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.

The Thrill of Victory...

and the agony of defeat. This has been my past two weeks. Actually, it's been my month, come to think of it. First of all, I'm apparently bad at this game. I've been wanting to post--it really helps me process and reflect--but somehow I just haven't made time for it. I'll be perfectly honest. This may not be the best time for me to post a blog. I don't want this blog to become a negative space, but it is really important that it be an honest, authentic space. That's the whole point of it being "anonymous." Of course, the only people I know of who read this know perfectly well who I am, but I'm good with them knowing what's going on.

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.

Gah.

I have this student. I'll call him Dean. He's a smart kid--witty and engaging. He contributes to class discussions, sometimes with an off-the-wall comment, but always something that turns out to be productive. But I just can't reach him. He's not a good writer, and I'm not entirely sure he's ready for this university, but I've reached more difficult cases before. I've had kids who didn't have his intelligence or personality become successful writers. Last week, I really thought I was making progress. He has turned in several assignments late, and wasn't going to get credit for one of them. I asked him to stay after class, but he left early. So I decided to email him. Four drafts later, I sent the email. He should be glad he didn't see that first draft! It was a little harsh. Heck, the fourth draft was still, shall we say, direct. He just isn't going to pass unless he pulls himself together. He stayed after class the next day and we had a chat. It went really well! He seemed to understand the stakes and why I wasn't pleased with his work so far. I also communicated to him how much I appreciated his contribution to our class. All in all, it was a very positive meeting. He assured me that he was going to make more of an effort, and like a rank amateur, I believed him.

The next week, he turned a final draft in that can only be described as gibberish. I'm not even sure what he was writing about, nor am I sure what assignment he was responding to. It certainly wasn't the one I wrote! It was so off-base that I couldn't even grade it (I've never had this problem before...not even when my high school seniors thought "Hank the Cow Dog" was fine literature). I wrote a note at the top, asking him to revise and resubmit for grading. I'm really upset. He's the kind of kid that isn't motivated by low grades or pep talks, and by the time I figured that out, it was halfway through the semester and he was already not doing well. I was really hoping that this was the paper where I could give him a somewhat higher grade, which might motivate him a little to finish out the semester strong.

He didn't show up to class today.

You know, I thought that teaching college would put some distance between me, my students, and their failures, but it hasn't. I still take it so personally. I teach. They learn. If I teach and they don't learn, was that teaching? Dean is the kind of kid who needs the opportunity education can provide him, and I desperately want him to take advantage of it. I'm without the "troops" I used to deploy as a middle/high school teacher--coaches, parents, principals...I feel like I've thrown him lifeline after lifeline and he'd just rather drown because grabbing hold is just too much effort. I hate it when one of my students chooses to fail. It makes me feel like I've failed.

Love. This.

It's been a while since I've posted. I've been moving, starting classes, and getting settled into life as a first-year Ph.D. student. Boy! What an adjustment it has been! It's a happy adjustment, but a big one nevertheless. I'm taking two graduate courses, one in grammar and one in linguistics, so I've been pretty inundated with "language talk," but it is absolutely fascinating. I'm learning so much about how we learn and teach language, and much of it I wish I had known as a schoolteacher. For example, this week in my linguistics course we learned about genre (in the linguistical sense, which is ever-so-slightly different than the normal sense), and the ways that we can find patterns in what we read. If I had known how to point these patterns out to my less fluent readers and had the tools to teach them how to look for those patterns in their reading, I really think it would have helped them understand what they read. It's also teaching me some interesting things about how we teach writing, but I'm still puzzling all of that out.

I LOVE my grammar class. I was very nervous about it, because I feel like I don't know much about the structure of (what I now know is called) prescriptive grammar, but the class is really about understanding patterns in the language and recognizing language change in progress as it is happening all around us. I've discovered some really interesting things about the history of grammar and dictionaries and English itself. I hated History of the English language in college, and now I can't wait to take it. Turns out? Split infinitives? Not even really an English grammar rule--it was actually a Latin grammar rule that some people decided to put in English because Latin was "smart." The professor is brilliant, and I'm really excited to go to class every day. I know. I'm a dork. It's okay. This is my job now--I finally figured out how to read for a living!

I'm also teaching one class of freshman-level writing. My students are smart, and they try hard, and they engage with me and our course materials. My only complaint is that class simply isn't long enough! I mean, it amazes me. I ask them to do work, which I have no intention of grading, but will add to their education. They know I have no intention of grading it, and yet they do it anyway. Stunning. I've never seen anything like it. Sometimes, I'm not quite sure how to respond. They're really great kids, too. The writing department at the school is very supportive and gave us some great training...the training was so good I wish I'd had it before I started teaching writing to high schoolers.

I still have moments when I experience what they call "imposter syndrome," but they're fewer and farther between. I've been invited to work on a pretty major project with my program director. It's a book series for a national organization, and it's going to be a lot of work, but my name will be on the title page! I've also found a fantastic church here, and joined their grad student/young professionals group. The people are so nice, and they're always doing something, which is awesome! I'm also (randomly) learning ballroom dance. Because everyone needs a hobby.

Soooo Intimidated

I've been thinking about (translation: putting off) writing my course description for about a month now, and when this week started I realized it was July already and officially time to do something about it. I gave myself a deadline of, well, today to complete the stupid thing. I know, I know, it's not stupid. I've just been so intimidated by the very idea of writing a course description for a college class that I honestly didn't know where to begin. Then I made the mistake of reading everyone else's. Not a good plan. I took a break, but eventually it just had to be written.

So, I'm done with it now, and I'm just not sure what I think about it. Compared to the others I read it's terribly simplistic--no academic jargon in sight--and I'm worried that if that's the norm mine is going to look childish. On the other hand, I need to be true to my identity as an educator, and I wholeheartedly believe simple is the way to go. My dad has always said that the mark of genius is not taking the simple and making it complex, but taking the complex and making it simple. I know this is the first thing my students will see, so I want to make sure they have an accurate understanding of what the course will be like. Yikes! Now I'm getting a little bit neurotic about it. So, here's what I will do. I'm going to post it below. If it sucks, please tell me now. It can still be changed. If it doesn't suck, I'd really like to know that too! The first paragraph is what I'm required to say. Everything else is all me.

This writing course focuses on the creation of complex, analytic, well-supported arguments that matter in academic contexts. Students work closely with their peers and the instructor to develop their written prose. Readings cover a variety of different genres and academic disciplines.

Simply put, the goal for this class is to help you become a better writer. We will accomplish this goal by exploring how "good" writers operate and how we develop arguments in an academic setting as we explore the theme "The Power of Words and Thought." You can expect to complete various small writing assignments and four formal essays during the course of the semester. You will need to prepare some out-of-class reading, and we will workshop our essays together as we focus on revision and the writing process. The culmination of the course will be your writing portfolio, where you will have the opportunity to showcase your best work.

So. There it is. I have something, even if only a rough draft (or, as many of my students in Texas called them, a "ruft draft"). I always tell my students that beginning is the hardest part, and I guess it's true today in more ways than one. This is really my first task as a Ph.D. student and I'm still not totally convinced that I have the skills to do this. Maybe once I build up some momentum I'll feel more like I can do this.