Apocalypse

Alright, so my use of that term is patently incorrect: apocalypse, as both of you who read the first few pages of my dissertation now know, means unveiling, not end-of-the-world scary-destruction-stuff: that's the popular or "demotic" sense, and that is the sense I mean to invoke here.

Two different kinds of course evaluation, one of which involved a committee of students leading a discussion of about 10 different points, and the other an online form that students were required to complete before they could get access to their final grades. Of course, half of them don't, and then they email the profs asking for the grades personally.

Then you have about twenty minutes (minor hyperbole) to mark the exams and submit the final grades. Following which you complete a course report for each course, including a description of your pedagogy, assessment procedures, and plans for revision, a statistical report, and an itemized gradesheet for each course. Oy veh.

Oh, and you can be called upon to proctor other people's exams, as well, people who may not necessarily be there themselves. So I had to supervise 7 exams in toto this term. Riddikerrus.

My experience with the first of these was interesting. I was part of a committee of proctors, each of us assigned to a quadrant of a major exam hall, where multiple sections of the same course were sitting for their standard exam. The course was in Arabic, the exam was in Arabic, the conversation was in Arabic: I was the only Englishman in the mix. One of the teachers was there, and he seemed to enjoy making unsolicited announcements ad alta voce. Established the precedent for Tyrrettical outbursts--from other faculty and students . . . in Arabic. He had several very loud conferences with other faculty, shared a few jokes, clowned around for students, and then bailed. Left me in a sinking ship full of chatty sailors.

I called another faculty member over to answer a question, and the committee chairman came along for the ride: he'd been clowning, too, but in what I can only describe as a Hyde-esque, bipolar reversal, he suddenly turned into a National Socialist schoolmarm, twisted sneer and everything. Started wrestling exams away from students and forcibly relocating them to other parts of the quadrant. So suddenly it wasn't okay to talk, I guess.

Interesting that none of my students exhibited these behaviors. They raised their hands very politely when they had questions, and whispered their queries appropriately. The brat to twit ratio is pretty high in this country: kids are kept out 'til all hours, and you can usually hear a tantrum in progress wherever you are. Too much sugar. Too much party. So sorry. No problem. Welcome.

So I figure that with their schizoid Arab profs, oscillating between totalitarian patriarch and Sideshow Bob, they must revert to spoiled brat syndrome. With me, the regression is milder and slower.

Off today to Global Village in Dubai: Riley has a combined youth activity to attend, and we're going to scope it out while he hangs with the Abu Dhabi crew. By the way, he was set apart as DQP yesterday.

Shout outs: Welcome back, Ahnos. We still don't know who you are!

ec: no guns.

Next time: Global Village and maybe Green Mubazzarah/Jebel Hafeet.