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fandomhigh2009-04-23 02:35 pm
clevermsbennet.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2009-04-23 02:35 pm
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Literature, Class 15: Period 3, Thursday, April 23
Miss Bennet smiled at her class, wondering how it was that she had finished two semesters of teaching here. "Welcome," she said. "We've a few odds and ends to collect, for our last class together. Shall we start at the beginning?"
"First, I should like for you to return the papers that I asked each of you to write. Do please note that I will not be grading them so much as I will be reading them, marking them with my own thoughts, and returning them. That does not free you from the obligation of turning them in, however." There was a playful smile to accompany that. "I asked you to write the papers so that you might learn the process of doing so. Library research. Organizing your thoughts into a coherent thesis. These are not strictly literature, but they are related to the subject at hand. More importantly, I would imagine you will need those skills later in life. For those of you already familiar with that process, it would be a review, but sharpening those skills can hardly be considered a waste, I should hope."
"While we were in the library," she continued, "I asked each of you to check out one book, and to read at least some small part of it for today. There is no penalty if you found yourself short of time and unable to do so this past week, but I do hope that each of you found time to start your intended work. I should like each of you to share what it is that you picked, and why, and whether you enjoyed it or not. Please be honest; if you began the work and discovered that it was hideous, please do feel that you are encouraged to say so. Not all books meet all tastes."
She glanced around the room again, a gentle smile for each of them. "When that has finished," she said, "I will ask you to turn over the two pieces of paper which are lying on your desks. They constitute your final, such as it is. I gave you notice last week that we would not be having a conventional final exam. We are not. Literature is subjective. If you know more about literature than when you began this class, then I am satisfied. If you do not, that may easily speak to my failings as a teacher, and not your own. Further complicating the matter: each of you had different backgrounds in literature before you came here. Any quantitative test might only record what it is that some of you already knew. That seems hardly fair."
"Therefore. Your final consists of a few questions about your experiences in this class. If you can tell me one thing which you have learned in this class, then you have passed." Her eyes were dancing as she continued. "I will, for that matter, accept 'literature is boring, and I hope to never speak of it again' as an answer, though I hope none of you feel that way."
"Your papers will be available during my office hours on Tuesday, should you wish for them to be returned. If you have other concerns, please do not hesitate to speak with me, either after class finishes today or then. For now, let us begin."
"First, I should like for you to return the papers that I asked each of you to write. Do please note that I will not be grading them so much as I will be reading them, marking them with my own thoughts, and returning them. That does not free you from the obligation of turning them in, however." There was a playful smile to accompany that. "I asked you to write the papers so that you might learn the process of doing so. Library research. Organizing your thoughts into a coherent thesis. These are not strictly literature, but they are related to the subject at hand. More importantly, I would imagine you will need those skills later in life. For those of you already familiar with that process, it would be a review, but sharpening those skills can hardly be considered a waste, I should hope."
"While we were in the library," she continued, "I asked each of you to check out one book, and to read at least some small part of it for today. There is no penalty if you found yourself short of time and unable to do so this past week, but I do hope that each of you found time to start your intended work. I should like each of you to share what it is that you picked, and why, and whether you enjoyed it or not. Please be honest; if you began the work and discovered that it was hideous, please do feel that you are encouraged to say so. Not all books meet all tastes."
She glanced around the room again, a gentle smile for each of them. "When that has finished," she said, "I will ask you to turn over the two pieces of paper which are lying on your desks. They constitute your final, such as it is. I gave you notice last week that we would not be having a conventional final exam. We are not. Literature is subjective. If you know more about literature than when you began this class, then I am satisfied. If you do not, that may easily speak to my failings as a teacher, and not your own. Further complicating the matter: each of you had different backgrounds in literature before you came here. Any quantitative test might only record what it is that some of you already knew. That seems hardly fair."
"Therefore. Your final consists of a few questions about your experiences in this class. If you can tell me one thing which you have learned in this class, then you have passed." Her eyes were dancing as she continued. "I will, for that matter, accept 'literature is boring, and I hope to never speak of it again' as an answer, though I hope none of you feel that way."
"Your papers will be available during my office hours on Tuesday, should you wish for them to be returned. If you have other concerns, please do not hesitate to speak with me, either after class finishes today or then. For now, let us begin."
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