Last night I attended a tutorial session for a course that I am taking through the Open University. Without delving too much into how wonderful the concept of OU is for a student like me, I will say that it probably would have been far too difficult for me to get my degree through a traditional university and that OU does its best to cater for people who, because of one reason or another cannot attend full-time, campus-based lectures. However, once a month, the OU offers group tutorial sessions, which are held at nearby universities, after hours, so that those enrolled in courses can get together with other students, their tutor/professor and bounce ideas off each other as to the nature of the reading material and the progress of written assignments that are required for assessments. These assignments usually take the form of essays, one per month, and consisting between 1500 and 2000 words. Unlike some other long-distance learning universities that have only been set up recently and offer a wide range of degrees through on-line or correspondence material, the OU and their degree programmes are widely respected in the UK. Granted, the degree that I will get from the OU will not hold as much clout as say a degree from Oxford or Cambridge, but it is a solid basis for any career or post-grad work that I might want to do here, in the UK.
Now, my little spiel about the OU isn't important to qualify my degree status or how brilliant the OU concept is, but to illustrate the importance of the tutorial groups to those who are able to attend. Last night, I committed a faux pas and today I am ruminating on it, to an extent that I must make a confession about it...
I am aware that adult-learning scenarios contain mainly the same types of students that were present in elementary/primary school and in high school. The only exception being the 'class clown' or 'unruly' student, as hopefully neither of those personalities appears in later voluntary education (although, I am aware of the undergrad student types who do feel it necessary to inject inappropriate humour into discussions). The problem is that last night I became the student who took up precious time (bearing in mind, we are only allocated two hours of tutorial time per month) to ask a question that should have been directed to the tutor AFTER the group tutorial. You know the type of student I mean, the one who HAS to make a point that is completely irrelevant or so unhelpful to the discussion that the time spent getting back on track is, yet, more wasted time. *sigh* I suppose the reason it bothers me so much is that I know that everyone in that classroom has busy lives and has made a real effort to attend, some traveling from over an hour away by train.
1/40th of the discussion was devoted to my little rant. I am very disappointed in myself because usually I am able to filter out information that seems unnecessary or silly. I did apologise afterward for monopolising the last bit of the lecture, but it was done and couldn't be taken back, nor could any more time be given to those who might have benefited from a different line of discussion. When I was younger and in elementary and high school I very often used tactics to distract and divert teachers' attentions from the lectures, much to the delight of most of my classmates. As an adult, I find it tiresome to listen to others deliberately (or inadvertently) mislead, and so wish I could have gone back and done my education differently. So, if you trawl the blogworld after having read this post and find another London-area OU student who is bitching about the tutorial experience she (our group is completely female) had last night, then just be aware she could be referring to me and my little faux pas. You might say that it's not all that bad and perhaps I should stop being so critical. Actually, I think it is entirely appropriate to point out that as we age and gain more experience the parallels of knowing and doing should more closely mirror each other. Last night was just a teensy-weensy example of my knowledge and my actions diverging, for even a brief moment and the consequences that followed, for everyone. Hmm. What do you think? What student type were you? What type are you now?
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What kind of student/professional am I? (I think the question applies across the board.)
One who has to literally sit on my hands and very deliberately button my lip, because I--similarly like you--can derail a moment faster than an obstacle on a train track.
So, why do our knowing and our doing diverge? I KNOW I shouldn't say 'x', but for some stupid, got-to-prove-my-point reason, I DO. Not as often as I use to, but enough to leave me cringing and thinking, "Gawd, I need to shut it!" and apologizing all 'round.
I don't know if I'm learning to be better about just keeping my mouth shut in inappropriate moments or if I'm just worn down and too tired to fight. Maybe it's a mix of both.
What I have done of late is, when I'm going into a situation where I even remotely suspect I might 'blow it', I write down a short list of questions or actionable items that I want to address. Then, when I sit down with either a supervisor or with a peer or a team, I now let someone else start the talking and I just try to listen. Sometimes, I get to ask my questions. Other times, the answers occur naturally in the course of the meeting.
Don't know if I've contributed any further light and knowledge, but I can say, I feel your pain. Try not to overthink it, though, or you'll head will get all wonky. Just know that you did it and don't do it again! ;-) (She says, tongue-in-cheek.)
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