Making the Grade: Writing Papers that Earn an "A" (the D Paper)

Making the Grade: Writing Vampire Papers

Grades. We all work for them, and all want to believe that without any effort on our own part, we will earn high grades in every field we endeavor to enter. Unfortunately, for most of us, it takes practice, practice, practice, AND … work

So what is the hidden code that makes one student paper an “A” paper while the next student paper – for a student who has written from the exact same prompt – garners only the dreaded “C,” and the student learns their work is really only av…er…a ge?

The answer really isn’t effort since a “C” student often works longer and harder than the “A” student. They just haven’t learned, yet, how to write to the instructor’s unwritten expectations. And often, sadly, refuse to actually read the damn texts which would teach them the specific skills they need, and inform them of the specific expectations. Not even if the material was written by the instructor of the course they are in, and can be expected to have relevant samples.

That said (rant ended), what exactly makes one response an A response and another a D response?

Let’s take a look at one of my assignments, worth four points towards a total of 190.

Write a short, think around 200 words – one paragraph -- convincing me you have indeed watched 30 Days of Night.  Be detailed, AND remember to mention director and film title.

Inasmuch as I tell my students exactly what garners an F: they get a list of issues, let’s work upwards from a D response. (Each student response is followed by where it has failed. I have fixed some of the typical grammar issues, and left other common ones.)

 ****

D Student: I watched the movie and I really didn’t like it. it was too dark for me to see what was happening half the time, and my boyfriend kept interrupting me and telling me it was too dark. I dont know why the people in the town didnt just leave, after all, there are roads, arne’t there? And why didn’t they fight back. If a vamire attatcked my house i would fight back. Alaska is cold. I disliked the movie because it was set there. And I really like vampires who are nicer to people and who dont go around trying to kill them. “30 days of night’ is a really terrible film because the vampires are mean. The point where the mean vampire tells the girl that there is no god, made me mad. It made me afraid to slep in the dark. To repeat myself, I really din’t like the movie.

Why is this bad? Can you come up with a list of mistakes? Note that it is a combination of badness that garners a “D” grade.

• It focuses solely on the reader and not at all on the film under discussion.
• The word “I” appears seven times in one-hundred thirty-five words. The word “I” in a college-level response is always problematical. “Why?” you ask. Because we want the focus to be on the item under discussion (and are uninterested in discussing you).  This is one reason why students should not use first person pronouns – in any form – in their formal responses. The viewer, the reader, people, a person, John Doe are all good alternatives which not only tell your instructor you are focusing outside your own reactions, but it forces you to format your response formally. And anything turned into an instructor for a grade: Formal. Dress it for Prom.
• Capitalization is broken in major ways. “I” is always capital – something taught way back when in elementary school. To lower-case it in a formal paper turned in to an instructor goes beyond rude. It is student grade suicide. First lines always begin with a capital letter – again, student grade suicide.
• There is little internal evidence at all that the movie was actually watched.
• dont?  Really? Can’t even see the red-underline and right click to get the correct apostrophe?
• It isn’t long enough – for which this reader would be very, very grateful. Would you want this to go on any longer?
• All too often, a D paper has all sorts of off-topic information. And runs looong.
• The basic sentence structures and punctuations are wonky.

All-together, wouldn’t you be happy this ended? The only reason this garnered a “D” with points instead of an “F” is the one line which does contain one small bit of evidence from inside the film, and unmentioned in most reviews – the “no God” comment.

So that is what the teacher sees when reading the D paper. While most D papers might not be quite so dreadful, a fair amount of what crosses my desk looks like it.

Size Matters (Even for Vampires)

copyright 2012 Leslie Ormandy: All Rights Reserved

A few years ago now, my family and I spent an afternoon thinking of all the ways a vampire's experience might parallel a humans. We figured that if rumor states that the size of a man's hand mirrors the size of his sexual organ, then the size of a vampire's fangs would do the same. Hence, this advert I designed. I still see no reason to suspect that vampire corporate structure would not mirror our own. Sex...sells.

The Grave by Karamsin part 2

Taken in New Orleans 2009

It would have been terrific if the book ELOCUTION AND ORATORY (yes, all caps) had arrived with a table of contents or an index. I would have found the rest of the short dialogue which I posted a few weeks ago and posted the whole at once. At least the full poetic dialogue comes with minimal attribution; it was apparently written by someone named Karamsin. A reminder that it
speaks rather eloquently of the two approaches to the topic of death. One sees it is a true negative, the other sees the bright-light. 



1. "First Voice
  How frightful the grave!  how deserted and drear!
                     With the howls of the storm-wind -- the creaks of the bier,
                      And the white bones all clattering together!

2. "Second Voice

 How peaceful the grave! its quite how deep;

                       Its zephyres breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep,

                         And flowerets perfume it with ether.

3. "First Voice
There riots the blood-crested worm on the dead
And the yellow skull serves the foul toad for a bed
And snakes in its nettle-weeds hiss.

4. "Second Voice

How lovely, how sweet the repose of the tomb;

No tempests are there -- but the nightingales come

And sing their sweet chorus of bliss. 

5. "First Voice
The ravens of night flap their wings o're the grave;
'This the vulture's abode -- 'this the wolf's dreary cave,
Where they tear up the earth with their fangs.

6. "Second Voice

There the rabbit at evening disports with his love,

Or rests on the sod -- while the turtles above,

Repose on the bough that o'erhangs.

7. "First Voice
There darkness and dampness with poisonous breath
And loathsome decay, fill the dwelling of death,
And trees are all barren and bare!

8. "Second Voice

Oh, soft are the breezes that play round the tomb

And sweet with the violet's wafted perfume,

 With lilies and jessamine fair.

9. "First Voice
The pilgrim who reaches this valley of tears,
Would fain hurry by, with trembling and fears,
He is launched on the wreck-covered river.

10. "Second Voice

The traveler, outworn with life's pilgrimage dreary,

Lays down his rude staff, like one that is weary,

And sweetly reposes forever!

I don't think either side of this dialogue really um...dialogues with the other. They each present a quite different viewpoint (glass half-full, glass half empty?) and walk away fully convinced they have convinced each other. Interesting period piece. 







author: unknown since all attribution is just missing in this text -- a very Victorian approach to intellectual property.

Vampire Paparazzi entry 1

 The life of a vampire paparazzi is a dangerous one. What you read here is the first of an occasional series of entries discussing my experiences as a vampire hunter; one armed not with stakes and holy-items, but with a camera. I am not quite certain which my target would prefer, being permanently ended, or being outed to the whole world.

@@@@@

Sometimes I just can't catch a break. Standing in the cold on a dark night in a lonely cemetery when I could be sitting in the pub tossing a few back with mates, is time I'll never get back. The only thing it does is keep my boss off my neck while I risk my own.

Yes, I knew, or so I thought, what I was getting into when I hired onto this gig. It looked like wine, women, and song -- easy money. I figured what with vampires all over the media they must also be all over the place. I figured all I'd have to do was park outside the blood-bank to catch one making a withdrawal. A point and click moment.

Instead, I spend my nights standing in the doorways of crumbing low-rent crypts waiting to catch a break, and praying to see sunrise.

16 May 2014

byline: L. Ormandy (AKA SweetGoth)
The UnNatural Enquirer

The Grave

Highgate Cemetery London

One of the most fascinating things I've noted in the years I've been researching, photographing, writing about, and teaching about vampires is the way different people react totally differently when the topic of death and what happens to the person after death comes up. Today's post is a short dialogue taken from the book ELOCUTION AND ORATORY (yes, all caps). The antique book arrived on my shelf with no cover, and the first twenty-four pages missing.

It does speak rather eloquently of the two approaches to the topic. One sees it is a true negative, the other sees the bright-light. 

"First Voice: How frightful the grave!  how deserted and drear!
                     With the howls of the storm-wind -- the creaks of the bier,
                      And the white bones all clattering together!
"Second Voice: How peaceful the grave! its quite how deep;
                       Its zephyres breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep,
                         And flowerets perfume it with ether.

author: unknown since all attribution is just missing in this text -- a very Victorian approach to intellectual property.

Alcoholism as a Vampire: "The Vampyre by the Wife of a Medical Man" 1858

The Traitor's Gate, London.

When I was in London summer of 2013, I was able to spend a fair amount of time reading in the British Library (one of the most magical places on Earth). Given my interest in early usages of the term "Vampire" for a human who metaphorically sucks the life from its victim, the 1858 anonymous booklet, The Vampyre by the Wife of a Medical Man,was a wonderful read.

In short, the author uses the metaphor of the vampire to describe the drunken life -- it is about temperance and the abstainer's pledge and the lure of drink which proves more alluring than keeping ones word. (At this time, temperance referred to abstinence from drinking.)

"She" (the anonymous author states) "Listen to me, whilst I describe to you some of the horrors of a drunkard's home, and some of the privations of the drunkard's wife and children"(2). 

She then goes on to tell the story of a young man, the son of a drunkard father who cannot stand the fact that his son, "Herbert" will not join him in his sodden ways. In spite of his father's beatings and declaration that he will cut his son out of his inheritance, Herbert takes the "Abstainer's Pledge." Not a drop of liquor is to pass his lips. He makes a fair attempt to keep his pledge and to be as good as his word, but his choice of bad companions undercuts his willpower.

At first Herbert is able to disguise the fact that he has broken his pledge from his poor, long-suffering mother, and his  increasingly pushy father, but not for long. Soon his personality changes and he becomes as abusive to his mother and the house-staff as his father has been to himself.

The young man enjoys accompanying his companions to "Mrs. Grasp-the-Air's shop, The Vampyre Inn, where Tommy, the husband serves an increasing amount of liquor to the weak-willed Herbert. Tommy and Mrs. Grasp-the-Air quite enjoy their roles in this story as devil's advocate since it brings their business increased income.

Eventually, Herbert kills one of the "friends" who attempts to talk him into changing his ways, and he is taken to the gallows while his poor mother weeps.

Like any good morality tale, the story ends, "Drink, Strong Drink! had it not, like a vampyre sucked the blood out of his father and grandfather! and finally, expinguish[ed] life itself?"

I will leave it to my reader to question if indeed the giving in to one of the many temptations of life and allowing it to have control over ones thought and deeds is indeed allowing a vampire to entirely suck life out of one.

Works Cited
"The Vampyre by the Wife of a Medical Man." London: A W Bennett, 1858. Print.

Vampire Hunter pt. 2

Lone Star Pioneer Cemetery, Portland, Oregon.

Part one is the last post:

It was seriously eerie, and I could almost hear the shrouded ghosts tittering as I stood with a bull’s-eye on my chest, heart dead center of it waiting to be tapped.

Then I realized that the sounds I had heard could possibly be caused by the breeze rustling the overhanging leaves and branches against the windows of the more economically up-scale mausoleums. Or perhaps the noise was simply a neighborhood cat chasing its prey through the bushes lining the pathway. It did not have to be caused by the stealthy opening of the metal gates by the vampire said to sleep in the nearby crypt.

I wished I was elsewhere with a reasonable job, but how many positions could an English major minoring in photography fill? And I wished I was outside a nightclub in a well lit area trying for a picture of one of the sparkling, vegetarian sort. Damn vampire, as metaphor, boss anyway. He had it in for me, and this assignment really showed it. “It would serve him right if I got bit and came back as a vampire,” I muttered under my breath, sotto-voice, not wanting to make too much noise, but wanting something recognizably human to break up the silence.

“Five more minutes, and I’m out of here,” I muttered a bit more loudly, then cringed as a crow perched among the moss nearby spoke to me. I would swear it murmured “nevermore,” but that was probably my overly active imagination.

My cell phone found its way into my hand, path beaten from long use, and I checked my Twitter account hoping for an update. But it was all promo by the big biz who saw Twitter as a purely marketing tool.

I was by now really uncomfortable, sincerely regretting the double shot venti latte I’d had since there were no public restrooms in the cemetery, even had I been willing to leave my post to find one.

Then I saw something emerging from the crypt across the aisle from me. There were two; no one had mentioned that there would be two! And boy-oh-boy they weren’t sparkly. They barely looked human. They weren’t the sort my boss would plaster across the front page; too creepy.

And then I realized they were looking at me…

I had only the presence of mind to snap one quick photo as I fled, hoping they would not give chase, hoping I could run faster than them. Hoping to see one more dawn. To live.

copyright Leslie Ormandy, all rights reserved.

Vampire Hunter pt. 1

I crept into the cemetery after dark through a narrow opening between the fence and the bushes. It was creepy, but my rent was due and my landlord was not too fond of people of my persuasion; vampire photographers.

I stumbled over the rough ground past tombstones which glowed pale under the strobe of the moonlight filtering though the threatening clouds. It was a bad night to be entering such a place, but I'd heard rumors through the Twitterverse that vampires frequented this particular mausoleum. And if they were there, I needed to immortalize them in digital to pay my rent. The tabloids paid well for "authentic" vampire pictures, even if the vampire was not the hunky sort.

The skull partially buried in mulch but still managing to grin at me gave me pause; and I wondered if this was the right profession for me. But in my biz, it was produce or perish, right? So I crept on as stealthily as possible between the decaying gravestones while trying to find my location on the little map of the cemetery the kind lady at the desk had given me that morning. I kicked myself now for not having taken the time to figure out the right spot in daylight, but the map had made it look deceptively easy.

I almost died when I heard the eerie moaning sound of squeaking metal. I froze in place unwilling to alert any listeners to my presence, even while knowing that if it were the vampire I sought, my heart-beat would be a loud pounding bass drum in the otherwise deserted area.

Tune in again for the next segment.later this week.. (copyright Leslie Ormandy)