Notes on Grading: Pacing Ourselves and Blind Submissions

In my current training position, I adminster two "certificate programs," which are a collection of classes that staff members take in order to develop a certain skill area.  The ones I administer develop basic competency in Microsoft Office and more general entry-level competencies for administrative professionals (software and soft skills).  The certificate program requires a final project which attempts to bring together and demonstrate the skills that were gained through the classes, while also providing an additional teaching opportunity, since unlike in the classroom, in the real world, a document is not finished until it is presentable.  Recently, speaking with the person who previously administered one of my certificate programs, I confessed to her that I was rarely ever busy, and she expressed a great deal of surprise:  she was always very busy with the certificate projects.  This puzzled me at first.  I don't get many projects at a time, and when I put my mind to it, I can get through the components and give feedback very quickly.  After all--there's no grade to put on the paper.  And then it occurred to me:  I am used to this.  Much more used to it than she was, since I taught writing, and had to give clear, focused feedback that stressed how to improve--even if the advice was never actually applied.

Thinking about grading, I remember it as the most odious task of teaching.  And yet, here I am, skimming quickly through these documents created for the certificate program, giving feedback, receiving resubmissions.  The one major difference is volume.  There are times, like now, when I do get all three parts of the project at one time, or components from three or four different certificate program participants.  But that's it.  And really?  It's not so bad.  I look through them.  I tell them what changes to make.  I send them back.  They get to them whenever they can.  This would be the ideal model for online distance learning, though of course I would have to assign grades at some point.  But then I wonder--if sitting back and giving feedback is relatively easy, what is it that made grading so odious?

The answer has to be the bulk of essays and the time pressure.  I hate to feel pressured, and yet it is necessary for me to feel pressured or I will accomplish nothing but blog posts or Facebook status updates--sad though that is to write.  So why not stagger deadlines or feedback sessions?  (Feedback sessions were my way of justifying particularly long turnaround times for graded papers.  Feedback on the previous paper and the grade would be given along with advice for the next paper during a session of office hours.  There would be a sign-up sheet.  Sometimes these would replace class for a couple of days.)

This stays with me.  Why do we grade papers in bulk?  It's the dominant method, but whom does it serve?  Not the instructor, who has this mountain of intimidation to face.  Even when I was interested in the topics, or looking forward to reading student responses to an assignment, anticipation of the grading marathon inevitably forced me to procrastination.

Does grading in bulk serve the students?  This is a harder question, because the grading inevitably becomes sloppier, the comments less helpful, the grades more arbitrary the deeper I get into the stack. And yet, I think one reason that we would not give out papers until everyone's paper had been graded was to maintain the semblence (illusion?) of fairness.  But their is always some bias.  The more workshops I attend on "subtle bias," and the longer I work in an office around people who are supposed to be aware of their biases, the more I conclude what I already believed--that bias is inevitable. Most of it, however, is personal.  There were students whose papers I graded harder, though I didn't mean to, because they were pushing my buttons in class, or because they thought they were smart, or because I knew (and I hated it when teachers did this to me) that they could do better.  Maybe I wasn't guilty of each one of these.  I certainly did what I could to avoid it, but sometimes perhaps only blind submissions would have prevented it.

Where I failed in grading was usually through the carelessness of exhanustion.  The last papers came after the previous papers, and looked either a lot better... or else a lot worse by comparison.  I was tired and weary of errors and repetition.  My handwriting got sloppy.  Inevitably, I had promised these grades by the next day and would catch hell or reproving glances if I did not deliver.  My feedback got thin or harsh.  And I probably didn't think as much about the grade, perhaps relying solely on my rubric to avoid the unclouded judgment that 2 A.M. (or 30 minutes before class) would not grant.

So given my insight, what would I do differently?  Well, for starters, I would like to see papers come in at a trickle rather than in bulk.  With a clear head and a clear idea of the objectives of the assignment and how to determine whether those objectives were met, I think the inconsistency of grading would take care of itself without having to "rank" papers and compare A to A and B to B and so on (which I never had time to do anyway, though that was the ideal).

But what about fairness and due dates?  In the real world, different people have different deadlines.  That's just the way of things.  You can't complain of fairness forever, because at some point it breaks down.  It could break down here, but there would be a lot of whining.  So let's randomize it.  Each student gets a number.  Numbers 1-5 turn in their papers on the first day.  Numbers 6-10 on the second day, and so on.  Numbers change with each paper assignment throughout the semester.

And while we're randomizing, keep your name off of your paper!  I'll record your name and number separately, and in the meantime, I will grade your paper blind.  I won't know whether you're a male writing a feminist paper, a light-skinned person writing about minority issues, a female writing a reactionary paper, and so on; I also won't know whether you're the one who sits up front with the sandals and the ingrown toenail or the smart-aleck who amuses me until you overstep the boundaries.  I won't know if you're the one who never says anything or the one who talks incessantly (to your fellow athletes) or texts while I'm talking.  And that will be for the better.  Unless you talk to me during office hourse about you're paper.  Then, I will know you--and that will be to your advantage. So really, it will be like an online class, or like the certificate projects.  I will grade gradually, as the papers come in, and I will know nothing about you, or will have forgotten everything I know.  So much for bias.

Now, about grading and returning papers--basically, workflow.  What would this look like?  Ideally, the grading would begin as the papers are submitted.  If 5 are submitted on Monday, those 5 should be read and comments written by Wednesday's class--or even by Tuesday.  If the grading stops, the papers pile up and the system doesn't work.  Since this system is based on an online process, it is well-suited to online feedback, though it could work with paper as well.  But stacks of papers bother me more than quantities of email, so I would eschew paper and opt for electronic communication.

And yes, classes go on, and someone still has to teach them.  But in between the classes are the office hours, when perhaps someone will grade me with their presence--but perhaps not.  And I will grade.  Because after all, when you're working 40-hours a week, you're pretty much expected to be productive while the clock is ticking.  There would certainly be additional opportunities for flexibility in an academic job as compared to an office job--grading/office hours in the library, for example.  The loss would be working in place.  The gain would be time to research or write, or do the more pleasurable parts of the job, like reading or prepping, or even *gasp* time to spend with friends and family outside of the grading-teaching time frame (whatever it might be).  This is how I would do it.

If it sounds rather like I would be tricking myself into doing work, that's probably accurate.  But might there be good pedagogical reasons for this approach?

Let's take grades.  So far, I have not mentioned them.  Grades could be assessed at the reading and commenting stage.  But why?  So that I would not have to read another round of the same papers? That is a compelling reason.  But it is not making use of the pedagogical potential of the writing assignment.  As I mentioned, the certificate projects are additional teaching and learning opportunities.  Because, while some people are able to make the leap and apply the concepts and use the tools that they have acquired--or even remember the information--most, in my experience, are not.  Why?  Because they are lost in their own minds, in their own obligations and job duties.  They sit through the classes.  They might pick up a thing or two.  But if, when they return to their desks, they do not use what they learned, they forget.  And so with students.  Particularly nontraditional students.

So let's make the first round a learning opportunity.  You submit.  I read.  I comment.  I make suggestions.  Corrections.  I am your boss.  This is what I want.  You comply, or you will not receive a good evaluation.  That is the bottom line.  But of course, you are expressing yourself, at least in part, so the liberal educator in me (liberal in the classical sense) will allow for that individual expression insofar as it represents a coherent part of the essay.  And then, you will show what you have learned.  And I will grade according to what I have seen and according to your final project.  I will assess your learning along with your paper.  You will move forward.  We will move forward together.  Ideally, you will receive your paper and your grade at a conference appointment, where we can discuss what else it might take for you to improve.  Outline goals.  Performance objectives.  Blending the workplace with the classroom.  Did you know that many human resources degrees are housed in education departments?

I've been working in a department under human resources for too long.  It may be that my ideas about teaching are becoming sanitized.  Certainly, I only have the leisure to think about this because I am *not* grading 75-150 papers at a time.  Undoubtedly.  But of the things that are wrong with teaching, I think the utter dread and resentment of grading is a big one.  Papers represent an opportunity to teach, and an opportunity to see into the minds of our students.  Everyone could stand to take them more seriously.  I also know that this model is better for those who are teaching 2-3 classes rather than 5-6.  But--isn't that true of every thorough, student-centered method?  Not the ones that are designed to take the pressure off the instructor under the guise of a decentered classroom.  You know the ones I mean.  And yet, I really am thinking about how I would like to do things.  I would make the workweek a little bit more like the 8-5 crowd, in order to get what I need to do done more efficiently.

Because you know what?  Right now, I would give just about anything to be sitting in an office grading 5 or 10 papers, preparing students for future successes and considering how their minds and their methods are developing in response to what I have set before them.  If I could fit that into my 8-5 day, and reflect at home on how I can improve the next day, or the next week, or the next semester... I would gladly be tied to an office 40 hours a week in service of my real vocation.

Discovering my "Strengths"

So my newest foray into introspection and self-analysis has been to take the "Discover Your Strengths" class offered by my department, which is based on the ideas of Donald O. Clifton, and the book Strengths Finder 2.0 by Tom Rath.  The book amounts to an explanation of the traits identified by the online quiz, which is not unlike the Myers-Briggs quizzes, but often presented pairs of choices that were difficult or simply didn't fit.  However, even with the "Neutral" responses I gave discounted, the results seemed pretty spot-on, and served to explain much of my frustration, and reinforce my opinions of what I want out of my work.

There are other factors, of course.  These "Strengths" are "Themes," and "Themes" are clusters of "Talents," which might be described as attributes, inclinations, or affinities.  Your "Strengths" derive from (or are developed by--the verbage is fuzzy) the application of Themes and result in near-perfection.  As far as I can see, most of mine are innate rather than something that can be developed through practice, but okay.  Being geared toward business, and in my setting, toward the development of nonacademic professionals and staff so that they can perform their jobs with more personal satisfaction to the benefit of the university (as cogs in a wheel), what's missing for me is the consideration of what motivates people.  Is the exercise of one of your "Themes" motivation in itself?  That seems to be the understanding and implication.  So while the upshot is to try to maximize your opportunity to do the things that use your strengths, the motivation seems to be "for the good of the department" or "to grow" in some nebulous sort of way.  Those don't work for me.  Putting myself in the service of others just for the sake of doing so, or to make money or be "part of the team" is not where I blossom--and my strengths sort of attest to that. They don't really lend themselves to utility.  Also, making more money by doing what I'm good at doesn't motivate me--so consulting for others, or using my problem solving to help others overcome their obstacles will only make me feel worse, because I'm using what I have for others' benefits.  Money is not a benefit in itself, particularly right now.

What strikes me in particular is that my particular strengths are the strength-set of someone higher in the heirarchy, or someone working in those free-flowing, idea-tossing work environments like Pixar and Google--or are the strengths of a self-motivated academic who doesn't have to wait for others in order to execute plans and ideas.  I do not work in the former environment, and I do not have the opporunity to be the latter.  Everything has to be ratified by someone here, and it takes 6 months or more.  Even a Facebook page.  By the time the opportunity comes around, I'm bored with the idea--or have realized that I can't tolerate the constraints imposed (like having someone approve every single Facebook post).

What drives me batty is that these "Strengths" or "Themes" are not the same parts of speech, and that some of them are not even real words.  If I were conceptualizing something, there would be an element of linguistic consistency!

Take a look.  I feel validated in one thing:  I am an idea person.  No one can take that away.  I can see different possible paths and outcomes--which sometimes leads to inaction.  I think deeply about things. Thinking fuels my ideas and helps me strategize--so those three are mutually reinforcing.  And I want to take action when I have an idea, and bring people along--so when I have to wait, I give up.  And when I can't get others involved or exceited, I get frustrated.  

Individualization is my favorite, because it takes me into the realm of understanding people rather than ideas and things.  It's right in the middle of my 5 strengths (which are drawn from 34 possible labels), and that seems significant somehow.  I have always admired people who are able to look at someone, understand their potential, and make things happen so that that person can grow and blossom, performing appropriate work that he or she finds interesting and significant.  I have wanted someone to do that for me, but no one ever has.  And now I know that I am that person.  All of the little things that I notice about people are a strength.  And I find that that validates something I believe in--the individuality and uniqueness of people.  It was a teaching strength--and since I have matured since I last taught an academic class, it might be more of one now.  You learn a lot working with staff.  So many faculty never learn to work with people.  I could really contribute a lot...

At the bottom of my five is the desire to make things happen--to get things started.  And considering my struggle with motivation, this might seem odd.  But I don't think so.  Motivation carries you through to the end.  Sometimes, I'm not interested in the end, because I can clearly see what it will or could be.  But mostly, when I have an idea, I want to stop everything and pursue it.  If I don't make it to the end, it's probably because there's nothing to tie me to the idea--no professional gain, no sense of being admired, of being heard, or being appreciated or valued, or of being any use to anyone.  That can be alienating, and can--and often does--take the wind out of my sails.  But it doesn't make me any less excited right at the start.  It just makes me move on or give up more quickly.

So yes, this is me, as much as my Myers-Briggs INFP is me, because that places me in the "starry-eyed dreamer" realm as well.  And this is why my greatest pleasure is to present ideas and see them take root in others and inspire them to have ideas of their own--my ideas interact with the unique qualities that others possess, and create something new.  I need to get back there someday.

Ideation®

People strong in the Ideation theme are fascinated by ideas. They are able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena.

StrategicTM

People strong in the Strategic theme create alternative ways to proceed. Faced with any given scenario, they can quickly spot the relevant patterns and issues.

Individualization®

People strong in the Individualization theme are intrigued with the unique qualities of each person. They have a gift for figuring out how people who are different can work together productively.

Intellection®

People strong in the Intellection theme are characterized by their intellectual activity. They are introspective and appreciate intellectual discussions.

Activator®

People strong in the Activator theme can make things happen by turning thoughts into action. They are often impatient.

Source: http://www.strengthstest.com/theme_summary.php

IDEATION

The genius of your Ideation talent begins with your love of ideas and the way you so

quickly learn new ideas, concepts, and principles. But you are not passive. It is as if you

take ideas and then begin spinning them around in your mind. With each new idea you

learn, you tend to think about it over and over—spinning it around with the many other

ideas you already have. The result of this thinking, turning, and spinning around of new

ideas with what you already know does two things. First, you generate new connections

and insights about ideas and their implications. Second, the spinning of your ideas often

results in new ideas. Therefore, the genius of the Ideation talent is the creativity of generating new ideas and insights as a result of contemplating and reviewing the ideas

you have learned.

STRATEGIC

The genius of your Strategic talent involves the way you think and generate alternatives.

When faced with a problem or a dilemma you can quickly generate multiple alternatives

to circumvent obstacles that prevent your progress. Sometimes you think in a backwards

manner by first visualizing the outcome you want to produce and then generating

multiple alternative paths to get to that objective. But your genius of Strategic doesn’t

simply begin and end with generating alternatives. The real genius of this strength is

found in the way that you can quickly sort through the various alternative paths and

determine the one that will work best and most efficiently.

INDIVIDUALIZATION

The genius of your Individualization talent is that you see each and every person and a

one of a kind, distinct individual. But more than that, you see the particular factors,

qualities, characteristics, thoughts, and perception that make each person distinct. You

see each person as a mosaic of highly individual factors each of which contribute to a

person’s distinctiveness. This includes both personal qualities and past events that have

formed the person. You are curious about their individual characteristics and you find

yourself thinking and asking questions about what makes each person so distinct. This

results in people feeling special and prized by your attention. But all of this simply lays a

foundation for the genius of your Individualization. Your genius is that armed with all of

this thinking and question asking, you attempt to interact with each person based on their

individual qualities. This leads to meaningful and very helpful relationships.

INTELLECTION

The genius of your Intellection talents stems from the quality of your thinking. You think

about ideas, concepts, and principles in great depth. It is as if you hold discussions in

your mind about ideas, concepts, observations, and new learnings. This results in deep

learning, deep understanding, and deep appreciation for the best knowledge. Out of this

deep processing, you often come to new insights and understandings. But the greatest

aspect of the genius of your intellection is the wisdom that you gain from your in-depth

thinking and internal discussions. You can think by yourself for hours, but never doubt

what results: wisdom, clarity, and a firm foundation for action planning and decision

making.

ACTIVATOR

The genius of your Activator talent begins with the concept of action. You want action

and you can make things happen. Most of all, the genius of your Activator talent gives

you the ability to see how to make things happen. Whereas others have ideas that only

swim around in their minds, you can quickly see how to turn ideas into actions, programs,

and services. This points to the greatest aspect of the genius of your Activator talent. You

are creative and very innovative. Finally, you have a tremendous amount of motivation,

energy, and personal power when it comes to taking an idea and then putting it into

action. You are particularly motivated to be innovative in turning your ideas into action,

programs, and services. You are a dynamo in turning ideas into actions that generate

revolutionary changes.
Source:  https://www.apu.edu/strengthsacademy/pdfs/genius_beauty_found_within.pdf

Applying Ideation Strengths in Careers

These observations and suggestions will help you consider careers that could best suit Ideation strengths. As you think them over, select those that apply to you best.

• Build on your creativity to find a career that encourages you to think freely and express your ideas.
• Find work in which others like your ideas and in which you are expected to keep learning.
• You will be able to find new and better ways of doing things within the organization.
• Select an organization where the leaders encourage and solicit your divergent thinking, stimulating them to consider some new approaches.

Applying Strategic Strengths in Careers

These observations and suggestions will help you consider careers that could best suit Strategic strengths. As you think them over, select those that apply to you best.

• Consider psychology, as it requires understanding situations and being able to discover or provide effective problem solving.
• A career in law may excite you, as it requires the use of logic to build cases and find creative and effective ways to present them.
• Choose careers that will allow you to be a leader and voice your ideas.
• List the various paths possible in your future so you can give careful thought to each one.
• Consider consulting. The question is, who do you want to consult with, and what do you want them to consult you about?

Applying Individualization Strengths in Careers

These observations and suggestions will help you consider careers that could best suit Individualization strengths. As you think them over, selectthose that apply to you best.

• A career in education would directly use your talents because you would value and treat each student as an individual.
• As a supervisor or manager, you would help individuals determine what they could do what they do best on a regular basis. Your evaluations would be based on who the person is and on what he or she had accomplished.
• Counseling could be a fulfilling role for you. Your ability to see people as distinct individuals will empower them and help them grow.
• Writing a novel would allow you to fully develop the uniqueness of each character.

Applying Intellection Strengths in Careers

These observations and suggestions will help you consider careers that could best suit Intellection strengths. As you think them over, select those that apply to you best.

• Choose work that will challenge you intellectually.
• Choose a work environment that matches your most productive thinking environment. If you think best when it’s quiet, choose a quiet work environment. If working with others stimulates your thinking, choose to work in a team environment.
• Select work where you can share ideas and pose questions.
• Look at careers in which you can interact with colleagues and have philosophical debates.

Applying Activator Strengths in Careers

These observations and suggestions will help you consider careers that could best suit Activator strengths. As you think them over, select those that apply to you best.

• Define what kind of leader you are. A thought leader? A giver of orders? A leader who gives the go-ahead signal? Large group leader?
• Small group leader? A leader with a mission? A profit leader? An athlete leader?
• Identify informal leadership roles within professions, companies, or departments into which you can step. Persuade coworkers that they can increase productivity, solve problems, launch programs, overcome obstacles, and bounce back from defeat.
• Find work that allows you to make your own decisions, and then act upon them.
• Consider becoming your own boss. Make of list of possible businesses you could start, grow, and sell once they show a profit. Understand that you will probably lose interest once an enterprise is so fine-tuned that it runs on its own. Recall how maintaining an operation has led to boredom in the past.
• Choose a career in which “actions speak louder than words” even though your words can propel people into action. Thoroughly research professions, organizations, and companies to identify the ones that are truly results-oriented.
• Understand that some supervisors and managers may feel threatened by your insistence on making decisions and acting without delay.

The Clifton StrengthsFinder and the 34 Clifton StrengthsFinder theme names are protected by copyright of Gallup Inc., 2000. All rights reserved.

Source: https://strengths.southmountaincc.edu/students-strengths/applying-talents-in-career-discovery/

Giving Ourselves Over... to Sleep

I find myself seeking out my old blog tonight, after a long, tired day, and a long, tired week, and two nights of lonely, broken sleep, fraught with listening.  I rarely sit and reflect on what I'm doing, or how I'm feeling and why.  Or I do, but not in a way that is productive--rather, my focus has, for a long time, been on what might have been my profession, and what has not gone as planned.  And when I have the rare thought, I am too tired, and chase it away.  But perhaps a certain type of exhaustion lends a bit of clarity...

The first time my husband went on a trip to Mexico, I wrote here about my joy on his return.  After four years have passed, many trips later, I still find his travel difficult, though differently so.  I confessed to him, and I'm afraid that it has not made his leaving any easier, that I find it difficult to decide to go to sleep when he is away.  It isn't exactly that I find it difficult to sleep... I simply don't want to take the definitive step in deciding to go to sleep.  It is sometimes like this when he is home as well, but I have him to obligate me to sleep.  I have my motivation, and my company.  In spite of being an introvert, I would rather sit in silence with him than without.  But there is more... I dislike being the last person awake in a house at night.

At night, when I am alone and awake, I hear noises.  On the first night he was gone this week, it was very windy.  When it became clear that my morning obligations were going to require me to submit to sleep, I brought a book to bed that I was too tired to read, and turned on a lamp in my bedroom.  Once there, I heard a creak, and thought, first, that my Doodle, now 8 with a bad head cold, had awoken.  So I walked our apartment, checking for waking children and opening doors.  But everything was as it should be; everyone in his or her bed.  So I returned to mine, this time checking email.  Again, I heard the creaking.  Again, I walked the hall and each room until I was sure that there was nothing wrong.  This happened maybe another time or two, and then I decided that the creaking was outside, likely the gate to our small yard, which should be closed tight, but had probably blown open from the wind.  It was logical, but not satisfying; I felt vulnerable.  In the morning, I discovered that it was not the gate at all.

The second night is always easier.  It's not that I get used to being alone at night.  Rather, I reassure myself more easily, and fall asleep more quickly, being tired from the first night.  Last night, I was tired.  I fell asleep shortly after turning on the television.  I fell back to sleep after my son said goodnight.  I missed a message from my husband.  Fortunately, I woke to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and then went to sleep.

Last night, there was a storm.  A regular gale, it whipped though the trees, and finally cut the power off.  A moment later, Doodle was coughing.  With my phone as a light, I found her in the next room, gave her water and medicine, and tucked her in.  Then, I lit the way for her to use the bathroom.  When I returned her to her bed, she was wide awake--and I was more so.  In a moment, her sister was disturbed, though not quire awake.  Both were somewhat troubled by the dark.  So I brought them with me.

I was, as always when I am worried about them, more relaxed with them near.  But I was even more relaxed once the electricity came on, and hour or more later, and slept soundly for two hours at least.  And here I am now, unusually awake, not letting myself drift until I am unable to think about hearing sounds in the house, not staying partially awake until the choice of whether or not to abandon control of my surroundings is no longer my own.

Tonight, my son stayed up with me, watching Clue.  When he was heading to bed, he, too, heard a creak.  It reminded me so much of myself that I smiled a bit.  There he was, checking outside.  Checking the front door.  Checking on his sisters.  All was well, as I knew it would be.

Sleep should not be fearful, but I do find it so.  To lose consciousness for those hours means relinquishing responsibility--not overseeing the house, abandoning the children to their own sleep, which we are taught from their infancy is a dangerous time.  When I go to sleep, again I feel that we are vulnerable.  It is, no doubt, a failure of trust--a failure to trust to God that the night and their sleep will continue, unwatched and unlistend-to by me.

But when I am not alone, it is different.  We decide, together, to abandon our spaces and our children to sleep.  It is a responsibility that must be shared--the responsibility of letting go.  I have never thought of sleep as an act of faith, but it is.  I have pondered, during these nights, the lines of the children's prayer, "if I should die before I wake..." which has seemed to me both morbid and historically accurate, but which seemed innocent to me as a child, and perhaps comforting.  Having more fear of death now, and people to protect, I do not find them as comforting, though they do still carry an innocence.  But they carry a deep wisdom: that giving ourselves over to sleep is an act of faith, a trust in God.  For me, I am not there yet.  It is a leap that I take best when accompanied by the one I love, whom I will see tomorrow.  Good night.

Teaching Literature and Writing with Meyers-Briggs

1962 - first published instrument

Personal narrative - a standard composition genre since when, exactly?

Problem with personal narrative is that there is no particular shape to the reflection; M-B can provide the shape

Also would work in lit to confront personal preference head on - blog assignments to reflect on how students engage with the text from a perspective of self-awareness informed by M-B

Fiction Book Club Selections for the Training Department

During a break in this morning's team meeting, I had a great idea.  Thinking about ways to bring what I love to our department, I thought--wow!  Wouldn't it be cool to have a book club!  Given the inclinations of the others in the department, though, I would have to find a way to make sure we didn't drift toward nonfiction.  I know!  We could arrange our selections thematically to correspond with the classes we teach, or topics we promote, or--even better!--to correspond with our "certificate programs," which bring everything together (classes, philosophy, whatever).  Unfortuately, when I started brainstorming, this is what happened:

• Web Design - Burning Chrome by William Gobson
• Desktop Publishing - The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot
• Personal Development - The Hunger Games trilogy
• Office Administration - "Bartleby, the Scrivener" by Herman Melville
• Diversity - Beloved by Toni Morrison
• Communication Styles - Ulysses by James Joyce; Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf; The Stranger by Albert Camus

Yeah... Perhaps I'll wait to propose this.  Indefinitely.

Doing What you Love. . . Or Not

Lately, this article has been circulating among my friends on Facebook.  Titled, "In the Name of Love" and printed first by Jacobin Magazine and then by Slate, the article is a timely response to the job market and unemployment crises.  It traces our job angst and the exploitation of professional labor to bad job advice--namely, "do what you love."

Blaming the individual for explotation is a "blaming the victim" model.


1. Graduate and professional programs and the workforce are full of people who are in it for the money.

2. Being saitisfied with your work is an ROI for employers--and not for the reasons you think.

In HR, we focus on knowing your strengths, and helping supervisors identify talent and nurture growth. Why?  Because even if the bottom line is not your fulfillment, a satisfied employee is a productive employee.

3.  Salaried office jobs are "salaried"--that is, non-hourly--to allow for the employee to work overtime without compensation in order to get projects done.  It's not just teachers and academics.


4. Doing what we love on our own time is great in theory, but rarely practical.


5. If we don't do what we love--or at least like--we allow work to kill our souls.

What about a vocation?
Isn't it a little socialist to just do what society requires of us?

--making a job out of what you love is not necessarily the problem--the problem is how you frame "doing what you love."

Lessons from the Staff Side: Faculty and Customer Service

Something I have been thinking more and more about since working in a cutomer-serving department, and in a training department that teaches--and requires--customer service--is the idea that faculty should consider what customer service actually means.  I do come from an academic background--a background to which I am still dearly attached, and I would love to bring it to the foreground if I could.  So I know how faculty bristle--how I used to bristle--at the suggestion that faculty are in any way providing customer service, or at the idea that students are in any way customers or consumers.

The first problem is that the "customer service" model is often misunderstood both by those promoting it for political reasons and those who are resisting it.  Students and their parents see a "customer service" model as meaning that education exists, and is provided to the student/customer, to serve the purpose designated by the student.  This is seriously misguided.  The customer, if customer they would be, must assess the service provider first to determine whether the service being offered meets his or her needs, and whether the service provider, in fact, is capable of delivering the product needed, particularly when there are other providers available.  The informed consumer does not go to a vegetarian restaurant and order steak, or to McDonald's and order Kobe beef or sushi.  If she shops for auto parts at Target or Kroger, she must be prepared to find their offerings severely limited.  If she goes to a hospital to get a pedicure, or to a salon to have an appendectomy, she will necessarily be disappointed.  The first step, then, is knowing what institutions of higher education claim to offer, and for what reason.  What are they, in fact, trying to do for the individual in general?  Individual professors support their own reserach missions and pedagogical theories, putting those in the service of the departmental mission, which in turn serves the overall mission of the institution, which might advance a statewide goal that is somehow tied to the legislature's goals for development of citizens in the case of a state university.  They are thus charged with delivering the product and service deemed appropriate by their institution, and they are given some freedom in how they interpret the delivery.  To drill down and say that a professor should not be burdoning students with nonultilitarian information because the student is a customer, and the professor should be giving the customer only what he needs is ludicrous.  Being a smart consumer means understanding what you are buying.

On the other hand, professors (used broadly here, because I think academics of all stripes, and lecturers, and faculty of universities and colleges alike take issue) balk at the idea that there is a "customer service model" of education.** And it is possible that I am not strictly speaking about a model of education, but an attitude.  So what does a faculty member hear when someone suggests that education should be seen in terms of customer service?  I would suggest, first, that they interpret the phrase in much the same way as the students, or else they recognize the students' and parents' assumptions and react against those.  Customer-service oriented education might seem inherently utilitarian, designed to prepare students in a very practical, focused way, for "real life," which usually translates into "getting a job."  Whatever the failings of educational curricula, putting education in the service of employment is not something I want to advocate--or even to address here.  The other implication is that "service" means slavish devotion to students.  Providing multiple opportunities to make the grade.  Extra extra credit.  Perhaps even certain types of lectures and exams.  As far as that goes, there are already huge initiatives to understand how students learn and to make efforts to design curricula, courses, assignments and even to restructure classrooms and redefine the teacher in order to maximize student learning.  This is everywhere.  Sometimes, it actually benefits the professor by removing the pressure for them to perform.  They become mediators and mentors--not at all a bad role, unless they become superfluous, replaced by monitors and mediators who are less expensive and require less maintenance.  There is some anxiety about this as tenure track disappears and adjuncts abound.  So in terms of methodology, "student centered" might as well mean "customer-service oriented."  The basic approach--taking the needs of those who are on the receiving end of the product or service into account--is the same.  Do students see this as customer service?  Not necessarily.  Will they make unreasonable demands in the name of customer service?  Absolutely.

I think that in terms of pedagogy, a customer-service orientation might mean focusing on the journey or process rather than the product.  In an age of measurable objectives, we focus on testing, testing, testing...  But those who train, or teach classes to blue-collar professions realize that not everyone tests well, and that sometimes the artificiality of a test is not the best indicator of skill, knowledge, or mastery.  There are ways to evaluate during the process of learning.  In a training environment, where there are no tests, and yet where we have to try to deliver courses that help people learn, we need to develop exercises that allow people to try out what they have learned in an environment where they can ask questions and receive feedback and instruction.  Some people come and do not want to learn, and since it is their time, I can't really do too much about that lack of motivation.  If they sit through my class, it goes on their transcript, and they might receive a higher yearly evaluation because of it.  I can't help that situation.  I'm not going to report to the boss that they were shopping for shoes for the entire 6 hours.  But when they return to their desks, unless they already had the skills I taught, they will not have those skills at their disposal in their daily life.  Because there is little real-world consequence, except perhaps if a doctor sleeps during Biology, education requires tests.

When I think about the process, though, I think about what leads up to the grades.  Where are the opportunities for professors to monitor the learning process to see what is happening with a student before the test or paper due date?  There are precious few in the models with which I am familiar, and all are student-intitiated.  The reason they are few and student-initiated is that 1) the professor doesn't necessarily have the time or tools to get to know the student(s), and 2) there is an underlying assumption that forcing someone to ask for help has something to do with growing up.  On a level, it does.  But being open and available is important as well, and paving the way for someone to ask for help.

Let me describe two situations.  One semseter when I was teaching Freshman composition, I had a student who came to class every day.  She was very quiet, but listened attentively.  She participated in daily activities.  However, she never submitted a paper.  I might have mentioned that to her casually in class once or twice, and she nodded.  So she knew that she was behind, and hadn't turned in the work. Clearly, the burden was on her shoulders.  It was easy to shrug it off--that meant one less paper to grade, however much I pitied her.

Consider another situation--a rigidly enforced departmental policy on word count.  The students are warned that if their papers do not meet that word count--even if they are lacking only 2 words--the paper will not be graded.  In the case of the final paper, it will not be read, though earlier papers--the finished, failed product--will receive feedback.  Having already failed, how many of us will want the feedback?  Even when I teach, if I feel that I have failed to deliver a class to my ability or my standards, I do not go looking for student feedback to tell me what I've done wrong.  I already have a sense of my own inadequacy, thank you very much.  So do students learn from that level of failure?  We are told that if they don't fail, success will not be meaningful.  But what is a meaningful failure?  How does a teacher make failure meaningful?  I'm not sure.  But I don't think being beaten down and then invited in for more beating is going to do it.  But when grading is as onorous as it is, and the students don't seem to care about our rules or our standards, it is easy to let the cynacism win.  Let's face it, too--not all students are really interested in learning or playing the game.  Motivations for being in school are much more complex than motivations for working.  Working has a tangible result--a paycheck--even if it produces nothing else for the individual.

In a customer-serving department, we measure contact hours--how many hours we spend teaching multiplied by how many students we teach.  It is important to have people value what we are doing, and they come to value our classes becuase they can see the progress they are making.  So we try to facilitate that progress.  They tell other people.  We maintain our contact hours or increase them.  We do operate on supply and demand, but so do academic departments.  Courses that no one takes are not offered frequently, if at all.  In the offices, advisors are interested in retaining majors--those numbers are good, too.  But advisors are staff, and they are customer-serving positions.  Faculty are different.  Who cares if a faculty member pisses off a student?  No one.  Who cares if a staff member does?  Everyone, including the faculty who happen to be involved with that student.  Faculty are definitely a protected class, though I know that this varies, and not all faculty strive to piss off or offend students--though there are some who definitely do.  They offend in order to make a point--I heard it from the Dean of Faculties recently, as he defended faculty methods to a group of staff members.  But that's methodological.  What about individual students?

Being in a staff position, or a customer-serving position, means that every time you are in contact with others, you are trying to facilitate matters to make certain that the customer feels good about the result.  This has to do with equity as well as attitude.  Most people who come to our department for training understand who we are and what our product is.  They don't have to personally pay, so perhaps some of it is gratitiude for the opportunity (or the ability to escape work, though not all WANT to escape work), but they understand that we have guidelines to follow, and by and large, they respect those guidelines.  There are certainly exceptions.

So when you want to actually maintain a relationship with your customers, you do things differently.  Students are disposable, and they are a renewable resource.  Different ones keep coming back, so there is no fear that faculty will become obsolete becaus students will choose not to come to classes.  If your purpose is to fill someone with your subject or shape them in your own image, you don't actually have to care about how the process goes--especially if you're not held accountable.  Where I am now, if someone is coming up to the time limit of a program, I can't just let them go and shrug.  Of course I could.  It is completely on their shoulders whether they finish a program or not.  But what does it do to our contact hours if I let someone slip through the cracks?  It's only one person.  And the people that they don't tell about our wonderful programs and customer service.  I'm working for word of mouth here.  So I email.  And I ask if they need any help or have any questions.  And while some still don't answer, others will tell me what's going on. Some--working adults, older than me--confess that they were afraid to speak up.  These are not children who need to be taught a lesson about growing up.  These are people who think they know the constraints of our program, and don't want to impose.  And I'm not nearly as intimidating as some professors I've had.  And not nearly as scary as some grad students I've known.  And Freshmen--let's face it--are 18.  And have radically different personalities.  They are people.  And sometimes, they can't cope.  Other times, they're just jerks.  But you know?  You can give them the benefit of the doubt, too.  I have to.  And customer service techniques teach you how to manage the jerks, too.  Just watch the next time you're a jerk--they try to manipulate you with the same techniques I've learned.  It's all rhetoric.

But the curious thing is that when you start considering the process, and how you can intervene and facilitate the success of a person or a situation, it becomes a habit, and requires much less effort.  Granted, I'm tied to an office for 40 hours, so I have to send these emails, but really, it doesn't take very long.  Thinking of a student as a customer simply in order to reorient you're thinking so that you make every reasonable effort to facilitate their success--THAT is what faculty customer service would look like.  It's not the same as spoon feeding them.  I'm not saying that you have to break the rules.  Just start by asking, after you tell them what they need to do, "How can I help with this process?"  Many times, they won't ask for anything.  But I think, with students, many times we try to avoid contact hours rather than seeking them out.  It's part of the institution.

**I forgot to mention that at the root of faculty resistance to customer service is that "service" sounds menial.  Ego and the relative importance of faculty to the university are definitely factors.

Why I Can't Write

I don't write on this blog any more.  I have my Booknotes blog, my family blog, my teaching and training blog, my NaNoWriMo blog (except that I seem to have given up this year), and my sewing blog, but this is the blog that started it all.  I don't write in it any more because it was very confessional and very unfocused.  It was about my reactions to everything, and my need to put those reactions into words.  But tonight, I'm writing, because it fills a need--and a part of myself that I have tried to keep inside, or suppress, or channel into other places, or mostly to condense into angsty statuses on Facebook.  Sometimes I cry a lot, too, but that has become less frequent.  I can't catch up here.  If you are reading this, you might already know something of my story--grad school, academic job market, regular job market, trying to cope with not being where I wanted to be, trying to cope with the fact that I both desire and scorn academia, and scorn it in part (but not wholly) because I feel the sting of rejection.  The coping does not end.  The sting is still raw, though it hurts less and becomes more a normal part of life--as grieving does, I guess.  And sometimes, I just can't handle it.  And so here I am.

I read tonight a beautiful article posted on Tor.com.   It is about Neville Longbottom, and how he is the most important character in the Harry Potter series.  Simply reading the title, I agreed, and reading the article, I not only agreed--I admired the ease and symmetry with which the author made her case.  It was beautiful.  Go read it--it will inspire you.  And it is just what I think literary criticism should do.  It is almost painful to see someone else doing it so very well, when it is exactly what I always wanted to do--to direct people to read in such a way that the literature expands their view of the world.  I wanted to do this both in teaching and in criticism, and I now do neither.  I could still write, certainly.  And I have--on my Booknotes blog.  But I don't care so much about hanging out on others' blogs attracting readers. I don't have the time and energy to cultivate a readership--something I never consciously tried to do when I started this blog.  At the time, I simply seemed to be saying things that people found intereting.  And I was gratified, because they were smart people.  And some of those people remain friends, for which I am also grateful.

But the blog took up too much of my life.  It consumed my time because everything I say, I want to say at length, and in great detail.  In order to graduate, I had to let it go--the blogging lifestyle.  Which was, in fact, the only public writing life I have ever enjoyed.  I will never recapture that.

My "official" vision of the writing life was the academic writing life.  The problems there were that I wanted to say things that were often considered banal and mundane.  I had to repackage them so that the veneer was impressive.  I could do it.  I even enjoyed it.  But I became burned out, and feared that I could not write to achieve tenure, though I always thought that I would be able to when the time came. The time never came.  So now I can't write academic prose.  I can't  do literary criticism.  Because it is too much effort for too little reward.

When my eyes stray across something I could write--that I should write--it wounds me, because it is ultimately a defeat.  It is a self-defeat, and a defeat born of circumstance.  Without a context that requires and allows me to write, how can I write?  Without an audience, how can I motivate myself to say anything of consequence?  My overwhelming sense is that without the job that supports it, what I write is ultimately worthless.  If the tree falls in the forest and no one hears it... I do not actually think it has the courage to make a sound.  I didn't think I could be broken, but I think I have been.

Business Writing and... Business Writing

So my big news at work recently has been that I've been given the "Better Business Writing" or "Business Writing Essentials" class.  It's a 2-day, 6 hour class, which is far removed from the 15-week format I had been used to in my former life.  The class is geared toward staff members at the university and who work for the university system, which is far removed from teaching undergraduates--and oh, there's no grading.  I have the opportunity to revise our current materials if I so choose, and to make small changes to the course if I wish.  Right now, I'm just glad to be teaching writing in addition to software--which means that for two glorious afternoons every couple of months, I will be teaching writing instead of software.

Now, you might not be able to tell from the blog, which can be wordy and indirect, but I am a good business writer--however, teaching business writing is not my forte.  Which is to say, I haven't really done it.  I've taught composition.  And I've taught what we were calling at the time "technical writing," which, frankly, doesn't say anything about what you're writing, how you'll be doing it, or in what context.  Instead, it presented a smattering of genres--reports, proposals, letters, resumes--and an overall approach, which was to consider who the audience is and what they would be doing with whatever it is you are writing for them.  But on a level, teaching writing is teaching writing, and there are simply different contexts to consider, different purposes and audiences--in short, in teaching writing, as in writing, you have to consider rhetorical situation.

So to teach this class, I want to do a little bit of research.  Finding that our department's books were out-dated (over a decade old), I consulted a former colleague of mine who teaches business writing for the business school at the university.  He offered books, approaches, rubrics, and we just chatted a bit about what he does vs. what I do.  And there's a BIG difference there.

He teaches MBAs.  He teaches executives.  These are the guys who are already in business, or who at the least already have a B.A. and some work experience.  They are communicating on a whole different level, for a whole different audience, than the people I teach.  Because my audience will be staff members.  Not members of the upper administration, but their assistants, bookkepers, accountants.  The people I teach need to know how to send an informative email that will not embarrass or irritate the others in the department, to write effective recommendations for employees to get raises--in short, they need to execute standard business correspondance with competance.  And I'm going to be giving them tips. They don't need to propose or report on a merger, or write business or financial plans.  And that's good.  Because I don't want to teach the Haliburtons.  Not. Even. A. Little.

What I will be teaching is, in some ways, more humble than academic writing.  It will certainly be more practical.  In many cases, however, the students will be in the same place as the freshman I used to teach, except that they will have been out of school for longer in most cases, their confidence might be lower to begin with than many (but not all) undergraduates.  But they will know why they are there, because if they are there, it will mean that writing is in some way important to their jobs.

I do prefer teaching people to write as a means of communicating, discovering, and synthesizing their ideas.  I do ultimately want to teach people to engage with and analyze the written word, however they encounter it, and ultimately to apply that same analysis to spoken language and the world around them.  I believe that by having writing at our disposal, we are in command of a lot, whether it's important to anyone else or not.  This is why I have four blogs.  Or five.  Whatever.  And I believe that writing gives us access to our own thoughts in unique ways, even as it opens us up to others around us, for good or ill.  BUT...

This does not mean that I don't relish the opportunity to teach practical writing to people who need it.  Just that awareness on the part of the student--that writing is significant--validates what I am doing, and what I can do. But what is really important is helping people communicate--and making writing a bit easier, and a bit less intimidating.  And along the way, what I have taught them might get someone else a raise, award or promiotion.  It might help people understand one another.  It might mean that someone reading an email feels a little less irritation in a day.  And those are all good reasons to teach writing.  In fact, there are no bad  reasons to teach writing.  Well, maybe to train minions for world domination.... But if I had to deal with executives?  *sigh*  I'd have to think twice.

Let's Communicate like Adults: Styles and Types

I have been fascinated by personality styles for a while now, owing in large part to my own introspection and the abundance of online "tests" for this or that.  While I am working on how personality types can help us to understand our own reading preferences, including what narrative strategies of engagement we prefer, on my Booknotes blog, I am also interested in other ways in which personality types and communication styles might speak across the teaching-training divide.

I would argue that the most prominent classification system for personality types is the Meyers-Briggs classification system, which relies on the categories of Introversion/Extroversion, Intuitive/Sensing  Feeling/Thinking, Perceiving/Judging.  From these categories, we get 16 "types":

• INFP
• INTP
• INFJ
• INTJ
• ISFP
• ISTP
• ISFJ
• ISTJ
• ENFP
• ENTP
• ENFJ
• ENTJ
• ESFP
• ESTP
• ESFJ
• ESTJ

And each of these types are handily linked to explanations of the interactions between the traits measured by the four categories.  Here is a good description for the Wikipedia-adverse, or if you prefer Wikipedia, their descriptions are also acceptable.  (If you would like to take the test to find out where you stand, here is an online version of the test.)

In my training department, rather than talking about personality types, which are more the realm of psychology, we talk about communication styles.  And communication intersects neatly with teaching, training, and rhetoric.  Not only does our department (but not me personally) teach these communication styles so that people who take the class can learn how to communicate more effectively with others in their offices, communication is intrinsic to training and to teaching--and, well, rhetoric (an erstwhile specialty of mine) is communication, and knowing how to communicate to/with an audience.  Adding a self-reflective layer and a way to understand one's intended audience can only be helpful, particularly for Freshman comp and for students who do not already have a knack for targeting a specific audience effectively.  The communication styles that we discuss in our training department are called  "the four bird mode" or, quite ridiculously, "DOPE," which stands for

• Dove
• Owl
• Peacock
• Eagle

The bird designation is both useful and very annoying, because the classification system attempts both to use and to distance itself from the traditional associations with the birds.  Dove does, in fact, mean peacemaker; Owl does not precicely mean wise, though it does have to do with collecting information; Peacock isn't really supposed to mean a strutting performer--except that it sort of does, and Eagle isn't actually a bird of prey, just an ultra-direct leader type.  Sadly, the one I find the most offensive, with the least explanatory power at face value, is my own: Peacock.  More on that in a minute...

There are some good explanations of this system online.  It has the benefit of being simpler than Meyers-Briggs, and of dealing specifically with one aspect of personality--communication.  Here is a paper-based (PDF) test, which includes descriptions of the birds; this site has a self-assessment questionaire.  Here are two more sites with good explanations of the types:

• "Are you. . . an Eagle, Peacock, Dove or Owl when you communicate?"
• "Team Communcation:  Birds of a Feather"

The latter, in particular, has a comparative chart that tells you how to recognize each of the types and what their strengths, weaknesses, and bottom line are.  I  tested firmly as a Peacock, but I have more than a few Owl traits.  On the whole, I am less happy with this schema than the Meyers-Briggs, which in some ways supports and in some ways contradicts the DOPE classification--the INFP "Idealist" could be an emotional Peacock who gets excited about ideas, and might be a "performer" in some ways, but is not necessarily a pushy attention-seeker...

What is interesting about the birds is the diagram on page 5 of this PDF (also above), which shows how controlling or supportive, direct or indirect each type is.  I like to think I am direct, but also supportive--Peacock.  This model substitutes "Assertiveness" for "Controlling."  And this discussion translates the whole thing into practical terms--what you need to know in order to be able to communicate effectively with each of the types.  Something to remember when doing a self-evaluation is that this schema is geared specifically to the workplace.  So while this chart probably represents how I come across in meetings (as a Peacock):

• The Dove is sympathetic, moderate, people-focused.
• The Owl is technical, analytical, process-focused.
• The Peacock is expressive, persuasive, recognition-focused.
• The Eagle is bold, confident, results-focused.

I have more than a few Dove and Owl characteristics (INFP).

So how is all this useful?  Well, in Training and Organizational Development, teaching people how to communicate effectively in an office environment is simply one of the services we offer.  People don't know how to communicate.  They butt heads.  They misunderstand one another.  They work inefficiently in groups. Aha--wait!  There is the common ground I was looking for.

I think that in teaching, personality types and communication styles could be productively discussed with undergraduate students and employed in the classroom.  Throughout the 1990s and forward, the mode of teaching has been shifting to prefer so-called "active learning," when it is in fact active learning and not simply a search-and-find activity by which the student receives the same information that would be handed out in a lecture.  Active learning can be tricky, and involves more questioning than is typically permitted--at least at the secondary level.  But what active learning means more often than not is more group work--projects and whatnot--which I hated when I was in school.  Loathed.  Because often there was someone else competing with or sabotaging my vision--which meant that I was inclined to take charge and cut the other person out.  The PBS Kids show Arthur actually has a great episode on exactly this topic.  Group work is difficult to manage as an inexperienced student negotiating one's own ego in relation to others.  And it is equally difficult to negotiate as a teacher--at least, as a teacher who is trying to facilitate student success.  And yet, as much as I hate to admit it, it really is a useful skill to be able to work with others on projects.  But all of the group work in the world won't make students better prepared for group projects in the workplace--unless they are taught a little bit about how people work together, group dynamics, and how to negotiate the roles they are required to fill.

Enter communication styles.

With the resources online, it would be simple for a teacher to devote some time at the beginning of a class, or of the first group project, to a discussion of communication styles.  While an Eagle might one day, under the constraints of a job title, be forced to subsume his or her personality in order to placate a boss, it might help a group of students to complete a project on time to have them assign a leadership role to the person who is the clear leader.  Having a group of 4 Doves or 4 Owls (4 Eagles seems unlikely...) working on a project might be ill-advised--or it might be treated as a problem to acknowledge and strategize to overcome. Have the Owl of the group do the research (Owls love information-gathering); let the Peacock exert some creative control.  Working together according to the students' natural inclinations is bound to produce a stronger product, teach them about themselves, and prepare them for the eventuality of higher-stakes group work.  Add a self-reflective writing exercise at the end, and voila!  You have some good pedagogy.  And something to build on:

• From what you have learned about your personality type, discuss your approach to interaction in your classes or your approach to education in general. 
• From what you have learned about your particular communication style, analyze the tone of your first argumentative paper. 

You have now opened new avenues for critical thinking, analysis, and revision, and made the "personal narrative" obsolete as a bonus!

The Difficult Questions - Nonacademic to Academic Career Recovery

Against my better judgment, I emailed my former mentor.  I think he sees me as very needy, and so has been really reluctant to reach out at all since I graduated.  I think he just wants to move on--perhaps because he can't account for my failure.  I'm not sure.  But anyway, I sent him an email, and asked about the "shelf life" of a Ph.D., and about whether he might have any strategies for reintegration into academia.  In the past, he has helped his male students and former students with their careers when they didn't follow the usual straight-into-tenure-track path.  But maybe he's just tired now.  I can understand that.

I am feeling stale and unfulfilled.  Stale, because I have no connection to anything that relates to my degree.  And that's not a good place to be.  I understand why there is a shelf-life for Ph.D.s. While you're in a graduate program, you're caught up in the currents of what everyone is talking about.  There's something vital about that environment, even when you sort of hate the things that people are talking about--still, there's an intellectual energy.  And teaching!  Ideas come from teaching.  And there is also energy in helping someone to see something new, or to be able to figure something out for the first time.  There is an energy that comes with being around people who are young--who are becoming--who are not yet there, and not yet in a holding pattern (because I know working adults are not yet there, but they are where they have to be; like I am).  Teaching is helping someone to move forward.  Training is helping someone to make the most of where they are now--at least, the kind of training I do.  Professional development has more to do with moving forward, but even so--they're moving forward on a much more limited trajectory.  I want to be in the realm of open possibility, not of settling, or of stasis, or of closed doors and glass ceilings.

So I emailed.  And I got a very stock response--keep trying, spin your work experience as positive.  As I said, I think he is tired.  *sigh*  So am I.

So I emailed back, because I know that my first questions were nebulous.  And I asked three big questions:

1) Teaching - can you lose it?
2) Intellectual community - how do you find it?
3) Strategies I've considered - are they worth it?

The first two are crucial.  I am in such a different world.  In training, we don't ask probing questions.  Even in the "soft skills" classes, in which they seem to ask big questions about diversity, for example--they really don't.  The questions are designed to help people accept the answers that the strategists have already set forth.  I'm in technology training, which means the answers are always closed:  "How would you make use of this in your job?"  "Have you ever hit 'Enter' in Microsoft Word, only to have all of your formatting change?  Well, I can help you with that."  There's no creation or discovery; only demonstration and repetition.  So I worry that I am losing the ability to ask the probing questions--to make people think.

I'm also worried that I am losing the knowledge that I used to possess--that it's tucked so far back into my head that it's increasingly inaccessible.  I see my boxes of books that I haven't unpacked, and when I look in them, I see books that I love--that I used to love--with which I have no connection currently.  I could read them again, but why?  Some books are for me, and some books are for jumping into conversation, and inspiring others.  I'm not going to revisit the History of British Literature on my own behalf.  There's simply no point.  Or is there?  No... I really don't think there is.

And then, there's the fact that the current is leaving me behind.  I don't know how people on the inside are talking about things any more because I'm not there.  And reading it in a journal is simply not the same.  It's the teaching.  How are we presenting these authors?  What are we highlighting?  And even if I go against the grain, it's stimulating to be able to borrow from or work against what other people are doing.  Instead, I'm rereading Harry Potter.  And I'm pretty tired of it.  But I have to keep reading, because Voldemort isn't dead yet.  If I worked fairly hard, I could probably make that into a career metaphor.  But I won't just yet, because I'm feeling lazy.

So...  How do you find intellectual community?  Or intellectual validation?  I have a small community, for which I am very grateful.  If you are reading this--thank you.  You keep me going.  Literally.  But I have always hungered for more--for publication.  To have my ideas out there--influencing... someone.  And right now, I just have no idea how to get there.  My most recent abstract, which I thought was very good, was rejected, but part of me isn't surprised--every time I have an idea, the academically trained side of my brain can see what's laughable about it.  I was accepted to a conference that sounded fabulous, but a conference right now is no more than an expensive vacation, and I don't like to travel alone.  I have never found community at a conference--not really.  Once or twice I came close. Generally, I feel very alone--a complete wallflower.  So no community there.  But I need the community for stimulus, for support, and for resources.  What makes a good book?  Who might be interested in the half-baked ideas I do have?  And most of all, why should I write them down if there is no guarantee of an audience, of publication, or of a change in career?

These, my friends, are the questions I need to answer.

Representing the Training Department

Last week, there was a call for volunteers to sit at our "booth" or table at the university benefits fair.  I imagined sitting at a table in a large conference and meeting space that we have in our building, handing out information to the people who would drift by in ones and twos, answering questions that they might have.  I was going to be working with one of my fellow-trainers, who has a similarly wry sense of humor.  And it would be okay, although I knew that this was not my preferred situation.

Earlier this week, I learned that my table partner--let's call him Jim--had switched to the afternoon because no one else had signed up for that spot, which left me alone at the "table."  Fast forward to this morning.  I dress carefully, professionally, and express some anxiety to co-workers, one of whom is kind enough to check to see whether I will be alone.  I won't be, as it turns out.  But she tells me that there was some strategizing done on the previous day, and briefs me--briefly--on the situation.

Rather than occupying the entire meeting space, our benefits fair occupies half of the area, which is divided to allow for the retiree fair on the other side of the partition.  Enter the complication.  First, we are giving out tote bags.  So people are coming to our booth to get a tote bag because they need it to put their stuff in.  But they are not particularly interested in talking to us in the meantime.  So now they have to talk to us to get a tote bag.  Ugh.  Selective distribution of swag.  Second, our services are only available to active employees.  Retirees are not eligible, though they are likely to be interested.  So now I have to make small talk to determine whether someone is eligible for our services, small talk to make sure they are really interested, and then use my judgment about who gets a tote bag and when.  So I'm a gatekeeper for the swag, and I have to disappoint people.  And I am opposed to both of those things.  In fact, I'm the person who has to force myself to talk to the people at the tables to GET the swag, and all the while, I'm trying to sneak away.  Why did I think it was a good idea to volunteer?  Oh yes.  I thought it would look good.  Trying to play the game. These things are important.

When I go downstairs, the room--half the size I expected--is lined with tables, with tables in the middle, and people EVERYWHERE.  I have to look through the people (okay, maybe it wasn't so dense--not like Mardi Gras or anything) to find our booth.  Then, I have to walk around the room to get to it.  I realize, to my utter dismay, that there is a huge project-board--like the social studies fair type--on the table.  Our materials--flyers, brochures, coaster--are on the table in front of the board.  So I have no place to hide.  When I walk up, my co-table person is occupied, so I have to stand awkwardly, watching her engage with others, with nothing to hide behind.  I am mortified.  The next person walks up, and I hear her say, "Our classes are for active employees."  The retiree she addresses laughs and makes a joke about being active, but not an employee, and being more active now that she is not an employee.  And I am greatly relieved, because to my mind, this is a social blunder.  I do not like distinguishing between people, or assuming things about them (retirement status) because of what I observe (that they look older than X age).  This is not what I do.  Then I notice that my co-table person is not wearing her name badge.  Neither am I.  I mention it, and she suggests that we take turns getting the badges.  I may talk to one person--a few whole sentences!--about what we do, and I might let two more pass by as I try to judge their ages and work status.  When it is my turn to get my badge, I mention that I might not be back down if I can find a replacement.  My intended repalcement, however, does not bite.  I return downstairs, completely agitated.  This whole process has taken perhaps 10 minutes.  Perhaps less.

So what's the point, you ask?  Well, the head of our department is a complete extrovert.  She thrives on performance.  And frankly, I have my moments, but they are better-defined moments that do not require unstructured interaction.  And even then, I overthink and obsess about small mistakes.  It's what I do.  I spy her going in to the benefits fair as I return.  I confess my unease, my anxiety, and I know that my expression and manner conveys my level of discomfort.  She is sympathetic--but asks, "Even though you teach?"  Even though I teach I have this anxiety?  Indeed.  Teaching is different.  And she has no idea how I beat myself up when I teach, but that is a different story.  When I teach, I know who I am supposed to be.  It is about persona. And yet, in some ways, I'm not who I should be when I teach (when I train).  I am not an expert.  And as a trainer, that's what I'm expected to be.  But when I stand at a table (not behind) and hand out materials, my role is less clear.  I want to help people, and I can answer questions.  But I do not want to foist myself upon them, and I certainly don't want to be in a gatekeeper position, assessing who they are.  I'm not even crazy about greeting them first.  I like to give people space--because I would like them to give me space.  But selling our services is not at all about giving people space--and it's not about anything like teaching.  A teaching (or training) persona will not help in this situation.  Nor will being myself, because myself would never do the things required of me.

I was able to escape, and I felt immediate relief.  I have never felt quite this level of anxiety in any social situation--possibly because when I have been most uncomfortable, like when attending conferences alone, I was able to slink away and hide out of site.  I was not required to talk to people.  My supervisor's supervisor, probably feeling like she was shielding me, said that she would say I wasn't feeling well.  That's not entirely false--I wasn't feeling well at all.  But I'm not exactly ashamed of feeling the anxiety.  It was a false situation, and I am actually a pretty straightforward person.  I was being put in a position of being impolite, unhospitable--by my rather stringent Southern New Orleans standards; being rude to an older, grand-parently person is not done, and while I wasn't exactly asked to be rude, well, I just wanted to give them a darned bag and answer questions.  *sigh*  Part of me feels that I should have stuck it out.  But that part of me is only able to feel that way now that I'm out of the situation.

So I'm left thinking about the differences.  I do get anxious when I teach sometimes, but I have prepped and prepared.  I have props and crutches.  I know what I know, and what I don't.  I would say that unexpected questions don't phase me, but that depends on what I'm teaching. When I'm teaching Adobe Acrobat Pro, they definitely phase me.  I'm not sure if it's exactly about authority, because I had a kind of authority in the booth.  Maybe the "booth" authority feels more false to me, or more authoritative.  I can deny you a tote bag based on who I think you are; if I'm offering you information or learning, I'm offering it to everyone, and I'm offering everything I have--with no strings attached.

Engaging the Personae--Teacher vs. Trainer