William Eldridge Dabbs–My Uncle El

July 13, 2015July 14, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

This is the edition that Uncle El gave me. I had to replace it a couple of years ago because I read and re-read it so much. I still have the copy, though.

My Uncle El, my mother’s only sibling, passed away over 25 years ago. He, like the rest of those in my mother’s family, was a teacher–at least for most of his life. He taught Spanish. After his first heart attack, even before really, he, like so many teachers before him, was experiencing some significant burn-out–totally understandable burn-out, but he never lost his teacher heart–his love for books and words and music–his yearning to travel and see new places.

He was a tolerant and patient uncle, up to a point. I think when I was about 10, my brother, sister and I learned just how far we could push him–my younger brother learned later. He was a kid’s dream uncle. He would take us to the movies in whatever cool car he had at the time (the convertible complete with 8-track player was my favorite). I remember one time after seeing Charlton Heston in a Sci Fi movie, riding around Columbus with the top down, hanging out the window and yelling, “Soylent Green is people!” And he let us do that! What a great guy!.

Always single with no family of his own, he was always there when we needed him. He drove mom to the hospital when she went into labor with my brother Rob. He took my sister and I to horse shows–staying with us in the heat of an Alabama summer day and late into the night. He accompanied our family across the country when my dad came home from Vietnam, and we wanted to meet Dad in California. He took us out for pizza and steak, ice cream ahd his favorite, Chinese food. He bought us fireworks (legal in Alabama at the time), something that Mom would not have done for sure. He would let us play while he stayed inside and read his books. He was always reading a book.

To satisfy his love of books on a public school teacher’s pay, he often frequented the big used book store in Columbus, Georgia and another one in Montgomery, Alabama–Auburn was still just a little college town and didn’t have too many places to shop in the 60s and 70s. He would go on these book trips and get dozens and dozens of books. He was very proud of them and kept them all in order. He would get detective novels, historical fiction, thrillers, and even romances. He never said that he got the romances for me, in fact, I often saw him reading them himself, but he always made it a point to show me the romances that he bought, and I felt that they were for me.

After one of these shopping trips, he showed me a box full of one particular romance author–Georgette Heyer, his favorite Regency romance writer. I had not started reading Jane Austen yet. She was still a bit difficult for me, so he told me that Heyer was a 20th Century author who wrote about the early 19th Century in England, just like Austen, but that Heyer would probably be easier for me to read. He had at least a dozen of her books in the box, and he challenged me to read them that summer. I took up the gauntlet and after the first book I was hooked! Heyer wrote with such wit–her characters were funny, heroic and honorable–just like Austen. Heyer’s heroines were not always the most beautiful or even the most clever, but they had courage and resilience, and I so wanted to be like them.

Uncle El made it a point to collect all of the Georgette Heyer Regency romances and mysteries. He would read them too, and we would talk about the wonderful characters and the funniest passages. Reading Georgette Heyer, and soon afterwards, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, Anthony Trollope, Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell and others, I became a true Anglophile and have remained one ever since, now teaching British literature, specializing in 19th Century British literature.

I don’t think my uncle was looking for a teachable moment when he introduced me to Georgette Heyer–he just shared his love of books with me, but his interest in me and in my literary education has had a profound and lasting impact on my life. He was a great teacher, a great man, and I miss him.

* * *

If you like witty, charming romantic novels, give Georgette Heyer a try. Here are a few of my favorites:

The Foundling
Friday’s Child
Cotillion
The Quiet Gentleman
The Unknown Ajax

Traveling the Book: Teaching Deep Research in 200-Level Online Literature Courses, Part II

June 12, 2015June 12, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

It took me a while, but I finally finished my sample “Traveling the Book” Project for my online American Literature I class that I’ll be teaching in the fall. As I explained in my last post, the major research project in the class is to research a book of literary and historical importance to the time period we are studying, then write an annotated bibliography of ten scholarly sources, concentrating on the biographical details of the author, the historical context of the author’s life and of the book, as well as the setting of the novel.

I have had great results with this project in my British Lit. I and II online courses, but I wasn’t sure how it would work to make travel plans for a literary tour of the U.S., but my sample imaginary tour turned out great!

The students start their presentations with a summary, then a historical timeline. Next comes a 14-day itinerary of their plans that must relate to aspects of the book and/or the author’s life. Finally, there is a detailed itemized budget.

I hope you’ll take a look at my project presentation whether you are a teacher or not. I think you’ll like it. It certainly was a great deal of fun to produce.

Note: All the photos used are purely for educational purposes.

The Coquette

Throw Back Sunday

May 17, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

My Work Home

I used to write a BRCC column a couple of times a month for the Hendersonville Times-News. Here’s one of those columns, from back in 2003:

A series of events the past few weeks has caused an identity crisis in me, forcing me to ask that question teachers often find themselves asking. “What exactly do we have to offer—what is our role?

Should we be entertainers? After all, it is difficult to keep students engaged, especially when many have grown up passively viewing a television screen or matching wits with an exciting computer-generated opponent. Sometimes we try to “jazz things up,” yet no matter how witty our illustrations or detailed our demonstrations, despite our high tech visual aids, we teachers can’t match the special effects of Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.

Of course, teachers should make attempts to prompt student responses through group discussion and student comments, but in the end it is the teacher who has the responsibility to bring student discussions to the sticking point, to summarize key points of any discussion. I know it’s become a dirty word in some circles, but sometimes we even need to lecture. For many students, that’s not entertainment.

If it is not a teacher’s role to be an entertainer or merely a facilitator, is it to be an encourager? Everyone needs praise. Good teachers know this and try to find real reasons for praise. One word of encouragement from an admired and respected instructor can fuel some students for an entire semester. Sometimes praise can even change a student’s life; however, constructive criticism has also been known to be the making of a person.

Teachers sometimes see themselves as physicians, highly trained professionals who diagnose problems and offer cures. But others sometimes see us as nothing more than dispensers of grades—recorders. I do the work; you write my A in the grade book and raise my self-esteem.

Are we here to make students feel better about themselves? Are we counselors? As a writing teacher, I sometimes find it difficult to even constructively criticize a student’s work if I’m aware of his or her difficult circumstances. I ask myself, what if he or she takes my criticism personally. Could my words so sting that the student becomes so angry or discouraged that he or she drops my class or quits school?

In the end, good teachers know avoiding the errors in student performance, no matter what the students’ difficulties, can only block their ability to learn. Our job is to assess students and inform them of their problem areas, not to assure them, “Everything is okay.”

At the beginning of the semester in my freshman composition classes, I relate to students my educational philosophy by describing a scene from the movie All That Jazz, based on the life of Bob Fosse, the late choreographer and Broadway director of Chicago. The Fosse-like character becomes frustrated with a beautiful young dancer who gets her job more for her sexual appeal than her dancing ability. When the young woman breaks down in tears, the choreographer stops the music and goes to the girl, saying something like this: “I can’t promise you I’ll make you a great dancer. I can’t even promise I can make you a good dancer. But if you work real hard and listen to what I say, I’ll make you a better dancer.”

Like the choreographer, we can’t make many promises. We can’t say for sure that our students will be stimulated or get A’s or even pass. But we can make the promise that if they will listen, even if the delivery is not of their liking, even if the grade is not what they expect, they will learn.

Reminded then of our promise, our role becomes clear. I know what it is we have to give. It’s not entertainment, not unreserved praise; it’s not a shoulder to cry on. The only thing we can offer our students is what we know—about our disciplines, about learning, about life.

The rest is up to them.

The Quality of Mercy

May 6, 2015May 6, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Maggie Smith, one of my favorite actors, as Portia 
in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice--
the BBC's 1972 version of the play

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God’s

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, …

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That, in the course of justice, none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much

To mitigate the justice of thy plea;

Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice

Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.

— The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1

I am so much like Shylock. I believe strongly in justice. Just like Shylock, I don’t just seek justice, I demand it. But unlike him, I hope, in dealings with my students anyway, I see the wisdom of Portia, one of my favorite of Shakespeare’s female characters, and I know that it would have served Shylock well to heed Portia’s words and render mercy. And indeed, many times when a student asks for mercy, and I choose to give it, we are indeed both blessed. The student gets a chance to rectify whatever problem there is–attendance, poor performance in class, misbehavior in class, whatever it may be, and I get the satisfaction of helping a student succeed and truly learn something valuable.

Sometimes, however, that mercy is given, the student takes it, and then uses my act of mercy against me. This just doesn’t happen to teachers, of course, but I find that the teaching profession seems particular vulnerable to the ungrateful. I get so disheartened when this happens that I want to make a list of strict rules and never show any mercy whatsoever. Sometimes I think my colleagues and supervisors would be happier if my mercy were a bit less freely given. Now, I do have rules and high standards, but I temper them with mercy if I see that I can help the student. I just have to, you see, because of the mercy shown to me.

I remember when I was a senior in undergrad school. I was struggling, like a lot of my own students, with who I was and where I was going next. I was pretty smart and had a way with words, but I was so caught up in my life –meeting people and learning a new language and becoming a woman and discovering hidden talents, like acting and persuasive speaking, that I had, frankly, lost interest in my English studies.

I procrastinated with my paper and put it off and off that last semester of my first senior year that when I finally started working on it in earnest, I realized that it would be impossible for me to finish. I had to ask for an extension. I was truly scared when I walked into my professor’s office. He was intimidating because he was so brilliant as well as being the head of the English department. I didn’t think he even really knew my name. I was standing there and couldn’t speak. He finally looked up and said something, I can’t really remember, and I blurted it all out. Not all of “it” was absolutely true either, but he had mercy. He gave me the extension I requested without hesitation. Then he did something I never expected–He pointed to the chair and said, “Now sit down and tell me what’s really bothering you.”

I finished the paper that first semester of my 2nd senior year. I never had worked so hard on anything in my life. 35 pages comparing the works of Flannery O’Connor and Franz Kafka–two displaced people who didn’t fit in anywhere, so they became writers or maybe they were writers and that’s why they didn’t fit in. I still don’t know. Anyway, I could say I finally found my way while I was writing that paper, and it would be a lie. I could say I stopped procrastinating and learned my lesson; that too would be untrue. No, I worked that hard out of gratitude to the professor who showed me mercy. His mercy, freely given, was twice blessed.

So I lean towards mercy when I think that mercy is going to be best for the student, when the student has a chance of making real change in his or her life. However, the quality of mercy is not strained (or forced). If the mercy is to be at all, then it must come freely given from the person granting that gift. For example, Portia is a wise judge. She knows she cannot legally force Shylock to have mercy because then that mercy would simply be a violation of justice. True mercy requires true justice. So she appeals to Shylock’s sense of justice when she appeals to his mercy. But he doesn’t want justice. He wants revenge.

As we see later in the play, Shylock made a grave mistake not granting mercy–it led to his bankruptcy and loss of his only child–making the play a tragedy more than a comedy in my mind, so great is Shylock’s loss. But Shylock’s fall is inevitable because Shylock is so full of anger, justifiably so perhaps considering the anti-semitic society in which he lives, that he can not show mercy because mercy must be freely given.

Therefore, even if a student takes my merciful action and uses it against me, it is still a gift freely given in an attempt to help that student. If now that student is demanding mercy, I can not give it because it is not freely given and would corrupt justice.

However, if I truly believe that I am standing my ground for the sake of the student as well as the integrity of my profession, then I am blessed no matter how the student misuses my gift. If no one ever acknowledges that I did the right thing and some people rally against me because of my stand, I will still be blessed because I didn’t allow others to pervert my deep sense of justice.

I will continue to seek justice by upholding established policies and procedures, to fight for what is right, and I will continue to show mercy. Not because it is in my nature–it is not; not because my faith demands it–it does not. I show mercy out of gratitude–gratitude to the one whose unmerited favor has given me such a wonderful, abundant life.

Ronda J. Dalenberg: Sister Teacher

April 11, 2015April 11, 2015 / Katie Winkler / 2 Comments

My sister Ronda during her last summer trip with our extended family
Gulf of Mexico--August 2009

Four years ago my only sister died. She was my age now, 54, and for some reason, that makes this anniversary of her death especially painful for me. Until she had to retire early because of her illnesses, she worked for the federal government, Rural Housing, making low-interest loans so poor people could have a decent place to live. One day when I was visiting Alabama where she lived and worked, she drove me around to show some of the houses she helped build. She stopped in front of one that she was particularly proud of. It was a cute little brick home, but not just a little box like so many government houses I had seen. It had a large arched window in the front, white accents and other interesting features. She told me that the contractors she was working with now had found ways to make the houses unique but still keep the price low. “It doesn’t cost much to make a big difference in people’s lives,” she said.

Ronda loved science when she was in school and thought about being a veterinarian when she first started attending Auburn University, but she ended up getting her degree in Animal and Dairy Sciences. She thought when she was in school that she would end up managing some sort of barn or farm. She loved horses and dogs, especially, but no, she ended up working for the government making loans. When she first started working for the government, her department was called Farmers Home Administration. She needed to know about the economics of farming to assess lands, equipment and livestock when making loans, but things began to change and her main work at the end of her career was making home loans.

Ronda never seriously considered a teaching career. I remember that she tried to do some substituting at one time in her life and had a really bad time one day. She shook her head and said to me, “Why would you ever want to be a teacher?” Then we laughed at all the horrible things those little hellions did to her that day in the way people sometimes do when the bad times are over. I didn’t say anything to her then, but when I think about it now, I realize that my sister was one of the best teachers I ever had.

Ronda was the oldest and we used to tease her about how bossy she was. We compared her to Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip. She reveled in this comparison, holding her hand up to one of my brothers, saying, “I’ll give you five good reasons to quit that.” Then, one by one counting and curling her fingers to create a fist, just like Lucy famously did over and over in the Sunday funnies. She didn’t stop her bossiness when we became adults either. It used to infuriate me that she would dare to have an opinion about education and/or teaching when I was the professional educator, by golly! How could she tell me anything about education?

Things changed over time, of course. As I matured, enduring many successes and even more failures, I gained some of the humility that most acquire with time. There is one time in particular that Ronda made a comment about my teaching that ultimately changed my attitude about my career, even though at the time the comment stung like one of my Great Aunt Jane’s peach tree switches.

I was visiting my parents’ home where my sister was living. Her husband Donald is a truck driver, so he was gone a lot and her health was getting to the point that she didn’t want to live alone. As I often did, unfortunately, I was regaling the family about all my troublesome students, how they didn’t listen to directions and didn’t seem to care and how some were bilking the tax payers, just going to school to get a government check and on and on, ad nauseum. Ronda listened a long time and when I finally took a breath, she said, “You don’t sound like you like your students very much.”

I don’t remember what I said or did after that but I do remember that at first I was so angry at her. “How dare she?” “Doesn’t she know I was just blowing off steam?” But I couldn’t shake the feeling that my sister was right. It was then I knew I needed to go back to the reason I became a teacher in the first place–to help people be productive and find happiness in a job well-done–to help them lead better lives because of what they learned in my classes. How could I teach them effectively if I didn’t even like them? How could I care?

After that, I went back to teaching with a renewed sense of my students’ intrinsic worth. I began to look for the things I liked about my students–their humor, their love of life, their eagerness, their youthful spirits, their drive. I even found myself being somewhat amused, or at the least not angered, by their student-like failings–their procrastination and arrogance and rebellion. I know I’m a better teacher now because I decided that liking my students, enjoying them, makes me a better teacher.

I don’t know if Ronda ever knew in this life time what her simple observation did for me, but it is only one example of the way my sister has taught me to be a better teacher–and a better person. I think of her and I miss her all the time, but here on this fourth anniversary, the intense pain of her horrible death has been replaced with the joy of her life and what it meant to me and all those who have been blessed to have known her as wife, daughter, sister, cousin, friend, colleague, mentor and teacher.

More from the CAMPUS

March 11, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Another frustrating day, so another installment from my musical in progress CAMPUS–a Satire of Higher Education in Appalachia. This song is sung by the arch villain of the piece–Mr. Mediocrity. An actor friend living in Raleigh who did a reading there for me suggested I rename him Governor Mediocrity. I might just do that. Anyway, here it is, folks, me venting my spleen, yet again.

Bread and Circuses

By Katie Winkler

(from the musical CAMPUS)

I consider myself

A student of history

The Romans had power

That’s no mystery

But how did the elite

Keep their society replete

With ignorant masses and slave labor

Don’t forget the gladiators?

How did they keep them from starving

Or stop them from harping

About their miserable condition?

Do you know what the secret is?

I’ll tell you

Bread and Circuses

They certainly do have their purposes

Everything will be just fine

If you keep them wined and dined

With a little food and relaxation

They’ll be ripe for some taxation

So give them

Bread and Circuses

Just not too much

I consider myself

A student of psychology

I sure know my way

Around society

Just a few things that they need

Enough to go out once a week

We keep open all McDonald’s

And Cracker Barrel too

These schmucks will pay good money

For that kind of food.

The finer restaurants need not fear

The rabble go to Red Lobster just once a year

Just give them

Bread and Circuses

I’m sure that’s what the answer is

As long as we don’t discriminate

Denying advancement to every race

Enough bad food and home entertainment

Will keep the proper containment

So give them

Bread and Circuses

Only just enough

The secret to giving them satisfaction

Is lowering their expectations

This is the secret to our democracy

Let the rabble live long, long lives of mediocrity

Living on

Bread and Circuses

If you want to know where the power is

Then open up your eyes

It’s the people who fill them with lies

That there’s no hope for anything more

When you’re born southern and poor

Just give them

Bread and Circuses

Then look away,

Look away

Dixieland.

To Become a “Miracle Worker” Too

March 1, 2015March 2, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke in 1962’s “The Miracle Worker” by William Gibson When I was a young girl in the 60’s, I loved to watch old movies on Saturday afternoon. Some of these movies made a deep impact on me for one reason or another. I remember watching one of my first Shakespeare plays on Saturday morning–the 1935 version of Midsummer Night’s Dream starring Olivia de Havilland as Hermia, Andy Rooney as Puck and James Cagney, yes, James Cagney, as Bottom. I didn’t know any of those actors then, but I was fascinated by their actions. I barely understood a word of what was said but I was mesmerized by the words. So many movies during those halcyon days, when my viewing choices may have been fewer but have rarely been better, helped form my love not only of film but also of story telling and the theater, psychology and human development, justice and mercy–movies like Citizen Kane and Rebecca, Stage Door and All about Eve, To Kill a Mockingbird and 12 Angry Men.

However, there is one movie that told a story which stands out above the rest in my mind, a story that helped solidify a desire that was already growing in me before I was a decade old–the desire to teach. That story is told in the 1962 film The Miracle Worker, the story of Helen Keller and her teacher Annie Sullivan. I can’t remember a time I didn’t want to be a teacher, but watching Annie struggle to teach Helen, to give some meaning to the child’s dark and silent life by giving her the gift of language and in return seeing her own life change from dark to light, caused the stirrings of desire to leap into a consuming passion.

I was reminded yesterday of this great story and its impact on my career choice when I went to see our local community theater’s production of William Gibson’s play. I’ve seen it several times over the years and the movie many times, but something about the intimacy of the small theater and the fine acting by my friend who was playing Annie and another friend’s young daughter who played Helen, brought back the force the story and its impact on my life in a way I hadn’t felt in many years. This time, however, I have been a teacher for thirty years, a bit jaded about my profession, especially these days, especially in North Carolina, but watching Helen’s face at the water pump as the water flows over her hands and she finally understands what words are, seeing Annie’s face when Helen comes to her with her new found knowledge and signs that special word “teacher” renewed my love of teaching.

One passage in particular especially rang true to me last night. In the scene Annie is discouraged because she has brought Helen to the threshold of understanding language, has struggled mightily to bring her there, but words are still just a finger play to Helen and time is running out. Annie looks down at the deaf, blind and mute child with such yearning and says these words:

I wanted to teach you—oh, everything the earth is full of, Helen, everything on it that’s ours for a wink and it’s gone, and what we are on it, the—light we bring to it and leave behind in—words, why, you can see five thousand years back in a light of words, everything we feel, think, know—and share, in words, so not a soul is in darkness, or done with, even in the grave. And I know, I know, one word and I can—put the world in your hand—and whatever it is to me, I won’t take less!

Is it any wonder that even way back when I was not much older than Helen was that day the world opened up to her, that my world opened up to me? That day I knew what I wanted to do–help people understand the beauty and power of words. When I got a little older, one of the first biographies I read was Helen Keller’s autobiography, “The Story of My Life.” I chose that book because I had seen the movie and been so intrigued by Annie Sullivan and how it must feel to teach a child. Reading the story from Helen’s perspective fueled my passion for teaching. In this passage Helen describes that day at the water pump:

I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten–a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.*

I left the well-house eager to learn. Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me. On entering the door I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to the hearth and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them together. Then my eyes filled with tears; for I realized what I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow.

I learned a great many new words that day. I do not remember what they all were; but I do know that mother, father, sister, teacher were among them–words that were to make the world blossom for me, “like Aaron’s rod, with flowers.” It would have been difficult to find a happier child than I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful day and lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time longed for a new day to come.

Some people struggle to know what to do with their lives, to find themselves, but I knew long ago as a little girl watching TV on a Saturday afternoon, when I could have been outside playing, that some day I would be a teacher. As much as I have wanted to escape my destiny over the years, it’s clear that I am where I belong, doing what I was born to do. What William Wordsworth said is true, “The child is father of the man.”

Mother of the woman, too.

Teaching Online–I Think I Like It

February 18, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Kind of Fun to Teach Online

When I first started teaching online I found distance learning far inferior to traditional. Teaching has always been so interactive for me, so I didn’t see how I could capture the same dynamic in an online environment. I have found that I was absolutely right. The two environments are vastly different and require distinct teaching styles. However, that does not mean teaching online can not be as effective as teaching in the traditional classroom, and at times, I find online classes to be the better way to teach literature.

Of course, I have been teaching 200-level literature classes online for quite a few years and have had the freedom to develop my courses the way I see fit. I also am blessed at my college with an incredible distance learning support staff that have helped me solve problems and supplied me with the technological skills I need to continue improving my classes and lessening my grading load.

Earlier this semester, I presented a session on teaching 200-level courses online at the North Carolina Community College’s annual conference in Raleigh and thought I would share some of the information I presented there:

Course Structure

Provide Students with Resources, including
Examples, in Folders
Number Assignments
Provide Due Dates in Multiple Places
Post a welcome Letter and/or Video
Use multiple Avenues of Communication

Assignments–Combine Traditional and Non-Traditional

Traditional

Lecture (video or audio taped)
Class Discussion (through Discussion Forums, On-line Chats and Skype)
Written assignments (reader responses, essay tests, literary analysis

Non-Traditional

On-line Reading Quizzes
Kaltura Assignments
Audio/Video Response
SCROM Packages
Online Presentations

Some of My Favorite Assignments

Creative Projects
- Rewriting a scene from Beowulf using a different perspective
- Writing a Japanese Chain Poem
- Writing a poem in the style of one of the Romantic Poets
Film and Video
- Film Assignments—Watching a Modern British Film
- Youtube videos
  - Resources
  - Assignments
Kaltura Assignments (For Moodle Users)
- Lectures
- Directions
Travel Project–My All-Time Favorite
- $10,000 imaginary dollars to spend on the trip
  of a lifetime!!!
- 20% of the grade in this course
- Choose author and/or work to research
- Annotated Bibliography
  - Scholarly
  - Related to author, work and countries associated with both
  - Should not be purely biographical
  - Research the places in the work, too
- Travel Itinerary Presentation
  - Powerpoint or some other software
  - post on Travel Project Forum for all students to see 1
  - 14-day itinerary of a literary tour
  - I provide detailed examples of the annotated bibliography and the presentation.

If you would like more information about any of the above information, just contact me here at “Hey, Mrs. Winkler!” I’ll be glad to share.

On my next blog, I’ll discuss some advanced grading methods I use online to help with the heavy grading load that can be generated when teaching upper level online classes

Today Is What It’s All About

February 7, 2015February 8, 2015 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Yesterday, I was discouraged, but today is a new day. Why? I went to rehearsal of my college’s new play. We’re performing a stage version of the movie Clue that is based on the old sleuthing board game so many of us know and love. The movie has an all-star cast, including the late great Eileen Brennan, Tim Curry (of Rocky Horror Picture Show fame), the fabulous Madeline Kahn, Christopher Lloyd, Michael McKean, Martin Mull and Lesley Ann Warren.

At auditions, there were so many fine actors that our director, head of the drama department, decided to have understudies for some of the roles, include a “household staff” that will serve as entertainment between scenes and then get their shot at the big roles during two additional shows. Great idea, and it’s what directors who are primarily good educators at community colleges do–make their lives much more complicated for the sake of their students as well as the community members who are also significant stake holders in their college.

Today’s rehearsal reflects what community colleges are all about–play production students coming early and staying late to work on the set, more seasoned actors helping the newer ones, agreeing with the director without argument, offering suggestions, happy to have them accepted or not, the director’s quick and non-embarrassing corrections when new actors make mistakes, each actor creating a story for his or her character, an occasional harmless joke, the joys of physical humor leading to laughter and a true knowledge of an art form that only comes with actually getting up and doing it.

This is educational theater and the essence of what liberal arts is all about–following directions, creative problem-solving, collaborating and creating. I’m so glad to once again be a part of it.

Also, today–my positive day–I want to give a shout out to the colleagues, support staff, administrators and students who helped me so much during this past discouraging week. I complain sometimes, but I truly just want to make things better for my fellow instructors and my students, especially my students. Nevertheless, I want to find more time to praise the people I work with who also have the welfare of all of our students foremost in their minds. I also appreciate those students and friends who have reached out to me this week, offering me respect and encouragement. Thanks, guys–you know who you are.

It Matters

February 6, 2015 / Katie Winkler / 1 Comment

Yes, dear student, it matters that you capitalize the personal pronoun “I” and that you use salutations in your e-mails. It matters that you refrain from keeping your cell phone on your desk and looking at it every few seconds during the lecture. It matters that you do not use the time I give you on the computer to write personal e-mails and post on facebook.

Yes, dear support staff member, it is important that you knock and ask permission to enter the room when I am conducting class, that you do not speak to me disrespectfully in front of my students when I question the timing of repairs on the classroom printer. It matters that you recognize the most important thing our college does is hold classes and that all classes are important, even, perhaps especially, developmental classes.

Yes, dear administrator, it matters that you allow me to explain my position before you summarily dismiss my request, that you do not raise your voice and speak to me in a derisive tone, but speak to me as a fellow educator, someone who has the best interest of students at heart.

Yes, dear me, it matters what you do, even when it isn’t acknowledged, even when you are treated unfairly, even though you aren’t perfect and make mistakes. What you do matters and it matters that you care so deeply. It matters