Let me be perfectly clear. I love what I'm doing. I'm surrounded by incredibly smart people who also happen to be wonderfully kind. I spent most of last year desperately wanting to be challenged. I know being challenged is painful--growing hurts, but it's also really good for me. The past two weeks have been a time of real growth. I discovered what it is I'm really intellectually interested in, which was such a wonderful moment for me. I've been wandering aimlessly through the halls of academia, and now my wandering has a purpose! It's so exciting, and I'm beginning to explore some questions that I'm passionately invested in understanding. I had a wonderful conversation with one of my advisors, and she encouraged my interests and got excited along with me. That was a fabulous day! The Bible says, "where there is no vision, the people perish." Never has that been more clear to me. I'm just starting to formulate my questions about language ideologies, but those questions are already prompting me and shaping my writing and thoughts. I'll write more about these interests soon. Right now, I'm more concerned with what happened today.
I submitted a paper proposal for one of my professors a couple of weeks ago. She asked me to redo it and resubmit. The first proposal wasn't good. I fully recognize that. The class doesn't really completely align with my research interests, though it is something I really should be reading, thinking, and writing about. However, my general lack of interest in this field has made it particularly difficult to write a proposal. I busted my behind Tuesday to get a new proposal for her, and I was pretty excited about this one. I felt like it managed to combine my burgeoning interests in language ideologies with the purpose of the class. This afternoon, she pulled me aside and asked me to redo the proposal. Again. I see her point. My questions were too broad and they weren't really clearly formed. However, we aren't even halfway through the semester. I still need to research things in order to make them more clearly articulated. I know this. It isn't the professor's fault. But I cried anyway. My only saving grace is that I managed to suck it up in the hour and a half remaining in class and didn't cry in front of her. I waited until my wonderful friends and program-mates took me for a drink and I. lost. it. I think the waiter thought I was post-breakup. Little did he know I was only post-feedback.
I keep thinking that at the crux of my intellectual/identity struggle this semester has been that I don't know what valuable things I'm contributing to the community. I certainly know I am capable of contributing such things. But it would be incredibly helpful to have a hint as to what they are from the authority figure in the classroom. This is part of the process. I understand that. But it doesn't make it suck any less. My "takeaway" from this? The words of a teacher are incredibly powerful--no matter what level the student is at and how intelligent or capable that student may be. I need to embrace the power I have in my classroom and use it to build my students up. I need to be intuitive about what kind of feedback my students need and give it to them--both the good and the "bad."
I've been lifting weights with one of my friends, and this feels a little like that. I don't like going, but I enjoy how I feel afterwards. I like the way my sore muscles feel. I don't like the way I feel right now, but I know I'll enjoy how it feels later. I'm holding out for that, at least.
