They're just a phase. In fact, if I hold my breath long enough, by the time I'm ready to exhale, they'll be gone. Over the course of any given school day, they're just a blip on the radar; visible for a second and then gone.
Don't tell me to create. How about you create something? Instead, you're dumping your own lack of preparation on me and every other student in this classroom. I show up, I do my job. That's what it's been about. That's what it's all about. Honestly, I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish.They're just a fad. Campy little things. Even the other teachers think they're ephemeral. So I'm not about to invest any seriousness in their courses when I know that their colleagues think their instructional methods are of no greater interest than circus menagerie.
Don't tell me to interpret. That's your job. I read. I turn pages and stop at the assigned destination. I show up. You tell me what it was about. Ask a question, I'll silence the answer right out of you. You can't handle wait time. I know that, and so do you. You only have 87 minutes. 90 days. You can't wait. So just give me meaning. Give me the vomit and I'll regurgitate it on the quiz.They're trying too hard. Ning here. RSS there. Wiki, wiki, wiki, and what have you got? Pretty, password protected accessories. Ning will go away. RSS will pass. And no matter what, in another year I'll be out of here. So keep your Nings. Create a new wiki. I've been there. I've done that. I'm done.
Don't tell me. Anything. I show up. I do my job. This institution celebrates 'B Giveaway Day' every day of every year, and I've got a transcript chock full of B-infested evidence. My written work is inferior. My interpretations are literally literal. And my 3.0 GPA does little to inspire me to change. I'm the majority. And you, teacher, asking open-ended questions, assigning projects high-up Mr. Bloom's taxonomy, you're the minority. Ask any other teacher.What I think I know I think is true.