Girl Meets Ph.D.--A Five Year Journey

First years and changing my mind...

2012-08-27T10:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2012-08-24T15:36:00.000-07:00

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"

2012-05-01T14:31:00.003-07:00

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...

2012-04-14T07:59:00.004-07:00

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

2012-02-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

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

2012-01-07T20:29:00.001-08:00

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!

2012-01-07T20:22:00.000-08:00

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

2011-05-25T14:54:00.001-07:00

**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...

2011-04-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

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'

2011-03-05T11:40:00.000-08:00

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...

2011-02-24T18:15:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-11-12T10:32:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-09-23T20:35:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-08T15:12:00.000-07:00

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.

It's all over

2010-07-01T14:05:00.000-07:00

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?

Seriously?

2010-05-31T19:13:00.000-07:00

School is over? Really? I had great plans to lounge by the pool with my Nook (which, by the way, is the best piece of technology to ever enter my life), but Mother Nature had other ideas. Since when does it storm in the morning? Pool plans postponed.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited that school is over and I'm moving in the Fall, and I don't really know how to answer them. I'm teaching summer school, so I'm not really finished yet, and that's still in the back of my mind, but I guess the biggest feeling I have is anticipation. I'm anxious to begin this new phase of my life, but at the same time, it's a little scary. I feel at once happy to have more time with the people I care most about--and frustrated that these goodbyes are so drawn out. I'm still weeding out stuff...packing up for the move into one, furnished bedroom makes me feel like I'm 18 and headed off to college for the first time again. Those are warm fuzzy memories.

The times, they are a-changin'...but are they changing fast enough?

Finding Myself in the 4th Circle...

2010-05-13T17:53:00.000-07:00

It's standardized testing season here in the South. Yay. That's right. Just 26 eighth graders and I (myself? My brain hurts too much for good grammar) in a stuffy room that smells like a skunk crawled up in it and died--for three hours. I decided sometime during the second day of testing that the Rapture could occur and I would never know. Why? Well, for two reasons. First, everyone in the building could leave and I would be oblivious. There's something so unnatural about a silent middle school, and there is literally no one in the halls except the principal and the guidance counselors. I believe there are some hall monitors stationed at strategic locations, but I never see them from my classroom. Once I close my door and the announcement comes on to start the test, it's as silent as the grave. No kids in the hall, no loudspeaker announcements, no one coming to the door wanting something...it's a little freaky. Then I started to think that I might miss the sounding of the celestial trumpet because I was in the 4th circle of hell. Seriously. Have you ever paced a room constantly monitoring students for three straight hours? No sitting. No reading. No grading. Just monitoring. Sometime during the first hour, I felt my IQ begin to drop. I just can't handle the monotony. Honestly, I would really rather take the test myself. At least it would keep my mind occupied...but we're not even allowed to see the test questions, so I can't even read over their shoulders! It's just not worth my teaching certificate to read the questions--I plan on keeping that even if I'm not going to be using it next year! Then I started to wonder who exactly dwells in Dante's 4th circle of hell and decided that I don't spend enough reading quality material if I don't remember that. I could look it up, but I currently lack the motivation.

I'll admit to feeling a little odd about the whole testing situation. It's my last year in public education, most likely, and I've come to realize that, around here, the testing serves no real purpose. It is my professional opinion that the standardized test data should inform instruction, instead of just giving an arbitrary score. The way we test, value added analysis (where we can track a single student's progress from year to year) is mathematically impossible. I think that's one of the most valuable pieces of information a standardized test can give because it allows the teacher to see how the students progress in the course of a year. You still have other factors at play, but it can show some trends in student performance. The other thing I don't get from our state department is an accounting of how my students do by standard. I would be very interested to see which standards my students as a whole aren't on target for, because then I could adjust my instruction to cover these elements more thoroughly. Of course, I don't believe in teaching to a test, but I do see that teachers AND STUDENTS need to be held accountable for a year's learning. The only efficient way I can see to do this is to test everyone. I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is comparing last year's 8th grade scores to this year's 8th grade scores. That's like comparing apples to oranges. I'm also not okay with the great mystery behind our test. I get why teachers can't read the test. Sadly, not everyone is ethical. But why can't teachers be allowed to sit for a sample test in all the subject areas they teach? If the kids know what they should know, and I teach what I should teach, why the smoke and mirrors???

That's my rant. I'm done now--and so is standardized testing! I do think it's interesting how my mindset is beginning to shift from seeing just how my individual classroom works to how education in general works--and what doesn't work--and what I can do to enact some positive change. As I start this Ph.D., that's going to be something I need to constantly keep in front of me. Tomorrow is Friday, and we're moving into the end of the school year. I'm a little sad, especially when my babies have adult-like conversations with me about their future, or mine. I love it when they have adult-like conversations. It makes me feel like I've done something positive in their lives when they come to me to talk and share something of themselves.

Starting Out

2010-05-11T17:06:00.000-07:00

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!