All of that life stuff will probably make it here in a future post. For now, I wanted to share something low-key, fun, and a bit atypical, just to keep things light as I return to writing for pleasure and for a non-academic audience.

In short, a few weeks ago, I was invited by Redfin to contribute ideas for creating a cozy reading nook. The invitation caught me by surprise and, of course, I was delighted to share! Designing is no longer just a hobby—it has become part of my art of living that I embrace in all domains of my life, whether academic, everyday, or philosophical. I spent seven years in graduate school unpacking what it means to design curriculum, curate learning experiences, and reimagine education. Much of what I’ve learned I can apply to design in home spaces, too, where I believe in the value of attending to both functionality / utility and aesthetics / how does the space move, breathe, and inspire?

For today’s post, I wanted to share the full article itself, which you can check out here: Reading Nook Ideas: How to Create a Cozy Spot in Any Room | Redfin (Parent company of ApartmentGuide and Rent.) Alternatively, read the full text below, in which I embed some of my own original images and notes.

Reading Nook Ideas:
How to Create a Cozy Spot in Any Room

There’s something magical about having a dedicated spot to unwind with a good book. Whether you're transforming an awkward corner, an empty closet, or a sunny windowsill, a well-designed reading nook can instantly add comfort, personality, and purpose to your home. In this Redfin article, we’ll walk you through how to create a stylish and functional reading nook—whether you're sprucing up your home in Portland, OR or designing your dream corner in Savannah, GA.

Why create a reading nook?

A reading nook offers more than just a cozy place to relax—it creates intentional space for quiet time in a fast-paced world. It can also:

• Encourage mindfulness and screen-free time

• Maximize underused space in your home

• Add visual interest and layered design to a room

• Boost property appeal (think: staging perks or Instagram-worthy interiors)

Spark imagination with a book nook
“A reading nook tells kids—and adults—that books matter,” says Your Reading Tutor. “Whether it’s a beanbag under a window or a tent full of picture books, the key is creating a space that feels comforting, screen-free, and special. That’s how you build lifelong readers.”

Curious what your home might be worth after all those cozy upgrades? Use our home value calculator to find out.

Step 1: Pick the perfect spot

You don’t need a dedicated library or spare room. Great nooks can be carved out from:

• Bay windows or window seats

• Corners of bedrooms or living rooms

• Unused closets or alcoves

• Under the stairs

• Lofty landings or hallway ends

Choose a spot that feels naturally quiet or private—and gets some natural light if possible.

Use overlooked spaces to your advantage
“The possibilities for a reading nook are endless,” shares Fusion Living Limited. “Even a narrow window ledge or awkward bedroom corner can be transformed into a cozy space. It’s about making subtle use of spots that might otherwise go unused, turning emptiness into purpose.”

Transform awkward nooks into dream corners
“An alcove or weird-shaped spot in your home could become your favorite place,” says 413 Real Estate. “Just add a comfy seat with storage, string lights, and a few pillows. With the right touches, that unused corner can become a cozy reading retreat.”

Don’t get too attached to one location
“My ideal reading nook changes with the seasons,” says Conscious Cinema. “In winter, I curl up by the fire with a plush throw and tea, and when the sun is out, I move to a garden picnic blanket or a bright window seat. It’s less about the location and more about the feeling—light, comfort, and a great story all coming together.”

Step 2: Prioritize comfort

A reading nook should feel inviting and relaxing. Consider these elements:

• Seating: A cushioned bench, oversized chair, bean bag, or even a pile of floor pillows can work. Add a throw blanket and accent cushions for extra coziness.

• Lighting: Layer natural light with a good reading lamp. Wall sconces, plug-in pendants, or clip-on lights work great in small spaces.

• Textiles: Rugs, curtains, and plush fabrics help absorb sound and add warmth.

Incorporate eye-friendly lighting
“Reading comfort depends on more than just a cozy chair,” explains Kaleidoscope Living. “Choose a spot with plenty of natural light, and for night reading, use a lamp that’s bright enough to prevent strain but soft enough to feel relaxing.”

Choose comfort and support with every piece
“A cozy chair with a tall back and an ottoman can turn a basic nook into a space for true relaxation,” says Sarah Barnard Design. “Use floating shelves to save floor space and turn books into art. And don’t forget to check your shelf weight limits—your nook should be both beautiful and secure.”

Step 3: Make it functional

While aesthetics matter, usability is key. Add:

• Bookshelves or baskets within reach to keep your favorite reads organized

• Side tables or floating shelves for your mug, glasses, or candles

• Outlets or charging pads if you’re an e-reader fan

Make it scent-safe and storage-smart
“I love using wax warmers in my reading nook—they’re safer than candles and still make the space smell amazing,” says Bri from Bri’s Book Nook. “Good lighting is a must, and I keep everything organized with a collapsible bin for books and accessories. It’s especially great for small spaces.”

Design a personalized escape
“Pick a quiet, naturally lit corner and anchor it with a cozy chair, soft throw, and a warm lamp,” recommends Studio Ninety. “Keep it functional with floating shelves or a side table, and add personal touches like calming colors and decor that feels like you.”

Step 4: Add your personality

Reading nooks should reflect your taste. Try:

• A mini gallery wall with artwork or framed book quotes

• Plants to soften the space and improve air quality

• A diffuser or candle for scent-driven calm

• Color schemes that inspire serenity (think soft blues, greens, neutrals)

Layer coziness with scent and sound
“Turn a forgotten corner into your dream nook by starting with a comfy chair and a good lamp,” says Living Outside the Stacks. “Top it off with scented candles—cedar or sandalwood are my favorites—and soft textures like pillows and blankets. Don’t underestimate the power of mellow jazz to complete the vibe.”

Make it your modern-day luxury escape
“A reading nook is one of life’s small luxuries, and everyone deserves one,” says roomLift. “We recommend a deep chair, soft lighting, and a side table for your tea or phone. Plants are our favorite final touch—they lift the mood and make your space feel alive. And don’t worry if you don’t store books there—it’s about how it feels, not what it holds.”

Infuse texture and warmth through design
“I always start with a handmade kilim rug for texture,” says Mumo Toronto. “Then I layer in a plush chair, a soft throw, and floating shelves to keep things tidy. The final touch? A wall hanging and a little side table to hold coffee or candles—it’s all about comfort with a story.”

Let your nook tell a story
“We believe a book nook should feel calm and inviting—almost like stepping into a story,” says Anavrin. “Each of our designs is inspired by real travel memories, like our Omoide Yokocho Book Nook Kit, which captures the warm charm of Tokyo’s nostalgic alleyways. We hope every builder connects with a moment or feeling that brings comfort. Pro tip: keep a small basket nearby for tiny parts, and use a nail file to help fit tight pieces.”

How to build a reading nook in even the smallest spaces

Even a tight space can hold a reading nook:

• Tiny apartment: Use a corner of your bed with a bolster pillow and lamp

• Studio: Separate the nook with a sheer curtain or bookshelf divider

• Kids’ room: Add a floor canopy and oversized stuffed animals

Design small spaces for big impact
“You don’t need a lot of room to build a cozy reading nook,” shares RiverRidge Home. “Even a quiet corner can feel special with a cubby bench and a few smart storage pieces. Our Kids Book Nook collection focuses on maximizing space while keeping the setup fun and functional.”

Create a magical nook for kids
“A personalized reading nook can turn even the most reluctant readers into book lovers,” shares MamaBear Books. “For kids, try a bean bag in a hallway alcove, twinkle lights under the stairs, or colorful bins with themed decor. When the space feels fun and tailored, books become something to look forward to.”

I want to thank Marissa Crum for reaching out with this opportunity to share some of my ‘street smarts.’ This has been a fun project!

This post was inspired by a fairly recent interview experience I had for an educational consulting job. It was one of the most intense interviews I had, with a series of rapid fire-like questions, no narrative arc, and little time to process. Did I prepare? Oh, absolutely! I studied the organization’s website and conducted content analysis of their publicly available documents. Content-wise, I was prepared. Prior to the phone interview, I had spent much time retracing my educational path, varied work experiences, and unique skill sets to articulate the narrative arc of my professional and personal life experiences. I was ready to share examples of my transferrable skills and how they align with the types of projects the organization pursues. I was prepared to acknowledge my potential shortcomings and areas of growth. I even practiced my answer to that dreadfully general prompt of “Tell me about yourself.” All of this interview prep was based on my past interview experiences prior to starting grad school and informed by my own approach to research interviews with youth participants (a totally different research ‘genre’ if you will!)—all of which I would consider my ‘book smarts’ approach for interviewing. By contrast, what I will focus on here is the ‘street smarts’ approach to interviewing that my husband coached me on the night before. And this is where tennis comes in.

“Hold up… What’s tennis got to do with it?”

It is fitting for my husband to bring up tennis as a point of reference, for this was the main sport he took up as a kid growing up in Germany, alongside soccer and skiing. I, on the hand, pursued lamppost climbing, forest wandering, and hopscotching while growing up Chinese in Sweden. These hobbies didn’t cost my parents a cent and I enjoyed boundless fun nonetheless. Having said that, I believe there are valuable lessons an individual learns through more organized play with an opponent that extend beyond the game itself to life in general. These are lessons in strategy, in conquering one’s mind, and in staying present in the moment that have direct applications to conducting job interviews, managing stressful timed assessments (like the dreadful SAT / ACT / GRE), and navigating tense arguments, alike. For now, I will concentrate on the job interview and how it relates to tennis matches.

Tennis is very much a mind game and it begins before the match even commences. Max shared a childhood memory of how an opponent team member (who wasn’t even that skilled at tennis compared with his own team members) intimidated everyone during warm-up and proceeded to win match after match because he beat everyone at the mind game. Prior to the official matches, this kid was lugging his bag of multiple tennis rackets around the court. He was ‘tuning up’ the rackets and then proceeded to practice his serves, slamming tennis ball after tennis ball. Everyone was reading into the bag of multiple rackets (e.g., “he must be a total pro if he owns not one but several rackets”) and so engrossed by the sheer force of the kid’s serves that they didn’t catch that most of the balls were out of bound. In short, this kid knew exactly what he was doing: he was flexing big time and trying to both distract and scare his opponents shitless. And his strategy worked. Before the matches even started, his opponents stepped onto the court already feeling nervous, inadequate, frightened. They had already lost the mind game.

Be aware of the pre-interview mind game

I entered my interview, framing it as a mind game. In my case, because it was an initial phone interview, I did not have to interact with other potential candidates. As such, there was less of the ‘pre-game intimidation’ if you will, to extend the tennis metaphor from above. I did not try to compare myself with other candidates based on what I was seeing, hearing, and feeling. All of this pre-information has the potential to shape one’s interview performance and so, it’s helpful to try to zone out, silence the ‘noise,’ and attend to what you are doing, not what others are appearing to do. Optics have a way of messing with our heads.

In some ways, the intimidation phase for me started well before the interview. It began at the time of preparing my cover letter and resume for the position. I recall studying the job description, reading each line of the required qualifications, and feeling my heart sink each time a bullet point exposed a potential gap in my work experience or knowledge base. I had to physically pinch myself and actively remind myself of the striking statistics that women are x-y-z percentage less likely to apply for jobs compared with men (different reports / studies disagree on the actual numerical value, but the trend is consistent) because they do not feel qualified. I want to emphasize the feeling qualified piece, because this is where the mind game begins and where the disadvantage sets in. Many of us women enter job situations with certain internalized scripts and gendered narratives that restrict us. This is not our fault but part of how girls and young women have been and (unfortunately) continue to be socialized. Layer onto this other identity markers like race, sexuality, language ability, personality traits, and so forth and you can imagine the complexity of this mind pre-game. But I digress…

Keep your eye on the prize, one point at a time

There’s an ordinary scene in The Half of It (a coming-of-age film from 2020 that centers the experiences of a queer Asian American teen growing up in a remote town in the Pacific Northwest) that comes to mind: Ellie Chu and Paul Munsky are in the basement playing a friendly game of ping pong. It is through this shared hobby that Ellie teaches a nervous and awkward Paul the foundation of a conversation: keep the ball in play, one swing at a time.

During the actual interview, there were moments when I struggled the keep the ball in play. I remember one specific “Tell me about a moment when…” question mid-interview that threw me off course because I could not recall a specific moment to illustrate how I navigated a scenario. I bought myself some time by responding “Let me think about it for a moment” but an extended silence quickly pursued. And it was uncomfortable. Eventually, I let the discomfort pass through my body and proceeded to respond (swing back, return the ball), however delayed: “I can’t recall a specific moment at work when I had that exact dilemma; however, if I may, I’d like to offer what I would do, should I encounter a similar problem.” I continued by outlining some possible causes of the dilemma and how I would troubleshoot each case. More importantly, I related the specifics of my response to character traits, work practices, and people management skills—the stuff that the hiring team was really after.

My return swing wasn’t pretty but it did the job. I kept the ball in the air and this meant the match would continue. Although I probably ‘lost’ that point to my ‘opponent,’ I did not succumb to the intimidation game. There would be another point to win, independent of this point, and that was vital for me to keep in focus. Each question during an interview is a fresh opportunity to score a point. If we hold on to the negative feelings from an earlier question (a very natural human response!), this will likely affect our performance in the present. In tennis, a single point has the potential to change the course of a match, for better or worse. I’ve witnessed on the screen how a player’s early frustration (from missing a serve, from returning a ball into the net) spirals into anger and a complete loss of control. I have also witnessed how confidence builds from slowly, steadily, and unnervingly tackling one ball at a time.

Remember it’s your choice how you play

A game takes two to play. At least. Likewise, an interview is a dialogue between individuals, a literal exchange of (inter) perspectives (views). And while there are guidelines that the players must agree on, the real rules of the game in practice are more fluid.

There was another memorable moment in my interview. The interviewer posed a question in which I had to recall how I handled the analysis of a large data set. I responded. One point at a time, Catherine! They followed up on my response, unconvinced of my answer, remarking “I don’t see how this example applies to the question because your data set is not large. Can you try again with another example?” I was baffled. And, frankly, annoyed. Here, I was presented with a choice: A) I could play the interview game on their terms and follow through with another example involving a large data set (following their set definition), B) I could maintain my answer and shift the dynamic of the interview, and C) I could choose to not engage further in this question and move on to the next ‘point.’

I ended up choosing B: set the rules of how I play this game.

After, once again, letting the emotions quickly travel through my body, I chose to act on my terms. I respectfully pushed back, insisting that I maintain my example involving a “small” data set. I quickly followed up with my rationale: my data set may not be the kind their organization typically works with (acknowledgment of a ‘limitation’), but the analytical skills are the same and highly transferrable to their work context (pivoting to core of the job description). In essence, I had to build my case, one piece at a time, helping the interviewer see my perspective. In teaching language, I needed to scaffold the interaction, so that they could better receive what I had to contribute.

Even though in the moment, I was unsure of how the interviewer would interpret my move, I am glad I chose the proceed the way I did. It took strength to maintain my direction, and it took flexibility to communicate my stance in a way that they could accept it. To use Max’s soccer terminology (sorry, switching sports here), I had a standing leg and a swinging leg. My standing leg provided the anchoring strength I needed to maintain the course of the interview on my terms. In other words, I have things to tell about myself and you will hear it. My swinging leg offered the dynamic play that supported my movement out of a potential stuck corner and, in doing so, allowed the ball to remain in play. One point at a time, Catherine! 

Beyond the interview: What tennis has taught me about life

Phew—what a loaded heading! I could probably come up with something more nuanced, but then I’d probably lose half of my readers. Conclusions are my least favorite sections to write in both academic and non-academic contexts, because nothing—in my view—is ever neat and can be tidily wrapped up. Nonetheless, I believe I can offer some ‘implications’ and accompanying reflections that extend beyond the subject at hand: the interview (game). 

While tennis is not a sport I grew up playing, it is a useful metaphor or ‘lens’ to understand bigger things in life. What I have shared about navigating the interview in a game-like fashion can also be applied to other stressful contexts. 

I applied to grad school during a time when the GRE was a non-negotiable requirement. As someone who dreaded the SAT, I went into my first GRE session highly emotional and vulnerable. I did not enter with the framing of a ‘mind game’ and boy, oh boy did the GRE screw with my mind! The 3+ hour exam was an emotional rollercoaster as I let feelings from one section spill into the next, clouding my ability to think strategically. I let my stubbornness get to me and I spent all this time solving a single problem in the quantitative reasoning section because I needed to prove to myself that I could answer it with hard work and perseverance. As you can imagine, the heart-less computer did not care and I missed out on many easier problems worth the same number of points. This resulted in my next quantitative set of questions being easier to solve—an observation that quickly settled into the grave realization that I had performed poorly previously. Naturally, as the sensitive individual I am, I allowed this realization to penetrate every cell in my being and the consequence of it all was a very sad Catherine. By the end of the GRE, I was fighting back tears. 

I will spare you the details, but you can believe me when I write that I approached my second GRE session very differently. I brought my full self to the session—emotions and all—but I kept them in check as I reminded myself to play a numbers game: it’s how many points you earn overall, not the individual points you miss here and there. Fight for each point. Each point is a new opportunity; it has no memory. 

Fighting for points is not the ultimate life takeaway here, but what it is is a reminder to myself to keep things in perspective and to keep things in motion. It’s easy for me to get stuck, to become hindered by impasses, to experience blocks (especially writer’s block), and to feel lost. This is true for all aspects of my life—personal, professional, and everything in between. Whenever I find myself at a halt (e.g., a personal conflict with someone I care about, lack of drive to keep going with my dissertation), I pause, collect myself, and take small steps towards “keep moving.” Because movement inspires more movement, and that’s how momentum builds. Part of the impetus for movement comes from perspective—wisdom acquired from accumulating experiences, knowledge contributed by friends and family, etc. Seeing things in relation helps, because then nothing is finite, absolute, fixed. Dichotomous, binary thinking can be useful in sorting the world for general sense-making and increased comfort, but this form of thinking is ultimately harmful to our personal evolution and connection with others. (Obviously, my own opinion and I can already imagine my husband formulating his rebuttal.)

But returning to the topic at hand, all of this relates to “life in general” in that, we always have a choice. Even when we feel as though there is no choice, there are choices / paths. How we choose to move—or, how we choose to swing, how we choose to keep the ball in play—is powerful in that it has the potential to shift the dynamic of the moment for a different iteration of the future. 

Remember this, Catherine, the next time you find yourself in an argument, in an unhealthy relationship, in a stressful interview, etc. 

Oh, where to begin? That seems to be the phrase I start with in so many different daily contexts:
“Where has time gone?” Oh, where to begin?
“What?! You are a mother?” Oh, where to begin?
“Your homepage no longer shows scenes from New York City...” Oh, where to begin?
“How’s the job search going?” Oh, where to begin?
“Wait, you are already on the job market?! Not academia, right?” Oh, where to begin?
“What are the findings from your dissertation?” Oh, where to begin?
“What will you write about for your blog?” Ah! Okay, that’s where I will begin…

I have decided to stop thinking about writing on my blog—a very active endeavor, indeed!—and start writing. Period. Writing what’s on my mind. Writing to process. Writing to speak. Writing to become. If you can write it, you can become it—these are the words from a wise life mentor from my Wellesley days—a mentor whom I reconnected with recently. So, enough of self-surveillance, a habit I developed and really honed in my doctoral journey, for better or worse. Enough of critical voices in my head about how I need to make up for the lack of activity on my blog by writing a lot, and producing some really good writing. The pressure was too great and kept building the longer I remained absent and, well, eventually I imploded. I stopped writing all together.

To be fair, that’s not entirely true. Between September 6, 2020 and now, I have done some substantial writing. I wrote my dissertation proposal (!!!). It ended up being 100+ pages but not too much more than that because I was doing my best to adhere to the 100-page informal page limit (for everyone’s sanity, especially those on my committee). That writing process was brutal and there were moments I thought I couldn’t do it. I quite literally cut up my proposal—scissors and all—took out highlighters and pens, and tried to start again. And then something clicked. Something happened in my brain by the very act of doing something with my writing, of making something with my hands. I actually have a photo of part of this process and I’ll dig it up for this post. After that cutting session, I saw an opening in my writing and I pushed forward to maintain momentum. It also helped that I was in my third trimester: I’m pushing out this baby before I push out the actual baby. This is what I told myself in 2021. Baby Niki joined my world in January of 2022.

At some point this year, I’ll write more about Niki and my not-at-all-inspiring journey of becoming a parent. First-time motherhood was nothing I expected it to be. I was unprepared (and trust me, I informed myself with lots of Instagram reels and TikTok videos and motherhood and lifestyle blogs…). My transition into this new identity was anything but smooth. It was unglamorous and daunting. The feminist in me died—or, rather, I felt like I was going backwards in time, to the 1930s? 1940s? When many more women stayed at home and didn’t pursue a professional career? In any case, I felt like I was in a whole different world, one that I did not recognize. One that didn’t understand me, my needs, my wants, my anxieties. Maybe I’ll write that post one day, when I’m ready, because to this day, I’m still healing from 2022. Maybe I’ll write it in the form of a letter to myself, from the point of view of a mother-scholar, a student-parent, a ‘non-breadwinner',’ a graduate student of color navigating complex interpersonal dynamics, and, and, and…

For now, back to writing about writing. I did produce some additional writing after I defended my proposal in December of 2021. I co-authored a “Reflections on/from the Field” manuscript (under review now) with a brilliant and—importantly—kind group of peers that I got to know deeply and remotely through the pandemic. We recently met up in person at AERA (which, for non-education folks, refers to the annual American Educational Research Association conference), which took place in Chicago in the spring. I have to admit, I felt so awkward meeting people in the flesh, not knowing what to do with my arms and my legs, being so used to just showing up as a floating square on Zoom. But I survived, and actually had a really great time reconnecting with folks and meeting new people. It was energizing. I was getting in touch with the ‘old me,’ the academic me, the one I felt I had shed when becoming a first-time mom.

Moving forward with this blog, I want to return to some unfinished projects. For example, I have a whole tab on home design and there is absolutely nothing there. That will change, because I’m now a first-time homeowner and I’ve got stories. Stories of renovations gone wrong. Stories of renovations done right. Stories, in general, of what I’ve learned and what I’ve experienced as a homeowner, as it intersects with all of my other identities. Additionally, there’s also a whole tab on fashion or dressing the part that I have ignored for years. Before the pandemic, when I was still in New York City, I met up with a former biology student at Dear Mama Cafe (the one by the 125th station). She was studying art at one of the prestigious art institutes in the city and we were discussing fashion (wardrobe staples, turtlenecks, blazers, etc.) among other things. I told myself, after that conversation, that I was going to write a piece about my teaching wardrobe, because a lot of thought went into how and why I dressed myself the way I did. It was never about the clothes itself—it was about wanting to be taken seriously as a new classroom teacher, as a petite Asian American woman in her early 20s. It was about passing and following societal scripts, it was about trying to put myself together and figuring out my teacher identity, and it was about looking and feeling confident, inside and out.

At the same time, I hope to make some changes. Beginning in 2023, I have been trying to be more intentional about letting go of the things that no longer serve me, the relationships and dynamics that drain me, the habitual ways of thinking that hold me back. I’m still working on (and still failing at) saying no to people, to projects, to favors. It is something I want to keep improving at because every tine I say no to someone else, I am also saying yes to myself. And this is an important lesson to learn. I am always still learning, especially as an adult.

On this note of learning, my blog will remain focused on learning (in all the ways it manifests), on being a student, on being a lifelong learner. Still, I hope to also take some risks and maybe venture into other territories as the inspiration comes to me. As a close people watcher by nature and an ethnographer by training, I enjoy paying attention and noticing. Perhaps there will be a place for those noticings in my blog moving forward. I will also continue to share projects I am working on under “Book Smarts” and I hope to revisit some of the “Street Smarts” topics in my draft folder: on moving across state lines, on legally changing my last name, on AI (just kidding, I don’t know enough about navigating AI to write about it, though I recently got to explore Midjourney and, let me tell you, it is fascinating!).

I have more to say, there is more I want to say, but it’s 4:19pm*, and I need at least five minutes to make it on time to daycare pickup without getting fined. So that means, until next time!

And there, that’s my equally not-so-grand ending to this comeback blog post :)

Warmly,
Catherine

*In a typical Catherine-life-fashion, while I had drafted this post in its entirety on May 17, it took nearly two weeks later to get it out there. At least it’s out there. No turning back.

Last fall, in early November, Max and I made a trip to Breakneck Ridge along the Hudson River per recommendation of my friend Simon at Locasaur. We were beginning to feel a bit burned out from our respective training/education programs and needed to get away. We thought a hiking trip would be a good idea for a change of scenery and a different pace of moving. So, we took an early train out from Grand Central Station, where we grabbed a quick breakfast in the food hall (I’m hoping it’s still open amidst coronavirus times). It was Sunday morning and so we purchased two off-peak tickets for the Hudson Line (green) of the Metro-North Railroad. To avoid the ticket machine lines, I used my app to purchase our one-way tickets at regular price; it ended up costing $60 for both of us, round-trip. The train took a path along the Hudson River and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to secure a window seat because we boarded the train too late (people usually wait on the platform 20 mins ahead of departure time). Even so, the view from my aisle seat was still gorgeous.

The first stop was Harlem-125th street, a station that might be more convenient for those living around the Teachers College, Columbia University area. From there, the train ran for a good 30 minutes without stopping until we reached Tarrytown. The next few stops were at local towns along the Hudson River, including Ossining, Croton-Harmon, Cortlandt, Peekskill, Manitou, Garrison, Cold Spring, and finally Breakneck Ridge: our stop. The whole trip lasted about 1 hour and 20 minutes.

NOTE: As of writing this post in September 2020, it appears that the Breakneck Ridge station is temporarily closed, so if you are interested in hiking, it would be good to get off at the Cold Spring station and make your way north and then back; however, beware that this is quite a trek so choose your trail wisely!

When we arrived at Breakneck Ridge, just about the entire train of people got off. The train stop did not look like a station at all. There was no elevated platform; it was all wilderness. We got off, following the movement of the crowd. Some park ranger passed out brochures. I forget exactly what was detailed within, but I do remember a line about hiking at your own risk and staying off the train tracks. That seemed like common sense, I thought.

Near the “entrance” to the trails, there was a map, of which we took a photo. That was an excellent idea and I would recommend doing the same, because at times the trails are not well marked and it can feel like you are wandering in the woods.

Max and I came prepared for our hiking trip wearing multiple layers. I think I wore a long-sleeved shirt, followed by a vest, then a waterproof waxed jacket, and a warm scarf as a final layer. Max brought with him an empty backpack (to stuff our layers when we got warm) and a bottle of water for both of us. In hindsight, we should have packed more water. It was a chilly morning so it felt good to keep moving. The beginning of the trail was fairly easy to navigate; we were mostly moving horizontally with a slight incline.

The light diffracting through the pigmented leaves was absolutely stunning. By the time we made the trip to Breakneck Ridge, most of the leaves had already turned yellow or orange or fallen to the ground. I could only imagine how beautiful it must have been a few weeks earlier.

I forget exactly how long our hike lasted (there are several paths you can take and we took a “medium” length one since Max and I aren’t frequent hikers and not particularly fit), but I feel it took us between two to three hours to make our way to Cold Spring (the town south of Breakneck Ridge). The first hour was not bad at all, but the middle portion was tough as we kept ascending, and whenever it felt like we had reached the summit, there was another summit ahead. I remember my legs aching from the series of vertical movement. There were also very few people before us to pave the way, so at one point, I thought we had ventured off course until we came across signs like these to assure us that we were going somewhere. There are color markings on trees along the way, but they were spaced further and further apart (or so it felt).

Here are some of my favorite captures from the trip. In the photo below, you can spot Max, way ahead of me because I was too distracted by the light and the leaves and the whole atmosphere. At this point, we were descending and my legs were rejoicing.

Once we reached ground-level again, it took another 20-30 minutes to walk towards the town of Cold Spring—a charming little town with quiet streets lined with colorful shops and restaurants. If it were up to me, I would have spent some time in the local coffee shops, but it was lunch time and Max did not feel like drinking coffee. We needed a real meal.

These pictures were taken last year (2019) and we haven’t returned to Cold Spring ever since, so I am not sure what’s open and closed in this time of COVID-19. Last fall, restaurants were already offering outdoor seating, so I imagine that is still the case this fall.

In a subsequent blog post, I will share more photos from the town of Cold Spring.

I waited until later that evening to check my steps. I was so pleased to learn that I had taken nearly 20,000 steps as part of this hike and ascended 112 floors.

Still today, this trip to Breakneck Ridge and Cold Spring remains one of the most memorable. It was a true getaway from city life—one that we both desperately needed.

I can’t wait to return again this fall, probably early October to catch more of nature’s transformations.

Tonight I will write.

This morning I shall write.

And so the days rolled by, folding into weeks, which later became months. The longer I waited in-between writing on this blog, the more distant the idea of writing became. Soon enough, I found myself harboring negative feelings toward writing, even toward “writing for fun,” which was how this blog began. So I put the blog aside, resisting the temptation to remind myself of the last time I posted something substantial on here.

And then my life—a life I have come to associate with living in New York City, taking up space in coffee shops, commuting daily on the M86 bus and number 1 subway train to and from Teachers College, and binge (stress?) writing on weekends that spill into weekdays—suddenly changed. This was early March, and the effects of COVID-19 (or the coronavirus) suddenly felt very close to home. There was talk echoing the halls of Teachers College that classes would be cancelled. Talk became reality. Classes were indeed cancelled and then moved to online settings. Soon enough, I, too, was expected to move.

Somewhere, squeezed in-between all this chaos, was our Spring Break. What a joke that was! It was the most stressful, least relaxing, and irritatingly unsettling kind of “break.” At the end of this Spring Break, which I filled up with redesigning lessons, rethinking teaching, and revisiting learning, Max and I decided I should purchase a one-way ticket to Florida, where my parents are. Together, we called them on Friday evening. The next morning at 8:30am, I stood on my tippy toes along the curbside and flagged down a yellow taxi. Next to me was a large suitcase that I cram packed; my trusty vinyl tote containing my laptop, iPad, and maybe too many books; and a cute but completely impractical burgundy leather backpack for some personal items. Max and I said goodbye. We were both still in denial that our lives could just change like that within hours. We didn’t have our usual Saturday routine of sleeping in and picking up bagels from Bagel Bob’s. We didn’t sit across each other at our dining-table-turned-work-bench, taking turns distracting one another. We didn’t take our weekend stroll to Carl Schurz Park to watch other people’s dogs play, run freely (and sniff each others’ buttholes).

Just like that, Max closed the door to my taxi and waved goodbye, a dirty glass window separating us. In my hand I had two slices of sad looking toast with a thin spread of Nutella hastily smeared within. I had absolutely no appetite. The taxi driver was an Asian man. He put on his surgical mask and drove north. I peeked inside my tote bag and glanced at my own surgical mask in a Ziploc bag. I promised Max I would wear the mask when I arrived at the airport. He promised me that he would find a mask of his own when he returned to the hospital. The taxi driver and I sat in silence.

Today I will share my writing.

(Note typed into my phone, timestamped 12:24pm on April 4, 2020)

I don’t.

Writer’s block (or some kind of impasse)

(February 29, 2020)

I'm not sure if this is the right place to share, but reading "Writing, Life" (from The Hundreds by Lauren Berlant and Kathleen Stewart) created an opening for a flood of emotions. 

I've been having a hard time with writing lately; it's usually all in my head, but recently, the build up of anxiety has spread to have an almost paralyzing effect when it comes to writing (particularly typing). To the point where opening up Google Docs primes me for feeling defeated.  

Sometimes walking helps me shake off the negativity and nervousness clinging on to me, preventing me from making progress. I've been walking as much as I can, more so than ever this semester. I used to walk for sparks of creativity (and sometimes, I still experience these), but I increasingly find myself walking to feel movement—the kind of movement I feel I lack in getting started. Up until now, I've been pretty good about writing. However, the realization that I'm inching towards the dissertation (the proposal) is simultaneously frightening and thrilling, perhaps more of the former. I'm afraid to take risks in my writing for fear of failing, and the consequence has often been avoidance. I read and read, and take notes and more notes, but so little of the behind-the-scenes work appears in the form of coherent typed-out text. I collect and recollect, re-turning ideas over and over in my head, but as soon as pen meets paper or fingers encounter the keyboard, it's as though a switch is activated, and in front of me is a wall that I can't penetrate. It's so ironic that I help others with their writing (and think I'm fairly good at it), but can't seem to help myself with my writer's block.

March 15, 2020 (?) Instagram post on @booksmartstreetsmartblog

I shared the following post on Instagram. As I read it to myself, almost a month later, I cringe a little. I hear my “Instagram voice”—does that even exist? It sounds more upbeat? More pleasant? I guess this makes sense since these were still the “early” days of social distancing? Am I perhaps being overly critical right now of myself? It is a strange phenomenon reading your own writing after removing yourself from the time and the place of writing.

Day 5 of social distancing: Random memos from the day: 1. I had to recharge my phone halfway through the day because I was on it so much (my screen time increased by 13% this past week to 3 hours and 20 mins each day; not counting time on my laptop...). 2. I used the Instant Pot that my parents gifted me one year for Christmas for the third time on a long long time. Made chicken and rice soup with leftover rotisserie chicken. Didn’t have celery or onion, so just added carrots and leftover scallions. Salt and pepper was all I had to add after. So yummy! 3. Max and I tried to order groceries online, with no success 😔 Even after we managed to load our cart with 11 items (not much left), there was no delivery available... oh well. Might have to go grocery shopping in person some time this week. 4. Getting ready to file our taxes this week (jointly this time!). I hate doing taxes but if there’s a time to do it, it’s this week. 5. I probably brewed 5 cups of tea today. 6. Almost done reading Minor Feelings by Cathy Park Hong—she hooked me from the first pages! I’ve never read a book this quickly—there’s something magical that happens to reading when the author’s voice resembles yours. Would highly recommend this book! 7. Watching Joe and Bernie debating on my laptop. It’s strange to only see two people and even stranger without the clapping of an audience. 8. Still haven’t done any writing. Sigh. Maybe tomorrow... 9. I’m loving instagram stories but don’t want to be an attention hog by using it too much (only took me years to give it a try 😆). 10. I miss shake shack and $11 pasta at Bigoi and sipping macadamia nut lattes in blue mugs at Stella and Fly. Miss riding the subway and getting off at random stops to stroll. Miss giving and receiving hugs (Max and I give “back hugs” now. Yeah we’re cool). Alright. Getting off my phone now. Take care everyone!! 

(Insert lots of hashtags here, because I think that’s what I’m supposed to do on Instagram)

On starting a new life

(In draft form in my Notes… last revisited on March 23, 2020 at 9:58am)

I already felt a certain heaviness weighing me down back in February. I had just turned 30 and the thought that I was entering a new decade brought both excitement and a kind of anxiety. I was feeling the pressure from family and extended family members to create new life as my biological clock was ticking faster and faster now. I was also beginning to think more seriously about my own dissertation, and with that came a feeling of uneasiness. Did I know what I was doing? Was I ready? I found myself frequently stuck, unable to write, and shaken by the thought that If I didn’t write, I would fail, and yet if I did write, it might not be good enough and i would still fail. My fear of taking risks, something I’ve prided myself in being able to embrace, suddenly became paralyzing. There were so many days in February when I was in my head and unable to escape. I took long walks, my kind of city pleasure, and they helped at times, but something was still off. Slanted. Crooked. Uncalibrated. 

Rather than talk about my feelings, I turned to writing. In response to a reading group email among a close knit group of colleagues interested in affect studies, I allowed myself to become porous with my feelings. And pour out I did. In a moment of vulnerability, I opened up and tried to convey in writing my struggles. 

That was back in February, when COVID-19 wasn’t a thing in the US. Not yet. And still, halfway across the globe, I believe I already began feeling its impact. Wuhan, the epicenter of the virus, is home to Tongji Medical College, where my parents studied. It is also where I spent the early days of my life, though I was born in a small town in Guangxi providence. Wuhan was all over the news, and painted in a negative light. Wuhan became associated with panic, with disease, and with the “yellow peril” per some distasteful French newspaper headline (the paper later apologized, but the hurt was done). Later Wuhan showed up on t-shirts as the new “Wutang Clan” (Wutang—> Wuhan). It was supposed to be a joke, but it was anything but funny to me. It didn’t help when the president of the US, being the presidential leader that he is, in March referred explicitly to the coronavirus as the “Chinese virus” further racializing the pandemic and inciting microaggressions, hatred, suspicion, physical violence, and blatant racism toward Chinese, Chinese Americans, and anyone who looked East Asian. 

Ever since I immigrated to the states at 9 years of age, I had been confused about my racial identity. Once again, I wondered, what does it mean to be Asian American today? And how does it feel at this very moment to be Chinese American living in the densely populated New York City?

Reading Depression together

Hi everyone,

Hope you are all well and beginning to find a new rhythm to your days. Just this weekend, ____, ____ and I found ourselves connecting through Zoom (after being connected through Instagram), carving out a more an intimate space to engage with Depression. None of us had really started reading the book, unsure of how reading the book in isolation would feel. ____ came up with the wonderful idea of gathering and reading the text aloud to one another, engaging with the shared text while cultivating a kind of scholarly sisterhood. We met twice this weekend, both times in the morning; we read, journaled, and shared moments that moved us, that invited us to pause and ponder, and that spoke directly to us. Though it started as more of an “experiment” (thinking with Kathleen Stewart), we all felt it was a shared experience that we want to maintain and extend to everyone [in the group]. Thus, I’m writing to invite all of you to join us for a twice-weekly read aloud if you have some time on weekend mornings. I personally found it easier to get up in the morning, knowing that we were going to carve out a space to think, to feel, and to move together through these unsettling times and spaces of everyday life. 

[…]

Thinking of everyone and sending along much affection and care,

Catherine 

(Sent as an email, composed on my phone past midnight at the end of March)

(By Depression, I’m referring to Ann Cvetkovich’s book)

“Keeping Quiet” by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
or once on the face of the earth, let's not speak in any language; let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines; we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victories with no survivors, would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

(Poem shared with me as part of a “lifting spirits” email chain)

[…] Last semester, I took a course in philosophy and my professor shared that the word "essay" comes from the French verb "essayer," which means "to try" or "to attempt to" or the way I think of it, to explore and experiment with thinking about ideas. I've carried this notion of "essay" forward into all of my classes at TC and I've personally found it comforting to approach writing essays as experimenting with thoughts on the page. Maybe this resonates with you, too. […]

(Email sent to students via Canvas)

This purpose of this blog post is to share an account of my first-time experience with jury duty, which happened to take place in New York City. I had spent a lot of time googling information about what to expect, how long the process would last, how many postponements one is allowed, etc, and while I had a general sense, what I really wanted was something more thorough. Hence, what I hope to share here is a detailed mapping of my encounters and thoughts while serving my jury duty. I apologize in advance for the dearth of photos—taking photos was strictly prohibited within the courthouse premises. I did, however, try to capture as much as I could with my eyes and to note my observations by hand into my planner.

I end the post with some resources that I found useful.

Day 0: Calling a number for instructions for jury duty

1-866-721-5879

This was the number provided on my summons letter. I called this number on the date indicated (since my jury duty was to commence on a Monday, I called on a Friday). I listened to a pre-recorded message about what to expect: I should plan to serve 3 full days, from 9am-5pm; however, if I am selected for the case, then my jury duty will extend beyond those 3 days. The specific duration would depend on the nature of the trial.

What to bring

The audio-recorded message also instructed me to bring with me a pen (blue or black ink) and my summons letter. It also instructed that I complete the information requested within the summons ahead of arriving. There would be free Wifi, so laptops were welcomed.

I brought with me some additional items with me, after doing some research ahead of time:

• Water bottle (there were two water fountains on most floors in the building I was in—111 Centre Street)

• Books to read (for when you are in the courtroom itself; no devices allowed at this point)

• Snacks (for when you are waiting to be called for a case; no food inside the courtroom, though)

• Charger for my devices (there were several outlets, and people were eager to share, contrary to what I read on Reddit…)

• Layers of clothing (sometimes the rooms are really warm; other times, rather chilly!)

• Extra pen to lend to a fellow juror who forgot their pen

• Cash (for the vending machines and for lunch in Chinatown!)

• Breakfast (to eat while waiting or during your commute to the courthouse)

Day 1: Waiting, more waiting, and finally jury selection

8:30am

So many people here on jury duty. I’m glad I got here on time, which is 15 min early. Went through a metal detector (I carried my morning drink through the detector, but had to remove my watch), went up to the 3rd floor (though half the people went up to the 11th floor), and managed to claim a seat at a bench while waiting for the jury assembly hall to open. 

There are people here of all backgrounds. Even an older cute dog accompanying its owner. Probably a service dog? Anyhow, people have brought their breakfast with them, coffee to go, books to read, laptops to work on, phones to browse, forms to fill out. The people keep coming. They are now lining the walls and leaning against the window sills. Yes, glad I got here early.

Outside the wide window are tall barren trees. It is winter after all. I appreciate the expansive scenery—it is a sunny day and the buildings are glistening. I’m counting squirrels. One, two, three at least. They’re a source of movement and of time passing for me as I wait.

I glance at my watch. It’s 4 mins to 9am. I still have more than half of my vanilla chai from Dunkin’ to drink (this was my drink of choice throughout my 5 years of teaching; I would’ve have survived my 50 min commute in the morning without it). I wonder if I should use the restroom before I go in. Where is the bathroom anyhow? 

9:00am

Doors opened promptly. We entered a larger room with three aisles of cushioned seats. At the front is a large wooden table where a courthouse clerk is sitting. She addressed us with a microphone. She gave an overview of the day, read out criteria that would disqualify us as jurors (e.g. not a U.S. citizen, not a resident of a New York borough, having committed a felony, having already served in the past 4 years, not able to speak or understand English, currently a student and hence cannot serve right now, etc). 

I decide to stay put, even though I am a full-time graduate student. Classes don’t start until next week for me and so I decide to take the risk of serving and hoping I don’t get picked for a trial. And if I do get picked, I’m hoping that the trial doesn’t last for more than a week... If I had left the room (they send you to 60 Centre Street, Room 139 to reschedule), I knew I would have to reschedule AGAIN and that there would come a time when I would have to serve and I would still be a student. From Reddit threads (here, here, and here), I learned it is best to serve rather than postpone. 

9:30am

We watched a short video that was certainly outdated since it mentioned MySpace as a “social website.” It was meant to be serious but I think half of the people in the room found it entertaining. The clerk had a good sense of humor as well, which I appreciated. I loved the part in her “speech” about the vending machines in the room not being cooperative at times and that she would give us permission to shake the vending machine if our snack item doesn’t get dispensed. She also mentioned she would leave a large supply of magazines “for jurors from jurors.” It’s quite a bonding experience, I guess.

Shortly after, the clerk had us line up when our last name letter was called (first it was A to L, then M to R, and finally S to Z). Since I recently had my name changed (I had to note this on the summons document—C and E sections), I lined up at the end. At this point, we handed in our C and E sections of the summons and received an information card to fill out (in pencil or blue or black ink). We kept the top section of the summons “as a souvenir” and one of the juror cards for our record (used as identification).

10:11am

We received a bonus break until 10:30am. For this break, we didn’t have to sign out and could leave the jury assembly room and even the building. For all other breaks, we were allowed to take on our own time (15 mins and up to 20 mins) by signing out with our name and time (there’s a clipboard for this). The idea is that if we are called when we are on break, we would not be labeled “AWOL” (a military term, I guess). I took a bathroom break during the bonus break just to be safe. 

Within the main jury assembly room on the 3rd floor, there are 3 smaller rooms providing a range of seating options. For the break, I decided to go into one of the smaller rooms that had a communal table at which to work. There was a TV monitor (turned off), along with chairs lining the walls, and a few power outlets. 

11:00am

The first jury call. Those in the smaller rooms were asked to enter the main room so that we could announce our presence if our name was called. Some 40 names were called I think. I couldn’t keep track since I was paying attention to my own name. Those called were asked to say “here” in a “booming voice” and to take all belongings and enter the hallway, pick up a yellow card, and await instructions. I wasn’t called so I returned to the small room. Not sure what to think about this. 

12:20pm

The next call happened right before lunchtime. This was considered a “small call” of 16 people in the room. The instructions were different this time. After a name was called, the individual was asked to walk up to the front, pick up a questionnaire, and make a note of the seat number (1-16). The seat number was for a juror box in a room behind the doors of the front of the assembly room. It seemed like this was for a smaller case requiring fewer jurors? Again, I was not called at this time, so I returned to the small room with all my belongings and settled back in. I had almost fallen asleep listening to a New Yorker article on my iPad when the announcement of a small call was made. I returned to that same article, after a round of checking emails on my phone. 

12:35pm

The third call came quickly and unexpectedly 15 minutes later. I gathered my belongings and entered the main assembly room to listen for my name. A long list of names was called this time, and the direction was to go to the entrance of the room and gather a yellow card from the officer at the door and then await instructions. This was another large call. I waited with eager anticipation. The name “Catherine” did get called but it wasn’t my last name. I got a little excited. The call ended and my name still wasn’t called. I returned to my small room. At this point, the room looked and felt foreign, with only a handful of us left. Specifically 8. I was the only one seated at the long wooden table spanning the center of the room. I wondered whether I should make a dash for the restroom. Before I had time to deliberate, I heard another announcement. This time, for lunch. We would have until 2:15pm for lunch. YES! Typically, lunch is from 1-2pm.

Lunch break

The 1.5 hours passed quickly. I ended up going to Xi’an Famous Food on Bayard Street (within Chinatown), about a 6-mins walk from the court building. I followed the recommendation of a blog post specifically for jury duty in New York City (see the bottom of this post for resources). The short walk was nice. I appreciated the fresh air (or as fresh as it gets in the city) because the assembly room and juror lounges were making me very sleepy (low oxygen?). I also realized I hadn’t walked along Bayard Street before, which is home to many Chinese eateries. I will have to return for the Chang Fen at Yin Ji (long broad noodles, Guangzhou-style), which had a long line out the door. 

1:50pm

Shortly before 2pm, I started making my way back to the court house. I wanted to have enough time to go through security, use the restroom, fill my water bottle, and get comfortable before the afternoon calls. I also wanted to check out more eateries in the area! As I was making my way to the restroom inside the assembly room, I noticed two juror cards already in the wooden box. The box is for holding the paper juror ID cards of those jurors who are “dismissed,” “excused,” or “not selected” for a trial but who are counted as having served jury duty for going through the selection process. How lucky (or not? Depending on your attitude I guess) for checking the “jury duty” box after only half a day! 

2:12pm

With only 3 mins to the afternoon start time, I decided it was too late to take out my iPad to resume listening to The New Yorker. Instead, I checked my email once again and scrolled through Instagram. I wondered whether my name would finally get called today, or if I needed to come back tomorrow for another round of the “waiting game.”

Okay no announcement so I read a book. 

2:50pm

My name is finally called, along with some 50-60 other names??? Or so it seems... I wonder who wasn’t called at this point! Okay confirmed, everyone was called at this point. Those who didn’t were asked to go up to the counter (because you clearly did something wrong!)

The remaining account for Day 1 is not going to be as thorough, since I only managed to jot down a few things by hand while in the courtroom—no devices were allowed.

After we waited for everyone to exit the jury assembly room, we were escorted by a court officer to another floor, where the courtrooms were. We waited a few minutes, and when the judge was ready for us, we entered the courtroom and took a seat in a row-by-row basis. Because I was at the front of the “line,” I was also one of the first to take a seat. As a result, I was in the very first row, behind the defendant and their* attorneys (*I’m using “their” in the singular sense here to protect the gender identity of the defendant).

The judge addressed us. We all stood up, raised our right hand, swore an oath, and sat down. Then, the judge gave a very brief overview of the case, introduced the defendant, introduced their lawyers, and introduced the district attorney representing the other side. The purpose for today was to select the trial jurors for a civil case that would last at most 5 days. The judge told us that we would skip Tuesdays because she doesn’t work, and that those on the jury would need to be available for all 5 days. Those we wanted to make a case for excusal/dismissal from the case were told to form a line and to speak with the judge and the attorneys.

There was little time to think this through. The court officer began with the first rows and asked if anyone wanted to make a case to be excused. We had to decide then and there and stand up. Then he moved to the second row, and so forth. One by one, individuals entered the “boxed” area at the front of the courtroom and made an argument for why he/she cannot serve.

Individual situations that resulted in being excused from the case

Because I was seated in the first row, I was able to hear some of the arguments made for dismissal. Of course, I could not hear everything (some spoke very quietly, trying to be discreet), but here are some situations that the judge excused:

• Scheduled travel

  • For work (some woman had a trip planned for Ireland for her work; she did not need to provide paper evidence beyond indicating when her flight would leave)

  • For leisure (? I could not hear this one fully, but I did hear “skiing trip” from the individual and “have fun, but don’t hurt yourself” from the judge)

• Physician on-call: This individual explained that he was the physician on-call and that he had to be available to answer phone calls (and also go to the hospital for urgent situations)

• Teaching special education students at a small charter school

  • The judge spoke at length with the potential juror about her situation. She was hesitant to excuse public school teachers (she said that you can get a substitute to cover your classes for 5 days); however, the teacher made a case that she teaches a “high-need population” and that her charter school does not have a reliable substitute teacher network, among other things I could not hear well.

• Graduate student defending thesis/proposal hearing

  • A few graduate students were NOT excused (including one who said she would be missing the first day of classes—my situation exactly); however, this individual was because she had brought in “evidence” of her scholarly work. I think she was saying that she was scheduled to defend her thesis/dissertation, or to present her proposal, or something of that nature.

• New job/employment

  • There were several cases of younger potential jurors asking to be excused because they were starting in a new job/position and felt missing work would reflect badly on their performance. The judge agreed; she did not want to jeopardize their employment.

Selecting the initial 16 potential jurors

When all the cases for excusal were made, the actual jury selection process began. A court clerk placed all of our juror ID cards (collected in the morning) in this spinning wheel apparatus, and randomly drew out 16 cards, reading off the names one-by-one (and spelling out the last name, letter-by-letter). When a person’s name was called, that person had to collect all of his/her belongings and take a particular seat inside the jury box. My name was not called.

Then, the judge asked a series of yes-no questions to the 16 potential jurors, ranging from “Do you know the defendant, the attorneys, the people on the witness list?” to “You interpret the evidence, I interpret the law and follow my instructions, can you do that?” to “Have you had any kind of experience relating to the nature of the case?” If someone answered no/shook their head/did not nod, that person had to elaborate more in front of everyone in the room. However, for more sensitive topics, the team consisting of the judge, the lawyers, the transcriber, and the court clerk met with the potential jurors individually in a separate small room to discuss further.

By the time this process ended, it was already 5pm. Because time was up, the judge stated that jury selection would continue during the next working day. Everyone not called (everyone in the “audience”) was asked to return at 10am.

Day 2: Picking jurors for a trial is a fascinating process

Jury selection continued for another full day. Because I spent the entire day in the actual courtroom, where cell phone and other device use was strictly forbidden, I was not able to make detailed notations on the spot. Hence, for Day 2, rather than map out my day with timestamps, I will convey my experience more holistically.

Get ready to get close up and personal: Questioning by the judge in front of everyone

At around 10am, the doors to the court room (we were on the 7th floor) opened and all potential jurors and members of the audience were escorted in by the court officers. Potential jurors were asked to take their assigned seat in the jury box and all audience members were asked to fill the rows. I made my way again to the front row, this time on the left side of the room, which was the side closer to the jury box (at least in this particular court room). Once everyone got seated, I immediately noticed that 6 seats were unfilled from the previous call (on Monday). So, naturally, one of the clerks took out the spinning wheel thing and spun out 6 more names as potential jurors. My juror card was not among those pulled. The judge went through the routine round of questioning (same as the previous day), pulled individual jurors aside to discuss further. 3 potential jurors were excused.

Instead of pulling another 3 names, the judge continued with a line of questioning of individual seated jurors, beginning with the person seated at #1. A microphone was passed around so that everyone could hear the responses. I observed that the attorneys for both the defendant and the accuser (there’s probably a more technical term) took notes.

All of the questions were personal in nature:

1. Where were you born?

2. (If born outside of New York): What brought you to New York?

3. What is your profession? What do you do for a living?

4. What is your educational background?

5. Where do you live? What neighborhood in the city (without giving away the specific address)?

6. With whom do you live and what to they do? (It did not matter if you lived with a boyfriend/girlfriend, spouse, children, roommates—you had to disclose their profession)

7. What are your hobbies? What do you do for fun?

8. Have you ever been a victim of a crime? Witnessed a crime? Been accused of a crime? Been part of a civil lawsuit? (If yes to any of these, you were asked to elaborate. If the content is sensitive in nature, you can ask to share in private)

9. Do you have any family members or friends who are part of law enforcement (lawyers, police officers, government official, etc)? Who and what are their connections to you? 

More questioning by the attorneys for both parties

After the judge asked her questions, the district attorney (DA) representing the people of city of New York (in this case, the alleged victim/accuser) was given about 15 or 20 mins of follow-up questioning of the seated potential jurors. Some were specific to individuals based on their previous responses. Others were addressed to the collective group and responses took the form of raising your hand or nodding/shaking your head. Without giving away details of the case (and certainly without presenting any evidence), the DA hinted at the nature of the offense/allegation.

I am intentionally leaving this section vague because I am prohibited from sharing details of the case (obviously). What I hope to convey is just the very personal nature of the questions. Potential jurors were asked to give their opinion, to share their moral values and philosophies, and to imagine hypothetical situations and share what they would do/could do/unable to do/etc. 

The floor was then given to the defense attorney to also ask questions. He had the same amount of time, although I think the judge was quite lenient. The attorney representing the defendant had a different way of questioning the potential jury. I felt that he used less objective language, to which the DA claimed “objection!” (just like in the movies! haha). The judge, in that instance, responded with “sustained.” I personally took issue with the language used, so I understood why the DA might have objected. This particular attorney had very good interpersonal skills, and spent more time building a relationship with the jury. I thought that was quite interesting.

“You interpret the evidence; I state the law. Can you do this?”

This was the statement/question that the judge gave at an early point during jury selection (before the individual questioning and sharing of personal information). I share this now because when the defense attorney asked his questions, the concept of what is immoral versus illegal came up. He emphasized that while you might not agree with something, or feel differently about a situation, you have to base your judgment on the sole facts presented, and whether the evidence suggests something unlawful. In other words, he asked that the jurors put their morals aside and focus on what is legal or illegal (based on the instructions provided by the judge).

No place for emotions (or rather, emotions don’t matter)

The notion of leaving emotions out of one’s judgment of the facts/evidence was also stressed. This part made me pause and think. It agitated me. Then puzzled me. And finally bewildered me even. Emotions were more or less looked down upon in the courtroom. They could be displayed but they should not “count”; they should not persuade an individual one way or another. They do not belong in reasoning, in keeping an open mind, in deliberating. Emotions do not matter in the courtroom; emotions might even taint the evidence. Or rather, they are separate from and should be quarantined from one’s evaluation of the evidence. 

Pretty much everyone agreed that they would leave emotions out. I was stunned. How can you, really? As humans, we are, after all social beings with feelings, who are affected. I guess I wouldn’t have made it very far in jury selection, because my morals and my emotions would get in the way, even if I tried to play my teacher poker face.

Extended lunch for those in the audience

12:45pm: Those of us in the audience (to which I belonged) were dismissed for lunch. Those sitting in the juror box had to remain longer. 

I made good use of my extended lunch break. I returned to Chinatown, walking along Bayard Street. This time, I made my way to Yin Ji Chang Fen. There was a short line, but nothing compared to the line from the other day. I waited about 10 minutes and then I was in! The restaurant was relatively clean with minimalistic decor. My order was ready within 10 minutes. I got greedy and ordered two entrees: minced beef congee and rice noodle rolls with chicken (both typical Guangzhou cuisine). I ended up finishing the rice noodle rolls, but only 2/3 of the congee (the bowl was very large), so I took the rest home. Didn’t want to waste anything!

I took a 20-minute stroll around the neighborhood and then made my way back to 111 Centre Street, passing by 100 Centre Street where Harvey Weinstein was having his trial.

The big surprise: Jury box cleared out for another round of selection

2:15pm: All of us returned to the courtroom to find an empty juror box. We were continuing with yet another call. 16 additional names were spun out from the “wheel.” My name was still not called. The judge resumed her questioning—individuals were pulled to speak in private with the legal representatives. 6 were excused. We went from 16 to 10 potential jurors and so another 6 names were pulled. Mine still wasn’t one of them. More questioning. More excusing of potential jurors. We were down to 13 potential jurors and another 3 names were pulled. Still no Catherine Stahl. More questioning. 1 person was excused. 

At this point, there were 15 potential jurors sitting in the box to be questioned individually by the judge, and then by the two parties of attorneys. The questioning ended at 4:40pm. All audience and potential jurors were asked to leave the courtroom for some time to allow the legal team to deliberate. 

4:55pm: Everyone was called back into the courtroom. The judge kept it brief: All of us in the audience were excused. The judge thanked us for our service.

Day 3: None for me, though serving on trial would’ve been fun

There were 16 of us remaining in the audience by the end of Day 2 of jury selection. Since our name was never pulled in the courtroom, our jury duty was counted as “served.” Jury selection was not complete, but the legal team had 3 “batches” of potential jurors to select their final 12 and did not need a third day of jury selection. It would have been a good experience to serve on the jury—perhaps next time, the earliest of which would be 4 years from now.

The court officer who escorted us out of the courtroom on Day 2 explained to everyone in the audience that we would receive documentation of our jury service in 4-6 weeks, including a payment of $80 (for 2 days) if our employer does not pay for jury duty. If an employer needed proof of jury duty earlier, the employer would need to call the courthouse number directly.

Curated Selection of Resources for Jury Duty in NYC

• Official NYC Juror Q&A

• Jury Duty in Brooklyn

• Sites with recommendations for Lunch when on Jury Duty in Manhattan: The Infatuation, GrubStreet (a bit out-of-date)

• Some Reddit threads about jury duty in NYC (here, here, and here)

Towards Educated Person as Philosopher:
Education as Inquiry into a Way of Living Wholly in Unity and Harmony

Catherine Y. Cheng Stahl
Teachers College, Columbia University

When I wrote my previous essay[1] on Sor Juana Inéz de la Cruz and W.E.B. Du Bois, I recall reflecting on how being ‘out of place’ is simultaneously tension-laden and full of potential. I argued that these scholars’ liberal education cultivated an environment in which to muse, dream, and dedicate themselves to “a life-work” (Du Bois, 2018, p. 178) of teaching. In particular, as part of my tentative closing comments in response to Du Bois’ writings, I wrote:

Educated black folk are fit to lead this communal striving for they have both the lived experiences of atopos and the awakening that has afforded them the gift of another lens through which to see the world differently.

As I revisit that essay while thinking alongside John Dewey, I am struck by my use of the word ‘educated.’ What had I intended? What was my understanding of “educated black folk” at that point in studies? In a similar way, I had embedded ‘educated’ when discussing Sor Juana:

Similarly, in her own conservative patriarchal society, Sor Juana is also seen as a threat because not only is she a woman, but also is she well-educated from “study[ing] numerous topics at the same time” (p. 23).

Here, I connected being well-educated with Sor Juana’s pursuit of a wide range of subject matter. While I still recognize that there is a connection between education and subject matter, I no longer see such knowledge as a key dimension of an educated individual. How, then, do I envision an educated person now, having learned alongside Plato, Sor Juana, Du Bois, and Dewey across the 15 weeks of this course?

In pondering this question through this essay, I draw heavily upon Dewey’s writings in Democracy and education and put them in conversation with the ideas of others as I work towards my own philosophy of education. I will attempt to paint broad brushstrokes of the picture of an educated person[2] as it is coming into view, acknowledging from the outset that it will be far from complete. Thus, this portrait is perhaps more accurately an impression. 

When I first picture an educated person, the following ten thoughts come to mind:

1. Has aims in life and a sense of direction to strive towards them

2. Embraces perplexity, complexity, and ambiguity and perseveres through experiences of aporia to achieve insights and growth

3. Knows how to take things from their surroundings and make them part of their environment in order to support their continued growth and transformation

4. Engages (their mind and body) in play, thinking, and reflection

5. Is able to look at people and events in society from an elevated perspective

6. Has an appetite for learning and commits to learning broadly and deeply to cultivate themselves and improve their society

7. Makes connections across experiences, draws on prior experiences to inform present actions, and chooses modes of communication based on the target audience

8. Is wise enough to know that they do not know everything, that one cannot know anything completely, and that everyone and everything have something valuable to contribute

9. Dares to transgress boundaries setup by others and to disrupt dualities, binaries, antitheses, and other artificial forms of divisions

10. Is devoted to lifelong learning, often through enduring inquiry

While all these thoughts encircle my mind, the latter two speak to me most at this particular moment. In this essay, I will center my exploration on these two ideas—which merit a fuller, deeper, and more nuanced treatment—while braiding in others. My hope is that through thinking on the page, I will approach a deeper understanding of my own philosophy of education—and through that, compose a rough sketch of an educated person.

I begin by pondering the notion of spilling over boundaries. My experiences through this course have given me pause to reconsider the meanings of and to blur the lines in my own life. These include, but are not limited to, those borders drawn between the soft and hard sciences, the sciences and humanities, and, most recently, the quantitative and qualitative research. Each of the authors faced and transcended boundaries in their own society while embracing a “philosophic disposition” (Dewey, 1922, p. 325) of open-mindedness, sensitivity, and responsibility towards connecting experiences, perspectives, and ideas. In retracing some of their ideas surrounding dualisms, I begin to map out my own thinking about living a life of unity, wholeness, and connectedness. This, to me, is an important aim in pursuing an education.

To start, Plato writes of Socrates, who is simultaneously a teacher and learner. Socrates’ wisdom—though he does not think himself wise—lies in his embodiment of both, embracing that space between both identities. As a teacher-learner, he is passionate about questioning the way things are, interrogating rules, and shifting seemingly fixed categories. Socrates blurs lines in that he “make[s] other people’s things move as well as [his] own” (Plato, 2002, p. 14).

Similarly, Sor Juana comes to mind as someone who devoted herself to a life of dismantling gender norms and making connections across religious and secular works. I think about the “total antipathy [she] felt for marriage” (p. 17) and how she entered convent life for “the freedom of studies” (Cruz, 1997, p. 17) and the pleasure of writing verse. I also think about how broadly she studied, expanding beyond the Holy Scriptures to cover physics, history, civil law, architecture, astrology, and beyond. Having “stud[ied] numerous topics at the same time” (p. 23), she recognized that rather than inhibit one another, each subject “illuminate[s] and open[s] the way to others, by nature of their variations and their hidden links” (p. 23). Further, she recognized the ignorance, contradictions, and injustice of the patriarchal society in which she dwelled and, along with that, her responsibility to advocate for “the education of young girls” (p. 55) and for the social standing of valiant, illustrious, and “learned women” (p. 47). To both such realizations, Dewey (1922) might say that Sor Juana has “discover[ed] their connections and [how] to recombine them” (p. 343). Thus, as someone who is “habitually open to seeing an event…not as an isolated thing but in its connection with the common experience of mankind” (Dewey, 1922, p. 343), Sor Juana exemplifies an educated person.

Just as Sor Juana fought with pen in hand to erase the gender line, Du Bois (2018) committed himself to “a life-work” (p. 178) of speaking to people across the black-white color line, which he declared as “the problem of the Twentieth Century” (p. 3). In The souls of black folk, he speaks masterfully, simultaneously appealing to his readers’ logic with words of reason, their emotions with vivid narratives, and their souls with songs and poetry. Among the many ideas that Du Bois’ writings evoke is the obligation of educated individuals to communicate in an "order and form which will render it…most usable" (Dewey, 1922, p. 6) to the person in front of them. In this way, communication is "like art" (Dewey, 1922, p. 6). It requires that educated individuals get to know those with whom they interact and to create an environment in which to engage them in shared activity to construct common meaning.

Finally, Dewey, too, resists divisions and separations by making no value distinction between the mind and the body, the arts and the sciences, subject matter and method, or adults and children. He instead raises the need to “struggle against this isolation” (Dewey, 1922, p. 249) so that each “reenforce[s] one another in an enriched temper of mind” (p. 248). Furthermore, he presents a positive view of immaturity, affirming that children and youth have “instinctive or native powers” (p. 50) that educated adults should not dismiss as subordinate to their own. From children, adults can learn the plasticity of their nature, their "freshness, openmindedness, and originality" (p. 48), and their "flexible and sensitive ability…to vibrate sympathetically with the attitudes and doings of those about them" (p. 43). In short, Dewey makes us aware that each person, regardless of age, has something of value to teach another. As such, an educated person should seek out ways to break down “barriers to intercourse [that] prevent the experience of one from being enriched and supplemented by that of others who are differently situated” (p. 344). 

When I think holistically about the writings of these four philosophy-scholars, the image of journeying fades into view. All four consider themselves living and being in the world—although not without experiencing aporia or atopos—and knowing through participating in their world. In their own way, each declares their “consciousness of ignorance” (p. 189) as motivating their moral “interest in learning from all the contacts of life” (Dewey, 1922, p. 360). Thus, I feel that an education has, at its heart, enduring inquiry. With the thought of inquiry, I am immediately reminded of one of the most memorable lines in Plato’s (2002) Five dialogues: “the lover of inquiry must follow his beloved wherever it may lead him” (p. 18). An education, according to Plato, necessitates a journey—a simultaneously intellectual, affective, and embodied experience of trusting oneself enough to follow one’s “beloved” wholeheartedly. This “wherever” he speaks of is what one “do[es] not know at present” (p. 78) but “shall never fear” (p. 33) and “should always confidently seek out” (p. 78) with faith, willingness, and curiosity. In this way, education is a continuous journey; it is a slow journey; it is an aporetic journey.

However, as both Socrates and Dewey remind us, an education is not something we receive through “an affair of ‘telling’ and being told” (Dewey, 1922, p. 38). This point recalls for me the opening of Meno, in which the young man poses the request “Can you tell me, Socrates, can virtue be taught?” (Plato, 2002, p. 59). Rather than provide a direct reply, Socrates humbly acknowledges his “complete ignorance” (Plato, 2002, p. 60) and invites Meno to join him in inquiring into virtue. What their dialogue teaches us is that, far from something that is handed directly, "education is development" (Dewey, 1922, p. 49). Besides that, it necessitates a “sharing of purposes” (Dewey, 1922, p. 5) among a community of learners.

Thus far, I have come to the understanding that an education is not a thing one receives, but rather a slow journey in and of itself. If so, is ‘educated’ also not what one is? Is educated what a person becomes through an “active and constructive process" (Dewey, 1922, p. 38) of joining thought with action? That is, might becoming educated be "one of continual reorganizing, reconstructing, [and] transforming" (Dewey, 1922, p. 50) of the individual? I trust that is so. The way I see it now, becoming educated is a “fostering, a nurturing, [and] a cultivating process” (Dewey, 1922, p. 10) that is always unfolding and never complete. It is a process of continuously joining increasingly more elements together into a shifting assemblage of many moving, growing, breathing parts—all working synergistically to contribute to a whole. It is through one’s education that one ponders more about the connectivity of oneself to the world and to its various phenomena. With this idea of education, it becomes easier to contextualize Sor Juana’s strong “desiring to know” (p. 27), to understand how “not studying has never been restful” for her (p. 27), and to grasp why she “suffered this labor [of self-education] happily for [her] love of learning” (Cruz, 1997, p. 17).

While each person’s journey will be different—just as the four authors’ journeys were—and although many aspects of an education are uncertain, what unites us is the recognition that a person is always changed through their education. Even if they appear to have circled back to the beginning, they have, in fact, moved or, perhaps more precisely, been guided into a “world of thought” where they can grow “in body and soul” (Du Bois, 2018, p. 175) and work to bring out their “special powers” (Dewey, 1922, p. 248). Although their inquiry may inevitably involve experiences of aporia, it, too, opens up the possibilities for imagination, admiration, and joy.

On this note of inquiry and its connection to admiration, I cannot help but think back to Sor Juana and the ways she navigated her aporetic conditions into a “workable equilibrium” (Du Bois, 2018, p. 72). Even when she was forbidden to study, she found ways around reading books, turning instead to observation, reflection, and meditation of even the most trivial details. She writes most honestly and perceptibly:

I saw and admired all things; so that even the very persons with whom I spoke, and the things they said, were cause for a thousand meditations…This manner of reflection has always been my habit… And pursuing the manner of my cogitations, I tell you that this process is so continuous in me that I have no need for books. (Cruz, 1997, pp. 41–43)

What Sor Juana appears to articulate here is how the conjoined activities of observing, conversing, and reflection enabled her to experience the “aesthetic quality” (Dewey, 1922, p. 249) of even the simplest interactions in life. These experiences helped facilitate an appreciation—or “a heightened realization of meaning” (Dewey, 1922, p. 249)—of all things in her world. I also believe that through her enduring observation and introspection, she has moved, despite remaining in the same convent. She is changed because the experiences of her education are now a part of her, as experience cannot be taken away. Thus, taken together, becoming educated necessitates inquiring alongside others, whose “various interests may reenforce and play into” (p. 249) our own; inquiring with materials to experience our entanglements with “all the things that God had wrought” (Cruz, 1997, p. 39); and inquiring into oneself through self-reflection to “increase the experienced content of life itself” (Dewey, 1922, p. 243).

While I am generally content with this picture of an educated individual so far, I cannot help but wonder about how play and joy might surface. I am reminded of a line from Dewey’s (1922) chapter on play and work: “When children have a chance at physical activities which bring their natural impulses into play, going to school is a joy” (p. 194). I am both struck by and stuck on the word “play” in this context. It seems to me that play is an extension of inquiry in the direction of joy and imagination. Dewey writes that “play is free, plastic” (p. 203) and that those who play are not merely doing something physical, but “trying to do or effect something” (p. 203) in a purposeful way that is intrinsically satisfying. Hence, play seems essential to “keep alive a creative and constructive attitude” (p. 197), just as reflection supports appreciation and meaning-making. This leads me to contend that play is an intimate part of living life wholly and is, therefore, fundamental to growing as an educated person. Play, in this context, is not confined to children. Play is timeless. Playing is about actively seeking out ways of bringing out one’s “natural impulses” (p. 248), uniting the mind and body for the “unity and integrity of experience” (p. 248), and embracing the “attitude of prizing a thing, finding it worth while” (p. 249). Together, Dewey inspires me to consider whether both the meaning and journey of becoming educated are anchored in how an individual chooses to lead their life.

It is with this notion of different ways of leading one’s life that I move towards my final consideration. With the statement, “philosophy is the theory of education as a deliberately conducted practice” (p. 332), Dewey (1922) concludes his chapter titled Philosophy of education. I found myself fixated on his assertion, returning the idea in my head in a multitude of iterations. I thought back to how Socrates embodied a “fundamental disposition toward the world” (p. 327) of a “love of wisdom” (Dewey, 1922, p. 189) and as a “genuine lover of learning” (Plato, 2002, p. 122). As such, inquiry was a way of life that he shared freely with anyone who wished to join. Socrates’ disposition is thus his philosophy. His embodied philosophy connects to my own understanding of philosophy prior to enrolling in this course. At that time, I regarded philosophy as a ‘love of knowledge’ in the most—dare I say it—superficial or artificial sense of that phrase. It was a phrase I had been taught directly as a child (along with biology as ‘study of life’), and so while that phrase remains engrained in my mind, the idea of philosophy never carried much meaningful for me until now.

As I ponder how one may go from an understanding of ‘love of knowledge’ to “the theory of education,” I will attempt to briefly articulate some of my thinking. I begin with asking myself why the word ‘love’? Love, to me, is something both deep and enduring and different from passion. How, then, does one make this love enduring? From Sor Juana, I have learned the value of freeing one’s mind, following wonder, and understanding oneself. Sor Juana’s writing continues to inspire me to be one with my own “clumsy pen” (p. 3), even when I find myself at times “liv[ing] in many different zones” (Cruz, 1997, p. 143). From Plato and Dewey, I have learned that it is through thoughtful inquiry—or through the constant reflective practice of thinking—that one will continue to love. What about the second part of philosophy: wisdom? What is wisdom? I think about wisdom now as coming from experience and from knowing, in the broadest sense of that word. One knows and learns to know through learning in different environments, often guided by a teacher, by experiences, and through forging connections. Joined together then, ‘philosophy’ is thinking about, wrestling with, and imagining how to know and experience our world more fully, completely, and deeply—a world that includes us. Becoming an educated person, in this light, is thus becoming a philosopher in mind, body, and soul. As a philosopher, an educated person is a thinker, doer, and believer in “gather[ing] together the varied details of the world and of life into a single inclusive whole” to “achiev[e] a wisdom which would influence the conduct of life” (Dewey, 1922, p. 324).  

On paper, it seems I have arrived at my image of an educated person. Still, I am mindful that even after engaging in this semester-long inquiry and having taken a deep, thoughtful dive into the many ideas that first came to mind, I do not have a comprehensive or definitive grasp of education. Nevertheless, I know that fundamentally, education is not ready-made, just as the self is not. I also know that an education is in continuous formation, and that the “self is found in that work” (p. 352) of “continual beginning afresh” (Dewey, 1922, p. 360). That is, as I continue to grow, so will my understanding of education expand, stretch, and shift as we inform and transform one another. My own education thus far has afforded me with an elevated vision to see that there is more to uncover, recover, and discover about an education—particularly my own. Thus, in this way, an educated person does not remain “still.” I do not mean lack of stillness in the sense of nervousness, uncertainty, or distraction, but rather in a way that suggests purposeful movement, fluid curiosities, and becoming potential. I argue that when one truly “knows what he is about” (Dewey, 1922 p. 340), one recognizes the “movement of power within” (Du Bois, 2018, p. 177) one’s soul and learns to embody a way of living that “join[s] together [experiences] with admirable unity and harmony” (Cruz, 1997, p. 23). This active knowing, this continuous introspection, and this connected way of living in the world all characterize the slow work of an education. Taken together, then, my inquiry into the meaning of an education seems to lead me back to one of Dewey’s final assertions that “education is such a life” (p. 360). That is to say, education is a way of living in which one continuously strives towards achieving “a better and truer self” (Du Bois, 2018, p. 7). To learn to always be in touch with the world is, for me right now, my own philosophy of education.

Endnotes

[1] “Toward an art of living: Sor Juana and Du Bois on atopos and the transformative potential of a liberal education”

[2] Throughout the essay, I will be using third person pronouns—they, them, theirs—in the singular form when contemplating the picture of an educated person.

References

Cruz, S. J. I. de la. (1997). Poems, protest, and a dream: Selected writings (M. S. Peden, Trans.). New York, NY: Penguin Classics.

Dewey, J. (1922). Democracy and education: An introduction to the philosophy of education. New York: Macmillan.

Du Bois, W. E. B. (2018). The souls of black folk. New York, NY: Penguin Books.

Plato. (2002). Five dialogues (2nd ed.; G. M. A. Grube, Trans.). Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

I want to give an extra special thanks to the following people: Mom and Dad for serving as my first and lifelong teachers through the good and the bad times in my life; Mrs. Whittaker (I never did learn your first name) for your patience and care in teaching me English when I moved to the U.S. at age 9 and helping me earn a “6” (out of 6) on the state writing test in 4th grade; Stephanie Bertenshaw, Dawn DeMeo, and the late Megumi Yamamoto for your kindness, guidance, and wisdom—which helped me cope and reflect on what was perhaps the most difficult stage of my life (i.e., high school); Kimberly O’Donnell, Didem Vardar-Ulu, and Ken Hawes for the varied opportunities that you made possible for me in the field of education through not only your letters of recommendation but also your belief in me through my five (!) years at Wellesley; Julie McTague and JT Schemm for your caring, loving, and inspiring mentorship through my first five years of teaching high school science (I continue to look up to you both!); and Nancy Lesko, Haeny Yoon, and Celia Oyler for your formal and informal advisement during the foundational years of my doctoral studies. What an education I've had in the these 29 years (as of 2019)!

Teacher as Learner, Guide, and Caregiver:
Moving from Teaching as a Profession to a Holistic View of Teaching

Catherine Y. Cheng Stahl
Teachers College, Columbia University

There are few moments in Plato’s writings when Socrates is not portrayed as a complex, often ambiguous figure. For one, Socrates rarely explicitly states what something is or is not, without first engaging in discourse. He also seldom arrives at or helps another reach a definite answer. It is against this backdrop that I find this statement most striking: “I have never been anyone’s teacher…I never promised to teach…anything and have not done so” (p. 37, 33a-b). By explicitly stating that he is not a teacher, Socrates destabilizes our understanding of who a teacher is. His proclamation jolts us into a state of puzzlement and intrigue, for in many ways he exemplifies the values and demonstrates the actions we associate with good teaching.

It is precisely the lack of ambiguity in his statement that forced me to take pause and ask myself, “Socrates is a teacher, is he not?” On the surface, this question appears to be quite straightforward. It even resembles many of the guiding questions Socrates asks his interlocutors to inquire about piety, love, virtue, and immortality. Upon closer examination, however, I realize that the question is actually deceptively simple. In pondering this question, I find myself asking a series of questions—many of which invite me to recollect my own experiences as a teacher, to revisit memories of my fondest teachers, and to reconsider who a teacher is.

Thus, I see this essay as an opportunity to reevaluate my understandings of what makes someone a teacher. I draw inspiration from Anna Gibbs (2015), who writes that writing is “a mode of inquiry in its own right” (p. 222). Recognizing writing as “a process, implicitly dialogical, in conversation with the world, with other writing, and, reflexively, with itself” (Gibbs, 2015, p. 224), I employ writing as a way to gain entry into and to get in touch with my own thinking surrounding teaching, learning, and the pursuit of an education. In responding to the question, “Is Socrates a teacher?” I wish to pose three of my own: First, might a teacher be a learner? Second, is a teacher also a guide? Finally, should a teacher be a caregiver?

I begin by pondering whether a teacher is simultaneously a learner. In Plato’s dialogues, Socrates exhibits a deep love of learning—a kind of life-long learning that underscores inquiry as an art of living. This is exemplified by a prominent line: “As it is, the lover of inquiry must follow his beloved wherever it may lead him.” (p. 18, 14c). This “wherever” that he speaks of refers to what “you do not know at present…that you should always confidently seek out” (p. 78, 86b). What Socrates provides his interlocutors is perhaps best characterized as an approach to experiencing the world through sustained investigation. At its core, this art of living entails boldly embracing the unknown, accompanied by a willingness—and a curiosity—to engage in discourse, not to arrive at a single understanding but to approach deeper understanding. With this art comes an eagerness to trouble seemingly fixed categories, to interrogate rules, and to question the way things are. Indeed, it is through inquiry with others that Socrates shows how “arguments seem to move about instead of staying put” (p. 19, 15b).

Just as arguments can shift, so, too, can people’s way of thinking. What I find especially admirable about Socrates is his self-effacing nature. Despite his wisdom, he does not claim to know more than others. Quite the contrary, he reminds us that “I myself do not have the answer when I perplex others” (p. 70, 80c-d) and that “the need for education applies to me as well as to you [Alcibiades]—we’re in the same condition” (p. 581, 124c). Here, we see the traditional roles of teacher and learner challenged. Socrates, I would argue, is more of a teacher-learner in that he approaches each conversation with a readiness to learn while assuming that his interlocutors have valuable knowledge to contribute. For example, to “learn from you the nature of the pious and the impious” (p. 20, 15e) is precisely the reason Socrates seeks out Euthyphro after having been accused of impiety. Ironically, in that dialogue, it is Euthyphro who eventually learns through Socrates’ questioning that he has more to learn about piety himself. Unlike Socrates, however, he is not of the opinion that “I can make other people’s things move as well as my own” (p. 14, 11d). Instead of confronting his apparent ignorance regarding piety and welcoming the possibility of transformation, Euthyphro leaves Socrates to press on with the inquiry by himself. 

By viewing teachers as learners, I begin to understand why Socrates might have wanted to distance himself from the Sophists—the “professional teachers” who are regularly referenced. Socrates as a teacher-learner stands in stark contrast to those who charge a fee for “mak[ing] people clever speakers” (p. 87, 95c). Teaching, in this light, is highly transactional; in exchange for payment, the Sophists instruct young men in the art of rhetoric, so that they may gain power and fame through the sound of their voices and the impact of their words. Whereas the Sophists ask for payment, Socrates readily shares what he thinks, “not only without charging a fee but even glad to reward anyone who is willing to listen” (p. 4, 3d). In this way, Socrates’ conception of teaching can be seen as devoted service.

On this mention of service, I wish to transition to my second question and to think through the concept of teacher-as-guide. I begin by referring to a quote in a later dialogue: “I believe myself to be a fellow servant…dedicated to the same god” (p. 123, 85b). This quote reveals teaching as a humble service that one commits to, with body and soul, rather than as a financial transaction that exploits the vulnerability and greed of young men. Unlike the Sophists, Socrates goes great lengths to engage interlocutors in discourse, hoping to initiate them into a community of learners committed to attaining an education through active, dialogic participation. As an enduring member in this community, he serves the role of a teacher-guide (per Dr. Avi Mintz), who guides learners to experience—emotionally, cognitively, and physically—their recollection of knowledge. This is most evident in “Phaedo,” in which Socrates shares his final moments of life with his pupils, working through the question of a soul’s immortality.

This concept of teacher-as-guide also surfaces when Socrates involves a slave boy in discussing geometry—a topic the boy believes he has little knowledge of—and encourages him to “answer what you think” (p. 74, 83d). Here, Socrates assumes competence, working from the premise that each person (including a slave) has knowledge that can be recollected with good questioning. The role of a teacher, then, is “not teach him…and explain things to him” in the sophist sense, but “do nothing more than ask questions…and he will come out of his perplexity while searching along” (p. 75, 84c-d) with the teacher. Taken together, a teacher is someone who helps an individual realize what he does not yet know and to guide him in finding a path around the unknown without “think[ing] himself at a loss” (p. 75, 74b). In this way, a teacher-as-guide has the duty to provide an environment to support learners in taking an active role in their own education. It is in this environment where teacher and learners can engage in collective aporia with care.

It is with this notion of care that I wish to consider my final question: Are teachers also caregivers? In thinking about caring, I gravitate toward a line in which Socrates says, “I was always concerned with you…like a father or an elder brother” (p. 35, 31b). The concern that Socrates shows those in his community rivals that for his own family. This concern for others also manifests itself in Socrates’ pedagogical sensitivity—a characteristic that allows him to better engage his interlocutors and help them through aporetic moments to cultivate self-knowledge and gain self-awareness. It is his sensitivity that earns him the admiration of his pupils. In the process of trying to prove the existence of the soul after death, Phaedo, Simmias, and Cebes find themselves in a state of confusion, doubt, and uncertainty. As a compassionate figure displaying acute sensitivity, Socrates was not only “aware of the effect the discussion had” on the young men, but also responded in a “pleasant, kind, and admiring way” that “healed [their] distress…recalled [them] from [their] flight and defeat and turned [them] to join him in the examination of their argument” (p. 126, 89a). With this heartwarming scene, we are reminded of the need for teachers to attune to the affective dimensions of teaching and to attend to the emotional needs of students. In his final moments of life, Socrates says to his students, “tak[e] good care of your own selves in whatever you do…if you neglect your own selves…you will achieve nothing” (p. 151, 115b-c). Once more, we hear from Socrates that exercising self-care is at the heart of educating oneself—a process one must take up in his own way.

All my thinking thus far, while inspiring new lines of flight, has also helped to sediment one idea, which is that who a teacher is is one worth interrogating further through sustained inquiry. Engaging in this idea through my writing has led me to wonder more about the goals and curricula of teacher education programs and whether they embrace the kind of inquiry, mentorship, and care that Socrates cultivates. In particular, I wonder how Socrates would evaluate the readiness of a prospective teacher to teach. I lay out my emergent thinking surrounding the “Socratic teacher” in the remaining section of this essay.

To begin, Socratic teachers admit openly that they do not have all the answers and embrace the statement, “I shall never fear or avoid things of which I do not know,” (p. 33, 29c). In other words, teachers should not see themselves as all-knowing Sophists, who pass on discrete packets of knowledge to students as if depositing money into an empty bank account. This way of teaching—if it can be called teaching at all—allows for little openness, even less creativity to explore one’s own thinking, and no space for working through aporetic experiences. It is doubtful whether students truly learn to appreciate and value their education, for this method demands little of their active participation in cultivating their soul. To this “banking model” of instruction, Socrates would likely caution that there is little value, for where is the perplexity and self-discovery? Where is the transformation, for both the teacher and the learner?

Furthermore, Socratic teachers recognize that learners are in need of guidance, not punishment. When students misbehave, teachers will assume that they did not act this way deliberately. According to Socrates, teachers shall “get hold of them privately, to instruct them and exhort them” and not “bring people to court for such unwilling wrongdoings” (p. 30, 26a)—that is, Socratic teachers take a restorative justice approach to misconduct. Likewise, when students struggle, Socratic teachers will assume they are capable of growth and transformation and will create environments for them to wrestle with ideas and persist through inquiry.

In the same vein, Socratic teachers regard teaching as entangled with caring for the whole individual—body and mind. They teach others to love learning through engaging in inquiry. They encourage students to question everything and everyone, including them, and to make sense of learning in their own way. In elaborating on this point, I foreground a quote from “Alcibiades,” in which Socrates says, “You can question me, if you like, as I questioned you—or else work it out yourself, in your own argument” (p. 570, 114b). Beyond developing cognitive abilities, Socratic teachers regard teaching as imbued with emotional labor and approach their students with acute sensitivity and care. In difficult times, they adopt the attitude to be “nevertheless willing to do my best for your sake” (p. 72, 82b).

In sum, in this essay, I have attempted to depict a good teacher as one who embodies teacher-as-learner, teacher-as-guide, and teacher-as-caregiver—three points for a stable foundation underlying both pedagogy and psychagogia. As someone who epitomizes all three, Socrates, I argue, is indeed a teacher.

References

Gibbs, A. (2015). Writing as method: Attunement, resonance, and rhythm. In B. Timm Knudsen & C. Stage (Eds.), Affective methodologies: Developing cultural research strategies for the study of affect (pp. 222–236). Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan.

Plato. (2002). Five dialogues (2nd ed.; G. M. A. Grube, Trans.). Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

I started this blog back in August of 2018 after moving from Connecticut to New York City, with the aim to document my journey learning and teaching in the city and to share book smarts and street smarts. Over the months, my "book smarts” posts have largely consisted of me sharing my academic essays written for various classes, writing about good places around the city to get work done, and a how-to for requesting recommendation letters; my “street smarts” posts have ranged from money-saving strategies to my experience with a professional headshot photographer. Still, the most popular post of all-time, to my great surprise, is one random post about my search for no-show socks during the summer of 2018. Yes, who knew socks could be so interesting?

Full Disclosure

In any case, my no-show sock post from last summer caught the attention, not only of readers scattered across multiple continents, but also the eye of Shala of Sheec—a brand of socks that I referenced in my no-show sock post. She reached out to me a few months ago, sent some sock samples for me to try on, and so prior to writing this particular review, I have been testing these various socks for at least 2 months (as of updating this post on 4/18/2020, I have been wearing Sheec socks for more than 6 months now). I share all of this information not to intentionally bore you but to be transparent about the context of this post. Writing a review was not required on my part (and I am not receiving any kind of compensation for this); however, I wanted to show my gratitude for the complimentary socks by sharing my honest input regarding a brand of socks I have wanted to try. I want to emphasize that this post is voluntary on my part, that all words used are my own, that all photographs are also mine unless otherwise indicated, and that if you choose to purchase socks using the links, I will receive a small commission (I believe it is 10%, the last time I checked). In case you're wondering, any funds I receive from socks (thank you in advance!) will go towards keeping this website alive (FYI, I pay an annual domain fee, as well as a website fee, and together, this costs $164 each year).

My Past No-Show Socks Experiences

Like most (or all) of you, I wear socks everyday (with the exception of flip-flop weather) and I have had my fair share of frustrating socks that slip and rub against your ankles and cut into your heels; socks that more-or-less slide off in your boots while you’re walking (and then you have to awkwardly take them off to fix your socks); socks that snag easily and whose threads you watch sadly unraveling; socks whose toe-area wears off from just a few wears; socks that lose their shape after several washes; socks that are unfortunately one-size only and you have no idea how that works; the list goes on. You can probably imagine my excitement when Shala wrote to ask if I wanted to try out new socks. Who knew trying on socks can be so satisfying as an adult?

Updated 2/12/2021: For this 2021 holiday weekend (Valentines Day, Lunar New Year, Frederick Douglass’ birthday, my birthday…), you can use the code above (BOOKSMARTVDAY) to get 15% off your entire order from 2/12 - 2/19, even on the bundles, which are already discounted. There’s no need to subscribe with this code; simply use it when you checkout. This is the time of the year when I like to stock up on my sock staples—the Active-X socks and the Secret 2.0 thin liner socks. The code, however, cannot be combined with other codes or promotions happening.

Updated 11/26/2020: Shala of Sheec was kind enough to offer readers of my blog a 10% discount (use code STREETSMART) that can be applied on top of any site-wide discount (such as the bundles, which I am a big fan of). I don’t believe this code has an expiration date (yet!). If you are a student, teacher, in the medical field, or part of the military personnel, then I would recommend the taking advantage of the 15% discount (see below). Unfortunately, you cannot combine the discounts. If you purchase socks by clicking on the button above, I’ll receive a small commission of 10%, which I will use towards maintaining this blog. Thank you!

Updated 11/26/2020: Amidst the ever ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, Sheec is offering a 15% discount through VerifyPass to all first responders, medical students, K-12 students, graduate students, pre-K-12 teachers, professors, and military personnel. When you verify your status with an eligible email, you will receive a 15% off (down from 20% in the earlier months of COVID-19) code every time you decide to purchase something from this small business of only 11 employees! They are based in Brooklyn, NY, so I consider Sheec to be a local business for me!

Overview of the Sheec Sock Lines

I believe the term “no-show” for socks really depends on the context—that is, the type of shoe you are wearing. Often, “no-show” is attached to socks that are of the low-cut ankle variety, but from my experience, “no-show” socks are not all the same, and may do in fact show. When I received the sock samples from Shala (thank you, again!) of Sheec, I did not realize the huge variety of “no-show” socks. I was surprised to learn that the term “no-show” only appeared for their ActiveX line (my favorite line, by the way), even though I would consider many more of the lines to be “no-show.” So the lesson here for me is that searching for no-show socks requires some special attention, not unlike the attention required in conducting a thorough literature review. Let me explain: Just as you would operationalize search terms when conducting a search of the literature in preparation for a research proposal, a thesis, or a dissertation, so too is it necessary to learn the other terms associated with “no-show” that yield fruitful results. Thus, in writing this long post, I hope it gives you a sense of the range of possibilities out there.

In the section below, I will be sharing some basic information about four lines: 1) SoleHugger Secret 2.0 liner socks, 2) SockShion ball-of-foot sock cushions, 3) SlingBack toe-cover socks, and 4) SoleHugger ActiveX no-show socks. Subsequently, I will provide an in-depth review of two of the four sock lines—ActiveX and SoleHugger. Since at the time of writing this, it is cold and dry in New York City, I will only skim the surface of the SlingBack line, but may return in the spring to write a more thorough review, if there is interest.

SoleHugger Secret 2.0 Liner Socks

Let’s begin with terminology. No-show socks are also called liner socks by certain brands. Thus, you can really expand your search if you try “liner socks” as your search term. Sheec offers four different cuts for their liner socks, as shown below. The socks also come in various sizes corresponding to U.S. shoe sizes. The added bonus is that Sheec offers a similar line for “men,” which to me basically means that there is an expanded size range, assuming that men, on average, tend to have larger feet than women. If Sheec were to ever ask for my opinion regarding the categories of “men” and “women” socks, I would recommend ridding of the labels all-together. After all, it is feet that we are talking about. Regardless of whether if you identify as a man or a woman or are gender nonconforming, we all have feet to attend to, so why not make the sock labels more inclusive? I’d like to think that the cat meme is suitable here: “If it fits, I sits.” Likewise, if the sock fits, all is well (sorry, no rhyme).

Here is an infographic from Sheec that compares the different cuts for various shoe types. This infographic is actually meant to be interactive (i.e., when you put your cursor over one of the shoe types, it will show the recommended cut) so you should visit the “shop by coverage” link on the actual website for this feature.

SockShion Ball-of-Foot Sock Cushions & SlingBack Toe-Cover Socks

Let’s move on to the next two lines of “socks” that Sheec offers. The SockShions are not full socks, but rather more sock cushions for the ball of your foot. This line is limited to women; this, I believe is because the company works under the assumption that only women wear heels that may require them to want to protect the balls of their feet. In any case, this was my very first time learning about sock cushions. The concept is a good one; after all, it is this part of the foot that tends to get sweaty so I see the benefit of wearing cushions to absorb the extra moisture, so as to not ruin the shoes. As for sizing, these comes in three sizes (small, medium, large. As for color, there are two: black and cream.

The SlingBack line is also called the “toe-cover socks,” and I would consider them to be “no-show” as well, but not full socks. As the name shows, these only cover the toe area and have a clear elastic band that grips the heel (more photos in a subsequent section). These “socks” are meant to be worn with slingbacks, but can also be worn with heels in general. Just like the other lines, these come in various sizes and two colors. I’m showing the cream color below. Also, there is no separate line for men.

SoleHugger ActiveX No-Show Socks

Finally, we have the line of SoleHugger ActiveX no-show socks. These are made of a thicker modal material and are meant for “casual shoes,” per the Sheec website (i.e., sneakers, loafers, boots, and other flat shoes). These come in 5 sizes (S-XXL) and are more “unisex”; you can see from the back of the packaging that the smallest size is for women only, but all other sizes are for both men and women. There are two colors available (black and beige); I only have photos of the beige color, but I recently bought myself the black color and love them!

*Please note that all of these photos were taken back in November of 2019, and since then, Sheec has released expanded sizes for their Active-X line.

My Personal Favorite Sheec Sock Line

If I had to choose one sock line among the four introduced above, I would invest in the SoleHugger ActiveX no-show socks. I say “invest” here because these are not cheap socks ($10 per pair) but my pair has held up surprisingly well after two months of regular wear (see below for before-and-after photos). You can buy these in bulk for a small saving (e.g., 7 pairs for $63, or 4 pairs for $36). As I mentioned earlier, these no-show socks come in two colors: black and beige. I currently own both colors and I like them a lot. Against my skin, the beige ones are a near “neutral.” The black color is very durable and I prefer them when wearing dark colored jeans or leggings. These socks also come in two cuts: low-cut and mid-cut. Both are great, but I find myself gravitating more toward the mid-cut socks for fall and winter when I wear them with boots, loafers, and sneakers. Compared to the liner socks, these are made of a thicker material (modal) that is suitable for colder seasons. When wearing flats and heels, I will wear the liner socks instead (and choose the low-cut or ultra low-cut).

Below is an infographic from the Sheec website:

Below, I will show you a series of photographs of me wearing these socks with various comfort shoes. In the earlier photos, the condition of the socks is new; in the later photos, I show the socks after weeks of regular wear and two rounds of washer-dryer treatment (not ideal, but I wanted to experiment with this, since we all get busy and don’t have time to hand wash socks). I also want to add that the “small” size fit me perfectly, so I went against the recommendation to size up.

How the SoleHugger ActiveX No-Show Sock Line Holds up

I have been quite pleased by the quality of the Sheec socks, particularly the liner socks and the ActiveX no-show socks, which I have been wearing on a regular basis. Although the care instructions state to air dry the socks, I figured I would try tossing them in the washer and dryer and see what happens. All the socks shrank ever so slightly; I felt the ActiveX socks (made of modal material) shrunk more, and I base this entirely on the empirical results of two trials for two separate pairs of socks. The socks fit snugly but became slightly looser with additional wear. My beige ActiveX socks did pick up some fuzz and pill a bit while in the dryer (as seen in the photos below). The silicone “grips” inside the heel area of the socks remained intact, however, as did the black text. Furthermore, the material did feel rougher than before, and this is expected for anything that goes in the dryer (especially under high heat). The washer and dryer units we have in our apartment building are of the industrial kind, with few temperature settings so my socks likely took a beating. I do plan to hand wash the socks in the future.

The True “No-Show” Socks: The SoleHugger Secret 2.0 Liner Socks

Of all the Sheec socks I tried on, the line called the SoleHugger Secret 2.0 Liner Socks most closely resembled the “no-show” socks I had in mind when I was on a search for them last summer. These socks more-than satisfactorily replaced my old HUE no-show socks from last summer (reviewed in this old post). I was impressed by the expansive collection offered on the Sheec website; as described earlier, these come in an ultra low-cut (too much toe cleavage for my liking, but work really well with high heels with lots of toe cleavage), as well as a high-cut (practical for added coverage, but not the most aesthetic looking). For these liner socks, I would, in general, recommend sizing up. The ultra low-cut in “small” was very snug on me (I guess I have large toes?), but interestingly enough, the low-cut in “medium” was a bit loose. And yet, the high-cut “medium” was just perfect, so sizing up was a win for me. In sum, then, from my experience, the sizing is not consistent, which can be frustrating.

Below, I show a series of photographs detailing various aspects of these socks. All photographs are mine, and when I took them, the socks were brand new. I am not showing a before-and-after comparison for these socks (to be honest, mostly out of laziness, but also because I just have too many sock photos on my phone!). I will say, though, that these socks have held up very well after several rounds of washer-and-dryer treatment. The beige color did stain a little (no surprise, as I wore them a few times with black leather boots…), and the liner socks did shrink a bit (which was a problem for the ultra low-cut liner socks, since the “small” size was already tiny to begin with).

The infographic below is from the Sheec website:

As promised, here are a series of try-on photographs. The cream/beige color shows the high-cut style, whereas the black color shows the low-cut and ultra low-cut styles.

Here, I am trying on the low-cut liner socks in “medium” (note that these were slightly bit for me).

Finally, below I am showing you the ultra low-cut style for these liner socks:

Trying on the SlingBack Toe-Cover Socks

I am wrapping up this post by showing a few photographs showing what the SlingBack toe-cover socks look like. I saved this for last because these are not my favorite, and I personally would not invest $12 (yes, more than both the liner socks and the no-show socks!) for a single pair of these, even though they are quite unique. I do own quite a few heels in the slingback style, but I think I would just wear them with bare feet and wipe the shoes clean with baby wipes after each wear. For added ball-of-foot protection, I might go for adhesive silicone pads, but honestly, I have not thought much about this.

The infographic below is from the Sheec website:

Takeaways

We have reached the end of my sock review. This is probably the most detailed review I have ever given about any piece of clothing, so I hope it has been useful. It was fun for me to get to try out the various socks from Sheec. Once my existing socks wear out, I plan on purchasing the ActiveX socks in beige (size small) in bulk, since I do believe these socks are worth the investment. I have been wearing these regularly during the cold autumn days and I plan to wear them into the winter months with my boots. I am also thinking about picking some of these up for my husband (you can shop for “men’s socks” here). Furthermore, I think the SoleHugger Secret 2.0 liner socks are also very solid no-show socks. The quality is the best I’ve seen so far, and this is well reflected in the price (between $10-$11). There is no bulk option for these socks, so I would definitely wait for some kind of promotion to get these, because $10 is still quite a bit for socks (Update: I just learned that there IS now a bulk deal through the Black Friday sale. You can gain early access to the sale now through this link). Then again, socks are something you wear regularly… in any case, once the warmer weather comes around and my existing liner socks wear out, I also plan to restock on these. As for the SlingBack line, I am not ready to spend $12 on a single pair of toe-covers. Finally, I have yet to give the SockShions a fair trial in the spring, but my gut feeling is that $12 may be a bit too much right now, especially while being on a student budget. I’ll let you know if I change my mind…

Thanks for following along (and for the extra support if you do choose to give these socks a try, but absolutely no pressure!).

Catherine

P.S. In light of the recent news of a Black Friday / Cyber Monday sale, I wanted to show a screenshot of a sample deal. You can get early access to the sale here for a limited time. I have selected several discounted bundles (these are the ones I would be getting). This comes to $67.45 (which saves you 10% from the original $74.50). But, if you apply the coupon code STREETSMARTBFCM, you will get an additional 25% off, for a total savings of 32%. My total comes down to $50.59.

After yet another hiatus from writing, I thought I would enter my second year of “blogging” by sharing a piece of academic writing from my first year—one that I was (dare I say it) even proud of to some extent. In general, I did not get much feedback from professors during my first year in my education doctorate program; however, for this particular essay, the feedback I received was overwhelmingly positive and encouraging. My professor suggested that I publish this essay somewhere, so as to reach a wider audience. After some searching, I could not quite find the right avenue and did not know where to start with getting published. In the end, I thought I would share my thinking here, for in many ways, this blog is an intimate part of my academic journey. I realize that, as an academic piece, this may bore some of my younger readers who may gravitate toward my Instagram posts; but, given that so many of my younger readers are my own former students, I hope this essay provides some insight into my own philosophy of teaching. To other readers who may know me personally or may be acquainted with me in some capacity, I hope this is a worthwhile read! To those who may have fortuitously found this page, perhaps as a graduate student yourself, I hope this read offers some value, perhaps in the form of language or writing approach. After all, I owe much of my academic writing skills to reading the writings of others.

So with all that said, this is me sharing one of my last papers written during my first year of graduate school at Teachers College, writing as Catherine Cheng (I am now legally Catherine Stahl). Here, I reflect on the tendency of teacher preparation programs to overemphasize practice rather than to provide a rich education that supports teachers in recognizing the aesthetics of teaching. I argue for a recognition of and, perhaps, a return to an “art” of teaching that takes into account the affective dimension and emotional labor of working with students.

Warm regards,

Catherine

Have We Lost Touch of the Art of Teaching?
A Critique of Simulated Environments in Teacher Preparation Programs

Catherine Y. Cheng
Teachers College, Columbia University

In their article, Dieker, Rodriguez, Lignugaris/Kraft, Hynes, and Hughes (2014) argued that mixed-reality, avatar-based simulated environments have a place in teacher preparation programs and will continue to shape teacher education in the future. According to the authors, among the affordances that such simulators offer preservice and in-service teachers are repeated practice in a fully immersive environment, a cyclical process for feedback that supports personalized learning, and the “suspension of disbelief” (p. 25) provided by a physical space that gives the “feeling of actually being in the ‘real’ environment” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 29). What the article contributes to the literature is a profile of an innovative technology that invites teachers to take a more active role in developing teaching practices.

In writing this essay, I am momentarily suspending my own disbelief of the use of simulation in the field of teacher education. While I believe the authors’ support for simulators in teacher preparation programs comes from a good place, I wish to push back on their sanguine claims after exposing a set of assumptions underlying their argument. In doing so, I aim to shed light on the conceptual and methodological limitations that Dieker et al. (2014) overlooked in their “objective” analysis of the tool they promoted. In response to the authors’ technocratic and mechanistic view of teaching, I argue that learning to teach is as much an art as it is a science, and that simulated environments do not allow for “other ways of knowing, relating to, and creating the world” (Coleman & Ringrose, 2013, p. 4) of teaching. In informing my position, I draw inspiration from scholarly work surrounding affect, as well as from Deborah Britzman’s (2003) writings on practice. I end by contemplating the next steps of teacher education and offer my thoughts on the drawbacks of simulated environments in teacher preparation programs.

Dieker et al. (2014) centered their analysis on one particular simulated environment, the TLE TeachLivE Lab founded at the University of Central Florida (UCF). This simulator was used by teacher education programs at Utah State University (USU) to support preservice teachers’ work with student avatars with severe, moderate, and mild disabilities. The findings compiled from several studies revealed that teacher practices (e.g., discrete trial training, preference assessments, instructional and behavioral management routines) produced visible positive changes in the student avatars’ behaviors, even in more complex contexts. The authors asserted that these data support their hypothesis that “students will be more likely to learn from teachers who have experienced virtual environments” (p. 28). Encouraged by the data, they affirmed that simulated environments will have a “strong and lasting impact” on teacher education, especially with ongoing efforts to make simulation technology “more user-friendly and affordable” (p. 29) for teachers and teacher preparation programs, respectively.

Unpacking assumptions surrounding teaching, teacher education, and disabilities

Among the many assumptions underlying Dieker et al.’s (2014) affirmative position on the use of simulators are four that I will illuminate. Later in this essay, I will interrogate the first two further. First, the authors assume that teaching is a teacher-centered activity that involves teachers transferring learned content and behaviors to a passive classroom setting. As such, through “virtual rehearsals” of a “classroom management technique, a teaching strategy, behavior management techniques, or explaining content” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 24), teachers can improve their teaching without involving real students in the process. Second, the authors assume that a main objective of teaching involves “fixing” students who display problematic behaviors. In other words, teaching is a largely managerial activity that involves children who need to learn proper ways of behaving and being (i.e., teaching involves disciplining unruly bodies into productive ones). In the studies’ simulators, even the most complex student identities and challenging behaviors came pre-formed (read: programmed), were predictable, and could be anticipated (read: managed). Third, the authors presuppose that the main difference between a successful and a less successful teacher is practice, in which practice is viewed as a set of “correct” teaching behaviors. In this light, teachers improve by acquiring and honing set of behaviors through repeated practice. Finally, as the authors did not problematize how student avatars with disabilities were encoded, I assume that they view learning disabilities as situated in individuals rather than in a society. Through this view of disabilities, then, it follows that problematic aspects of students can be fixed through a personalized regimen. This is a position to which I do not assent and is counter to that of critical dis/ability scholars (e.g., Baglieri, Bejoian, Broderick, Connor, & Valle, 2011; Ferri & Connor, 2010; McDermott & Raley, 2008).

Problematizing objectivity, rationality, and teacher control

As I unpack the authors’ claims, what stands out as a key methodological limitation is their mode of data collection and analysis. It is curious that Dieker et al. (2014) described “greater teacher learning gains” (p. 29), but did not provide accounts of the teachers’ learning experiences beyond reporting increased deltas in their implementation of scripted routines. Similarly, despite all the iterative reflective practices that teachers engaged in alongside the simulators, the substance of that reflection was never revealed in the article. At no point did data from and not of teachers emerge. It is precisely the absence of participant voices in the whole article that I find most disconcerting and troublesome. Likewise, the authors made references to “the self-esteem of students,” “positive learning environments” (p. 30), and students’ “individualized needs” (p. 28); yet, they neglected to provide concrete evidence of how practice with simulators improved the learning experiences of real students. It is one thing to use quantitative data to show that virtual students improved their attention span, demonstrated more teacher-sanctioned behaviors, and became more motivated, and another to claim that such improvements translate to real students in living, breathing classrooms.

This critique thus surfaces the authors’ worldview that is intimately connected to the aforementioned methodological limitation: much of teaching can be reflected by a computer simulator and subsequently, be assessed and measured by neoliberal standards of what constitutes meaningful data; these data, deemed “objective,” can be used to make claims about teaching real students in actual classrooms. It is evident that the authors adopt a post-positivist worldview of “a single approximal reality” (Ponterotto, 2005, p. 130) of teaching that researchers alone can capture and make meaningful through a data analysis process; participants are not needed to confirm the accuracy of the research findings. My concern here is not so much with the authors’ ontological and epistemological stances as it is with their efforts to conceal their value biases when reporting on the various benefits of the simulator. Their positionality, which was not acknowledged openly and which I do not consider neutral, raises some issues for me. As current and former researchers at UCF (the founder of the TLE TeachLivE Lab) and USU (the external partner of UCF), the authors were committed to simulation technology, particularly in the context of teacher preparation with a focus on special education. Furthermore, these authors all received funding for this research from the National Science Foundation, Lockheed Martin, and/or the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, so they had a stake in this work and were likely driven by measurable outcomes that they could report on. Taken together, I find the lack of both transparency and critical views to be problematic, particularly given their “detached” role.

There are also conceptual limitations to the authors’ argument. While I acknowledge that there are a set of skills that preservice teachers ought to learn to help them navigate the intricate and dynamic classroom space, I am wary of the added emphasis on classroom management skills and ways of “fixing” problematic behaviors that students (particularly those with disabilities) exhibit. Lurking behind the TLE TeachLivE Lab is a “technocratic impulse” with a “desire to simplify…complexity” and “magnify the application of discrete techniques” (Britzman, 2003, p. 239). There is the danger that the highly rational modes of teacher practice (read: teacher training) that these simulated environments promote “displace the slower work of understanding” (Britzman, 2003, p. 241) that students—with or without disabilities—need to thrive. What does it even mean that “10 minutes in a simulator is equal to 45-60 minutes in the real world” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 29)? In what “real world” is community-building streamlined and personal transformation sped up? Have the authors forgotten about the timeless importance of building trusting teacher-student relationships, which cannot be practiced or measured?

The teacher-centric view adopted by Dieker et al. is also concerning. The authors claimed that one of the main assets of the TLE TeachLivE Lab is its provision of both an “authentic simulated environment” and a “safe, controlled” one, in which teachers could “reenter…to fix errors with avatars and ensure student success” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 30). Here, the tension could not be more evident when applying an affective lens. For one, a real classroom environment is far from controlled and predictable (cf. Niccolini, 2016; Ohito, 2016). Moreover, without considering students’ perspectives, it is difficult to pinpoint the reason underlying individual students’ “problematic” behavior. A real student “acting out” could be attributed to many entangled factors and could also serve active functions, such as seeking attention, care, and even love. By focusing teacher practice on what teachers should do to students—through practices that can be broken down into “steps” to be implemented with “100% accuracy” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 28)—the authors overlooked how students’ ways of being might also affect teachers and shape their practice. Their technocratic impulse runs the risk of preparing teachers who take the “dynamics of classroom life for granted” (Britzman, 2003, p. 241).

Unlike the authors’ view of teaching in supposedly “realistic environments” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 26), I embrace the concept of teaching as a phenomenon produced by “intra-actions” (Barad, 2003) among teachers, students, texts, objects, and ideas. According to Karen Barad, phenomena do not pre-exist relations or intra-actions among things; rather, a phenomenon—in this case teaching—comes into being when bodies and things engage in intra-activity and shape one another in a bidirectional manner. When one views teaching in this way, it becomes clear that pedagogy can never truly be neatly “transferred” from “one environment to the next” (p. 29) by a teacher, even with the availability of “multiple types of students” that teachers can encounter and “practice with…prior to encountering real students in their classrooms” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 29). Instead of viewing teaching as occurring within a vacuum, I echo Elizabeth Ellsworth’s (2005) perspective that “learning and teaching are affectively charged events” (as cited in Niccolini, 2016, p. 230). Indeed, in her study of a first-year secondary science teacher, Kathryn Strom (2015) illuminated the complexity of enacting pre-professional learning in a real classroom setting, describing teaching as a “collectively negotiated activity” (p. 321) and an assemblage with many connected elements “work[ing] together for a particular purpose” (p. 329). This image of teaching could not be further from Dieker et al.’s (2014) view of teaching as a set of practices carried out by the teacher in an inert classroom.

Taken together, unless the goal of simulated environments is to prepare one-dimensional teachers to teach students who are either “typically developing or not-typically developing” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 25), with little regard for complexity in identity construction (e.g., race, social class, gender, sexuality, language ability, immigration status), and with little awareness of the constraining institutional structures in place, these simulators will do little to prepare teachers for the attunement (Ahmed, 2017; Niccolini, Zarabadi, & Ringrose, 2018; Stewart, 2007), the “emotional labor” (Boler & Zembylas, 2003, p. 126), and the “entanglements” (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987) that characterize real teaching in the current era. 

Next steps of teacher education: Away from practice, toward experimentation

Technological developments will continue to be on the rise, and there are bound to be other innovations in teacher education. As much as I am intrigued by novel ways of supporting teachers in their practice, I am hesitant to embrace the TLE TeachLivE Lab. I adopt Britzman’s (2003) critical stance that “we must move from celebrating the unique to critiquing the problematic” (p. 241). Thus, I urge teacher preparation programs to thoughtfully weight the affordances and limitations of preservice teachers investing their time and energy into simulated teaching. Classroom management aside, what other areas of teaching might warrant greater attention and care, and how might these domains be targeted in teacher education such that preservice teachers can experience more growth? In helping teachers “refine and practice basic teaching repertoires” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 27) with repeated supervised practice under the same conditions, might simulators limit teachers’ capacity to interact openly and creatively with students? Might such practice also take away the joy and wonder of encountering the infinite scenarios that organically emerge in a real classroom?

Perhaps it is also worthwhile for teacher preparation programs to ask their graduates what the most challenging aspects of teaching are and how programs could better prepare preservice teachers. When I look back on my own teacher education experiences, I immediately recognize the lack of exposure I had to uncomfortable situations and complex, sensitive topics. I was deprived of anti-racist, culturally relevant, and social justice-oriented teaching experiences. I was deprived of honest discussions of how learning disabilities are often a product of the systemic structures we have in place. I was also deprived of ways to work through emotionally charged interactions with students, colleagues, and parents. What I did have was plenty of practice.   

In retracing some of my own experiences, I am not suggesting that the TLE TeachLivE Lab should expand to simulate charged environments and engage teachers in a pedagogy of discomfort (Boler & Zembylas, 2003). Quite the contrary, in bringing tension and affect into my critique, I want to shed light on the embodied, emotional experiences of teaching in real classrooms and how repeated sessions with a simulator cannot prepare teachers for the animacy of affect. Affects are “not something we can plan for, replicate, or train…[and] their effects, wonderfully and frighteningly, are not up to us to decide” (Niccolini, 2016, p. 246). Even so, affect can open up spaces in which to collectively address charged, messy, and entangled concerns, and as such, I believe we should be mindful of its potential and willing to embrace its unpredictability. This, I believe, is part of the art of teaching. I also believe that it is through collective struggle and emotional labor (Boler & Zembylas, 2003) that teachers will improve their “understanding [of] behavior, diversity, disability, and effective instruction in inclusive settings” (Dieker et al., 2014, p. 26, emphasis added), not through practice. In this way, I am advocating for a shift away from scripted practice (with or without simulation technologies) toward experimentation that creates openings in our thinking, teaching, and being.

By experimentation, I mean that I support the teacher-as-researcher movement that Britzman (2003) described and wish to highlight the importance of “acknowledge[ing] the voices of those learning to teach” (p. 240). This movement is not unlike the “inquiry as stance” (p. 288) construct that Marilyn Cochran-Smith and Susan Lytle (1999) advocated. Instead of practicing standardized reflection that Dieker et al. (2014) promote, I hold the position that teachers and students alike would benefit from teachers developing “reflexive analytical skills” that support the development of “sensitive practices” (Britzman, 2003, p. 240). These forms of attunement might help teachers “honor significantly different bodies and ask what they can do” (Manning, 2016, p. 4). By learning to become more in touch with and attuned to others’ at times discordant lives, teachers might learn in unexpected ways. By shifting from a goal of “mastery” of teacher practice that simulated environments privilege to a goal of sustained inquiry, teacher preparation programs could “challenge not just the ways in which teachers work with students but the ways in which everyone involved can imagine who they are becoming” (Britzman, 2003, p. 241, emphasis added). This, in essence, is the “art” in the art of teaching.

References

Ahmed, S. (2017). Living a feminist life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822373377

Baglieri, S., Bejoian, L. M., Broderick, A. A., Connor, D. J., & Valle, J. (2011). [Re]claiming “inclusive education” toward cohesion in educational reform: Disability studies unravels the myth of the normal child. Teachers College Record, 113(10), 2122–2154.

Barad, K. (2003). Posthumanist performativity: Toward an understanding of how matter comes to matter. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society, 28(3), 801–831.

Boler, M., & Zembylas, M. (2003). Discomforting truths: The emotional terrain of understanding difference. In P. P. Trifonas (Ed.), Pedagogies of difference: Rethinking education for social change (pp. 116–139). Retrieved from http://choicereviews.org/review/10.5860/CHOICE.40-6553

Britzman, D. P. (2003). Practice makes practice: A critical study of learning to teach. New York, NY: Teachers College Press.

Cochran-Smith, M., & Lytle, S. L. (1999). Relationships of knowledge and practice: Teacher learning in communities. In A. Iran-Nejad & D. P. Pearson (Eds.), Review of Research in Education (Vol. 24, pp. 249 –305). Washington, DC: American Educational Research Association.

Coleman, R., & Ringrose, J. (2013). Introduction: Deleuze and research methodologies. In R. Coleman & J. Ringrose (Eds.), Deleuze and research methodologies (pp. 1–22). Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). Introduction: Rhizome. In B. Massumi (Trans.), A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia (pp. 3–25). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Dieker, L. A., Rodriguez, J. A., Lignugaris/Kraft, B., Hynes, M. C., & Hughes, C. E. (2014). The potential of simulated environments in teacher education: Current and future possibilities. Teacher Education and Special Education, 37(1), 21–33. https://doi.org/10.1177/0888406413512683

Ferri, B. A., & Connor, D. J. (2010). ‘I was the special ed. girl’: Urban working‐class young women of colour. Gender and Education, 22(1), 105–121. https://doi.org/10.1080/09540250802612688

Manning, E. (2016). The minor gesture. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/teacherscollege-ebooks/detail.action?docID=4528997

McDermott, R., & Raley, J. D. (2008). “The tell-tale body.” The constitution of disabilities in schools. In W. Ayers, T. M. Quinn, & D. Stovall (Eds.), Handbook of Social Justice in Education (pp. 431–445). Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/teacherscollege-ebooks/detail.action?docID=432743

Niccolini, A. (2016). Animate affects: Censorship, reckless pedagogies, and beautiful feelings. Gender and Education, 28(2), 230–249. https://doi.org/10.1080/09540253.2015.1121205

Niccolini, A., Zarabadi, S., & Ringrose, J. (2018). Spinning yarns: Affective kinshipping as posthuman pedagogy. Parallax, 24(3), 324–343. https://doi.org/10.1080/13534645.2018.1496582

Ohito, E. O. (2016). Making the emperor’s new clothes visible in anti-racist teacher education: Enacting a pedagogy of discomfort with white preservice teachers. Equity & Excellence in Education, 49(4), 454–467. https://doi.org/10.1080/10665684.2016.1226104

Ponterotto, J. G. (2005). Qualitative research in counseling psychology: A primer on research paradigms and philosophy of science. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 52(2), 126–136. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-0167.52.2.126

Stewart, K. (2007). Ordinary affects. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822390404

Strom, K. J. (2015). Teaching as assemblage: Negotiating learning and practice in the first year of teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 66(4), 321–333. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022487115589990

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]]>Writing in Graduate School: Reflecting on the Art of TeachingDress the PartLife LatelyPhotographyMoney & FinanceCatherine Cheng StahlSat, 10 Aug 2019 00:48:33 +0000https://www.booksmartstreetsmart.com/blog/2019/an-intimate-wedding-my-search-for-a-local-new-york-city-wedding-photographer5b6a41798f513062310c20a3:5b6a45d3f950b70e70088d59:5d4c85c76d051e000184f485After many, many weeks post-wedding, I am finally sharing some of my favorite photographs capturing memories from our small wedding under the Brooklyn Bridge. Since I am all about sharing new learning through my blog posts, I hope to also use this opportunity to share more about my search for a local New York City (wedding) photographer. It did not take long for me to decide on Shelby Phillips as my wedding photographer. While I will do my best to recall the objective reasons for my selection, in the end, it all came down to a gut feeling from my online and in-person interactions with Shelby. Looking back, I am so glad I followed my intuition, because the end result has been a beautiful collection of photographs that my husband and I will treasure for the years to come. Shelby—this post is my way of thanking you for a most beautiful day and the photographs to remember it by.

1. Starting with a budget…

Prior to my own wedding, I had been to four weddings, all of which were beautiful with their own personality, but all fairly large. For my wedding, I took on the responsibility of being my own wedding planner, hoping to save some money that way. For a while, Max and I had flirted with the idea of having our wedding in Italy and celebrating the day with just our immediate family. Then, after learning about the high costs and nightmare paperwork associated with a destination wedding, we thought about having our wedding in the South (like Charleston, SC). That planning turned out to be extra tricky, and I quickly realized that I would have to hire a wedding planner because there was no way I could manage long-distance planning on my own while being a full-time grad student. We then pondered the idea of doing a painless city hall wedding and going out for brunch with our family. Keeping it simple, right? But that seemed way too simple; plus, we really wanted a chance to bring our closest friends together from different corners of the world. In the end, we decided on a New York City wedding (for relative ease of travel for our guests), and with that came a New York City price tag. I had to get creative about ways to organize the wedding while working within a budget.

I share all of this background information because money was something that was constantly on my mind as I was looking for the right photographer. Yes, I get it, a wedding day is not an ordinary day, and one should not feel guilty about splurging, right? Yes to some extent, but as a pretty practically-minded person when it comes to finances, I was not ready to go all out.

Before looking for a photographer, I had booked my venue. That step was important because the venue is generally the most expensive part of a wedding; at least it was for me. After I played with the numbers, I budgeted about $2000 for wedding photography and videography combined, and that was the upper limit of what I could afford (still quite high!)

2. Googling wedding photography in New York City…

Once I had a number in mind for photography expenses, I started Googling wedding photography in New York City. Many articles and online forums surfaced from this search and most were about the average cost of wedding photography in the city. I was tempted to read them, and I did read some, but since I had already come up with a number, I decided to go right into sites like Wedding Wire, The Knot, and The Cut. But even that was overwhelming… There were hundreds of wedding photographers, the majority of whom had rave reviews and beautiful preview shots. I thought about using filters to narrow down the search and decided on a different strategy… (read below)

3. Beginning in the middle…

The phrase “beginning in the middle” has taken on a whole new meaning for me, after a semester of thinking with Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari as part of a post-structuralist course in curriculum and teaching. In the context of finding the right wedding photographer, however, the phrase is meant to be taken quite literally: begin in the middle of your search. That meant, skipping pages 1, 2, 3, and maybe more and going straight for the middle of the search results. I believe I skipped right to page 5 or 6, and started my search there. I did a superficial skim of the photos and descriptions to gather a first impression, and wrote out a list of photographers I wanted to look into. Shelby Phillips Photography was on that list.

Why begin in the middle, you ask? Perhaps it is the teacher in me, but I have vigorously rejected the notion of an “average” student (neither in the top/front, nor in the bottom/back), or in this case, an “average” photographer, whatever that means. A philosophy guiding my own teaching has always been to uncover the gem in every student, and to help that student recognize their gifts. Importantly, I believe in giving opportunities to those just embarking on a journey, and whenever possible, I try to support budding artists. In many ways, I believe this is my way of giving thanks to those who took a chance on me and hired me as a beginning researcher, a newly minted teacher, and most recently, a doctoral student without a master’s degree. The beginning is always the toughest, and everyone deserves a chance to show what they have to offer. Beginning a search in the middle has been my way of attempting to uncover those hidden gems in the mixture.

4. Reading reviews carefully…

Shelby Phillips Photography had a handful of reviews at the time when I first found her (summer of 2018). I read the reviews very carefully, paying close attention to those key words that resonated with me—words and phrases like “natural,” “creative,” “thoughtful,” and “attention to detail.” As both Max and I are camera-shy, I was looking for a photographer who could make us feel at ease, or at least help us not feel super awkward in front of a camera. So, as I was reading reviews, I was also looking out for those reviews from clients who are similarly camera-shy.

I believe I spent a good full day reading the reviews of those photographers who made it to my initial list (gathered based on a first impression). Then I proceeded to the next step…

5. Making contact with the photographer…

While first impressions are to be honored, there is also value to giving those whom you are evaluating a chance to express themselves and to tell their own version of a story. So, after carefully reading reviews and ending with a list of about 5-6 photographers, I reached out by email to each of them. I could have called (that would have been faster), but 1) I do not enjoy making phone calls because I have a hard time gauging the person on the other end of the line, 2) I wanted to make sure I articulated everything well and trying to speak, listen, and take notes made that difficult, and 3) I did not want to feel pressured into making a quick decision, which can sometimes happen when speaking with someone very persuasive.

This is the email I drafted and ended up tweaking and then sending off to the photographers:

Hello—

I'm writing to learn a little more about your wedding photography services and to see if we are a good fit for you and if you're a good fit for us. My fiancé and I recently moved to NYC to begin the next professional phase of our lives-- he's a physician training at MSKCC and I'm a high school teacher turned doctoral student at Columbia. We are both photo-shy people but would like someone to help us capture precious moments on our special day, which we are spending with no more than 40 guests at The River Cafe under the Brooklyn Bridge. Will you let us know if you are available? Also, could you describe for us your photographic style? What is most important for you when it comes to wedding photography? Thank you in advance!

Catherine & Max

What I sent is arguably wordy, but that is my style. I also tend to share too many details, according to Max, who prefers to keep all email exchanges as brief as possible (e.g., “sure,” “OK,” “thanks”). But there is also a reason for this. By sharing personal details, I am welcoming the recipient to do the same, because details matter greatly to me, particularly when it comes to capturing a day as delicate and personal as a wedding. A few of the wedding photographers responded promptly (which I greatly appreciated), but too often did the responses feel “canned” and unbearably impersonal.

I also included specific questions in my inquiry. In some ways, this was a test of sorts, to see whether the photographer actually takes the time to read my email and to respond accordingly. In a few cases, I received a generic answer along the lines of “please see the FAQ section of the website.” This was a red flag for me because if the photographer cannot spare a few minutes to answer questions that matter to me, then how responsive and dedicated will he/she be when it comes to the actual day?

For me, wedding photography is not just a service; it is a genuine attempt to make a connection and to perhaps even foster a friendship. This is part of the reason why I confined my search to local New York City photographers. That personal connection was essential to me.

6. A matter of style: Learning about the photographer’s philosophy…

Shelby Phillips impressed me from the start. Before reaching out to her via email, I took some time to learn about her. From her personal blog, I learned that she is a recent graduate of NYU, that she loves photographing horses, that she is also an actor and a writer, and that she has a passion for bringing moments to life through photography. From looking at her curated selection of photographs on her website, I quickly learned that she cares about the minor gestures, the subtleties of a moment, and the play of light.

At the time I found her, I believe wedding photography was not her main focus; it seemed that she photographed more four-legged animals than did two-legged ones. I personally did not mind this one bit; rather, I found her versatility as a photographer to be a source of strength. If she could capture emotion and beauty without outward displays of emotions and beauty, then that speaks to her craft as an artist. I found her gentle and personal touch to photography to resonate deeply with me, and I also appreciated how she wrote about her life experiences in her blog. Here was a passionate young woman who not only observes the world with her eyes, but also attunes to it with her heart fully open. There was so much feeling evoked in both her writing and her photographs. There was so much vibrancy in her black-and-white captures. I was immediately hooked.

7. Getting a first impression in person…

Shelby and I exchanged quite a few emails before we decided it was time to meet in person. When she asked if I wanted to grab coffee, I was beyond excited. She sent me an email with specific times and locations, and left it open to me to choose. From her emails, I could tell that she took her job seriously and approached it professionally, and that she was organized. I also learned that she loves ice cream lattes (who can blame her?).

The day we met was a particularly hot one. Fortunately, Shelby had arrived early at Bluestone Lane Coffee next to the Guggenheim Museum and kindly secured a table with shade for both of us. It can be so tricky to obtain a table at this coveted Upper East Side coffee shop, so I was extra thankful that I did not have to wait in line.

As an extreme introvert, I admit that I can be pretty awkward during social situations, or so I feel. It takes quite some effort for me to feel comfortable talking, because small talk does not come naturally to me. When I sat down at the table next to Shelby, conversing with her could not have been easier easier. I found her to be down-to-earth and super genuine. She was not wearing makeup that day and was dressed down in a tank top and short shorts, for which she admitted openly that she felt insecure about (she told me she was not sure how I would “read” her). I assured her that I did not mind one bit what she was wearing, and that I was more interested in getting to know her and her approach to working with couples in front of a camera.

She asked me some questions and I asked her some in return. She wanted me to share the story of how Max and I met. While I told the story, she listened attentively but did not speak. She took down some notes by hand in her notebook (she did ask for permission to do so). What may seem on the surface to resemble an interview did not feel this way at all. There was such ease to the conversation and before I knew it, I had finished my ice cream latte (it was delicious, as Shelby assured me), but not before she finished hers.

I cannot quite remember the details of our conversation, only that everything about it felt right. I knew she was the right person to photograph me and Max. If I had felt comfortable talking to her during a first-time meeting, then my more extroverted fiancé was not going to have an issue either.

Shelby kindly offered to pay for my ice cream latte, adding that “you are already paying me a lot of money.” I appreciated the gesture, said goodbye, and walked away with a smile. I went home and wrote her a thank you card.

8. Signing a contract and paying an initial deposit…

As it was my first time hiring a professional photographer, I was not informed about the steps. Fortunately, Shelby was fully prepared. She drafted a formal contract, which I signed after reading it carefully. Per her contract, she requested a 25% deposit (non-refundable), which I thought was very reasonable. In the contract, she broke down the specifics of her fee (my package ended up costing $1000, before tips), indicated when and how I was going to receive the photographs, and even gave me an estimate of how many photographs I was to expect. For someone as young as Shelby, I thought she demonstrated maturity and professionalism beyond her years. This girl was going places, and I was happy to play a small part in her professional journey.

9. Staying in touch…

It was August 13, 2018 when I signed the contract and mailed it to Shelby, and the wedding was not until May 24, 2019. During the months in-between, Shelby and I stayed in touch. I followed her on instagram; she texted me occasionally to let me know that she was looking forward to the wedding, and that she had visited the wedding venue to get some inspiration. She even connected me with a videographer after my parents decided that they really wanted to capture some video footage of the wedding. All of these efforts on her part showed me that she valued me as a client and that it was not just transactional for her. That was important to me.

10. Getting ready for the big day…

The day before the wedding, Shelby reached out once more to finalize some details. She and the videographer arrived together at the hotel we were staying at. I had not planned on taking any “getting ready” photos, but both Shelby and I were enchanted by the suite that hotel management had given me (I had booked one of their “basic” rooms because the hotel already cost a fortune! It also did not help that it was Memorial Day weekend… sigh…) so we made use of the opportunity and took some photos. I was already fully dressed in my wedding dress with my heels on, so there were no separate wedding dress/wedding shoes photos (I honestly did not care for these). Shelby saved me from my clumsy self and gave me specific directions for where to stand, where to direct my gaze, what to do with my arms, etc. The whole time I was cracking up because I felt like such an attention snob. Shelby did not care; she was too busy maneuvering the space, clicking away on her camera.

Before we knew it, ten minutes had passed and it was time for us to make our way to the wedding venue. Max, his brother (best man), his father, my father, and all of our guests were already either at the venue or making their way there. It was time for the women in the family to join them.

The 5-minute walk to the wedding venue felt like eternity (in a good way!). I opted for an impractically long train for my wedding dress (I’m old-fashioned at heart!) so my younger sister dedicatedly carried it as I walked ahead of her. There were many stares from strangers along the way, but honestly, I did not pay attention because I was so focused on taking small steps so that I would not trip, or worse, get my heels stuck between the cracks in the sidewalk. It was past 5pm and the sun was blazing hot, but because we were situated right by the water, there was an occasional gentle breeze. Shelby was particularly excited about the wind, because it paved the way for some truly magnificent “action shots.”

As I slowly made my way to the venue with my sister directly behind me, and my mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law next to us, Shelby was quick on her feet, capturing the magic in the small moments, while playing with the light. As I look back on the photographs that she took of that day, I am amazed by how she chased the light throughout the day and into the evening, how she beautifully brought life into still photographs, and how she managed to capture all our family and friends in a way that reflects each person’s personality.

At one point while we were taking these bride-and-groom and family photos, Shelby lay right down on the ground, belly down, feet up behind her, with her face hidden from view by her large camera lens. To get the right angle, she did what she felt was the right thing to do as a photographer. I almost wish I had my iPhone at the time, because I truly wanted to capture that spontaneous moment of a young photographer hard at work, making her mark as a professional photographer.

Today, when I visit Shelby’s website, I immediately notice that it has grown. Since I signed my wedding photography contract, Shelby has taken on several other weddings, bringing life to a blank canvas by means of her camera lens, coupled with her eye for precious moments. I am so pleased to know that she is doing well, and that her dedication to her craft has paid off.

I will conclude this post with words coming directly from Shelby, in the form of an email response. This was her first email to me, in which she addressed the questions I inquired about:

The most important thing to me when I’m working with anybody (weddings, engagements, horses, dogs… you name it!) is that my client is comfortable and able to be themselves in front of the camera, no matter what that may be! I like to believe I’ve become an expert at minimizing the presence of the camera and giving my clients the space to relax and enjoy themselves. I actually love working with people who are more camera shy, because I feel they share some of the most intimate moments in front of the camera. I believe in not having a client-photographer relationship while I shoot, but rather a relationship between people who are all there to achieve the same goal, which in this case is to celebrate your love.

-Shelby Phillips

And naturally, I have to include a photograph she took of a four-legged animal that happened to be sharing the wedding venue with us, because, well, otherwise, it would be out of style for Shelby.

(I am revisiting this post, now in October, 2020, and I’m pleased to write that I’m still in touch with Shelby. She’s a gem of a photographer and an open-hearted human being! I’m rooting for her and enjoy seeing new photographs on her blog).

While on the topic of photography, if you are looking for a fantastic professional headshot, look no further than Hector Pachas Photography, whose work I discuss here.

It feels both awfully foreign and excitingly exhilarating to be finally tapping the keyboard of my laptop and not be writing a paper, or a proposal, or even an email! To whoever is still perusing this blog every now and then, thank you for not giving up on me— it has been an experimental year for me in so many ways that I have lost count. As of Thursday, July 4, 2019, my first year of doctoral studies at Teachers College finally drew to an end. I can’t quite express in words how I felt about this first year; there are too many emotions involved. While I felt uncertainty during part of the journey, one thing is clear: I have grown a lot from the challenges, and I believe that is what I wanted.

2019 has been a monumental year in a myriad of ways and we are only half-way through. In my head, I have made a list of blog posts to write, but have not had the courage to execute them. I suppose I have had a serious case of writer’s block and imposter syndrome, often doubting my ability to write, perhaps from writing too much in an academic setting and then overthinking it all. I have to keep reminding myself not too take this blog too seriously, or else it ceases to be fun. And to have some fun with writing and sharing was one of the main reasons I even started this project.

Before I get side-tracked in my random thoughts, let me attempt to return to my original aim: to begin sharing my favorite places to daydream, read, doodle, and get work done in New York City. I acknowledge that there are likely hundreds of similar blog posts out there with recommendations of places to go in the city for these purposes. What I am offering is the perspective of a 29-year old teacher-turned-student who has lived in the city now for a little over a year, who is a self-identified introvert, an enthusiastic user of public transport, and an avid people-watcher (i.e., ethnographer-in-training).

I have a feeling that I have forgotten one or two favorite places, in which case, I will save them for a future post. Here are 12 of my favorite places, organized by neighborhood, beginning with the one in which I reside.

#1 Stella and Fly, Upper East Side

Official website | Google map location

I have lost count of the number of times I have frequented this local coffee shop (and wine bar at night!) that is only mins away from where I live. All I know is that I am on reward punch card number 5 or 6 (I think now discontinued? Although, if you’re a regular, you can occasionally get a free drink if you just mention it), so it is fair to say that this is a local favorite. Although I cannot be further away from being Irish, this Irish coffee shop and I go way back—Max and I moved into the neighborhood some one month after Stella and Fly opened in 2018, so I’d like to think that we are connected somehow.

This is not the first time I have spotlighted Stella and Fly in my blog. I believe it was the first coffee shop that really made me feel at home here in the city. Perhaps the industrial chic interior design reminded me of our previous loft apartment in New Haven (oh, what a dream apartment that was and how much more affordable it was!); perhaps the tall window and the comfortable chairs lining the window resonated with the inner-cat-sitting-by-the-window in me; perhaps the warm smiles and Irish accent of Kate and Nigel (the coffee shop owners) and the Spanish (spoken by many of the baristas) made me feel welcomed and less alone in this at-times-overwhelming city.

Stella and Fly has been with me through the highs and lows of first and second years of grad school. I have done plenty of brainstorming here, and have edited countless numbers of papers on its wooden tables, drinking my usual latte (to stay) in one of the distinctive blue-colored handcrafted cups (from the pottery store next door). I try to come here in the early morning, but not too early (I believe the coffee shop opens around 6am!) so that I can snatch one of the window seats (FYI there are now 4 chairs by the windows instead of the previous 3 lounge chairs and plenty of pillows to go around!). The latest I have stayed is until 6pm, when lights are dimmed and laptops are swapped out for candles to transition into a wine bar. I have yet to stay for wine, but have not gathered up the courage to mingle in this very social space (it is ALWAYS packed!). I will make that my goal for year two :)

For the practically-minded person, Stella and Fly will not disappoint. There is a restroom downstairs, to the left of the staircase. It is always clean and well-stocked with Mrs. Meyer’s soap and hand lotion. The downstairs area has plenty of seating but no windows, so if that’s your study atmosphere, go for it. There is wifi that has never failed me, and unless it has recently changed, the password is “coffeeandwine.” There are various seating options; even during the busiest hours of the day, I have consistently been able to get a seat at the “bar” and then switch to a different seat as people leave. With the increased popularity of Stella & Fly (I’d like to think that this blog post has something to do with it haha), it has been more challenging to secure my favorite table by the window; nonetheless, this is always my go-to work place. There are hangers behind the entrance, as well as hooks underneath tables for you to hang your bag/umbrella/jacket. Importantly, there are outlets to charge your gadgets (some are hidden, so look under your table) and complimentary lemon-chilled water. In other words, this is a coffee shop where you can stay for hours and your presence would be appreciated.

By now, I can probably name all of the people who have ever worked at Stella and Fly since the summer of 2018; but as the shy person I am, I have not engaged in conversation with any of them beyond the “hello,” “thank you,” and “may I have a latte to stay please?” (although one day in the fall of 2018, Nigel recognized me and individually greeted me and thanked me for spreading the word about this place—that made me SO happy). I think Nigel knows who I am now (in 2020), given that I’ve been a regular presence for some 1.5 years.

My taste has also shifted a bit; my usual drinks are either the “latte with macadamia nut milk” or “hot chocolate with oat milk.” Another change (since 2018) is that Stella & Fly has a food menu and a pretty extensive cocktail menu. Food is served beginning at 11am, although you can still get sweet and savory croissants (along with other sweet treats) in the mornings.

#2 Hutch & Waldo, Upper East Side

Official website | Google map location

Hutch & Waldo is an Upper East Side coffee shop that I would like to call my other regular spot; however, it is located some 15-minutes away by foot so when I am tight for time (which has been the case during my first year of grad school), I end up visiting a coffee shop in the high E 80s rather than the low E 80s. But when I am in the area, I always peek inside, crossing my fingers for a rare free seat. As my photographs show, this is a small coffee shop with limited seating. When the weather is nice, however, there are tables and chairs set up outside.

What keeps me coming back is the charm of this coffee shop. I love the concept of a car garage converted into a coffee shop. I appreciate the latte/cappuccino art and the beautiful to-go cups. And I am slightly obsessed with the pop of turquoise against the exposed brick walls. Unlike Stella and Fly, Hutch & Waldo offers meals (salads and small dishes) so can be a place for brunch or lunch. Again, if you manage to find a seat!

The people working here are super friendly, which is an absolute plus for me. And last time I checked, there is no wifi, so this is a place where I like to do offline work, including reading articles that I have downloaded into my iPad and taking notes from a book.

#3 Cafe Sabarsky (inside Neue Galerie), Upper East Side

Official website | Google map location

Cafe Sabarsky is a coffee shop located on the first floor of the Neue Galerie museum for German and Austrian art located along the Museum Mile on 5th avenue. To me, it brings back precious memories of my time in Vienna, which is where I studied abroad for half a year during my junior year. I am old-fashioned at heart so this coffee shop/cafe is right up my alley, serving a wide range of espresso drinks, a mouthwatering assortment of delicate cakes, and delicious hearty meals for those who are willing to splurge a bit. The waiters are dressed in black-and-white, the plates and napkins are adorned with “Cafe Sabarsky” in the same font, and occasionally, there is live piano music.

As you are reading this, you might wonder to yourself, how is this a place to do work? It sounds more like a place to eat and socialize. I consider Cafe Sabarsky a place to do creative work. I have done plenty of brainstorming in this space, as I often find inspiration from observing social interactions, attuning to details across the room, and listening to the hums and chatter filling up the space. The last time I was here, I saw an older woman seated at a corner table, reading a book. She was there for at least a good hour, had finished her drink, and showed no signs of leaving, which apparently was acceptable! I imagine she is a regular. How awesome it is to have Cafe Sabarsky as your regular spot!

I don’t believe I will become a regular here any time soon given my student budget, but if you have some money to spare, or are willing to indulge every now and then, this is a fantastic place to take family and friends or to treat yourself! Sometimes there is a line, but I have not needed to wait for long for a seat. I usually get the Wiener melange (very similar to a cappuccino), which is a staple in all Viennese coffee houses. The Sabarsky Heisse Schokolade (hot chocolate) is homemade and very rich! For dessert, a popular one is the Sachertorte (an exquisite chocolate cake, the most famous of which is served at Hotel Sacher in Vienna); however, I vouch for the Warmer Milchrahmstrudel (a cheese-filled strudel served warm with vanilla sauce; see above photo) and the Apfelstrudel (a classic!).

You can see the rest of the menu here.

#4 Conservatory Water, or “Alice in Wonderland,” Central Park

Official website | Google map location

Conservatory Water in Central Park has been a regular reading spot for me and Max this summer. For the longest time, we called it “Alice in Wonderland” because of the name of a statue nearby. If you love being outdoors, this is a place you might like. It gets pretty busy here during the summer, but it is never really loud, and Max and I have always managed to find a bench in the shade. There is something very calming about working next to a body of water, and I absolutely love watching the mini sailboats sail by. More often than not, the “bubble man” is present and you get to experience sunlight diffracting through the thin films of bubbles. Every time I am here, I am reminded of happy childhood memories.

What makes this spot a practical study spot is that there is a Le Pain Quotidien located at one end of the “pond,” so you can buy yourself a drink, a meal, or use the restroom. Wifi is available through Le Pain Quotidien, so if you are seated close to the cafe, you might be able to connect to the complimentary wifi.

#5 Earth Cafe, Upper West Side

Official website | Google map location

Moving to the other side of Central Park, we reach the Upper West Side, which is where Teachers College is located. When I find myself with an hour to spare before work or the start of class, I will often frequent Earth Cafe, which has become a favorite that rivals Stella and Fly on the Upper East Side. Earth Cafe is Max’s favorite coffee shop that I have taken him to, and Max is one strict critic—he is all about getting serious work done, which means any place I take him to must have sufficient seating, stable wifi, a restroom, good espresso drinks, lots of light (natural light preferred), and treats. This place has it all and then some.

There is much to love about this local cafe, beginning with its convenient location. I can hope on the 1, 2, or 3 train and get off at 96th station, walk a few steps over to W 97th and I am there! When the weather is nice, there is outdoor seating, and the cafe’s corner location makes it an ideal location for people watching. I don’t know what I love more—the indoor seating or the outdoor seating. Quite frankly, given the abundance of light that fills this airy space, it is hard to separate indoor and outdoor. There are two full walls lined with gridded windows; the other walls are decorated with art that is intriguing to look at. I appreciate the brick walls painted white because it really opens up the space. i also love the pop of red of the espresso machine. The lattes are smooth and the food is tasty.

Earth Cafe is where I camp out for hours when I am on the Upper West Side. I am never in a rush to leave and I absolutely love the salads (they are so refreshing). I do plenty of writing by hand here. This summer, I have done the majority of my statistics work here. Even with statistics being over, I plan to come back often. It is nearly impossible to be in a bad mood here; there is something about bright cheerful colors that really do brighten your day.

#6 Fika Tower and Bakery, Hell’s Kitchen

Official website | Google map location

This summer was my first time exploring the Hell’s Kitchen area, and from my short time there, I know I will be back to explore some more. I came here for one reason: to visit the Swedish coffee shop Fika, which has numerous locations scattered across the island. I did my homework prior to visiting and decided on this particular location because I read the words “outside patio” and I was immediately hooked. The trek to this spot, however, did require some legwork. I got off at the Columbus Circle subway stop and walked west toward 10th avenue. If convenience is important to you, unless you live in the neighborhood, this Fika might not be an optimal study location. Since I’m an avid walker, I did not mind one bit.

The outdoor patio on the second floor did not disappoint. There are enough tables and seats to go around. The last time I was here, I settled on the long wooden table, which I shared with a few other people who seemed to be New York City locals. There is wifi, even outside, two restrooms, and all kinds of drinks (not just coffee) and snacks. There are two floors to this coffee shop, which is designed in a loft style with very tall ceilings. The space is airy, light, minimalistic, and in an endearing way, reminds me of IKEA (I adore IKEA by the way, as I grew up in Sweden). If you are someone who likes clean lines, symmetry, and minimalism, I believe you will enjoy working here.

#7 The Map Room, New York Public Library, Midtown

Official website | Google map location

When given the choice between doing work in a coffee shop or in a library, I will almost always choose the former. I do, however, make an exception for two libraries in Manhattan— the main branch (the Schwartzman building) of the New York Public Library and the Jefferson Market Library (also a branch of NYPL). The main branch of the NYPL is centrally located in Bryant Park and the building is absolutely grand. The main reading room—the Rose Room—gets most of the attention, but my personal favorite room is the Map Room—a smaller, more intimate, but nonetheless exquisite space. I did not take many photos of the room when I was last there, but from the photo shown above, you can see the beautiful tall arched windows that let in a steady stream of light. There are two long rows of wooden tables, one of which has desktop computers you can use if you are a holder of a NYPL card. Otherwise, you can seat yourself at the other table and stay for as long as you want. While the seats are comfortable and there is wifi, what prevents me from staying too long is the prohibition of drinks and snacks. Nonetheless, if you are someone who needs peace and quiet to get work done, then this library (and especially this room) would be ideal. Compared with the Rose Room, there is less foot traffic, so fewer interruptions.

#8 Cafe Intelligentsia (inside The High Line Hotel), Chelsea

Official website | Google map location

Cafe Intelligentsia was a top find from last summer, when I did a lot of wandering of the city as a way to get myself settled into my new home. The High Line and the Chelsea Market are top tourist attractions in the area, but I am a bigger fan of the art scene (the many independent, private galleries!), the building architecture, and the coffee houses.

Hotel lobbies are often a secret source of great lounges and coffee shops. It took some courage for me to confidently walk into a hotel lobby; for the longest time, I thought you had to be a customer/resident to enter the space (wrong!). As an aside, did you know that if you are in need of a restroom, you can try the restrooms in hotel lobbies? They are considered public! You cannot be denied access! There is a LOVELY bathroom in the Hotel Waldorf-Astoria (I believe on the second floor; you have to walk up the stairs. I also believe there is a public Starbucks still, so grab a coffee and head for one of the comfortable lounge chairs and enjoy!).

The High Line Hotel is a bit like a secret garden. You don’t quite know what is inside unless you walk in. Once you walk past the outdoor cafe, you will enter the lobby of the hotel, which is adorned with a Persian rug, exposed brick walls, golden frames but no paintings, and antique typewriters. The seating is limited in this indoor space. Personally, it is too dark for my taste and prefer taking my drink outside, to the hidden garden in the back. There is plenty of seating here, but there is not always shade, so you have to pick your battle. The plant life here is robust .

Because Chelsea is quite a distance from where I live, I am not a regular at Cafe Intelligentsia, but I imagine it would be if I lived in the area. It is a true hidden gem in the neighborhood and I would highly recommend it to those who enjoy studying in the open air. It does get too hot here in the summers, so I would suggest coming here in the fall and spring (unless you have seasonal allergies like I have).

If you are on a lookout for other coffee shops in hotel lobbies, here are a few more to try out:

• Hotel Stanford in midtown has partnered up with Think Coffee and offers comfortable leather lounge chairs in a modern chic environment.

• 1 Hotel Brooklyn Bridge (where Max and I stayed for our wedding) is home to Neighbors Cafe (where you can grab coffee and breakfast treats to go, or sit on one of their bar stools or small tables), The Osprey (REALLY good brunch with both indoor and outdoor seating—both are charming! I LOVE the decoration), and an unforgettable hotel lobby with all kinds of greeneries and seating arrangement (and wifi and outlets!).

• There is another 1 Hotel in the city, located close to the southern edge of Central Park. There is a restaurant/cafe as well, but I haven’t been inside so cannot speak personally of the place.

#9 La Lanterna di Vittorio, Greenwich Village

Official website | Google map location

The photograph above shows Macdougal Street, one of my favorites in Greenwich Village (or is it West Village?) because of the diversity of establishments. I had walked past La Lanterna di Vittorio numerous times without going inside, thinking it was only a restaurant and assuming it would be very pricey. One day in the early spring, I decided to walk inside. The “winter garden” sign piqued my interest.

Once I entered the winter garden tucked away in the back of the restaurant, down a short flight a stairs, all I could think was “WOW!” My photograph does not quite capture the ambiance of this space; there is a certain warmth that you can only experience once you are physically in the space. Last time I was here, I stayed for hours, reading articles on my iPad, brainstorming ideas for a new paper, and people watching. It does not get very busy here during the weekday and is a great place to work next to an espresso drink and dessert.

There is wifi for those who need it, although I personally wouldn’t bring a giant laptop here, as it sort of ruins the atmosphere (an iPad or smaller device is fine!). The tiramisu is oh-so-good, and the dessert menu is extensive, as is the drink menu… Espresso drinks are always served with a glass of water, which reminds me of my time in Vienna! This is a place to do serious writing, particularly in the winter time, when light is limited and the cold can be unbearable.

#10 Jefferson Market Library, Greenwich Village

Official website | Google map location

The Jefferson Market Library in Greenwich Village was a regular spot for me and my study group during first year of graduate school. We convened here almost every Saturday morning in the fall semester for some 2-3 hours. I forget how I came across this library; I imagine it was during a random stroll through the neighborhood when my curiosity got the better of me and I stuck my head inside this red brick tower.

This library is another wonderful space to utilize if you are someone who prefers working in peace and quiet. There is an outdoor garden, but seating is limited. There are three floors to this library. The first floor has a reading room that is reserved for children; I did not realize this the first time I was there, and was respectfully asked to leave. The basement floor is filled with periodicals, magazines, and desktop computers. There is also a rotating art installation (mostly photography). My favorite space, however, has to be the second floor, where the main reading room is.

I love the walk up to the second floor. When you do, you will be greeted by subtle light shining through the stained glass windows. Be sure to look up, so you can enjoy the beautiful ceiling decoration (see photograph above).

The main reading room has plenty of seating options—individual lounge chairs with small tables to rest your reading materials, and long wooden tables to share with other fellow library goers. Along the center of the tables are outlets for you to charge your devices. This room is meant to be a silent reading/writing room. When my study group would meet, we would claim one of the tables in the side room on the second floor. Here, we conversed quietly and most of the time, people would not mind, but one weekend, there was a grumpy old man who kept shushing us (me specifically! and I don’t even consider myself to be loud!).

While the Jefferson Market Library is nearly perfect for working, it has one major flaw: there is no public restroom. My study group and I would sometimes run across the street to Lenwich to use the restroom. Other times, we would move to Mah-Zeh-Dahr, a modern bakery/coffee house that has a large working table in the back, complete with wifi, outlets, restroom, and treat galore. It can get a bit busy here (and there is background music).

*Please note that as of July 7, 2019, the Jefferson Market Library is undergoing renovation and is currently closed :(

#11 Partners Coffee, West Village (formerly Toby’s Estate Coffee)

Official website | Google map location

Partners Coffee (formerly Toby’s Estate Coffee) at the intersection of Charles Street and 7th Avenue South is one of the most intriguing places for people watching (and studying of course!). Perhaps it has something to do with its location, being situated at a 45 degree angle intersection that is reminiscent of the Flatiron building, thereby allowing for ample views of passersby. The place is small and cozy with bar stool-like chairs lining both walls, a few small tables in the center of the room, and a coveted plush sofa that is almost always occupied (one day, I will claim you…). I appreciate the pops of red and blue against an otherwise blank canvas of white-paint exposed brick walls. There are wooden and metallic elements throughout the room, contributing to an industrial chic vibe.

The photograph above is old (you can see the former name printed on the paper cup), but the vibe remains the same for this space. There is always subtle decoration that rotates with the season, mirroring the passing of time. The espresso drinks and the chai latte are delicious. Max is an avid cappuccino drinker and he would say the espresso is on the strong side.

This is a place to stay for hours. There is just about everything that you need to feel comfortable: wifi, a few outlets, a bathroom downstairs (though the wait can be long…), plenty of natural light, background music, and really good drinks and snacks. I have yet to order food here, but I hear it does not disappoint!

Charles Street, which is where this coffee shop is located, is another favorite street in the neighborhood. There is another lovely coffee shop down the street (going west) that is filled with local villagers; it is called The Elk. The sign is barely noticeable, and the coffee shop is tucked away in the quieter end of the street so it is easy to miss. As much as I love The Elk, it is so difficult to find a seat; for this reason, I am not making it an official part of this post. If you do manage to grab a seat, stay and try their grain bowl :) And casually listen in on conversations— they are really fascinating; you will soon notice that this place tends to draw an artist/creative crowd.

#12 Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee, West Village

Official website | Google map location

As our tour nears the end, I would like to introduce you to Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee in West Village, specifically on W 10th Street, which is another quintessential West Village/Greenwich Village street that has so much charm. Max and I are huge fans of brownstones (a love that originates from my time in the greater Boston area) and every time we frequent this neighborhood, we daydream about life in one of them. Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee is part of a chain of coffee shops scattered throughout the city. There is a tiny outpost in my Upper East Side neighborhood, but it is nowhere near as charming as this one.

This particular Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee has perhaps the best window seat (see photograph above), and it is worth it to come here just for an attempt to secure it for an hour or so. Don’t be fooled by the photo, however; the space is small. If I remember correctly there are only 4 small tables, along with a narrow bar-like table along one side of the wall (you would be sitting on bar stools). Most people come here get coffee to go, but I almost always get coffee to stay. The people working here are super kind and immediately make you feel at home.

If you need a study break, there are plenty of interesting photographs to look at for a welcome distraction. Framed photos and artwork cover the walls on all sides. They are great conversation starters with the barista, if that is something you fancy. As for me, I prefer listening to the conversations and observing the various interactions taking place in this intimate space :)

Beginning in 2020, I started going to Jack’s Stir Brew Coffee on the Upper East Side. It is not as charming as the one in West Village, but I’m a huge fan of their Sweet Mary tea drink and the people who work there are SO nice. Plus, there is happy hour Monday through Friday beginning at 4pm (50% off coffee and teas!)

And… that is all for now! I hope this has been an interesting read! I hope to create a part two of my favorite places for my second year living in the city.

As always, thank you for reading and following along both my physical and intellectual journey!

Catherine

It has been many weeks (and definitely well over a month) since I have composed a blog post. So many things in my life have kept me preoccupied during this time—academic coursework, wedding planning, career planning, and of course, New York City itself with its finicky weather patterns and hidden gems. Writing and sharing my thinking through this blog is a personal endeavor for me, and one that I take very seriously because it is so personal in nature. As I am sure I have already expressed elsewhere through my ramblings, writing is an inspirational act for me, and inspiration does not always come when I want it to come, or need it to come (preferably not too close to a deadline!). With blogging, there is no deadline really, as I write not for financial gains but rather as a form of self-expression, self-discovery, and self-care.

During this second semester of graduate school at Teachers College, I have done a lot of experimenting. I would like to honor that with a different kind of blog post. I am not quite sure how to categorize it (there are always category “tags” that I include per entry and I really struggled this time). I almost wanted to create a new category named “experimentation.” but then decided against it because I truly want this to be an experiment that defies categorization. So please excuse the category tags, for they are simply placeholders so that this entry may find its way to you :)

As much as I enjoy writing and playing with words, I often find words constraining. I often struggle with finding the right words to describe a sentiment, to evoke a scene, to capture a phenomenon. Thus, for this particular entry, beyond this intro text, I will try to refrain from using many words.

Drawing inspiration from both Deleuzoguattarian theory of “becoming” and Kathleen Stewart’s evocation of “ordinary affects,” this visual entry is an experiment-in-process with the raw materials of flour, eggs (and some water). Here, I share the simultaneous unraveling and entangling of these materials as they become (through manual labor) dough and eventually homemade farfalle. I will be re-turning (in a Baradian sense; see Karen Barad) and sharing additional insights as I revisit this entry in the near future.

P.S. No fancy equipment was used in the process of dough becoming farfalle. Eventually, I plan to get a pasta maker.

P.P.S. Should I own a rolling pin, this process would have been less labor-intensive. The dough would have also been less dry had I maintained the ratio of flour to egg of 2:1 by mass. I did not have a kitchen balance/scale so had to use my portable luggage scale.

Hope you enjoy my musings…

Starting with two eggs for two portions… these were medium size eggs (I would opt for large eggs next time) weighing about 45 grams each.

Since I do not own a kitchen scale/balance, I used a Ziploc bag to hold the flour, punched a hole in the bag, and used the hook of my luggage scale to measure the weight of the flour. Since precision is not what I was aiming for, I did not zero out the weight of the bag itself. I aimed for about 90 grams of flour (double the mass of the eggs).

Kneading the dough was tricky. I ended up with a little too much flour (I was told that humidity influences how much flour to add and this was a dry day), which made my dough rather flaky. I ended up using water to add moisture (apparently you are NOT supposed to do this).

I also do not own a rolling pin, so I resorted to using my swell bottle to flatten the dough. This was a major challenge. I am told wine bottles are better than swell bottles. Note to self for next time, although by next time, I imagine I will have a proper rolling pin (the local grocers did not carry rolling pins).

Many minutes later… the dough becoming flatter… and smoother… while I am becoming sorer…

This was the flattest i could get my dough without overdoing my arm workout.

Perfection in shape was not something I was aiming for. Given that I had no patience for cutting the dough into linguini-sized noodles, I aimed for farfalle. I also did not care about raw edges— again, this was all for fun and experimentation.

Rectangular dough becoming farfalle… Simply use your thumb and pointer finger to pinch together the middle of the dough to create little bows.

More farfalle… making pasta for two…

It is starting to look like a meal!

Because the dough was freshly made, there was no need to hydrate the pasta. As such, once the water boiled, it only took 2 minutes to achieve an al dente state. It would have taken less time had the pasta been thinner…

Draining the pasta…

Mixed with homemade pesto (store-bought), some freshly cracked black pepper, and salt to taste.

Bon appetit! (This was one portion; I made two bowls of pasta).

I have the sniffles and am sitting on the sofa, trying to decide how to slow down this weekend (at least today) before another hectic week commences. Graduate school for me has been a rollercoaster ride saturated with emotions and filled with uncertainty. There have been good weeks; there have been stressful weeks; there has always been profundity and soul-searching.

New Month, New Focus

To mark the start of March, I decided to change some of the banners on my blog. If you’ve been following along, you will notice that I have changed the original motto from “Inspiring you to engage your personal best and to live life to the fullest” to “always wondering and wandering; never done becoming.” After a few months of immersing myself in course readings, I have become disillusioned with the idea of one’s “personal best.” In fact, I find myself a bit repulsed by all kinds of superlatives, especially “best,” for it suggests a kind of destination—something finite, something hierarchical, something to be had. Furthermore, with regard to living life to the fullest, once again, the notion of “fullest” indicates a saturation point with nothing beyond it. It also suggests accumulation, of having, of collecting, but not of giving and sharing. Finally, I wanted to change the motto because the previous one no longer spoke to me in an authentic manner. This blog has become increasingly more personal in nature, with me sharing whatever is on my mind in a given moment, rather than checking off an item on my agenda of what to write about. As such, I wanted a motto to reflect my current perspective on life, school, work, etc. Recently, the words wondering, wandering, and becoming have been staples in my vocabulary chest, so I thought they would be fitting here.

In addition to changing the site motto, I also changed the welcome message on the homepage. I don’t recall the exact sentence I had prior, but it echoed the sentiments of the original motto. What prompted the change was an email from a dear colleague of mine from my previous school. Her words touched me and awakened me a bit. She made me realize I had reacquired some of my bad habits from the time I was a student (undergraduate and high school). Namely, I had become too concerned about what I want my dissertation to be about and what I want to do after graduate school that I had forgotten about living in the present. Here are her exact words:

"As for soul searching, you aren’t alone. Just remember to enjoy the journey and find your balance as it isn’t the final destination where we find the gems of life, but in the small daily moments.”

So for today’s blog entry, I’m sharing some of my becoming process. Specifically, I’m sharing a written reflection from two days ago that I made public to my peers in a course I’m taking this semester.

My “Thoughts in the Making” Regarding Recent Course Readings

I would like to preface by stating that this reflection is a “thought-in-the-making”—in the words of Manning (2016)—and a state of “becoming”—in the words of Deleuze and Guattari (1987)—and that I shall follow-up on my thinking throughout the semester. I realize I am posting this reflection past the recommended time of Monday. The reality is, I struggled with putting my thoughts, my thinking, and my feelings with this week’s readings in words and in a linear manner. Part of this dilemma has likely to do with my non-linear, non-neurotypical approach (Manning, 2016) to this week’s readings. Inspired both by Deleuze and Guattari’s (1987) “ontology of becoming” and “body without organs” and by Manning’s (2016) notion of “neurodiversity” (which, by the way, is not a new concept, but was presented in a way that layered more meaning, evoked more feeling, and provoked more thinking in me), I decided to do some wandering and wondering of my own when exploring the readings.

I skipped around while reading the introduction and chapters 1-4, sometimes reading forward, other times reading backward. I took breaks to listen to Manning speak, and took time to think about what the “minor gesture” (Manning, 2016) means to me, my teaching practice, and what it can do for my own dissertation in the future. As such, much of this reflection is personal in nature, which I think made it a little difficult for me to share publicly, because in the back of my mind, I keep self-monitoring, believing this reflection should be more “academic.” For much of this week, I found myself in a state of confusion, of being lost, of becoming. In many ways, I felt like a “student without organs,” thinking about “what bodies can do” (Manning, 2016). Here I am, a doctoral student pushing on the boundaries (set by my past experiences of schooling) of what it means to be a good student.

Let me clarify what I mean. Much of my understanding of being a student—a good student—has been shaped by the notions of productivity and performance. A good student talks and participates by contributing verbally in class. A good student writes academic papers of a defined structure and gets evaluated by a teacher, who is seen as the expert knower in the space of school. Productivity and performance should be visible, and thus measurable, often by an outsider or someone who possesses knowledge in its final form.

Both the readings from last week and this week interrupt this thinking and understanding. They push on dominant forms of discourse of doing, being, thinking—or “common sense” ways that Manning (2016) calls “neurotypical” or part of the major (grand gestures). Like Deleuze and Guattari (1987) does in their book A Thousand Plateaus, Manning calls for us to pay attention, to slow down, and be more porous to all kinds of openings and potentials. She calls for us (or at least me) to embrace all of our senses, not just the dominant one that relates to spoken language. Her thinking aligns with the work she does; I learned from outside sources that Manning is not only a philosopher in an academic institution, but also a dancer and an artist (who also teaches studio art to a very neurodiverse cohort of students, many of whom are autistic, whose main mode of communication lies outside of the neurotypical). In light of this context, it makes sense to me her interests in movement, in expression that is “artful,” in “thinking in the moving,” in “bodying” (Manning, 2016), in becoming, and in constructive alternative spaces that allow for creative and imaginative ways of connecting, thinking, participating, being, and belonging.

Manning’s (2016) work on the minor gesture (of which she claims she is no expert), reminds me of the other related work in the field of dis/ability studies. My thinking drifted to a video I watched last semester called “In My Own Language” that moved me tremendously, because of how it disrupted the dichotomy of giftedness/disability and made me think of everyone as belonging on some kind of continuum, with both gifts and vulnerabilities. The woman in the video helped me hear the music in “noise,” and experience order in chaos, in a manner that is not unlike Manning’s call for us to be more perceptive of minor gestures that lurk in in-between spaces, between and beneath other spaces, and that have potential that we should not overlook. The woman in the video also conceptualizes language as something that is constantly in conversation and in interaction with the surroundings (both human and non-human). She forces us to question why this form of communication and way of thinking cannot be just as legitimate as neurotypical ways of “languaging.”

There was a quote from a later chapter in Manning’s (2016) book that made me stop and think (actually, many one-liners did this for me throughout the book):

It is often said that disability is not what happens to the body—it is not about the state of the body. Disability is about a culture that does not accommodate diversity. So it is not the body (alone) that is disabled; the culture is disabled in its incapacity to create accommodations that allow for difference—different kinds of bodying—to exist.” (p. 193)

This quote connects many of the ideas we discussed last week (rhizome, becoming, bodies without organs, openings, entanglements, etc.). It also relates to the video I watched last semester because of the focus on what bodies are capable of doing, communicating, thinking, and becoming. “What a body can do is change,” says Manning (2016). Among the many takeaways (and many thoughts that remain in my head) is the notion of celebrating diverse was of being in the world. And this includes "being" as a student, as a teacher, as a researcher.

Video for Your Consideration

Two days after I submitted my reflection, I came across this video/lecture given by Erin Manning, the author of The Minor Gesture. I listened to it last night and was happy to hear some of my own voice and thinking communicated by her. I guess this is what we call “resonance.” It is a worthy listen!

Thank you for following along!

Catherine

 References

Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). Introduction: Rhizome. In B. Massumi (Trans.), A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia (pp. 3–25). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Manning, E. (2016). The Minor Gesture. North Carolina, UNITED STATES: Duke University Press. Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/teacherscollege-ebooks/detail.action?docID=4528997

Dear Reader,

I have started and restarted, attempted and reattempted, erased and tossed out multiple versions of this blog post. There have been many mental blocks that have prevented me from posting a new entry for this blog. For this reason, it has nearly been a month since I last wrote an extended post for my blog. Let me elaborate…

On Writing

Many new and exciting developments have taken place in my life this year—some small and some large. I have started a new part-time job as a writing consultant, been working with teachers in the city on their own inquiry work, participated in a podcast to give recommendations on coffee houses, and taken advantage of the city’s many cultural gems—just to name a few. I have tried to capture and share snippets of these new adventures on Instagram—the only social media site that I have been using consistently. For some funny reason, I find myself less inhibited when sharing thoughts through photographs. Perhaps this is because I think to myself, if my photographs are interesting to look at, then there is less pressure for me to write something substantial and significant. If my content suffers a little, well, then hopefully the photograph will compensate. The same logic does not quite work for my blog posts, even though I have been posting more photographs as well, for the reason that I simply do not post frequently enough. So the pressure is on when I do write, because I want to do it well, and the high bar I set for myself does not make the process any easier.

I’m sharing all of this because of my desire to make my thinking visible. Many people I have encountered throughout my life have told me that I am a good writer and have suggested that writing must come easily to me. My response is usually a mix of bafflement and appreciation. Yes… while I find contributing my ideas in writing to be easier than saying them out loud, I do not find writing to be an easy task, even with practice. It is almost always a daunting task, and given how hypercritical I am of myself and my own writing, it is usually an ordeal.

I write many recommendation letters for students; I write response papers and essays for class; I write weekly progress reports for my tutees. While these forms of writing differ, they have two major aspects in common: one, they are structured, and two, they all have a definite due date. Writing for personal reasons—writing because I choose to— is a completely different endeavor, and writing for a public (anonymous) audience can be terrifying. On certain days, the more I think about what it is that I’m doing with this blog, the more I retreat from writing because of the vulnerability I feel from putting myself out there. Sometimes, I feel that my writing is too shallow; other times, I wonder what my ultimate point is. With blogging becoming more and more entrepreneurial these days, I find myself lost in what I’m doing and sometimes wonder whether this is sustainable.

As I described in the “About” section, I blog both for myself and for others in my community. This blog is my attempt at documenting the changes in different aspects of my life as I navigate the neverending growing up process (which, for me, involves a lot of education). At the same time, it is my way of making sense of the world around me, and to share with readers how I have “made life work” in some ways, what I’m still trying to figure out, and who I want to be/what I want to do with my life. I openly admit that I do not have it all figured out, and for this reason, I sometimes hesitate giving advice and writing blog posts with titles like “10 things you should do…” or “How to be a more successful student…” I find these prescriptive and presumptive, and I am very self-conscious of the power dynamics involved. Furthermore, I don’t see myself as an expert, and sometimes ask myself, “What makes me credible as a writer of these posts?” What I find fascinating is that it is titles like these that catch readers’ attention and that draw an audience to the blog from search engines. With a title like what I have for this post, very few people care to bother reading. What does this say about what we value as readers these days? What does it say about what appeal blogs have for people? What does it say about what we need and seek from others? As a self-proclaimed introvert, I spend a lot of time in my own head, and even more now, given my status as a full-time graduate student of the Humanities, where thinking, reading, listening, and writing occupy nearly 99% of my time. Everything is moving so quickly—the city, time, technological advancements, scientific discoveries—that it can be hard to keep up and to try to make sense of it all. I write to process, to reflect, to identify trends, and to think about next steps.

On Thinking

When I compare my lifestyle to that of my fiancé Max, who is regularly on “long calls” for a busy cancer hospital in New York City, I am often reminded of the life of luxury that I have as a student. Whereas Max has to get up early in the morning, I have the option to sleep in until 10am on certain days. Whereas his productivity is measured by the number of patient notes he writes per hour, or the number of Google scholar citations he has, or the number of publications (as a first author, really) he has accumulated, my productivity is less defined. And I have struggled with this massively since starting graduate school.

The notion of productivity is complex, and the more I think about what we mean when we say “I have been so productive today,” the more disillusioned I become. Productivity is so often measured by what we can see, by what is tangible, by what we show others as evidence, and by what we think others will consider praiseworthy. So much of our own productivity is dictated by something or someone outside of us. I cleaned the apartment; I was productive because the apartment looks nice again. I finished a paper for class; I was productive because it is one less assignment and I’m getting closer to receiving credit for the course. I ran several errands; I was productive because these were tasks on my to-do list and I physically crossed the items off. I tutored for three hours; I was productive because my tutees felt they learned something new, and I got paid for my time and service, so I must be valuable. How do we measure productivity when we do something that is truly for ourselves, that is more of a process, and that may not be easily perceptive? I’m talking about the behind-the-scenes work of a project; I’m talking about the thinking process involved in so much that we do; I’m talking about spending time with family and friends just because you care and you want to, not to accomplish some goal, or complete a kind of transaction.

Sometimes hours pass by when I’m lost in my own thoughts, and I feel guilty for “wasting” time “doing nothing.” I have been trained (or in the words of philosopher Michel Foucault, disciplined and self-disciplined) to produce, produce, produce, and to do so efficiently, that when I slow down and take time to think and reflect, I feel as though I am not doing anything worthwhile, because I’m not contributing “labor” to society in a way that has been “defined” to me by others, because I am doing something for myself, with a purpose to be determined. Productivity, in this way, can be oppressive and anything but liberating. What happened to learning for learning’s sake? What happened to embracing “down time” without being judged by others of being “lazy.” Just because someone is not running around frantically does not mean the person isn’t doing meaningful work. Just because a person leaves work on time (such as when the bell rings in school), does not mean that person is less hardworking than someone who stays hours behind the desk/bench/computer. Just because a student does not speak up in class does not automatically mean he/she did not do the required work and does not have good ideas to share… Productivity is so much about how we use our time in a way that is visible to others. Why should others be the arbiter of our productivity? Because of all of this thinking on my part, I sometimes feel silly having written a blog post about improving productivity.

On Wandering

I lead a somewhat nomadic lifestyle here in the city. I wander a lot, both in terms of my thoughts and in terms of actual movement in the city. Instagram followers of @booksmartstreetsmartblog (the account that supplements my blog) know that I post many photographs of where I spend my time in the city. Instagram, like all social media sites, often give an illusion of a person’s life; what we see is what the user most likely wants us to see. In other words, we rarely see the complete story; instead, the narrative presented to us is often in its “final form” and has been curated, or filtered in some way (artistically and/or content-wise). I’d like to think that we all know this, but I sometimes have to remind myself of this reality because I, too, can fall into the trap of comparing my life with that of others.

Let me be clear: I am very well aware that I, too, am curating what I choose to post on Instagram. I post photographs from my on-foot journeys across the city that I deem to be special in some way—whether it is the angle, the colors, the atmosphere, or the people. I often edit my photos to better bring out certain colors; I sometimes play with contrast and exposure to show the contours of a landscape; I sometimes remove colors all together to focus on the people and their expressions (instead of being distracted by the colors). And yes, I do occasionally use filters! What I do not do, however, is alter or enhance people; quite frankly, I very rarely post photographs of myself. The account is not about me; rather, it is about a shared community, and about sharing my experiences, the joys in my life, as well as the frustrations.

A person who quickly scans through the photographs I have posted might draw a couple of conclusions:

1. Catherine has a lot of free time.

2. Catherine spends a lot of money.

3. Catherine does not have a real job.

As someone who thinks a lot (see above), I have thought a lot about how I may be perceived (and misunderstood) by what I post, especially by those who do not read the long caption below each of my photographs. While I do not have an official full-time job at the moment, I consider being a full-time student my job. It is more work (mental work, emotional labor, etc.) than many may think. At the same time, I have multiple part-time jobs, for which I am paid, sometimes in the form of tuition reimbursement and other times in actual money that gets deposited into my bank account. Education in the U.S. is expensive and I am paying for it myself; my parents have enough to deal with financially. As for spending money, there’s some truth to that. Max and I do takeout more and more now, because of the limited time we have to cook together. After some tracking of expenses, however, I have learned that it is often cheaper to order food than to buy groceries for a meal. Isn’t that sad? Groceries are so expensive in the city…

I have more independent time than Max does (who does hold a full-time job); however, independent time is not necessarily “free time.” I use my time to read, to listen to lectures, to write—all of which is required for my job as a student. It might appear to be “free” but it isn’t really. I prefer, however, to spend this time in coffee shops around the city instead of in the libraries at Columbia. That is a personal choice. I am a restless person who gets uneasy spending extended time in official learning spaces. Plus, I love exploring places by foot. There is plenty to experience in the city, which I see as an extension of my rented apartment. It is a luxury to be able to live and study in a city like New York City, so I plan to take full advantage of it. Money spent on coffee shops does add up over time, but I consider it rent money. I don’t get coffee to go; I usually stay for some 1-3 hours to make the $6 (with tip) cappuccino/latte/chai worth it!

Sometimes, wandering can lead you to some unexpected opportunities. As some of you know from Instagram, my coffee house escapades caught the attention of Locasaur, and so I was invited to be part of a podcast to share some of my favorite coffee shops in the city. You can listen to it directly in the browser here (see below), or find it by searching for “Locasaurus Recs” in podcasts. I will be posting separately about the podcast, about the Locasaur app, and will share more about the individual coffee shops mentioned in that conversation.

On In-betweenness

If there is a word that I feel best describes much of my life experiences, it would be the word “in-betweenness.” Now that I am back in school and trying to figure out the next phase of my life, the space of in-betweenness is even more palpable. As a doctoral student, you are being prepared to be a constructor of knowledge, and not be an absorber of currently existing knowledge (although that is part of the training; hence, the abundance of reading). When all of schooling prior to graduate school has focused more on knowledge attainment rather than knowledge creation, this switch can be challenging, and I’m feeling it. And I’m feeling lost and uncertain along the way. What kind of knowledge do I want to contribute? What type of knowledge can I contribute? What are the gaps in our understanding that I can help fill?

This notion of in-betweenness also pertains to time and place. Although I’m a U.S. citizen now, I did not grow up here as a young child. Rather, after spending my first 2.5 years in China with my grandparents, I moved to Stockholm, Sweden to join my parents who were pursuing their advanced degrees. As a young Asian girl with black hair, dark brown eyes, and no knowledge of Swedish, I couldn’t stand out more. But that was OK. I lived and learned in Sweden until almost the age of 9, and while I was very much aware of my own differences (and that of my parents), these differences did not disadvantage me in any way. We were all different to some extent and that just made playing more interesting. However, despite spending almost 7 years in Sweden, I never considered myself Swedish. When I moved to the U.S., I was almost 9 years of age, and that was another new chapter of my life, during which I had to learn my third language. Once again, I was in a new place, lost and uncertain, and had to find my way. Because of my many travels at a young age, I never quite know how to respond when a person asks me, “Where are you from"?” Where am I from? I usually end up telling the whole story of my journeys, because there is not a single place that defines me the most— all of them have shaped me into the person I am today.

As for time, I’m in another in-between space. I’m about to turn 29, and I’m a first-year student in a program that will likely take me 5-6 years to complete. So I find myself in this in-between space of student/learner and former teacher/educator. To complicate things, I’m working as a writing consultant and private tutor while being a student, so I have a variety of roles that I’m trying to navigate. This in-between space is so much about embracing multiple aspects of your identity and knowing how to go with the flow. At 29 now, family is obviously on my mind. Many of my friends and former classmates already have families of their own, with 1-2 (and even 3!) kids, along with a few pets. As a professional woman, sometimes you feel yourself pulled in so many directions, which ultimately leaves you frozen in place. So I find myself in this in-between time of still feeling very naive and child-like when in reality, I’m a fully grown adult, and on top of this, I have thoughts of having a family of my own in the near future. It is all very unsettling in my head.

Are you finding yourself in some kind of in-betweenness? How are you dealing with it? I’d be so eager to know!

Other Ruminations

Below are some additional curious things that I have watched/listened to that I would highly recommend!

• A new interpretation of Beethoven’s 5th:

• A TED Talk titled “The power of women’s anger” by Soraya Chemaly (I discovered this via the TED Talks Daily podcast):

• My first time exposed to Posthumanist thought/the Posthuman condition via a talk by Rosi Braidotti:

That’s it for now!

As always, thank you for following along and bearing with me as I sort through life! :)

Warmly,

Catherine

There are many ways in which differences are established in our schools. One way is through direct instruction of content through established curricula. Sexual education, health, and science curricula are particularly fertile grounds for analyses of how differences between boys and girls are produced. When it comes to sex, western culture is “deeply committed to the idea that there are only two sexes” (Fausto-Sterling, 1996, p. 68) and this is what is taught; the natural existence of hermaphrodites (herms, merms, and ferms)—the other sexes—are discounted as abnormal despite their critical mass as a “minority.” Science and health textbooks, instead of embracing intermediate sexes, reinforce binaries, which are easy to grasp, so students learn about the dominant forms of biological sex. Furthermore, sexuality in most curricula is confined to heterosexuality, which is embraced as the norm, while all others are considered “deviant sexualities.” Discussions of marriage and family often invisibilize LGBTQ+ sexuality and relationships as they are not considered legitimate by conventional standards (Allen, 2008). Even though social tides are turning and people are becoming more open-minded, curricular reform is slow. According to Allen (2008), when it comes to implementing sexual education curricula, many schools still prefer the “abstinence only” model. This one-sided approach deemphasizes students’ sexual identity, considers them “unable to make positive sexual decisions” (p. 588), and is “concerned with securing their conformity” (p. 590). The overall tone is one of management and repression rather than empowerment and support in engaging with public concerns surrounding student sexuality, teenage parenthood, and abortion—all of which are not clear-cut. Even the “FLASH” (2018) sexual education curriculum (which is more inclusive than most) relies heavily on the status, legitimacy, and objectivity of science to justify the validity and value of what is presented as mainstream knowledge. For example, there are puberty- and sexuality-related activities, discussions, and assignments that make those individuals who deviate from established norms (i.e. intersex individuals, transgender students, girls who don’t shave, etc.) stand out. By making them more visible, this potentially makes them more vulnerable, uncomfortable, and even ashamed, which may have the effect of individuals self-regulating their appearance and “training” their “unruly” bodies to fit into cultural/gender norms and socially acceptable categories. Just as sexual education is too often objectified, disembodied, and out-of-touch, so is science education frequently delivered in a sterile, objective, and binary-laden manner devoid of affect and controversy. The curriculum sometimes repackages natural diversity in humans in a way that highlights difference, with differences arising from mutations (which, by their very nature can be beneficial, deleterious, or neutral, yet somehow carry negative connotations in our culture). My highlighting the predominant variations in biological features as “normal” and the rare variations as “abnormal,” binaries like male/female are further defined in relation to one another, thereby reinforcing the distinction between the opposing terms.

Besides curricula, physical school structures also create and communicate inherent differences in students and maintain heterosexuality and cis-gender identity as the norm. For instance, bathrooms are rarely unisex. Rather, they are designated as for boys/men or for girls/women, with no physical space for those who question their sexual identity or do not feel comfortable with either. Likewise, locker rooms for gym classes and sports teams are usually divided in the same manner, bolstering the legitimacy of the two dominant sexes/genders.

A third way that schools maintain differences is through educators intentionally and unintentionally modeling gender norms and/or adopting gender-bound practices. Contrary to common (misinformed) beliefs about the genetic differences between boys and girls, “no mental ability—or ability difference—is ‘hardwired’ into the brain…[rather] environmental factors are important in shaping gender gaps” (Eliot, 2010, p. 33). As such, schooling and the range of experiences, people, and materials that go along with it play a central role in shaping a student’s sense of self and what is considered normal/abnormal. Sometimes, educators who form assumptions about or judge their students too quickly will produce or maintain differences between sexes. I have seen teachers delegate specific tasks requiring various skills along gender lines, with boys taking on the more analytical, abstract, scientific, or physical jobs and the girls tackling the artistic, verbal, or organizational roles. This is not unlike the supposed “best practice” of helping girls grasp more abstract concepts by making concrete connections to the real world (Lesko & McCall, 2014). Likewise, during certain whole-class competitive activities, I have witnessed the teacher dividing the class into boys against girls, regarding this as a natural and innocuous grouping of students. For some teachers, this behavior is naturalized and reflexive, so much that it does not even occur to them that this act of separation by gender can be exclusive or hurtful to students. I sometimes wonder where we learned that it is okay to discriminate along gendered lines but not along racial or class lines? Is part of the reason sex difference is tolerated because of the widespread myth that such difference is backed by neuroscience (Eliot, 2010)?

Still sometimes, implicit differences between boys/girls are communicated to students by no fault of the school and simply by the rules governing probability. For instance, by chance, the teachers of physical education, physics, calculus, computer science, and economics may all be male, whereas the teachers of art/drawing, biology, English, sociology, health, and chorus are coincidentally all female. Since students often look up to their teachers as role models, such an obsolete distribution of teachers may create the impression and reinforce the stereotype that boys/men are better fit for STEM subjects—especially the “hard sciences”—and jobs emphasizing spatial and numerical skills, while girls/women are better suited for pursuing humanities, the “soft sciences,” aesthetic fields, and jobs highlighting verbal communication skills. For many students, their grasp of reality and understanding of opportunities and options for themselves are largely influenced by what they see and whom they are exposed to. Indeed, as Lesko and McCall (2014) write, “Larger and larger differences in physical activeness, literacy, and spatial awareness are produced through gender-differentiated activities and expectations rather than through hard-wiring” (p. 6). Thus, there is a need to bring more diversity into classrooms so that students are exposed to more perspectives, varying experiences, and different identities for intellectual engagement that is not bound to gender (Eliot, 2010). Especially in science classrooms, there is a need to reform the “traditional” science curriculum (which is quite “masculine,” elitist, and exclusive) to be more compatible with various “student gender and ethnic identities [to] generate a wide range of scientist subjectivities… and thus open the way towards a more inclusive science curriculum” (Hughes, 2001).

As was alluded to earlier, a consequence of maintaining such systems of differences is a reduction of the existing diversity and complexity of identities. On the extreme end of such systems, single-gender classes have been described as offering “a narrower range of learning needs” (Lesko & McCall, 2014, p. 12), and likely contributing to further reductions of what it means to be a boy/man or girl/woman. With regard to the acceptable sexes, Fausto-Sterling (1996) describes hermaphrodites as having “unruly bodies [as] they do not fall naturally into a binary classification” (p. 71); in doing so, she surfaces the anxiety our contemporary society still has around individuals who embody uncertainty and ambiguity, and who blur the borders that were intentionally set up to maintain order and to control bodies. It is precisely the perceived threat of the less-known and the grey-zones to our traditional beliefs about difference that motivate the reproduction of systems of difference in our schools. Schools, after all, are constructed to be “safe spaces” for students, and somehow safe has come to equal conflict-free, controversy-free, lack of ambiguity, neat, orderly, manageable, and predictable. I find it paradoxical that it is our discomfort with and unwillingness to openly engage with ideas and individuals outside of the norm that generates greater divisions in schools and contributes to intolerance and phobias of all kinds. In the end, it is questionable whose safety is prioritized—that of the students or that of the traditional institution of schooling?

Other likely effects are exclusion and oppression of those who deviate from the neat, unifaceted identities established and perpetuated in schools. By actively or indirectly molding students with regard to gender, schools negate the intersections of race, ethnicity, class, ability, and religion, and discount how these other factors aid in the construction of identity, especially forms of “femininity” and “masculinity.” With the intense focus on differences between boys and girls, schools ignore variations that exist within girls, such as how “different femininities exist and have greater or lesser status, opportunities, and expectations” (Lesko & McCall, 2014, p. 14). The same is true for boys/men and the different masculinities (ranging from fag to hypermasculine) and associated statuses (Pascoe, 2007; Richardson, 2012). Identities are rich, complex, and multi-layered. Too often do schools focus on specific layers of differences instead of seeing students holistically in terms of all their unique strengths and abilities, and in terms of the other ways in which they may be marginalized in schools. Ferri and Connor (2010) reveal how school-based disability labels are often assigned along race and class lines, creating additional hierarchies of difference between students. The study shows how that the social stigma associated with being “special ed. girls” (p. 109) is more damaging for girls than for boys. It also demonstrates how the structures and materials of schools produce differences in students by making them measurable, visible, and trackable. Instead of critiquing the disparity in material environment and/or circumstantial disadvantage, students’ failure to succeed is often attributed to their individual choice, personal incompetence, or lack of will or interest (McCready, 2009).

The exclusion, oppression, and reduction of diversity described above may contribute to an increase in all kinds of mental health issues in today’s youth who may feel trapped in their own bodies, suffer from imposter syndrome and insecurity, or blame themselves for being different. As educators, we can challenge these systems of differences by intentionally blurring the lines of borders governing sex, gender, and what is normal/abnormal. One specific way is to deliberately go against the normalized “gender script” in our own classrooms, such as by cross-dressing (Foresta, 2016). Additionally, educators can contribute to “queering” the curriculum by moving away from binaries and “locat[ing] all the in-between spaces” (Halberstam, 2011, p. 2), especially in science and sexual education. This might include teaching beyond biological sex, expanding to terms like gender identity, gender expression, and sexual orientation, and giving students both the space to ask uncomfortable questions and the time to work through them together. As educators, we should advocate for alternative narratives and perspectives, and ways of being beyond the dominant. As Halberstam (2011) insightfully reveals, “Today in the university we spend far less time thinking about counterhegemony than about hegemony” (p. 17). However educators choose to disrupt differences, they should do so as a school. In doing so, one might find inspiration in Ms. Jackson’s efforts to explore transgender identity as a school community—efforts that pushed both teachers and students “out of their comfort zones in valuable ways” (Jackson, 2016, p. 318). In sum, we need more supportive and safe opportunities to experience discomfort and to learn to become comfortable with not being in our optimal comfort zone. If we make this the new norm, more people might see differences, conflict, and disagreement as constructive and productive rather than as inherently negative and problematic.

References

Allen, L. (2008). ‘They think you shouldn’t be having sex anyway’: Young people’s suggestions for improving sexuality education content. Sexualities, 11(5), 573–594.

Eliot, L. (2010). The myth of pink and blue brains. Educational Leadership, November, 32–36.

Fausto-Sterling, A. (1996). The five sexes: Why male and female are not enough. In K. E. Rosenblum & T. C. Travis (Eds.), The meaning of difference: American constructions of race, sex and gender, social class, and sexual orientation (pp. 68–73). New York: McGraw-Hill.

Ferri, B. A., & Connor, D. J. (2010). ‘I was the special ed. girl’: urban working‐class young women of colour. Gender and Education, 22(1), 105–121.

FLASH Family Life and Sexual Health Curriculum. (2018). Retrieved November 25, 2018, from http://www.kingcounty.gov/healthservices/health/personal/famplan/educators/flash.aspx

Foresta, C. M. (2016). Dressing Up. In A. Butler-Wall, K. Cosier, R. L. S. Harper, J. Sapp, J. Sokolower, & M. Bollow Tempel (Eds.), Rethinking sexism, gender, and sexuality (pp. 92–96). Milwaukee: Rethinking Schools.

Halberstam, J. (2011). Introduction: Low theory. In Queer Failure (pp. 1–26). Raleigh: Duke University Press.

Hughes, G. (2001). Exploring the availability of student science identities within curriculum discourse: An anti-essentialist approach to gender-inclusive science. Gender and Education, 13(3), 275–290.

Jackson, M. (2016). We Begin to Know Each Other. In A. Butler-Wall, K. Cosier, R. L. S. Harper, J. Sapp, J. Sokolower, & M. Bollow Tempel (Eds.), Rethinking sexism, gender, and sexuality (pp. 310–318). Milwaukee: Rethinking Schools.

Lesko, N., & McCall, S. (2014). Pink brains and education: A postfeminist analysis of neuroscience and neurosexism. Revista Brasileira de História Da Educação (Special Issue on the History of Childhood and Youth), 14(2), 163–190.

McCready, L. T. (2009). Troubles of black boys in urban schools in the United States: Black feminist and gay men’s perspectives. In M. B. Weaver-Hightower & M. Kehler (Eds.), The problem with boys’ education: Beyond the backlash (pp. 124–148). New York: Routledge.

Pascoe, C. J. (2007). Dude, you’re a fag: Masculinity and sexuality in high school. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Richardson, S. (2012). eleMENtary school: (Hyper)masculinity in a feminized context. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers.

As for blogging, I have made revisions to some of my original goals. For one, I realize that my original plan of posting a new blog entry every Friday is not realistic; I will be glad if I can regularly post every two weeks, so that is a more realistic goal. Another change I am making is to share “book smarts” and “street smarts” tips regularly on Instagram by embedding them within my daily reflections. I find that I reach a wider audience through Instagram, and that the exchange is more casual. For those who don’t use Instagram, I promise to convert those casually reported tips into more formal and structured blog entries.

To start off this year, I am sharing 19 ideas (in honor of 2019!) for “New Year’s resolutions” for college-bound students. Even if college is not on your radar at the moment, you may still find these ideas to be relevant to you. Likewise, if you are already in college, it does not hurt to skim through the list and see what you are doing already and what you might want to consider as a goal. If there is interest (let me know in the comments below or by filling out a contact form), I’m happy to write a similar post for soon-to-be college graduates and even for graduate school-bound students. Please know that everything I share through this blog is based on my own life experiences, so some of my ideas may be more or less relevant to you— I will let you decide what is worth taking away. My goal is not to prescribe “to-do” tasks but rather to suggest ideas to think about when the time is right for you. If you have ideas of your own, please share, as I can learn from you as well! :)

I hope these ideas help you get started as you navigate the growing up process this year, and please feel free to share widely!

Idea #1: Start building a professional wardrobe

The new year is a good time to start investing in professional clothes or inheriting some from older siblings if you share the same size. More expensive isn’t necessarily better, especially as you are starting out (unless money isn’t an issue for you or your family). What matters most is the fit! A preowned blazer purchased at a consignment store that you get tailored to fit you perfectly is better than a brand new one that doesn’t compliment your body shape. Fit is everything. When I started my first year teaching at a public high school, I was 23 years old, sharing an apartment with my boyfriend (who was doing his medical training and did not have much of a salary). I had many bills to pay, a car to maintain, insurance to cover, and not much in savings. My previous biomedical research position did not allow me to save much, as I was paying for tuition, licensure, and all kinds of standardized tests.

Despite my financial situation, I knew that how I presented myself would make a big difference in my career, or at least in my self-confidence in teaching teenagers (mostly juniors in high school), most of whom I knew would be taller than me. Yes, really! At 5 feet and 3/4 of an inch and 95 lbs, I don’t really have a commanding presence. And as a soft-spoken Asian woman on top of that, I knew I was far from the standard authority figure. That was okay with me, though, because I never wanted to be seen as an authority figure, at least not with my own students. To earn their trust and respect, I had to show them trust and respect. Part of that meant taking the job seriously by dressing professionally. I wanted to dress like I meant business; I wanted my dress to convey confidence, although deep inside I was super nervous! I thought to myself, if I look prepared, perhaps I will start to feel more prepared.

During my first year on the job, more than half of my entire wardrobe consisted of items I purchased in thrift stores; I looked for quality fabric and vintage pieces that I could update by getting them tailored by a professional tailor. Most of the pieces I picked up cost less than $10 and were of better quality than some of the new pieces I bought (in general, fabric was higher quality in the past…). The alterations I got done usually cost double or triple the price of the original item but the end result was a pencil skirt or blazer that fit me perfectly. I had great luck finding pencil skirts and sweaters that were 100% wool or cashmere, but had no luck with pants (I have short legs and even getting long pants hemmed doesn’t quite do it because of the proportions and fit). I would not recommend purchasing shoes at thrift stores (consignment stores are a different thing), and definitely no underwear!! Accessories like scarves are great but beware of items that you wear as an inner layer. When shopping at thrift stores, be sure to wash items really well before you wear them, as well as before getting anything tailored because fabric tends to shrink in the washer/dryer. 

Idea #2: Get yourself ready with independent financial accounts

Open up a bank account. Get a debit card. Apply for a credit card if you have some kind of active income, so that you can start building a credit history. I wrote about the basics of credit and debit cards here. If you are under the age of 18, you can have a credit card as an authorized user under a primary holder’s account (i.e. parent). If you are at least 18, you can have your own independent credit card, as long as you show that you have an income source. Additionally, get a single checkbook (usually contains 25 checks). You will likely need it if you plan to work while in school. I opened up my own bank account during my senior year of high school. I had saved a bit of money from the numerous part-time jobs I had tutoring, doing gigs as part of a string quartet, and working as a volunteer coordinator for a non-profit organization. My parents took me to Bank of America and helped me with the process. Read more about the specifics of this experience here.

Idea #3: Learn the art of writing thank you notes

By thank you notes I mean handwritten thank you notes—not just texts or emails. Call me old-fashioned, but I very much believe in the value of a physical thank you card. So work on your handwriting, just enough that it is legible, no matter how brilliant you are. And start writing thank you notes today—to your friends when you receive a gift; to your family members when they do something nice for you; to your teachers who care about you and work their butt off for you; to your school counselors who help you navigate the college process, among many other things; to your boss, supervisor, advisor, or anyone else whom you are learning from. Practice gratitude. It’s essential for fulfillment and happiness. And it’s just a nice thing to thank people who do nice things. I think in general we can treat everyone in our shared world with more kindness. 

Idea #4: Set up a LinkedIn profile (or at least google what it is)

Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter should not be the only social media or networks you are part of. Even if you are not ready to set up a LinkedIn profile, start keeping track of your learning experiences, jobs, internships, and projects. Write a few sentences about what your role was, what responsibilities you had, and what skills you learned or developed. Also note when you pursued this experience or activity. This information will come in handy when you create a LinkedIn profile or when you write your first resume or curriculum vitae (CV). What are these, you ask? Now is a good time to google all of these terms! You can find a sample CV here—I just updated mine earlier this week. If you are ready to set up your LinkedIn profile, be sure you have a professional photo to use. You can use a school photo, or, if you are ready to make the ultimate investment, you can get a professional headshot taken. I highly recommend Hector Pachas, who took the photo I’m using on my LinkedIn profile.

Idea #5: Go grocery shopping with family

Yes, really! Go grocery shopping with family to get a sense of how much everyday items cost. Gain an awareness of what you need for everyday life when you live on your own, and how often you need to purchase these items. Learn what is a reasonable price for toiletries, for various produce, and for basics like milk and bread. Even if you plan on eating dining hall food during college, you might find yourself living off campus at some point and will need to know the basics. This is a good time to learn not to take certain things for granted. And while we are on this topic, also inform yourself of the cost of a haircut, of getting pants hemmed, of resoling shoes, and of dry cleaning an interview outfit. That way, you can start budging for these.

Idea #6: Learn to do your own laundry

The growing up process involves becoming independent. Some individuals grow up faster than others, often out of need. Growing up in the Cheng household, I had chores (and they were unpaid! My parents did not believe in allowances, and I’m actually quite grateful for this in retrospect). Besides washing dishes by hand and helping out with cleaning, I learned to do my own laundry at an early age. Don’t feel ashamed if you have no idea how to do laundry; it is never too late to learn! Even if you plan to live at home while in school, it’s a grown-up thing to do. Don’t be the 25-year old adult who has no idea. Sure, you can outsource this job and pay someone else to do your laundry, but let’s be real, college is expensive, and life after college does not get any cheaper. If you don’t want to ask a parent how to do laundry, stay tuned for a future post on the basics. There’s also no shame in googling this! 

Idea #7: Understand the costs and maintenance involved in keeping a car

I didn’t have a car until I graduated from college (I was late to the whole driving thing) and had to learn everything on my own about keeping a car. I did my own research on how much oil changes should cost, when to start getting full synthetic oil changes, how to find out when your brakes are no longer doing what they’re supposed to do, and what it means when your turn signal flashes at double the frequency (FYI, with a Honda Civic, it means one of your headlights or rear lights are about to die out so get the bulb changed ASAP). And if you already have a car (lucky you!), be good about documenting all the work done to your car and keep receipts! Be informed. I used to keep a large envelope in the glove compartment for storing receipts. I’ll share a personal story later on about how saving receipts helped me enormously!

Idea #8: Shop less

But if you insist on shopping, then buy fewer, better things. Better as in higher quality. Not just fast fashion. This is also a good year to develop some good habits. For example, make a list on your phone of items you truly want or actually need. Think about this for a full week and keep adding things as you think of them. When you think you are done listing, then you may start shopping. Only buy items that are on your list, and not because something catches your eye while you are on a shopping trip or because something is super trendy at the moment (I have made my fair share of impulse purchases and regret them later on). Resist the urge to be tempted by the moment. If you make your list carefully, you should not need to add to it much. Revisit this list every 6 months or every year. Revise as necessary, but do not revise every month, or worse, every week! That defeats the purpose. Here are some items still on my list from almost 2 years ago: a tweed coat, a classic pair of sunglasses, a long grey wool coat, a pair of low-heeled leather boots that are waterproof but don’t look like it, an elegant waterproof backpack that lasts me through grad school, a high quality sleek umbrella, and a Mason Pearson boar bristle hairbrush (a major splurge!). I managed to cross off quite a few items since the time when I got my first job. It is a nice treat when you have a splurge item on your list and you finally have enough saved for the item to cross it off your list. Or when you treat yourself (or someone special in your life) to an item after you (or that other person) have achieved something substantial.

Idea #9: Write down your current skills and strengths

Really think about this and keep this list somewhere accessible so you can keep returning to this list throughout the year. Can any of these skills and strengths turn into part-time jobs, a fulfilling career, or internships? After writing down your current skills and strengths, write down what specific skills or types of knowledge you wish you acquire. Research where you can acquire them. Most likely many of these skills you can learn and hone in on in school (School is not just about accumulating content knowledge... school is also about developing transferable skills). Perhaps some of these skills you can learn from volunteering somewhere. Or from joining a club or activity. Or from shadowing. Or from taking on a job. Think about when you can acquire these skills. After school? During school? On weekends? Summer break? Spend some time thinking about your present so that you can prepare for your future. 

Idea #10: Figure out your natural rhythm

By “natural rhythm” I mean, get in tune with your body and learn when you are most alert and focused, how many hours of sleep you need to feel fully rested, and assess whether you are an early bird or a night owl. All of this is good to know now so you take this information into account when you select your roommate and register for your classes. Everyone is different. Focus on yourself and your own needs. Know when you perform and learn best. 

Idea #11: Start researching scholarships and other sources of financial aid

If your parents are taking care of this for you, at least get involved in the process so you learn about it. FAFSA becomes relevant if grad school is on your radar after college. At that time, you’ll likely have to do this on your own. Get the basics now! Even if you are a freshman/freshwoman in high school, it does not hurt to ask upperclassmen and -women about scholarship opportunities in your local community. Find out what the criteria are, what materials you need to submit, and when the deadlines are. The earlier your preparations, the less stressful they will be.

Idea #12: Learn some organizational skills

You don’t need to aspire to be a professional organizer (they do exist and they actually make good money!) but you should at least have the skills or learn them to keep your life in order. If organization isn’t your strength (no judgment here), find tools to help you out. For example there are great digital note-taking tools out there, planners, calendars, and all kinds of productivity apps and web extensions. Don’t rely too heavily on your parents to organize your school life and extracurriculars. Otherwise you’ll find that it gets harder to be an independent adult. The transition is already tough enough as it is; don’t make it more challenging if you can do something about it now. 

Idea #13: Read!

Read. Read more. Read more widely. Read for fun. Read for information. Read the news (emphasis on plural). Read critically. Read different sources. The bottom line is to read. It is so essential and never gets old. Unfortunately, as a teenager, I did not read much beyond what was required of me for school, despite my parents reminding me to do so. My excuse? “I’m a slow reader!” Even if you are a slow reader, you should still read something. You will do plenty of reading in college, for your work, and beyond. Reading will help you on the SAT and other standardized tests (sorry, they don’t go away) and it will help you become a better writer. Reading also helps you become more informed. I love starting my day off with reading theSkimm, which gets sent to my email every morning. theSkimm provides an overview of the main news stories (focused on the U.S.) and is written in a humorous manner. Try it out and let me know what you think! :)

Idea #14: Know your health

Obtain a copy of your health record (including vaccination history and all prescriptions you have) or at least know where you can access this information. You will avoid a massive headache from having to deal with this stuff when you neither have the time nor the energy for it. Also know the name of your primary care physician, and have his/her contact information handy (I keep this information on my phone). At some point, you will have to fill out forms and it helps to have this information ready, so that you don’t have to search for this every single time.

Idea #15: Create a portfolio

Consider creating a portfolio of your academic and non-academic work. Are you a good writer? If so, keep digital copies (pdf) of essays, poems, editorials, etc. Make your academic work do work for you outside of the classroom. Are you an artist? Take high quality photos of your original work and display them on Instagram or on a website. You can create nice websites for free or pay for more professional sites. Book Smart Street Smart, for instance, is my portfolio. It took some time to get started, but I have a feeling this blog will be with me for many years to come. Are you a photographer on the side? If so, make your work visible. Social media is great for this. Did you create something original for a class project—something you are really proud of? Save it! You may use it as a sample of your academic work when you apply for a job or an internship. It doesn’t hurt to come prepared. Did you have news articles written about you? If so, save them to your computer (don’t just bookmark the page). You never know when and how they may serve a purpose!

Idea #16: Maintain relationships with friends and teachers

I am writing this not only because I am a teacher. Relationships with friends, peers, and colleagues become more challenging to maintain the older you get (at least from my own experience). You get busy and maintaining relationships takes time and effort. But relationships are also so important for enriching your life and for overall happiness. Do not take your current friendships for granted—cultivate them. Do you have a favorite teacher, or an adult that you admire and respect? Keep in touch with that person and let him/her know about your life. You never know when your paths will cross and how that person can be an essential reference for you. You don’t have to be super social, extroverted, or a savvy networker to maintain relationships (I am none of these!). Maintain relationships in a way that is true to you, that feels authentic.

Idea #17: Teach yourself or someone else something

You don’t have to be a licensed educator to teach someone else or yourself something new. If you are a junior or senior in high school, I highly recommend volunteering your time to tutor someone else. You may be surprised how much you learn in the process of helping someone else learn! In college, you are bound to form study groups (they are really beneficial!), so it does not hurt to start developing interpersonal skills from working with different types of learners. Besides tutoring, consider setting a goal to teach yourself something new. It can be anything! When I was 12 or 13, I was obsessed with a website called Neopets (does anyone know what this is?). I had my own guild with hundreds of members, so I felt it necessary to learn HTML and the basics of CSS to create my own website. As a result, I bought books about HTML and CSS and taught myself the basics of this “programming language” during a summer off. I know this sounds incredibly dated (I mean, nowadays, there are free websites that create fancy websites for you; you don’t need to know anything about coding), but I just wanted to share a personal story :)

Idea #18: Practice prioritizing tasks

Prioritizing is not something I am very good at, but I am deliberately working on this. According to Merriam-Webster, to prioritize means 1) to list or rate (projects, goals, etc.) in order of priority, 2) to organize (things) so that the most important thing is done or dealt with first, and/or 3) to make (something) the most important thing in a group. This is harder to do than it seems, but prioritizing is SUCH an important adult skill to learn, and the more practice you have with it, the better. The reality is, you will have more and more responsibilities as you get older, and it will be up to you to decide which responsibilities need to be attended to before others. You will need to make choices, big and small, on a daily basis, and this decision-making process often involves prioritizing. Prioritizing also means being strategic about which assignment you complete first. I personally have a tendency to start the easier tasks/assignments first, because this makes me feel good (it’s more rewarding, right?) but saving the harder tasks for later also means more stress later on. Prioritizing is also related to time-management and organization, both of which are essential skills needed for developing independence. One way to start prioritizing is to make lists of things you need to do on a given day and to practice ranking them in order of urgency/importance. There are apps for this if you prefer to do this on your phone, but there is also nothing wrong with keeping paper lists. As life experience has taught me, sometimes prioritizing means letting some things go by saying “no” (and that is another skill to learn); sometimes it means setting time aside for yourself so you can recharge; sometimes it means willing to risk a poor grade on an assignment to help a friend or family member in need. There is no single best way to learn to prioritize—sometimes, the best way to learn is to just do it and learn from the experience.

Idea #19: Research the cost of attending college

My younger sister did this and boy was it eye-opening for her! I highly recommend doing the same. Include the cost of tuition, room and board if you are living on campus, health fees, approximate cost of textbooks, etc. Once you have a sum, divide that total number by 270 (which represents the max number of days you are in school in a year, not counting summers). The number you end up with is how much your education costs per day whether you are working or not, studying or partying, sleeping or reading. You make a lot of choices when you go to college—try to make good ones that you benefit from. Or at least do this so you have a sense of how much your education is worth. If your parents are paying for you, be grateful. They could be investing the same amount in their own retirement but they chose you. Don’t take their choice for granted. 

And that’s it!

Thanks so much for following along by reading.

Warm regards,

Catherine

PS. These photographs were taken last week during a family trip to Cedar Key, Florida. They are all unfiltered :)

After a rather long hiatus in blogging, I am back to sharing original content. The past 4-5 weeks were characterized by chaos and irregular sleep from me trying to juggle multiple final papers and project, plan my academic coursework for the next semester, carry out my part-time job responsibilities, and continue to plan for my upcoming wedding. Long story short, I needed to concentrate on my immediate life and put blogging on the back burner for a few weeks.

I’m planning a couple of “street smarts” entries for January, but today, I’m sharing with you a curricular final project called “Queering Science Education” that I carried out for one of my courses. I had a lot of fun attempting to queer the very traditional science education curriculum that exists in most schools. Please note that the aim of this project is not to prescribe a formula for a new curriculum but to challenge educators to dare to reimagine a science curriculum that dares to cross boundaries, that transcends binaries, that embraces complex identities and ways of knowing, and that brings back some “magic” or joy to doing science that is more inclusive of different learners, not just those who are “good at science” or who “excel at math.” In essence, this project was my attempt at disrupting all that is “normal” and “standard” about learning, teaching, and doing science in classrooms.

What I share in this curricular project is a collection of inspirational resources for educators and students alike. The resources are not my own, but the curation is my original work.

Enjoy!

Today, I’m sharing with you a second paper for one of my doctoral seminars. About a week ago, I shared one of my first academic pieces. I was not particularly attached to that paper, and I found myself playing it “safe.” The professor picked up on this and marked me down for “emerging voice”; I was not pleased, but it was a fair assessment. For this second paper, I went to the other extreme and devoted to writing about something that I cared about, even though I felt very much alone in the process.

Let me elaborate: unlike my undergraduate and high school experience, my graduate experience so far has been comparably isolating. Yes, I am part of a cohort, and I do meet (sometimes virtually) with my study group once a week for a few hours; however, there is not much socializing and sharing beyond that. Classes are discussion-based, but they are structured, and every week I feel pressured to say something insightful and to do so in an articulate manner. I have not been very successful; in fact, I have sort of given up on sharing verbally in class. In that way, I suppose I’m not a “good grad student” and somehow, I am okay with it. Almost certainly, my “participation” grade will reflect my lack of verbal contribution in whole-class discussions; I am bitter about this to some extent, but I have also accepted this expectation, which is part of the established norms of what it means to “participate” in an academic setting in the U.S. To say that I am disengaged would not only be inaccurate but also insulting, because contrary to mainstream belief, listening critically and attentively is just as important and demanding as speaking up. I engage by contributing during small-group discussion, by hearing what others have to say, by thinking A LOT and processing information when I am silent, and writing down my reflections. However, much of this is happening in my head, within me, by myself. As such, it can be a lonely endeavor.

In writing this second paper, I was in my head too much for my own good. Unfortunately, when I did reach out to seek feedback on my thinking, I often hit a dead-end and left feeling a bit defeated, and with two main takeaways: 1) asking for help from professors is encouraged in writing, but not really; as a grad student, you need to be self-sufficient; you are, afterall, trying to become your own person with your own original ideas, 2) feedback is not the same at this level of education; don’t expect to get much feedback, at least not during the process of learning—only at the end, in the form of a few words and a grade. I know this sounds very grim and discouraging, and I know this is not the case for every class/every program, but this has been my experience. But instead of feeling bitter about this, I decided to reach out to peers, and that has been a more positive experience. Still, with this second paper, my ideas were met with much opposition; most people just did not buy into my argument. I do not blame them. I was in such a chaotic state (in my head), that I could not think very clearly, let alone try to articulate everything in person in words. I felt so defeated, I ended up withdrawing internally, and I struggled through this paper, unconvinced of my own ideas initially.

I wrote a total of three versions of this paper, before submitting a final 3-page version that I was almost proud of (because I went with my gut/heart) but also uncertain about (in terms of how it would be received by my reader, who is also my evaluator). In the end, I told myself that the grade would not matter, because I persevered and I learned. I struggled, I cried a lot, I doubted myself more than once, I made myself vulnerable and shared my frustrations with people I trusted, I did a reality check, I started over, I did not look back, I moved forward, I wrote something, I revised, I wrote some more, I revised some more, and I finished the paper.

So I’m devoting this blog entry to the process of writing an academic paper—a process that involves risk-taking, which is not comfortable, but is valuable. It is a process that pushes you and actually allows you to achieve a state of clarity at the end. I look back on this paper now and I smile. I have many, many other papers to write, which feels daunting at the present moment; however, I know I can do it, because I have done it before, and it will only get easier and more comfortable because I already went through the initial stage of discomfort.

So without further ado, I first share with you the final product of this process. Enjoy!

Interrogating a Master-Narrative in “An Education”:
Problematizing Binaries, Female Subject Identities, and Covert Oppression

The film “An Education” (Posey & Scherfig, 2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school and from life experiences. While both shape Jenny’s identity, the film posits that the kind received through schooling is more legitimate than the free-spirited kind from life embraced by David. The film also lays out two contrasting paths for Jenny’s social advancement—either strive for a prestigious education or marry a wealthy suitor (read: man). Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are binaries, a normalized view of “educated,” and a perpetuation of the limited possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist theories and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to interrogate the production of binaries and subject identities, and present a more nuanced view of the film’s master-narrative.   

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story is a rather problematic one when viewed through a poststructuralist feminist lens. An alternative read poses two main problems. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and independent/dependent—that perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Two, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice. The lack of diversity in femininities and absence of productive transgression of societal norms are concerning. There are essentially just two female subject identities. Helen—beautiful, wealthy, street-smart—who pursued passion instead of books, embodies the “uneducated” woman. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly means, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is powerless. By contrast, Jenny’s educators are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters [participating in a] pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17). These unmarried women are stereotyped as rational, sexless spinsters; they are masculinized but not in an empowering “third term” sense. Juxtaposed with these women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman. For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with his lifestyle. This would have made for a promising counter-narrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love that ends with her pursuing private coaching from a teacher who had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life. Jenny’s narrative is, thus, reduced to a binary-laden one that is repackaged as female liberation; her emancipation, I argue, is actually her succumbing to the path for social mobility that remained in view. The coaching provided by her teacher can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing. Jenny exchanges a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). There is no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romantic and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-women narrative. 

Using a DS framework to unpack the assumptions further problematizes binaries and reveals that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Ferri and Connor (2010) would argue that his actions are to “maintain a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111) in the presence of Jenny, who poses a “threat of ableism” (p. 110) with her private schooling and book-smarts. David is cast as Jenny’s foil; her “right” path through schooling to gain access to “codes of power” (Delpit, as cited in Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112) is the virtuous way, whereas his “degree from the university of life” is criminal and amoral. Though both are smart, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and exam scores) is culturally valued more than others (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011). David achieves (through alternative means) a privileged life associated with the educated, but next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, he is still the “disabled” one, as he was not educated in the normative sense. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011) and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Jenny’s stable, middle-class family structure gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David, whose childhood social structures probably shaped his distinctive outlook on schooling and social mobility (Brantlinger, 2006; McDermott & Raley, 2008). He passes for an educated man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital but loses this “abled” status and respect when his “disability” is made visible. This supports how disability is both socially constructed and “a function of social class” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115).

It is not uncommon for films to project binary views of education; they are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic, too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. Watching the film the first time, I thought it was educational and even empowering. A second viewing through these lenses, however, exposed its superficial pro-women sentiments and frequent oppressive narratives. I am now more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment” train as soon as there is a strong female lead, as feminist claims are often overused, frequently misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. Moreover, I found myself considering intersectionality asking, “How would Jenny’s access to educational opportunities be different had she been from a working-class family of color? Would her intelligence alone be sufficient to get her to Oxford?” Such a read would also problematize notions of meritocracy in the film.

References

Brantlinger, E. (2006). Winners need losers: The basis for school competition and hierarchies. In Who Benefits from Special Education? Remediating (Fixing) Other People’s Children (pp. 197–231). Mahwah, N.J: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Ferri, B. A., & Connor, D. J. (2010). ‘I was the special ed. girl’: urban working‐class young women of colour. Gender and Education, 22(1), 105–121.

Hendry, P. M. (2011). Engendering curriculum history. In Engendering curriculum history (pp. 11–30). New York: Routledge.

Leonardo, Z., & Broderick, A. A. (2011). Smartness as Property: A Critical Exploration of Intersections Between Whiteness and Disability Studies, 113(10), 2206–2232.

McDermott, R., & Raley, J. D. (2008). “The tell-tale body.” The constitution of disabilities in schools. In W. Ayers, T. M. Quinn, & D. Stovall (Eds.), Handbook of Social Justice in Education (pp. 431–445). New York, UNITED STATES: Taylor & Francis Group.

Posey, A. (Producer), & Scherfig, L. (Director). (2009). An Education [DVD]. United Kingdom: Sony Pictures Classics.

Quick debrief regarding areas of improvement and suggestions:

• Here was the written feedback I received: “I really appreciated the focus of your argument, the depth of your analysis and the originality of your thought.“

• Something I have gotten used to is succinct feedback. With regards to the paper itself, there were no margin notes/feedback (which I had received on my first paper). Praise is limited and not something to be expected, although something I very much appreciate when I do receive it. Usually, feedback is meant to be constructive, to help you improve as a writer and critical thinker; it is not meant to be feel-good. Or at least, that has been my experience so far, and I am trying not to take it personally. “It is to be expected at this level of education” is what I have been told.

Now that you’ve read the final product, below I’m revealing to you the drafts prior to this finalized version of the paper. The very first draft, which was completed by midnight, followed by the second draft written the next morning and throughout the day (I spent many, many hours on this second draft), followed by the final draft, written up a few days later, incorporating feedback from a peer reviewer. These have not been edited in any way, because I want to give you the inside view of my process of writing, which is an emotion-filled process that involves a lot of rewriting, rethinking, restructuring of arguments, stream-of-consciousness-type thinking, jotting down of random thoughts, and weaving together fragments. Something that helps me personally is physically printing out drafts and taking pen to paper to revise. This involves plenty of cross-outs, arrowing, circling of blocks, and hand-writing alternative sentences—basically, I’m performing surgery on my paper. I find that I can think more clearly and see the big picture better when I lay out my paper on my desk as opposed to editing it on my laptop. When I have my annotated copy ready, I move to my laptop and type up the revisions. I leave the paper alone for a day, and I return the next day to my paper draft, print it out, and continue revising using pen and paper. I do this with all of my drafts, and I have, on average, three to four drafts per paper. When I reach the “final draft” phase, I then return to my laptop for the final tweaks.

This last phase involves trimming the paper down to meet the page limit. The most drastic cut I have made so far is from a nine page paper (first draft) down to a three page one (final draft). I promise you; it is possible! I will be sharing that paper in the coming weeks. It is also during this last phase when find clever ways of reducing the word count, such as by turning nouns into verbs and finding more succinct transition words/phrases. Every line matters, so I make sure that “window/orphan control” is unchecked, so that I maximize space on each page (so that a random line doesn’t move to the next page, thereby increasing my page limit)! If you have NO idea what I’m talking about, google this phrase and it may be a time-saver for you!

As you can see, the process is quite involved. My professor obviously had no idea of the journey I went on with this paper, but I do, and that is most important. The journey is for me; the final product is for the professor. Ultimately, you get some feedback, along with a grade. To say that the grade doesn’t matter to me would be dishonest; however, I have learned that this invisible journey, and the risk-taking along the way, is way more important, as it was for me and me alone.

Very First Paper Draft in Its Original “Raw State” (Sent to My Peer Reviewer)

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get her education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. From the viewer’s omnipresent perspective, both prepare her for adulthood in some way and shape her identity along the way. Embedded in this storyline, however, are many contrasting assumptions about schooling, success, and the notion of “educated” that pertain to a rigid way of thinking by the various characters. In this essay, aspects of queer theory/pedagogy and Michel Foucault’s ideas will be utilized to re-examine the main character’s initial assumptions about the value/promise of schooling and the legitimacy of a formal education.

The main figure is 16-year old Jenny, a pretty and precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London with her white middle-class parents. Both she and her parents see that the goal of obtaining an education is to fulfill a certain need. In other words, for them, an education is a means to an end—one that offers a better chance at achieving success and the life one wants. Related to that is their understanding that to be educated is to have an education obtained through formal schooling. As such, Jenny’s parents emphasize schoolwork over social interactions with boys in an effort to keep their daughter focused on her projected path to Oxford. Jenny is bored of school, finding the work repetitive, but she endures it, believing that her education will ultimately give her the life she wants. Thus, she cannot wait for “life to begin” after she makes it to Oxford and receives her prestigious education. She is well on her way when an older man’s life entangles with hers and another (more attractive) way of life is made possible with little academic effort.

Through a queer theory lens, Jenny’s life is characterized by binaries. For one, she finds herself straddling two forms of education—the official and the unofficial—the formal kind within the confined walls of her private school and the potentially threatening/risky kind from “the university of life” that is shunned by her headmistress and favorite teacher at school. Jenny is simultaneously caught along the unsettling margins of two extreme worlds—that of the dutiful, innocent, virginal schoolgirl doing Latin homework and studying for university exams and that of the self-assured, sophisticated, worldly woman who is well-versed in French, smoking cigarettes and attending classical music concerts with David, the much older man. The former is the one that society values and deems proper for a promising 16 year old lady on her way to Oxford; yet, the way Jenny sees it, it is a fully paved road that is regimented, predictable, asexual, and frankly, awfully boring. By contrast, the latter represents the glamorous, mysterious adult life she yearns for beyond schooling, one within reach through David yet so far away by the traditional path; this world is one that satisfies both her sexual appetite and her romance with the unknown.

Jenny’s experiences do not neatly conform to the heteronormativity espoused both by her school and by society. Within the confines of her private school, there is no space for sexual expression or exploration, only strictly intellectual pursuits. While she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting, enriching, and at times transgressive life he leads. In this way, her attraction to David is at odds with a conventional heterosexual relationship—the kind that is foundational to the society in which she is a part—and thus her experiences ruin the “neat arrangements” (Luhmann, p. 123) of society. Jenny’s sexual identity is not static and thus cannot be categorized because there is a disconnect between the role she plays (the girlfriend) and who she is (a curious and imaginative adolescent girl desperately seeking liberation and a platform to be taken seriously). Even though Jenny accepts David’s proposal of marriage, this act can be interpreted as her way of gaining permanent access to the life she fantasizes about without formal schooling. Thus, David is not the object of her desire but rather the vector by which she fulfills that desire, at least temporarily. Furthermore, while navigating her constantly in-flux identity, Jenny is fully cognizant of how negatively she is perceived by those conforming to normative social practices. Yet, she actively refuses the label of “ruined” by her “deviant” actions at a time when it was considered a shame and waste of talent for an intelligent young woman to choose to get married early in life instead of going to university. In this way, she is exercising her ignorance as “an opposition to knowing…a desire not to know” (Luhmann, 1998, p. 127).

Both David’s life trajectory and Jenny’s counternarrative blur the line between the official and the unofficial forms of education, and thus, complicate the assumption that to be “educated” is to have had formal schooling. Even with her traditional schooling consisting of readings of enduring classics, Jenny is no more immune to the betrayal of love and deception of a life of luxury. Likewise, despite his lack of formal schooling, David manages to entices Jenny’s strict, protective parents with his suave manner of speaking, polished demeanor, refined taste in music and wines, and supposed far-reaching connections. He lives the glamorous life of an “educated” man—one that Jenny’s parents desires for her, believing that David will be able to provide her with social and economic advantages without the hard work and monetary investment of an Oxford education.

That leads to another assumption in the movie—the notion that for young women, a traditional education received in the classroom (even though it may be hard work and boring at times) is a means to an end. A queer pedagogy perspective embraced by Luhmann provides more nuances to this otherwise static and naïve view. Re-examining Jenny’s story, it is her active negotiations of her identity through trial-and-error with David and her disillusioned experiences in the world outside of school that cured her hunger for the glamorous adult life she had envisioned. Without breaking away from “reading straight” (Sumara & Davis, p. 202) in school and from the rigid way to go about her education, Jenny would not have had the alternate life perspectives or the new forms of knowledge that became available to her from an “outside education.” After being refused re-admission to her school, she pursues private coaching, studies diligently on her own for her exams and ultimately makes it to Oxford. Jenny’s expanded worldview and new thoughts on education came from “refus[ing] certain identifications” and from the process of making herself “through and against others” (Luhmann, 1998, p. 130). By the end of the movie, Jenny sees that an education is a part of a journey of growth and expansion of one’s thinking, not just a destination.

Foucault thoughts (my second lens)

I’m not getting anywhere here! :( My mind is an absolute mess.

 Critiquing Jenny’s assumption that education is a means to an end—a way of obtaining power, status, wealth, prestige, or social success. Discuss that power is not something to be had or acquired but that is exists everywhere but may not be visible. Show that Jenny recognizes her own power when she escapes the highly disciplined and organized manner of learning in school. Through a Foucauldian lens, we see in this instance a case of power circulating; what used to be power in the form of prohibitive and controlling schooling (in Jenny’s eyes) is now power in the form of Jenny exercising agency and resistance in her newfound freedom (Foucault, 1979). Still, when she chooses a life with David over a life in school, this choice is shaped by another form of power/knowledge that is embodied by David’s network, wealth, and social skills that Jenny desires. Thus, as liberated and powerful as she may feel, she is not outside of the “web of power.”

 Critiquing assumption that “educated” means having had formal schooling, as opposed to learning from experiencing life. Consider: how is an educated person produced in society? In what ways do schools and universities make visible the educated person? From a Foucauldian perspective, there is no objective educated person. It is a socially constructed notion that is made more visible and hence more powerful through a set of knowledge associated with being educated….

Implications/Consequences

(I completely realize this is not fitting with my argument… what IS my argument? I feel I have 3 different storylines in this one essay and I’m not sure what story I really want to tell…nothing makes sense anymore. I should start from scratch.)

Jenny’s and her parents’ initial view of education is that it is a means to an end and does not have value on its own. The consequences of maintaining this view is that a person will never dig deeper into issues and ideas and only achieve surface understanding. Since this person sees education in a highly practical manner—including as a way of gaining power and status—this person will likely not go beyond the minimum asked to learn for the sake of knowledge. By contrast, the belief upheld by the school’s headmistress and Jenny’s teacher is that education is for the sake of life-long learning and broadening of horizons. The implications of adopting this more idealistic perspective is that a person may take up a less prominent, prestigious social position, have less material wealth, and might be taken less seriously by those who do not share this viewpoint of education.

These two contrasting viewpoints are encapsulated by other noteworthy movies. A famous exchange in Good Will Hunting comes to mind: “Are you going to plagiarize the whole thing for us or do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter?... You dropped 150 grand on an education you could have gotten for $1.50 in late charges at the public library.” “Yeah, well, I will have a degree and you’ll be serving my kids fries at a drive-through on our way to a ski trip.” “Maybe, but at least I won’t be unoriginal.”

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project these binary views of education and schooling, as it reflects the many binary divisions in our society. Re-examining the main character’s assumptions about education through queer theory has challenged me to elaborate on both narratives and to think about ways in they intersect to open up alternative ways of thinking about education….

My Second Draft Written the Next Day (Before Receiving Peer Feedback)

NOTE: I ended up using two different lenses (poststructural feminist lens and a dis/ability study framework) to make my argument. I actually had an argument in this second draft! In the original paper, I was trying to use Foucault’s ideas, along with a Queer Theory framework. Neither worked out for me.

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. While the film shows that both shape 16-year old Jenny’s identity and prepare her for womanhood in some way, it posits that an education received via formal schooling is ultimately more valuable and legitimate compared to the free-spirited kind from life. David, an older man who offers her a glamorous life with little academic effort, embodies the latter form of life education. Additionally, with a focus on Jenny’s story, the film lays out two contrasting paths for a young woman’s social advancement in the 1960s—either strive for a formal (and prestigious) education or find a wealthy suitor (read: man) and marry up. Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are narrowly-defined binaries, a socially constructed normalized view of “educated,” and a maintenance of the limited potential/possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist post-structuralism (?) and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to critique these assumptions about education, interrogate the production of subject identities, and expand on the filmmakers’ rigid way of thinking about both.

The filmmakers’ protagonist is Jenny, a pretty and precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London. She attends a private school financed by her white middle-class parents, who see (formal) education is a means to an end—one that offers social mobility for their daughter. This is not the view of education adopted by Jenny’s headmistress and female teacher; they view education as a form of empowerment for young women, a way to be liberated from men, and to have one’s own independent life. Consequently, they find it shameful for Jenny to choose to choose marriage over attending university. In this context, the film details the internal struggles of Jenny as she is caught along the unsettling margins of two different worlds—that of the dutiful, virginal schoolgirl doing Latin homework and studying for university exams and that of the sophisticated woman, attending classical music concerts with David, sipping champagne, and traveling to Paris. The former is what is expected of her and the latter is what she openly desires. In the end, after experiencing love’s betrayal and disillusionment of the “other” life, Jenny gets back on her feet and is shown “back on track” as  an educated woman claiming success through her own means, apart from David.

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story for an audience of young women is a rather problematic one when viewed through feminist theoretical lenses. Three main problems arise from such an alternative read. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and the independent/dependent. Two, while there is no shortage of women in the film, the master-narrative perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Three, as a result of these, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice.

The film’s lack of diversity in representations of femininities and lack of room for productive transgression of societal norms are problematic. Two female subject identities are constructed in the film: the educated versus the uneducated. The “uneducated” woman is embodied by Jenny’s female foil Helen, who is beautiful, wealthy, street-smart, and who pursued passion instead of books. Her glaring anti-intellectualism is to the point of embarrassment at times in the film. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly endeavors, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is thus powerless. By contrast, the women educators at Jenny’s private school are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Through a feminist post-structuralist lens, both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters” participating in a “pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17); both may be educated, but as a consequence of not complying with “the subject of men’s social and sexual power” (p. 23), these unmarried women are stereotyped in the movie as manly, sexless spinsters, The women are masculinized but in an oppressive sense rather than an empowering “third term” sense. Next to these contrasting views of women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman..For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting and enriching life he leads. This complexity would have made for a promising and empowering counternarrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love. We learn that David is already married, and although he says he will get a divorce, Jenny shuts the door to that nuanced life with the fear of being seen as “ruined” and thus opts for a purely intellectual route devoid of sexuality. Jenny’s complex narrative is reduced to a simple binary-laden on that is repacked as female liberation. Through this lens, her emancipation by the end of the movie is actually her succumbing to the path that remained in view, with marriage out of the question. Yes, Jenny makes it to Oxford, but this was partly made possible through private coaching provided by her teacher (who, prior had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life). Thus, what looks like a strong woman helping another find her way back on her own two feet through “proper education” can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the life and body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing (Jenny was exploring her sexual identity). Though both the headmistress and teacher are female, their practice of excluding “ruined” schoolgirls falls in line with the oppression of women by those in dominant positions. They do so by valuing the rational over the emotional, and the woman’s mind over her body instead of dissolving the hierarchies of these binaries. Jenny ultimately gives up a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). The film provides no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romance and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-woman narrative.  

Using a DS framework to further unpack the assumptions about paths for social mobility and what constitutes an “educated” person further problematizes binaries and complicates the master narrative. There were several occasions in the film when David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Jenny, with her private schooling and book-smarts, poses a “threat of ableism” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 110). Ferri and Connor would argue that David’s actions are his way of “maintain[ing] a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111). Like Helen, David is cast as Jenny’s foil; Jenny’s “right” or “regular” path of social mobility through formal education is seen as the virtuous way, whereas David’s alternative, non-traditional path is portrayed as criminal and amoral in the film. Jenny’s scholarly path is lauded, but David’s “degree” from what he calls the “university of life” is treated critically in the film. This is not surprising as “college is seen as the stepping stone to a better life” (p. 112)—to gain access to what Delpit (1996) calls “codes of power” (as cited by Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112). Though both Jenny and David are intelligent and clever in their own ways, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and examination marks) is valued more than others (social skills, emotional intelligence). David’s “uneducated” status is socially constructed and his differential perception and treatment by the parents plays out only when his perceived “disability” is made visible to them (through Jenny revealing the truth about his past). What the DS lens reveals is that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (p. 115). Although David has achieved a privileged life of wealth, next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, David is the “disabled” one, as he is not intelligent/educated in the normative sense of both words. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (p. 115). Jenny’s private schooling, made possible by her parents’ middle-class status gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David. Her stable and supportive family life afforded her a nurturing environment that likely shaped her as a can-do, gifted young woman. By contrast, much of David’s early life story remains elusive in the film. This has the consequence of making it easy for the viewer to blame him for his non-normative outlook on and different approach to life instead of analyzing the environment and questioning the social structures around his life (McDermott & Raley, 2008, p. 435). Whatever his story, we know that he was forced to seek alternative routes (outside of schooling) to a successful life that required him to be clever in other ways (by cultivating other forms of intelligence). David passes for an educated, abled man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital. This goes to show how “disability is in part a function of social class” (p. 115).

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project binary views of education and schooling, as it reflects the many apparent binary divisions in our society. Binaries are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. I now realize how even a highly rated (95% on Rotten Tomatoes!) movie with a fantastic cast can be a place for some serious scholarly critique. Naïve of me, I used to largely think of movies as feel-good, harmless entertainment with an occasion good lesson built in here and there. Watching this movie the first time, it was an “educational” movie in the shallow sense of the word, even an “empowering” one for girls according to my fiancé. As I write this paper, however, I’m making room for alternative reads that expose the movie’s at most superficial pro-women sentiments and a potential non-inclusive schooling narrative.  I did not realize how many alternative reads there can be of a seemingly straightforward movie. As a consequence of these interrogations, I am now more mindful of what is not stated explicitly in media meant to “entertain,” what side stories would complicated a binary construction, and how the absence of narratives can be as revealing as the presence of some. Furthermore, I am more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment!” train as soon as there is a strong female character. Feminist claims are frequently overused, often misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. If I were permitted a third or even fourth lens, I would be adopting a critical race theory lens and asking, “Where are the students of color in the movie? Why are their narratives excluded?” From a neo-Marxist perspective, I would also ask, “How would Jenny’s fairytale ending be different had she been from a working class family? Would her intelligence have been sufficient to get her to Oxford? Would her access to educational opportunities be limited because of her social standing?” Among other effects, these viewpoints would problematize the ideology of meritocracy upheld in the movie.

My Third/Final Draft Written a Few Days Later (Incorporating Peer Feedback)

NOTE: I was happy with this final draft; however, it was a page too long. Trimming off more than a dozen lines from this final draft was very challenging; I ended up having to pick and choose supporting evidence, and reworking parts of my argument. At least a few hours was spent doing just this, which was frustrating if you are sleep-deprived. Having said that, I think this process was valuable for me, as it forced me to think about my MAIN argument and to find the KEY supporting details, while removing redundant thoughts and sentences that are nice but are not compelling for my argument.

The film “An Education” (2009) has at its core the message that a young woman can get an education from school as well as from experiencing life outside of the classroom walls. While the film shows that both shape 16-year old Jenny’s identity and prepare her for womanhood in some way, it posits that an education received via formal schooling is ultimately more valuable and legitimate compared to the free-spirited kind from life embodied by David, an older wealthy man. Additionally, the film lays out two contrasting paths for a young woman’s social advancement in the 1960s—either strive for a formal (and prestigious) education or find a wealthy suitor (read: man) and marry up. Thus, embedded in the master-narrative are narrowly-defined binaries, a socially constructed normalized view of “educated,” and a perpetuation of the limited potential/possibilities for women. In this essay, aspects of feminist theories and dis(ability) studies (DS) will be utilized to critique these assumptions about education, interrogate the production of subject identities, and expand on the filmmakers’ rigid way of thinking about both.

The filmmakers’ protagonist is Jenny, a precocious teenager living what she perceives to be a mundane life in suburban London. She attends a private school financed by her white middle-class parents, who see (formal) education as a means to an end—one that offers social mobility for their daughter. This is not the view of education adopted by Jenny’s headmistress and female teacher; they view education as a form of empowerment for young women, a way to be liberated from men, and to have one’s own independent life. Consequently, they find it shameful for Jenny to choose marriage over attending university. In this context, the film details the internal struggles of Jenny as she is caught along the unsettling margins of two different worlds—that of the schoolgirl (what is expected of her) and that of the sophisticated woman (what she openly desires).

What appears on the surface to be an empowering story for an audience of young women is a rather problematic one when viewed through feminist theoretical lenses. Three main problems arise from such an alternative read. One, there is a binary view of women—the educated/uneducated, powerful/powerless, and the independent/dependent. Two, while there is no shortage of women in the film, the master-narrative perpetuates the myth of women as an “essentialized and fixed category” (Hendry, 2011, p. 14) . Three, as a result of the above, the film gives the illusion of female empowerment and choice.

The film’s lack of diversity in representations of femininities and lack of room for productive transgression of societal norms are problematic. Two female subject identities are constructed in the film: the educated versus the uneducated. The “uneducated” woman is embodied by Jenny’s female foil Helen, who is beautiful, wealthy, street-smart, and who pursued passion instead of books. Because her social position was not obtained through scholarly endeavors, she is portrayed as an accessory to the men in her life and is thus powerless. By contrast, the women educators at Jenny’s private school are book-smart, have degrees from high caliber institutions, and exemplify the “educated.” Through a feminist post-structuralist lens, both represent what Hendry (2011) calls “dutiful daughters” participating in a “pedagogy for patriarchy” (p. 17); these unmarried women are stereotyped in the movie as manly, rational, sexless spinsters. The women are masculinized but not in an empowering “third term” sense. Next to these contrasting views of women, Jenny appears to break the mold as a more nuanced woman. For one, her desires and sexual identity do not neatly fit into the norms and hierarchies espoused by society; while she engages in sexual activity with David, her true romance is with the exciting and enriching life he leads. This complexity would have made for a promising and empowering counternarrative with Jenny exercising masculine femininity and repositioning herself as the dominant subject and David as the vector by which she fulfills her life desires; however, the film does not further pursue this “rebellion narrative” (Hendry, 2011, p. 24). Rather, her sexual exploration results in a sort of punishment via betrayal of love (David is already married). Consequently, Jenny shuts the door to that nuanced life with the fear of being seen as “ruined” and thus opts for an intellectual route to social advancement. Jenny’s complex narrative is reduced to a simple binary-laden one that is repackaged as female liberation; her emancipation by the end of the movie is actually her succumbing to the path that remained in view, with marriage to David out of the question. Yes, Jenny makes it to Oxford, but this was partly made possible through private coaching provided by her teacher (who, prior had disparaged her sexual, flippant way of life). Thus, what looks like a strong woman helping another find her way back through “proper education” can also be read as the institution of schooling regulating the life and body of a schoolgirl caught transgressing. Jenny exchanges a life of passion and sexual expression for a life of books in the “domain of men” (Hendry, 2011, p. 16). The film provides no third narrative, such as a co-existence of romance and intellectual pursuits. In all of these ways, the film portrays a rather disempowering view of women being stuck, which is uncharacteristic of a true pro-women narrative.  

Using a DS framework to further unpack the also problematizes binaries and complicates the master-narrative. David deliberately hides his lack of formal schooling in order to maintain his social standing and respectability in Jenny’s parents’ eyes. Jenny, with her private schooling and book-smarts, poses a “threat of ableism” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 110). Ferri and Connor (2010) would argue that David’s actions are his way of “maintain[ing] a certain degree of control…challenging hegemonic notions of ability, intelligence, and success” (p. 111). Like Helen, David is cast as Jenny’s foil; Jenny’s “right” or “regular” path of social mobility through formal education is seen as the virtuous way, whereas David’s alternative “degree from the university of life” (timestamp) is portrayed as criminal and amoral in the film. This is not surprising as college is frequently regarded as a means to gain access to “codes of power” (Delpit, as cited by Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 112). Though both Jenny and David are smart in their own ways, one form of intelligence (as measured by book learning and examination marks) is culturally valued more than others (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011, p. 2226). David’s “uneducated” status is socially constructed and his differential perception and treatment by others play out only when his “disability” is made visible (through Jenny revealing the truth about his lack of schooling. What the DS lens reveals is that “disability is not a singular or universal experience” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Although David has achieved a privileged life of wealth, next to Jenny’s “abled” existence, David is the “disabled” one, as he is not smart/educated in the normative sense of both words. Thus, being “educated” has little to do with innate ability and potential (Leonardo & Broderick, 2011) and more to do with having “access to resources and privileges” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115). Jenny’s private schooling and stable family structure gave her certain early-life advantages likely not provided to David, whose childhood environment and social structures likely shaped his different outlook on schooling and social mobility (McDermott & Raley, 2008, p. 435). David passes for an educated, abled man primarily because of his ostentatious display of social and cultural capital but loses this status when he is “exposed” as an imposter. This goes to show how “disability is in part a function of social class” (Ferri & Connor, 2010, p. 115).

It is not uncommon for popular culture to project binary views of education and schooling. Binaries are easy to grasp, but this makes them problematic too, for they erase a great deal of diversity and complexity. I now realize how even a highly rated (95% on Rotten Tomatoes!) movie with a fantastic cast can be a place for some serious scholarly interrogation. Watching it the first time, it was an “educational” movie in the shallow sense of the word, even an “empowering” one for girls according to my fiancé. As I write this paper, however, I am making room for alternative reads that expose the movie’s superficial pro-women sentiments and frequent exclusive, oppressive narrative. Furthermore, I am more wary of jumping on the “female empowerment” train as soon as there is a strong female character. Feminist claims are often overused, frequently misused, and sometimes even abused in popular culture. If I were permitted an additional lens, I would be adopting a critical race/whiteness studies lens and asking, “Where are the students of color in the movie? Why are their narratives excluded?” From a neo-Marxist perspective, I would also ask, “How would Jenny’s fairytale ending be different had she been from a working class family? Would her intelligence have been sufficient to get her to Oxford? Would her access to educational opportunities be limited because of her social standing?” Among other effects, these viewpoints would problematize the ideology of meritocracy upheld in the movie.

Without further ado, I present to you my very first doctoral seminar paper. Please note that no revisions have been made to this piece since its submission. This particular work was well received by my professor but it is by no means without fault (perhaps you can spot areas of improvement— I will very briefly “debrief” at the end by sharing some of the points of critique). I did not get a perfect grade, and no longer do I aspire to “please” my professors by writing what I think they want to read. Part of my journey as an emerging scholar is to develop my own voice and to remain authentic throughout my time as a student. For this first paper, I held back a little bit as I was feeling the waters and feeling a little uncertain still. I relied heavily on textual references as you will soon see. Also, there was a strict page limit on this paper (and this is true for all papers so far), so this version represents the condensed version (after spending perhaps more time cutting down my paper, from 6 pages down to 3 pages than actually writing up the paper— no joke! The revision phase is intense).

Examining Meritocracy through Various Lenses:
Deconstructing and Denaturalizing the Dominant Discourse

Meritocracy is both an idea and an ideology. The idea is one of equal opportunity, meaning that individuals advance in their education and career to achieve success, status, and power on the basis of their ability, skills, and effort. The ideology is the bedrock of American society; that is, the belief that such a fair system exists is engrained in the minds of Americans and is built into structures of schooling. Through the mainstream narrative, there are bound to be “winners” and “losers” due to inherent differences in merit within the population; failure to succeed is produced as individual choice, personal incompetence, or lack of will rather than attributed to disparity in material environment and/or circumstantial disadvantage. Accordingly, everyone has the opportunity to be represented in higher education and in the political landscape.

Historically, meritocratic ideals have served the interests of dominant groups in society. In this essay, both class-based and race-based perspectives will be utilized to re-examine meritocracy. Bowles and Gintis (1977), using economic data, disrupt the ideals of meritocracy in capitalist America by unveiling the hidden agenda of schooling and progressive educational reforms. They argue that individuals—regardless of their ability and years of schooling—are ultimately tied to their social class; social mobility through effort and increased “production” is, thus, an illusion created through a common sense culture by the “bourgeoisie,” who benefit from the obscured exploitation of the “proletariat” (Bowles & Gintis, 1977). With “schools [used] as an instrument of social control” (Kliebard, 2004, p. 80), students are tracked along class lines (but disguised as “needs”) and socialized into adult roles of varying status; thus, schools are among the oppressive capitalist superstructures that reproduce class inequality (Anyon, 1980; Tyack, 1974). Today, dimensions of social efficiency (namely, sorting) remain; many schools serving working-class families are still run like factories, which produces conformity and docility in students, represses agency, and perpetuates capitalist dominance (Au, 2011).

Critical Race Theory (CRT), AsianCrit, and LatCrit scholars underscore race in their explanation of the myth of meritocracy. These scholars converge in their belief that racism is systemic, but diverge in their theories of how race interacts with meritocracy. CRT scholars argue that, while in a post-slavery and post-Jim Crow laws era, African Americans have continued to be excluded and their knowledge is still marginalized in U.S. schools and society (Grant, Brown, & Brown, 2016; Woodson, 2005). Using the lens of “whiteness as property” (p. 52), Ladson-Billings and Tate (1995) illuminate the illusion of colorblindness. For example, they describe the unequal allocation of “intellectual property” (p. 54), with higher tax-paying communities entitled to “higher property” (p. 54) schools that offer superior curricula denied to students of color in poorer communities. With whiteness also comes the “absolute right to exclude” (Ladson-Billings & Tate, 1995, p. 60) with modern forms of purposeful segregation of Black students through tracking built into schooling. This “white privilege” (Leonardo, 2004, p. 138) has resulted in today’s “achievement gap” in schools, disparities in special education programming (Sleeter, 2010), and differences in disciplinary protocols (Ferguson, 2010) all along racial lines. Similarly, Park and Liu (2014) unveil the deception of the colorblind anti-affirmative action movement, which uses Asian Americans as “racial mascots” (p. 45); through an interest convergence lens, they argue that negative action hurts Asian Americans because selective universities unofficially cap their enrollment while concurrently admitting Whites under a lower set of standards. Thus, the dominant-held narrative that affirmative action should be eliminated in the name of racial equity is masking the underlying framework that is perpetuating racial inequality and hegemonic hierarchies in higher education. Likewise, Solorzano and Yosso (2001) illuminate the whiteness of merit and expose the slanted playing field by arguing that the structures, processes, and discourses of graduate education and the professoriate privilege Whites and trivialize those in the “borderlands.” Progressing through the hierarchy of universities is more oppressive for Chicano/a students and professors, as they must acquire certain white “cultural capital” (Solorzano & Yosso, 2001, p. 464) such as by publishing in prestigious non-ethnic journals. Thus, the presence of White colleagues in academia is both “merited” and “natural,” but that of colleagues of color is deemed “foreign” (p. 486).

Re-examining meritocracy through these theoretical frameworks has prompted me to take less for granted with regard to U.S schooling. I now question whether meritocracy is the best system for all people. How would equality look in a different system? Is it equality as in “sameness” in the way that Eliot conceptualized democratic schooling, or is it equality as in “difference” with the underlying beliefs of developmentalists (Kliebard, 2004)? I am wary of associating “equal” with “same schooling,” as I question who ultimately gets to decide what students are exposed to and how they should learn. I also worry about capitalizing on students’ differences, given our history of discrimination and segregation legitimated with “objective science” and masked with empowering language like NGSS Lead State’s “making diversity visible” (as cited in Kirchgasler, 2017, p. 98). I, too, question the notion of diversity. The recent lawsuit against Harvard for racial discrimination of Asian-American applicants underscores how diversity means something different to different racial minorities depending on their interests. Whereas many admitted students of color justify affirmative action as “defend[ing] diversity” (Harris, 2018, para. 2), many Asian Americans denied admission counter with “discrimination in the name of diversity is wrong” (Harris, 2018, para. 10). The practice of affirmative action also warrants questioning, as it fails to uplift other marginalized groups, including LGBTQ individuals. As for my own practice, I now ask myself: when I am accommodating and differentiating instruction for students, am I responding to their differences or producing them?

References

Anyon, J. (1980). Social Class and the Hidden Curriculum of Work. Journal of Education, 162(1), 67–92.

Au, W. (2011). Teaching under the new Taylorism: high‐stakes testing and the standardization of the 21 st century curriculum. Journal of Curriculum Studies, 43(1), 25–45.

Bowles, S., & Gintis, H. (1977). Schooling in capitalist America : educational reform and the contradictions of economic life. New York: Basic Books.

Ferguson, A. A. (2010). Bad Boys: Public Schools in the Making of Black Masculinity. Ann Arbor, UNITED STATES: University of Michigan Press.

Grant, C. A., Brown, K. D., & Brown, A. L. (2016). Black Intellectual Thought in Education : The Missing Traditions of Anna Julia Cooper, Carter G. Woodson, and Alain LeRoy Locke. New York: Routledge.

Harris, A. (2018, October 15). Harvard’s Affirmative Action Trial Gets Underway. The Atlantic. Retrieved from https://www.theatlantic.com/education/archive/2018/10/harvards-affirmative-action-trial-gets-underway/572989/

Kirchgasler, K. L. (2017). Scientific Americans. Historicizing the Making of Difference in Early 20th-Century U.S. Science Education. In T. A. Popkewitz, J. Diaz, & C. Kirchgasler (Eds.), A Political Sociology of Educational Knowledge: Studies of Exclusions and Difference (pp. 87–102). Taylor & Francis.

Kliebard, H. M. (2004). The struggle for the American curriculum, 1893-1958. New York: RoutledgeFalmer.

Ladson-Billings, G., & Tate, W. F. (1995). Toward a Critical Race Theory of Education. Teachers College Record; New York, N.Y., 97(1), 47–68.

Leonardo, Z. (2004). The Color of Supremacy: Beyond the discourse of ‘white privilege.’ Educational Philosophy & Theory, 36(2), 137–152.

Park, J. J., & Liu, A. (2014). Interest Convergence or Divergence? A Critical Race Analysis of Asian Americans, Meritocracy, and Critical Mass in the Affirmative Action Debate. Journal of Higher Education, 85(1), 36–64.

Sleeter, C. (2010). Why Is There Learning Disabilities? A Critical Analysis of the Birth of the Field in Its Social Context. Disability Studies Quarterly, 30(2).

Solorzano, D. G., & Yosso, T. J. (2001). Critical race and LatCrit theory and method: Counter-storytelling. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 14(4), 471–495.

Tyack, D. B. (1974). Inside the system: the character of urban schools, 1890-1940. In The one best system: A history of American urban education (pp. 177–255). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Woodson, C. G. (2005). The Mis-Education of the Negro. New York, UNITED STATES: Dover Publications.

Quick debrief regarding areas of improvement and suggestions:

• By trying to include so many authors (for my references) in such a short space, the paper reads at times fragmented, trying to do too much. I absolutely agree with this point, but the truth is, I thought it was expected of us to reference all of the readings for a particular theoretical lens. Now I know.

• A suggestion is to aim a bit more for depth than amount of citations. Yes, this is what I will be doing for future papers!

• It is overall well-written, except for a few awkward transitions. There was one in the first paragraph, last sentence. I agree with this as well.

•  There was a suggestion to watch the first episode of Hasan Minhaj’s new show on Netflix— I think this is referring to the “affirmative action” episode of the show “Patriot Act.” I haven’t watched it yet, but it is on my list! Here’s a link to the episode on YouTube.