and the scores still come out the same. I don't give a flip for the proper "bell curve" of grades or the average we're supposed to have given to the class (which is a B-, by the way--mine always comes out slightly above that). I think second semester freshmen work harder than first semester frosh, simply because they dicked around for one semester and are probably on academic probation (here at the state school, anyway), or they had a nasty scare with their grades last semester. I always separate portfolios before I grade them into what I assume will be the A's, B's C's and fails (a D in this class means you have to take it over). I was surprised at the number of B's and C's that turned out to be A's. They worked hard.

Some, however, did not.

And that's really frustrating to me, because I'm not yet jaded enough to sit there and watch them fail. I put notes on their essays, I hold last minute conferences, I do everything I can, and yet, there are some who will actively choose to fail. I failed a couple more people, but there were four distinct fuckups to whom I really wish I could've sent a letter along with their grade summary. It's one of those things you compose in your head but would or could never say outloud. It would be short and sweet:

J-- Well, here we are, at Failuresville. I can't say I didn't expect it. When you stomped in with your UGG boots and rolled your eyes at everything in the first half of the semester, it was no surprise you strategically started missing in the second half. You crapped out on your partner project, missed several important peer reviews & conferences, and I'm pretty sure you plagiarized your second paper--I just can't prove it. Fortunately, now I won't have to. You know, I even hung around the main office past the deadline for turning in your portfolio before I put the sign on the door that, to paraphrase, says, "You're screwed." This was after you emailed me and I told you 4:00 was the absolute deadline. No portfolio, no pass.

M-- Wow, you're just one big waste of space, aren't you? I mean, that's how you introduced yourself to the whole class on the first day. Something like "I try to do as little physical activity as possible," if I recall correctly. You should've warned me that extended also to the mental. It's not that you can't do it--you just don't give a shit. Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you added a sentence and a half and called it a "revision"? Did you really think that genius sentence was going to change all the major things wrong with your papers? I can only pray you don't take my section next fall--I think it's too late for you to change your schedule anyway; the sections are full.

L-- You were a surprising failure, but I should've seen it coming. I mean, after all, in your first essay--the one where you talk about your "literacy moment" and you chose to write about football--you said you were drawn to become a precoaching major because it looked like an easier job and you got excited watching this one particular game. You didn't then go on to play highschool football, or help out the coaches, or even carry the water. You probably just sat on the couch drinking a beer. I imagine your English experience was much the same. I'm sure you looked at the book or the syllabus. You may have even felt some stirring emotion toward paper and pencil. But you didn't follow through. That was painfully obvious. I wanted to charge you just for reading your portfolio.

S-- I am so glad you're gone. I really am. That sickly sweet little voice telling me yet one more excuse for screwing something up was about to turn me rancid. You cried wolf so many times, I barely believed you when a real emergency hit. But what pissed me off the most is when you went over my head at midterm to my "boss" and complained about me holding you accountable for absences *you* took. You weren't even smart enough to try and make the dubious claim that you didn't miss class! You just wanted to be held to a different standard. I'm sorry your bar job keeps you up til 3 a.m. so that you sleep through my class. After I heard that story too many times, I sent you a pretty little email questioning whether you worked for an education or whether you were going through the motions. Here's a clue: quit your stupid job and find another one. Your fellow students as well as your Dear Teacher also work another job, and yet they manage to get things done. Quit whining. I suggested you drop the course. You told me you couldn't, because you were on academic probation. That cleared up a lot of things immediately. The best thing that could happen to you is for the university to force you to take a year off and quit wasting your parents money. Maybe you'd grow some maturity then.


Boy that felt good!

-- Virgil