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I’ve been a Teacher’s Assistant with the School of Creative Writing since 2021. Working with Undergraduate students for almost 3 years at the Creative Writing Graduate level with some experience as a teacher outside of this role, I find office hour the most fun and engaging. It’s the place where a student and a TA can interact to learn, validate, encourage one another, and establish connection.

Partly because of our immersion into creative study of the fine arts and my writing of poetry as a huge aspect of my person in tandem with my tendency toward being social, I feel a certain joy in meeting new people. There’s an inherent belief that there’s much value to engage with people through voice, sound, sight, and sense through a one-to-one discussion platform or hosting a smaller group with one TA for the purposes of questions, concerns, discussion points for clarification or just all-around support.

Office Hour or Meeting Hour tends to be overlooked in our information saturated age, whether it be in person or through our latest pandemic-precipitated online-accessible platform of Zoom. Yet, putting a voice to a student name or a face absolutely precipitates further appreciation of both the course and simultaneously further comprehension of the position of the student during the time allotted. Time is an important aspect of this function. Should a student meeting be ten minutes or fifteen or twenty? How does one determine if a student would like some conversation to comprehend more about the course in general? Usually this can be fluid, happening organically as questions are considered and answered between the student and the TA. When it comes to answering concerns or questions about marks, a suggestion would be to meet one-on-one for 10 to 15 minutes maximum, since other students invariably enter the sensitive conversational space without this boundary.

Sometimes TA’s sit waiting throughout a quiet office hour without any inquiries. The ‘sense’ of ‘Am I doing this right?’ tends to creep up upon our task as it certainly has when I initially began the position; however, there are those weeks of the semester when there are several students that want to clarify, ask for insights, or would further like to engage by simply talking to better understand how they can further express their capabilities in the course. The times waiting for students to show up are worth it for the valuable times when students show up and conversations happen.

Office hours tend to be weekly and specific with most undergraduate courses, yet I had the opportunity to take part in an innovative practice one of the professors devised: to assist students asynchronously where office hours took place both in person and online. My role held that of an ongoing weekly TA with specific emphasis. Each week I would post an announcement with an allocated time. It was not emphasized as an ‘office hour’ meeting, as other TAs were also engaged in a similar practice on other days with a different focus. It was this component that became exciting.

The specific focus of this hour for the asynchronous course offered a consistent time available to have students attend an online meeting, which addressed the students with an announcement as ‘Dear Writers’ or ‘Dear Poets’ or Dear (fill in the genre gap) to engage in conversation, concerns and questions about the curriculum, upcoming assignments, etc. The openness of this weekly interaction made for quite a few students coming forward to discuss specific aspects of the syllabus, various pedagogical components, and requests for feedback as to whether they are on the right track with creative ideas or concepts.

Often, students wait for their turn to ask and speak while listening to those before them–especially if there’s an in-person or Zoom room of three to six students. How can we TAs engage a group of more than two or three fully? Have the previous questioners touched upon similar questions of their own? Is there a way to offer further inclusivity by addressing the group while each of them waits for their turn? For Tas, is there a moment to inquire or address the group in line as well as acknowledge their individual request(s) or need(s)? How can one find out as a TA if thought, inspiration, and ideas arise while students actively participate in waiting and listening? Although making space and attention for quieter students is important, the quiet listening is not something to be afraid of: sometimes, students want to stay on to listen after their question has been answered. As I see it, this is rewarding and exciting for all participants and the TA. Everyone is engaged. Everyone is learning.

Without giving too much away when it comes to opinions on creativity and imagination, unless asked by a student to offer some insight in such a manner, it’s always important to indicate if they’re going in the ‘right’ direction in relation to the assignment(s) or the activity. Sometimes, redirecting the students’ questions to the Professor is necessary. Most importantly, encouraging the student to consider more specific aspects of what they are writing and how by asking questions can both give direction and get the student(s) to think, analyze and consider what they are doing with this piece. This allows for them to consider how else they might approach the process of the task as well as their idea(s).

Providing some analogies or examples to further put their ideas and concerns into context is a great help. Such regular engagement encourages students to further explain themselves as well as understand how brief conversation can become a weekly practice, which leaves students more satisfied and secure. You, TA, are there for them. The rewards being that a Teacher’s Assistant is remembered and recognized for their facilitation, input and sharing. Receiving questions and interest as well as an opportunity for either pedagogical discussion or clarification over an assignment or a concept is a rewarding practice where our TA role allows both growth and positive moments we can revel in.

Hi! I’m Adrian Matias Bell (he/him), a first-year on-campus MFA candidate and Creative Writing TA. This past term, I TAed Sheryda’s Intro to Poetry class (CRWR 201) and really enjoyed it! 

I’m also Creative Writing’s department representative for CUPE 2278, your TA union. In this blog post, I’ll tell you a little bit about CUPE, the basic rights UBC TAs have as unionized workers, and how to make sure you’re getting the worker protections you deserve.

If you have any concerns or questions related to what you read here, if you run into issues with your TAship, if you want to get more involved with the union, or if you’re just curious about CUPE, you can always email me at jmatiasbell@gmail.com!

What is CUPE?

CUPE 2278 is our local branch of the Canadian Union of Public Employees. It includes UBC’s TAs, tutors, markers, and English-language instructors, as well as Graduate TAs up at UNBC.

Like any union, we engage in collective bargaining with our employer to make sure our workers have a livable wage, safe working conditions (including freedom from workplace harassment and bullying), job security, and benefits. In our case, CUPE bargains with UBC’s Board of Governors. The result of those negotiations is our collective agreement, which establishes the rights of unionized workers. The collective agreement is a contract between the union and the employer that lasts for a fixed amount of time and is periodically re-negotiated. That’s actually happening this year – more about that at the end!

You can read our current collective agreement in full at this link. It’s informative, but very long. You can get a quick summary of it at this link!

The rest of this article will go over some important points from the collective agreement and tell you more about what they mean for you as a Creative Writing TA.

What are my basic rights as a unionized TA?

You have the right to not work more than the number of hours assigned to your TA position. At the start of the term, your professor should have given you an approximate breakdown of how they want you to spend those hours (the Allocation of Hours form). 

Because TA positions are unionized, you are paid for all your hours in a given pay period without having to report them in Workday. This is because a TA’s workload can vary dramatically from week to week, but your rent and bills are the same every month.

That said, it’s really important to keep track of the hours you spend on TA work to make sure you’re not going over your allotted hours. If you’re ever getting close to that number, or if your actual allocation of hours is different than what your instructor predicted, please bring it up with your instructor or the TA coordinator! They will work to create a new TA appointment so you or someone else can fill the excess hours and be paid fairly for them.

If you have any concerns about doing that, please feel free to reach out to me at the email address above. Please remember that your communication will be confidential, and CUPE will never take action on your behalf without your explicit permission.

There’s no existing template for tracking hours, but here’s an example of the type of spreadsheet I use:

This allows me to easily calculate totals for how much time I’ve spent on different assignments and types of tasks. That way, I can easily compare my instructor’s hours breakdown to the way my hours have actually been allocated.

I also encourage you to talk to each other! Ask your fellow TAs about what strategies work for them when it comes to keeping track of hours; marking; supporting our students; and so on. We can learn a lot from each other!

What else should I know about being a unionized worker?

As a Master’s student, once you have been hired as a TA, you get two years of hiring preference over new TAs after your first year of employment. You must be hired for at least the same number of hours that you worked during your first year, but you are not guaranteed the same course(s).

If you have less than two years of TA experience, you will make $33.80 an hour. Past that, you will make $35.13 an hour.

TA duties in a single day can’t exceed eight hours without your consent. You can’t be required to work more than 24 hours a week, and you can’t be required to work before 7:30 A.M. or after 8 P.M.

Parental leave is available for TAs, although it is unpaid. You might be eligible for employment insurance or support from the union’s support fund. TAs are also eligible for up to five days paid leave of absence if they are addressing domestic violence in their life. Feel free to reach out to me or contact CUPE through their website if you have more questions.

Finally, your status as a student and your status as a UBC employee are separate and distinct. That means that employment decisions cannot be made based on your academic record, and your academic record cannot be harmed because of an employment issue.

How can I learn more about CUPE/how can I get involved with the union?

This is an exciting year to get involved with the union! First, it’s a bargaining year with the university. If you’re curious about bargaining and want to get involved, email me or advocate@cupe2278.ca. 

There’s also an ongoing campaign to expand unionization to UBC grad students who are RAs, GAAs, and Work Learn students, so they can have the same worker protections as TAs. You can read more about that here, and you can sign a union card if you have a Work Learn or GAA position in addition to your TAship. If you’d like to get involved with the campaign, feel free to email me or reach out through CUPE’s contact form. I’m happy to answer any questions!

Thanks for reading, and I’m wishing you all a smooth end to the academic year!

We often talk about a work-life balance, but what does balance look like with TAing?

Now that we’re nearing the end of term, and with the changing seasons (as well as plenty of rain), I’m sure some of us are feeling a bit burnt out and tired. On top of that, balancing emotions while TAing, especially when the subject matter we’re marking gets heavy, can be difficult. Some professors have different policies; marking can be switched between TAs if they feel uncomfortable with grading the work. But the moments leading up to realizing it’s not something they can mark, or even trading assignments with other TAs can still take a toll. TAing is emotional work, whether it’s reading creative work or following up with students—empathy towards others is important, but so is empathy towards what you’re able to give now.

I’ve also realized something about myself recently—I’m highly sensitive to sensory stimuli, such as loud noises or lights, and I am often so rattled by an argument that it takes me days to process it—until then, the emotion remains in my body. In other words, I identify as a highly sensitive person. Whether it’s due to this trait or my depression (or perhaps a combination of both), organizing my emotions sometimes feels like another part-time job.

So how do we balance emotions and TAing? Please note, these are suggestions and might not work for you, but I hope to share something that might be helpful to try. Here are some philosophical and practical ways I found lightness in between marking and other responsibilities:

1. Finding poetry in everyday moments

I enjoy finding moments that sparkle or give me energy. Similar to how a poem can be gentle and light at moments, but heavier and smoky in others, I’ve found similar beauty and tension in nature. For instance, in sunsets and sunrises guarded by mountains, or the way the wind brushes my wrist in mornings. When I’m more open to these moments of beauty, the overwhelming moments feel more manageable. Writing down these moments or taking photos can also help with rainier days and moods.

2. Budgeting: Time, Energy, and Happiness

I’m trying a new budgeting schedule for myself—similar to a budget for finances, it’s one that explores time, energy, and happiness for the projects or tasks I want or have to complete. Many tasks that take less time, such as getting groceries, can take away energy that might result in the rest of the day being less productive than anticipated. Further, determining the happiness level of tasks should help with how many additional projects I decide to take on.

3. Listening to Self-Compassionate Music

I actually have a playlist called “Songs for Life” that I listen to, filled with musical theatre or Disney songs that channel healing or warrior energy. I find it helpful to have music for different tasks sometimes, such as music I listen to for walks where I don’t want to think, or for taking out the garbage.

4. Finding a Rhythm

I find it helpful to potentially scout locations on walks for library spots or café locations that look like relatively quiet places to work, ideally next to windows and nature. Keeping one or two locations as my working spots, and avoiding it for other relaxing tasks, helps me keep a better work-life balance. Also, starting my marking from the middle or end of a batch of students, and skipping back-and-forth between different moments, helps me establish a rhythm more readily than going from the first student to the last. Sometimes, finding the ones that are easier to read (I find Cambria a difficult font) and saving the more complex ones for last is also helpful strategy. Lastly, for classes where students submit multiple genres, I like to go through first for one genre (ex. poetry), before switching over the rubric for another genre.

5. Dance and Movement

I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt lethargic for most of the day before going to a dance class and feeling much more invigorated. Yoga also helps clear my mind—finding room and space for movement can be hard in a packed-day, but consider taking a slightly longer route to walk home, or getting off the bus a stop or two before. Alternatively, doing stretches in-between marking sprints can also be helpful.

6. Surround yourself with care

The environment in which I work affects my mindset, which is why periodically I clear my table to work. Similarly, taking care of my diet and making sure I have breakfast has helped me balance workloads. As well, the people we interact with and care about have an impact—I have slowly started to gravitate towards those who make me feel warm and light.

These are a few approaches I rely on to balance the emotional workload of being a TA as well as other responsibilities. Let me know if any of that resonates with you and/or if you have advice that you can share with others to make it through this busy marking season!

What does it mean to be an older student, neurodiverse, and a teaching assistant? Is there less shame today in being a “lifelong” student than in previous times? Are there more of us? By us, I suppose I mean anyone who is no longer in their early twenties, “returning” to school. Sure, we live in a time when it is common to flit through many professions, or to be shoved out of one’s trajectory by social upheavals. If we are returning to school, though, it’s hard to shake the feeling that our timing is off, or that we are somehow even less practical than the twenty year olds pursuing degrees that, after all, may not lead to careers.

Is the whole institution of the teaching assistantship set up for younger folks? How can an older student fit the bill–keen, diligent, eager, grateful–an exemplary servant of the university system and happy intermediary between faculty and the student on the ground?

Part of what is fraught in this situation is the sometimes subordinate relationship to a professor, some of whom may have become rather methodical about how they teach.  Different professors establish different relationships with their teaching assistant team, but I wonder if a certain kind of corporate-think is not built into the very word “team.” Sometimes things go swimmingly, but inevitably one will encounter the professor who feels the need to monitor everything that might affect their course, or on the other hand the distant professor who is hard to reach via email. I have had professors (in other departments) surprise TAs with an arbitrary demand to submit a stack of marked work to be scrutinized for irregularities. Most of the many courses I TA’d went well, but I had one professor in a different department write a scathing report of my teaching (something very rarely done, particularly because teaching evaluations are supposed to improve one’s future prospects). These may seem like small moments of turbulence in the otherwise friendly skies of the TA, but it is important to note just how damaging these incidents can be. They made me feel like a fool in a compromising situation, and undermined my self-esteem. In fact, these microaggressions damaged my mental health and wellbeing, in turn damaging my prospects of success (the very thing professors should be trying to promote).

I have personally TA’d in four departments at UBC as a significantly older student. One of my problems has been that, as someone on the spectrum, I look and sound younger than my biological age. It can be uncomfortable when a professor your own age or younger exerts (or micro-exerts) power over you. The bar we have to meet can feel like it has less to do with who we are than with marking according to rubrics, and conflict of any kind with a professor is going to stressful. One can feel like they must struggle to be charming, pleasant, and grateful in response to these issues because the consequences of being otherwise simply are not worth it.

All of this is compounded for an older TA who is on the spectrum. Neurodiverse people have a heightened sense of social justice, and also tend to be plain spoken, if not blunt. It may also be hard to recognize our merits, because we do not fit the norms of social competence.

This is why caring for oneself is so particularly important as a TA. Part of caring for oneself as a TA is knowing that your needs or approaches may differ from those of others. For instance, keeping track of hours might be freeing for some, but for me it is another kind of tyranny. One consequence of such tight timekeeping is that one may press oneself to work harder in the allotted time, resulting in stress and headaches. I choose not to have that kind of relationship to work and to time. Another way of caring for oneself in these situations, when there is no actual abuse, is to share one’s feelings with someone else. It is important to acknowledge suffering as suffering.

Sometimes (maybe often), talking to the professor will help. Ultimately, what helps me is a sense of absurdity and a feeling of unconditional gratitude. Good and bad are dualistic ideas. So are old and young. Life is ephemeral. Goals are mirages. Unconditional gratitude is just that–appreciation of what is, without any foundation or basis.

This school year (2022/2023), besides working as a TA, I also have the fortune to be working with Maureen Medved and Linda Svendsen as the Graduate Student Assistant for the Major Awards (which includes SSHRC, the Aboriginal Graduate Fellowship, the Affiliated Fellowship, and a couple of other awards).

Performing that role while I’m TAing made me think a lot about how the obvious only becomes obvious – to us – when we repeat it to ourselves enough times to memorize it. I came to that conclusion because of one of the methods that I decided to apply to carry out my work as the Assistant for the Major Awards. One of the main responsibilities I had this term was answering – or trying to find the answer to – doubts and questions that people applying for awards eventually encountered as they worked on their applications. Knowing that I’d have this responsibility, I decided to approach it in a similar way that I approach giving students feedback for their assignments when I’m marking.

Shared Vocabulary

There’s a logic behind why TAs are encouraged to think of rubrics as the main reference when they’re writing their feedback for student assignments; there’s also a reason why TAs are told to use as much as possible the same language and terms that are in the rubrics. These practices remind TAs that they’re marking specific aspects in the students’ work and not simply using personal taste to judge the students’ assignments.

If you have the habit of reading about the craft of writing, and especially if you had the chance to take some writing classes, then you’re probably already familiarized with certain terms whose names keep showing up even when their definitions are being argued about, terms like Character, Point of View, Narrator, Setting, Worldbuilding, etc. But what happens when a student isn’t yet familiarized with these concepts and terms? Unless the instructor takes the time to explain or have a conversation about each of the foundations of their classes, that student who isn’t familiar with these fundamental concepts will have a much harder time taking the course. Having conversations about the basic concepts behind the craft of writing also helps students who are familiar with these concepts to revisit and even reconsider what they already know, and to further their understanding.

As writers, we all know that there’s a huge difference between knowing about a certain concept and learning how use it in a way that’s personal to us – that makes our voices shine on the page. Therefore, it’s important for all of us to get feedback that’s designed around terms we’re familiar with. This way, we know how to take that feedback and turn it into effective tools to make our work better.

There are also many classes where instructors and students come up with in-class terms for specific things. Sometimes those terms come from the instructor, but sometimes they’re born from conversations between students and the teacher. For instance, let’s say that a student is talking about the difficulties they had finishing their first draft for a story, and that it was so hard they started seeing it as “the dragon.” Let’s also imagine that the instructor takes that moment as an opportunity to talk to the class about how first drafts are difficult for everyone, and how every writer has to “defeat the dragon.” From then on, it’s possible that everyone in that class will start calling their first drafts “dragons” and will also say things like “defeating the dragon” to symbolize they’re struggling to finish a first draft – but they will make it, and that term has a shared meaning and some energy in it that will probably help in their writing.

In a case like this, it would also be fruitful for TAs to keep the term “defeating the dragon” in their minds when they’re writing feedback for the students’ assignments, and to use the term whenever it’s helpful.

Back in 2020, in my first year in the program which was when I applied for the Affiliated Fellowship Award, I was still living in Brazil and wasn’t working as a TA. By then, because I was spending most of my time speaking in Portuguese with everyone around me in Brazil, it was a little bit harder than it is right now for me to translate some of the things that I usually talk about – or even think about – in Portuguese. Because of that, the fact that we had a shared vocabulary in the classes I was taking helped me a lot. One word or term eventually led to another, and that magical mix of intention working side by side with association helped me get used to code switching a lot faster than I used to be able to.

The proposal that I sent as my application for the Affiliated – which is also my thesis project – first started as a novel that I began writing in Portuguese. If it hadn’t been for all the help that Linda, Maureen, and Shaelyn Johnston (the brilliant writer who held the same Major Awards position that I have this year) provided for us who were applying for awards, I probably wouldn’t have been able to write my application. The Guides that they’d prepared for the applicants were also fundamental for me then.

We Need Repetition

Once I started working as the Assistant for the Major Awards, I inherited these Guides from Shaelyn as the main tool to fulfill my responsibilities in that position, and they were just a bit updated for 2022. They’re the same Guides that applicants are meant to do a close reading of – much like students are supposed to read the Course Syllabus and the Guidelines (and Rubrics) for each Assignment.

Let’s be honest, even when the Syllabus and Guidelines are well written and thorough, with clear language that employs the same vocabulary of the course, sometimes it’s hard to be able to figure out or to memorize all the important information we need just from reading it. Most of us need some repetition to make sense of things that are explained in the Syllabus, and a lot of us need some repetition outside of the Syllabus too – through reminders, in-class discussions, feedback, etc.

It’s the same thing when it comes to all the important information that applicants need to be able to apply for the Major Awards that MFA students can apply as graduate students at the School of Creative Writing. Especially because the language that applicants are meant to use in their proposals leans a bit more towards academic writing than creative writing, and most of us aren’t as used to that type of text.

So, I decided that whenever someone had a question for me to help them with, I’d find different ways to explain the same information that was already in the Guides, yet also acknowledge the importance of bringing up those doubts. People are busy and worried about a bunch of things, and maybe my answer could be the moment when that piece of repeated information would finally click for them – giving them a better chance to write something good that fits the purpose of their efforts in that moment. You can’t expect anyone to memorize a piece of info the first time they scan over it.

The realization that some repetition is necessary for everyone is kind of humbling. For me, it’s a reminder that nobody has everything figured out and that practical knowledge – much like writing – requires revision. It’s also important to consider how to use a basic, shared vocabulary in a way that’s constantly fresh, so you’re not repeating the same sentences that are already in a Syllabus or in a Guideline. This balance of newness and repetition is a balance every teacher or student support worker strives to find.

The previous explanation the student had—the first time they were told something, but didn’t absorb or fully understand it—probably didn’t work for quite a few people in the class. When a student reaches out to a TA seeking clarification, whether it’s a doubt about something from the course or from the feedback they got about their assignments, it’s a good thing. It’s probably happening because that student is truly paying attention to the course and to the feedback that we’re giving them.

Conclusion

Have you ever had a moment when someone rephrases a piece of information that you’ve already read or heard about somewhere, but you weren’t able to fully get it – until that person who described it from a different perspective helped you finally understand it? I’m willing to bet that your favorite teachers were responsible for some of those moments in your life, and probably some of your favorite writers too.

As TAs, we’re not entirely responsible for the role of trying to make sure that students experience these eureka moments. But with tools like repetition and re-framing, we can certainly help pave the way for the students to be able to achieve these moments of understanding and recognition, which will probably help them become better writers, and bit more fulfilled as people too.

I love listening to podcasts—who doesn’t? There were an estimated 120 million podcast listeners in the United States in 2021, and that number is expected to exceed 160 million by 2023. This is a growing and exciting genre that offers real opportunities for writers. However, like many other non-traditional genres, there are fewer resources out there about TAing for podcasting courses, and figuring out how best to assess podcast assignments can be a bit of a struggle.

I’ve been working in the audio medium since 2016 and started my own weekly science podcast in the summer of 2020. I also work as an editorial associate for Podyssey, a podcast recommendation app, where I listen to a huge variety of podcasts. So, I thought TAing a podcasting class would be relatively straightforward for me. But, just like any other creative writing genre, what makes a “good” podcast can be incredibly subjective. I thought it could be helpful to offer some advice about what to keep in mind when marking podcast scripts and assignments, and for TAing a podcasting class in general. I also hope some of these tips might be helpful to other TAs working in new media and non-traditional genres, who might encounter similar stumbling blocks.

The Issue With Popular Podcasts and Creativity

The main issue I came up against when TAing is that many of the most popular podcasts are not very instructive for a podcasting class. This doesn’t mean they’re not entertaining! I love listening to a good chatty podcast while I do the dishes or go for a walk, but those kinds of podcasts — where a few people get together, hit record, and then chat for an hour about a topic like dating or pop culture, with little to no editing —  don’t represent the creative potential of the medium. However, it seems like many students come into the class with the expectation that this is the type of podcasting they will be learning about. Much of the class, then, is really about broadening students’ perceptions of what podcasting can be. From audio dramas to reportage to more memoiristic approaches, there are so many ways to push the podcasting envelope.

I think this is a relevant issue in many other genres as well, where the entertainment value of a piece of work is often prioritized over its artistic qualities. Whether we’re talking about film, TV, video games, virtual reality experiences, or lyrics, students may be coming into a class having only really experienced the most popular, entertainment-focused examples from the genre. Part of our job then, I believe, is to help them see the vast creative potential in that genre.

While much of this work will be done by the instructor in lectures and assigned listening, as a TA I tried to find ways to encourage students to expand their listening and think outside the box when it came to their assignments. When students would email or come to my office hours with ideas for their assignments, I would often send them any podcasts I could think of that exemplified the interesting and creative things they could do with their topic. For example, if a student wanted to investigate an internet rabbit hole, I might send them to take a listen to Underunderstood and Decoder Ring. Or, if a student wanted to make a podcast about relationships, I would point them to something like The Heart. This brings up an important point—if you’re not a big podcast listener, or you don’t listen to a variety of different genres and formats, I would encourage you to expand your own listening so that you can bring that perspective to your marking and TAing.

I would also try to help students think through ways they could use what they were learning in class to spice up their assignments. Why not try doing an interview? Why not record some relevant background ambience to help set the scene for the listener? Why not record an audio diary? I found that inviting students to try new techniques led to more creative and exciting assignments.

Marking for Production

One of the trickiest things about marking podcasting assignments is taking production into consideration. When it comes to marking finished audio files, it can be hard to know what to expect from students in terms of audio quality. Many students have never worked with audio before and will be using their phones or laptop microphones to record. That’s really part of the beauty of podcasting — it’s an incredibly accessible genre. However, there should still be an expectation that the audio will be clear enough to be understandable. The instructor will hopefully let you know a maximum number of points to deduct for unclear audio, so as not to penalize the students too much for audio issues.

When it comes to production, a more important question is whether the student has tried to take advantage of the audio medium. This is true for both scripts and finished audio projects. If the piece amounts to just someone reading an essay or story they wrote aloud into a microphone, it’s not going to be as effective to the ear as something made with the audio format in mind.

Here are some helpful questions to ask yourself about the production in the assignments you’re marking:

-Have they used relevant sound effects to help immerse the listener in the scene?

-Have they used appropriate music to enhance the impact of scenes?

-Are sound effects and music faded in and out smoothly, or do they start and stop abruptly?

-Are sound effects and music properly balanced with narration and interviews? Are they distracting?

-Have they included other voices or audio in their podcast? Whether that be through interviews, audio clips taken from the internet/film/tv, audio diaries, TikTok sounds, background audio they recorded themselves, etc. It could be anything!

-Have they tried to weave the podcast together in an interesting way? Or have they just put some clips together sequentially?

-Have they used narration to organize and tie the piece together?

When it comes to podcast production, there are so many possibilities. That’s why, to me, the most important question is whether the student has tried to do something creative with their assignment. They might not have the audio editing skills to perfectly execute their vision, but having a creative vision that goes beyond recording a simple monologue or conversation is key.

While this might seem like a podcasting-specific issue, this is an important consideration for other new media genres as well. For example, in one new media assignment I marked where students had to write a Virtual Reality script, it was important for students to consider how they were making use of the VR medium to tell their story. If the assignment was written like a film script—with little use of the 360 degree possibilities of VR, cues to direct the viewer’s attention, and immersive sound effects—then it wasn’t as effective as it could be. Again, helping students to see the unique creative possibilities with an exciting genre like VR, video games, or podcasting, will help them with their own projects.

A Note on Assessing Diction and Writing

Since these are creative writing courses, it’s also important to talk about the unique considerations when assessing diction in podcasting scripts and assignments. Like more traditional genres, we need to take into consideration things like organization, characters, and scenes. However, because podcasts are a strictly audio format, it’s imperative to write for the ear. Having beautiful, elaborate sentences full of different clauses might work well in a short story, but it can be the kiss of death for a podcaster, whose listener will struggle to understand what is being said.

If you’re marking a script, try reading it aloud to see how it flows as a narrator—do you stumble over sentences and have to re-read them? Does the writing sound natural? Does it have a voice? These are things students should be taking into consideration as they work on their scripts.

In general, in new media courses it can sometimes feel like the writing gets lost behind all the production elements. But, whether you’re marking a scene from a VR film, video game, or a 10-minute podcast assignment, make sure to still pay close attention to the quality of the writing itself. How well does the dialogue flow? Have they made interesting and surprising word choices? Is it clear and easy to follow?

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In general, it’s a lot of fun to listen to podcasting assignments. Students bring so much passion to their projects, and I heard quite a few episodes that really blew me away. While they might not be able to perfectly execute their ideas yet, we want to encourage them to keep pushing the possibilities of the genre into exciting new territory. Remember that if you find yourself struggling with marking in a non-traditional genre like podcasting, don’t hesitate to check in with the professor who will undoubtedly have great insights for you. Anyway, happy listening!

The first time I stood up at the podium to teach a class about poetic elements, I was unprepared. I mean, I was prepared as I could be by having my presentation ready to go, and I also practiced it a few times (more like a bunch) before a camera (even recorded myself in Zoom to emulate being in front of a group), plus I made sure that everything in my presentation was true (to make sure I could not be embarrassed by someone correcting me in front of the whole class)! So, I was as prepared as I could ever be going in, and I knew it was something I would have to do. I would have to do this in order to make it to the places I needed to go (wherever that was going to be). Honestly, starting the MFA program at UBC, I was not sure what my future held; all I knew was that it would have a lot of homework, writing (I love writing! not so much the homework part of it) and I knew as a TA I would have to teach a class or two ( perspires at the thought).

Such is life–we all transition many times throughout our lives. We graduate from pre-school, kindergarten, grade 6 or 7, grade 9 in some places, and of course grade 12! Then, we think our lives are really going to start. We work so hard towards graduating and growing up, and we have this false sense of ‘life will be better.’ As soon as we graduate, we find out that we have just reached another plateau. We reach another plateau and then have to climb the ‘mountain’ again no matter what we decide to do. We are always climbing mountains (some smaller, some bigger) to get to the next plateau. Even when we climb a molehill like getting our first job, it seems like a MOUNTAIN. And when we climb a big mountain like entering university and getting a degree or a Master’s, we will have had the practice of climbing many mountains and molehills. Then, we finally realize it is all about perspective.

For every mountain we have climbed–like grade 12, or a diploma, or even a new job–we reach a plateau of comfort of sorts. Every instructor or professor has also had to climb the same mountains we are now climbing. So, just know that they have also stood in the same spot you are, had their throat suddenly shrink from lack of oxygen and hydration, with their knees knocking and their voice quavering like they were riding in bumper cars trying to speak. Just ask them for support and let them know you are nervous, and they will absolutely help you because, at one time, they would have stood where you stood.

Don’t be afraid to climb the mountain because just the fact that you are here in higher education is telling about how much you want to be a part of changing the world and becoming the model person you watched as a child. Mine was a teacher who helped me see my own light when I couldn’t. Be that student and teacher who goes above and beyond, knees knocking, and spreads hope and learning to the world of other not-so-experienced climbers; reach out your hand like I know you would and help them up like I know the professors you are TA’ing for would help you. Be down to earth in all your humanness and never be afraid of being honest. We do not have to know everything and we may need to ask, but you will never know if you don’t try and let your knees knock sometimes–and just push through.

Part Two: What I Use Now that I Learned Then

As a TA, I had the chance to observe a wide range of different approaches to teaching. Some people I taught with used 70 slides for a sixty-minute lecture and some people used 5 slides. Some told jokes; others remained serious. Some offered an outline for the day’s lecture at the beginning. Some called students up to the front of the room to participate in an experiment. Some had pages of detailed lecture notes; others had a small list of bullet points.

Teaching Means Best Practices but Also Individual Strengths

Over time, I came to see that some of the choices I observed worked better or worse. It’s never a great idea to have a big block of text on a slide and lecture alongside it without reading it out loud, for example. But many of the variations I saw were not better or worse but simply the teaching persona or individual strength of the person teaching. As I worked with different faculty, I took notes on approaches I saw that crashed and burned as well as techniques that struck me as excellent strategies to reproduce in my own teaching, but I also accepted the invitation to experiment in my teaching and see what was right for me.

As a TA, you can try out detailed notes one day and loose bullet points the next and then reflect on which feels more like your style.

Teaching Involves a Series of Paradoxes

In the first workshop I took as a Ph.D. student on learning to TA, a senior professor described reading a student evaluation that dramatically changed her teaching practice. “You always know what’s coming next,” the evaluation praised, “and we just follow along like lemmings.” While the statement was offered in praise of her knowledge and planning ability, the professor understood it also as a statement about her fear of risk in the classroom. “From then on,” she said, “I looked for ways not to be completely in control, not to know exactly what was coming next. I tried to ask questions that I genuinely didn’t know the answer to either.”

I think this story has stayed with me because it so clearly illustrates a key paradox of teaching: how can we be truly open to surprises without abandoning our responsibility to hold the structure of a class?

As I prepare to teach CRWR 550: Teaching Creative Writing, I’ve been thinking about the many paradoxes we navigate as teachers of writing and how to explore them as a class. Freedom to explore and make mistakes is essential in learning to write, but so is the safety of students to learn in an atmosphere free of racist microaggressions. Teachers need to plan, but we also need to be present enough to notice when a plan must shift to accommodate more pressing questions or concerns. It’s important to extend flexibility and grace to students when they struggle, but having no deadlines and no clear expectations can be just as unkind as excessive rigidity. Working as a TA offers a rich series of case studies on how others navigate these balancing acts as well as a chance to practice them yourself.

You’re a Methods Expert Even When You’re a Content Novice

As a TA for an interdisciplinary critical thinking program, I worked with professors of Computer Science, Linguistics, Creative Writing, Literature, Linguistics, East Asian Studies, and Medieval Studies. I often found myself standing at the front of the room leading a discussion on a theory or concept I myself had only encountered the week before. In these moments, I drew on Therese Huston’s Teaching What You Don’t Know, which introduced me to the terms “content novice” and “methods expert.” Huston’s book reminded me that even when I was teaching the history of technology, the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, or the structure of Russian folk tales, all “content” that was well beyond my personal expertise, I could draw on the methods and skills I’d spent years developing expertise in: close reading, the writing and revision process, structured discussion, information literacy, and so on.

Being a TA gave me practice in stretching out of my comfort zone and helped me understand that I could help students through my experience with the writing process and my knowledge of how to ask good questions even when they were working on topics, texts, or genres that were new to me. This practice served me especially well when I took a job as the only faculty member in creative writing at a tiny college where I was constantly expected to stretch intellectually and creatively.

When you’re invited to TA in a genre that’s a bit of a stretch for you, remember that you still have a wealth of method expertise to draw on.

Teacher is a Role Any of Us Can Put on and Take off

Finally, being a TA helped me think of the roles of teacher and student as frameworks that we enter together by mutual agreement that could always be otherwise. To be the teacher, I don’t have to be the one in the room who knows the most or has published the most; I just have to be willing to take responsibility for making a space where learning and growth can happen. More and more, I see the role of teacher as holding space and offering resources, and the role of student as engaging with that space and accepting those resources.

We are all teachers at times and all students at times, and each role can be a pleasure. And really, if we’re paying attention, resources always flow both ways.

When I accepted a teaching fellowship at the end of my Ph.D., I had already taught my “own” Creative Writing, Literature, and Composition courses at five different institutions. “I’ll be a kind of glorified TA,” I explained to friends who asked about the new gig, “but I’ll get to work with some cool people.” Over the next three years, the pleasures and challenges of the TA role became increasingly clear.

You’re Caught in the Middle

Working as a TA sometimes reminded me of another job I’d held before: waiting tables in a restaurant. Once again, I was the person in the middle. I didn’t make the food (assignments, structure of the course), but I was the one people came to if they had a problem with it. I was expected to be a compelling ambassador for key concepts, texts, and projects, even when I might have presented or designed them differently. When a class on stories and storytelling assigned Aphra Behn’s 1688 Oroonoko alongside a bunch of novels and films focused on World War II, it was up to me to make a case for this choice to students (and then grade a stack of essays on it!).

To stay sane as a TA, it helps to make peace with being caught in the middle.

You Often Have Influence Without Authority

As part of our professional development, teaching fellows were introduced to the concept of “influence without authority.” While we couldn’t necessarily make the big decisions, we still had space to maneuver. And the faculty we worked with were often willing, even eager, to draw on our various expertise. When a group of us working on “Technological Visions of Utopia” asked the professor to address a troubling scene of compromised consent in Ursula Le Guin’s The Dispossessed directly in lecture, he was happy to do so. When I suggested that instead of writing an essay analyzing and reflecting on the restaurant review they’d written for “The Language of Food,” students might annotate their original review using ten key terms from the course, faculty were delighted to try out this new option. And the second time we taught the stories and storytelling class, we dropped Oroonoko.

For each class, that space to maneuver will be different, but keep in mind that you don’t need authority to have an influence.

The Class May Be Theirs, but the Students Are Yours

One reason faculty were often eager to listen to us TAs was because it was as clear to them as it was to us that while the class was theirs, the students were ours. We had our finger on the pulse of where students were struggling and what got them excited. We knew their names, read their writing, answered their crisis emails. And there’s a lot of power and responsibility in being the person who interacts directly with students.

Even in the midst of finding your balance as an ambassador and translator between faculty and students, remember the vulnerability we all bring to our creative work. When you comment on student writing, your voice stays with each person. When students think back on the class years later, there’s a good chance they’ll forget many details of the lectures and what they read, but they’ll remember how you responded to their writing and how it made them feel.

Your encouragement might be the reason someone is still writing in ten years.