On Thursdays, I am lucky enough to have the house and the day to myself. Usually I am busy preparing for my evening literature class out at UNO's Jeff Center, and today I was busy re-reading Huck Finn. It's been hard for me to feel very committed to my lit-students this semester because they are habitual Cliff's Notes readers. Also, they are far too busy to be in school. I got an email this week from a student about how she was aware that she'd bombed their first paper, and she was sorry and all for that, but the was she just didn't care about the assignment.
She explained that she was working 40 hours a week and then taking 18 hours at UNO. This is an ABSURD overload of work and school, and I can see why anyone would have a difficult time focusing on ANYTHING given that load, but really, I can't quite imagine why she would think it would be a good idea to tell me that she didn't care about my assignment. Sadly, this happens a lot. It's like the pandering and BS-ing I hated so much while teaching priveleged students at Tulane has been replaced by bald-faced confessions that what I have to teach them, well, just doesn't "matter."
As if an English teacher needs to be reminded that her students feel this way.
So off I go to teach this class.