My final grade just posted and I’ve been waiting to give a recap of my classes. I commented on my initial impressions awhile back at the beginning of the semester and wanted to give my final thoughts as well. Overwhelmingly, this was a good semester but I’m never beyond complaining. My classes were:
Narrative Craft and Theory: The Researched Story
Feminist Critical Theory: Cultural Diversity/Multiculturalism/Globalization-Gendered Debates
The Writer and the Current Literary Scene
As I did last time, I’ll put my comments below the cut so as not to clutter LiveJournal pages with what will likely be a long post.
Narrative Craft and Theory: The Researched Story
This workshop happened twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays for ninety minutes. In a word, it was great. The other students (10 in all, I think) were good writers and gave valuable critiques. In addition to some readings and writing exercises, everyone had to produce one reasearched story of a considerable length (most ended around 7K words) and I was surprised at how much stories improved between drafts one and two. The weak point of the course was having to do a third draft of the same story. The improvements between two and three were less noticeable and I think a lot of my classmates felt their stories were ready to go after pass number two.
The professor is terrific and I’m looking forward to taking another workshop he’s teaching next semester. More than likely, I’ll be asking him to by advisor/mentor in the near future. He does a great job creating the workshop environment. We laugh a lot, but nobody—including him—holds back saying what they really think, which is necessary for us to improve as writers. I learned as much as I could in the workshop environment, so I call this class a complete success.
Feminist Critical Theory: Cultural Diversity/Multiculturalism/Globalization-Gendered Debates
Hate is such a strong word, isn’t it? But I’m tempted to use it when describing this course. I started counting the number of classes left in early November. In December, I broke it down into the number of hours remaining. The last day of class, my buddy chuckled when he noticed that I’d broken the three hour seminar into fifteen-minute increments and crossed them out as they passed, just so I could feel like time was indeed moving.
Classes are dependent upon the professor and students in the class. In this case, I wasn’t a huge fan of either. The course material was very interesting and I learned a ton, but I got very, very little out of attending class. First off, the professor obviously didn’t like any of the three Creative Writing students (of which I was one.) In fact, it became a running joke how our relevant comments would be routinely dismissed, whereas students in the Modern Studies program (i.e. everyone else) was encouraged regardless of what they said. There were virtually no expectations set for our projects and we didn’t ever get feedback on our performances. I have no idea how she came up with my grade (A- in case you were wondering, which is really like a B.) I won’t take another class with this professor again. Period.
I’m not looking forward to having classes with some of the other students too. Many were fine people I’m sure I could have a beer with. But others seemed to take root in what was cultivated to be a hostile environment. People routinely jumped down each others throats. The standard fall-back question was “What do you mean by your use of the word culture/ race/ class/ ethnicity/ gender?” which is a cheap entry point into critiquing someone else’s thoughts—just sit back and prepare to pounce. Everyone learned pretty quickly that you can’t get shredded if you don’t speak up, so we got used to uncomfortable silence. Also, one person presented discussion questions for each class. 90% of the time, the class critiqued the verbiage of the question rather than trying to answer what the writer was asking.
Add to this a strong dose of absurdity and you’ve got this class. We read three very interesting articles on Muslim women and veiling but the conversation focused on how the authors defined “women” and how transexuals deal with veiling issues around the Muslim world. Valid points, but dwelling on them for the better part of three hours totally misses the context of the readings and the course. Context seemed to be a recurring problem with this class, as every reading could be “critiqued” (and I use that word loosely) for not sufficiently addressing race, class, caste, or gender. Nevermind that no fifteen page article can sufficiently address all of these things (the ones that do are called books) but again, this is a nice, cheap entry point into criticizing something in order to make one feel superior. A prime example of the academic one-upmanship bullshit that I’m striving to avoid at all costs.
Like most classes, this one had potential that it just didn’t live up to. A number of my fellow students obviously know far more about modern theories than I do. It would have been nice to have been educated, rather than slammed, for not knowing about them. Have you ever talked to someone who thinks you’re an idiot? Where they take what you’re saying and turn it into something stupid because that’s what they expect out of you? Try that for four months, three hours a week.
The Writer and the Current Literary Scene
This class was the surprise of the semeseter. I gained more and more respect for my professor as the class wore on and I saw why he’d chosen the books that he did. His assignments (a series of papers, impromptu writing exercises, and a final exam) actually made you think more deeply about the works that we discussed. He’s Irish and I think comes at education from a different perspective, one that’s welcome.
The class was mostly undergrads who didn’t say much. The seminar was supposed to be a series of open-ended discussions, but the conversation wasn’t helped much by the time (from 4:30 to 7:00 pm) or the fact that few of the students wanted to speak up. Had this class been stocked with grad students, I think it would have been a whole different matter.
But this class more than the others underlined why, as a writer, I wanted to go to grad school in the first place. I wouldn’t have read many of the books on my own but, ultimately, they truly did shape the way I think about the modern literary scene. The professor was big on experiments, even failed ones. He encouraged students to write poetic, free-flowing essays which surely must be more interesting to read than the formulaic way we’ve been taught. In fact, the clarity and insight of some of these papers is what made me wish more of the students spoke up. But I never talked much in class as an undergrad, so I can’t say I blame them.
Overall, a good, solid first semester that made me glad I’ve decided to pursue my graduate degree. Two of these classes I almost didn’t want to end—but the third couldn’t end soon enough. I’m hoping next semester is an improvement in that I’m taking some sciffy stuff: A workshop entitled “Magic and Wonder” and a sci-fi utopia/dystopia class. I know both professors and I think they’ll be great, and my third class is “Native American Humor,” and the professor has a good reputation.
More on these after school starts back up.