So here we are at the last week of school for my older two. My son is wrapping up 6th grade with a picnic tomorrow and a pool party field trip on Friday. Recent highlights have included an orchestra concert for the parents (pictures to be posted soon on the family blog) and a competition at the Pride of Texas Festival in Austin, where his school's orchestra received the highest scores possible. The students were also able to play games at the festival for only the cost of the field trip, part of which was offset by the candle fundraiser earlier in the year. He tried out today for the Varsity orchestra at the Middle School, which would mean that he was in 8th grade orchestra as a 7th grader. We have hopes for next year that perhaps the Middle School curriculum will be a bit more challenging. I remain disappointed by how little writing they do. By 4th grade, I was writing book reports. In 6th grade, he has only had the most basic writing assignments, usually composed of answers to specific questions. His final book project was a powerpoint (UGH), and this was ADVANCED English. I understand why the college students' writing skills are so poor, as this is a very good school district by all accounts. He scored well on the benchmark standardized tests (UGH UGH UGH), receiving commended in Language Arts and Math, and scoring 100% correct on the reading section. This reminds me of all of the papers my honors students wrote in the fall condemning standardized tests. Moving on now. . .
Doodle had her last day of montessori preschool today. It was water day and a half day. Unfortunately, she was not in top form. She had a slight fever later in the day that I did not realize earlier. But she still seems to have had fun. The year was good for her, though punctuated by frequent illness from November through March. April was her first full month at school without missing multiple days since the fall. When she finally was able to return to school, she had many mornings when she did not want to leave me and there were tears. While I hated to see her upset, I knew that she would have a good day, and that the staff were caring and competent. It is wonderful to have her somewhere where I can trust the staff implicitly. Of course, Phelan spent 5 years there, from 4yo to 3rd grade, so I know the owner of the school and many of the teachers. I finally figured out that giving her allergy medicine at night allowed her to sleep and she was happy in the morning--no more tears. She had her end-of-the year program on Monday night, which was a treat, and the Mother's Day tea a few weeks ago, which is the nicest event of the year. Doodle will be attending the same school in the fall, even though the tuition has gone up by $100 and it is considerably more expensive than our parish child development center. Unfortunately, I am not as comfortable with the curriculum, methods, or director of the parish child development center, which is where Chiclette will be in the fall.
While Doodle attends 2 full days and 2 half days in the fall, Chiclette will be in mother's day out in our parish 2 days, from 9-2:30. I am not crazy about the idea, since I think closer to 3 years is ideal for beginning any kind of "school"/daycare situation, but it will be necessary. She will be turning 2 years in the fall, and will be in the toddler class (18-24 months), which is one of the issues I have with the parish child care center. They measure every child, from 6 weeks to Pre-K, by the ages they will be according to the public school cut off date. So Doodle would have been in the 2 year class with children a full year and more younger than her, most of whom would have been in diapers. She needed to move on, and it was an excellent decision for us (though hard in the making, as the potty training was stressful!). At Chiclette's age, I do not think it will be as crucial. And since she is over a month past the "cut off" for birthdays, the case is harder to make than with Doodle's 4 days. I do think we will end up having issues with Chiclette's birthday holding her back in school, though. . . She is able to comprehend most of what is said to her, and communicate her response in a way that can be understood, and she is only 18 months.
Next semester, I will be teaching 3 classes for the first time, so child care is a necessity for me at last. It probably would have made my life easier this semester, but I wanted to delay having her in the care of strangers and exposed to more illnesses than she was exposed to already through her sister and brother. Not to mention the behaviors of other children. I simply can not believe that unrelated children under a certain age--and that age is variable and may well be over 4--benefit from each others' company for hours on end and on consecutive days. At the very least, you might convince me that it does no harm. But I don't want to belabor the point. This semester, my sister watched both girls while I taught, but I was always conscious that she didn't want to stay much past my class, which meant that I was away from home only 3 hours at a time, twice a week. All of my work still had to be accomplished at home, which was not always ideal. At any rate, there was a lot of balancing. There will still be a lot of balancing, but perhaps a few things might make it easier. . .
We will be moving in August to a slightly smaller, considerably cheaper place. The idea was either to gain space or money in our overall budget. We will accomplish neither. What we will accomplish is having our overall budget *only* increase by $95/month, though I have added an additional child care cost and the existing tuition has increased by $100. That's pretty good, considering! The place we're moving to is closer to campus, but further away from the girls' preschools. My son will be taking the bus, which will mean one less person who needs to be dropped off & picked up. My husband may take a bus home also, as biking might not be plausible. That's still up for negotiation! My schedule does allow me to have some time during the day on my teaching days for prep & grading. I hope it works out that way. I will be stopping in the middle of the day to pick up the girls, and then resuming my teaching after my husband gets off of work, which may prove to be a challenge. Or it might keep me busy. Who knows? I'm starting to feel like I need to keep busy in order to avoid succumbing to moodiness. Not that I'm not busy now, but it's, well, different. I have too much time to brood--philosophize--whatever.
This may well be a problem this summer. Because I have distance/online classes, and only half of my accustomed salary of the past 9 months, I will not be putting the kids in any summer activities. I was lamenting earlier that today was my last half day of Chiclette-Momma only time for a while. Doodle will be in Vacation Bible School for one week, but that's the extent of our summer activity planning. I don't like outdoor summer heat (confidentially, I don't like outside--never have), but the apartment complex has a pool (which I will miss next summer), and I might be convinced to go to a park in the early-ish morning. I called a friend whom I was going to meet late in the morning at 9:30 last week, and when she remarked that it was early for me, I informed her that that hasn't been the case for 4 years now. Truly, I am not a morning person, but necessity and obscene amounts of Mystic Monk coffee are helping. I will try not to let a relaxed summer be a brooding, morose summer. My sister will be babysitting twice a week so I can get some work done, and with the flexibility of the online class, I should be able to sew and enjoy a bit of free time. I do need to try to write a bit, which always feels like somewhat of a chore. I had some ideas after the campus visit, but they were drowned out in the noise of daily/weekly/end-of-semester concerns.
I am planning a trip to New Orleans at some point, but that's as far as the planning has gotten. I will sew. I should write. I should prepare syllabi (including one for the second survey of British Lit!). First, I should order my textbooks for the fall. . . I will grade, though I'm not sure how much conventional teaching I will be doing. I hope not to think about the job market, though I may be applying for another job or two in the next week or two, as a few have appeared. And finally, we will pack.
I will be updating my family blog more often, for those interested. I have discovered a feature that allows me to email posts to my blog, which allows for a much easier upload of image files. That was the obstacle that was most formidable to my keeping that blog up to date. I can't email images and words, or the images to not show up, so I email the pics and add the narration after. That makes for shorter narration, but again, that might be a good thing.
I know that my writing on this blog is not what it once was. I may still have the occasional weighty post--especially with the email feature enabled. But I have moved a bit away from the semi-essay format, at least for now. But it's comforting to know that a blog is, essentially, wherever you are at a given moment. I'm hoping that I will take an academic turn soon and bring the blog along for the ride.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
After the Fallout
Things are settling down here. The semester has ended. Grades are due soon, but I only have final papers to evaluate, which tends to be easier than the papers during the semester, both because the quality is often better and because I don't have to make the extensive comments that I make on earlier papers, since most of the final papers will never be seen or retrieved by students. The children's schools will be winding down also. My son is looking forward to an orchestra competition out-of-town at a festival next Monday, and has his end-of-the-year concert tonight, in which he performs the solo! He had to try out for it, so we are very proud. Doodle is also practicing for an end-of-the-year program, and we had our "Mother's Day Tea" at her school last Friday. It was so neat having her serve me tea just as my son had done for years while he was at the same school. I wish I could send all of them there, but the job search won't permit. We are still looking for housing for the fall--ideally cheaper housing than what we currently have. It's a challenge, but we have some viewings lined up for Saturday, so we'll see. . .
I am recovering from the stress of two weeks ago. I had the dreaded meeting with the advisor, but it was not so bad. Instead, what I think has happened is that he has realized that I do indeed need help with this whole process. I was told that he will work with me on the answers to some anticipated questions to help me to better survive interviews. I had started thinking of some of this anyway, but my preparation may have been off. The random nature of the interview process leaves me very insecure, and I don't take comfort from the fact that it's like this for everyone. I think of myself as someone who thinks well on her feet and can communicate effectively, but I feel like I can't be completely honest in answering or I will jeopardize my chances of getting hired. That is singularly uncomfortable for me. If I conceal my thoughts about something, I feel like I'm being hypocritical and dishonest. I probably come across as smug or judgmental, too (imagine that). Because really, I'm judging them as much as they are judging me--that's too much judging for someone like me. But maybe if I'm not in the kind of "fog" that I was in last time, I will be able to think of responses that work. *sigh*
I have come to realize the depth of my insecurity. I think it has been building during all of the years I was away from coursework. It perhaps had its seeds in coursework, as I realized how different, and in many ways, agenda-driven, most of the scholarship in my field was from what I had imagined myself doing, and tried to fit myself into it. I developed a defensiveness, realizing that I would be judged according to the fact that I was not doing what others were doing. But I have not ever seen literature as a vehicle for social change, and I did not use it to critique society or to lobby for a more enlightened existence. I wonder--had my undergraduate courses been more overwhelmingly political, would I be here now? But I had professors who were contentedly thematic or New Critical in their approaches. Or even subtly New Historicist. I can't think of any who were overtly feminist--and this includes the lesbian poet who once tried to teach me to dance in a bar in New Orleans. I realize that even those professors--one art historian comes to mind--who tried to adopt a feminist perspective failed miserably by most standards, and I was allowed to write a paper refuting the agenda of Eva Keuls' Reign of the Phallus (but not refuting its research, which I found fascinating) in my freshman honors seminar. In those days, I didn't even like literature that was overtly political--Animal Farm, for example--because that's not what I was looking for in literature. Now I adore dystopia, so that has changed drastically, but I'm all about the context of the work. Though I do admit that I see an enduring message in many of the dystopian works I teach! So I was not out of line with my undergraduate professors, who preferred to teach interpretation rather than theory, and who did not structure their courses thematically to promote certain ideologies or worldviews or whatever. Would it shock you to know that I never read "The Yellow Wallpaper" in an undergraduate course? I did read The Awakening in high school, and utterly rejected it. I believe I had to read it again in an American Lit course, but I probably did not repeat the task. And I didn't like Emily Dickenson.
In graduate school, things changed radically. The goal of papers was completely different, and left me rather befuddled as I tried to figure out what, if anything, I had that was worthy according to the different standards I was confronting. My papers were (predictably, perhaps) reactionary. I proposed "different" ways of looking at feminist issues, focused on areas that were less politically charged (to me), and rejected Marxism except in the rare cases when it seemed to fit the author's own agenda. But I became dismayed by it all. Some of the versions of Marxism I encountered in guest speakers, etc., impressed me by their absolute futility, and the selections of texts in my graduate seminars were often uninteresting to me. I have a very short list of courses that I enjoyed, and even fewer texts that inspired me. And then there was the teaching. When I taught literature, I had a considerable amount of freedom, except the limitations imposed by the Intro to Lit anthologies. (Would it surprise you to know that I have never taught "The Yellow Wallpaper"?) In an era when any designated "greatness" of literature is considered suspect, the question of how to introduce literature to non-majors becomes complicated. And as far as I can tell, it comes down to introducing ways of viewing the world, reshaping the way students view the world by introducing, celebrating, or promoting certain perspectives, or using literature to try to make sense of life experiences, which some anthologies do try to do even though this is kind of a universalizing impulse. My problem with both approaches is that presenting literature with such specific purposes imposes a way of reading on the text. This limits the potential for discovery of meaning. I do not believe that there are infinite ways to read a text, but I also do not believe that the critics always have it right. That's why my interpretations of texts in my dissertation are not linked in any way to the criticism of the authors whom I study. That's probably why one of my committee members wrote so many little X's in the margins, though he seemed to like the overall dissertation. I do believe that the greatest literature is universal in a sense, in that it taps into the things that are common to humanity. And I do not think that the idea that there are things common to humanity contradicts the singularity of individual experience. But I'm a very empathetic person, and a very empathetic reader, so perhaps this desire to get inside others' heads and understand them makes me see the question of universality a bit differently. I want to see how we as individuals connect while understanding the differences that we face as individuals or as members of different communities. If there is no universal connection, then literature is pretty much meaningless.
Which I guess brings me to another breaking point of sorts with my discipline. Because I believe in a some kind of universal human experience, albeit mediated by particular circumstances, I think that there is inherent value in reading to seek those connections, to find ourselves in others, to find others in ourselves, and by evaluating ourselves and our experiences through reading, to grow as fully realized individuals. This is very outdated. But I feel that in order to function in a community, which is where the emphasis is these days in teaching and studying literature, we have to know who we are, and that's a complex question. I can't teach this, and I don't try. But I also don't try to stress difference to the point that it annihilates the self. I don't want to change anyone's worldview, but I do want to help students to put their worldview in perspective, and I think literature has infinite potential to give individuals perspective, as long as they are open to it and recognize it for what it is, and in order to accomplish this, we need to be non-threatening, by which I don't mean subtly subverting their worldview while pretending to be sympathetic. Not at all.
So I didn't really come into this profession to introduce or promote certain ideas, though I have dabbled in and do enjoy ecocriticism and postcolonialism. I don't think that by teaching certain texts in certain ways, that I stand to improve anyone's social condition. And I'm not terribly invested in the idea that everyone needs to tolerate everyone else's beliefs and ideas to the suppression of one's own, because that doesn't lead to understanding of any kind. And frankly, there are a lot of things I'm not interested in talking about with students. And wouldn't you know? Every one of them is represented in the standard composition text. And typically, they are represented in such a way that it is clear what the authors of the book want the student to think. In teaching argument, the arguments presented make a case for a certain worldview. And the students sometimes accept it without opposition, because the claims are so persuasive. Or they get mad because their opinions differ and they don't know how to articulate them. Now, a lot depends on the student and how the materials is presented, but I'm just not interested in negotiating any of this. Perhaps the issue is that while I can find universal experience in art, I can not find any evidence of that same interconnectedness in the diatribes that litter composition texts. So there's no room for sympathy or empathy, and there's no art. Granted, there is some clever use of language, which I can appreciate, but that is not the same as art, because art has an element of beauty or at least awe. Art evokes rather than stating, which is why popular music is not art these days! So this is why teaching comp and resolving to find a job in comp represents such a defeat for me.
And really, friends, I have felt disillusioned for so long, and read so many bleak accounts of the "realities" of the academic job market, and the promotion and tenure process, that the sense of futility has been overwhelming at times. The fact that I did not quit one of the many times I considered doing so is a small miracle. So perhaps I have something to do here before it is all over? Perhaps. I don't know.
But I entered into this meditation because I have been told twice by professors recently--my advisor and then my direct supervisor in Writing Programs--that I needed to work on my self-confidence. Now, when I was in high school, people didn't think I was self-confident, because I had some self-doubt, and some social insecurity. But that didn't mean that I didn't think I was at least as good as the people around me, I just didn't think anyone else was likely to recognize it in any kind of meaningful way. I guess not much has changed. But I felt pretty confident in coursework, and I have always felt that I could at least accomplish whatever I put my mind to. I'm not so sure about that anymore, though I did write what one friend of mine calls "the big book report" (which mine was *not*). I wonder if that is because I don't have sufficient relish for the task before me? And I can't imagine what circumstances could help me regain that relish. So perhaps the problem is that I am unsure of whether I want to put my mind to the task before me. Is that the same as a lack of self confidence? I'm not so sure. But it doesn't matter if I relish the task before me or not. At this point, my options are severely limited, and feeling like I don't have a choice motivates me to inaction--a choice in itself, no?
I am recovering from the stress of two weeks ago. I had the dreaded meeting with the advisor, but it was not so bad. Instead, what I think has happened is that he has realized that I do indeed need help with this whole process. I was told that he will work with me on the answers to some anticipated questions to help me to better survive interviews. I had started thinking of some of this anyway, but my preparation may have been off. The random nature of the interview process leaves me very insecure, and I don't take comfort from the fact that it's like this for everyone. I think of myself as someone who thinks well on her feet and can communicate effectively, but I feel like I can't be completely honest in answering or I will jeopardize my chances of getting hired. That is singularly uncomfortable for me. If I conceal my thoughts about something, I feel like I'm being hypocritical and dishonest. I probably come across as smug or judgmental, too (imagine that). Because really, I'm judging them as much as they are judging me--that's too much judging for someone like me. But maybe if I'm not in the kind of "fog" that I was in last time, I will be able to think of responses that work. *sigh*
I have come to realize the depth of my insecurity. I think it has been building during all of the years I was away from coursework. It perhaps had its seeds in coursework, as I realized how different, and in many ways, agenda-driven, most of the scholarship in my field was from what I had imagined myself doing, and tried to fit myself into it. I developed a defensiveness, realizing that I would be judged according to the fact that I was not doing what others were doing. But I have not ever seen literature as a vehicle for social change, and I did not use it to critique society or to lobby for a more enlightened existence. I wonder--had my undergraduate courses been more overwhelmingly political, would I be here now? But I had professors who were contentedly thematic or New Critical in their approaches. Or even subtly New Historicist. I can't think of any who were overtly feminist--and this includes the lesbian poet who once tried to teach me to dance in a bar in New Orleans. I realize that even those professors--one art historian comes to mind--who tried to adopt a feminist perspective failed miserably by most standards, and I was allowed to write a paper refuting the agenda of Eva Keuls' Reign of the Phallus (but not refuting its research, which I found fascinating) in my freshman honors seminar. In those days, I didn't even like literature that was overtly political--Animal Farm, for example--because that's not what I was looking for in literature. Now I adore dystopia, so that has changed drastically, but I'm all about the context of the work. Though I do admit that I see an enduring message in many of the dystopian works I teach! So I was not out of line with my undergraduate professors, who preferred to teach interpretation rather than theory, and who did not structure their courses thematically to promote certain ideologies or worldviews or whatever. Would it shock you to know that I never read "The Yellow Wallpaper" in an undergraduate course? I did read The Awakening in high school, and utterly rejected it. I believe I had to read it again in an American Lit course, but I probably did not repeat the task. And I didn't like Emily Dickenson.
In graduate school, things changed radically. The goal of papers was completely different, and left me rather befuddled as I tried to figure out what, if anything, I had that was worthy according to the different standards I was confronting. My papers were (predictably, perhaps) reactionary. I proposed "different" ways of looking at feminist issues, focused on areas that were less politically charged (to me), and rejected Marxism except in the rare cases when it seemed to fit the author's own agenda. But I became dismayed by it all. Some of the versions of Marxism I encountered in guest speakers, etc., impressed me by their absolute futility, and the selections of texts in my graduate seminars were often uninteresting to me. I have a very short list of courses that I enjoyed, and even fewer texts that inspired me. And then there was the teaching. When I taught literature, I had a considerable amount of freedom, except the limitations imposed by the Intro to Lit anthologies. (Would it surprise you to know that I have never taught "The Yellow Wallpaper"?) In an era when any designated "greatness" of literature is considered suspect, the question of how to introduce literature to non-majors becomes complicated. And as far as I can tell, it comes down to introducing ways of viewing the world, reshaping the way students view the world by introducing, celebrating, or promoting certain perspectives, or using literature to try to make sense of life experiences, which some anthologies do try to do even though this is kind of a universalizing impulse. My problem with both approaches is that presenting literature with such specific purposes imposes a way of reading on the text. This limits the potential for discovery of meaning. I do not believe that there are infinite ways to read a text, but I also do not believe that the critics always have it right. That's why my interpretations of texts in my dissertation are not linked in any way to the criticism of the authors whom I study. That's probably why one of my committee members wrote so many little X's in the margins, though he seemed to like the overall dissertation. I do believe that the greatest literature is universal in a sense, in that it taps into the things that are common to humanity. And I do not think that the idea that there are things common to humanity contradicts the singularity of individual experience. But I'm a very empathetic person, and a very empathetic reader, so perhaps this desire to get inside others' heads and understand them makes me see the question of universality a bit differently. I want to see how we as individuals connect while understanding the differences that we face as individuals or as members of different communities. If there is no universal connection, then literature is pretty much meaningless.
Which I guess brings me to another breaking point of sorts with my discipline. Because I believe in a some kind of universal human experience, albeit mediated by particular circumstances, I think that there is inherent value in reading to seek those connections, to find ourselves in others, to find others in ourselves, and by evaluating ourselves and our experiences through reading, to grow as fully realized individuals. This is very outdated. But I feel that in order to function in a community, which is where the emphasis is these days in teaching and studying literature, we have to know who we are, and that's a complex question. I can't teach this, and I don't try. But I also don't try to stress difference to the point that it annihilates the self. I don't want to change anyone's worldview, but I do want to help students to put their worldview in perspective, and I think literature has infinite potential to give individuals perspective, as long as they are open to it and recognize it for what it is, and in order to accomplish this, we need to be non-threatening, by which I don't mean subtly subverting their worldview while pretending to be sympathetic. Not at all.
So I didn't really come into this profession to introduce or promote certain ideas, though I have dabbled in and do enjoy ecocriticism and postcolonialism. I don't think that by teaching certain texts in certain ways, that I stand to improve anyone's social condition. And I'm not terribly invested in the idea that everyone needs to tolerate everyone else's beliefs and ideas to the suppression of one's own, because that doesn't lead to understanding of any kind. And frankly, there are a lot of things I'm not interested in talking about with students. And wouldn't you know? Every one of them is represented in the standard composition text. And typically, they are represented in such a way that it is clear what the authors of the book want the student to think. In teaching argument, the arguments presented make a case for a certain worldview. And the students sometimes accept it without opposition, because the claims are so persuasive. Or they get mad because their opinions differ and they don't know how to articulate them. Now, a lot depends on the student and how the materials is presented, but I'm just not interested in negotiating any of this. Perhaps the issue is that while I can find universal experience in art, I can not find any evidence of that same interconnectedness in the diatribes that litter composition texts. So there's no room for sympathy or empathy, and there's no art. Granted, there is some clever use of language, which I can appreciate, but that is not the same as art, because art has an element of beauty or at least awe. Art evokes rather than stating, which is why popular music is not art these days! So this is why teaching comp and resolving to find a job in comp represents such a defeat for me.
And really, friends, I have felt disillusioned for so long, and read so many bleak accounts of the "realities" of the academic job market, and the promotion and tenure process, that the sense of futility has been overwhelming at times. The fact that I did not quit one of the many times I considered doing so is a small miracle. So perhaps I have something to do here before it is all over? Perhaps. I don't know.
But I entered into this meditation because I have been told twice by professors recently--my advisor and then my direct supervisor in Writing Programs--that I needed to work on my self-confidence. Now, when I was in high school, people didn't think I was self-confident, because I had some self-doubt, and some social insecurity. But that didn't mean that I didn't think I was at least as good as the people around me, I just didn't think anyone else was likely to recognize it in any kind of meaningful way. I guess not much has changed. But I felt pretty confident in coursework, and I have always felt that I could at least accomplish whatever I put my mind to. I'm not so sure about that anymore, though I did write what one friend of mine calls "the big book report" (which mine was *not*). I wonder if that is because I don't have sufficient relish for the task before me? And I can't imagine what circumstances could help me regain that relish. So perhaps the problem is that I am unsure of whether I want to put my mind to the task before me. Is that the same as a lack of self confidence? I'm not so sure. But it doesn't matter if I relish the task before me or not. At this point, my options are severely limited, and feeling like I don't have a choice motivates me to inaction--a choice in itself, no?
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Past Year's Postdoc--and its aftermath
I tend to think big when I think of blog posts, which is why they're not coming as frequently as they used to. When I have something that I consider "bloggable," it ends up being not only voluminous, but also an emotional journey of sorts. Lately, rather than commit to the time it is going to take to write down the thoughts, I tend to push them aside, add a quip to Facebook, and go on. But some things can't be contained in a quip, and I'm committed in a way to working out professional issues here--insofar as I can do so. I have been thinking a lot about the past year, first because I was feeling better about my prospects and potential for really following through with getting a tenure-track position and all it entails, now because I am feeling like I'm caught in a downward spiral and wonder where it all went wrong.
For the past year, my position has been a hybrid one. I have had an administrative position of sorts, in Writing Programs, which means working with composition in various ways, and then a teaching load of 2-1. I was approached about this position last Spring by my adviser, who know that he can pretty much talk me into anything. I believe that's what he meant by "versatile" in my letters of recommendation. I may be bitter about this, but I don't want to seem like I blame him, really. He has a number of factors to consider, including the needs of the department and what he considers my best interest in terms of landing a tenure-track job. So he casts it as something that I have been specially selected for because of my ability and something that will help me out because I will not have to spend as many hours actually on campus (a real concern with a baby who was only 6 months or so at the time the assignment was awarded, and who would not yet be a year by the time the appointment began). And I fell for it. I was also coming off of what was supposed to be a similar task, revising a syllabus, or rather, making the syllabus appear to have been revised--but that's another story. So anyway, it didn't sound too bad, and since I was really burned out and just needed a job, I didn't really care.
I started to care, though, when I started thinking about the job market. After I actually had the degree in hand, things started seeming possible. Why shouldn't I get a job teaching literature, I wondered. And what have I done all of this work for if it doesn't mean that I can do something I enjoy? If I have to have a 4-4 load of composition, why didn't I stop with a Master's degree? There were other considerations. I was convinced to agree to a 2-course load in the fall, because the initial job search was easy--just write a perfect letter and a perfect teaching philosophy and send them out! In the spring is when I would have to worry about campus visits, and it is easier to get one course covered by a substitute rather than two. Hah!! Also, because I would be working with composition as "Inquiry," I would have to teach composition. With a new syllabus. To honors students, no doubt. I was originally to be given the Intro to Lit also, which made me very depressed because those were the two courses I had had over, and over, and over, and the point of a postdoc, in part, is to give the recent graduates teaching opportunities in their field. Well, the assistant department head agreed that there was no use putting me in two courses I had already had, so I was placed in Children's Lit, which I had taught with some success in the summer--big mistake, but I didn't find that out until later, and I am only now finding out how bad a mistake that was.
Meanwhile, my Intro-to-Lit-as-Inquiry project was being handed over to someone else at the "assessment" stage. With my Intro to Lit course taken away from me, I was not to be involved at all, and I would be given someone else's pet project, the composition. Working on something I didn't like that I was not really involved with revising was not my cup of tea. For me to be able to work on something, I really have to feel like I'm intellectually or otherwise invested in it in some way--a failing, perhaps, and one that does not suit me for administration! At the same time, I was realizing the dread that I had for administration, and not wanting to be pigeonholed into Writing Programs. But although I had been told that if I had any reservations, I should let my advisor (and department head) know, I wasn't quite sure I could back out at that point.
I should probably mention here that my first encounter with said advisor was one in which I was accused of "not behaving in the spirit of graduate study" because I was "unwilling to learn from any position in which I was placed." I would LOVE to have seen some of the graduate students who came AFTER me told any such thing! It wouldn't have happened. Why was I told this? Because I was assigned to grade for two of the most high-maintenance people who taught large section classes while I have been in this department--and he knew it. Also because I tried to transfer out of a "Feminism and Postmodernism" class that I registered for under "Women in Literature." So I should probably note that for the past 8 years, I felt that my job was to demonstrate that I could do what was asked of me. On a level, it broke my spirit and squelched my creativity. It was an exercise of thinking within the box, or at least, being boxed back up when I tried to think big. Especially when I agreed to stay for the Ph.D. But that's another story.
So because I wasn't comfortable backing out, I spoke to the placement coordinator, specifically about how I kind of felt trapped in this assignment, I knew I was being groomed for Writing Programs, and I didn't want to be. Her advice was that a postdoc is a "little gift from Heaven" (I have the uncomfortable gift of a memory for exact phrasing) and that I should essentially be thankful and take it.
It's hard to describe the implications of the decision to take that advice. But let me say that when I teach, I am aware of what needs to be accomplished when, and I don't really answer to anyone else for my pacing, etc.--except the students. Not so in administration, besides that there is no concrete reason why this or that thing should be accomplished before the other thing over there. So I constantly felt like I couldn't prioritize because everything was pretty much stupid and pointless, except the things I needed to do for my classes, which had to come first. Oh, and the job search, because that had deadlines. It is a terrible feeling to know that there are things that people expect you to be doing, that you have tasks waiting to be completed regardless of what urgently needs to be done now. I always felt like I shoudl be doing something other than what I was doing, which made me miserable. Since most of this was accomplished at home, I felt like work overshadowed all of my interactions with my family. And then, I was probably very anemic, which accounts for the periods when all I could do was sit in front of my computer and click...click...click.... And then there were the grad students in the office, who I'm sure resented me for not having to track hours, for seeming to get little accomplished, and whose work was always infinitely better than mine. Then there was the small matter I raised of whether it was appropriate for us to use abortion as an example on department sanctioned materials, especially when the material in question assumed the enlightened nature of the pro-choice position over pro-life.
Anyway, I was never "in the loop," always feeling lost, always feeling like I was shirking some important duty, and when I had something to say, no one wanted to hear. I had things piled on that I didn't feel qualified to do or able to handle with the constraints I had, though luckily the grad students were willing to take on some things that I didn't feel able to do. Then there were those classes. The honors students got along fine, but my children's lit education majors HATED me--and said so, apparently. I was too demoralized after the semester was over to look at course evaluations. But I must say--for the most part, the feeling was mutual. One student emailed me after the semester was over (yes, after grades were posted) to express her enjoyment of the class, and tell me how much she had learned and how what I taught was relevant to literary study (as opposed to whatever education classes do). She wanted me to end the class on a positive note, since the other students were so uninvolved & hostile. She was one of the few English majors I have EVER taught in my 8 or so years of teaching. So when the search committees ask me how I would teach this or that to English majors, my mental response is, "How the hell would I know?"
So here we come to the end of the term of the postdoc. My students this semester do not hate me, but I have been obliged, because of illness and travel, to miss more than I would have liked. I set up appointments with them at the end, as I think I mentioned, to try to make some fast progress--and I think it worked. Now I just need to grade the papers. The ones who showed me drafts after our meetings looked like they had improved greatly. Last week I had that assessment project for comp to analyze, a report to write, and a presentation to make. All done. We have accomplished very little in terms of making the course "Inquiry," which to me is not a surprise because what we were doing was whitewashing the course rather than working from the inside out. We pile more "stuff" on--more than anyone can accomplish--change the wording and call it done--ummmmm. . . no. Well, I still haven't received anything from the person I worked for to say it was well done. Luckily, I did receive some indication that I had done a good job from a higher up--or I would feel REALLY dejected. I agonized over the project and had no real guidance, but I worked my butt off at the end and got it done--as I usually do. Some time in the middle of the most stressful period of analyzing data, writing a report, and grading papers, I was asked to make an appointment to speak to the assistant department head about my possibilities for next year, including the possibility that I had a job offer. I wondered by what stretch of the imagination anyone thought I would have a job offer, since I pretty much said that I wasn't going to, but that's another story. Immediately after the presentation, I had the meeting.
I was given, apparently, the same spiel that everyone has had. We're letting lecturers go. We're looking after our postdocs. We're $250,000 short in our budget this year. We're opting to run a more expensive department so we can take care of the 8 newbies and the 4 people who we still have kicking around because they didn't get jobs this year. You've had your golden opportunity for us to help you develop your teaching areas, so you get comp next year, no chance of renewal after next year, and oh by the way, you need to publish and your evals sucked from the children's lit course.
Okay, some of this I was prepared for. I was not prepared to have the course from hell thrown back in my face. It took me 2 days to recall the full misery of that course because I had so completely blocked it out. I had nothing to answer for that accusation. They hated me. Yes. I know. Later, I remembered why--I tried to make them think and not intuit fuzzy classroom interaction possibilities. And then there was the implication that I got my chance to be special. I had my opportunity to teach my subject field. Ummmmm. . . No. No I didn't. I got stuck in a crummy position that I didn't want that they needed to fill. I was being groomed and didn't want to be. And I didn't feel like I could say so directly. Except that I did say some of it. And, "Oh, so we prepared you for a job you don't want?" "Pretty much, yes." "Oh, sorry." And there it stayed.
I'm forgetting another facet of the story, in which I intervened in a trashing-the-undergrads-fest on Facebook, which of course was only a joke. A violent, bigoted joke. I defended a student I did not know--and by extension the dignity of all students--and then, by the way, found out how badly my own students from the fall had trashed me. And they were education majors, and prone to the kind of attitude that children need to be filled with life issues so they can be programmed to think correctly--just the kind of attitude that I was fighting in my son's education and in my encounter with FB. But that's all I can say about that. It was horrible. Even people who don't accept my view of things would agree that it was horrible. It represented a serious disrespect for the common dignity of students. I was appalled, and very emotionally involved. I don't compartmentalize well. This series of events happened beginning the Friday before the report presentation, which was a Wednesday.
Well, the next day, my class turned in their papers and completed evals. But before the class, I walked into the office where I needed to turn in materials related to the assessment. I was hoping to fish for a "job well done," but nothing was forthcoming. I waled into the office of a colleague to say hello, was asked how I was doing, and realized that I was going to have a breakdown right on the spot. There was nothing I could focus on to keep from crying, and so I said, "I'm about to have a complete nervous breakdown, apparently," and was told to sit and I pretty much spilled most of the job-related things that I have related here. There was the added pressure that my advisor/dept head thought he had found an admin position that he wanted me to apply for. Thankfully, the search was postponed.
That morning, I had left the house on my normal "bringing people to school and work" routine. I went to the grocery store and came back with $200 in groceries, including 4 bottles of wine. Now, we just don't drink that much wine--or any alcohol, really. I almost bought 6 when I remembered that I could get a 10% discount. I picked up my sister and made jokes about cracking one open for breakfast instead of eating, since I wasn't really hungry. I got things together and went to campus. I thought I was o.k., if a little moody. I thought I had decided to pursue a nonacademic career in writing or publishing. I still like the idea of writing, but I'm not happy with the lack of stability--everyone's a writer, it seems. I spent much of the previous night looking at such jobs and coming to terms with that decision. Why should I want to deal with students, I wondered? It's pretty thankless, after all. And my fate rests in their hands to a large degree, both in terms of evaluations and classroom dynamic. And for what? Do they really learn from me? I was feeling like a poor researcher, and a poor teacher, and a poor mother to boot, but I knew one thing--I'm a good writer. And writing comes easy to me. So writing what people tell me to write shouldn't be so bad. Unless it involves analyzing data. And even then. . .
So I showed up late and a little bleary-eyed for my class, and if they noticed, I don't know. They were very upbeat and very nice. I was to meet someone after picking up the papers, but she couldn't make it and cancelled. So I was sitting, recovered, or so I thought, and my advisor approached me. I'm not even going to go into the weirdness of the relationship, but it fluctuates between friend, professional authority figure, and authoritative male family member. He would probably be hurt if he knew I didn't include "colleague," which probably also adds to the weirdness of it. So he came up suddenly and sat next to me. I clapped my computer shut. And he said we needed to talk. Great, cause I needed a lecture. Not now, but maybe this afternoon? Or make an appointment? Great, so I can get an "official" lecture. About "whether[I] want a job, and what kind of job [I] want." Well, I don't want Writing Programs Administration. I told him I would be dead of a heart attack before 40 if I took such a job. Blah blah blah talents, blah blah blah opportunities I've been given. And then, what kind of a condescending, unprofessional move is it to tell me as I'm trying to recover from the emotional implications of the week from hell that I look like my 12-year-old son when I make an expression like that????? No, thank you very much. HE looks like ME!! I wish I would have thought to say so. Eventually, I had to leave the building to avoid being seen, but not before I walked past the assistant department head and was offered a hug by a friend.
Believe me, had I been able to get a job and out of this department without compromising my integrity, I would have done so. As it was, I didn't even have the opportunity to compromise my integrity.
I think I am back to imagining myself in academia, but I do wonder why. Mostly, I think, because I don't know how to search for a writing job, or because I don't want to settle for an entry-level salary, or because only an academic job search offers sufficient security (possibly) to justify a move across country (or wherever).
So I'm all set for to be lectured on Tuesday (or whenever). This is the only professional support I am to expect from my adviser, since any questions I might have, I should (apparently) know already, and all I receive is a one line response generally. I might still try to get a panel proposal together on Wednesday for a conference next Spring.
I had some conclusions about how to proceed with the job search, but they're about personal integrity rather than selling my soul, so I guess they're irrelevant at this point. I fluctuate between hope and despair, when presumably the correct attitude is stoic resolution masked by false enthusiasm.
So yeah, I have no idea where to go from here. Except to find someplace to live that is cheap enough to allow me to put my youngest in mother's day out 3x a week, and to allow me to spend too much to go to the big meat market for the language professions where all good postdocs go if they want to get jobs. My advisor and my mom would most likely tell me I'm being too negative. But my mom wouldn't say it these days, because she understands my frustrations, so that's apparently why I have an advisor.
For the past year, my position has been a hybrid one. I have had an administrative position of sorts, in Writing Programs, which means working with composition in various ways, and then a teaching load of 2-1. I was approached about this position last Spring by my adviser, who know that he can pretty much talk me into anything. I believe that's what he meant by "versatile" in my letters of recommendation. I may be bitter about this, but I don't want to seem like I blame him, really. He has a number of factors to consider, including the needs of the department and what he considers my best interest in terms of landing a tenure-track job. So he casts it as something that I have been specially selected for because of my ability and something that will help me out because I will not have to spend as many hours actually on campus (a real concern with a baby who was only 6 months or so at the time the assignment was awarded, and who would not yet be a year by the time the appointment began). And I fell for it. I was also coming off of what was supposed to be a similar task, revising a syllabus, or rather, making the syllabus appear to have been revised--but that's another story. So anyway, it didn't sound too bad, and since I was really burned out and just needed a job, I didn't really care.
I started to care, though, when I started thinking about the job market. After I actually had the degree in hand, things started seeming possible. Why shouldn't I get a job teaching literature, I wondered. And what have I done all of this work for if it doesn't mean that I can do something I enjoy? If I have to have a 4-4 load of composition, why didn't I stop with a Master's degree? There were other considerations. I was convinced to agree to a 2-course load in the fall, because the initial job search was easy--just write a perfect letter and a perfect teaching philosophy and send them out! In the spring is when I would have to worry about campus visits, and it is easier to get one course covered by a substitute rather than two. Hah!! Also, because I would be working with composition as "Inquiry," I would have to teach composition. With a new syllabus. To honors students, no doubt. I was originally to be given the Intro to Lit also, which made me very depressed because those were the two courses I had had over, and over, and over, and the point of a postdoc, in part, is to give the recent graduates teaching opportunities in their field. Well, the assistant department head agreed that there was no use putting me in two courses I had already had, so I was placed in Children's Lit, which I had taught with some success in the summer--big mistake, but I didn't find that out until later, and I am only now finding out how bad a mistake that was.
Meanwhile, my Intro-to-Lit-as-Inquiry project was being handed over to someone else at the "assessment" stage. With my Intro to Lit course taken away from me, I was not to be involved at all, and I would be given someone else's pet project, the composition. Working on something I didn't like that I was not really involved with revising was not my cup of tea. For me to be able to work on something, I really have to feel like I'm intellectually or otherwise invested in it in some way--a failing, perhaps, and one that does not suit me for administration! At the same time, I was realizing the dread that I had for administration, and not wanting to be pigeonholed into Writing Programs. But although I had been told that if I had any reservations, I should let my advisor (and department head) know, I wasn't quite sure I could back out at that point.
I should probably mention here that my first encounter with said advisor was one in which I was accused of "not behaving in the spirit of graduate study" because I was "unwilling to learn from any position in which I was placed." I would LOVE to have seen some of the graduate students who came AFTER me told any such thing! It wouldn't have happened. Why was I told this? Because I was assigned to grade for two of the most high-maintenance people who taught large section classes while I have been in this department--and he knew it. Also because I tried to transfer out of a "Feminism and Postmodernism" class that I registered for under "Women in Literature." So I should probably note that for the past 8 years, I felt that my job was to demonstrate that I could do what was asked of me. On a level, it broke my spirit and squelched my creativity. It was an exercise of thinking within the box, or at least, being boxed back up when I tried to think big. Especially when I agreed to stay for the Ph.D. But that's another story.
So because I wasn't comfortable backing out, I spoke to the placement coordinator, specifically about how I kind of felt trapped in this assignment, I knew I was being groomed for Writing Programs, and I didn't want to be. Her advice was that a postdoc is a "little gift from Heaven" (I have the uncomfortable gift of a memory for exact phrasing) and that I should essentially be thankful and take it.
It's hard to describe the implications of the decision to take that advice. But let me say that when I teach, I am aware of what needs to be accomplished when, and I don't really answer to anyone else for my pacing, etc.--except the students. Not so in administration, besides that there is no concrete reason why this or that thing should be accomplished before the other thing over there. So I constantly felt like I couldn't prioritize because everything was pretty much stupid and pointless, except the things I needed to do for my classes, which had to come first. Oh, and the job search, because that had deadlines. It is a terrible feeling to know that there are things that people expect you to be doing, that you have tasks waiting to be completed regardless of what urgently needs to be done now. I always felt like I shoudl be doing something other than what I was doing, which made me miserable. Since most of this was accomplished at home, I felt like work overshadowed all of my interactions with my family. And then, I was probably very anemic, which accounts for the periods when all I could do was sit in front of my computer and click...click...click.... And then there were the grad students in the office, who I'm sure resented me for not having to track hours, for seeming to get little accomplished, and whose work was always infinitely better than mine. Then there was the small matter I raised of whether it was appropriate for us to use abortion as an example on department sanctioned materials, especially when the material in question assumed the enlightened nature of the pro-choice position over pro-life.
Anyway, I was never "in the loop," always feeling lost, always feeling like I was shirking some important duty, and when I had something to say, no one wanted to hear. I had things piled on that I didn't feel qualified to do or able to handle with the constraints I had, though luckily the grad students were willing to take on some things that I didn't feel able to do. Then there were those classes. The honors students got along fine, but my children's lit education majors HATED me--and said so, apparently. I was too demoralized after the semester was over to look at course evaluations. But I must say--for the most part, the feeling was mutual. One student emailed me after the semester was over (yes, after grades were posted) to express her enjoyment of the class, and tell me how much she had learned and how what I taught was relevant to literary study (as opposed to whatever education classes do). She wanted me to end the class on a positive note, since the other students were so uninvolved & hostile. She was one of the few English majors I have EVER taught in my 8 or so years of teaching. So when the search committees ask me how I would teach this or that to English majors, my mental response is, "How the hell would I know?"
So here we come to the end of the term of the postdoc. My students this semester do not hate me, but I have been obliged, because of illness and travel, to miss more than I would have liked. I set up appointments with them at the end, as I think I mentioned, to try to make some fast progress--and I think it worked. Now I just need to grade the papers. The ones who showed me drafts after our meetings looked like they had improved greatly. Last week I had that assessment project for comp to analyze, a report to write, and a presentation to make. All done. We have accomplished very little in terms of making the course "Inquiry," which to me is not a surprise because what we were doing was whitewashing the course rather than working from the inside out. We pile more "stuff" on--more than anyone can accomplish--change the wording and call it done--ummmmm. . . no. Well, I still haven't received anything from the person I worked for to say it was well done. Luckily, I did receive some indication that I had done a good job from a higher up--or I would feel REALLY dejected. I agonized over the project and had no real guidance, but I worked my butt off at the end and got it done--as I usually do. Some time in the middle of the most stressful period of analyzing data, writing a report, and grading papers, I was asked to make an appointment to speak to the assistant department head about my possibilities for next year, including the possibility that I had a job offer. I wondered by what stretch of the imagination anyone thought I would have a job offer, since I pretty much said that I wasn't going to, but that's another story. Immediately after the presentation, I had the meeting.
I was given, apparently, the same spiel that everyone has had. We're letting lecturers go. We're looking after our postdocs. We're $250,000 short in our budget this year. We're opting to run a more expensive department so we can take care of the 8 newbies and the 4 people who we still have kicking around because they didn't get jobs this year. You've had your golden opportunity for us to help you develop your teaching areas, so you get comp next year, no chance of renewal after next year, and oh by the way, you need to publish and your evals sucked from the children's lit course.
Okay, some of this I was prepared for. I was not prepared to have the course from hell thrown back in my face. It took me 2 days to recall the full misery of that course because I had so completely blocked it out. I had nothing to answer for that accusation. They hated me. Yes. I know. Later, I remembered why--I tried to make them think and not intuit fuzzy classroom interaction possibilities. And then there was the implication that I got my chance to be special. I had my opportunity to teach my subject field. Ummmmm. . . No. No I didn't. I got stuck in a crummy position that I didn't want that they needed to fill. I was being groomed and didn't want to be. And I didn't feel like I could say so directly. Except that I did say some of it. And, "Oh, so we prepared you for a job you don't want?" "Pretty much, yes." "Oh, sorry." And there it stayed.
I'm forgetting another facet of the story, in which I intervened in a trashing-the-undergrads-fest on Facebook, which of course was only a joke. A violent, bigoted joke. I defended a student I did not know--and by extension the dignity of all students--and then, by the way, found out how badly my own students from the fall had trashed me. And they were education majors, and prone to the kind of attitude that children need to be filled with life issues so they can be programmed to think correctly--just the kind of attitude that I was fighting in my son's education and in my encounter with FB. But that's all I can say about that. It was horrible. Even people who don't accept my view of things would agree that it was horrible. It represented a serious disrespect for the common dignity of students. I was appalled, and very emotionally involved. I don't compartmentalize well. This series of events happened beginning the Friday before the report presentation, which was a Wednesday.
Well, the next day, my class turned in their papers and completed evals. But before the class, I walked into the office where I needed to turn in materials related to the assessment. I was hoping to fish for a "job well done," but nothing was forthcoming. I waled into the office of a colleague to say hello, was asked how I was doing, and realized that I was going to have a breakdown right on the spot. There was nothing I could focus on to keep from crying, and so I said, "I'm about to have a complete nervous breakdown, apparently," and was told to sit and I pretty much spilled most of the job-related things that I have related here. There was the added pressure that my advisor/dept head thought he had found an admin position that he wanted me to apply for. Thankfully, the search was postponed.
That morning, I had left the house on my normal "bringing people to school and work" routine. I went to the grocery store and came back with $200 in groceries, including 4 bottles of wine. Now, we just don't drink that much wine--or any alcohol, really. I almost bought 6 when I remembered that I could get a 10% discount. I picked up my sister and made jokes about cracking one open for breakfast instead of eating, since I wasn't really hungry. I got things together and went to campus. I thought I was o.k., if a little moody. I thought I had decided to pursue a nonacademic career in writing or publishing. I still like the idea of writing, but I'm not happy with the lack of stability--everyone's a writer, it seems. I spent much of the previous night looking at such jobs and coming to terms with that decision. Why should I want to deal with students, I wondered? It's pretty thankless, after all. And my fate rests in their hands to a large degree, both in terms of evaluations and classroom dynamic. And for what? Do they really learn from me? I was feeling like a poor researcher, and a poor teacher, and a poor mother to boot, but I knew one thing--I'm a good writer. And writing comes easy to me. So writing what people tell me to write shouldn't be so bad. Unless it involves analyzing data. And even then. . .
So I showed up late and a little bleary-eyed for my class, and if they noticed, I don't know. They were very upbeat and very nice. I was to meet someone after picking up the papers, but she couldn't make it and cancelled. So I was sitting, recovered, or so I thought, and my advisor approached me. I'm not even going to go into the weirdness of the relationship, but it fluctuates between friend, professional authority figure, and authoritative male family member. He would probably be hurt if he knew I didn't include "colleague," which probably also adds to the weirdness of it. So he came up suddenly and sat next to me. I clapped my computer shut. And he said we needed to talk. Great, cause I needed a lecture. Not now, but maybe this afternoon? Or make an appointment? Great, so I can get an "official" lecture. About "whether[I] want a job, and what kind of job [I] want." Well, I don't want Writing Programs Administration. I told him I would be dead of a heart attack before 40 if I took such a job. Blah blah blah talents, blah blah blah opportunities I've been given. And then, what kind of a condescending, unprofessional move is it to tell me as I'm trying to recover from the emotional implications of the week from hell that I look like my 12-year-old son when I make an expression like that????? No, thank you very much. HE looks like ME!! I wish I would have thought to say so. Eventually, I had to leave the building to avoid being seen, but not before I walked past the assistant department head and was offered a hug by a friend.
Believe me, had I been able to get a job and out of this department without compromising my integrity, I would have done so. As it was, I didn't even have the opportunity to compromise my integrity.
I think I am back to imagining myself in academia, but I do wonder why. Mostly, I think, because I don't know how to search for a writing job, or because I don't want to settle for an entry-level salary, or because only an academic job search offers sufficient security (possibly) to justify a move across country (or wherever).
So I'm all set for to be lectured on Tuesday (or whenever). This is the only professional support I am to expect from my adviser, since any questions I might have, I should (apparently) know already, and all I receive is a one line response generally. I might still try to get a panel proposal together on Wednesday for a conference next Spring.
I had some conclusions about how to proceed with the job search, but they're about personal integrity rather than selling my soul, so I guess they're irrelevant at this point. I fluctuate between hope and despair, when presumably the correct attitude is stoic resolution masked by false enthusiasm.
So yeah, I have no idea where to go from here. Except to find someplace to live that is cheap enough to allow me to put my youngest in mother's day out 3x a week, and to allow me to spend too much to go to the big meat market for the language professions where all good postdocs go if they want to get jobs. My advisor and my mom would most likely tell me I'm being too negative. But my mom wouldn't say it these days, because she understands my frustrations, so that's apparently why I have an advisor.
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