Progress and Becoming...

I'm wrapping up this semester (and yes, posting on the blog is one of the ways I procrastinate) and thinking about this school year. One of the beautiful (and terrifying) things about my program is that we have to write an exam after our second year that "theorizes our learning." It's my opportunity to take my life experiences and my scholarly experiences and synthesize them to produce the thing I'll be spending the next three years of my life on. It's an invented genre of writing, so I spend a fair amount of time thinking to myself, "what in the world does this look like? Where do I begin?" But amidst all of that questioning is a genuine excitement about this paper that is growing stronger and stronger as the semester draws to a close.

I had my annual meeting with my program's co-chairs a couple of weeks ago, and the Hawk said some really great things about how she's seen me progress from situating myself as a teacher to situating myself as a scholar this year and how important that transition is. I actually connected this moment to a spiritual truth I'm beginning to understand, but I'll get around to explaining that later. I've begun to notice a change in my academic life too. When I realized that I was interested in language ideology and the classroom, I called my dad, who listened to me babble and then said, "But that will make you a linguist, right?" Uh oh. I came here with zero background in linguistics. Zero. As the Hawk said, my interests were ahead of my coursework (and I appreciated the oh-so-positive spin on "you're not prepared for this" she offered), so I've spent most of this year trying to catch up. And catch up I have. This week, I asked a question in class that the prof connected back to a theory of language we haven't addressed this semester. But I actually understood his answer and was able to engage in a scholarly conversation that extended the class discussion. I think I'm getting there. My first exam is still not approved, but once I finish writing the thousands of papers I have due in the next week (oh, come on, just because I don't teach literature anymore doesn't mean I can't use hyperbole!), I'm submitting a new draft. This is going to happen. If I can't write a paper that makes them happy, I'll outlast them. At some point, they'll give in and approve it. That's right. I'm using sheer tenacity to progress through a PhD program. Hard-headedness has to be good for something, right?

I spent this year researching for the Eagle instead of teaching, and I have really mixed feelings about it. I miss teaching. A lot. Even on my bad teaching days I know that it's a place where I'm capable and competent, and I don't feel that way about most of my work! I miss seeing my students understand and feeling like I'm able to have a positive impact on their experiences. I started tutoring high school students to fill the gap, which has given me great joy. They are wonderful kids. They're high achievers, and I really enjoy finding ways to show them how much fun English can be. I'm such a word nerd. It's all the best aspects of teaching, without the paperwork and bureaucracy. The research, though, has been a good experience for me, because now I've seen firsthand how this process works and I'm able to enter into conversations without sounding like a complete idiot. I don't feel like I offer as much to the planning and execution as my research partner C, but her interests are firmly seated in what we're doing and mine aren't, really.

I'm planning a "year in review" writing day sometime in the near future. I used to do that when I was teaching, and it's a really nice way to honestly examine the choices I'm making and how those choices are working for me--professionally and personally. I think I'll post it here, because I don't mind the transparency. It's a good thing.

Brain dump

So. Here's what I've been thinking about.

I am loving 2/3 of my classes this semester. I'm taking a class with Hawk, Owl, and a professor who probably won't get a pseudonym because I just don't care enough about the course to bother with making one up. I find it boring, not because I already know all the information in the course. Nope. It's boring because I can't find any interest in this material whatsoever, despite the fact that it's content I'll likely need someday. My other two classes are rocking my world, but in a good way. Class A (with Hawk) is some really good, solid, historical background for my research interest. I find it fascinating--it's fairly straightforward, and the only theory we're reading is stuff I read over the summer. Which is not to say I've got it down pat, but I've got a nodding familiarity with it and rereading is helping me read dig in. It's a good bit of "little" work along the way, which is time consuming, but I'm enjoying the class and Hawk's teaching style enough that I don't mind. Most of the time. Class B is a class that has, up until now, been based solely in theories I've never heard of based on terms I was unaware were even in the English language. At one point, Owl suggested that we might not want to bother with the English translation of an article because the original was "not very hard French." Riiiiiiight. Still, I've been interested in the course material, though I wish I had more time to devote to readings. Today, though, we did some practical stuff and I realized I had something to say! And I was right! Hooray! As it turns out, if you give me actual speakers, I can say some stuff about language. So I feel like I'm getting my feet under me in that class, and I think it's going to be an incredibly useful course for me to have taken, when it's all said and done.

My first year "exam" is still not done. This is the paper that just won't die, folks. But I think I've got a handle on the next draft, so there's a little bit of hope on the horizon. My concern is that I will get a mental block up that will prevent me from writing this one--and I can see it's already begun. I need a little encouragement from one or more of my readers, or I'm not going to make it. Yes, I am externally motivated. Yes, I am starting to doubt my abilities as a writer.

My research assistantship has been super-busy of late, but this led Eagle to give me multiple compliments in the same meeting. This may or may not be one of the signs of the coming of the end of the age. I left the meeting with a warm glow and a small spring in my step.

In other news, it's not snowing.

2012 Life Objectives

I've been thinking about resolutions (who doesn't at this time of year), but I've decided that using a fall-back to my teaching days would actually be more beneficial to me. That's right. Objectives. And not sissy objectives either. Measurable, demonstrative objectives. I'll bold them as I cross them off the list, because I think seeing productivity will make me feel successful. So here they are, in no particular order.

1. Run a 5k. Don't walk at all.

2. Read the Bible through. All 66 books. (2/66)

3. Pay off debt completely. (This is a stretch, but I think with some serious planning it can be done.)

4. Finish Exam 1.

5. Finish Exam 2.

6. Do 5 random, anonymous acts of kindness. Don't tell anyone.

7. Take a vacation. Don't work at all.

8. Spend 2 Sundays a month doing NOTHING work-related (0/12)

9. Knit a sweater. (I crochet like it's my job but I've never knitted much)

10. Blog at least 2 times a month, either here or at the other blog. (2/12)

11. Carry on a conversation in ASL--without "cheating."

So, that's a good start. I've never done measurable, attainable goals before, so I'm limiting myself to 11. I've started running with my good friend L, so goal number one is already begun! I've never been a runner, so I'm proud of the effort. I may not be fast, but I can learn to persevere. Which just might be my theme for this year.

Success!

I have officially ticked off one box on my PhD "To Do" list. I passed my language exam this week! This, my friends, is quite an accomplishment, considering how long it's been since I've taken French. I studied for much of Christmas break, which is something I felt more than a little resentful about. Had I not passed, I would have been pretty upset about wasting that precious time with my family. But I did pass, so I don't have to worry about the language requirement hanging over my head or keeping me from achieving candidacy--or worse, endangering my funding.

This semester is off and running--and it's looking like it's gonna be a good one. I'm taking three classes, and all three have the potential to significantly contribute to my research. Finally. Classes that correspond to what I care about. I'm looking forward to seeing where they'll lead me.

Oprah, Oprah, Oprah

**Fair warning. I just watched an entire episode of Oprah. There will be emotional manipulation in the post ahead. It can't be avoided after a thing like that.

I'll confess. I'm tired of hearing about Oprah. I took a class on reading practices this winter, and it felt like all we talked (or read) about was Oprah! Seriously, she was everywhere. When we read about race, she was there. When we read about book clubs, she was there (and was she ever!). When we read about digital reading practices, she was there. It got to the point that I began writing snarky marginal notes every time I saw her name. I'm not her biggest fan. I can't deny that she has done some really nice things for people, and I appreciate her generosity. However, I feel like Oprah pretty much worships Oprah, and that disturbs me.

But.

I watched her finale special today and something caught my attention, amongst all the Oprah-love that was the program. Near the end, Oprah called attention to her 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Duncan. She spoke of how Mrs. Duncan validated her--a little girl who felt unloved. She spoke of passing out graham crackers and of being the devotion leader. Many, many years later, after all the awards and accolades, this woman remembers the teacher who made her feel special. I was thinking about what Mrs. Duncan must be thinking, and then Oprah pointed her out in the audience. She was frail and a little stooped, but dressed and groomed so nicely. She smiled and waved when Oprah pointed her out, and I burst into tears.

Yes, I've been a little emotionally raw lately, but Oprah finally did something for me. She validated me by pointing out the teacher who changed her. You see, those were the kids I always felt drawn to. Maybe I'm just selfish, but the gravity of those solemn children pulled me in. They acted out, or they didn't do their work, or they performed like their lives depended on it, but my gift was seeing the cry for validation deep in their eyes. Sure, I can disseminate knowledge, but it's the connection with my students that keeps me going back for more. Let's face it, it's not the pay! I couldn't always give them the validation they needed, and my own flaws sometimes interfered, but if I touched just one child the way Mrs. Duncan touched that little girl in Mississippi, then I lived my calling. I don't expect that I will be sitting on national TV as a shriveled old lady (I don't want to even think about how short I'll be once the osteoporosis sets in), but just realizing that I may have touched greatness is enough for me.

I'm still a teacher, at heart, and I hope I'll continue to make connections with my students. I felt like there were a couple of students this year whose first year of college I made easier. I don't know for sure. I may never know that. I just have to trust in the calling I've been given.

A Cup of Water...

I'll warn you that I'm writing this post on two hours of sleep and more caffeine than the FDA probably allows in a 24 hour period. I'm currently staring at a lime green cup of water, and I'm doing it with dedication. One of the girls in my program (M) just walked by the office where Liz and I are rather pitifully preparing for a meeting. M said we needed a cheer or something, then she left the room and returned with a green cup of water. In the cup of water is floating two pill-like objects--they're writing pets! They're supposed to expand, but so far they haven't. Liz and I have spent the past five minutes with our heads pressed together staring into the cup. We look like a couple of five year olds waiting for a roly-poly to unroll or something. Strangely enough, those five minutes of staring at a cup felt like a vacation. This is probably an indication that I need an actual vacation. Badly.

The end of the semester is quickly approaching, and with it, the end of the school year. I don't feel like I've been the teacher I want to be this semester and I'm not looking forward to reading my course evaluations. My guess is they'll look something like this: "She's pretty nice and all, and I think she probably knows something about writing, but she's kind of a disorganized wreck." I won't be teaching next year, and while I appreciate the opportunities to write I'm going to have, I'm a teacher at heart and I'm not sure how well I'm going to take having no teaching outlet. I'm still working on my papers, and to be honest, I'm feeling totally overwhelmed. One of my classes feels very high stakes, and I've developed quite a mental block about this paper. This is the paper I had to resubmit my proposal four times for. You know, the one where I cried so hard perfect strangers thought I'd just been through a terrible breakup? That one. The good news is that I do, in fact, have something to turn in. It's not done yet, but I've got a working draft. I may actually have something to say, too. At the moment I feel like I'm pushing it with the argument I'm trying to make, but I think it will come together in the end. That's what I'm telling myself at least. I haven't even really started the other paper yet, but my mom is a lifesaver and has gotten me connected to some resources I need to make it happen. I'm looking forward to a week from today, when I can relax a little and reflect properly on the past year. I'll be blogging those reflections--hopefully I will realize something exciting...or maybe just something useful.

In the meantime, the green cup of happiness is waiting on me, and our writing pets are attempting to emerge, fully grown and armed, from their plastic cages. If you happen to walk past the program office and find Liz and I with our heads together...we're taking a vacation. In a cup.

Slammin'

I'm on spring break. I took the opportunity of a week with no classes to do something I haven't done since I graduated from high school--I went to New York City. I love that city. I mean, I really, really, really love that city. I love the way it seems to breathe. It heaves and exhales, and I want to be in the center of the air rushing past. In the process of traveling, I find myself. It's ironic, really, because when I travel I feel the most free of the personas I inhabit in my everyday life...teacher, student, daughter, sister, friend...but perhaps it's in stepping away from those obligations that I am clearly able to see myself for who I am. This week has been good for me in that regard. I'm currently sitting in a train station, waiting for the train to arrive to carry me back to MyCity--or for the fische lithe to fereden me to londe--whichever. The closer I get to stepping on that train, the more I'm processing these things. I should be grading my students' papers while I still have wi-fi, but somehow it seems more important to process this while it's still fresh.

We went to several shows and a poetry slam this week. The poetry slam may have just been the highlight of my trip, but the shows (barring one notable exception--Mamma Mia! is a complete waste of a theatre on the Great White Way, and all I can feel about it is a numb disappointment in the human race), were also amazing. Great art always makes me think, and I've done quite a lot of that in between the awesomeness that has been this trip.

I'm working on understanding why God has put me on this path. This isn't where I thought I'd end up, and most of the time, I'm excited by what I'm doing. But every once in a while, I realize that another road would have taken me someplace entirely different, and I love the thrill of the adventure enough to wonder what that would look like. So, no, this is not where I thought I'd end up. This isn't, truth be told, the plan or intention I had for my life. But I love learning. It's part of who I am, and I can't deny that or pretend like I don't need the intellectual stimulation. This week I was confronted with a couple of those paths--the most obvious of them being that I always secretly wanted to spend a year or two living in the city--and all around me were people who are living that life. I realized some important truths about the state of my heart and my plans for it, but that's still too vague of a thought to even blog about just yet. It's so important to me not to live with regrets, but I suppose they'll always be things we wonder about, things we wish we had done. The reality is that we only have one life, and my curiosity about the world means that there is much I want to do, but limited time, energy, and money with which to do it. I'm certain of only a few things in my life. One of those things is that God has led me here, to this university, for such a time as this. And honestly, that's enough for me right now.