In class with my students yesterday, they were coming up with topics for argument that they will research in groups and debate orally in class as well as write a paper. Listing topics on the board, to no surprise: "Gay marriage is degrading to our country." closely followed by another group's contribution: "Gay marriage should be legal." Clearly, we would have two sides in this argument...
I stopped including gay issues in my course content years ago. Not because I don't think it's important, but because I got tired of fighting. Ten years ago, the ignorance regarding gay issues was off the chart, even in larger, urban areas and supposedly "cool" places like Portland, Oregon (yes, gay ignorance on the west coast - hard to believe, init?). But more than any of that, which I felt I could whittle away at with basic education, I tired of the treatment students gave to one another on the issue.
To be gay is to be invisible, in many ways. And in some ways, this may be desirable to the person who is gay. But, making the object invisible makes it much easier to treat with disparity and disregard, disrespect and even downright hostility. Students do not know who among their peers is gay. None of them would dare own up to, let alone research and publicly argue, that mixed racial marriages are degrading to our country - and most especially if there were actually a student of color in my class (which is rare in our remote, rural area). But, you know what, they don't all buy this argument. They didn't grow up in a world that didn't allow mixed racial couples. Certainly, the attitude still persists, and some of them are no doubt coming from some deeply racist families, but they don't fight this one publicly.
It was just over ten years ago when I first began teaching. One of the articles we used for argument - from our textbook - took the position that women should not be allowed to fight in combat. The author researched and supported his claims and reasons - focusing on the lack of physical strength of women, the emotionality, the sexual distraction they would cause, and, ultimately, that put into a capture situation, a male soldier would break and give information if he were to have to witness his female counterpart being raped, because men have such a strong natural tendency to protect their women (as property? - because the rising dv statistics in our country have never proven otherwise).
I stopped using that particular article in my classes because I couldn't stand to hear students - male and female alike - sitting there arguing the theorized abilities, or lack thereof, of women. I couldn't tolerate the kinds of truly ignorant statements that were coming out of their mouths - about me. As a woman. How ruthless, how desensitized they had become to the human factor in their positions. But, what else had they known their whole lives - having grown up in this culture? And how much of that could I fight to change in a three-week session on argument? Not a lot.
And so I grew tired. Of this. Of gay issues in the classroom. How must it feel to be a gay student in the class while others argue your existence as a moral abomination? As less than? As inferior? No, I just don't feel I can do it.
Monday students are going to pick topics, and I can put gay marriage on the board or not. After the last elections, but maybe also because of them - and not only here, but looking at what other countries are doing (most notably Canada) - maybe it is time to give it another chance. I guess it will all depend on just how rested I feel when I walk into class...
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Monday, March 14, 2005
Who Would Complain About a Day Off?
I'm sure you'll know the answer to this without having to read any further, but, yep, it would be me. I don't want a day off.
I know it seems hard to believe, but there are a number of reasons for this response. The first is that, somehow, during fall semester, we have no breaks other than a staff denigration - er, I mean development day and the usual holiday suspects: Labor Day (usually the second week of class: go-stop-go), and Thanksgiving Thursday and Friday. Oh, and that ever sacred first day of deer rifle season [*duelin' banjos in the background*].
But, spring semester - whoo-doggie. We get a "mid-semester" break in February, SD day in March, then a five-day "spring" break over the Easter weekend, and miscellaneous snow days (see previous post...). So, two breaks and then some. Now, add to this conference time - I'm going to two and missing a total of five days of work...and it's making me crazy!
I'm not sure where this comes from. Initially, in my youth, others connected it to the strong work ethic of my farming family background. But it was my parents who grew up on the farm, not me. Maybe it has something to do with the whole Catholic guilt thing. Funny how the guilt lingers long after the religion is gone... Even as a student in college, when free will dictated (oxymoron) that I could skip class whenever I pleased, I just couldn't do it. I was in every single possible class. I didn't "skip" unless I had a really, really good reason to do so (like being sick or having crammed a paper in the night before and being totally exhausted - even then I might just show up to sleep through class).
Now, as an instructor, I hate to miss class days. I feel an inordinate amount of guilt toward my students - that I am in some way letting them down by not being there, even though it's for good reason. I hate calling in sick, and probably never would if it weren't for my husband standing in the doorway saying, "You are not going to work today. You are too sick!" It literally takes someone else telling me before I will call in.
How do my students feel about my being gone? It's hard to tell. I think they are pleased to have a day off, but two? Three? Four? At a certain point I can sense that even they are feeling it's excessive - especially when I tell them if they miss x# of days they may be asked to drop the class.
It's also not as if I'm not working or am not responsible for some level of professional involvement when I'm away at a conference. I am. I have to be up and attending sessions - sometimes earlier than I would ever be in class - and going all day long for several days in a row. Even when teaching, I have "down time" in the day. At conferences, there is no such thing - with some having events that go well into the evening (and no, not at a bar).
Still, these are some tough feelings for me to resolve, and result in my trying to find a way to work with my students when I am away from campus all this time. Do I get a sub for classes? Do I just let them "off" for the days? Do I set up a BlackBoard system to keep in touch? At what point does my trying to compensate only further aggravate my students who will see it as nothing more than "busy work" to make up for my not being there in the first place? And at what point are they justified in their feeling they are not getting their money's worth for the class?
Next week is spring break, and immediately after that, I will be on plane to the AWP in Vancouver, CA. By then, I hope to have figured out a solution to this internal struggle. If not, I know from my last conference experience in Florida that once that plane lifts off, there's nothing more I can do about it. Time only moves forward, and so must I.
I know it seems hard to believe, but there are a number of reasons for this response. The first is that, somehow, during fall semester, we have no breaks other than a staff denigration - er, I mean development day and the usual holiday suspects: Labor Day (usually the second week of class: go-stop-go), and Thanksgiving Thursday and Friday. Oh, and that ever sacred first day of deer rifle season [*duelin' banjos in the background*].
But, spring semester - whoo-doggie. We get a "mid-semester" break in February, SD day in March, then a five-day "spring" break over the Easter weekend, and miscellaneous snow days (see previous post...). So, two breaks and then some. Now, add to this conference time - I'm going to two and missing a total of five days of work...and it's making me crazy!
I'm not sure where this comes from. Initially, in my youth, others connected it to the strong work ethic of my farming family background. But it was my parents who grew up on the farm, not me. Maybe it has something to do with the whole Catholic guilt thing. Funny how the guilt lingers long after the religion is gone... Even as a student in college, when free will dictated (oxymoron) that I could skip class whenever I pleased, I just couldn't do it. I was in every single possible class. I didn't "skip" unless I had a really, really good reason to do so (like being sick or having crammed a paper in the night before and being totally exhausted - even then I might just show up to sleep through class).
Now, as an instructor, I hate to miss class days. I feel an inordinate amount of guilt toward my students - that I am in some way letting them down by not being there, even though it's for good reason. I hate calling in sick, and probably never would if it weren't for my husband standing in the doorway saying, "You are not going to work today. You are too sick!" It literally takes someone else telling me before I will call in.
How do my students feel about my being gone? It's hard to tell. I think they are pleased to have a day off, but two? Three? Four? At a certain point I can sense that even they are feeling it's excessive - especially when I tell them if they miss x# of days they may be asked to drop the class.
It's also not as if I'm not working or am not responsible for some level of professional involvement when I'm away at a conference. I am. I have to be up and attending sessions - sometimes earlier than I would ever be in class - and going all day long for several days in a row. Even when teaching, I have "down time" in the day. At conferences, there is no such thing - with some having events that go well into the evening (and no, not at a bar).
Still, these are some tough feelings for me to resolve, and result in my trying to find a way to work with my students when I am away from campus all this time. Do I get a sub for classes? Do I just let them "off" for the days? Do I set up a BlackBoard system to keep in touch? At what point does my trying to compensate only further aggravate my students who will see it as nothing more than "busy work" to make up for my not being there in the first place? And at what point are they justified in their feeling they are not getting their money's worth for the class?
Next week is spring break, and immediately after that, I will be on plane to the AWP in Vancouver, CA. By then, I hope to have figured out a solution to this internal struggle. If not, I know from my last conference experience in Florida that once that plane lifts off, there's nothing more I can do about it. Time only moves forward, and so must I.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
The Politics of Book Reviewing
Would love to be in attendance for this:
National Book Critics Circle hosts panel discussion on book reviewing and politics on Friday, March 18th, 2005
"Art Winslow will moderate 'Ax-Grinders, Score-Settlers and Pattycake: The Politics of Reviewing, and The Reviewing of Politics,' a conversation about how American political discourse influences criticism -- what books are assigned, how they are reviewed, who reviews them, how they operate as a Doppler wave to the much faster 24-hour news cycle -- and how criticism influences political discourse in return."
National Book Critics Circle hosts panel discussion on book reviewing and politics on Friday, March 18th, 2005
"Art Winslow will moderate 'Ax-Grinders, Score-Settlers and Pattycake: The Politics of Reviewing, and The Reviewing of Politics,' a conversation about how American political discourse influences criticism -- what books are assigned, how they are reviewed, who reviews them, how they operate as a Doppler wave to the much faster 24-hour news cycle -- and how criticism influences political discourse in return."
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Meting Out Awards
With all the controversy surrounding literary contests, it is interesting to read writers' takes on the whole process. I was especially intrigued by this review with K.E. Duffin and her perspective which creates a kind of art consumption as capitalist process and product, contests as a gatekeeper for supply and demand. Check it out. It's quite a ways down the page of the review, but the rest is an interesting read as well.
An Interview with K.E. Duffin
An Interview with K.E. Duffin
Meter This
Here's a neat feature - a free site meter. You can upgrade for additional features, but I like that it's just a counter and I can go to a site and track that stats for my page. It's fairly unobstrusive (see the very bottom of my page).
Get yer own: Site Meter
Get yer own: Site Meter
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Someone Always Won't Play Nice
My mother always told me, "Life is like a box of chocolates..." - oh no, wait, that's something else...
My mother always told me, no matter where I worked, there would be people I get along with, and people I don't. That's just the way it is.
At the time, I was working retail - selling cameras, then moved into bartending, then went on to slinging tofu in a health-food veggie bakery/care, then went on to working at a domestic violence shelter, then went on to teaching part time, then full-time advising, then...hey - wait a minute... This is about when I began to realize, my mother was (is) right. I thought it was only while I was working minimum wage or barely better jobs that it would happen that way. Not true. It happens all the way through. At least, as far as I can tell right now.
I guess I thought that once I had gotten a *higher* degree and was really working in the job and field I love, for some reason things would be different - the people would be different - the relationships would be different. I mean, we're all educated professionals, right? Not children on the playground fighting over sandbox turf.
Before I got my FIRST full-time teaching job, I had always looked with envy upon the full-time faculty, watched them at meetings as they joked around with their peers, made plans to organize events and oversee projects, heard them invite one another to drinks, dinner, parties... I thought, "That's the way I want to be. That's how it must be when you get *there*." The ever mysterious *there* that is never where you are, but is still out there somewhere, achievable, no doubt, by anyone except yourself.
And do I have this now? Now that after ten years of searching I have that elusive full-time teaching job? Yes. I do have what I saw there. I have GREAT colleagues who are supportive, who are understanding, who listen, who count on me to listen, who share, who commiserate... Yes. I have this. But, I also have what I thought I would some day outgrow - I have those colleagues who seem to exist only to make others' lives miserable, who, no matter what you do, they are never satisfied, who are not happy unless they are unhappy, who cycle in and out of psychosis and psychological states that - if all alone on a desert island they would be okay - but they're not. They're my colleagues. And so, I have to find a way to deal, to adapt, to get along, to suffer - silently or out loud - and to just get through the day. Remembering, as best I can, what my mother told me: After all, it is just a job. Don't make it your life. And know when to walk away.
My mother always told me, no matter where I worked, there would be people I get along with, and people I don't. That's just the way it is.
At the time, I was working retail - selling cameras, then moved into bartending, then went on to slinging tofu in a health-food veggie bakery/care, then went on to working at a domestic violence shelter, then went on to teaching part time, then full-time advising, then...hey - wait a minute... This is about when I began to realize, my mother was (is) right. I thought it was only while I was working minimum wage or barely better jobs that it would happen that way. Not true. It happens all the way through. At least, as far as I can tell right now.
I guess I thought that once I had gotten a *higher* degree and was really working in the job and field I love, for some reason things would be different - the people would be different - the relationships would be different. I mean, we're all educated professionals, right? Not children on the playground fighting over sandbox turf.
Before I got my FIRST full-time teaching job, I had always looked with envy upon the full-time faculty, watched them at meetings as they joked around with their peers, made plans to organize events and oversee projects, heard them invite one another to drinks, dinner, parties... I thought, "That's the way I want to be. That's how it must be when you get *there*." The ever mysterious *there* that is never where you are, but is still out there somewhere, achievable, no doubt, by anyone except yourself.
And do I have this now? Now that after ten years of searching I have that elusive full-time teaching job? Yes. I do have what I saw there. I have GREAT colleagues who are supportive, who are understanding, who listen, who count on me to listen, who share, who commiserate... Yes. I have this. But, I also have what I thought I would some day outgrow - I have those colleagues who seem to exist only to make others' lives miserable, who, no matter what you do, they are never satisfied, who are not happy unless they are unhappy, who cycle in and out of psychosis and psychological states that - if all alone on a desert island they would be okay - but they're not. They're my colleagues. And so, I have to find a way to deal, to adapt, to get along, to suffer - silently or out loud - and to just get through the day. Remembering, as best I can, what my mother told me: After all, it is just a job. Don't make it your life. And know when to walk away.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Back Just in Time
"Other Words" - the first annual conference of the Florida Literary Arts Council (yes, FLAC) - was a tremendous experience. It was exhilarating and humbling, as any good intellectual venture should be (IMHO).
I was able to meet many individuals whom I had only known by name via the web before, but knew them nonetheless. I was able to re-meet some folks I had initially met in Chicago at last year's AWP - but what a zoo that is, and how can anyone remember anyone except to meet them again. And I met new people - how else could our paths have ever crossed had it not been for this event? Now, I consider it a lucky thing, though they may think otherwise!
The greatest experience for me was the afternoon keynote speakers, whose works I hope will be posted very soon on NewPages web site (I will link ASAP). While keynotes generally bore me to doodles, these were amazing. The ideas, the concepts, the thought processes and the visions that were portrayed through these words opened my very heart and soul to a new light, and helped some of those floundering thoughts that have been swimming alone on their own come to a strong sense of connectivity. It really was revelatory for me, and set the tone for the whole weekend.
The sessions I attended were packed, which is good, and I was able to share in exchanges and garner new ideas from the topics. The sessions we gave were well-enough attended, and I learned a great deal in a short period about how to be a better panel member, and how to better prepare for the unexpected. I felt it was a good experience all the way around, but I know when/if I were to do it again, I could and would expect myself to do better.
On the plane ride home last night, after 12 hours in transit, thinking back over the weekend and forward to the reality of my day-to-day teaching job ahead, I felt a twinge of excitement. I was honestly looking forward to going back into the classroom. There was nothing in particular over the weekend that related directly to what I was currently doing in class, and that may be why, suddenly, I felt a charge - a kind of renewal, intellectually, personally, spiritually - I felt recharged, having spent four days doing anything but teaching undergraduate composition students, and, honestly, it felt great. I ventured out, I feed another part of myself that needed the attention, and as a result, felt I was coming back with a renewed interest in my work. Wow. Now that's one I didn't count on coming over me!
And today, I am exhausted. After four days of walking for miles every day, back and forth, sitting in the warm sunshine, talking with other book lovers, writers, teachers and students, listening to speakers and poets, dinner conversation over many glasses of beer and wine until 3am - because, as Casey said, "You can sleep later" - I feel we have returned just in time to capture this experience, to take it forward in our own lives and to build on it. That's my plan anyway. Right after I take a nap...
I was able to meet many individuals whom I had only known by name via the web before, but knew them nonetheless. I was able to re-meet some folks I had initially met in Chicago at last year's AWP - but what a zoo that is, and how can anyone remember anyone except to meet them again. And I met new people - how else could our paths have ever crossed had it not been for this event? Now, I consider it a lucky thing, though they may think otherwise!
The greatest experience for me was the afternoon keynote speakers, whose works I hope will be posted very soon on NewPages web site (I will link ASAP). While keynotes generally bore me to doodles, these were amazing. The ideas, the concepts, the thought processes and the visions that were portrayed through these words opened my very heart and soul to a new light, and helped some of those floundering thoughts that have been swimming alone on their own come to a strong sense of connectivity. It really was revelatory for me, and set the tone for the whole weekend.
The sessions I attended were packed, which is good, and I was able to share in exchanges and garner new ideas from the topics. The sessions we gave were well-enough attended, and I learned a great deal in a short period about how to be a better panel member, and how to better prepare for the unexpected. I felt it was a good experience all the way around, but I know when/if I were to do it again, I could and would expect myself to do better.
On the plane ride home last night, after 12 hours in transit, thinking back over the weekend and forward to the reality of my day-to-day teaching job ahead, I felt a twinge of excitement. I was honestly looking forward to going back into the classroom. There was nothing in particular over the weekend that related directly to what I was currently doing in class, and that may be why, suddenly, I felt a charge - a kind of renewal, intellectually, personally, spiritually - I felt recharged, having spent four days doing anything but teaching undergraduate composition students, and, honestly, it felt great. I ventured out, I feed another part of myself that needed the attention, and as a result, felt I was coming back with a renewed interest in my work. Wow. Now that's one I didn't count on coming over me!
And today, I am exhausted. After four days of walking for miles every day, back and forth, sitting in the warm sunshine, talking with other book lovers, writers, teachers and students, listening to speakers and poets, dinner conversation over many glasses of beer and wine until 3am - because, as Casey said, "You can sleep later" - I feel we have returned just in time to capture this experience, to take it forward in our own lives and to build on it. That's my plan anyway. Right after I take a nap...
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Snow Bird
I've never been a snow bird
I never thought I'd be one
But pay my way to Florida
And...and...I'm on the first plane out of here tomorrow morning!
Going to Other Words: A Conference of Literary Magazines, Independent Publishers and Writers in Tallahassee, Florida.
Check out details at:
www.anhinga.org/pdf/FLACe-mailer_1004-2.pdf
I'll be speaking on a panel for review writing as well as one on publishing online. I'm excited to be asked to speak - this is the first time ever! I'll be sure to post my experience here as well as share cool info I learn.
Woo-hoo! Florida in the dead middle of winter! Who needs snow days?!
I never thought I'd be one
But pay my way to Florida
And...and...I'm on the first plane out of here tomorrow morning!
Going to Other Words: A Conference of Literary Magazines, Independent Publishers and Writers in Tallahassee, Florida.
Check out details at:
www.anhinga.org/pdf/FLACe-mailer_1004-2.pdf
I'll be speaking on a panel for review writing as well as one on publishing online. I'm excited to be asked to speak - this is the first time ever! I'll be sure to post my experience here as well as share cool info I learn.
Woo-hoo! Florida in the dead middle of winter! Who needs snow days?!
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Snow Daze
When I was a kid, I used to look forward to snow days in winter. Who didn't? My gosh, a whole day, all to yourself with no school, to go play in the yard, build snowmen, go sledding then sit inside and drink hot chocolate and read a book. Mmmmmm...
Now, as a teacher, I have mixed feelings about snow days. I hate to miss a day of school - lest my students "get behind" - behind what, of course is the real question. Sure, I would love a "day off" from work. But that day off, as rare as they come in college, is usually spent catching up on papers and homework that I would otherwise be spending my weekend time or evenings completing. Or, it's spent doing all those household chores that tend to get conveniently ignored with 12-hour teaching days as an "excuse" - including cleaning the cat box, scrubbing the tub, clearing the inch of dust off the television and REALLY mopping the floor - not just using one of those Swiffer deals.
And of course, for overachievers such as myself, there's all the Suzie-homemaker goals to achieve - baking cookings, creating a new and exciting dinner entree, and whipping up some exotic chocolate dessert with a name that can't be pronounced without sounding completely stupid to those speakers of the native tongue.
But this time, I feel different. As I watch the snow come down tonight, and the winds gust, and the college having closed early today, I know exactly where I'll be tomorrow should a snow day be called - 1) sleeping in until *heaven forbid* 8:00am; 2) drinking coffee and writing at my table while looking out over the snow-drifted lawn; 3) on the couch reading one of the many novels I have started and have yet to finish; 4)napping by 2pm; 5) maybe a light workout by 5pm; 6) microwave dinners by 7pm, assuming my husband has braved the roads to go out and get a bottle of wine. If not, then it's beer and nachos.
Ahhh...snow days...
Now, as a teacher, I have mixed feelings about snow days. I hate to miss a day of school - lest my students "get behind" - behind what, of course is the real question. Sure, I would love a "day off" from work. But that day off, as rare as they come in college, is usually spent catching up on papers and homework that I would otherwise be spending my weekend time or evenings completing. Or, it's spent doing all those household chores that tend to get conveniently ignored with 12-hour teaching days as an "excuse" - including cleaning the cat box, scrubbing the tub, clearing the inch of dust off the television and REALLY mopping the floor - not just using one of those Swiffer deals.
And of course, for overachievers such as myself, there's all the Suzie-homemaker goals to achieve - baking cookings, creating a new and exciting dinner entree, and whipping up some exotic chocolate dessert with a name that can't be pronounced without sounding completely stupid to those speakers of the native tongue.
But this time, I feel different. As I watch the snow come down tonight, and the winds gust, and the college having closed early today, I know exactly where I'll be tomorrow should a snow day be called - 1) sleeping in until *heaven forbid* 8:00am; 2) drinking coffee and writing at my table while looking out over the snow-drifted lawn; 3) on the couch reading one of the many novels I have started and have yet to finish; 4)napping by 2pm; 5) maybe a light workout by 5pm; 6) microwave dinners by 7pm, assuming my husband has braved the roads to go out and get a bottle of wine. If not, then it's beer and nachos.
Ahhh...snow days...
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Best Online Stories
The Million Writers Award
Top Online Short Stories of 2004.
http://www.storysouth.com/millionwriters/2004notablestories.html
"Whether you are just beginning to explore the world of online fiction or are an old-hand to the realm, you will find much to enjoy here. All genres of short stories are represented. All types of writing styles are on exhibit. Journals from around the world are highlighted. The only criteria used to select these stories was excellence and, as you will see, there is plenty of excellence to be found among online journals and magazines."
This is a great collection of online stories. I like having my students check out online lit mags and read the newest fictions being published, and this is a way to read the "best of the best" - of course, only according to the opinions of those judging. But there is a collection out there in print - The Best Short Stories of (Fill in the Year), and many teachers use that as a classroom text. This is just another way to have readers accessing literature - and for no cost, which any student can certainly appreciate!
Top Online Short Stories of 2004.
http://www.storysouth.com/millionwriters/2004notablestories.html
"Whether you are just beginning to explore the world of online fiction or are an old-hand to the realm, you will find much to enjoy here. All genres of short stories are represented. All types of writing styles are on exhibit. Journals from around the world are highlighted. The only criteria used to select these stories was excellence and, as you will see, there is plenty of excellence to be found among online journals and magazines."
This is a great collection of online stories. I like having my students check out online lit mags and read the newest fictions being published, and this is a way to read the "best of the best" - of course, only according to the opinions of those judging. But there is a collection out there in print - The Best Short Stories of (Fill in the Year), and many teachers use that as a classroom text. This is just another way to have readers accessing literature - and for no cost, which any student can certainly appreciate!
Friday, February 25, 2005
Winning is Nothing
I and several of my colleagues together won an award for work we have been doing to bring accessible literature and the arts to our isolated, rural community. It was great to know that we had been recognized for our work. I had always seen pictures at conferences and in professional publications of people who have won awards and thought, What does it take to get an award like that? How do people "win" something like that? Now I know. You don't set out to do it at all. In fact, that's not even at all what you think about. The award isn't won, it's given, out of recognition, out of admiration, out of appreciation, for something you just do.
The work we did was work we all wanted to see happen because we care - about our craft and about our community. We wanted to see poetry readings, we wanted to see a literary-art publication, we wanted to be a part of it. We had a desire and a passion that drove us, and our own needs to be fulfilled in the process, so in some ways, it is also selfish, but ultimately benefits others. Selfish in the sense that, well, sitting on work committees, while (supposedly) benefiting others, certainly feeds no desire or passion of mine. Chances are, nowadays, if I'm on a committee, it's because I got wrangled into one somehow: Enrollment Management, Curriculum, PR... Really, I've no burning desires to be fulfilled in those areas. Others may, and that's great for them. But I'd rather be working on a poetry reading or a lit mag. There's my desire. There's my passion.
So, we "win" an award for innovative leadership. And I drive for 2 1/2 hours with my husband downstate to receive the award, thinking all about how it will be. People at their tables, applauding us as we walk forward. We're asked to say a few words, we're handed our awards, another round of applause, pictures, we return to our seats, my husband beaming with pride, and we glow in the aftermath of recognition.
Reality check. It's a tense ride down, we're late getting on the road (another story for another day), but we do get there in time. It's lunch, but I'm so stressed from the ride down, I can't eat. The room is packed, people are not polite when we ask if chairs are available, but finally we get two together and squeeze in next to a woman who's none too pleased we have taken up a few inches of her elbow room. That's okay, I think jokingly to myself, she doesn't know I'm famous yet...
I look around the room and see all the people I have known for many years - academics, scholars, rhetoricians, researchers - and suddenly, I'm feeling very small and very stupid. I have never felt in a league with others in my field whom I consider more "intellectual" than me. The room begins to clear out as people finish their lunches - the audience size dwindling - and in a way, I'm grateful for this. The speaker gets up and begins with a few announcements. My stomach is flip-flopping. My colleague says to me, "If they ask us to speak, will you do it?" I nod, hesitantly at first, but secretly knowing I have been running through a speech in my head the whole way down.
We wait through more announcements, then a raffle. Then another raffle. Then yet another raffle. More people are leaving the room until just a skeletal crew of the too-lazy-to-walk-after-lunch is left. Finally, they come around to the awards. We're asked to stand, so we do, then just keep standing there. The woman speaking isn't sure where the awards are, or what to do next. I push my colleague forward and we walk to the stage amid a smattering of applause. We step up as she finds the awards, shakes his hand, gives him the plaques. She shows them to the audience and describes them. She looks again at my colleague (not at me once) and says she doesn't know what she's doing, shakes his hand again. I hold out my hand, and for the first time, I think she realizes I am there. She shakes it quickly, we step down from the stage and are stopped for a picture.
I walk back to my seat accompanied by a few gratuitous claps. My husband looks bored at best, and is most likely wondering how he got talked into losing a whole day's work to be there, and says nothing as we sit down. Others congratulate us briefly, and the rest continue to lilt away as the second award is presented.
That was it. No grand ceremony. No great speeches. No beaming admiration.
We left, got back in the car and made the return trip in as much silence as the trip down.
And, so I've learned from this (of course, there has to be a what have you learned from this part, right?) - winning is nothing, it's the having done and continuing to do that matters; maintain a humble appreciation for others' recognition; never go to award ceremonies expecting anything other than the company of others (polite or otherwise); and if you want beaming admiration, invite your parents. Once they're dead, see if you can bring your dog along, but remember to put a few biscuits in your pocket.
The work we did was work we all wanted to see happen because we care - about our craft and about our community. We wanted to see poetry readings, we wanted to see a literary-art publication, we wanted to be a part of it. We had a desire and a passion that drove us, and our own needs to be fulfilled in the process, so in some ways, it is also selfish, but ultimately benefits others. Selfish in the sense that, well, sitting on work committees, while (supposedly) benefiting others, certainly feeds no desire or passion of mine. Chances are, nowadays, if I'm on a committee, it's because I got wrangled into one somehow: Enrollment Management, Curriculum, PR... Really, I've no burning desires to be fulfilled in those areas. Others may, and that's great for them. But I'd rather be working on a poetry reading or a lit mag. There's my desire. There's my passion.
So, we "win" an award for innovative leadership. And I drive for 2 1/2 hours with my husband downstate to receive the award, thinking all about how it will be. People at their tables, applauding us as we walk forward. We're asked to say a few words, we're handed our awards, another round of applause, pictures, we return to our seats, my husband beaming with pride, and we glow in the aftermath of recognition.
Reality check. It's a tense ride down, we're late getting on the road (another story for another day), but we do get there in time. It's lunch, but I'm so stressed from the ride down, I can't eat. The room is packed, people are not polite when we ask if chairs are available, but finally we get two together and squeeze in next to a woman who's none too pleased we have taken up a few inches of her elbow room. That's okay, I think jokingly to myself, she doesn't know I'm famous yet...
I look around the room and see all the people I have known for many years - academics, scholars, rhetoricians, researchers - and suddenly, I'm feeling very small and very stupid. I have never felt in a league with others in my field whom I consider more "intellectual" than me. The room begins to clear out as people finish their lunches - the audience size dwindling - and in a way, I'm grateful for this. The speaker gets up and begins with a few announcements. My stomach is flip-flopping. My colleague says to me, "If they ask us to speak, will you do it?" I nod, hesitantly at first, but secretly knowing I have been running through a speech in my head the whole way down.
We wait through more announcements, then a raffle. Then another raffle. Then yet another raffle. More people are leaving the room until just a skeletal crew of the too-lazy-to-walk-after-lunch is left. Finally, they come around to the awards. We're asked to stand, so we do, then just keep standing there. The woman speaking isn't sure where the awards are, or what to do next. I push my colleague forward and we walk to the stage amid a smattering of applause. We step up as she finds the awards, shakes his hand, gives him the plaques. She shows them to the audience and describes them. She looks again at my colleague (not at me once) and says she doesn't know what she's doing, shakes his hand again. I hold out my hand, and for the first time, I think she realizes I am there. She shakes it quickly, we step down from the stage and are stopped for a picture.
I walk back to my seat accompanied by a few gratuitous claps. My husband looks bored at best, and is most likely wondering how he got talked into losing a whole day's work to be there, and says nothing as we sit down. Others congratulate us briefly, and the rest continue to lilt away as the second award is presented.
That was it. No grand ceremony. No great speeches. No beaming admiration.
We left, got back in the car and made the return trip in as much silence as the trip down.
And, so I've learned from this (of course, there has to be a what have you learned from this part, right?) - winning is nothing, it's the having done and continuing to do that matters; maintain a humble appreciation for others' recognition; never go to award ceremonies expecting anything other than the company of others (polite or otherwise); and if you want beaming admiration, invite your parents. Once they're dead, see if you can bring your dog along, but remember to put a few biscuits in your pocket.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Be Progressive - Be-ee Progressive!
"Campus Progress, a project of the Center for American Progress, is a
brand-new effort to strengthen progressive voices on college and university campuses nationwide; counter the growing influence of right-wing groups on campus; and empower new generations of progressive leaders."
http://www.campusprogress.org/
My favorite is the "Who Defines Your Values" ad. Look for the link for it at the bottom of the homepage.
brand-new effort to strengthen progressive voices on college and university campuses nationwide; counter the growing influence of right-wing groups on campus; and empower new generations of progressive leaders."
http://www.campusprogress.org/
My favorite is the "Who Defines Your Values" ad. Look for the link for it at the bottom of the homepage.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Hunter is Dead
The death of Hunter S. Thompson Sunday night took me by surprise. I had one of those pangs that starts in the stomach and shoots outward through the limbs, followed by a numb tingling. It wasn't that I knew or really cared that much about him as a writer, because I didn't. I've read some of his works and never thought much of them. He was a writer larger in life than in print, so it seemed to me. Of course, as with any writer, he surely had his following. He was a literary and pop culture icon of a darker sort, a kind romanticized in the same way as Hemingway and his life. He was characterized in movies - played most recently by Johnny Depp, and prior to that by Bill Murray - as well as in comics - Doonsbury. I'm sure there were far more people who knew about him from these venues than ever actually read his works.
All the same, my feelings of shock and sadness were for the character of Hunter S., and for the sense of "end of an era" in my lifetime. I felt old for knowing who he was as well as for feeling a bout of tenderness at his passing. That he took his own life is no more the tragedy; if anything, it is quite in step with his character and, while sad in the sort of way that makes us wonder why or if something could have been done, it was not shocking.
Hunter S. is the second of those writers whom I have known to take his life in such fashion, which also stirred my emotions to recall. Richard Brautigan also committed suicide by shooting himself. I came to know his writing in 1983 and fell in love with his works. I read everything I could get my hands on. Several years later, I found out he had killed himself in 1984. I was stunned and angry that a writer whom I had only just discovered and sought out to read so thoroughly would write no more. I was angry that he was alive when I first read him, and even spent time in my hometown, but I would never get the chance to know him. I was angry at Brautigan for removing himself from this world, for taking his writing away. And though I don't feel this way about Hunter S., I'm sure there are those who do, and who will.
To Richard and to Hunter - rest in peace.
All the same, my feelings of shock and sadness were for the character of Hunter S., and for the sense of "end of an era" in my lifetime. I felt old for knowing who he was as well as for feeling a bout of tenderness at his passing. That he took his own life is no more the tragedy; if anything, it is quite in step with his character and, while sad in the sort of way that makes us wonder why or if something could have been done, it was not shocking.
Hunter S. is the second of those writers whom I have known to take his life in such fashion, which also stirred my emotions to recall. Richard Brautigan also committed suicide by shooting himself. I came to know his writing in 1983 and fell in love with his works. I read everything I could get my hands on. Several years later, I found out he had killed himself in 1984. I was stunned and angry that a writer whom I had only just discovered and sought out to read so thoroughly would write no more. I was angry that he was alive when I first read him, and even spent time in my hometown, but I would never get the chance to know him. I was angry at Brautigan for removing himself from this world, for taking his writing away. And though I don't feel this way about Hunter S., I'm sure there are those who do, and who will.
To Richard and to Hunter - rest in peace.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
My First Blog
I'm no longer a blog virgin. Hmmmm. I don't feel like I'm glowing or tingly or anything. Oh well, why should this be any different? So, I'm going to become a blogger. I work on the web, I teach on the web, I depend on the web, so why not add some of my life to the web. I plan to have my students blog instead of keeping journals for basic composition class, and so, before I can teach it, I have to do it. Then, in a year, my students will be showing me more cool stuff about blogging than I ever could have figured out on my own. That's the joy of teaching!
Blogging instead of keeping a paper journal will be better for my students for several reasons:
1) They will learn computer skills. No, not all of them have those skills, and not all of them are very strong in those skills. I teach in a not-so-affluent, remote, rural area, and the more exposure I can help my students have to technology, the better.
2) It will get them to be more interactive in their thought process and analytical skills - thinking about others reading their blogs, having to read and respond to other students' blogs. More of a writers community than the individual, private journals. Those have their place, don't get me wrong, but I think my students can have some fun going public, and even airing their private ideas to the public. Hey, it's up to them what they want to share. Blogger.com sents the rules, not me.
3) They don't write in their paper journals. Okay, well, they do, but not like they "should." I assign three journals a week, and then collect their journals at certain intervals throughout the semester. By week five, they should have 15 journals done. By week five, I have students with none completed, and I listen to them talk about how they'll be up all night writing to get them done. Okay, I do tell them it's about quantity of writing, not necessarily quality when it comes to a journal, but this seems excessive in the practice of procrastination. With blogs, it will be easier for me to see that they are completing the work on a regular basis.
4) Blogs are cool. Way cooler than those ugly black and white composition books (which I, by the way, use - which is a clear indication they are not cool to a younger generation). So, they might actually like blogging and show it off to their family and friends, whereas the journal is hidden away.
5) After class is over, they may just keep it going. Wouldn't that be cool?
Blogging instead of keeping a paper journal will be better for my students for several reasons:
1) They will learn computer skills. No, not all of them have those skills, and not all of them are very strong in those skills. I teach in a not-so-affluent, remote, rural area, and the more exposure I can help my students have to technology, the better.
2) It will get them to be more interactive in their thought process and analytical skills - thinking about others reading their blogs, having to read and respond to other students' blogs. More of a writers community than the individual, private journals. Those have their place, don't get me wrong, but I think my students can have some fun going public, and even airing their private ideas to the public. Hey, it's up to them what they want to share. Blogger.com sents the rules, not me.
3) They don't write in their paper journals. Okay, well, they do, but not like they "should." I assign three journals a week, and then collect their journals at certain intervals throughout the semester. By week five, they should have 15 journals done. By week five, I have students with none completed, and I listen to them talk about how they'll be up all night writing to get them done. Okay, I do tell them it's about quantity of writing, not necessarily quality when it comes to a journal, but this seems excessive in the practice of procrastination. With blogs, it will be easier for me to see that they are completing the work on a regular basis.
4) Blogs are cool. Way cooler than those ugly black and white composition books (which I, by the way, use - which is a clear indication they are not cool to a younger generation). So, they might actually like blogging and show it off to their family and friends, whereas the journal is hidden away.
5) After class is over, they may just keep it going. Wouldn't that be cool?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)