The lighter side of grading papers is always the Freudian slips, where students write stuff that makes some sort of sense but is obviously not what they meant. Well, Freudian slips and rather serious misunderstandings of the material; occasional hyperbole is to be expected.
Over the last four years and change, I’ve read some rather amazing things while grading tests, papers and memos. My favorite slips involve students “bearing” their souls in creative writing versus the “baring” they meant. I sometimes wanted to respond that I, too, was bearing it. Other favorite slips include “pubic” instead of “public,” “fanny” instead of “funny,” “goose pimps” for “goose pimples,” “bowel” for “bowl” and “bugger” for “buffer.”
Occasionally, when I point these out, the student gets very defensive. They demand to know why, seeing as how I make mistakes, I bother to point out theirs. They ask why I think I’m perfect enough to point out the things they’ve done wrong.
I’m sometimes tempted to ask them how they plan to learn, because learning involves the risk of being wrong. Instead, I try to empathize: in the United States, we have terrible narratives for academic success. Supposedly, if you’re “meant” to be in a discipline, you don’t make mistakes or have to ask questions. You can perform perfectly, and if you perform perfectly enough, you become an authority.
There’s some merit in the idea that authority is based on performance and can be, in some ways, evaluated by the people who authority is exercised over. However, teaching assistants don’t get into graduate school by being bad at their subjects, and the semester’s performance reviews are used to evaluate our performances.
There’s also some merit in the need for everyone to be accountable. For this reason, there are complaint procedures for students who feel cheated or otherwise shortchanged. Teaching assistants, because they don’t have tenure, can be seriously impacted by these procedures.
That objection, that the TA dare not point out errors unless perfect, involves more than those two motivations. Some of it has to do with those narratives for failure; if students have not been exposed to the idea that they can become better and that they can succeed, they will tend to believe that their mistakes represent the idea that they do not belong. For them, it is personal:
pointing out their mistakes means that they are failures, something that amounts to damning them to poverty in this economic climate.
Of course, the idea that you will somehow become error-free is wrong; if there’s anything learning will teach you, it’s that you will tend to be wrong without learning to be very careful about being accurate. And then you will be wrong about something else.
Spelling errors, Freudian slips and other small errors are a part of being alive.
Students will also sometimes ascribe errors to the fact that the person teaching them is a TA, seen as a poor substitution for a “real” professor (old, male, white). I am happy to admit I am not a “real” professor by that standard, despite a terminal degree which qualifies me to that designation in English classrooms.
It is very true that professionals are held to a high standard of accuracy. Our errors are held against us and, depending on one’s career, potentially terminal. We are supposed to make few, if any, in order to be considered ‘good’ at being professional.
That model for authority is self-evidently inhuman, though we can and should strive to get close to it for the love of accuracy and the love of knowledge. I, too, am accountable and will always be accountable to my peers.
Get content from The Daily Lobo delivered to your inbox
Students might wonder why we point their errors out, because errors are to be expected; pointing it out is both part of the job and training to become professional. In some ways, it is a mark of respect to point out someone’s errors, because it can be the attempt to offer the other person an opportunity to be better.
Obviously, there’s a difference between constructive criticism (this is wrong, and here’s how to do this better) and insult (calling the student stupid in your comments). Insults are best saved for people who aren’t dependent on your good will for their career prospects.
I try to encourage my students to think of the process as teaching them a detail-oriented mind. Much of what we have to learn to become professionals involves learning to pay attention to the small details. Much of what we learn cannot be learned without attention to small details..
I don’t take Freudian slips personally for that reason. A few will occur no matter what, and a reminder that they’ve made a mistake is training to look a little closer.
Beside these points, I am grateful for the chance to laugh as I grade.
