Let’s add a few squares to this popular bingo card to represent the hybrid faculty meeting experience: In-person attendees roll their eyes when a Zoomer’s
I hear you already: “I barely survived this academic year. The last thing I want to think about is the next one!”
“Why does my edition of Hamlet read ‘O, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt,’” my student Jake asked me, “but yours has ‘O,
Would it be weird for someone to listen to graduation speeches while she commuted, cleaned, or walked her goldendoodle? To regularly read transcripts of them,
“Did you hang up my Hamlet drawing yet?” my 11-year-old daughter asked me. “I sure did!” I replied. “Right on my office door.”
Just months
I’ve often felt that a teacher’s life is suspended, Janus-like, between past experiences and future hopes; it’s only fitting, then, that I’m preparing for this
I don’t usually gasp while reading how-to books for new professors. But then, I don’t often encounter revelations in them as jaw-dropping as Marybeth Gasman’s:
I didn’t always offer full-throated endorsements of audiobooks in my literature courses. Maybe that’s because I’m not really an audiobook person. Call me old-fashioned, but
My mother was not your typical 1990s Beanie Babies collector. She didn’t care whether the little pellet-filled critters that she scavenged for at flea markets
“Are those handouts for us?” my student asked, gesturing toward the copies of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 29 that I’d carried into class. “Nope,” I replied. “They’re
Magna Publications © 2024 All rights reserved