Parts-n-Pieces

RBOC (end of November edition)

Good Things, Random Bullets, The Dissertation, . . . and a some other bulleted stuff.

Good Things:

• The Bundle came home for Thanksgiving (her quarter break).
• The Bundle has now gone home . . . heh, "home" . . . her place.
• The house is fairly clean and laundry is done.  Good enough for now.
• The blogs that students created this semester are terrific.  Most students wrote most of the time, and they wrote thoughtful and careful posts.  I'm so proud. :-)   NaBloPoMo helped keep everyone accountable.
• The fireplace works just fine . . . as long as I leave one window open.  (It's not quite cold enough here for a fire.)
• The grading is done (almost) . . . just a few late arriving pieces.
• The social-networking tools I use frequently . . . what a great way to stay connected to people I enjoy and care about.
• The end of the semester in about two weeks.  This one has been surreal.
• The RSA Summer Institute.  I registered, and it should be just awesome.  One seminar and one workshop are directly related to the work I am doing and the work I'm planning for the spring/summer.
• The iPod and "shuffle" music
• The dinner at my sister's . . . playing poker with the fam is always fun.
• The classes I'm slated to teach next spring excite me greatly:  Intermediate Composition (rhetoric and documentary film), Sophomore Seminar (Writing through Photography), and Advanced Composition (multi-genre writing) -- those RSA seminar/workshop will be useful for future studies.

Random Bullets of Crap:

• Using the Geo-phyzz bath bomb from Lush Products is mighty fine. Relaxing.  It makes for an expensive bath, but worth it.
• Stressing just slightly that I have only heard from a handful of places from this current job search.  The wait is expected, but still difficult.
• Checking the rhet/comp wiki too often.
• Feeling sad for the young widow who lived behind me (she moved out today). Her husband passed away a few days ago (he was 36).  She now has no job (he was the family provider) and three young children.  So sad. She's gone home to live with her parents.
• Feeling a bit disappointed in some folks I know quite well who said nothing (not a word) about my own illness this semester or my sister's death.  But then, they did the same thing when my mother died a few years ago.  Par?  Maybe.  Disappointing, nonetheless.
• Learning that Patti Smith was awarded an honorary doctorate from Rowan University this past May.  Good for her and good for Rowan!  A bit of a site note:  Rowan sent me a very, very nicely worded rejection letter.

The Dissertation

• Wondering why it's not done yet . . .  it's not like I have anything else to do (besides, you know, teach 9 million students and read 19 gazillion essays).  Truly.  The date they gave me to make the corrections the rogue committee member demanded is 12/3 (Wednesday).
• Wondering if I am close to being done?  Not on your life.  The more I change, the more that needs changing. 
• Wondering when "enough" is "enough"?
• Wondering "what if" they (or this one person) still has issues with something that's taken me two years to write?

Other stuff:

• Headache.  'nuff said ... I've had this headache for weeks (months), and it won't go away.  Sometimes it's mild; sometimes it's not (like now).  Nothing seems to help.
• As much as I like working with student-athletes, realizing that having 80-90 percent in one class (or in two classes, actually) makes it almost impossible to keep on a schedule . . . some group of them is always gone. The lack of a consistent schedule has been hard on everyone . . . but guess who's course evaluations will suffer?
• Patti Smith appears frequently on my iPod shuffle. I'm not complaining, mind you, just noticing.  (I really love the B&W image on her site.)

I suppose I should end on a positive note: 

The semester is almost over, the diss will be finished before too long, MLA (and San Francisco) is coming up, I have some really great students this term, I'll be teaching classes that I'm excited about next term, my daughter is healthy, and there is money in the bank.  Life is good.

Thanksgiving 2008 (Gratitude Photo Essay)

107 random things for which I'm grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!

Flickr photo set.

Dissertation Defense Metaphor

No, I don't advocate violence or threats of any kind.  However, this image, taken at yesterday's football game, seems appropriate to my current situation.  I surely wouldn't want to be a committee facing that O-line.  Just sayin'....

Actually, this image can explain my dissertation in many ways (which, of course, I am not going to elaborate upon here):  three-man line vs. an eight-man line (surely the 8-man line is stronger, faster, better able to move the ball, as there are more of them); white vs. black; right vs. left; home-field advantage; underdog vs. top dog; academy vs. sport.  It's all something to explore another day. A random photograph has so much to say.

In the meantime, I'm the quarterback in this little dissertation defense drama; I call the plays, I move the ball, I direct the team to its next play or score.  That would be me.  Me, the quarterback. 

 

Abandoned (by human touch) . . .

Original image below the jump (embiggen to see detail).

Delayed Dissertation Defense and Students, What a Great Combination

The past 36 hours have been so very difficult.  As many of you know-- those of you who know me in real life-- I have not had the most traditional graduate school experience.  While this isn't a bad or negative thing, it is nontraditional, and therefore, sometimes difficult to know how to handle.

Anyway.  It seems that things are going to work out, but they are not going to work out according to the time schedule that most of us followed.  Someone else has set the agenda-- unbeknownst to the rest of us-- but hey, now that we know, we can deal.  (The fact that none of us knew, well, that's a problem.  But it's not my problem.)

I do, however, can list some good things, and they concern students:

While we can all grumble and whine about students from time to time-- not to be the negative naysayers who reside in the teachers' lounge-- but in our fatigue and overwork, yea, we can complain.  I know how shocking it is to hear, but yes, I have complained about student behavior [hangs head in shame].  But not today.  (And really, not usually.)  Today, two really great things happened about students:

At least it is headed away from the ledge...

Embiggen to see detail.

The background is what intrigues me....

Options (all or none, one or two?) Or, none of the above?

click to embiggen (best large)

Photographic Mojo

Good Things (Heading into the Abyss Edition)

An abyss:  a bottomless gulf, pit or chaos of the old cosmogonies; an immeasurably deep gulf or great space.  Wait, doesn't that describe graduate school?!?!?!?    I was told to "expect anything" today.  That sounds like I'm venturing into another abyss (the final abyss maybe?).

Some good things to (re)direct my focus:

• Growing a Volkswagen-sized zit on the bridge of my nose . . . it's a good thing in the sense that these folks today might not ask me anything because they'll be so horrified and terrified by the zit that they'll run from the room screaming.  I can only hope.

• Knowing the Bundle is asleep in the next room.  She is (we are) such an exception to any statistic about what happens to children of single-parents.  She has God's blessing on her life, and I know it.  Lord, how I know it.

• Having lunch with a friend yesterday who places my career trajectory in such clear context and focus . . . My career path is not typical, she says, but then "neither are you."  She reminds me that "idealism" is not a bad word.

• Being told to "expect anything" today . . . and that "anything" could be failure, conditional pass, pass, or a strategy meeting.  Why is the uncertainty a "good thing" you might ask?  It keeps me on my toes and keeps me prepared!  (envision the thumbs up sign here) [/sarcasm]

• Telling the "Cliff Notes" version of my educational history to a few women after class the other day (they asked, I didn't offer) . . . rising from divorce, attending a community college (and feeling oh-so-accomplished), then a university ('cause I worked there), receiving a scholarship to a Master's program . . . then the Ph.D.  I'm not supposed to have this path . . . the path of the educated is much smoother, more paved.  I was raised in a rented mobile home, and nothing was paved.  We had gravel roads.  Still.

• Coming to the end of a very long 9-year graduate school journey.   Nine years.  Yes, most people get out in 4 or 5.  Me?  Nine years.  But then, at the same time, I have held two full-time jobs in the profession I was studying to enter, I directed a successful nonprofit organization, I have been an active member of my community, I reared an amazing daughter by myself.  (Oh, yea, and every member of the dept. I studied under left that institution.)  In all that light, nine years doesn't sound so long.

• Listening to Patti Smith talk about William Blake (the muse for "My Blakean Year").  ... Blake never had any real success, he lived in a continued state of poverty, he was never understood by his contemporaries, but he never let go of his vision or his visionary powers.

• Charging the batteries of my camera . . . no matter what happens today, I will pick up my camera tomorrow.

• Receiving an email a bit after midnight last night from a former student-- Case Study #3 of my dissertation -- an unprompted and unsolicited email from a student who is no longer at the institution . . . a simple email that said he was thinking of me . . . his favorite professor at TCU.  How sweet.  How timely.

• Reminding myself that through students like CS#3, through my daughter, through my friends, through the women we aided and changed in the shelters and in the elementary-school programs we implemented, I have changed lives.  With or without the credential, I have changed lives.  Isn't that really the point?

• Listening to Southside Johnny's "Under the Sun" over and over.  I'm loving this song.  (Heh, I just thought of this:  he's another example of one so very talented, but who has never received the accolades and recognition of his same-state peer.  He's affected people.)

No matter what happens today, with or without the degree, I will have crossed over that bottomless abyss.   I don't know what awaits, and it doesn't matter.  I will move forward.  And on.  Always on.

I'm in love all over again....

In prepping for today's class (embedding videos into a blog post then writing about the argument in that video), I stumbled upon this little gem . . . of course the students will find a video clip about the documentary, The Corporation, but me? Well, I get to fall in love all over again.

He's still hot today, but in 1978? OMG.

Veterans Day -- 2008

My dad, in 1943 (he was about 18):

I know how hard the war was on you dad, but thank you for your service.

A Critical Pedagogue and Her Students

Hello.  My name is Billie, and I'm a critical pedagogue.  Admitting it is the first step in recovery, right?  However, I'm not sure I'm the one needing "recovery."  I need something else. 

---

.

By this point in almost any semester, we are all tired, the students and me.  Three weeks left, maybe four, until the end.  We all get a little testy, as we all want the semester to be over.  It is in the fatigue and stress that students want shortcuts, to get the easy way out.  It is in the fatigue and stress that I want to relax standards, to just get to the end. 

.

But I know better.

.

Critical pedagogy is hard work, and the majority of students I have had over the years have responded favorably to this approach . . . they might not respond favorably at the end-of-semester teaching evaluations (which is another post for another day), but later, when they've had time to reflect and consider and have had other types of professors, they thank me for the uniqueness of my courses, for challenging their sense of what is "appropriate" for a college classroom, and for making them consider perspectives outside their own.  My unorthodox techniques can be unsettling to some students.  But later on, they get it.  I get a lot of "thank yous" from former students.

.

But at this point of the semester, I'm tired and the energy it takes to be a critical pedagogue is energy I don't often think I have.

A Little Grace and Mercy (an example from HOPE Farm)

A few years ago, I participated in a service-learning project with the first ICW class.  We worked with a group called H.O.P.E. Farm, Inc.  HOPE Farm is a nonprofit agency that strives to give young boys -- most African-American and Hispanic boys, boys (5 to about 15) who do come from single parent homes -- a father (figure).  The agency (and its male staff members) provide male leadership, companionship, and instruction.  HOPE Farm is a Christian organization, so it is run with that model, that the man/father is the head of the home (or agency, in this case). 

The agency does some life-changing work.  The year that my students partnered with the agency, their lives were changed and many chose to continue to volunteer after the project ended.

The first day I went to the agency to speak with the Executive Director, we sat in his office and chatted.  At about 3:30 in the afternoon, boys began lining up outside his office.  I wasn't sure why they were lining up outside the door and I made moves to leave, as our work had ended.  He gestured that I should stay, meet the boys, and watch how the agency operated.

Want to know how much I hate Daylight Savings Time?

I didn't think so.  But just in case:

--I'm sleepy all. the. damn. time.  I must nap, then I can't sleep at night.  It's a vicious cycle.  I want to go to bed now and it's 6:15.

 --I hate it when it gets dark at 5:30 in the AFTERNOON, as there is a tendency to want to wear pajamas when it gets dark . . . at 5:30 in the afternoon.

--I don't get nearly as much done . . . because, you know, I'm napping and wearing pajamas.  It just ruins my productivity.

--Fall does, however, bring scenes like this one.  Yes, it's a gratuitous photo from last year's Project 365.  In 11 days, I can start photographing again.

So.  I guess it's not all bad.  Click the picture to embiggen.  It's best that way.