Reluctant, Embarrassed, Scared, or Royally Angry?
I’ve had quite a few reluctant students, (maybe it’s me?!) and I would have to agree with Michelle—there are definitely degrees of reluctance. It’s always fun to start a session when the first words out of the student’s mouth include “professor,” “forced,” and “brown slip.” Nice. I’ve been lucky enough to have students say this and yet engage in the session after a few minutes. I try to empathize with them enough to get at the reason behind the reluctance. Are they short on time? Overwhelmed with coursework? Is the paper perfect as is? Once you get them talking, you can usually get down to business. If this doesn’t work, offer them candy. Kidding.
Sometimes I think embarrassment may be part of the reason students are reluctant. I mentioned in class that I’d tutored a woman who whispered through the entire session. She was a returning student, struggling with the demands of homework, career, and family. She told me she felt incredibly old and slow and was embarrassed that she couldn’t “see” what others did in the literature assigned for her class. I don’t know if the reason for the whispering was an attempt to keep her ideas quiet--so no one else in the room could hear them—or something else.
A few weeks ago I tutored a girl who was very agitated. She walked into the Writing Center—and back out the door—two or three times. Then she got frustrated when the scanner didn’t recognize her card right away. I thought she’d walk again. She pushed past Greg, who was waiting to tutor her, and asked me to help. The assignment was a 1010 paper, but she wouldn’t pull it out of the folder. We talked about the requirements of the assignment for a few moments, and I thought she was beginning to unwind. Then she announced, “I can’t do this.” I thought I’d lost her.
As it turns out, the 1010 assignment was not the primary reason she had come to the Writing Center. She needed help with a letter. She had applied for a job in the security field, and was rejected because of her criminal background. The company had given her an opportunity to explain her “crime” in detail—and this is what had her so agitated. The crime was very embarrassing; her behavior suddenly made perfect sense. After we finished the letter she relaxed and brought out the 1010 assignment. No more reluctance.
Sometimes I think reluctance stems from fear. This week, when I was tutoring on the Davis campus, I noticed a girl sitting among the math students. She was clearly working on a writing assignment. Every now and again she would look over at me at the writing table, but would quickly look away. I tutored two students and read another chapter of Faulkner before this girl finally approached my table and asked for help. She was scared to death. She had been trying to “fix” her rough draft before I looked at it. She told me she knew her writing was awful and her topic stupid. This was one of the longest sessions I’ve ever had—exhausting and rewarding at the same time.
The first reluctant student I had actually turned out to be less reluctant than angry. Angry at his professor, his paper, and the university (and the universe) in general. He was in an upper division English class and had received a really low grade on his assignment. He was also an English major. Ouch. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I sat back and let him vent. He calmed down, we got to work, he remembered he was angry, we stopped to let him vent again. And thus it went. I thought the session was borderline disaster, but he came in the next day to say thanks. I’ve tutored him twice since then and the sessions have gone smoothly.
For now.
Sometimes I think embarrassment may be part of the reason students are reluctant. I mentioned in class that I’d tutored a woman who whispered through the entire session. She was a returning student, struggling with the demands of homework, career, and family. She told me she felt incredibly old and slow and was embarrassed that she couldn’t “see” what others did in the literature assigned for her class. I don’t know if the reason for the whispering was an attempt to keep her ideas quiet--so no one else in the room could hear them—or something else.
A few weeks ago I tutored a girl who was very agitated. She walked into the Writing Center—and back out the door—two or three times. Then she got frustrated when the scanner didn’t recognize her card right away. I thought she’d walk again. She pushed past Greg, who was waiting to tutor her, and asked me to help. The assignment was a 1010 paper, but she wouldn’t pull it out of the folder. We talked about the requirements of the assignment for a few moments, and I thought she was beginning to unwind. Then she announced, “I can’t do this.” I thought I’d lost her.
As it turns out, the 1010 assignment was not the primary reason she had come to the Writing Center. She needed help with a letter. She had applied for a job in the security field, and was rejected because of her criminal background. The company had given her an opportunity to explain her “crime” in detail—and this is what had her so agitated. The crime was very embarrassing; her behavior suddenly made perfect sense. After we finished the letter she relaxed and brought out the 1010 assignment. No more reluctance.
Sometimes I think reluctance stems from fear. This week, when I was tutoring on the Davis campus, I noticed a girl sitting among the math students. She was clearly working on a writing assignment. Every now and again she would look over at me at the writing table, but would quickly look away. I tutored two students and read another chapter of Faulkner before this girl finally approached my table and asked for help. She was scared to death. She had been trying to “fix” her rough draft before I looked at it. She told me she knew her writing was awful and her topic stupid. This was one of the longest sessions I’ve ever had—exhausting and rewarding at the same time.
The first reluctant student I had actually turned out to be less reluctant than angry. Angry at his professor, his paper, and the university (and the universe) in general. He was in an upper division English class and had received a really low grade on his assignment. He was also an English major. Ouch. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I sat back and let him vent. He calmed down, we got to work, he remembered he was angry, we stopped to let him vent again. And thus it went. I thought the session was borderline disaster, but he came in the next day to say thanks. I’ve tutored him twice since then and the sessions have gone smoothly.
For now.
posted by cheyney at 8:51 PM
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