2007 ~ 2012 |
A NEW CAMPUS AND THE BIRTH OF SASS
The Colour Purple
Fikri Jermadi
*****
It’s always personal.
90
I am
professional
because I am
personal.
I flip close the cover sheet, having assessed of the
assessment, and place it to one side. It lies on top
of a few others just like it, its edges frazzled from the
constant trial and tribulation I place it under. I reach for
another from a much bigger pile, its front pages already
flipped open to the assignment’s first page, and start
again, balancing my purple pen lightly on my fingertips.
*****
There are a number of reasons why I say this is personal.
The first is more mundane, more philosophical,
perhaps, yet rendered no less true by its maze: it
simply is. For the most part, we like to believe that
our assessors in life (lecturers, bosses, partners) all
approach things with firm criteria in mind, a lucid set
of expectations made clear by way of written or (un)
spoken rubric. Sometimes, there is the impression
that this is indeed done. At other times, we need to do
some fine combing through that haystack in search of
that objectivity.
Yet the reality remains that even the most professional
of assessments are couched in personal interpretation.
Whenever man is involved, interpretation follows. As
I see it, the objective is a collection of agreed upon
subjectivities, one which the collective would work
with as a part of its basic foundation. Dig a little deeper
beneath that, however, and you’ll see the workings of a
very personal perspective.
Some would advise to let such sleeping dogs lie. I
prefer that we don’t mislead ourselves into thinking that
the judgment of others is one that is not fraught with its
own problems.
Much like this assignment. I had scribbled through all its
pages, marking out how it needs to be more academic.
I am actually tempted to rip it up and throw it into the
trash can. Perhaps it is not all bad: amidst the signs of
impending doom are slivers of hope, as I always try to
make sure that my stream of consciousness marking
style express the positive points as well. It is more work,
but they know where they stand when I am happy.
It does not mean the reverse of that is false. I actually
did rip up an assignment in class that one time, in front
of not only the student, but also everyone else in class.
The fact that those who bore witness to this heinous
act added up to the fingers I have on my hand (that
five included yours truly) took nothing away from its
heinousness. I had been frustrated, largely because it is
the marking of such papers that usually takes up most
of my time.
Beyond that frustration lies an even deeper and more
dangerous friend than darkness: disappointment.
*****
I don’t see my students as simply another name on
the attendance list (even if that may actually be the
case). They’re not a featureless face lost amongst the
sea of students on a bright Tuesday morning, but a
whole person, a story with a beginning, middle, and an
end. Marking their papers, therefore, is not simply the
fulfilment of a professional and academic obligation.
Rather, it is the shepherding of the next generation to
the next stage.