Where the Boys Are (Not)

The Matron is currently teaching a basic writing and research skills course, one that constitutes the bread and butter of her English faculty existence.

Graduating from this particular college? First, you must pass English 1009.

Merrick: first you must learn to read! That seems like a separate story, but is it? A steady fretter about her youngest, the Matron has long worried that her son's disdain for all things academic is simply setting him in the middle of the male pack.

And just how is that pack doing up the road--the boys in college?

Please do return to the topic of English 1009. In her online sections of this class there are 57 registered students. Of those 57 students, just 14 turned in rough drafts of the first paper. It's okay to gasp here. She did and had to steady herself on a desk.

Of those 14, guess how many were women?

The ONE man to turn in a rough draft is an adult student pushing forty. The Matron has barely heard from the 18-24 group. The English 1009 Online Discussion Board?

Courtney to Elizabeth; Brandee writes to Deirdre; Sandy asks Elle a question; Veronica to Brittany (one of the thirty); Katie queries Catherine.

You get it.

This trend is not simply anecdotal.

More women than men graduate from college.

Scrolling down a decade to the college student in the making, the Matron has been scheming for ways around Merrick's deep tissue resistance to reading--to touching a book, even.

The person to finally make the most significant breakthrough to date is a family member about whom she is not allowed to blog, HE WHO CANNOT BE NAMED (because the neighbors are watching) and the only person in the family advancing to a regional scientific competition and currently the proud possessor of grades that only include straight A+s. . . . (that's a plus, folks, not that she's bragging? well, sorta). . . .

Merrick has been introduced to the magazine version of Think Geek.

This magazine features gadgetry and gear beyond all measure! Light sabers, pepper shakers in the form of R2D2, mini Darth Vaders, lights, lasers, mini-cameras, key holders, spy cameras, thermometers . . . you name it!

Yesterday, not once, but several times, the Matron came into the kitchen to find Merrick at the table absorbed with the turning of pages.

"Mom? Does this mean fowty dollaws to buy?"

! Yes! He now knows some numbers!

"Mom? This wowd is 'sale' wight? Does that mean we can buy it?"

Merrick can read. Still below grade level. Still stwuggling. But the child has discovered the world of shopping by catalogs and cannot be restrained. Better than nothing. The Matron is thinking of this breakthrough sorta like her son's own little rough draft, turned in.

How the Day Went

Last night found the Matron eating dinner around 8:37 pm. She still had on heels and skirt. Merrick's best friend and future husband, Lachlan, was spending the night --and dying for some action.

Lachlan: "John, will you take us on a walk?"

John: "After I clean the kitchen."

beat, beat goes the clock

Lachlan: "Are you done yet?"

Visual Clue! There is not one inch of empty counter space because MEN have been home alone and in charge of cooking. Plates, pots, pans, utensils --each with varying degrees of content left, half-baked or uneaten, within. There is a layer of Meal (think grime) on stove and the sink is functioning as general dump site.

John: "Not yet, Lachlan."

John ties on his (very manly) cooking and cleaning apron.

beat/beat goes the clock

Lachlan: "Now?"

Mind you, the Matron's hands are not getting messy. In full work regalia, the lovely lady is at the table trying to assess the post-vulture options for dinner. She is eating in the wake of FIVE males, inlcuding one six foot tall teenage boy.

There is not much left. Although she hears Satan's Familiar got a full pork chop when heads were turned. Damn that doorbell.

Lachlan: "John?"

John: "Lachlan, you know how in cartoons sometimes the bunny's head spins around and around and around and his eyes bug out and steam and fireworks come out of his ears?"

Lachlan: "Uh Huh."

John: "That might happen to me. So you better go in the living room because it's sort of dangerous."

Lachlan: "Can't I watch?"

John: "Lachlan."

Lachlan shares Scarlett's steel will (or Scarlett's inability to take not yet for an answer which would require actual physical horrific waiting) so he turns to the Matron.

Lachlan: "Mary will you take Merrick and me on a walk?"

Matron: "It is physically impossible for me to take anyone on a walk because I rose at 6 am, cleaned up Jekyll's night time accident(s), fed the three dogs and forced them outside, picked up and carried the two geriatric dogs back inside and then took Satan's love child on a five mile run so that he could lose five pounds of body weight through poop -- all before eight hours of lectures on technology and teaching (mindomo! Ning! Bing! Twitter and Dvolver and zohono. she is full of .com) followed by a completely fruitless trip to a northern suburb in search of the one item Scarlett wants for her birthday and nobody seems to have, followed by a swing to your house to retrieve two emerging police-fire-superhero-men and I have been gone for nearly 12 hours and have not yet had dinner and am still wearing a skirt. With heels. Which is why I am unable to do the walk thing."

Lachlan: "Is that sort of like your head going round and round?"

Matron: "Exactly!"

Lachlan: "That's actually not so fun to watch. Or very dangerous - John."

Thus deterred, Lachlan heads to the living room where Merrick awaits.

John: "Whatever happened to the simple: no, thank you."

Matron: "The fireworks coming out of your ears while your head spun round hit that simple no, thank you, and knocked it over into the house of someone less exhausted."

Things just got better from there . . . ?

You Too Can be a Community College Teacher

The Matron just HAD to share this with her readers!  This is one of her all time favorite John Cheever stories, read by the fabulous Richard Ford.  

Chills, girlfriends!  

Do you have a link to online literature you love--a story or reading or other experience?  The Matron is teaching Introduction to Literature, online.    She's open (uh, desperate?) for ideas to snazz up her class.

Enjoy the ice and rage that is John Cheever. . . . 

Lord of the Flies, Day Two

So the Matron hauled her fine ass out of bed at 5:46 am and by 6:20 was in a caffeine-fueled frenzy at the rental property.

Clang, clang, clang go the Digression Bells!

Friends, yesterday's blog post brought in about 100 readers more than she usually gets! Unless somebody else is pimping her blog, she's thinkin' that some search engine liked the post's title, all that loving of women and such. Hmmmm.

Hey, if you're still there, not only is she NOT writing this naked, she is wearing mud-caked pants, a twenty year old t-shirt and an earthy personal aroma. Breasts? She used those up.

Back to the Land Baron Narrative.

Over the past three days, the Matron has cleaned for about 300 hours, making up for all that time nobody else did. She touched things she decidedly did not want to touch! You can shudder. She sure did.

John joined her around 8 am.

Because this house is one block away, periodically our children just showed up. First, Scarlett came and she brought a friend .

Scarlett: "Mom? Don't you remember that today is my American Girl Overnight party? Ellie, Lia, and Maddie are getting dropped off early and you're taking us to the movie? And they're spending the night?"

Indeed, the Matron would have conveniently repressed that fact. So not only were her own children on their own for day number 2, she added 3 more of other people's to the mix! Plus, she was reminded how keen her family's communications skills had become. Wouldn't such an event warrant at least one conversation?

Soon, Stryker and Merrick made an appearance, the latter in his new uniform of the Matron's latest thrift store steals: army pants, army shirt (even says 'US army), big bulky boots and a dead cell phone.

Stryker: "Mom, Merrick's my new minion. Minion! Get me that branch from the sidewalk!"

Merrick: "Pwease don't fire me any mowe, Strwker. I like being a minion."

You see, if Merrick missteps, he gets fired from his minionship. Then he cries. Then the Matron has to put down the tremendous piece of plaster she's falling under and actually tend to her children. She does not have the time for that!

In the midst of this, she had to clean up and scurry out to College X to interview people who want to take over the adjunct job she swapped for the full-time gig.

During his interview, Candidate Q made eye contact with the Dean. And then never turned that channel! There were four other people around that table and the Matron radiated ESP toward that man: over here! Look at me! Make a room scan! She extended positive, encouraging body language and facial expression to no avail. Mostly, she felt sorry for the Dean who was limpid after her 45 minute individual eye-lock.

Upon her return home, she donned the disgusting clothes and took one terrified look through her thoroughly trounced house. Yes, the children are rehearsing their worst college dorms scenes while she's away.

After dinner (ha! cheese and wheat-free crackers) she took five girls to see the new American Girl Movie and hates to admit (well, she's admitting to many so 'hate' might be hyperbole) that she cried, many many many many times. And laughed. So did those American girl-world citizens she brought along.

And earlier today, when the toothless 50-something woman who lived in the apartment building behind the new rental, came over and said: "I need $17.21. I can clean, haul garbage, sew, do small handy jobs. Do you have $17.21 of work for me?"

The contractor scowled and walked away. The Matron looked at the mess and chaos around her and picked a distinct cleaning job (windows, doors) and the end result? Outstanding! Gleam and shine. The $20 the Matron handed that woman? Reminded her how many people can't take a bus or buy a prescription or can of coke without serious consideration and stress.

So she's been up since daybreak. She has a big house and one to boot. And never ever any end of blog posts because each day seems to hold a story.

But really, soon the one about siblings and tired old personal narratives! The Matron might just be Sigmund Freud incarnate and she has Analysis, ahead.

New Mama

Remember the Pregnant Student?

Today, her friend A (who we just adore) raised her hand and said, "XX had her baby!!"

Victoria was born on Sunday, bursting on the scene at 7 lbs and 4 ounces. Report has it that she's beautiful. Perfect. Her Mama is 19 years old.

Here's the email that Dr. Professor Matron sent the New Mama:

**

Dear XX,

A told me that the stunning Victoria was born in the wee hours of Sunday April 13 and that she's beautiful. I'm so happy for you! Welcome to the Mama Club. Even though I'm your teacher, this Club is a special place that we both belong to, on equal footing. It's something the non-Mama's don't fully know (but they appreciate because women are good that way). I'm happy to meet you here. Take care of yourself and the sweet Victoria and worry about College English 2 whenever you're ready.

Mary

***

And, she meant it.

On a Somber Note

My students give me unlimited writing material.

And this is troubling.

Their lives are chaotic. They're under-prepared. Many can't write a proper sentence. They are utterly without organizational skills.

They really want to do better, and just don't know how.

The worst? Many, if not most, exhibit little curiosity about the world around them. They are tapped into the culture through celebrities, television and games, but don't grapple with big issues--environment, politics, poverty, dynamics of gender and race.

We've had several frank discussions about their disinterest in the great big troubling fabulous complicated world.

They admit that they're uninformed and uninvolved. Why? Because they're busy earning money.

My students are all white-knuckle and strain, trying to get into that middle-class. An education is one way in. But college costs money. So they have 2 jobs. Or 3. This gets in the way of homework.

Toss in Life with all its complications, lack of fundamental writing skills, and a dim understanding of the concept "time management" and you have all those D's, F's and withdrawals in my grade book.

Oh, and don't forget the venerable Game and vast Internet. Video games are relaxing. It's how they unwind. YouTube is sorta like oxygen and blood. Some of us bloggers have a little bit of this bug, too.

In "Citizenship In Emergency" -- a very fine essay about 9-11-- Elaine Scarry argues that our nation has an urgent need for a more informed citizenry. She urges each of us to attend to our responsibilities as citizens, to be actively engaged with the government that structures so much of our lives.

Far from this, my students remain on their financial treadmills, nose to the minutiae of their own existence. When they get off for a few minutes, they unwind. Click! Online or with game.

Totally understandable. And alarming.