Grades were due this
morning at my institution and that may be a contributing factor in my end-of-semester
blues. I hate assigning grades to papers and to students, but unfortunately it
is a necessary evil. I would rather focus on helping my students learn and grow
as writers, but too many other forces (including my students) demand that I
assign a grade. Perhaps if we could find a way to measure and quantify that
learning and growth I would feel better about the grades that I assign, however
as scholars of writing studies know, that learning and growth is not confined
to the 16 weeks they were assigned to my class and does not show up in easily quantifiable ways.
I can use my own hard-won
expertise to study a variety of data sources and evaluate the successes and
failures of the semester which can help me (if not my students) move past those
grades. I hope this process will help move me out of my current funk which I
describe as postpartum depression or the end-of-semester blues, but I just can’t
summon the energy to do so. I should also be cleaning my house and wrapping
presents, but I don’t see either of those tasks getting done today.
The U.S. National Library
of Medicine defines postpartum depression as the depression that occurs in
women after giving birth. While it may be caused by changes in hormonal levels,
it can also be caused by nonhormonal factors such as lack of sleep and worries
about her ability as a mother. I can certainly sympathize with both of those
factors at this point in the academic calendar and so feel justified in using
the term to describe my current state. I am lacking sleep and worried about my
ability as a teacher.
I’ve also read that
postpartum depression is also caused by a period of grief and mourning. While
the birth of a child is certainly cause for celebration, it is also the death
of the dreams and possibilities that the expectant mother held. It is also the
loss of a closeness that can never be recaptured. In time, those losses will
fade in importance as new dreams and possibilities center around the child and
a new relationship is forged. I think teachers experience similar losses
whenever a class ends. Certainly this is the point when we must accept that all
the dreams and possibilities that existed at the beginning of the semester have
now either been fulfilled (or dare we hope exceeded) or fizzled into something
we neither expected nor wanted. Fortunately, we can start anew in the next
semester, but that doesn’t seem like much of a consolation prize when we are
tired from the end-of-semester grading onslaught and worn out from dealing with
the angst of our students. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be better equipped to look back
objectively at the Fall 2011 Semester and begin looking ahead to Spring 2012.
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