Stanley Fish is My Hero

From the man who brought us Reader Response Theory comes some really useful advice: Save The World on Your Own Time! And Good Lord, do I hope it catches on! At the very least, it should cause a stir. I have not had time to blog around to see what others are saying. This hat tip goes to my husband, who referred me to a blog he frequents, Instapundit, and here's the quote:

STANLEY FISH'S ADVICE TO PROFESSORS: Save the World on Your Own Time.

More on that here. "Whether anyone notices it or not or comments on it or not, the teaching of writing in universities is a disaster. [There is] the conviction on the part of many composition teachers that what they are really teaching is some form of social justice, and that the teaching of writing ... takes a back seat. And in fact in many classrooms the teaching of writing as a craft as something that has rules with appropriate decorums ... is in fact demonized as an indication of the hegemony of the powers that be. This happens over and over again in classrooms and it’s an absolute disaster."

Can I just say thank you?? I have been skeptical of professors' agendas since I was an undergrad, but since I was an undergrad when Clinton was pres. and at a university where no one really cared anymore, I was spared the more overtly political preaching. There was no Ph.D. program, either, so I didn't have activist grad student types (sorry, guys, you know they're out there) telling me what to think. And I've been the fly on the wall for too many "reprogram the Conservative Christian Students" conversations to dismiss the activism as myth. And I'm not just talking about the current generation of Ph.D.s in the department, most of whom I don't know. This stuff has been bantered about since I got here, and got worse when the fear of 9/11 wore off and after Bush won reelection. Perhaps the only thing that would come of a democratic victory would be that we could go back to teaching literature and composition and back off of the politics. (I don't believe this for one minute, btw.) Now, I do think that there can be a political dimension to literary criticism, but it's being hit a little hard, ya know?

Now Stanley Fish has in the past drawn a skeptical response from me, as he seems, elsewhere, to advocate the "anything goes" method of teaching literature, and I have never seen the use for that. It seems to me that we must have the text as a common ground, and even if we can't refer back to the author, we should at least be able to refer back to the text and assume that multiple readers, while each bringing something else to the table, can still agree on the essential elements of that text. The text, for me, does not exist somewhere "out there"--discourse surrounding the text and about the text exists "out there," but that's different; rather, it exists in the book in front of us. However, Fish posited (a while ago, this is old news) that it is the reader's engagement with the text, including what the reader brings from his/her own background, that creates a separate thing, the "text" that is the result of a collaboration between the reader and the author. I don't buy it. And I'm not alone, but it was all the rage for a while--before my time. I think the idea was to liberate something from something--the text from critics, the author from biography, the students from professors.

So as a guy who wants to liberate, and transfers this to the classroom, the advice seems odd, no? Except that he remains the champion of the student, in a way. Why do we have to steamroll their opinions and values--all that they bring to the table? Why should we automatically assume that we are the enlightened ones in all matters--including individual values/beliefs? When we alter their ways of thinking, must we alter their consciences? At any rate, Fish has tapped into exactly why I don't want to go into Rhetoric/Comp, although I'm technically qualified and have been groomed for it, more or less. I don't want to hang around these guys and be subjected to the enlightened assumption that everyone does or should agree with their views of the world. And--by the way--teach from their textbooks. If the meaning of a literary text depends on the reader, and if the professor should keep that in mind, then how much more should we stay out of their responses to politics, since that's not what we're called upon to teach?

[Of course, I am coming at this from a very different perspective from Mr. Fish, who scorns neoconservative blah blah blah, etc. and really thinks this king of thing only happens a small percentage of the time. But if that's so, why can't I find a decent composition text?]

Dr. Literacy-Chic

You can still call me Literacy-chic, though! ;)

The defense was a short, friendly conversation--only an hour! I have some good suggestions for converting it to a book and many nice things were said. Now I have some serious sweets hanging around!

Immediate plans: Hit local restaurant where 2 of my siblings work for some celebratory dessert & wine--maybe an appetizer. I want a margarita, but I'm not sure about that level of alcohol while breastfeeding. . . My brother's the bartender, though, so we'll see what I might be able to work out! Maybe something 1/2 strength. :)

I feel happy, but most of the relief was after the draft was done. That was the BIG work. Now, I'm just feeling motivated for the future, which is a big thing for me!!

Thank you all so much for all of your thoughts & prayers! I appreciate having such supportive blog-friends!

Academic Moms & Tenure Track Jobs

Hat tip: Kate

A study out of Utah revealed recently that female professors are less likely than their professional counterparts to have children. This is hardly surprising to someone who has been in a graduate program and known a number of female academics who, for whatever reason, have decided not to have children or have delayed that decision indefinitely. I have been fortunate to be in a department full of professor-moms and even more fortunate, lately, to be in a department full of grad student moms (though this was late in coming--I was the only grad student mom in the department for quite some time!! It's nice to have company. . .) The blog that mentions this study also mentions that UC Berkley is doing something to try to address the issue of continued gender inequity in academia--the basic fact that while being married with children seems to be an asset of sorts to male success in academia (or at least a reflection of--like sowing the academic oats has a biological counterpart*), the reverse is true for women. More women who achieve tenure have fewer children, no children, and have children later, while women who have children earlier tend to drop off of the tenure-track, choosing instead to work in adjunct and lecturer-type positions. Tenured women are also more likely to be divorced, since the average male prof is married to a non-academic, while the average female academic is married to a male Ph.D., leading to the "my career is more important that yours" syndrome. I have seen that happen with a lawyer couple with whose family my family was good friends when I was growing up, so I suspect that that statistic is true of professional married women in general. It is not unique to academic couples for each individual to enter the marriage with the assumption that his/her career is or should be more important than the other person's, or more important than the marriage or the family unit. But such things vary according to maturity level of the individuals involved (the couple we knew were very immature), temperament, and level of ambition.

Now, to be fair, the rather extensive study done by Berkeley showed that women with children made up almost 1/2 of women in tenure-track positions, with only a slightly lower percentage overall than women without children. It's funny the way that worked out, unless you look at the comparison to the number of men in tenure-track positions. It was clear that family considerations do indeed keep huge numbers of women out of tenure-track positions. When I consider my schedule for next year as I strive to keep my youngest out of daycare, I understand why. But at the same time, for women to drop down into lower-paying, higher-teaching load adjunct and non-tenure track positions doesn't make intuitive sense to me.

I remember reading posts recently about the presence and absence of children in our lives. Not just the ones that sparked some of my bolder pronouncements on the subject, but discussions on other blogs about how having children around while growing up fosters a healthy attitude toward children, including a realistic impression of what can actually be accomplished with children around. Just the knowledge of how to take care of a baby is a healthy effect of having not only siblings, but young cousins, and friends who have siblings, etc. While it may be helpful for me at this stage to have some on-campus office hours in the fall, I know that I can write with my babies around. I've been doing it as long as I can remember!! So sacrificing the lower teaching load of a tenure-track job for a job that requires more in-classroom hours and less research & publication doesn't seem like a smart career (or family) move to me. Of course, I don't aspire to an R1 university anyway. I would like a university where achieving tenure is a more laid-back, faculty-supported, not highly-competitive enterprise. So clearly, I won't be taking a position (or applying for a position) with the Berkeley system. Besides my aversion to earthquakes and mudslides. But it is nice to see the problems laid out and some solutions proposed. I really like one of the goals articulated in their report on their findings: They want to be able to answer the often-asked female grad student query, "When is a good time to have a baby?" with a resounding "Any time!" Part of their program, then, is to support grad students who wish to have families. The problem is that at this stage their family-friendly policies and goals (dictated, no doubt, by current reluctance of some people to move to California because of cost as well as a negative birth rate in some parts of the state that rivals that of some European nations. . .) are not necessarily shared by the institutions that will be hiring their new Ph.D.'s. So it's a step in the right direction, but unless other schools follow suit, it's only a solution for the faculty they wish to recruit or retain.

On the other hand, if some nutbar tries to tell me that I'm being utterly irresponsible by having more than one or two children, I can just say that since only 1 in 3 female tenured academics have children, I can have up to 6 myself and still be making up for the other two!!

*Sowing the academic oats does indeed have a biological counterpart when male professors, having achieved tenure, marry their grad students or undergrads!

Catchier Title: Catholic Postmodernism?

I suppose the whole "finishing a dissertation draft" thing is making me feel like an academic again or something, because my last few posts have been very much in the academic vein. That makes me feel good, really, because this is pretty much how I should be thinking if I want to pull-off an academic career of sorts. Also, it's nice to have ideas & feel excited about having ideas again!! So continuing the trend. . .

In response to my last post about Reading Modernism as an Adult, Maria, fellow-Catholic Academic and Modernist (!) wrote a post about her experiences of Modernism as an Adult, with particular reference to postmodernism. She writes:

I realized that I was a modernist after a few years too. Especially, in grad school when I realized that my dabbling in postmodernism had turned me off of over fragmentation without a purpose. A purpose of purposelessness. I found that increasingly annoying. Particularly because of the discussions that I had in the last few courses of my MA with people who thought that uselessness had more use than well, use (sorry about that). It really bothered me to think that there were people who thought in such a way.

This made a lot of sense to me. Particularly the bit about fellow students. I almost think sometimes that grad students and (to a lesser extent perhaps) professors who study postmodernism take it more seriously than the writers themselves.

I know that in theory postmodernism is "A purpose of purposelessness," and that many writers and philosophers do indeed take that to heart. But I would venture to say that not all of them do. In all of the fragmented contradictions of postmodernism, isn't it possible to sometimes glimpse a hint or hope of meaning? The pieces may not fit. . . or perhaps it's that we haven't yet found--or have forgotten--the clue to assembling them. Not that we would necessarily assemble them anyway, because aren't the pieces interesting in and of themselves? They make us laugh at ourselves. As in the stories of Donald Barthelme. But perhaps I'm not talking about the purist postmodernists. I have a few postmodernists that I keep up my sleeve and play with from time to time. I've waxed poetic about Calvino before. And Borges is always good for a laugh.

Now the interesting thing about Calvino and Borges is that--whether or not they ever set foot in a Catholic Church past the age of 7--both lived primarily or extensively in Catholic countries, or so it could be supposed. (I have since found Barthelme listed in many places under the heading "American Catholic writers," usually with the disclaimer that he declared himself to be agnostic.) And though being "culturally Catholic" isn't the same as being Catholic, raised Catholic, practicing Catholic, or coming from a Catholic background, it affects one. There are moments in Invisible Cities that remind me--not of Catholicism exactly, but of a certain worldview that I grew up with. It has to do with the continuation of life--indeed, the celebration of life!--in the face of fragmentation and apparent meaninglessness. I say "apparent" because nowhere in Calvino do I get the sense that life is absolutely meaningless. Life provides questions--seemingly contradictory questions--that we can't answer, but, well, we all know that. Of course, I'm also the person who sees Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star" as posing a dilemma that actually allows for a theological answer. *shrug* Truthfully, there's a certain kind of hopelessness that I find exhilarating. Perhaps because it is after a certain point of hopelessness that faith really begins to take root. There are moments like that in Tolkien, too, and they can be positively identified as Catholic in his context.

So what I'm wondering is, can a "Catholic postmodernism" be identified, and what would it gain for us to do so? Perhaps an articulation of a particular Catholic worldview. To return to my Catholic colleges question, I think I imagine an academic community that would assist and support this kind of inquiry--colleagues who would take such questions seriously. Wonder where I could find such a place?

So what do you want to do?

I thought that with a Ph.D., the answer to that would be pretty clear. Even to those relatively unfamiliar with academia. So imagine my surprise when I got a version of that question from one of my committee members!! Granted, it was phrased rather differently. First, he asked where I wanted to teach, what kind of flexibility I had in terms of following a job (that was the "what's your husband going to do" and "will he follow you" question), how I'm going to market myself, and, finally, whether I want to be a "publishing" academic. Ummm. . . 'cause we have a choice, but okay. . . Even schools that really value teaching over publication--as evidenced by the high teaching loads required at those schools--feel the need to put a clause in their job ads about publishing & scholarly activity. I'm not sure what the rationale is. Maybe they feel like they need to include that kind of thing in order to attract up-and-coming new Ph.D.s, or maybe they really do feel like there should be a publishing component for academics at their (mostly smaller) colleges. I don't quite see a 4-4 load being compatible with a publishing career. And I don't see a 4-4 load being compatible with me. Writing and research for publication can be accomplished with babies around. Teaching 4 classes a semester--not so much. And the schools with the higher teaching loads don't tend to pay more.

But actually, I do see myself publishing. I like academic writing. I think some of my ideas might benefit the literary community. It sounds arrogant, but you have to think that kind of thing to play this game. And, well, you have to think that what you're doing is at least as interesting as what others are doing, perhaps more interesting. I'm pretty much there--no surprises. I do wonder what will stimulate new ideas, though. I can get some mileage from the literacy thing. I can get some mileage from ideas left over from coursework, and Catholicism might creep in somewhere, somehow. The "must write to complete course" and "must write to finish degree" will be replaced by "must write to publish" and "must write to get promotion/tenure." I suppose that the "ideas generated by coursework" will be replaced by "ideas generated by teaching" and "ideas generated by conferences" and "ideas generated by further reading." But you know, it feels different. I guess it will happen.

As for the other questions, I couldn't exactly say that I would apply for anything I seemed remotely qualified for. That may not be precisely true, anyway. I would prefer to teach literature, but I may be seen as attractive because of rhetoric. But I don't really know rhetoric. I am flexible enough to go anywhere, but there are some places I really don't want to live. And you know, being here for almost 9 years has spoiled me. I know what doctors to see, what schools are good, and I know it's safe to take a walk in the park. There is a disturbing lack of good Catholic education, but there are rumors about that changing. There is a disturbing lack of culture, but there is a reassuring lack of crime. It's not a bad place to raise a family, just a boring place. Anyway, the next year(s) will be an adventure! I wonder how often I will have to answer/ponder these same questions in the coming weeks and months?

Okay, So I Might Graduate. . .

Actually, it's looking pretty certain these days. I'm finishing up the dissertation now (well, no, not now exactly, but you know what I mean. . .), and my defense is set for May 5. I have to have a good copy to my committee by Friday so they can, like, read it and stuff. So eventually, I figure, I should get a job. Well, I guess first I have to look and apply for some jobs. So I was wondering. . .

Since becoming Catholic, I have been thinking, Gee, wouldn't it be nice to teach at a nice Catholic school? Then I could raise the kinds of questions that you can't raise in a state school where you're supposed to respect everyone's religious identity to the point of annihilating your own (like when, post 9-11, one prof voluntarily removed his Divinity Degree from the wall, and another was advised to hide her icons!!), and where there would, presumably, be some sense of Catholic identity, and opportunities for faith formation among the faculty and. . . well, that's the kind of thing I was thinking. Except that even in the first fervor of conversion, I wasn't sure Ave Maria or Steubenville would be for me. I'm an orthodox kind of gal, but I'm not ready for any Catholic versions of those protestant colleges that won't let faculty drink alcohol (yet the one I have in mind has the bar and cash register from the Bird and the Baby--the Eagle and Child pub where the Inklings met--in its library--yeah. . .), and I believe that those schools might be a teensy evangelical in flavor for a recovering protestant.

So then I found the blogosphere. Specifically, the Catholic blogosphere. And I learned that not all Catholic colleges are created equal. And that precious few are deemed "Catholic enough" for the orthodox crowd who want their kids to have a degree. I've been to a bunch of the web sites that give you the scoop on the adherence of the various Catholic colleges to the Magesterium, read many a lament about the state of Catholic higher education, many tirades against the Jesuits, and, frankly, I'm confused. The scholarly, prominent Catholic universities with whom every new Ph.D. would LOVE to have an interview are apparently unworthy of being termed Catholic, while the most orthodox of all hire mainly clergy or have 5-person English departments or 300-student enrollments and the ones in between have low pay, high teaching loads, nominal research requirements--not the kind of place to go, in short, if teaching and research are on your agenda, that is, if you want your ideas to be heard by the scholarly community. So is it worth investigating positions at Catholic colleges at all? If you risk being associated with heterodoxy or heresy, or exposed to and manipulated by such ideas? If, by avoiding those pitfalls, you are compromising the chance of having a Catholic voice in the cacophany of scholarly opinions? Not to mention compromising your ability to pay those loans--you know, the ones that are equal to or surpass the price of a really nice house? The ones that you will not pay off before you die? The ones that are, in fact, a lease on your education rather than a purchase? Yeah, those. Is it O.K. for a Catholic academic to take a position at a Catholic college or university that is Catholic in name only? In hopes of influencing others, maybe? Or do you just give up on Catholic education altogether in order to avoid this sticky issue?

The Nature of the Job Market -or- Why I Won't Be Hired -or- A Coffee-Inspired Digression

Let me preface this by saying that I'm having a little debate with myself about coffee--whether I should have more of the stuff or avoid it altogether. You see, when I have more of it, I get agitated, but when I get agitated, I write stuff--sometimes even the stuff I'm supposed to be writing. When I have less coffee, I am calmer but less productive. Incidently, the best coffee in the world is made by monks.

So I received an email today about a job candidate to whom we've offered a position. This person is being hired in a marginal subfield related (somewhat) to my marginal subfield, but also intersects with many hot-topic subfields (some related to marginal groups)--hear: really attractive to a field trying to redefine itself as interdisciplinary, non-Western, and socially and politically "relevant." This person would also help the minority profile of the department, and comes from a somewhat more high-profile state school than the one that has offered him a position--also a state-school better known for liberal arts than the one that has offered him a position. He is a self-described "activist"--attractive to some segments of the faculty and grad student body, though the university is not located in a place that one would necessarily consider an ideal locale for activism (unless he painted tiger-stripes on himself and posed naked with the PETA chicks who protested the Barnum & Bailey circus a few years back. . .). He also has extensive creative publications, which would add a possible creative writing instructor to the faculty. His publication record is impressive, albeit limited to journals and book chapters in his particular, very specific, not very prominent ethnic literature specialization--the equivalent to me publishing in the fictitious Journal of Literacy in British Literature of the Early Twentieth Century. No wait--that's less specific. Oh well! He is in the process of being wined & dined by numerous other departments who want him for the exact same reasons I have outlined: well-qualified & looks good politically. So what's the problem?

Well, as I see it, and as the faculty has presented it, he is one of the best qualified new scholars currently on the market, and has other benefits besides. Every department hiring for anything related to his specialties wants him. He's got lots of people fighting for him, and unless we're making him a really sweet deal, he might not be willing to settle for "flagship" school in Texas miles outside of civilization. I mean, another department in liberal arts had a candidate turn them down because the local high school didn't have a good enough tennis team. Yeah. Neither the climate of the school nor the faculty in general nor the majority of the student body are really activism-friendly. (Okay, you all know where I live now. C'est la vie!) So why make him an offer he's likely to refuse? Naivete? Ambition? Have the faculty who are here convinced themselves that it's a really great place? After all, we've got the minimum number of Starbucks to be considered civilized now, a definite improvement on 10 years ago--oh wait, do activists like Starbucks? Hmmmm. . . But what do I have against making him an offer? If he refuses, we just move on an no one has lost anything, and there is the snowball's chance in hell that he will accept.

Well you see, I'm thinking about this as a grad student approaching a firing committee--oh wait, that's "hiring committee," "firing squad". . . Sorry! In the "professionalization and publication" class I took, we talked a bit about the "culture" of a department/university, and how we should make sure we would be a good fit, and how we should learn about the university's/department's "culture" in order to make a convincing application to that department. Anyway, this "culture" thing is supposed to be a deciding factor for search committees. At least in theory. A candidate can be bumped for not fitting in with the "culture"--it's permissible. Clearly, I don't think he quite fits, but this is not about me. Well at least I wasn't the one giving input (for many very good reasons). In theory, someone who is well-qualified but not as high-profile--say, someone from a lesser state-school or one not particularly well-known for liberal arts--can win out over someone who looks more attractive initially based on a well-crafted argument concerning fitting in with the school's "culture." There are other strategies, too, and admittedly it's probably not best to play up a connection with the "culture" of a school with decidedly non-intellectual "culture," but presumably being much more suited for a more cosmopolitan area could influence the decision of a hiring committee in a less cosmopolitan area.

Because, you see, if the top, kind of wacky candidate is not offered all of the 10 positions open in the field (or 6, or whatever), but the positions s/he is most likely to accept (or where s/he is most likely to feel comfortable, not leave within 5 years, etc.), then the second-best, still excellent 2 or 3 candidates might be offered 2-3 positions in the first cycle of offers, which basically means that the hiring process will be completed sooner and the second- and third choice candidates get offers sooner. After all, there are so many people in this discipline who are really well-qualified but lack the academic pedigree of a certain university, I'm not sure the top candidate really is the best candidate--at least, I hope not.

By all accounts, the job search is expensive, grueling, anxious, miserable, and often unfair. And did I mention a load of laughs? If you're from a lesser school, you really need to start padding the vita against guys like the one described above from day one. But if you don't quite have the same list of pubs, does it really mean that you're less worthy? (Working on politically correct subject matter often helps, too. This guy has it all!) A lot of the misery of the job search could be lessened--at least for some candidates--if the hiring committees would be a little more realistic & rational about the whole process. I mean, what if their own students were competing against Mr. Star Candidate? Would they feel like their own students had the chance that they deserved, or that the decks were stacked against them? Would they (and their students) appreciate being left on the back burners while the top few were treated to the grand tour, even by schools whose offers they were least likely to accept? And what about the committees themselves? Are their resources best spent making offers to 4-5 candidates before one accepts? And isn't it just a little nicer for everyone involved to know that the first candidate to receive an offer accepted it?

Class & Privilege in the Blogs

Recently, my academic and Catholic blog reading has collided in a weird way--in my mind, anyway. There has been this meme hopping around the Catholic blogs, answered here by Entropy and here by Mrs. Darwin, that measures privilege. Sort of. I have been tempted--sorely tempted--to answer it. But something has prevented me. Perhaps the same thing that tempts me to turn off comments on this post--not sure what that is, though.

Then, I have been following a series of posts on Anastasia's blog here, here, here and here--about the role of one's socio-economic background in one's academic success and, ultimately, one's success in Academia. I actually don't like to use the word "class" here, because, as Anastasia points out, there is more to class than money, and "class" is often very narrowly--or conveniently--defined, depending on one's agenda. As several of my dissertation chapters do deal with class (ugh), my dissertation director & I have discussed class a teensy bit, his opinion being that it is more relevant in Britain than the U.S., since class is actually a very different thing in the U.S. than in Britain--dependent on more independent factors, which I write at the risk of sounding circular. I have not commented on the posts because I'm not entirely sure I want to read what other people have said on the topic. (You know when you just want to resist getting bogged down in the debate? That's where I am. . .) So I have relied on Anastasia's accounts of what others have said, and her responses make a lot of sense to me. Our circumstances intersect at times(check the comments for an explanation of this).

All of this called for a response. So whadya think? How privileged am I? Have I mentioned recently that my mother is living with my little brother in a house without plumbing? Or that when growing up I knew more about Catholic Charities than most Catholics? There's a long history here, but I have a disclaimer: People thought of these things differently in New Orleans when I was growing up than how they are perceived elsewhere, now. I didn't feel less privileged than my peers. Though I did have a "friend" remark that, unlike her, I wouldn't have to worry about competitive scholarships 'cause I could qualify for financial aid. Nice. So I have perhaps too many comments on this, but here goes:

From What Privileges Do You Have?, based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University. If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)

Bold the true statements.

1. Father went to college Think so, but I didn't know him. My mother's second husband was a high school drop out.
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college I don't think it counts if she finished after me. We were in school at the same time and alternated days so I could babysit while she was in class.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers. Tough call. Not according to household income.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children's books by a parent I could read for as long as I can remember, though that may be a cognitive effect of literacy. I'm sure my mother probably read to me when I was little & she had time. I read to everyone when I was older!
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively Tough call, but we dressed well. Better than others. My mom sewed & believed that you could always afford to dress nicely. We were all well spoken.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs Ummmm. . . No. She was getting loans too. My grandmother paid my summer tuition as a graduation present, allowing me to enroll & get dual credit to graduate from high school a year early.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels No vacations since I was 4.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 Even though I was the oldest, no. I wore aunts' old clothes.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child My mother's--she was an art major.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house When I was 8 or 9 they bought the house that currently has no plumbing & is still being paid. 800 sq. ft. 3 bedroom, 1 bath for as many as 2 adults and 6 children at a time.
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home Does "owned" mean paid? It was still an undivided community when I left. . .
25. You had your own room as a child
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school It only worked for video games--really old. If it even still worked by then. . .
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 To New York at 15 to work at a Christian Camp, which ruined me for organized Christianity for a while
31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family

8/34 = 23.5%

My husband scored 50%. I married up! Hahaha

I think perhaps family size could be a factor, but I wouldn't know how to factor for it. I might have asked about free/reduced lunch at school. That can carry a stigma.

My mother grew up perhaps a bit more privileged than I did. My grandfather provided for his family very well working for a large oil company. He stayed in New Orleans with said oil company even when many of his friends there moved over to Houston. My grandmother was the daughter of sharecroppers. There were some issues about what was appropriate for girls re:education. At least, my mother was not helped at all, which is why her first college experience ended quickly. But my grandfather did value education, and bitterly regretted his own lack of college, while regarding it a bastion of liberalism (fairly, I think). This was also a positive influence on me when I was growing up. My mother had a high value for education. So while economically we were below the poverty level, our values were not what are typically considered working class values. I did not doubt that I would attend college, though I did not expect anyone else to pay for it. My mother was questioning and taught us to question. And you know, class just wasn't a big thing. I learned to rely on my abilities.

Which may not have served me as well as you might think. . .

You see, I didn't know how to play the game. In fact, I was decidedly opposed to the game. You know, the connections game. Could I have gotten into a non-commuter non-state or flagship-state school? Maybe. Could I have gone? Practically? No. At least, I don't know how I would have gotten there. My mother didn't even have a major credit card. But in my stubbornly economically disadvantaged ignorance, I didn't think it mattered. I believed that I would get just as good an education as at a big name school. And in many ways, I think I did. But that's not really what matters, as I learned later. Because unless you know people with connections or have a school name to back you up, or are privileged or disadvantaged in the right ways, you don't advance the same way. So I have bopped from state school to state school, and while I have gained a bit--I am in a higher "tier" than I used to be--it is not a school known for liberal arts, which means that even though it's a big name, it's a big name for the wrong things. That's going to hurt. And the ways to overcome that--conferences and publications--I really haven't done. Because, you see, besides not liking to travel by myself and having kids (though I could have left the one behind with my husband more than I did when he was an only child, I just didn't like to!!), I really can't afford to travel to conferences!! Even if you're reimbursed, you need a way to pay for it in the first place, and with student loans filling in where the income leaves gaps, there's no room for extras. Except that I did sacrifice to send my son to some private schools. For better or worse, really, but for better in terms of his self-esteem.

Like Anastasia, I wanted to study classical languages sooner. I wanted to attend the all-boys Catholic high school my husband attended to have the educational advantages I associated (correctly) with that school. I made the "get out while the scholarship is paying" choices rather than the "prepare for grad school" choices, so I was never able to acquire the languages necessary for comparative lit. But growing up in my income bracket paradoxically gave me determination, but a false sense of confidence in my abilities alone, and deprived me of the connections and credentials (i.e. school names) that I now know go a loooooooong way. I wish I didn't believe that, but I really do. And I think it will cost me academically.

I'm wondering, though, what my son will put down as his answer to the same questions. How privileged is he by comparison? Let's see. . .

1. Father went to college
2. Father finished college
3. Mother went to college
4. Mother finished college
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor God willing
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children's books by a parent
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18 Not gonna happen
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
16. Went to a private high school Let's just say yes (and you know, I almost think homeschooling would merit a 'yes' for this. It doesn't prove anything about economics, but it does demonstrate a dedication to quality of education that could fit a certain definition of privilege).
17. Went to summer camp
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels (Did you know that parents going to a conference is a family vacation? At any rate, there aren't many, but staying in hotels is the only option.)
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18 Pretty much
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them Not gonna happen
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child Ummm. . . My mom's. . .
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house For a few years. . .
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home Doubt it
25. You had your own room as a child Yup. For now.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18 Not gonna happen
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course What if he doesn't need it? Or a tutor?
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16
31. Went on a cruise with your family
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up When we can
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family

17/34 = 50% Hmmm. . .

Does materialism = privilege necessarily, or vice versa? There needs to be a distinction between monetary and intellectual privilege here. Know what? That distinction is important to the dissertation, which, despite any obstacles to the contrary--money, family situation--I am indeed writing! (albeit slowly)

Pregnancy & Grad School: Are We Behind the Times?

By "we" I mean the university where I currently teach/dissertate. Apparently, I and the other grad student moms are not at all behind the times! In fact, we are doing exactly what we are supposed to be doing, much as our early-wave feminist professors were doing as they were supposed to be doing (and as, in many cases, they think we should be doing) by waiting until their careers were well established before having their families (if, indeed, they ever did choose to have families--whether they just never confronted the choice, didn't have time, or chose consciously not to have families). I actually feel fortunate at this university that so many of the female faculty in my department do have children, if I haven't mentioned it before in quite this way.

So how, then are we behind the times? Well, while I was poking around seeing how people found me on sitemeter, I came across someone who did a Google search for "grad" and "mom" (or something similar). In addition to my own post, which likely didn't really fit what the person was looking for (Google is good for that), I found a few articles of interest. First, it seems that the Chemistry department at Stanford implemented a "pregnancy policy" in 2005, providing for pregnant grad students who held assistantships with the department to have “a 12-week period intended to accommodate late-stage pregnancy, childbirth and the care of a newborn"; though the article does not specifically mention whether the stipend would continue to be paid, I thought this was the implication the first time I read the article. Concerns raised were the exposure of the mother to chemicals and breastfeeding, and admirably, the question of whether 3 months (a WHOLE 3 months!!) would be enough time was addressed. Equity among graduate students as professionals-in-training, who should be treated in a manner analogous to postdocs and faculty, was a motivation of the department, as well as encouraging and maintaining women in the profession. On the whole this surprised me, given that it was a branch of the sciences rather than the liberal arts that was choosing to codify this policy, even though the rationale (chemicals, etc.) makes sense.

In 2006, only a few months after the first article, The Stanford Daily reported on a university-wide pregnancy policy for grad students, "a new policy with six weeks of paid leave, automatic deadline extensions and a way to maintain full-time student status." While acknowledging that the policy could offer a competitive edge over other grad schools for some (really, really special) applicants (the average pregnant prospective student wouldn't be courted by Stanford, after all), the paper seemed to think that this was a gesture toward respect for mothers rather than an attempt to attract students. I liked this statement on the subject:

The new pregnancy policy is a perfect example of how the University shouldn’t be making excuses about women in the Ph.D pipeline when the University can do things about it. This policy won’t just attract women who are planning to have children soon; it will attract women — and men — who value a true commitment to diversity.

Interesting to hear grad student families evoked under the heading of "diversity." MIT is mentioned in the article as having such a program already.

Our school's newspaper wouldn't find such a thing newsworthy. Pity. But that could be the culture. When many undergrads are looking for husbands so that they don't have to use their degrees, how would an undergraduate-centered publication even have a frame of reference from which to address this topic? *sigh*

Stony Brook State University of New York passed a related initiative on September 26, 2006, the Stony Brook Childbirth Accommodation Policy. "SB-CAP includes provisions for academic extensions, relief from regular teaching, research, clinical and/or training duties and interim financial support from the Graduate School for students that receive stipend support as Teaching Assistants, Graduate Assistants, or Research Assistants."

Excellent! So when is our turn?

I have been fortunate, finally, to receive some support, though the arranging of things was very stressful and contributed to my overall lack of progress during my first trimester, when I was kind of frozen in shock, wondering how this would work. The department decided, for continuity's sake, to hire a lecturer as a substitute for my class (in part so that my students didn't become too disoriented). I will continue to operate aspects of the class via the online course interface--hopefully, there will be some online discussion of the final work on the syllabus. Then, there are poetry presentations, based on their first papers, to cover a bit more ground in poetry. My substitute will be primarily responsible for taping these. After the presentations, my sub will oversee 2 peer workshops to help the students finalize their research paper drafts. And that's that! I have still to comment on paper topics & thesis statements, working bibliographies, grade an annotated bibliography, a research paper, and a final exam (which I will be writing sometime in the future). But I won't have to set foot back in the classroom.

That is, until January 14. That's going to roll around fast. I think I'm depressed now. *sigh*

The good news is that I teach at 5:30--after my husband gets off of work. So he will watch the teeny-tiny, the toddler, and the big brother while I am in class 2 days/week. Also, I am teaching the same thing as this semester, and doing it the same way, so very, very little prep (aside from reading/re-reading the things I didn't read/re-read this semester). But being away from that teeny-tiny is really going to be a bummer. And I will certainly have to bend my no-bottle policy and pump so that my husband isn't left high and dry (hah!) if the nursing schedule doesn't work out exactly right. It's very daunting. Maybe I should just focus on waiting for the teeny-tiny right now. She'll be 2 months when classes resume. Oof.

And I'm supposed to graduate in May? Good luck.

What's Making Me Happy These Days

The first week of school (my teaching and my son attending) has successfully come to an end. The library situation resolved itself rather well. I learned from the librarian, also, that the teachers he has are very nurturing, and that this Intermediate campus (5th & 6th) is the more nurturing of the two in the area. It will certainly be a week-by-week proposition--a little more than getting through one day at a time, or one contraction at a time, which I've been hearing a lot about, but the first week has given me hope! I do need to do the class prep for this week, and post assignments for next, but I have an idea of what that will entail, so I'm not too worried. I've been putting in some time working on the dissertation, and have two baby blankets in the works as well!

Although it still seems a bit unreal that there is a new baby on the way, the prospect of having two little girls--sisters--is making me smile. Although I told myself that I would not buy the baby any new clothes (beyond one or two very special things), I have amended that resolution to allow for matching sister outfits! (Hee hee hee!) I got two very cute dress-legging combos by Carters in 24 mos. and 3 mos. this weekend. In my defense, I was picking them out for the toddler, when my husband asked if they came in newborn!! (3 months will be big, but not for long!) I started to put one tiny one back, but then we found out that they were on sale for $9 instead of $12--originally $18. How could I resist? ;)

When I bought the toddler bed a while back, I got my battery-powered nasal aspirator! Silly, perhaps, but with the way my babies' sinuses work, I think it's a good buy. I also found it $10 cheaper than online. Yay!

I did make a soft bedrail of sorts for my daughter's toddler bed, and she isn't scooting out any more!

I have 3 more nursing tops planned, when I get a chance to work on them. Time management is--so far--not as bad as I had feared.

I am looking forward to the return of the baby items (carseat, stroller, small pack n' play with bassinet and organic mattress) that I lent out after my daughter outgrew them. At the time, I believed that it would be an uncomplicated issue. I had no idea that I would find myself pregnant only weeks later! While the loan was not based on the couple's inability to afford baby items, they had expressed a reluctance to spend the money on baby items. The things were lent in good faith, with good intentions. I believe that the loan allowed them to feel like they could spend money in other areas, to feel good about more expensive baby purchases than they might have "risked" otherwise. The return was less-than-pleasant for complicated reasons. I am hoping that the items reach me in good condition. Having them shipped to me--particularly with no insurance--was not my preference, and I had made other arrangements accordingly. But, it is done. Now I have only to wait. I am happy thinking about getting them and setting everything up, though anxious about the surrounding circumstances.

I learned recently that I will have help beyond my expectations from my department, who will be helping to arrange for a single substitute while I am out so that my students will not feel shuffled about. Yay! After the trouble I have had with my teaching assignment, and after walking around with somewhat of a chip on my shoulder the first week, awaiting judgment, and even after being ignored (but perhaps there are other reasons) by tenured prof who asked me if I would be on the job market this year after saying that I would not be able to attend the large national conference this year, though I was open to other alternatives, this came as a nice surprise.

Another thought or two:

What's making me happy? Dr. Pepper and dark chocolate (not necessarily together)!

And I have been thinking, recently, of the births of my other two children as a result of the childbirth classes. Now, I'm not sure how much pitocin affects the pushing stage, but I learned recently--and I did not know this before--that pushing can take up to 2 hours. Yipes!! When I had just passed transition (miserably, but quickly) with my son, my doctor said it would only be about 2 hours more. Well, I was determined that it would be nowhere close to 2 hours. So in spite of the fact that he was 9 1/2 lbs., my first baby, that I had an epidural and couldn't feel much, was FLAT on my back--which, of course, is the worst possible position for pushing, he was up pretty high considering he was ready to be born ANY TIME NOW and the nurse was applying pressure just bellow my ribs (gravity would have helped) to get him to descend, and in spite of the fact that the doctor thought that she might have to use forceps, she did NOT have to use forceps, and he was born in 45 min. Now really, that's not bad. I didn't realize that at the time. I didn't realize it afterwards. In fact, I was incredulous at the 2 hr. estimate. I thought she was trying to motivate me. Well, it worked. But no one really told me I had done a good job, and it's taken me 10 years to figure it out. And then my daughter was born after only a few pushes--15 or 20 minutes. But she was smaller, with a much smaller head. But still not bad! I felt a lot of satisfaction after she was born.

I did also forget to mention that at my last prenatal visit, my doctor observed that this is not a small baby! Not a 9-pounder, she says, but not a 7 pounder either (unless she's impatient like her sister, I guess. . .). So that's good! A nice, big, healthy baby, if all continues as it is now! And as an added bonus, that means that a good bit of the 12 lbs. I've gained at this point is BABY, and I don't have to worry about the low weight gain. Yay!

And August is OVER! :D

A Logical Extension

Another thought. . . I feel myself to be an advocate of the idea that the presence of children need not be regarded as a burden, just as some people consider themselves advocates of reproductive rights. The idea that children ruin one's life and career goals is unfortunate and pervasive. While I have been told not to blame feminism for this, I was 8 months pregnant with my first child (and 19 years old), sitting in a senior-level undergraduate literary theory class, when my male professor asked me, of all people in the class, a visual representation of motherhood, to read a passage from a Marxist-Feminist essay on that standard piece of feminist reading (and one of the most reprehensible works I think I read as an undergrad) The Awakening, that concluded that motherhood renders one's life meaningless. Hmmmm. . . If I can, in a small way, make people think about the presence or absence of children from our lives and our spaces in a different way than how they are accustomed to thinking, I am satisfied. It's my own pro-life crusade, if you will, because how many abortions start with the thought, "I just can't. . ."?

Let's Talk About Children. . .

. . . Since we've talked about feminism and motherhood. The original posts that got me thinking about the ways feminists talk about motherhood were about the prohibition of children from certain spaces and the relegation of children to private spaces based on an inferiority of children. One commenter actually said that she considered herself to be raising her children to become human. This is an interesting extension of the argument that says a fetus isn't human--in her construct, she could easily justify the infanticide of ancient Greece and Rome--or of that girl who gave birth in the bathroom during prom. Clearly, she was exaggerating (I hope). Just as clearly, many, many of these women have some psychological problem that makes them resent and lash out against the smallest, least protected, most powerless members of our society who are still acknowledged as such. So we'll suggest that this is a personal problem shared by this substantial group of individuals who also happen to gather together under the label of "feminist." We will further concede that this group is perhaps a bit extreme in their not wanting to be disturbed by children--or by women talking to their children--in the grocery stores. Having made a great number of concessions, I have a few observations to make.

Academia is a very flexible career choice. If one wants to be in a 40+ hour a week desk job, one has the option of administration. However, many academic administrators work considerably less than that. If one wants to split one's time between editorial duties with a journal and teach a class or two, that is an option also. If one has what is considered a "good" teaching load as a tenure-track professor, one likely teaches 2-3 courses a semester. Once tenured, this might decrease further. If one has taught the same class multiple times, one is usually able to teach without much time spent preparing. Then, there is the research requirement, which can be accomplished anywhere. Conferences are like mini-vacations for those who can afford them and are accustomed to them, though for a beginner and one with a modest income, they can afford considerable stress.

Enter children. Or, consider children if they happen to exist already. Clearly, an administrative job would provide challenges for someone who wanted to spend a significant amount of time parenting. If one has a teaching job, however, it is possible for the number of hours actually spent away from the home to resemble a part-time rather than a full-time job. It is even possible, with departmental cooperation, to make one's schedule family friendly by working only 2 or 3 days a week, or by working mornings or evenings only (perhaps alternating with a spouse) and spending the remaining time with one's children. Children might even accompany the parent to office hours, meetings with students, less important departmental meetings, film showings, lectures or other after-hours activities (this would of course depend on the age and behavior of th child(ren) involved). This is challenging, but has its rewards. Research can be done in the presence of children just as easily as housework was traditionally--not that I'm saying that this was/is always easy. Clearly there are good hours and bad hours, and good days and bad days. But you know what? That article or whatever can be written with the kids--at least, if you don't procrastinate like me!!--and if you don't blame the kids for taking up too much of your time, and if you're not afraid to let them entertain themselves, or to stop when they need your attention. It can be done--just as easily as blogging with kids. The presence of children does not preclude intellectual activity. Conferences are rare, but can be turned into family vacations, with the other spouse filling in time gaps while the attendee is in sessions. Or if not, what's a weekend away once a year? Not too traumatic. (But don't--for God's sake DON'T--breastfeed in an MLA session!! I can't remember the name of the audacious academic who pulled that "stunt," but I have it on good authority--good feminist authority--that one simply can not do that!!--The horrors!!)

I have been asked point-blank if my children are in day-care. I have said no. And I have been asked how I get any work done. I have been told about the impossibilities of working on anything with (a) child(ren) around--all by other women. All by my peers. And I have been doing this for 10 years. Well, unless you count all that time when I was living at home with 5 siblings helping my mom go to school while I was an undergraduate. In that case, I've been doing it much longer. I have not asked how they afford 40-hour child care. I don't want to know. I can't, and I really don't want to try. But I am a fairly lone figure pushing my stroller on a regular basis through the halls of the department. My children are well known by all who see them--and this has been my modus operandi since I stepped into the building almost (God help me!) 8 years ago. Others have their children with them sometimes, but only occasionally, whether to show off, or because of a school/daycare holiday, or illness. But I maintain that it doesn't really have to be like this. Children don't have to be relegated to the care of others. It all depends on our perception of where they belong, with what they interfere. Truly--I believe it is a matter of perception. And that's where I think feminism has some part to play. Unless one wants to say that it could have a pro-child part to play but doesn't. But the idea that children, who once were the responsibility of women but need not be, should be relegated to other spaces to make room for women's own goals, needs, desires, whatever, certainly is something that feminism has fought hard to achieve.

Women in academia are supposed to be feminist. No one will dispute that. It's one of those "well, she's intelligent, so she must agree with this. . ." These assumptions run rampant through academia. The assumptions that children are a burden, make life difficult, and should be relegated to a space apart from one's career are assumptions that accompany women's presence in the workplace. While some may disagree, this is rare. I have known professors to keep their children in after-care daily rather than have them at home with the parents (both academics) when the parents' schedules ended earlier than a 5 P.M. day. I have seen children kept in child care situations "just in case" meetings or other activities should come up. On the other hand, I have met two academics--a single father and a mother (possibly separated--I'm not sure) who, in their early days of tenure-track, brought their children with them to class, office hours, after hours situations. These are the professors I admire, as they balanced their career goals and their family goals, standing up for their children's rights to exist, to exist in public, and to be with their parents. What may have been borne of difficult situations turned into triumph for all involved. And we just need to acknowledge that children can co-exist with parental ambition, and that difficult situations involving children can turn into occasions of triumph. But does feminism teach this, really?

It's always nice. . .

. . .when, after a mostly disappointing semester, one of the best students in the class (not a perfect writer, but with a lot of native intelligence and a will to learn) sits down and takes the time to tell you that he feels like the class really helped his writing, and that certain types of assignments helped in particular with his tendency to procrastinate. He seems to have enjoyed the class well enough (for a required class)--overall he was very positive--and says he will come back by to visit. Considering the number of times I have second-guessed myself this semester, these were nice things to hear. I am not the most devoted of teachers, I fear. I will make a good slacker-professor someday. I tend to start off the semester with a measure of ambition and enthusiasm, which wanes just before midway in the semester. (See the Reasons I Don't Homeschool post!) Of course, it is better with some classes, and this class just had a weird dynamic--or rather, no dynamic. Anyway, it's over. And it's nice to have a measure of appreciation even during an "off" semester!

Cat's out of the bag. . .

That was the subject of the email that I sent to my dissertation director after the graduate coordinator told him my news--before I did--for the second time!! That's what I get for being cautious! I wasn't intentionally not telling him that I was pregnant, but I wasn't telling anyone yet. I like to wait until close to the second trimester, just for my own peace of mind. I told the graduate coordinator--who has been less than supportive of late--mainly because I was worried about the implications for my fall teaching assignment. If I deliver in early November, I will have a month left of teaching--and probably 2 writing projects to collect. If the baby comes early, as my last did, I will have much more class time to try to fill either by distance or proxy.

While the grad coordinator has not been particularly supportive to others, she did not say anything to me. Of course, I told her via email, I used the "unexpectedly pregnant" phrase, and I did not really ask for much. Still, she seems to feel the need to inform every newly pregnant graduate student (myself excluded) of her own choices with regard to family and profession. What is interesting about that is that her choices were shaped not only by a different "wave" of feminism--and, consequently, by a different perception of the effect of motherhood on a woman's autonomy, but also by a different academic climate--arguably one that was less friendly toward women and families than the current academic climate, whatever statistics and surveys (which typically survey those who are of the same generation as the graduate coordinator in question) may say to the contrary. Of course, one's expectation for the intermingling of family life and academic career depend greatly on one's goals for placement. I have never aspired to the Research 1 university. I think I can publish just as much with less pressure at a second tier university. Madam Grad Coordinator hails from one of the top ranked R1 universities--at least an initial postdoc or non-tenure, and considered herself a pretty radical feminist at one point. These things leave a mark on one's consciousness, even if one ends up at a Texas public university with delusions of grandeur (the university, not the professor).

The climate among the graduate students is overwhelmingly supportive. It's true that the department "baby boom" is a bit amusing from a certain standpoint--I mean, from when I entered the program until the first baby in the recent sequence--a little over two years ago--only one graduate student became pregnant (and only one faculty member, but that was quite a different situation), and she came into the program married and had 2 children (and 10 years on me) by the time I met her. She was the anomaly--even beyond an "exception." Quite a different story now! It's wonderful to have the support of other grad student moms--even if it is only expressed indirectly, or by a brief acknowledgment of a common situation. However, I am finding it to be much more. Today at a baby shower, I had one grad student offer to take one or more of my class sessions in the fall after the baby comes. This was completely unexpected! I admit, I thought I would have to make arrangements for myself and wing it as best I could. In a way, I guess I thought that by figuring things out for myself, perhaps in consultation with Grad Coordinator (and, it turns out, dissertation-director-soon-to-be-department-head), I would be preparing myself for when I actually have a tenure-track job. The line of reasoning lies something like this: well, without artificial birth control, "oopses" happen; in academia, there is no such thing as "maternity leave" (unless one happens to be working on a book and eligible for a sabbatical, but then one has to produce a book and a baby); thus, when "oopses" happen, if one still wants a paycheck, one must teach and use available resources (in this case, electronic) to make it happen. I did not quite consider that colleagues are, indeed, resources!

The above rationale is a distinct departure from my attitude toward pregnancy-and-baby-number-two. Since I had actually, consciously decided to have a baby, I felt, somehow, that I should be able to take time off and devote time and effort to the pregnancy and the baby to the exclusion of all else. As it turned out, I was able to take a rather nice break from working, but family and natural disasters prevented this break from being as baby-focused as I had imagined. This time, I have a very "life goes on" attitude--which sounds harsh, but which doesn't exclude joy or appreciation of the new life beginning! It's merely a more practical and realistic (and hopefully productive) approach to the whole school-work- baby process. It's similar to the attitude I had when I was pregnant for my first, only with my first it was a very "in your face" "see what I can do and have a baby too?" kind of attitude. I was proving something that I believed in--that life did not cease in any sense with pregnancy. It's a firm belief of mine, and a recurring theme on the blog, I think. Call it a reaction against "The Awakening"--a text I have always despised. At any rate, I hope the "hurry up and finish before the baby comes" urge kicks in instead of the "sit back and wait for baby," because I really would like to graduate sometime this decade! (Things are looking good for a May 2008 graduation. Shhhh! Don't tell the student loan companies!)

So with the cat out of the bag to the faculty (or the two who matter most), the cat came further out of the bag last Sunday, when I told my oldest, who is 10. I had been waiting to tell him, because of the usual reasons, but also because I just didn't quite know how to tell him. Imagine being nervous about telling a 10-year-old about a pregnancy! I knew he would be excited, I just didn't quite know how to approach the subject. Well, we were having dinner with a friend of ours who is a deacon and baptized both our son and daughter, and who will baptize our new one, and he mentioned baptizing our new one, and how it will be the most children he has baptized from the same family. Our son perked up a bit at this, but remained quiet. At home, he started to ask, but dismissed it as something he didn't quite understand. Later that evening, we explained the remark, and told him that he would have a new sibling. He burst into tears!! He was so happy! (It also rather explained why I've been tired and nauseous--a real cause of concern to him--for several weeks!) He then told my youngest brother, who is 2 1/2 years older than my son, and is crazy about little babies.

At the baby shower today (a grad-student affair), there was baby talk all around, so a few new people learned the "secret." All good. Now for the 18-month-old. . . Hmmm. . .

Opportunities for Dialogue

Thanks to the comment she posted on my blog, I discovered blogger Entropy's "Sphere of Influence," which raises a lot of good, Catholic questions. It is refreshing to see a blogger really engaging with issues of faith, including asking questions when questions need to be asked and seeking faithful answers. I am engaged at present with her questions for Traditionalists, on which post I have been embarrassingly outspoken. She asks and answers some good questions about Virginity in a slightly older post, and I have found any number of probing discussions by browsing around a bit.

In a more academic mode, I was able to engage with fellow grad-students & professors to give input about the standard syllabus for Freshman Composition--the bane of every incoming Freshman (who didn't test out) and the 2nd year grad students who have to teach it. My gripe--teaching a novel for one of the major papers when they haven't even learned what they need to about writing yet, and won't with the distraction of "Argument as Literature" or "Arguing about Literature." Introducing the novel to the course was part of a two-fold effort to engage the university with a community reading project and pacify grad students who wanted to be teaching literature. I would rather be teaching literature (except that it requires more prep work that I won't need with a new baby on the way and I'm finally fairly happy with my syllabus for the first time in 6 years of teaching). But pretending that a writing course can accommodate literature and all of its assorted teaching baggage--er, difficulties--strikes me as a little naive. Besides that the novels in question were not particularly compelling to me personally, and it's never fun to teach someone else's "pet issues." Sure, one involved literacy, but from the perspective of literacy-acquisition and racial injustice, which is not where I'm coming from at all, though it is interesting in its own right. So we discussed the issue of teaching a book, the particular writing assignments, and some general strategies for improving classroom interaction. All good.

After this meeting, there was a brainstorming session for the 4C's conference (College Composition and Communication), which will be in New Orleans next year and I need an easy-to-get-to conference on my cv. Being on home turf is always a good thing, especially since the family could come with me and I hate traveling alone (which would not be an option anyway since I will have a 4-month-old!). So we talked about possible panels and it looks like we will be organizing one around the people who are working with literacy theory. One person is doing literacy acquisition narratives, one is doing technology & literacy, and I am doing literacy as portrayed in literature. I was informed of an article that intersects somewhat with what I am doing--even down to the time period. Also, I was able to explain--in rather more detail than I expected, after being asked to elaborate--what I am writing about for the dissertation. This had the happy result of making me think about what I was doing. An hour or so later, in Cheddar's, we ran into a former professor of my husband's, who also asked for the dissertation-in-a-nutshell, and giving the quick & dirty account of one's research project is always a beneficial thing. So I find myself slightly more interested in thinking about work than usual--all in time to prepare for tomorrow's class. Oh well. That's how it works! But at least it will be a workshop-y class, which I advocated at the meeting today and which seem productive for my class this semester. Those classes have much less prep than the ones in which I really have to teach something.

Interesting that these on-campus meetings were possible because my son was home (he had a cold, but wouldn't have been going to school anyway). Otherwise, I would have missed the first meeting, which began at 3. I realize that I need a bit more of this talking-to-people about academic stuff. It's just a pain to drag myself to the meetings to interact with people. I need to work on that. Did you notice "sloth" as one of my major sins?

"It's Just a Catholic Thing" (?) in the Professions

A few months after my daughter (now 16 months) was born, I had her with me in my department, likely for a meeting with my dissertation adviser. A professor whom I had never met saw me, and, being an outgoing, friendly type, he proceeded to tell me about his daughter who was expecting, to tell me that two children is sufficient because that's one for each knee, and a number of other things that I have now forgotten. He asked me if I had any other children, and, as I responded affirmatively, he asked slyly, "They're not Irish twins, are they?" Now, I thought cluelessly, my husband is part Irish, but I'm not. Obviously, I had no idea what Irish twins are. Asked to explain, he informed me that Irish twins were siblings born within one year--which, of course, would be unlikely given the likelihood that impoverished Irish Catholics (he wasn't talking about Orangemen, after all) would be breastfed. A few minutes later, he repeated the joke for the benefit of my officemate, herself raised Catholic, and we agreed with good-natured disapproval that this was a thinly-veiled Catholic joke.

The joke evokes nineteenth-century immigrants with families of 5-12 children, overworked women, shabby brown clothing, tenement housing, clothes lines--you get the picture. So my question is, how do contemporary intellectual Catholic women deal with such a situation? Over the past couple of years, I have had at least three friends ask themselves this question in one way or another. All were working, one a Ph.D. student. Two were using NFP and one not. In these situations, "oops-s" or "what the heck" moments inevitably happen. So then what? One friend had been married for long enough that she could easily pass it off as "we've been trying" or "we were ready," or whatever. One friend decided that since she had been married for less than a year and people had just given her presents, she would ask not to have a baby shower.

This question comes to mind for a couple of reasons. First, well, people ask the most audacious questions! When I was pregnant last, the father of one of my son's friends from school saw us in Target, expressed surprise, and asked, "Were you trying, or was this a surprise?" One of the aforementioned friends remarked, as we discussed similar such remarks, "Do they realize that they're asking you whether you're having sex?"

O.K., so people are nosey. But it goes beyond that. In certain circles, it is just the unspoken rule that you should space your children according to your career goals. Hence, one female professor mentioning that her youngest was her "tenure baby," though it was unclear if he was the result of the celebrating, or her award for accomplishing the task! Within a year of my entering the M.A. program, one of my professors had her "last chance" baby, and two months after I had my daughter, my almost-adviser had her post-tenure baby. Others waited--and advised their grad students to wait--not until tenure, but until getting the tenure-track job. Recently, the female grad students in the department have decided that A.B.D. is a convenient time to have children, a decision I support wholeheartedly, obviously! But there is still somewhat of an unspoken consensus that children are to be spaced rather further apart that one to two years. While my "spacing"--a new baby with a 7-year-old--drew attention from a school dad (also a professional, incidently, but a professional father), spacing children every two years (considered ideal by those who are actively growing their families) is a professional faux pas. So what about Catholic professional/academic mothers?

Some, of course, believe that these terms are contradictory, and I could point you to the blogs to prove it. My friend who works at a Catholic high school has been condescendingly treated to the casual assumption that she would not be returning to work--EVER--by her colleagues for the last several months. But the role of Catholic women in the family is not my purpose for this post. Rather, I am embarrassed to admit that popular opinion is my concern.

Morality and Church teaching aside (though very much bound up with this post, as I hope is obvious), "accidents" are for teenagers, low-income households, minorities, and Catholics? All of these are stereotypes, but stereotypes which the average enlightened intellectual holds in the deep recesses of her politically correct heart. Just look at Amanda Marcotte.

This begs the question. . . Do married Catholic women really not belong in the workplace? This question is rhetorical. I do not expect an answer. Rather I am using the question to imply its answer--that of course married Catholic women belong in the workplace, if they so choose! So then, what about the "oops" factor? NFP "works," but people have different levels of resistance, and error and the Will of God are always factors! ;) Perhaps married Catholic females belong in the workplace to enlighten the masses, and should cling to the beatitudes for encouragement: that those who suffer mockery in the name of holiness will have their reward. But if asked, "You're pregnant again?" that's hardly an answer that will satisfy the average enlightened intellectual, provided the discussion occurs openly rather than in a series of sneers and snickers (yes, I am hard on my fellow academics). I have even encountered resistance to the motherhood-academic combination in Catholic academic circles (circles formed to discuss the intersection of faith and professional life!), so how much more should secular academics resist the Catholic academic's attempt to live her marriage faithfully, understanding its possible consequences (blessings)?

Large families and accidents--Catholic stereotypes both. Neither FEMLA, nor tenure procedures, nor enlightened liberalism allows for those realities. I don't know the answer, and I hate a cliff-hanger post. I further hate admitting that the sneering disturbs me. But it does. So while married professional women wait to reproduce until they reach their goals, what does the Catholic woman do? Stay home? Or not marry until after tenure/promotion?

Canonization and "the Canon"

While doing some research on Virginia Woolf for the dissertation recently, I ran across the following quote. It comes from Plain and Ordinary Things: Reading Women in the Writing Classroom by Deborah Anne Dooley. Discussing Welty's story "A Worn Path," Dooley writes, "In her rewriting of the Christian myth, Welty's heroine sings a story that no nation will make its epic, no literary high priest will canonize" (Dooley 90). What struck me was the final phrase: "no literary high priest will canonize." For all the discussion in English departments about the "canon," in spite of the fact that I am familiar with the concept of canonization of saints, I had never considered the relationship between the two words. How did this slip the notice of those who have sought to do away with the canon and combat the forces of patriarchy in the academy?

I confess to being rather attached to the more-or-less traditional canon, supplemented by those works of demonstrable worth, or at least moderate compelling content, that have been rediscovered by valiant scholars on their way to tenure (the "valiant" is meant to be only slightly tongue-in-cheek, as I respect any sincere efforts to promote a favored or admired text). After all, can one study the English Romantics without discussing Blake, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, and Keats? Perhaps. But the definition of "Romanticism" (in English) would be severely lacking without reference to these names. Start with Germany, and the situation is quite different. Romanticism is an international movement, so it is a fitting example. Only once you have established the context that others were working in reference to--or against--is it possible to understand the excluded or the dissenters. So much for my reason for wanting to uphold the traditional canon. I should also mention that many who talk about getting rid of the canon merely mean the supplementing of a new set of texts for the old--not dissolving the canon, but overthrowing it. The canon is in a constant state of flux, incidently. Not an English major I know has had to read Hemmingway for decades, and D. H. Lawrence and E. M. Forster are similarly scarce.

However, in the discussions of "the canon" or the "literary canon," which are less about what to value than what to teach, no one has mentioned the root of the word--or the word of which "canon" is the root.

From WordNet, "canon" refers to

• a rule or especially body of rules or principles generally established as valid and fundamental in a field or art or philosophy; "the neoclassical canon"; "canons of polite society"
• a priest who is a member of a cathedral chapter
• canyon: a ravine formed by a river in an area with little rainfall
• a contrapuntal piece of music in which a melody in one part is imitated exactly in other parts
• a complete list of saints that have been recognized by the Roman Catholic Church
• a collection of books accepted as holy scripture especially the books of the Bible recognized by any Christian church as genuine and inspired

So, in our secular academics, we adopt this religiously charged term. Our canon is our collection of sacred texts. When we hold authors up as "courseworthy," we are granting them sainthood. They are our aid to worship, our models for the holy literary life, those who demonstrate the fullness of grace, those who occupy the blessed realm--which further begs the question, is the classroom really the blessed realm for academics?

But before I have too much fun with this, let me mention a short story by E. M. Forster, "The Celestial Omnibus" (PDF available here). In this story, a boy takes an omnibus "to heaven," which is populated by various literary figures. He gets along well with all of them, preferring the "homey" figures to the more exalted, like Dante. When he brings an unbelieving literary friend to the heaven, he is scolded for his bad taste. The boy triumphs while the literary "snob" falls. With all of the things Forster does in this story, he also manages to tap into the real implication of the literary "canon." Brilliant!

Housewife, Peasant woman, or Academic mom?

The current generation of working women is still rebelling against the housewife-image perfected by the Donna Reed and June Cleaver generation. I firmly believe this to be true. Feminism was founded on a rejection of the domestic standards upheld by the women who are no longer our mothers, but perhaps now our grandmothers. However, having lost touch with the actual experience of that familial life, are we rebelling against an idea that is hollow--the TV sitcom version of the dutiful wife/mother--or is there any remaining offense to be had?

Consider this. . . The woman of the 40's and 50's was an updated "angel of the house," if you will. She was the ruler of the domestic sphere, until her husband returned from work to find his steak and mashed potatoes on the table. She cooked and cleaned, shopped on a budget, raised children, and perhaps not much else. Who knows anymore? She was the apple of the eye of product developers and advertising agencies. More commercials and products were geared to this woman than to any single consumer today. Well, no. Children are the number one target today, and what does that say about who runs the household? But you take my point. We look at her full skirts and her plastic smile and listen to the Stones' "Mother's Little Helper" to understand all that was wrong with our perfect image of her. Of course, my generation doesn't really have an image of her that is separate from the criticism. She is not my grandmother, though they were contemporaries and share some of the same problems. And so I, also, reject this image, as I have been taught.

During (and perhaps immediately after) my younger child was born in the autumn of 2005, my dissertation adviser (and friend and confidant) had a running joke about me--that I was one of those "peasant women" who give birth in the field, then strap the baby to their backs and keep working. Strictly speaking, this is not true, though it was great for a chuckle. I emphatically did not want to, or, more accurately perhaps, feel that I should have to work in the months immediately after my baby was born. It turns out that I did not merely stay at home and bond with my baby, but that's another tale. . . I have colleagues who were in the classroom within weeks of giving birth. I freely admit that I could not have done this! Instead, I waited through October, November, and December, took on a less-demanding-than-teaching assistantship, and eased back into teaching in the summer and fall. I also took a class on professionalism in the fall.

I have heard and read many discussions recently about childcare, from a friend who is confused & vexed, a blogger whose husband became distressed after she recovered somewhat from first-time daycare blues, from a committed stay-at-home blogger mom lamenting "outsourced motherhood."

[An aside: my 15-month-old just dialed a play phone, help it to her ear, and said "bye bye" before the recorded voice!! Cute!!]

My own experience with childcare is limited. My husband & I did not put our son in any form of child care until he was 3; rather, we "swapped" child care duties literally between graduate classes. Until after kindergarten, which he attended part time, one of us was with him for most of the day. Last August I sincerely tried to place my baby in a church mother's-day-out program one day a week, but after two days of observation/trial, I simply could not. I just do not trust others with my baby--both for emotional and hygienic reasons. We both became very ill after that day of observation, which did nothing for my resolve or self-confidence.

[Just changed a diaper and had my daughter take 3 steps to me!]

Working-woman daycare culture is clearly not for me. However, while I have arranged the past 2 semesters so that I could stay with my daughter during the day and teach in the evenings, when she could be with Daddy, I can not identify myself as a "stay-at-home mom." I criticize both camps, perhaps too freely. That's not my purpose here, however.

It is ingrained in my consciousness that a mother needs to take care of herself while taking care of her children, insofar as it is possible to do both. In spite of extremely difficult situations, including a stretch as a single mother of me and a marriage that was even worse than the first, my mother managed to raise 6 children to believe that taking care of children is valuable, and that one can accomplish a great deal while doing so.

We have a rather unhealthy dichotomy in our contemporary conception of motherhood--a word that good feminists would avoid because it connotes an identity rather than an act--"working mother" is set in opposition to "stay-at-home mom." These terms are interesting in themselves, as "mother" lends more of an air of seriousness to the former situation than the less formal "mom." Hmmmm. . . Of course, working part-time in order to parent also connotes certain personal and financial sacrifices for family. I am aware of a married couple who divorced due to their conflict over whose career was more important. No children without compromise! For me, academia, perhaps grad school in particular! offers a reasonable compromise between these competing versions of motherhood. And dual academic careers are ideal.

But I wanted to think again about the 1940s housewife and the "peasant woman." We base our rejection of "traditional" motherhood on the former, but include the latter in our conceptualization of oppressed women of previous generations who had no choice but to bear children, etc. We differ because we have autonomy, can choose careers, can choose to mother, the possibilities are endless! But are our choices presented fairly? Are we always sacrificing something that the other choice offers? Two roads diverged, and all that. . . I choose to multitask--to work with a baby at my feet (not on my back!). I take care of her; she is mine; I am mine.