In his famous "Diario Minimo" Umberto Eco relates how professionals like dentists are credible when they say they don't have time to attend to us, but when teachers say it, they are not believed. "Surely, you have time. After all, you only teach 3-4 classes a week." Eco does the math for the critics of the teacher as he includes all his activities besides teaching, down to the 3 packs of cigarettes he smokes per day. His conclusion is the typical, slightly absurd one: he needs to quit smoking because it accounts for more than 182 hours a year.
Let me be equally absurd by saying that if Eco had quit smoking, he would have won the Nobel Prize for Literature (instead of Bob Dylan) and he would have had 182 more hours to devote to teaching, his periodical, travel, book reviews, and of course diario minimo.Now that we have set the Nobels straight on who should have won the prize, and given the fact that they do not award the prize posthumously, let's get back to the real issue of the teacher and how little time he has on his or her hands.
We teach 5 to 6 courses per semester (yes, we earn overtime pay for the 6th class but it is the part time instructor hourly rate, not our hourly salary rate), with 3 hours of office time, plus 2 of contact time per week, we are already at 30 hours a week. This does not include our committee time, which may be a couple hours a week, with prep time. So far we have not included correcting papers, including essays, quizzes, and Canvas. The latter is the course management system, which requires at least 5-6 hours a week to use. This includes adding assignments, calendars for each class, announcements, grades for students. Next comes answering student, faculty, staff, and admin emails. This is at least 2 hours a week. Nor does all this include travel time which could be 2 hours a day.
This does not include my union duties, which are from between 2-7 hours a week. Meetings are twice a month and go on for 2 hours each minimum. Then comes adding to the curricula: I am creating 2 new courses (Sci Fi and Mystery Fiction); nor does it include adding to the Journalism curriculum and submitting that to my department and then the committee. I am also developing curriculum for Basic English with Computers. This will require some research, plus gathering information from colleagues.
Now comes my own publications. I am working on finishing a paper of Summer Bridge programs. I need a block of time each week--ideally--to focus on and develop an article.
This still does not include department and division meetings; nor socializing with my beloved department.
Can I stop at 40 hours a week, please? Can I really take Christmas and summer off? Not a chance.
Sunday, September 3, 2017
The Saga of Moderately Tall People...
Tall people get the sympathy as we watch them try to enter the door. Short people get all the benes by having everything well within reach.... While moderately tall people get neither sympathy or accommodations.
Moderately tall people are between 6 foot and 6 '2" 3/4. Six foot three is considered tall. If someone who is 6'3 or 4" even if they are 300 pounds, they are forgiven for their girth. Take William Howard Taft, for example. Yes, big, "barrel chested" but "He was tall first." Moderately tall people don't fit into the regular chair or desk or computer station; nor do they fit into a designer slim fit. Then they are called overweight or out of shape for not fitting into the typical desk or toilet. These items are set up for people well under 6' and have the specs drawn up by the State of CA as official for the greatest good for the greatest number.
On typical coach flight, my body is in a permanent state of rigor mortis. When I stand to stretch, the steward or stewardess tells me to go sit down. They don't care if I became stiff and die--just die in your seat so we can get our cart of garbage down the aisle.
The typical sedan is no relief--especially for the person sitting behind my seat. They better be a little person. Otherwise, if I have to move my driver seat toward the front, I won't be able to drive safely.
The hotel room standard queen bed is another horrible inconvenience. We moderately tall have to sleep not just in the middle of the bed but diagonally. My body becomes the perfect geometry assignment, separating a rectangle into two perfect right triangles. I may have earned an A in geometry but I earn an F with my spouse for taking up "the whole bed."
Thus, in any typical situation at work in a desk, chair, plane, car, hotel, etc. we moderately tall people get the abuse: "If you weren't so overweight or out of shape... or if you were taller... or did you drink your mother's milk--why are you sort of tall but hunched over... oh yes, your Dad was hunched but not tall nor overweight..." they say, "Look in the mirror. You are getting fat."
I look in the mirror but it is too short: all I see is my neck. Even the mirror was placed on the wall for shorter people. The criticisms are continual, the solutions few, and the sympathy nonexistent.
Moderately tall people are between 6 foot and 6 '2" 3/4. Six foot three is considered tall. If someone who is 6'3 or 4" even if they are 300 pounds, they are forgiven for their girth. Take William Howard Taft, for example. Yes, big, "barrel chested" but "He was tall first." Moderately tall people don't fit into the regular chair or desk or computer station; nor do they fit into a designer slim fit. Then they are called overweight or out of shape for not fitting into the typical desk or toilet. These items are set up for people well under 6' and have the specs drawn up by the State of CA as official for the greatest good for the greatest number.
On typical coach flight, my body is in a permanent state of rigor mortis. When I stand to stretch, the steward or stewardess tells me to go sit down. They don't care if I became stiff and die--just die in your seat so we can get our cart of garbage down the aisle.
The typical sedan is no relief--especially for the person sitting behind my seat. They better be a little person. Otherwise, if I have to move my driver seat toward the front, I won't be able to drive safely.
The hotel room standard queen bed is another horrible inconvenience. We moderately tall have to sleep not just in the middle of the bed but diagonally. My body becomes the perfect geometry assignment, separating a rectangle into two perfect right triangles. I may have earned an A in geometry but I earn an F with my spouse for taking up "the whole bed."
Thus, in any typical situation at work in a desk, chair, plane, car, hotel, etc. we moderately tall people get the abuse: "If you weren't so overweight or out of shape... or if you were taller... or did you drink your mother's milk--why are you sort of tall but hunched over... oh yes, your Dad was hunched but not tall nor overweight..." they say, "Look in the mirror. You are getting fat."
I look in the mirror but it is too short: all I see is my neck. Even the mirror was placed on the wall for shorter people. The criticisms are continual, the solutions few, and the sympathy nonexistent.
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