The Constant E-Mail Tutorial

by Shari Dinkins

HI MS. DINKINS. This is Nancy in your English 96 class. I’m just a little confused with the literary analysis essay. What is it that you want us to write about? Are we supposed to summarize the story? Also, for the thesis, I don’t understand how we bring the setting, characters, plot and symbols together to make the thesis. I’m really worried about this essay because I don’t get it. Thanks.

This one popped into my e-mail Thursday at 6:23 p.m. I answered it within an hour.

Dear Ms. Dinkins, Here is the introduction and first body paragraph topic sentence. I have an idea to write about, but the hardest is probably how to link the themes and symbols together, right? Thank You, Lawrence.

And this one-Friday at 4:10pm. I answered it by 5:00 p.m. with a host of suggestions.

Dear Ms. Dinkins, I had my thesis this morning but I saw some other students in line to wait with some questions. So I thought I should just send you mine by e-mail. This is my intro below and my thesis is at the end of it. Any suggestions or comments would help me to make it better—especially the introduction and the thesis. Please correct them for any mistakes. I thank you for your assistance, B.

At 5:27 p.m., I received this one in my in-box; I replied by 5:45 with ideas and corrections.

Hi, Dinkins: I am Lily. Can I use the pattern of the Nabokov essay you handed out? My topic is the James Joyce short story. The main themes are isolation, hopelessness, and powerlessness. I will send my intro, conclusion and outline tomorrow night. Please e-mail me back tomorrow and give me some feedback about my themes. Thx, Lily.

This one required more work-but I replied within twenty minutes of receipt. By 5:30 p.m, Lily will have all that she needs to start on her essay.

I have colleagues that refuse to answer e-mail from students. The fear? That you will spend hours and hours on-line. That your life will pass before your eyes and before you know it you will turn to the stack of papers on your desk and it will be three hours later.

The reality is that making a commitment takes time. Maybe not three hours a day–but it’s substantial. I draw the line at accepting papers and assignments by e-mail. But other than that, I answer my e-mail at least twice a day. Questions about thesis statements, outlines, even introductions and conclusions are answered quickly. I waver between typing in corrections myself and noting what the problem is. I usually note the problem so that the student can correct it. I put my comments after the offending phrase or sentence in parentheses and all caps. That way my students don’t open their mail, see nothing obvious and don’t make any adjustments to their papers. It looks like this: He look at me that way. (CHECK SUBJECT-VERB RELATIONSHIP). So I went. To the party. (FRAGMENT). It’s not a perfect solution. At times I am tired and after making notes, I make a few corrections in all caps.

On weekends when my students are writing papers, I reassure them that I am answering my e-mail at least twice a day. “If I send you my thesis on Saturday, you can give me comments?” they ask. “Yes,” I nod. Some cannot believe that I will sit down on my weekends and answer their e-mail. Some students in my university level composition class have e-mailed me five or six times on the weekend. First it is about the topic. Then it is about the thesis. Then it is about the corrected thesis. Then the rough outline. And then the introduction. Later the conclusion comes hurtling through my internet connection. They write on their own then, and I see them on Monday, beaming.

I don’t think of it as enabling. I think of it as tutoring. As an adjunct, I am not paid to sit at home and read through fourteen e-mail messages on Saturday morning. But I do it. I wave away friends and let a phone message go to the machine as I try to make sense of a thesis statement that is flawed. And when I do get up from my chair, I feel satisfied. Confident. That on Monday, what I will get may be a tad better. Six or eight students will turn in something that is not as bad as it could be. That instead of sitting at home, cursing my name (or my syllabus), they will read my e-mail once, twice, print it out. Then they will set to work again. But they will not be alone in their work. I am only a short message and e-mail address away. Not so far for the technologically advanced.

It’s like an office hour; without time constraints; without the face-to-face. Yes, it’s frustrating. I want to sit down with them and look over the paper with them. I know that with my prompting, they will correct much on their own. My presence will help them see somehow. “And, what do you think about this clause?” I will ask. “Ah, no, went,” the student will say, a sheepish look, “not go.” And they will correct it themselves. It is a strange action. One that I trust more than my e-mail notes sent over a phone or DSL line. I know that when they look at their own work, their own words, sitting in my office, they will see. As if for the first time, they will glance down and read through with me. The student, with pencil in hand takes action; corrects his or her own work. The reward? With face-to-face it sticks. With e-mail, it is tempting to cut and paste, move words around and think only, “Make it correct. Get it right. What must I do here?” Yet in my office, there is the movement, the hand, the arm, the pen, the eye contact, the warm smile, the nod. And that will make an impact.

E-mail is imperfect. It’s too fast sometimes, too streamlined; without warmth and contact. But on a Sunday night at 10:00 PM, it is better than nothing. And maybe it helps-if only in confidence. “Good thesis.” And on they go to write an introduction, a conclusion, body paragraphs. On Monday, I am happy, knowing that they did not go it alone.