This is the time of year when I cast out my imaginary net and consider new careers. The number of plagiarized end term papers handed in astounded and depressed me. We had talked about plagiarism all semester--and to drive home the point--students uploaded their work through a software program that detects it.
And yet, there it was: phrases lifted from wikipedia, answers.com (I never understand how that one slips in) and other unlikelies: like enotes, freeessays, and etceteras.
As always at the end of semester, my last crop of students teach me new rules I have to add for the next class. For one, end of semester papers are from this moment obsolete. In that way, students will have to face me and the class again after all work is handed in. Finals--which I have never quite understood for a composition class--are herein, the new standard.
New standard two: a recommendation for tutoring in Writing Skills is now a requirement to pass. My new students--if you read this, please know this is for your own good, and if it means taking time away from work or family, thank the class that came before you. (But, I repeat, it really is for your own good.)
These negative aspects cast a pall over what was really a good semester. More A's were earned than ever before. And my classes were engaged and lively.
My career: what to do? Many of my friends are fully or semi-retired. I can't imagine it. Perhaps because my work life has always reflected my drive for creative and, at times, off-the-beaten path, work. I've taught knitting and wrote patterns in yarn stores; taught crafts in a nursing home; made doll clothes and accessories for kids; hand knit sweaters for magazines; freelanced as a writer, proofreader, copywriter; and supported myself with a parade of clerical jobs while pursuing these fun (but abysmally low paying) jobs.
I love teaching. I especially like the one-to-one relationships that develop when a struggling student enlists my aid--or I reach them--and they end the semster by shining. Or already doing well students work harder than they need to, to get an A. Usually, the rewards are the small things; a student calls out across the hallway, "Hey Professor!"
Summer school starts in a few weeks. And so it begins, again.
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