The Odd World of E-School Teachers

At her three-bedroom home in Manassas Park, Wilbourn, 28, a part-time English teacher, sat cozily at her desk, on a fake-fur-covered seat, as she spent the day e-mailing summer school students and grading their work. She chatted with her interloping toddlers and her husband, Michael, a regular teacher. The faint tappings on her Apple keyboard were joined every so often by the thwacking of golf balls at General's Ridge Golf Course.

On her computer, she saw a comment on a class discussion board that slightly peeved her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to reply to a student's comment. "This is good," she said. "I can edit my thoughts."

Wilbourn, who is paid $300 a student per course, figures her family does decently. She reasons that her husband is a full-time teacher; that she does not pay for a car or high gas prices; that she can work two other jobs as an online college teacher and an independent distributor for Shaklee, a nutritional and cleaning products company; and that she can watch her kids instead of sending them to a pricey day care.

"My husband and I don't want to be working 9-to-5. We are doing a somewhat entrepreneurial model," she said, glancing up at her desk wall, on which are posted aphorisms and a self-described "Trini-tree" pyramid chart of Shaklee distributors.

Sometimes, Wilbourn must be stern, but diplomatic, in e-mail.

To a student who wrote on a class discussion board that his parents "HAVE NO POWER OVER ME," Wilbourn replied: "It seems to me as long as they are putting a roof over your head and paying for your food and your clothes and your various electronic equipment they do have some power over you."

Protracted e-mail conversations about grades and homework can be tricky, said Amy Bianco, 40, a Prince William online math teacher, who started in the field several years ago because it allowed her to spend more time with family.

One day, while watching her children and husband, a middle school teacher, tussle in the pool, Bianco sat at the living room table, shaking her head at her laptop. A summer school student e-mailed asking to submit an assignment late because the deadline coincided with a tutoring appointment.

"What do I say to this kid?" she asked. "You've got to be careful with these kids because you give them an inch, they'll take a mile."

She typed out a diplomatic response. Then a couple of students instant-messaged her, asking why they had what appeared to be zeroes on an assignment. "Hi Sarah, I have not graded the [module] 5 discussion forum yet:)," she wrote, slightly irked. Then: "Hi Joseph, I haven't graded them yet!"

Bianco wondered why Joseph had not been turning in assignments. She checked the course's online records to see how often he was logging on and saw that he hadn't completed his orientation assignments. "Before I make a phone call home, I want to get his side," she said. "But the worst part is that I can't see him and I can't look him in the eyes. Here, he has a chance to ignore my e-mails or [instant messages]."

She wrote: "Joseph, I was looking over our grades and I noticed that you are missing the module 1 and 3 activities. Is there a reason they were not submitted? Mrs. B."

The response, it's safe to say, was imperfect: "ok i wasnt sure cus i tried the best i could on it cus i just don fully understand exactaly what there asin most of the time so i jus do the best i can with what i no so ya."

Bianco laughed and chalked up the poor writing to different generational expectations. "Joseph, When you are having trouble understanding the material, please contact us and ASK questions!" she wrote. "This is what I am here for!"

She crunched her knuckles and continued typing her message.