Notes by Rachael Wiley

Town Hall Meeting
Conducted by Cheryl Glenn, John Marsh and Paul Kellermann
4:30-6 p.m., Tuesday, April 24 in the Grucci Room.

Agenda

1. The class-size pilot study for next year that needs 10-20 English 015 instructors to participate by teaching at least two sections of English 015: one capped at 18 and the other at the traditional 24;
2. Expectations for teaching faculty (timeliness, syllabus, SRTEs, etc.); and
3. What we know and have learned from this year’s promotion process. Paul Kellerman will probably have some things to add.

Class Size Study

Cheryl will be running it during Fall 2018 semester

Grant proposal called “Penn State Writes”

• not about class size or workload; it’s all about the students & their experience as writers
• if we lower class size in the first-year writing class, it will change the quality of our students’ experience
• Cheryl proposed 20 instructors and 40 sections
  • Dean said she’d pay for half of funding if Cheryl doesn’t get the grant
  • So in fall, Cheryl needs 10 instructors to teach two sections of ENGL 15, one section with 24 students and one section with 18 students
    • It’s imperative that each section be given equal time (e.g., for every 3 hours spent on the 24-student section, 3 hours should be spent on the 18-person section)
    • These 20 sections will follow the same syllabus (with the same assignments)
    • Instructors must have SRTE scores over 5.00
  • Questionnaires will be administered at the beginning and end of the semester
    • Mid-semester assessment around the 4^th essay
  • Cheryl’s also looking for a program coordinator with research experience to replace Josephine Pirrone, who’s retiring
  • Ray Rosas (rdr30@psu.edu) will be the graduate coordinator; his interest is primarily in how class size affects underrepresented student populations and their retention rates

Expectations for Teaching Faculty

• SRTE scores over 5.00
  • For example, this set of SRTE scores was deemed “adequate” by the Dean:

• Hand essays back in a timely manner
  • Cheryl heard from 20 students this year (from about 5 different sections) with complaints that essays weren’t handed back until the end of the semester and provided no comments other than a grade
• Follow a syllabus that’s been approved by PWR

Promotion Process

8 people assembled dossiers this year; all were successfully promoted

Here’s what we’ve learned:

• SRTEs do matter
  • Cheryl understands SRTEs are imperfect, that the scores are lower since we’ve moved to an electronic system, etc.
  • Scores below 5.00 are unsatisfactory
  • For those faculty whose scores have been low and who haven’t applied for promotion because of low SRTE scores, John Marsh suggested waiting a year or two to improve your scores before applying for promotion
• Grades also affect SRTEs
  • Cheryl has noticed a pattern in lower SRTEs and lower course GPAs
  • She thinks some lecturers might be grading too harshly, particularly when there’s been a pattern of comments about harsh grading that’s consistent with SRTE scores lower than 5.00
• Student complaints do matter when Cheryl and John write their letters (see Expectations for Teaching Faculty above)
• Teaching observations
  • Bland evaluation letters do not help
  • Arrange observations early in the semester
  • Don’t ask a close friend
  • Ask your observer to write a really frank letter
  • Then ask them to come observe again later in the semester and write another letter, in which you have an opportunity to improve based on the criticism
    • If this set of letters is accompanied by a rise in SRTEs, Cheryl says, “You’re there!”
  • The NTLFAC (formerly LAC) will invite SITE to offer a workshop in the fall on how to write a strong teaching observation
    • Cheryl can then provide a list of trained observers
    • Cheryl can also provide a list of faculty who’ve taken the 602 for each of the 202s
  • Claire Bourne, Steele Nowlin, and Garrett Sullivan will be invited to offer a workshop on teaching philosophies in the fall
  • John Marsh urged everyone to start gathering teaching observation letters, even though the department won’t notify promotion candidates if they’ll be put forward—he emphasized it’s better to have more information than not enough
    • Bear in mind, the evaluations submitted in the promotion dossier must be conducted by someone at a higher rank than your current rank
  • Paul Kellermann emphasized that teaching was the central focus of the promotion review committee—service and research were icing on the cake, but the focus was on candidates’ teaching

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Take a moment to congratulate the winners of the 2018 Excellence in Teaching Awards:

Master of Arts Excellence in Teaching Award
Walter Faro

BA/MA Excellence in Teaching Award
Abigail Kennedy

 PhD Excellence in Teaching Award
Yi-Tang Chang

Lecturer Excellence in Teaching Award
Kathryn Rosenberg

Online Teaching Excellence in Teaching Award
Alex Sibo

Nancy Lowe Award in Writing and Rhetoric
Jan Babcock

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Check out Alison Condie Jaenicke’s latest non-fiction publication.

Tom Thumb of Crystal City by Alison Condie Jaenicke

By Faith Tibbetts McDonald

Recently, I met with a representative of a university program designed to promote engaged scholarship. She was looking for opportunities to showcase teaching sessions in which a professor lectures less and facilitates discussions and activities more. This practice, she said, increases student learning. She angled for an invitation to my class to demonstrate. She pitched the session as an adventure that transforms learning.  Of course, she was exceedingly careful not to indicate that anyone’s teaching—certainly not mine—actually required transformation.

She’d targeted the right instructor. I’ll try anything that promises to boost college students’ learning. When I learned of Prezi, touted as PowerPoint on steroids, I mastered Prezi. A few years ago, I participated in an I-pads-for-college-instructors’-classroom-use pilot. Carrying an I-pad, I roamed the room, approaching and talking with students, while easily and instantly making changes to the on-screen display which was projected at the front of the room.

One app enabled students to text comments which appeared on screen. We used the app for a brainstorming session. The classroom surged with high tech, stimulating, real-time, professor-student interaction—learning on steroids! Except for the crude potty remarks—in bold–which appeared on screen for everyone to read and prompted snickers. I couldn’t positively identify the author. I had strong suspicions.

Last spring, I more successfully brought my puppy to class—a huge hit with everyone, except an allergic, annoyed math major.

Despite the risk that new teaching approaches might not succeed, I’m always willing to try them. I want to teach on the cutting edge.  I’m nervous about becoming a teaching leftover like the overhead projectors that stand on wheeled carts in the corners of our classrooms.

I long to teach in a way that matters to students.

The competition is daunting. Seventeen years ago, when I started teaching, I vied with traditional distractions like daydreaming, doodling and note passing. These days, I compete—sometimes unsuccessfully—with the lure of instant Internet access via cellphone. The knowledge I share in class is not as extensive or as easily tweaked to accommodate a student’s tastes and attention span as Google’s extensive database. I try to connect, but the instructor-student classroom connection pales next to the virtual, popular, flexible appeal of Facebook. Of course, I include visuals to clarify and add impact to lectures, but they lack the exclusive, urgent quality of Snapchat.

So I offered the engaged scholarship initiative spokeswoman a qualified invitation: Come! But don’t be too exciting. After all, the students will be stuck with me for the rest of the semester.

But I felt a little smug, too.

In our brief meeting, when she requested the invitation to share in the class session, I’d gained a new perspective. My teaching weaknesses had been transformed into cutting edge teaching strengths.

See, I’m an introvert who loves to write. I obtained a university teaching position years ago to supplement my writing income, so I could help my own college age kids with college expenses.

I signed on to teach writing classes, not realizing I’d encounter so much pressure to lecture, and, well, entertain. Even in writing classes, where writing workshops and peer editing sessions are common, I felt pushed into the spotlight. My mentor advised me to spend more time perched behind the podium speaking. When, as part of my professional development, I observed colleagues, I witnessed lectures. When I included too many activities in a session, students commented on SRTEs: more lectures would improve this class.

So I marshalled my resources and began to fake extrovert traits like enjoying the spotlight and comfortably talking to large groups of people.

When my watch read time to start class, I’d deliberately move to the room’s front and center to begin my scripted performance. I’d share an introductory story. A writing principle. I’d recite examples of the writing principle applied.

At first, I worried I wouldn’t perform adequately. Then I made a few mistakes. I spilled coffee down the front of my white, silk blouse. Class went on.

I misspoke more often than I’ll actually admit. Once, I started a lecture by greeting a student in front of the whole class. Warmly, I said: I feel like I know you from somewhere. As I spoke, I realized I knew him because his picture had been plastered on the front page of the local paper for weeks in a row—legal issues. Something to do with ill-considered text messages and a brawl. I apologized adamantly: I didn’t mean to draw attention to your legal problems. Which I instantly realized drew more attention to his legal problems. Probably a FERPA violation. Why not list his charges on the board and punctuate them with a squad of exclamation marks? Why not just start over and mention that I’d noticed his sports-related fame. Why open my mouth in the first place?

Class went on.

I gave lectures filled with content and humor and good examples. Some kids jotted notes. Their action fueled the torrent of words.

But after 10, maybe 15, minutes, I’d notice someone yawning, nodding off or texting, and I’d think: I don’t blame him. I’m tired of the sound of my voice.

I recalled a silly game that I played as a kid. I’d recite a word over and over. Maybe the name of the elementary school I attended: Galbraith. I’d say, “Galbraith.” At first, the word, rich with meaning, prompted a kaleidoscope of memories. My first grade class where I learned to read, but more vividly recall the day I sat stock-still, clutching my pencil, afraid to move because the stern teacher had declared that the next student to drop a pencil that clattered and echoed in the room would be punished.  “Galbraith.” Turn to memories of my warm second grade teacher, Miss Charcoal, with her dark brown hair piled high on her head. I earned a demerit for chewing on my pencil. “Galbraith.” I could see the playground on a frigid day and my tongue stuck to the side of a frosty slide. “Galbraith.”  

However, as I repeated the combination of sounds, meaning turned to nonsense. “Galbraith” became garble rolling off my tongue.

In the same way, in the college classroom, after I’d lectured awhile, my words turned to jumble.

When I looked to the audience to contradict this idea, I saw kids doodling, heads drooping, eyes closing, and students surreptitiously completing homework for other classes.

So I tried to keep their attention by adding some humor.  I quickly learned that college students don’t recognize self-deprecating humor. If, gesturing to the overhead projector in the corner, I said something like, “I’m almost as dated as that projector and the writing advice I offer is even more ancient; however, it’s stood the test of time and here’s how you can apply it today.” Students would write in their end of semester ratings: this professor is out of date. She admitted that she’s as irrelevant as an overhead projector.

Prefacing self-deprecating humor with a comment like, “Here’s a bit of self-deprecating humor.” Well, that doesn’t work, either.

And, for me, lecturing is just so tiring.

I could’ve started guzzling energy drinks, but I opted to sneak (just a few) activities into my classes. I worked with stealth and didn’t let on—to anyone—that I was transforming the classroom. Honestly, I didn’t know I was transforming the classroom. I was surviving.

Of course, classrooms filled with active students bring challenges. Student responses are unpredictable. Once, in a creative writing class, I said, “You are in the right place at the right time. But prepare to share about a time you were in the wrong place at a wrong time.” A girl started sobbing. I caught her eye and discretely mouthed, “What’s wrong?” She wailed, “You said to write about a time I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This class is it for me.”

When I ask students to get out of their seats, find a classmate they haven’t met before and work on revising a message. They resist, “Why do we have to get out of our seats?”

Occasionally, I have presented a communication quandary to resolve and an outspoken student has confidently voiced a ludicrous solution. Contradicting an outspoken student who has volunteered an outlandish response never contributes to positive classroom dynamics for me. I’ve yet to master the delicate maneuver of contradicting a student before an audience of his peers.

But despite the challenges, I love a session packed with activities. I enjoy the buzz of students chatting in groups of two or three. I recognize words that rise to the surface. I hear phrases that indicate students are engaged in meaningful discussions about the material I want them to master. I feel like I’ve spotted a shooting star.

I used to believe that guiding students through activities punctuated with a brief lecture was teaching in a way that camouflaged my weaknesses.  However, in my conversation with the engaged scholarship representative, I learned to think differently; I’m riding the new wave of engaged scholarship. I’m not trying new methods. I’m doing the same-old with a new attitude. I’ve stepped out of the spotlight and into a position of strength. Believing that my teaching methods are sound creates an expansive feeling of shiny newness in my heart. It might be called…transformation. Or, at least, some breathing room in which to teach before I join the overhead projector on the side of the room.

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By Amanda Passmore-Ott

Terrace Mountain Trail

Trough Creek State Park, PA

February, 2018

Historically, I’ve delivered my adventures to you all through lyric narrative; however, my academic “area of expertise” is actually poetry (I hold an MFA in Poetry from Vermont College). I’m currently working on a manuscript tentatively titled, “Human Wilderness.” The poems, thematically, focus on the juxtaposition of a beautiful and, seemingly cruel, indifferent natural world and the human condition.  I thought I would change things up a bit and share a poem inspired by a recent hike. This poem is likely to change because it is so recent… a true first draft!

Raystown lake is a haven for bald eagles and they tend to return (or become more visibly active) to nesting sites late February to early March. Several weeks ago a storm rolled in from the south, catching us mid-hike on Terrace Mountain Trail. We decided to hike near the lake in hopes of spotting eagles and were lucky enough to see eight eagles: two mature and six juveniles. Mature eagles are easy to spot by the tell-tale signs of white head and tail feathers. Juveniles, on the other hand, are almost entirely a deep golden brown. This trail (TMT) runs roughly 27 miles along and above the lake.

The section we hiked for this adventure begins in Trough Creek State Park. Enter the main park entrance and drive all the way back to the closed gate (the last picnic/recreation area within the gorge area of the park). Walk to the creek beyond the pavilions and cross the wooden bridge. Hang a right and walk about a quarter mile. There are two trails which branch off at this point—the TMT is the bottom trail that stays right and hugs closer to the shoreline. There are, of course, many access points for the TMT, two of which are on the park map (http://www.dcnr.pa.gov/StateParks/FindAPark/TroughCreekStatePark/Pages/Hiking.aspx). Unfortunately, all the eagles were too far away or in flight to show up well enough on film. But, as usual, I’ve included a few photos of our hike.

 Chasing Eagles

 Three juvenile bald eagles balance
inches from the ledge where water meets
thin ice. Beaks part as if waiting

for sustenance from parents long moved on
as seagulls squawk in whorls
overhead. I catch myself,

a tautness of Adam’s apple against
nature’s indifference.
This damn sentimentality

creeps up gullet and nothing to swallow
it down. One by one, wings
expand towards updrafts. Our feet

trek paths on banks of bloated
rivers, always seeking a glimpse
of white feathers beyond bare branches

where snow fogs mountain summits.
We ask ourselves if it is time to turn back
but keep following blue blazes deeper

and higher up trail. Loneliness,
they say, is addictive. We hold
breath with the forest, a hush

preceding the blizzard angling
across Raystown Lake. A squirrel
leaps from branch to branch, vanishes

on the north face of birch. No wings
shadow on the periphery. All things
hunker down and, we too,

retrace our steps as snow-melt
drenches our bones, an exquisite pain
shed beyond the doors of our Jeep.

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

On the Trail

By Amanda Passmore-Ott

Cliffs of Moher

Ireland, County Clare

July 2017

Author’s Note:

One of the reasons I started this work-life balance column was because many colleagues are intrigued by my “second” life of music and hiking. Honestly, I’m just the least academic Academic I know. Obviously, I write, but not on a regular basis (no rising with the dawn every morning to get my hour of writing in before the day begins); I haven’t been to a conference in years; and I haven’t really written critically, aside from student feedback on essay drafts, in even longer. I do, however, hike every weekend that I can and I am a working musician as fiddler in the Celtic Rock band, Full Kilt (https://fullkilt.weebly.com/). Our band has been together now for 11 years and we were lucky enough to go on a mini tour in Ireland over this past summer…we even took 80 people (two busloads) with us through Epic Journeys LLC based out of Johnstown, PA. Although we were there as both hosts and performers, I had to find time for some hiking. I was able to hike quite a bit in our “down time” (often missing meals to get my hike on!): urban hiking in Dublin (about 8-9 miles), a small hike at Malin Head (about 1 mile), and two longer hikes on the Red Trail near Giant’s Causeway and the cliff top trail at Cliffs of Moher (each about 5 miles). For the sake of this column, I limited this edition to just the Cliffs of Moher as the most iconic trail/landmark (but I did add in a few photos of the other trails/hikes to make up for the lack of verbiage).

***

One might expect such an iconic tourist landmark as Cliffs of Moher to echo the tourist traps of America: brazen billboards every 100 yards saying “Cliffs of Moher 1 mile ahead on the left” and counting down, kitschy leprechauns peeking out behind fences and boulders, and a gaudy, sprawling gift shop of souvenirs with neon signage (okay, there is a souvenir shop and visitor center; however, it is actually built into the hillside to resemble an ancient large burial mound and blends in with surrounding “rolling hills of green and fences made of stone.”).  The road in feels much as any other backcountry road throughout Ireland: narrow, often hemmed in by stone fenced fields of spray-painted sheep (the farmers mark their sheep to identify them as their own), and sweeping vistas dotted with quaint farmsteads and cottages. Not until the buses pull into the parking area does one realize the popularity of these Irish sea cliffs. As 80 people descend the bus steps and make their way either to the visitor center or Brian Boru’s tower and paved overlook, my eyes are drawn to the right where the trailhead begins, and further to where most people stop and turn back—beyond is where my booted feet would carry me (if you’ve been reading these columns for a while, you might notice that I have an aversion to crowds and hike for the solitude; in fact, our Irish tour folks would often joke how I rarely took a photo with a person, aside from myself, in frame).

Before the cliff trailhead, I paused along the stone wall overlooking the popular photo-op of a cleft cave carved from the relentless bombardment of waves against a fault in the cliff face. One might recognize this cave entrance from the Harry Potter movie, The Half Blood Prince, when Dumbledore takes Harry to destroy a locket Horcrux. But, I’ve been here before about six years earlier and I only have two hours to complete my hike. The trail head begins to the right if one is looking out to sea, and signs warn hikers of crumbling cliff ledges and to stay on the marked trail (I have already decided I’m breaking that rule, within reason, once I’m beyond the boundaries of the tourist area and there are no longer men in slicker jackets herding folks back down into the sunken gravel trail boxed in by slabs of slate that don’t take advantage of the scenery). In all seriousness, safety is an issue— up to ten people a year lose their footing or deliberately jump from the cliffs edge each year; it is possible to go off trail, but one still needs to use common sense and keep a good 5-10 feet between body and open space as you will not survive a fall. If you are not a seasoned hiker with proper hiking boots, you would do well to stick to the man-made boundaries. I climb the first small rise to the cliff tops and look for an opening on the marked trail where I might climb out and off-trail, which is about 50 feet past where most people stop with families for selfies or a quick picnic lunch. The twin of Brian Boru’s tower is not much more than a fuzzy knob perched on top of the end of the cliffs about 2.4 miles distant. The weather can change within minutes at Cliffs of Moher, which are located in county Clare on the western edge of Ireland and, thus, open to the mercy of the Atlantic. The distant tower is half cloaked in sea mist and in-coming rain clouds. I arrange my scarf over my head and push on, keeping well back from the ledges as the wind starts to steadily gust.

In just 100 feet, the crowd thins out and I only pass the occasional hiker (and not a few cows on the other side of a wire fence to the left). I walk above the marked trail so that I can see in all directions, including down to the base of the cliffs where waves crest and roil and sea foam traces chaotic currents in deceivingly graceful whorls. Crumbling stone columns dot the coast, an echo of where the cliff’s edge once stood. I find myself wondering what old Neolithic ring forts now might lie on the ocean floor; what once watch towers, maybe made of wood rather than stone, stood sentinel on these shores. Although I am on a time schedule, I stop every 25 feet or so to etch this place into my mind’s eye and to snap a few photos. Because I am solo-hiking this trip, I’ve become quite adept at the close selfie while managing to capture at least some of the landscape backdrop. Knee high sea grasses and thick heather crowd the narrow track of dirt as I continue south towards my goal: the second watch tower. At times the trail rises so that the cliffs are no longer visible and gives the illusion of ending where earth meets sky. After one such crest, two slabs of slate lean inwards, creating a sort of gateway before opening up in to a wide expanse of bare dirt and rock dunes.

I find myself cringing at all the man-made cairns/stacked rocks… a sharp reminder that even a landscape formed millennia ago is not immune to the touch of man, as if we can’t help but take something so inherently beautiful and mold it into something of our own making. There are several people in this area and I resist the urge to frantically kick the cairns all down: my “take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints” philosophy fuels this fantasy. I don’t linger here. I seek the illusion of wild places and press past these stone monuments to ego. I round a bend and another rise in the trail and am pleasantly surprised by a small pebbled alcove protected by a slight curve in the cliff face. The ocean doesn’t seem so turbulent here and the water is almost Caribbean in hue. I look back over my shoulder to the now distant tower of Brian Boru: my feet have trekked further than I thought. I check my watch and increase my pace to the second tower looming larger with each step. I am almost jogging at this point in anxiety that I won’t reach it in time before I have to retrace my steps when I’m jolted out of focus by a deep-throated bellow. A heard of cows is only feet from me and the largest just charged the fence, dust kicking up as she skids to a halt and stamps her hoof in irritation. I notice that her belly is large and her udders swollen, but there is no sign of a calf. I’ve often heard a cow in need of a good milking can be quite cranky. I apologize to the herd before the last descent to the tower—I guess I’m not the only one annoyed by close proximity to human activity.

Once again, my feet have taken me further than most venture, and I have this landscape of “forty shades of green” all to myself (and the cows, of course). I take a moment to press myself into the spongy mounds of loam as the first raindrops ping off my cheeks. The visitor center hub and its crowd of tourists are but a nagging thought hidden somewhere beyond the shift of rain veil. A light fog has rolled in to this end of the cliffs and begins to fall over the face like some transient waterfall. Nervous that the trail might disappear into the fog (and me, with it), I decide to head back. I don’t get far when the weather changes again: behind me a cloud bank to rival the fabled mists of Avalon and ahead breaks of sun and dark cloud move as chess pieces across the sky. Maybe it’s the weather, but I’m surprised that I don’t encounter anyone until I’m almost back to the main viewing areas above the parking lot and visitor center: a meandering 2 miles. These sea cliffs are some of the highest in the world and the trail is one of the most breathtaking treks I’ve ever encountered. What draws some feet into a landscape like moths to flame while others stand tethered together like so many flies stuck on film? Maybe one day I’ll trek so far that turning back won’t be an option; today, a nice coddiwomple on the western edge of Ireland will do.

Associate Teaching Professor Liz Holtzinger has extended her teaching arm by serving as the Creative and Editorial Director of Through Wolf’s Eyes (TWE).

TWE is home to contemporary content for anyone seeking a fresh perspective on aging and inter-generational connection. Writers of the site, many of whom are interns from the College of Liberal Arts and the College of Communications, tackle tough questions and offer readers helpful tips and resources.

TWE Founder and Penn State Alum Greg Wolf writes, “After thirty years of running businesses, my passion is now a business of helping people, mostly older people, realize their potential for a life full of joy, purpose, and relevance.”

Photo by Priss Enriquez on Unsplash

Editor’s Note:  These notes reference several handouts on topics including various approaches to peer review, effective rubric design and more.  For copies of these handouts and descriptions of the assignments being used in the 2018 602 for English 15, please contact the PWR office.

Town Hall Meeting
Notes by Rachel Wiley
November 29 at 4-5pm
Grucci Room

Agenda:

1. New College of Liberal Arts Academic Integrity policy,
2. New policy on required assignments for English 15 and 30,
3. Brief overview/preview of what makes for a good rubric, and
4. Brief report by Greg and Paul on revisions to the governance document.

Plagiarism & Academic Integrity Policy

• Report to College of Liberal Arts Office of Academic Integrity
• In January/February they will launch a new website for reporting

Change in Number of Formal Assignments in English 15

• In 602, Cheryl and the PWR Graduate Assistants have developed 4 different peer review response tactics that have been generative (Cheryl provided them to those in the meeting today; email her for a copy)
• It’s important that students learn how to read someone else’s writing and care about someone else’s writing
• They’ve also developed a new rubric for how to grade peer review responses (email Cheryl for this)
• And a new set of percentages and new syllabus (email Cheryl for this) for Spring 2018
  • Assignment 1: Rhetorical Analysis
  • Assignment 2: Evaluation Argument
  • Assignment 3: Proposal Argument
  • Assignment 4: Narrative Video
    • This is now the only multi-modal assignment
  • Assignment 5: Four Peer-Review Responses to the preceding assignments
  • Assignment 6: Short Responses
  • Participation Grade

Rubrics

• Good Rubrics
  • Articulate our goals for the course
    • Cheryl distributed General Education Writing and Speaking (GWS) Course Criteria (email Cheryl for this)
      • Rhetorical knowledge
      • Capacities in critical thinking, reading, listening, and generating ideas
      • Proficiency in composing processes
      • Knowledge of communication conventions
    • Align with grading standards for the course
      • Cheryl distributed the English Department’s Program in Writing and Rhetoric Grading Standards
    • Meet the criteria for each assignment
    • Gather information that helps students improve
  • Minimal rubrics vs. full rubrics

• Additionally, good rubrics
  • Are shared (and maybe developed) with the students before they begin the assignment and
  • Have interrater reliability
• Cheryl distributed a sample full rubric (email Cheryl for this)

Governance Document Changes

• Mark charged an ad-hoc committee with updating the department’s Governance Document to reflect the new titles for non-tenure line faculty, as well as the new requirements for promotion process
• In addition to changing nomenclature surrounding title changes, committee has been working on two main priorities:
  • Make promotion process more transparent
    • Committee is working on firming up a calendar
    • Procedure / screening process for putting people forward for promotion is still being worked out (whether committee puts people forward or whether people can put themselves forward)
  • Make criteria for promotion more available
    • Teaching accomplishments
    • Service component
      • There aren’t enough opportunities for lecturers to do service
      • Committee—and LAC—are actively working to create more service opportunities
    • Peer evaluation
      • Doc. committee is working on building a regular schedule for evaluation (through PWR)
    • There was some talk about moving evaluations of potential non-tenure line promotions into the department’s faculty personnel committee; however, it’s remaining in the department’s Lecturer Review Committee (now called the Non-Tenure Line Review Committee)
    • There’s also been talk about creating a position for a non-tenure line faculty member on the department’s administrative committee (which consists of all the program heads)

Congratulations (again!) to Paul Kellermann, Steele Nowlin and Lorena Waselinko, who were recently promoted to the rank of Teaching Professor of English!

We look forward to the possibility of more promotions this spring.

Featured image by:
Ezra Jeffrey