Me, A Heart Breaker???

While walking across campus today I was stopped by a young man who, after inquiring about my health and the health of my family, my summer and the weather, began to explain that "My heart is breaking because of you." While slightly flattered but more disturbed by the comment, I needed an explanation. You see, I am straight, married and hopelessly in love with my partner.

After discussing the concern in my office with the door open (a must whenever a conversation with a student might involve matters of the hear), it became clear that his heartbreak had nothing to do with my khaki pants, Cub Scouts conditioned sense of humour (all my jokes, even now, come from old issues of Boy's Life - the official publication of the Scouts), or flatlander accent. It was all about the grade the young man had just recieved in his sophomore English class.

Yes, I'm a hard grader. At Eureka College I frequently heard from students that I expected too much from them or that I required too much work from them. My papers were written on obscure topics or bizarre comparisons ("Compare one of the central characters in Death of a Salesman to your favorite Neal Patrick Harris mini-series character). I would often spend more time grading a paper than most students spent writing it. I would take some degree of pleasure in writing essay questions that even I wasn't sure how to answer. But since moving to Africa, my standards have fallen significantly. Spelling is overrated. Grammer is just an artificial construct of rules. Sentence and paragraph structures should be fluid and fit into a jellyfish shaped outline. So it is a surprise when students complain to me about grades.

But here is does make a difference...sort of. If a student is removed from the university or simply never attends, he or she immediately begins working for the government. This could mean a job with the post office or telephone company but it also could mean teaching highschool in a village ten hours from home. Or it might get you a spot on the front lines digging trenches in 100 degree heat. It certainly would mean something more difficult than sitting in a classroom listening to some American or Indian talk about the beauty of language.

But it is only a delay. When a student does graduate, his or her fate is the same. In this case they may be digging trenches with a diploma in hand. A 3.75 doesn't keep the sun off your back any more than a 2.0 or a highschool certificate. After 18 months or two years or six years a person is released and typically placed or directed to a job a bit more suited to his or her degree. Usually.

And my grades are justified. Walking into the final all my students should be aware of what grade they will likely recieve. My syllabus is clear, my scale is defined, my requirements are logically explained. Objective and "fair" (whatever that means).

So I guess I really shouldn't feel guilty about being such a heart breaker.