In these cases, under the horrific pressure I've mentioned earlier, they have no time to think over what they sould express, and so, usually, as I have gently mentioned above, these are the things that usually happen when a desperate student starts to speak:
- The question has already been answered - multiple times - but they didn't notice.
- They intend what they have to say to be funny, but it isn't. By far not.
- What makes what they have to say funny is that they are serious about the whole thing.
- As a whole, the question has no connection whatsoever to reality as we know it.
The lovechild of the latter two has manifested before my very eyes multiple times. This is nothing other than finger-pointing at other groups, as a form of professional folk art. In the frame of this, I have heard sentences like "the pass level is 60%?!? But it's only 50 in the other group!". But not even for a moment should you think the stakes cannot be raised further! No, no, that would be really irresponsible and silly thing to do! Pointing at simultaneous groups will soon be degraded to the toy of big babies, the real professionals refer to previous groups (yes, the premonition is correct, to those previous groups in which they've already been in the given subject), somehow like this: "But it wasn't this way last year!".
Sticking to the theme of raising the stakes, I have to state that all of the above would be alright, as you know, words fly away, someone can blat out anything being all confused, it can happen to anyone, and so on. As for written tokens, you would really demand a little self-assessment, a little self-discipline. Well, it seems like this has become luxury. In most cases, besides the above mentioned problems, which also appear on the same level in the correspondence with students as in oral communication, in my experience, they cannot manage to pay attention to anything at all.
So, instead of composing their little drafts which will end up in my mail account with exhaustive work - as after all, as usual, the battle is fought for a signature and extra points - as if they were working on their Christmas wish lists, similar to this:
rather something like this is typical:
Many lose trust right at the beginning, as they cannot address me properly. Actually, all I want is to be addressed somehow, and if we end up with one of the formulas (watch out, this is a weighted track, there are multiple possible ways, formal or informal, boohoo...), then stick with it.
So, no matter how much I try, I cannot be head over heels when a letter starts out with "Respect!". And after this start, asking what kind of questions there will be in the retake test? Whether it will be like the original test. Well, will it? No, no way, now you'll have to do origami, seriously, and if you cannot fold a perfect swan-riding-monkey from the test sheet, then there's no signature...
One of my favourite phenomena is when the dear student engages in the following, deep and meaningful interaction with me throughout the whole semester: "Hello!".
And then, when it turns out that they have just a few points, they start composing the letter. The letter, which will surely cause my heart to break, and covered in my flowing tears, I'll lighten their dark fate with repentance, overwhelming them with various kinds of extra points and a range of supplementary tests, I might even tell them the tasks (or I'll just modify the parameters, as s appropriate...). However, such a letter should be really serious and elevated, so addressing me can only be done by my full name, with the appendix of Sir or Dear Teacher, beginning with capitals. This is how in a matter of minutes, I became Dear Teacher from the guy who keeps on yapping about something that cannot really be heard from Facebook, at the same time every week. Great.
So, we cannot separate ourselves from the topics that'll maybe outplace everythig else from the domain of communication until the end of time: whether there'll be a supplementary test, how will it be, and if it will be somehow, why wouldn't it be somehow else, and if there won't be one, why won't there be one.
There are also types that are just loosely connected to these, but the essence of them is always the same. The surprised letter, and the inquisitive letter. They both boil down to the same things, it's only the wording, the dressing that's different. The former is covered in sweet glaze, the facade of self-criticism, but the latter asks the same questions without any coverage: "to be honest, I didn't give a damn about the requirements*, but please, let me pass the subject!".
* by this, I mean the written requirements of the subject, and the requirements for basic human communication one can demand
It can be seen that besides the theme, their origin is the same as well.The negligance they phrase their demands with.
In the surprised group, customs are that they don't care about the weight of their actions (or inactions). It has happened to me that I wrote up 15 abscences of a student, as it should be done, and I had already resigned to the fact that I won't get to meet them ever in my life. Then, an email arrived on 29th January (!) that they've already passed the exam, but their mark could not be written in as they have no signature. As allegedly, they've sent me a letter back in the day, that they'll attend the classes in another group, it had all been arranged, but I didn't reply, maybe I didn't even receive it. I really did not receive it. So I noted the missed classes from week to week.
Oh my God, didn't they think about that I might not have received it during the semester? Did't it hit them that there's a note in the educational system saying "signature denied"? I don't even dare to think that they might have looked for me in person. Oh, what am I thinking!
Oh well, no problem, whatever happened (or mostly didn't happen), they stoically believed that they're entitled for this, as after all, they've met the requirements of the subject. Just in another place, about which they forgot to notify me. For half a year!
Whereas in the inquisitive group, customs are that actually, they are surprised as well, but agressively. "How come I didn't succeed?", and so on. It happens from time to time that there's one overall minimum score for multiple tests, so the points can be collected throughout the semester. This kind of thing just magnetizes inquisitive students, as in these cases, they have an irresistible urge to calculate exactly how many tasks they have to do on the last test to pass. Hm, hm, I need this many points, than it is this many that I do, because I know it. But they don't know it. And afterwards, they come up with "I want to inquire about which task I managed to mess up (I only got half a point for one of them)".
By translating this into standard English, this could as well be bitterness, which they feel over not succeeding in the perfect implementation of their devilish masterplan to acquire the signature, but I have a feeling that this is rather about a demand for reasons that have to manifest right here, right now about why the point for the given task has been halved. Well, because it's only halfway right, that's why. You shouldn't have done only as much tasks as much points you needed. But this I cannot write to them, so I have to explain in detail what went wrong. Just take a big breath. Inhale, exhale.
Incidentally, I answer stundents' letters in a dominant majority of the cases, and in this dominant majority, within hours. Even in these cases. Even if in turn, it would be good to reply sometimes that "Kids, please, learn how to write!"
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