Inevitable

Each semester I have one class that is my "unfavorite." This time, the dislike I feel is far greater than usual. For a really stupid reason, I agreed to teach a section of freshman composition at 7 a.m. My dean passed out spring term schedules at a department meeting I neglected to attend, and when I found mine in my mailbox the next day, I felt that I couldn't complain as I had intentionally missed the meeting. I didn't want to compound the bad karma, so I decided to suck it up and teach at that early hour.

The class wasn't a punishment. I happily teach at 8 a.m., but this semester the college abolished that start time, which means classes now begin either at 7 or 8:30. Connie moved what would have been my 8 a.m. class to 7 a.m., probably because I have never complained about the 7 a.m. class I always teach during one of the summer's short semesters. Getting up at 4:30 is fine for five short weeks, 20 class meetings total. But during a 15-week semester, it's hell. I have to reset the alarm every evening because my Monday/Wednesday schedule doesn't require leaving the house as early. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can't remember if the next morning is a Tuesday or Thursday, which means I must get out of bed to confirm the day and correct alarm time. I leave the house in the pitch dark, hoping I don't miss a stair and crack my head open on the front sidewalk, and then get to play "Near Miss" with the drunks who are still on the road.

But I am a professional, so my attitude is the same for the 7 o'clock group as it is for my later classes. I don't bitch about the time, just get down to business. Although I am awake and fully functioning, many of the students are not. Two distinct personalities comprise the class: the mature, responsible folks who registered for a 7 a.m. class because that time fits their schedule, and then everyone else who was "forced" to take it because no other section remained open. In this last group, I have the lifelong procrastinators, the slackers, the oversleepers. I passed back a quiz today: 9 students earned As; two not-so-bright hardworkers got Cs; the other half of the class made Ds and Fs. The line of demarcation is clear.

Now I am not about to start complaining that malcontents are walking in late. I don't allow students to disrupt the rest of us with their tardiness, so they are in class on time but resentful. And I'm not going to whine that they are sleeping either. They get one polite warning after the class they slept through [I'm not a fan of public humiliation]; then I just mark them absent and eventually withdraw them for "nonattendance." I guess my dislike for this group is the high number of students with crappy attitudes. Every class has a handful of poor performers. But I am a really good teacher, usually maintain everyone's attention with interesting and meaningful material [no small-group bullshit or in-class busy work], and the handful of slackers who do register for a class with me either get peer pressured into becoming at least decent students or withdraw.

Fifty percent of this 7 a.m. class, however, doesn't want to learn. I am trying to ignore their presence, their palpable dislike for everything we do, their sad attempts to look awake while they zone out, for the other half of the room includes people who have their notebooks open before I arrive and are attempting to become better writers. But I am finding it hard to keep my focus on the good students. I am used to enthusiastic people concerned about the course content [or at least their good grades], so half a class of malcontents who shrug indifferently at yet another D or F is really getting on my nerves. There is an unspoken tension in the room between those who are "too cool for school," who look on disdainfully at anyone who bothers to take notes, for example, and everyone else.

I'm really at a loss as to what I should do. I imagine that as the weather warms, they will drop like flies, preferring a trip to the beach or an extra hour in bed to their complete boredom in my class. I am used to finishing with most of the students who start the semester, but this group of losers can't withdraw soon enough, no matter what lousy retention numbers I have at the end of April.

Today officially marks the halfway point, the end of week 7 in 14 weeks of instruction. I have 14 more energy-sucking mornings before I never have to see this particular sea of faces again. When I spot these students as individuals in the hallway, I will regret that the good ones didn't have the typical Professor Lightbulb experience that is my reputation. I will ignore the glares from the slackers who have had to re-register for the same course because they failed their first attempt with me.

Damn, I wish I hadn't missed that department meeting so that I could have wailed to Connie that there was just no way I could teach at 7 a.m. during a long semester!