Week 10, Owls, Final exams

(Tues a.m.) Week 10 was anticlimactic with students pushing to get the research project completed by class time on Thursday. I always feel nervous about this part of the curriculum because students always act as if they know exactly what to do to document claims for a research paper. No matter how many times I monitor and check, I am always reassured somehow that they're on track. Then they turn in their papers. As usual, things fall apart and I begin to doubt my own teaching skill with this. Granted, research is not my favorite thing and I can barely keep up with all the changes being made, so I always struggle trying to do the "right thing" and get this successfully under the learning belts of students. So as I graded the papers, I was dismayed that what seemed like many demonstrated only the barest hint that they knew what this assignment was all about. And then I graphed/charted the scores. There were plenty of A's and B's, some C's, and more D's and F's than I'm really comfortable with but the stats show that the assignment "took." (More later.)
(Tues mid-afternoon) I am at the main campus. This will be my last official office time so I have set about clearing things up and out. Mary's drawings are off the walls along with some colorful visuals I created from last year's Linnea calendar. I recycled some old student papers, shelved the books I don't want to take home and left the drawers free of any personal items. The only thing I will leave is my beloved John Travolta poster. This interesting object was given to me years ago by my friend Kristi who knew what a fan I was (and still am even though he's old and worn like everyone else I know). It's a kitschy thing done in airbrushed pen and ink depicting an all seeing John Travolta whom the artist wants us to see as an attractive and powerful man. I have taken the poster to my Writing 122 classes many times and used it as the basis for arguing about art. It has produced some of the best discussions and some of the best writing I've seen in all my tenure.
But somebody in the office doesn't like the poster. She (or he) turned John's face toward the wall. If only they knew how much learning energy came from that poster, she might think twice before banishing John's face from sight. So I think it only appropriate that I leave the poster here in the office for others to contemplate. I wonder how long it will last? I just might be able to find out if ever I decide to teach another class. But I'll just quietly leave John in the hands of the current and future office occupants.
So good-by, office. (More later.)
(Tues p.m.) I took my last walk across campus with my hood up and the raindrops coming down stepping around a small group of laughing students who were obviously as relieved as I am to be finished with final exams for the day. I took one last short cut through the student center to say good-by to my favorite server, Robin, but she was no where in sight. The usual guitar players were there and the usual loud game players were clustered around the tables by Counseling Services. I felt like the only person in the building as I took one final trip down the elevator in Randall Hall. The basketball players weren't even practicing. Then out the door and into the dark parking lot for one last time. I heaved my backpack into the car for the last time and vowed to retire it to a fitting place soon. As many and varied as were the memories that were floating around and through my mind, I didn't feel any sense of loss or sadness or nostalgia. What's done is done. My tent is folded and I have stolen silently into the night and left the days of teaching behind.
(Next time: the truth about the owls.)