Yikes

As I’m sure YOU all know by now – even if my students don’t – my homework deadline for the hybrid class is 6 p.m. on Sunday.  At about 7 p.m. (allowing time for servers that only send out email in batches), I gather up the assignments that were sent to me, mark the grades in my log, then sign on to the college’s website to take “attendance” for the online class – the homework, or “deliverable,” as the school calls it, is what I’m supposed to use to determine whether a student has ‘attended’ the online class or not.

Last week, one of my lovelies – we’ll call him Tad – sent me his homework to me on Sunday at ten past nine.  Keep in mind that Tad has NEVER sent in an assignment on time – ever.  I sent him back this note:

Tad, you will not receive credit for this, and you’ve already been marked as absent for the deliverable.

The message must have had SOME effect, though, because he sent his homework in on time this week, albeit with this little love note attached:

that is pretty lame.

To which I replied that I was sorry that he felt that way, but the policy has been the policy since the first day of class.

Now, is it just me, or would ANY of you EVER have thought to speak to a teacher that way – in email or in person?!  I’m trying very hard to remember the source and to not take it personally, but I’m consistently stunned by the sheer lack of respect these students seem to have for their teachers.  It’s almost enough to put me off of this place.

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6 Comments

Filed under General Griping, Learning, Teaching

6 responses to “Yikes

  1. You’re not there for that kid, you’re there for the Cassies and those like her. Freaking phenomonal, isn’t it? I wouldn’t think to say that to any adult who gave me a directive that I had clearly not followed. If it hadn’t been an e-mail I’d have been tempted to be all up in his face. Of course I’d use sarcasm and tell him that’s the best way to address a supervisor or a boss and then ask him to keep you posted on his progress in his first job.

    Ever thought of taking a poll in your class about why the kids are at this particular school?

  2. nhfalcon

    The lack of respect hasn’t quite reached that level yet at my high school, at least not to me or my cooperating teacher. What I’ve noticed is that a lot of kids have taken to calling their teachers by just their last names. No “Mister” or “Missus” – just the last name. I don’t think it stems so much from overt lack of respect as it does a presumption of familiarity, but I know I never would’ve called my teachers just by name when I was in school.

  3. He’s safe behind a computer screen, first and foremost. And even if he felt compelled to comment, he still gets a hit in the gradebook. I think I’d be advising him to drop the class and try again next time if he really wants/needs the credit.

    Btw, how are you?

  4. Being insolent to one’s teachers should be immortalised in the UN charter of human rights. We mostly called them ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’, but only inasmuch as it was a sarcastic play on the formality of the English school system. Most teachers had their own nickname with us. There was Skippy, the maths substitute teacher who moonlighted as a taxi-driver, and Herr Mannel, the Germanic deputy with a facial scar worthy of the villain from either a Bond film or an Agatha Christie play.
    To be completely honest, we had a good enough rapport with our teachers to be able to have fun in class while not compromising the learning environment, mostly.

  5. I get emails like that all the time. At least, I THINK that’s what they’re saying. Most of the time, the spelling and grammar are so bad, I can’t really tell. And I teach at the college level.

  6. Yes, I get it too, especially in the comments section of the class blog. Typical exchange:
    (Post reminds students of due date for assignment X for over a week. No comments until night before due date, when I get this:)
    How do I do X? I know you told us, but I wasn’t paying attention.

    I will admit, I usually ignore these. Then when the kid asks me why I didn’t answer, I smile sweetly and say, “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention.”

    It’s a good thing there’s not a sharp, stout stick nearby.

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