Awkward

Once again I am riddled with doubt as to whether or not I am doing my students a service or disservice with my lectures. I am riddled with self-doubt and insecurity as I stand before them. I love my job. I do. I simply wish there was a manual for this process. I can imagine it.

Step One: Get them to engage with writing on a personal level.
Step Two: Show them examples of excellent prose.
Step Three: Allow them the freedom to mess up.
Step Four: Teach them how to revise to eliminate said "mess ups."

This is what I'm trying to do but I can't believe the level of disconnect I feel from them. I have this one woman in my morning class. She's nice, or appears to be, but as the class rolls on I can see her staring at the chalkboard on the side wall of the class. Not even out the window. The chalkboard is more interesting than the information I am trying to give her.

I didn't have alt-woman in my class this morning. She's a creative writing major and I can already tell that she is disenfranchised from the material. She believes herself to be above it, beyond the scope of what I am teaching. I've read her writing...she's not. I'm not for Christ's sake. All of my lessons have reverberations in my own writing. I'm learning right alongside these guys.

I can't tell if it is simply the new class blahs or if there is something more worrisome happening here, but I'm determined to reach them. I will come back day after day to make sure that they don't give up on this process and that each of them leaves my class a better writer.