Grasping at Straws

So I've hopped on board with Drs. Jordan, Miller, and Price, and I've begun a blog to complement my 101 course this fall. This is a fairly significant step for me, partly because it has sucked me into the blogosphere (a place I swore I'd never inhabit), but mostly because it means that I'm restructuring the way I'm going to approach the course this term. This was kind of an impulsive decision on my part -- it didn't become a reality until lunch yesterday, where the four of us discussed strategies, assignments, and goals for our sections. It was a delightfully inspiring conversation.

But then late last night it hit me. That little voice. The nagging one. You know, the one that sounds like your great-aunt Ethel (from Chicago) when her gout has been especially inflamed. Nagging Voice: You realize what this means? Me: What? NV: It means you don't have the faintest idea what to expect this semester. It means that you'll be flying by the seat of your pants at times; that you'll probably fail more than you succeed; that you're about to set foot in completely unknown territory. I didn't like the sound of that. Me: Oh. Wow. I hadn't really thought that one through. NV: Typical. Aren't you glad I'm around to remind you of what you don't think about?

I was miserable for the rest of the evening. In my mind's eye, I saw myself approaching 101 this semester like Indiana Jones in that bit during the first five minutes of Raiders of the Lost Ark -- the part where, having tossed away his trusty bullwhip (shame on you, Alfred Molina!), Indy leaps across the bottomless chasm and, clinging for dear life, he safely grasps a plant root....which begins to play out like kite string as he, hand over hand, tries to avoid falling into the abyss. Yep. That about sums it up. You've thrown away the only security you had -- namely, nine years of teaching 101 the same way -- and you're facing a leap in the dark. What were you thinking?

But then it struck me that this is precisely what some of my students will be feeling. They're -- you're, if you're reading this as a part of 101 -- probably approaching this semester with a similar mix of exhilaration and fear. It's got to be tough to toss away the comfort zone of home, of going to school the same way for twelve years, and to take that leap. That realization made me pause again: You just experienced what it's like for a first semester freshman.

And so, out of that internal discussion with the voice of your great-aunt Ethel, I've found a point of contact that I share with many of my students. It's easy for those of us who teach to take advantage of our experience -- to teach out of the security of having taught -- and to hide behind the walls of routine. This ultimately exploits the classroom for our own comfort, though, and is comparable to the 101 student who writes the same way that her high school English teacher taught her to write: unwilling to grow, to look at things from a new perspective, or to face challenges that she might not have considered before.

It is my hope that this semester will be as engaging for you students as it promises to be for me. If we can admit that we're all approaching this class "blindly," then I think we can all become better writers, better thinkers, and better students. And, who knows? By December we may be taking those leaps across those bottomless pits, landing squarely on our feet, and smirking in the face of danger.

But then there's that gigantic ball....