I taught my first class of the spring semester on Tuesday night.  It's my fourth semester teaching composition at a local community college, and the first semester I have gone into the first class really feeling confident about what I'm doing.  Not surprisingly, I was happier about doing it than I have ever been before.

I had 18 students on the roster and was excited about the prospect of a not-full class, but then of course two extras showed up.  However, there were about four no-shows, so my hope that I might end up with around 15 when it's all said and done may still be realized.  Twenty students at five essays (each with one revision), two tests and five in-class assignments each on top of my day job can be a wee bit tiring.

After I handed out the syllabus and geeky "ten tips for the successful college student" hand-outs, explained the grading rubric and tried to scare the shit out of them with my plagiarism speech, we played one of those "getting to know you" games.  I handed out one question to each of them, and they had to go around the room telling the class their name, their year in school (tricky with community college - can you be a fifth-year sophomore?), why they are in the class, a personal fact, and answer the question.  Every single one of them said they are in the class either a) because they have to be (community college as prison torture), b) because they had already used up all their electives and had to start taking core classes (if you ask me, same as "a") or c) one person said "because I want to be." When I pressed him on that, he did admit that he wanted to be different and everyone else had already said "a" or "b."  This is not as disappointing to me as you might think, because hell, it's Comp I, not Creative Writing or Advanced Bullshit For The Future Millionaire.  Who wants to take Comp I?  NO ONE. 

I do try to position the class as "win friends and influence people" as well as "don't look like a friggin' idiot when you type an e-mail" as opposed to "the glory of good grammar."  Sometimes they get the message, sometimes they don't.  I suppose those who are in college to go on to a career in police work or nursing may not, in fact, write a lot of memos in their professional lives.  I do so feel that the world is kinder to those who can string together a proper sentence.  Unless you're George Bush.  But I digress.

Two personal facts I enjoyed:  one guy said he was back in school after four years of "kickin' it."  I asked him if "kickin' it" had paid well, and he laughed and said no, that's why he was there.  The second guy said his hobbies included cage-fighting, which then launched a long class discussion of what the hell that was and why anyone in their right mind would want to do it. Apparently there is actually a cage involved. I'm not sure how much more I want to know about that, but he may very well turn in an essay on it, so I guess I should prepare myself.

After all that, I made them write for forty minutes about what they wanted to accomplish in the next ten years and why.  I decided to instill this weeder exercise this year because I do want them to understand what is involved with a writing class:  writing.  A lot of writing.  About half of them looked pained and spent a lot of time staring at blank paper, the clock, blank paper, their pencil, blank paper, then finally deteriorated into playing with their cell phones.  The other half, to my amazement, wrote for a solid forty minutes.  I did notice they tended to be the nontrads, the older students, those who had probably had a lot of time to think about what they did or didn't accomplish in the previous ten years of their lives.  One in particular thanked me afterward for the exercise.

It's a proven fact that if you write down your dreams, you're much more likely to accomplish them.  Have you written down yours?