This morning I found the following jewel in my email:
"I know I am going to get a zero, although I wanted to get my topic reviewed if possible. I will turn in a hard copy in class on Monday."
No signature, no reference to a specific class, this was it.
Fortunately for this particular student, I read a lot of Miss Marple mysteries when I was a kid, and that combined with my students' habits to assume I know every single one of them, their schedule, their life stories, as well as their personal idiosyncrasies ("you know I hate gmail!"), means that my power of induction are unsurpassed. Hence, based on his unique last name (which was actually part of his email address - excuse me while I pick myself off the floor), his reference to a class on Monday (which reduces the possible number of classes down to three), as well as his use of the phrase "my topic", made it very easy for me to determine that he was talking about the "write a paragraph about the topic you would like to research this semester" assignment that was due last week.
Admittedly, I admire this student's desire to receive feedback. He obviously realizes that without proper feedback, he'll have no idea whether the topic he's about to work with for the next thirteen weeks is any good or not. Although realistically he would have found out next week when he needed to turn in six peer-reviewed articles on said topic, and he might have received a terse, "don't think this topic is do-able in this time frame" or a "great topic!" note on his work, I can understand his desire to be on top of his stuff.
So that leaves me with the $64,000 question: Why did said student not turn in his work on time? I looked at his topic, and the one-sentence topic could not have taken more than about a second of his precious time. Unless he was in the hospital or in prison, there is no reason why he could have not sent this email a week earlier. Even if he was off campus remembering the death of his beloved guinnea pig Mr. Twinkles, or helping his best friend's cousin's girlfriend move across the state, WiFi is pretty much omnipresent, and thus the topic could have been sent, on time, with the click of a button.
Unless, of course, unless said student is not as academically inclined as he'd like me to believe.
Hm.
Now there's a thought.
So, after four-and-a-half-years of dealing with late work, dead guinneapigs, moving cousins, broken parole, tough judges, and mysterious illnesses, all of which have led to me losing sleep, losing time with my family, and spending way too much energy trying to fix students' problems or mistakes, this is my standard answer to such requests:
"Good morning (student name),
Thank you for your email. Although I appreciate you turning in a topic, I set deadlines so I have time to grade everyone's work. Work turned in after the deadline will thus not be graded.
Thank you,
Dr. D"
Yes, there's not a lot of carebear-stare-unicorns-rainbows-flowers-candy-land about that response, but you know what, it's midterms, I'm swamped, and you're a grown-up.
So just deal.
2 comments:
Applause! Yeah! I'd do the same.
Well, the real world does not deal well with lateness either, so they better get used to it now.
The program where I work now is very strict about lateness. The students get weekly evaluations, and late work reflects on these. One student almost failed his whole class because of turning work in late a few times. He finally understood the consequences.
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