Teaching the Edge

Today’s post is brought to you by the Letter D.

My students handed in their first papers this week, with nearly half of them earning grades of B- and lower – all the way to a D. While I don’t believe in grade inflation, there were more in the C range than I was really expecting. The “A” papers were great. The “A-“ papers had original ideas and strong execution. B papers made good effort, had a solid thesis, but perhaps didn’t engage with the objects, or didn’t track the argument consistently through the paper, or could have benefited from more organizaiton. Lack of a thesis statement, no real argument, description of the artworks which didn’t support their argument, disorganization, serious typos and obvious lack of revision – all of these elements combine to make for a C or below.

The student who earned the D is a freshman who asked for an extension because she is overwhelmed by her math workload. She is an athelete, she has a part-time job, she participates and prepares and gets an A for effort every single time. She is taking art history because she wants to combine it with chemistry and perhaps pursue art conservation. She considers this her “fun” class without losing sight of her larger, more serious career goals. She doesn’t know that her current paper grade is a D. She does know that she needs to rewrite it, by early next week, because that [unknown] grade is neither the grade she deserves nor the grade of which she is capable. But this girl is falling prey to her own strength of spirit and personal goals.

She knows that her math class is harder than she should be taking because she wanted to combine two required classes into one as well as to challenge herself. And she believes that doing things outside her comfort zone is what allows her to succeed in being admitted to this particular university, and is a trait that will continue to help her succeed in the future. The girl is a powerhouse, full of good humor, strength, ambition and ideals. She puts 150% into everything she does, and accepts nothing less from herself. She just broke down into tears when we talked today, because she is having such a hard time with math and hates how it is negatively affecting the things she loves. It doesn’t help that freshman year – or the first period of any new endeavor – is not easy.

But right now she is working beyond her edge. She pushes her edge, like we all should, but the body responds faster than the brain and heart when our body goes too far beyond its edge. And she responded to that explanation especially well because she is an athlete. She challenges herself every day, just like the Eleanor Roosevelt quote about doing one thing every day that scares us. She knows that she has pushed too far past her edge, and unfortunately has no way back without sacrificing something that she loves (which is unacceptable).

We all need people to help us back off when we cross our edge. We need to have people who challenge us, but we also need those people to tell us when we’re hurting ourselves by going too far. It’s a fine line, balancing between a challenge and an injury that keeps us from moving forward into the future. All it takes is a micromovement to move from a challenge into an injury.

Yet it only takes a micromovement to bring us back in line with our edge, or even just to give us a little cheer and comfort as we hold on by our fingernails for just a little longer. As a teacher, that is what you are supposed to do: bring people back into alignment when they have challenged themselves to the point where they are no longer breathing. What I am trying to do, therefore, is to help move her back into alignment in whatever tiny ways I can: empathy, compassion, support, a hug editing-by-e-mail, and treating her to a cup of chocolate while reviewing her rewritten paper next week. Maybe, in these small ways, I can help her find her edge without losing the strength and joy and wonder that just bubbles out of her like so much champagne. It may not be defending the universe or saving the world, but it’s what I can do right now, right here, in my quest for service.