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.

It's all over

My grandfather calls me a schoolteacher. I think it's a generational (or maybe regional?) thing, and it used to annoy me a little. I can't really explain why. Maybe because when I hear the word "schoolteacher" I flash to images of Laura Ingalls Wilder teaching on the prairie after finishing 8th grade. Which is, in no way, an insult to the late Mrs. Wilder. She happens to be one of my heros, but I digress. I guess the title bothered me because I felt it was a cutesy designation for what I feel should be a professional occupation. That's part of the problem with the profession--we get no respect!

Today, I'm rather glad that people have called me a schoolteacher, because it gives me a clear delineation for my life. I'll always be a teacher, whether I'm teaching university students or the children I have yet to birth (or incubate, come to think of it). But it's not looking like I'll ever be a schoolteacher again. We finished summer school today, and it was my last day of employment with the district. It's a sweetly sad feeling, saying goodbye to these four years as a public schoolteacher. The best way I can describe it is like if you had a distinct moment in time when you knew you were saying goodbye to your childhood--to clover chains and dress-up trunks and long summer afternoons running through the sprinkler. We don't often get to mourn the end of an era as it happens--most often we don't even realize it's over until much later. Today, I was blessed to have the opportunity to take a moment and say goodbye to four crazy-but-good years and a facet of myself. It's a good thing.

I'm getting incredibly excited. I received a letter last week from the university informing me that I've been awarded a fellowship I didn't even apply for, so that's good news. The summers that I was told were not funded now are! Hurray! Also, this upcoming year will be my only year as an instructor. After this, I'll be assigned duties as a research assistant. The letter mentioned that this would possibly bring opportunities to co-author papers with professors. As much as I love to teach, it's time to accept that I'm entering the world of academia and it's publish or perish from now on. There will still be some teaching each semester, but I think I'm good with this. I was very surprised to receive the letter, as I was unaware such a fellowship even existed, but it was a very, very happy surprise. I'm still a bit curious about what this will mean in regards to nitty gritty of day-to-day life.

Details are beginning to come together, and suddenly the vague wisp of an idea I had back in October is actually becoming reality. I have a pile of reading stacked on my desk, which is probably a preview of coming attractions for the next five years. I also need to somehow compose a course description for a composition class, which is more intimidating than it sounds, especially when I made the mistake of checking all the other instructors' descriptions. I'm actually leaning toward the slightly ironic, very modern description as follows: "In this course, you will become a better writer." Thoughts, anyone? Am I showing everyone that I'm an academic fraud and I don't belong if I go with that one? Or am I being an individual whose students can expect a simple, concise teaching style?

Starting Out

Well, this is my very first blog post, so I suppose I should explain why it even exists.  I am a middle school English teacher born and bred in the South--in the deep, deep South.  I'll be leaving the land of sweet tea and deep-fried...well, everything....in August and heading north to begin my Ph.D.

It's been quite a year (as a teacher, I tend to see years in terms of school years), and the next five years are going to be an adventure.  I'm hoping to keep my family and friends involved in this process as I move across the country, but I'd also like to open this up to people who I don't yet know.  To that end, I'm planning on keeping this blog anonymous, but I'm anxious to hear any constructive comments!