'F' for (Lack of) eFfort

'E' for effort. We've never cared for that phrase. We associate it with Rabbi S., our high-strung fifth-grade Yeshiva teacher. Any time someone would fail to achieve his (we were all boys) potential on a weekly Talmud or Hebrew grammar quiz, Rabbi S. would froth about the appalling lack of effort. We imagined the rebbe quaking over-caffeinatedly at his breakfast table, envisioning the lack of effort he was bound to confront that day.

Now a teacher, however, we appreciate his angst.

Recall our post from earlier this week, wherein we spoke of the final essay exam we administer in our class. Recall, also, that there is an official make-up exam--a second chance for those who failed or missed the exam the first time. The make-up exam was today.

The exam began promptly at 9:00, and students had three hours to compose a standard five-paragraph essay. YNSHC proctored the exam. At 9:15, one of our own students entered the classroom. A little late, sure, but not too bad: She still had two hours and forty-five minutes to write her essay. She began writing. Awhile later, she handed the essay in.

Well, maybe not "later": She handed in her essay at 9:41.

26 minutes.

Now, of course, SOME people could write a passing essay in 26 minutes. The Solipsist, for example, could pull it off. Of course, the Solipsist has two masters' degrees, has been writing for over twenty years and--oh, yes--teaches the class! He is, to be blunt, an exponentially better writer than any of the students sitting before him in the exam room. And, frankly, even he would have some difficulty writing the essay in 26 minutes.

We implored our student:

"Shorty"--her nom de nick--"are you sure you want to hand this in already?"

"Yeah, I'm done."

"But you've only been writing for 25 minutes."

"I know, but I did everything you told me to do. Can you read it?"

"No. If you hand it in, that's it. You can't redo it if I don't like it."

"Well, I did everything. I have an introduction, a thesis statement, paragraphs and a conclusion."

"OK, but is it the best work you can do? You have over two hours left to work on it."

"I know, but I think it's fine."

"You realize your whole grade depends on this?"

"I know."

"OK."

And she left. And guess what? Surprisingly enough, she actually FAILED!

Shorty is no anomaly. Every semester, we practically beg our students to take their time on this exam, to do the best they can. And every semester, a handful of students write for 20 -30 minutes and decide that they have produced a masterpiece of expository prose. Does it never occur to anyone that, if we instructors thought it only took 30 minutes to compose an essay, then we would only GIVE students 30 minutes to do it?

But of course it's not about that. It's about students caring less about their product than the teachers themselves. As a teacher, we find the hardest thing to do is to make people care. If a student would rather spend two hours doing--well, nothing overly important (or we're sure she would have mentioned it when we implored her to stay) than trying to ensure herself a passing grade, what can we do? Because the really sad thing here is that Shorty is not a bad student. We are fairly certain that, if she had taken the time to really write something, she would have produced a passing piece of work.

She did everything we told her to do? Afraid not. We told her not to leave.



Oh, PS: That student who came in and complained to us on Monday? She passed. Whew!