If You Prick Us, Do We Not Blog?

Sitting in H.D.'s seminar this afternoon, when I should have been wildly pondering just what the hell is going on with sexuality and gender in the end of "The Merchant of Venice" (answer: something about vagina rings), I decided to finally blog (or, rather, blog again, if you count the haiku thing...or the shit I tried to do in college). But, now, holy hell...where do I begin?

I'm writing now as I wait for a student to come meet with me, though at this point I'm fairly certain I've been stood up. This semester, following the advice of teaching guru DZ, I've been meeting with all my students individually for about 10 minutes or so. These little meet-and-greets are entirely social in their nature: I quiz my students about their majors, their hobbies, their career paths, their reasons for picking Wisconsin, their (often dubious) cultural preferences, etc. So far, so good, though there have been some hiccups. I've learned that asking the question, "So, what do you do for fun?", is not a good question to ask, mostly because students just shrug and say "Hang out with friends and do whatever," which is code for what they actually want to say, that being "I get black-out drunk on a shitty handle of Mr. Boston's Rum and proceed to make some dubious life choices that I'll lie to my future spouse about when they ask if I ever did anything I regretted back when I was in college." To which I'd still probably just nod and say, "Neat-o."

Most students have been cool in their own way, but there have just been some outstandingly awkward or "oh-fuck-what-do-I-say-now?" moments, too. In true Dubsian fashion, a brief highlight reel:

1.) Student H who, when asked about how he liked Madison, replied that is was "too diverse" and wanted to go back to his tiny town in rural Wisconsin.

2.) Student R who, when I saw his Radiohead t-shirt and asked if he paid for "In Rainbows" (the newest album that could be downloaded for free), gave me a weird look and scornfully replied, "What are you talking about?" [he'd borrowed the shirt].

3.) Student M, who told me that one of her hobbies is "making fun of people a lot," so I should be "prepared to get some shit from [her] this semester."

4.) Student K, who...well, pick a moment. She cackled (and I mean, cackled) at every third sentence, funny or not, and she spent most of the meeting looking either at the wall behind my left ear or the ceiling tile directly above her. Oh, and ask AK, who has had her as a student. Smart, but fucking nuts.

That being said, I think it's gone well. My own college experience was defined by the great attention I got from professors at Delaware, and that kind of personal detail was what made the school feel small and manageable. Especially here at Wisconsin, with its vast student body, I think it's important to go out of my way as an instructor to have that kind of contact with my students: I don't doubt that there are students who graduate having never once spoken to a professor, TA, etc. outside of class. And that bothers me. I think that, especially with higher education going the direction that it is--that is, getting more expensive but less attentive to individual students (because of the expansion of student populations)--this kind of one-on-one contact should be strongly encouraged. Frankly, it's an idea I wish I had last semester. Time-wise, the investment is pretty nominal (57 students x 10 mins. apiece = about 10 hours), but the pay-off, both for the instructor and the student, is substantial. I already feel like I have a better rapport with my students, and many of them actually greet me by name walking out of lecture, instead of putting their heads down and scurrying by (as many did back in the fall).

Alright. I have to go eat some Chipotle before orchestra rehearsal, so let's call it good.