Two more weeks, two more weeks…

I’m in correcting hell.
I have completed five courses in the Master of Education program, including one specifically on assessment, and I still cannot make myself like marking. If anything, the course on assessment has made correcting even more heinous, since I am now convinced that copious feedback is essential, and timely feedback even more so…
…which means that still having my students’ mid-term essays in my possession one week after the fact makes me feel like I am somehow cheating them out of something…
…which means that I am desperately ploughing through about 110 750-word essays this weekend, giving each and every one a thorough going-over with my highlighter and pen, trying to keep my handwriting legible after eight hours…
…which is why I called my friend Marianne this afternoon – she, too, is a teacher, and is teaching a course right now, and she’s a mom, too, and she’s studying too (although she’s finishing her doctoral dissertation, so she’s kinda one-upped me). I called her for a chat and commiseration. Naturally, when her husband answered the phone…
I forgot her name.
Now, this woman is not a casual acquaintance. We have seen each other in yoga pants. But for the life of me, I could not remember her name.
To my credit, if I had called my sister instead, chances are I would have forgotten her name. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t call whatshername, in that case.
Thankfully, I do know Marianne’s husband, so I made small talk with him while I desperately searched my so-called brain for the required data. Thankfully, also, I had no trouble remembering her last name, so I just had to keep plugging away at the [blank] Surname formula, and eventually my brain rebooted and I was able to ask relatively normally to speak with Marianne.
Of course, by then her husband probably thought I was drunk, but hey, marking is hell.

2 Replies to “Two more weeks, two more weeks…”

  1. Oh, I do feel your pain! I chalked it up to my innate compulsivity, but I had to fight with myself to spend less than 45 minutes on each essay, and I am not exaggerating! Two or three different professors or instructors told me how they finished more quickly; each suggestion made so much sense that I determined, every time, to try their way. I failed, every time.
    Fight it, Mag’, fight it! Tooth and toenail, fight it! Be strong! Be brief! Save yourself, before it’s too late!
    If that doesn’t work, try telling yourself you’re spending more time and more care than your students spent in writing their essays. Not always true, but often enough!
    ‘Course, that didn’t work for me, either. Sigh.

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