After the brouhaha about the marks I gave, we were talking about the long holiday (summer break during the September semester), and I mentioned that I would be traveling to Soroti and Rwanda to supervise students.
My sweet student who had chastised me for the Proverbs coursework said, "but I'm in Kitgum!" (which is nowhere near Soroti).
I think the class has (mostly) forgiven me.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Revolution over marks
Over the last two weeks or so, I've been returning my students' coursework. One of the good things about having the same class [cohort] for two course units is that we get to know each other well rather quickly. I've been returning their coursework for Psalms and Wisdom literature as I mark their group presentations.
However, for Biblical Interpretation, the coursework is all individual. For the first assignment, I gave them a handful of exercises out of the book to reinforce the concepts that we discuss in class. The second assignment is an exegesis of a passage of Scripture of their choice (5-10 verses).
All semester I have been telling my class that I am tough but fair, and that I have no tolerance for plagiarism. This is important, because the day they received their first marks, it was like I had used their own blood on the coursework rather than red ink.
They launched a revolt. They asked me to top up (add marks). I replied that marks are earned, not given. They begged and pleaded. They asked me to give marks for attendance. I replied that attending lectures is like breathing; why should I reward them for breathing?
The class was sufficiently apoplectic that I showed the point spread to the dean to get her opinion. No one was failing. She had a brilliant suggestion that I'm surprised none of us thought of: if someone is unhappy with their marks, they can resubmit the work.
Smashing. And how many do you think resubmitted? Probably five out of the 33.
However, for Biblical Interpretation, the coursework is all individual. For the first assignment, I gave them a handful of exercises out of the book to reinforce the concepts that we discuss in class. The second assignment is an exegesis of a passage of Scripture of their choice (5-10 verses).
All semester I have been telling my class that I am tough but fair, and that I have no tolerance for plagiarism. This is important, because the day they received their first marks, it was like I had used their own blood on the coursework rather than red ink.
They launched a revolt. They asked me to top up (add marks). I replied that marks are earned, not given. They begged and pleaded. They asked me to give marks for attendance. I replied that attending lectures is like breathing; why should I reward them for breathing?
The class was sufficiently apoplectic that I showed the point spread to the dean to get her opinion. No one was failing. She had a brilliant suggestion that I'm surprised none of us thought of: if someone is unhappy with their marks, they can resubmit the work.
Smashing. And how many do you think resubmitted? Probably five out of the 33.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Bane of my existence
There is one day each semester that I despise more than any other, and have freely deemed it to be the bane of my existence. It's only taken me a year to determine that this is a recurring event, so clearly, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but now that I know, I can prepare adequately.
The day is the Merging of the Exams. UCU oversees several regional colleges, and as such, we review their theology exam questions. I do have to say that as a former student and an instructional designer, I find this somewhat horrifying: we are changing exam questions for lectures that we have not heard. As an instructional designer, I know that the lecturer should follow the syllabus, and that our oversight is/should be a good thing, but still, I get a little apoplectic each time we conduct this exercise.
This semester, we were reviewing questions submitted by three schools. So, the dean hands out the submitted questions by area of expertise for us to review. Where there there is overlap in the courses, we merge the exams, so that the students in a given course are all answering the same questions. Each envelope is either a course or a program; I don't know how clear the stack of paper the dean is sorting through, but it's quite a bit of work.
Who do you think gets to make the corrections and do all the merging? Yours truly, the fastest fingers in Uganda.
Since I do the typing, I don't necessarily get to do a lot of the correction, which is unfortunate. It's actually somewhat fun, seeing what the lecturers have set for questions. Sometimes, the questions are too big for the diploma (associate's degree) or certificate (I don't know the equivalent for this; less than an associate's), so we reframe them. The dean gave us the guidance that if the question is a hen, cut it down to a neck or a thigh.
Merging exams is pretty much an all-day activity, and it took me a couple hours of typing and organizing the soft copy files the next day.
I took this photo of the table to try to show the volume of paper that's sorted (and that I end up changing), and someone asked me what I was doing. I said I was taking the picture as proof for the people at home that I actually work. They said that there must be a photo of me, so here you go.
The day is the Merging of the Exams. UCU oversees several regional colleges, and as such, we review their theology exam questions. I do have to say that as a former student and an instructional designer, I find this somewhat horrifying: we are changing exam questions for lectures that we have not heard. As an instructional designer, I know that the lecturer should follow the syllabus, and that our oversight is/should be a good thing, but still, I get a little apoplectic each time we conduct this exercise.
This semester, we were reviewing questions submitted by three schools. So, the dean hands out the submitted questions by area of expertise for us to review. Where there there is overlap in the courses, we merge the exams, so that the students in a given course are all answering the same questions. Each envelope is either a course or a program; I don't know how clear the stack of paper the dean is sorting through, but it's quite a bit of work.
Who do you think gets to make the corrections and do all the merging? Yours truly, the fastest fingers in Uganda.
Since I do the typing, I don't necessarily get to do a lot of the correction, which is unfortunate. It's actually somewhat fun, seeing what the lecturers have set for questions. Sometimes, the questions are too big for the diploma (associate's degree) or certificate (I don't know the equivalent for this; less than an associate's), so we reframe them. The dean gave us the guidance that if the question is a hen, cut it down to a neck or a thigh.
Merging exams is pretty much an all-day activity, and it took me a couple hours of typing and organizing the soft copy files the next day.
I took this photo of the table to try to show the volume of paper that's sorted (and that I end up changing), and someone asked me what I was doing. I said I was taking the picture as proof for the people at home that I actually work. They said that there must be a photo of me, so here you go.
Late, but still good
I just received this picture from the photographer (and the color was already whacked; I couldn't fix it). This is apparently my maniacal "I survived Martyrs' Day selling prayer books" smile. Say hi to Mary Jane's back, and her gorgeous African dress!
Monday, July 29, 2013
Nice weekend (or not)
I have been known to observe that The Lord looks after children and fools, and I fall in the latter category. That has never been true more than this weekend.
Thursday, I was returning the car to the Dennisons after getting it serviced, and while waking down the hill, wiped out. This is my first fall since returning as staff - I went a whole year without falling!! Fortunately, no one saw, and of course, my pride sustained the most damage.
Friday, I went to Kampala to have lunch with a friend and to go to the supermarket, as my Saturday morning was completely open, and I was planning to revel in this freedom. One of the Dennisons' helpers helped me carry the groceries down the (different, but equally slippery) hill, which was wonderful. However, it means that I didn't close all the car doors.
Saturday morning, Mary Jane called to tell me that my car interior light had been on, and now the battery was dead. Lovely. It took a couple phone calls to find someone who had a car, jumper cables, and was actually on campus, but it happened.
And then, Mary Jane and I spent the next two hours trying to jump my car. I'm from DC. I know how to do this. And yet. I ended up calling my mechanic, who sent someone who took care of it in 30 seconds. It was a bit humiliating, but it was finished.
If I had discovered that the battery was dead at 6:30 Sunday morning, that would have been bad. I had backed the car in so that the reverse beeping wouldn't have disturbed anyone. Had I not done that, jumping the car would have been impossible. Mary Jane was as gracious and fun as ever, and it was good to visit, as they had just returned from vacation.
Though it wasn't the idyllic Saturday I had originally envisioned, it was fun, despite the excitement. Most of all, I'm so grateful for God's provision and protection.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Marking myself silly
This was my desk yesterday. It's not a whole lot better today, sadly. I'm marking myself silly.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Even me...
Exam time is around the corner; these are theology students I saw from the upstairs window at Bp Tucker.
They are frantically cramming; as we say here, even me. I've got a list of things to write about-hopefully, I'll be able to get to it by next week!
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Happy Independence Day and happy anniversary!
Happy Independence Day, United States, and happy anniversary to me: I've been in Uganda (as staff) for one year!
Today in Dean's Hour, Dan Button, a former missionary lecturer here, showed a digitized video from the 1950s of the early days of the Bishop Tucker school. It was wonderfully done, and such a joy to see the familiar landscape as it looked so long ago! I'm hoping to get a copy of the DVD.
Dan is here with a contingent of Uganda Partners UK, and the members introduced themselves and this connection to the school. One was born here long ago, and her father was the first bishop in Mbale (in the east).
Two of the visitors particularly pricked my heart: Katherine Galpin, and her son (Jamie?). When she introduced herself, we all applauded, as the campus clinic was named for her late husband, Dr Allan Galpin. He had been a principal of the school, I believe, and he died suddenly while serving here in the 1980s, and he is buried on the grounds between the Bishop Tucker building and the theology library.
She allowed that there were some challenging emotions in returning, but that she was happy to be here. I saw so much courage and valor in her, and I pray she sees the wonderful legacy in the work that she and her husband began.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Earthquake!
There was an earthquake in Uganda yesterday, though I didn't feel it. We had another a little bit ago that I did feel - 5.9!
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/dyfi/events/pt/13184001/us/index.html
Monday, July 1, 2013
My newest friend
Yesterday, I met friends for lunch, and was driving back to campus for the Sunday evening Eucharist. I didn’t think that the traffic police worked on Sunday evenings; I was wrong. An officer waved me over.
I was interested to see why he pulled me over: they don’t have speed guns, I wasn’t on the phone, and had my seat belt on.
He waved me over because my windscreen (windshield was cracked). This is how the conversation went:
Officer: Did you know that your windscreen is cracked? I’m going to write you a receipt [ticket] for it.
Me: I did know; I’m sorry; I just purchased the vehicle from another missionary [trying to drop hints].
Officer: You did? Me: Yes.
Officer: It’s illegal to have a cracked windscreen [probably true, though you’d never know it from the state of windscreens here]. I’m going to write you a receipt for 60,000 shillings [$24], and you pay at the bank.
Me: OK; which bank? [because sometimes the government makes you use a bank that doesn’t have a branch in Mukono; I was wondering when I was going to have time to pay.]
Officer: Diamond Trust [ugh – no branch here] or Stanbic [yay – branch here]. Me: OK, thank you.
Officer: Let me see your driving permit. [I handed him my new Ugandan driving license; I have to confess that he examined it for what seemed like longer than necessary; I assume he was processing the fact that this mzungu had a Ugandan driving license!]
Officer: What country are you from? Me: the US.
Officer: The US? Isn’t it bad to have a cracked windscreen in the US?
Me: Yes, it is [not getting into that in Virginia, it depends on how big the crack is and whether it impedes your vision].
Officer: You take me to the US sometime.
Me: [laughing] I’m going in September.
Officer: Good; you take me.
Me: Will you fit in my luggage?
Officer: OK, since we are friends, I won’t write you a receipt, but you need to get the windscreen fixed.
So, no fee to pay, but now I need to get the windshield fixed. Ah... the joys of ownership... but the liberty I feel, and the ability to easily visit my students at their placements, is well worth it.
I was interested to see why he pulled me over: they don’t have speed guns, I wasn’t on the phone, and had my seat belt on.
He waved me over because my windscreen (windshield was cracked). This is how the conversation went:
Officer: Did you know that your windscreen is cracked? I’m going to write you a receipt [ticket] for it.
Me: I did know; I’m sorry; I just purchased the vehicle from another missionary [trying to drop hints].
Officer: You did? Me: Yes.
Officer: It’s illegal to have a cracked windscreen [probably true, though you’d never know it from the state of windscreens here]. I’m going to write you a receipt for 60,000 shillings [$24], and you pay at the bank.
Me: OK; which bank? [because sometimes the government makes you use a bank that doesn’t have a branch in Mukono; I was wondering when I was going to have time to pay.]
Officer: Diamond Trust [ugh – no branch here] or Stanbic [yay – branch here]. Me: OK, thank you.
Officer: Let me see your driving permit. [I handed him my new Ugandan driving license; I have to confess that he examined it for what seemed like longer than necessary; I assume he was processing the fact that this mzungu had a Ugandan driving license!]
Officer: What country are you from? Me: the US.
Officer: The US? Isn’t it bad to have a cracked windscreen in the US?
Me: Yes, it is [not getting into that in Virginia, it depends on how big the crack is and whether it impedes your vision].
Officer: You take me to the US sometime.
Me: [laughing] I’m going in September.
Officer: Good; you take me.
Me: Will you fit in my luggage?
Officer: OK, since we are friends, I won’t write you a receipt, but you need to get the windscreen fixed.
So, no fee to pay, but now I need to get the windshield fixed. Ah... the joys of ownership... but the liberty I feel, and the ability to easily visit my students at their placements, is well worth it.
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