Admitting defeat

I think it's time to face facts.  I probably won't be continuing as an adjunct past this semester.  This makes me terribly sad.  It was fulfilling.  It gave me purpose.  It made me feel important.  It was exciting to develop the activities and search for the extra resources (because I'm not a fan of the textbook resources) and exciting to know that the students were learning, or were making connections, or at the very least, were enjoying the activities and literature.  But as the semester wears on, I have to face facts.  I'm terribly behind.  The level of instruction is sub-par.  And I don't have time to even read the material that I'm teaching because of the 40-hour job, exhaustion, illness (mine), travel (someone else's), grading, and, you know, regular meals and such.  Note that I did not say housework.

Perhaps it's because I made the test too long. I'm grading it question by question and it simply goes on forever.  Because I'm knee-deep in exams (which I don't even think should exist in online courses), I haven't spent as much time interacting with students through the weekly online activities, which means that I miss the learning.  I have a really interesting assignment "out there" that I haven't been able to look at--casting Everyman with conteporary actors.  Perhaps when the exam dust settles I will have time. I only have 6 more questions to grade for each student, but this week has not let me breathe.  In the meantime, I should be posting the assignments for King Lear, and I simply don't have any.  The only reason I'm even teaching Lear is because it's in the textbook and we have to do Shakespeare.  There is another play, but it's a Comedy.  I have a trio of "serious" plays that I'm teaching, so Lear it is.  I like Lear.  A lot.  But so much of this course material seems wasted on an online class.  So in spite of the stimulation, there's a lot of discouragement and feeling that I'm simply not performing up to par.

In life right now... well, I've had a lot going on as well.  Three classes in the past two weeks, one of them new and one of them rather demanding.  Plus, I have been prepping for a conference presentation that was yesterday.  While these things happen at work (8-5), they affect my intellectual energy (and actual energy) when I get home.  These classes have left me feeling overwhelmed--the last thing I want to do is come home and engage with online class activities.  Well, that's not entirely true.  But I need some decompression time that I never seem to get.   Particularly this week, when my husband is traveling for the high profile part of his job.  *sigh*  I have been feeling that this position is for someone older, with grown children, or better paid, with a trophy (second) wife who doesn't work.  Certainly not for a family man with young children and a wife who would like to make a career for herself one day, and keeps struggling in that direction in spite of failure and setbacks.  And when my helpful teenager goes off to college... I don't even want to think about it.  Then, I will feel really alone when these trips happen.

It is just too much.  I'm not sure the happiness I gain is worth the cost.  But... I still don't think teaching online is the problem.  The problem is being a full-time 40-hr employee somewhere and teaching as an extra.  Because it's not a hobby. I joked that it was, but you can't truly make a passion for your job into a hobby.  It demands too much time and energy because you want to do it.  And then you can't.  And sadly, I don't think I can.

The Frustrations of Being Scheduled

Today, I'm reeling from the chaos of the weekend.  One of the side-effects of adjuncting is that I have to make time for myself to work.  Or, rather, I have to scehdule myself non-negotiable times to work which then bleed into every aspect of my life when I'm not working my 40-hour job.  I actually rather like sponteneity.  But now, it seems, in order for me to feel like I've done what I need to do for the day... or evening... or weekend... I need to stick (at least partially) to my schedule.  And I hate it.  Becuase when I don't get off on the right foot, I feel utterly dissatisfied.  Enter the weekend.

I have no idea what Friday looked like.  I can't remember that far back.  I think there were fish sticks involved.  Ah yes--Friday.  The day I did not leave the office for lunch, making me feel like I didn't accomplish a thing all day.  A good start.  Last week was pretty busy at work-work, and I have everything to grade, from the last thing we covered before the first exam (Chaucer) to the exam itself, which I am grading question by question instead of exam by exam.  I have realized in so doing that my exam was too long--for me, not for them--and that I need some objevtive questions:  nice, self-grading, multiple choice. After 4 or so grading sessions, I have finally whittled them down to 6 test questions left.

On Saturday, my daugther usually has archery practice.  This Saturday, she did not.  So everyone slept in.  The problem is that I have office hours at 10 A.M.--this is my "good start" to the weekend.  I guess I should have seen it coming.  I suppose I should have said explicitly--WAKE ME UP.  But I didn't.  So they let me sleep. It was a little bit gloomy and sort of cold, so I slept.  I woke at 10:42, realizing that I was well past the start of office hours--so why start now?  I went to the living room, was promptly pestered about the impending birthday party for a friend at 3 P.M., and went to bathe and get dressed.  We ate bagels and had coffee and then went to run errands, including the purchase of the party present.  Well, the errands were frustrating.  In one case, there was a startling encounter with a rude and crass person who made gestures that no one over the age of 15 should really make toward anyone, much less a harmless car full of strangers including two young children.  So... lovely.  By the time we went home, it was party time.  I did not go.  Rather, I stayed with the other two children and contemplated backing up my hard drive so that I could buy more RAM--which would make actually working on my 2011 MacBook Pro a possibility.  Failing to find the cords for the extrenal hard drive, I went to Best Buy and purchased a 64GB flash drive and the 8GB memory sticks for my computer.  Then I went back in Best Buy to get the sale price I had been promised hours earlier.  By the time I got home again, the birthday party attendees had returned.  My files finished transferring to the flash drive.  Begin part two of Saturday.

My husband occupies a visible position in an international scholarly initiative.  He is the face of his project, you might say.  And as I type, he is on his way to Mexico, all of which causes its own fits of angst.  But I am very proud of him, and the reputation he has gained, and because I wanted him to look the part, and because we finally sort of have the money for him to look the part (not that I'm not having retroactive hives a bit because of spending it), I suggested suit shopping.  And that took a couple of hours, but yeilded great results.  After that foray, we bought our third non-homecooked meal of the DAY (I hate that) and headed home, where the starving (well, not quite) children were.  We ate, I might have done something or other with a batch of clothes, and then the memory instillation happened. It was wonderful. Still is.  No problems.  Twice the RAM.  No more minute delay starting Microsoft Word.  I barely even noticed iPhoto trying to import photos from my phone.  A new era has begun.  And yet, you might notice that I still have not, at this point, done any actual work for my class.  This is what happens when I get off to the wrong start on Saturday.  And... frustration ensues.

So of course, I had to do work.  I had to.  And by this time, it was night.  Before, during, and after the girls went to bed, I worked on the class.  There was no prep for the religious ed--but that's a whole different matter.  And the result was that I was keyed up and didn't sleep well, which starts a whole cycle.

Sunday was cold and wet; religious ed.  Mass.  Both were fine, which is great.  An uneventful Sunday is a good Sunday.  We went to two different locations of our favorite chinese restaurant, and had some editorial comments by the staff on our seating choice (a booth) and our order (that's a lotta food--umm, yes).  Went home, and I'm not sure what else I did besides work on the class--grading, activities, grading, emailing a student who wanted more generic help on everything.  Oh yes!  I helped coordinate dress clothes options for my husband who was packing. I stopped working at midnight or so, and could do nothing else--I mean, I could have, but it was time for bed, as we would have to get up early to coordinate shuttles to catch flights and children to school and whatnot.   But having only one parent in the morning is hard.  Besides that on Sunday I started looking around and the chaos and realizing that with only one parent in the house, that chaos was MY chaos--and mine alone.  I think I just got moodier until bed.  And working up until bed is bad for me.

So now my week starts.  And it is a hectic week--one 2-day (6 hr) class to teach on Outlook, a presentation to give in between, no helpmeet.  And I feel like I did nothing during the weekend, because I didn't get off to the right start on Saturday.  And I gave up trashy romance novels (a recent guilty pleasure) for Lent.  So no escapism.  *sigh*  Oh, and I haven't written anything in over a week because I had the bright idea to revise the older novel instead of fleshing out the new.  Feeling so unproductive and busy and behind and frustrated and resentful.

Because I can't not be...

Lately, the conversation going on around me (online) has centered, to a large degree, on an article about the writer's life, and particularly, how writers treat, or lie about, the sources of income that allow them to write.  While this doesn't directly apply to me, it has spawned some conversation that does apply to me, and also some thought.

I am not a writer.  I mean, I am a writer.  I call myself "a compulsive writer in search of a subject," and that works for me rather nicely.  Sometimes, I have to write.  I am also a compulsive blog-creator, though I have two right now that are actually active.  I am also trying to put together a story (I guess you would call it a novel, but for now it's just a story), which means that I do sneak 10-minute intervals at lunch and sometimes at work.  But I have never deluded myself that I could make money by writing, even though I was an English major and seriously considered the creative writing "track" (which would have required a class on the history of the English language, and I wasn't up for that at the time).  Even now, the idea of writing fiction for profit seems laughable to me, although I know people who are doing it, trying to do it, or claiming to do it, as the case may be.  Each and every one of them does, in fact, have another source of income though, so the claims are dubious.

It might be because I grew up in New Orleans that I was never deluded about "making a living" as a writer.  I'm not sure that my crowd ever aspired to the kind of lifestyle that everyone seems to want these days--at least in Texas.  A modest house and the ability to eat and pay the bills while not working so hard you were miserable seemed to be what most of us wanted--except, of course, that we were also creative types who could not imagine living without writing or acting.  My English teachers never made it sound like writing for a living was a thing--creative writing or otherwise.  All of the writers I knew were teachers.  I never felt deluded for a moment, even when our junior English class attended the gala for the Pirate's Alley Faulkner Society as a reward for stuffing envelopes.  The writer's lifestyle was normal living and this, too.  But we were certainly encouraged to try.  And I have, though not with as much dedication as when I was an undergrad getting rejection slips from The Southern Review.  

So in New Orleans, which has a literary culture, I was never told that writing would or could or should be my life.  Frankly, I thought getting advanced degrees and teaching college was a much more practical plan that would still make time for include necessitate writing.  It might be that I was a poet--no one makes money from poetry.  Poets write poetry because poets have to write poetry.  I thought that was simply how it worked.  I am a writer because writers have to write and I have to write.  (No, that's not exactly a run-on.)  And, in a similar vein, I got a Ph.D. becuase I had to get a Ph.D.  Not because I was particularly... whatever people think.  It was simply something I had to do because I couldn't not do it.  (Not doing it would mean getting a real job, and I'm still not ready for that!)  I guess I feel sorry for starry-eyed people who think they can make a living writing novels (some do, but I would bet even fewer than those who land tenure track positions).  Except I don't really feel sorry for them because hello? Reality.  It's all around us.  People.  Working.  Again, I call myself a "cynical idealist."  This might be why.

So working to write.  I get that.  Having someone else working so that you can write.  I guess I get that, but to a lesser degree.  That kind of lifestyle requires more privilege than I have ever had, if only so that the bills that you have in order to have home and food and transportation are not greater than the one income, or to avoid massive student loan debt because there was help from other places.  It's not something I envy, it's simply something I didn't have.  And yes, I made the choice to have more student debt.  I don't really regret that either.

What I find strange and unsettling is that having a Ph.D., aspiring to make a living as an academic, whether or not one lands a tenure track job, is regarded as just as ridiculous as aspiring to make a living as a writer, if not more so since there's a glamour about writing, and academics are subject to more negative stereotypes in many corners.

What I also find strange and unsettling is that I'm a teacher--and I'm a teacher because I can't not teach.  Like being a writer.  Like when I thought I would be a poet.  And so I adjunct.  Which means that I have to have a day job.  Some adjuncts teach many classes at ALL of the colleges so that they can scrape together a living while retaining the purity of their pursuit.  These are the ones starving in the hedgerows and complaining about it.  I'm a scab.  A strikebreaker.  The one who goes to work while others are picketing outside.  Because I don't really need the pay, I rather feel as though I'm supporting a corrupt system that exploits the abundant overeducated labor force.  Writers don't really have to face that.  Writing is a glamorous, solitary occupation with a "high and lonely destiny." Teaching requires an infrastructure.  And I'm also an online teacher. For an online only branch campus that wants its online academic instructors to be adjunct only.  That's a whole different level of scabbiness.  But heck.  The adjunct-only adjuncts probably do more to support a system that keeps me (and themselves) out of teaching full time, simply because they're there to exploit, whereas I said no.  I would not be exploited.

So what I keep coming back to is this:  I am working full-time, not to support my writing habit, but to support my teaching habit.  My unglamorous, slightly suspect, scabby little teaching habit.  Because I'm a teacher, and teachers are compelled to teach.

Food for thought.

Adjuncting Week 2: Wearing down already?

My online British Literature class started last Tuesday.  This is week 2, but that's a little deceptive.  I have been working on this class all month, but now there are students and things to grade.  I look at myself, and I know that in spite of the excitement, I'm wearing down.

The ideal would be to have the new lessons/new material set up several weeks in advance--or since I am workign by "Topics" rather than "Weeks," a few Topics in advance.  But I didn't manage to get a head start because I was setting up the orientation and framework in an unfamiliar interface.  Still--I am on time, and since they're working at their own pace, and since Topic 1's deadlines aren't until next Monday, it's good that I have Topic 2 up and running.  If anyone legitimately wants to work ahead (and I have one who is trying to game the system by not reading and turning in b/s), they can do so.

My nerves are a little thin.  I turned to the blog after snapping at a friend on Facebook--and someone who tends to give me the benefit of the doubt--because I felt like I was being called out for being an obnoxious pain.  This followed a casual chat (ha) with a co-worker about a conference abstract we submitted that was heavily edited by our boss before submission and without my permission, that I now have to live with.  So that was definitely a contributing factor.

Here I am on a Monday, returning to work.  I have a project to work on, and a 6-hour Business Writing class (training session) that I do not want to teach tomorrow.  My weekend felt a little frenetic.  Heck, so did my week.  I get through my workdays now by looking forward to getting off of work--so that I can go home and work.  It's not ideal, even if it is a generally positive thing.

What's going on with the class is this:

• Students needed to complete orientation lessons, take a quiz, and post instructor and peer introductions by last Friday.
• I have followed up (or tried to follow up) with those who did not complete that lesson, or who completed the quiz with less than 90% correct.
• I have graded most of the introductions that have been submitted, and all of the quizzes.
• Students are working on the Old English Poetry topic (or unit).  They have another week to complete it.
• The Matter of Britain/Arthurian topic is up for those who are working ahead.
• I need to get the Chaucer unit ready to go (and I don't particularly like Chaucer).
• I want to compose a Week 2 Announcement that reviews what students should have accomplished/learned by now.

I am taking my time grading the Introductions because I feel like the introduction is an important place to establish a relationship with students by responding to their concerns and commenting on their goals.  It's time-consuming, but also rewarding.

My weekend felt like a lot of grading, which I did in many blocks.  It also involved a lot of emailing and entering zeroes.  I checked in with my good friend who is coaching me through this (even though it is not her job to do so) frequently. When I wasn't doing basic bookkeeping, I was reading and finding and typing quotations for a quote analysis exercise, formatting that worksheet, and posting it to the online course.  Although I thought that the topic was ready to go live early Sunday (It went live 12 A.M. on Monday), I realized after my girls were asleep (probably about 10:30 P.M.) that I had completely forgotten one of the key pieces I wanted to add--clips from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.  I had to find the clips, make sure they weren't internet fakes, and post them, then create the accompanying discussion board--all before cutting my husband's hair (which I like to do so that I have control over how short it is), bathing (to get off the cut hair), and going to bed.  

The weekend felt a bit out of control. In reality, I did things other than work on the class.  We got tires for our Highlander at SAM's and did some shopping.  I made some returns--two pairs of boots that I ordered online that did not fit and a pair of jeans that I ordered that were not supposed to be black--and bought some Origins for my son, who is trying to fight acne with minimal medical intervention.  We went to the vigil mass (so that we did not have to attend the parish at which I am co-teaching religious ed).  I drank two nice, dark beers--that's excessive for me.  I taught religious ed on Sunday morning--completely without prior preparation, as it turns out, because my co-teacher can't decide what our respective roles are or whether she is able to be responsible for the lesson consistently. We went to Target (as a family--which is how we do most things) and ate at McAlister's.  I folded many baskets of clothes because I knew that if I approached the computer, I would grade introductions, and the work I had already done had left me achy and bleary and fuzzy-headed.  But there seemed to be very little down time.  I didn't read anything recreational.

I mention the achiness.  I was dreadfully afraid that I was getting the flu, but I wasn't.  The constant working does seem to be taking its toll in a couple of ways, though, and I felt achy from Friday to Sunday.  I have also felt a teeny bit queasy every evening from Wednesday, when I had to get off the phone with my mom because I was not feeling well, to Sunday.  I do tend to get this way from being over-tired, and I have been forcing myself to keep going by means of caffeine.  Otherwise, my evenings had/would have been spent on the sofa with a book, curling up in my husband's shoulder and (often) falling asleep.  An extra cup of coffee is taking care of that.  And my stomach wants to protest a bit.  I might be getting some extra heart-palpitations--which had mainly gone away when I switched from brewing Starbucks coffee at home to Mystic Monk.

Yet--I can't deny that in a lot of ways, I'm happier.  I'm more creative.  I'm engaged.  I bought some notebooks to try to write a little of the story I started three years or so ago--at least during weekdays. My vocabulary is even a bit different.  But I miss my down-time.  And I feel behind with the class.  Stretched--too thin--like butter over too much bread.  But there are only so many hours in the day, and between 8 and 5, I'm forbidden to work on the class.

And that's how it stands at the beginning of Week 2.

A New Chapter: Adjuncting

After a recent academic job search disappointment, I wrote my last post--a letter to potential committees--and removed my half-baked attempt to synthesize my past life as an academic and my present life as an 8-to-5-er from the blog.  I don't know if I envisioned a fresh start or not, but here I am....

And it really is a fresh start.  It is a new year, and I have taken a brave and ambitious move into adjuncting--online adjuncting.  It suits me.  I like technology when it is working for me--not simply to play with it.  I like the idea of teaching a class that is self-paced.  I like being able to develop a class at leisure, if you will--without the "what will I do NOW, TODAY" pressure.  Not that I don't work well with that pressure, but I do find that if my emphasis is on the next class meeting, I am less likely to really develop the larger picture.  It's all about "do I lecture, or do I make them do stuff on their own?" Well, it's all on their own, and while there's the question of how I will convey the information that I feel is essential, there's not the pressure for me to perform it in front of a class--to know what to say and how to answer the question that someone will ask that I am unprepared to answer (though I still do that in my day job).

Don't Give Up Your Day Job

I know that I am in a pretty privileged position as an adjunct--and. . . that's okay with me.  This is the way to do it, really.  I guess I was never quite as idealistic as I assumed--or I like to eat.  One of the two.

I read an article today about a so-called "college professor" who is "highly educated" and yet can't make ends meet.  I read about these things all the time.  I admit that I feel a little more smug than I should--for all of my angst, I stand behind my decision to get a job that would allow my family a reasonable amount of comfort rather than running around in pursuit of adjunct positions.  Although I did have a couple of non-adjunct positions I could have taken,and would not technically have had to adjunct;  I still would have been earning less than I do in my full-time job, whatever the other benefits might have been (and clearly I wasn't convinced that those benefits would have been worth it).

Full-time adjuncting?  Yeah.  Sounds like hell to me. I'm afraid that adjuncting "on the side," almost as a--I laugh a little as I say it--hobby is really the way to do it.  And I was fortunate to find a school that needs its online adjuncts--more than I need them, as my friend who is a full-time faculty member of one of the college's branches tells me.

With the financial security of two good salaries--which, for the first time, bump us into a very interesting income-bracket--I almost forget that the school will be paying me.  That sounds terrible, doesn't it?  But the amount they're paying me would be highly insignificant if adjuncting was my only source of income.  It's still fairly insignificant, but in a different way.  And that's liberating.  I can focus on the parts I enjoy rather than the injustice of it all.

Working ALL. THE. TIME.

One of my deep reservations, and the reason that I have never pursued adjuncting before, even with a community college in the neighborhood (which is overwhelmed with a glut of grad students), is that I didn't necessarily absolutely didn't want to work all the time.  But I'm afraid it's starting.  The semester starts next Tuesday for the school that has hired me to teach (it's a strange and wonderful thing, after all of this time, to have a school hire me to teach).  Students are able to access the online course starting this week--this past Tuesday, in fact.  And while I am not obligated to have any content up for them this first non-week, a friend advised that the orientation lesson can (and probably should) go up so that they can start practicing navigating the online course.  So all of last week, last weekend, and all of this week, I worked my job, came home, and assembled or created the pieces of my class to meet deadlines.  It was....  a little exhilarating, actually.  Particularly the parts when I realize that I do know this stuff after all, or when I use my knowledge of technology (gained from my day job) to create something that I think will engage the students.  I have needed to up my coffee intake by adding a cup in the (early) evening.  I only drink one usually, so that's not too bad.  (Particularly when most adjuncts I know cope by drinking a different type of beverage...)

It will catch up with me.  Last night it was catching up with me a bit.  I didn't have the second cup of coffee. I was depressed because the new boots that I can afford ordered online didn't fit.  And I felt tired--so tired--and aware that I should be doing something for my class.  When I was going to bed, I remembered--I had done something for my class!!  I designed a "wrap-up" essay question for the Old English poetry section that synthesized the things I wanted them to watch/read.  So the evening was not quite a waste.

I also talked on the phone to my mom, and (earlier) listened to my daughter read her school reader (in Spanish, though I don't speak it--much).  The night before I felt bad because I didn't listen to her read.  I rather vehemently suggested that Daddy could listen to her read.  While I was just as likely to do so for any other reason--cooking, composing a blog post, or whatever--I didn't like doing it.  It felt more selfish to be putting her off for a second job that I didn't need to take for any reason other than my perverse failure to feel fulfilled by the other things I have in my life.  So that will take balance.  And one day, if I do achieve gainful academic employment, maybe I will have a summer month to spend with her and her sister.

On the other hand, the work doesn't always feel like work.  It feels like engagement--something that I miss completely in my day job.  I show up; I do stuff; I go home.  They pay me well and I work with some cool people.  But I have nothing to challenge my mind.  Even the things that should challenge me in that context are things that I find absolutely boring.  But packaging early British Lit--not easy stuff in a traditional classroom setting--for the web, and trying to maximize student engagement so that they actually take something away from the class?  That is a challenge worthy of me.

I have no illusions.  I will get tired.  I will get bogged down.  And inevitably, I will get behind.  The novelty will fade, and I will have two jobs.  Maybe.  On the other hand, I will be communicating online with people about literature.  And that's sort of what I do.  So maybe--just maybe--this will be a good thing.