Ancrene Wiseass

A would-be medievalist holds forth on academia, teaching, gender politics, blogging, pop culture, critters, and whatever else comes her way.

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Location: United States

Yes, this really is yet another blog by a disillusioned grad student. I sympathize, but that's just the way it has to be. For hints as to what my bizarre alias means, click here and here and, if needed, here and here. To get a sense of what I'm up to, feel free to check out the sections called "Toward a Wiseass Creed" and "Showings: Some Introductory Wiseassery" in my main blog's left-hand sidebar. Please be aware that spamming, harassing, or otherwise obnoxious comments will be deleted and traced.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Students who rock and other delights

I finally finished all the grading yesterday. Hallelujah!

And though I do get bent out of shape by the type of student Zelda's aptly termed "ugly undergradlings," it has to be said that there are always at least a few truly marvelous students in the bunch.

Like the one whose term paper was so beautifully written that it literally brought tears of joy to my eyes and whose exam essay not only made a clear, cogent, well-supported argument, but actually used that argument to take exception with the wording of the essay prompt. Or the one who wrote an excellent critique of a lecture she'd disagreed with.

Honestly, I'm rarely prouder of students than when they make a compelling case for disagreeing with us.

Kindly Prof has said more kindly things to me, as have a few students. My favorite compliment, though, was from a woman who earned a "C" and admitted that she was disappointed, but said she had liked the class anyway and hoped she might have me as her T.A. again. Which just goes to show that some undergraduates are remarkably wonderful and mature human beings.

I've been at my brother 's and sister-in-law's place and have mostly been grading, sleeping, reading, watching TV, eating, drinking whiskey, and hanging out with Niece Cat and Nephew Cat. We went out for Irish pub food tonight, and I seemed, oddly enough, to confuse the hell out of the waitress by asking for some hot, black tea. I guess that, even in an Irish pub in winter, the South is still all about the iced tea. But she figured it out in the end, and all was well.

It's lovely, but weird, being on Old Home Sod. The houses are so big. And there are, like, trees and stuff everywhere.

Tomorrow, we're off to the family manse first thing in the a.m., and I need to do at least a little prospectus reading on the way. Since we're taking both cats with us and expect them not to enjoy the journey all that much, that could be an interesting experience . . . .