First years and changing my mind...

I just left a meeting with H, where she encouraged me to think about the what I believed when I came here and how that has changed.  I came to the coffee shop to do as I was told.  I've been thinking a lot about how my definition of "grammar" has changed since I came here, and I remembered that when I was a Bear, I wrote a paper on just that thing.  So I went digging around my old emails, and I found someone I'd forgotten.

First-year teacher Sarah.  I have forgotten so much about that year--probably because my sub-conscious thinks it best.  My incredible best friend in TX apparently forwarded me a set of emails that we sent back and forth during the days when I was so tired I forgot to brush my teeth in the morning (happened more than once.  I also kept deodorant in my desk drawer.).  The emails reflect how overwhelmed I was.  I was teaching full time and going to graduate school full time, and the small school where I taught need a theatre director, an academic team supervisor, and a librarian.  I did it all.  Not well, mind you, but I made the attempt.  Jess and I exchanged short emails during our breaks and in those moments when we thought we might lose our sanity.  The tone of these emails is sardonic, but there's an undertone of genuine affection for my friend and hope that someday I might get a handle on this teaching thing.  I really loved my students, that is clear.  They lived in the middle of nowhere, with limited access to libraries, the Internet, and cell phone reception.  But they were bright-eyed (for the most part), and though I expressed frustration at the lack of effort I perceived from many of them (at one point I lament how my standards have slipped and wish I could go back to my pre-teaching ideas of the kind of teacher I'd be), it's clear in my emails that they were my reason for getting up every morning and going to work.  Right now, I wish I was the kind of teacher my first-year students encountered.  One who, despite her failings, believed deeply and passionately that every one of them could be better tomorrow.  One who, despite the constant loneliness and exhaustion, believed she could be better tomorrow.  I need more of that kind of hope, even if it's cloaked in sarcasm and more than a little sadness.

This July, I received my first-ever college graduation invitation from a student.  I was incredibly anxious my first year of teaching that I'd ruin my students' educational lives with my lack of experience.  I'm so proud of all of my former students.  The ones who have contacted me since I left the classroom seem to be literate citizens.  More importantly, many of them are rejecting the limitations I heard people place on them.  I just wish their English teacher had been a little better prepared.  I'm afraid I reproduced many of the negative beliefs I was handed by my own teachers--the ones my own education did not challenge.  Maybe that's where this kernel of an idea for my research really comes from--a desire to give future Southern students a better view of their language than what I got, and to give Southern teachers more resources to teach language and grammar than what I was given.  The constant theme of those emails is that I believed I could be a better teacher.  Maybe I haven't changed so much after all, now that I think about it.

Moving forward.

I have spent much of this summer fretting.  I've fretted over whether or not I'll ever finish the first year paper ("exam").  I've fretted over whether I'm actually any good at this "scholar" thing. I've very seriously contemplated quitting.  I thought carefully about my other options--teaching in Texas for my wonderful mentor, going back to the school district I came from, teaching overseas for a year, teaching at the community college level.  I sat on our couch and sobbed while my roommate offered the only advice she could.

I decided to go back to my roots.  To remember why I do what I do.  To listen to the words, the stories of my past and somehow connect them to my mission to give rural Southern students every possible resource they might need.  To remember that I'm driven not by some abstract intellectual goal but by the faces of my students, the voices of my family, and the stories of who I am and where I come from.

So I went home, ostensibly for a week-long visit with my parents and grandparents.  I had a good visit, then I left on a Tuesday, made it 8 hours into an 11 hour drive back north, and got a call that changed my present reality.  My grandfather was dying.  I made a U-turn and pointed my nose back South.

I spent an emotionally draining day at my grandfather's deathbed, and another six days trying in vain to pick up the pieces he left behind.  I am sorely grieved, there is no doubt about that.  My PaPa ran the race. He fought the fight.  But he leaves behind shoes no one else can fill and a void in our family's tapestry.  I'm looking down the barrel of a long, hard year with more to do than feels strictly do-able.  But I'm going to move forward as best I can.  I'm probably also going to write about my PaPa, who was so proud to have a future PhD in the family he could hardly stand it.  This is for you, Pop.

"Summer"

Well, my winter semester is over!  I managed to finish everything, though I just squeaked under the wire in the Owl's class.  Seriously.  I was ridiculous.  I hate feeling like I've turned in something that is less than my best work, though that is unfortunately becoming a normal thing.  There just isn't enough time.  Or else my standards are changing....hmm....

Anyway, I did managed to write the required number of pages on something like the required topic for the Owl, but my grade in the course hasn't posted yet (despite the deadline for grades to post being past), so I'm a little nervous about that.

I had a meeting with H last Thursday, and we discussed my exam from last summer.  It was a conversation that was both frustrating and encouraging.  So, normal.  I took four days off and got back to work yesterday, but I'm having a hard time finding my groove.  I've decided to use the blog for a bit of work accountability.

So here's what I've done so far:

Yesterday I emailed an important scholar in the field, at H's suggestion.  I haven't heard back from him yet, but hopefully he'll be encouraging and helpful.  I also made an attempt to rewrite my introduction, but I wasn't particularly happy with my revision.  I kept the same introduction (more or less) for the first four drafts of this paper, and I'm not entirely thrilled about changing it.  For a long time, it was the only thing my readers commented positively on, but H suggested, in one of our meetings this semester, that she thought the vignette was throwing me off and confusing the argument.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.  I revised, and her next suggestion was to lose the idea of beginning with a vignette altogether.  Fine.  Okay.  So yesterday I sat down, and I realized that I like starting with a vignette.  It makes the academic writing seem somehow more...human.  I feel like it's mine when it starts with a bit of my life.  I don't know where to begin.  And that is a problem.

So today I sat back down with the introduction and gave it another go.  I fiddled with it for a couple of hours, gave up, and sent it to my readers.  I tried to rewrite my outline but ended up reading the new Sookie Stackhouse novel instead.  *shrugs* This can't continue.  It's time to put my nose to the grindstone and finish this stupid paper.  Any suggestions?

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.