I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I'm struggling right now to choose between pursuing a PhD in English (so I can teach literature) or pursuing an MLIS (to become a librarian). Let's pro/con, shall we? Perhaps this will give me some perspective.
PhD:
The one thing that this can claim heavily in its favor is my desire to teach. I've discovered this semester that I truly enjoy teaching literature. Am I really good at it? Probably not the best. Yet. But that's what PhD programs are for. I like having discussions about books and topics, I like learning from my students when they see things I don't, I like exposing them to writers or books or ideas they might never have encountered. I like hearing, "This is my favorite class," from a math major; and "Is it okay if my paper is too long? I'm going to have too much fun writing this paper." Both of which actually happened this semester. From two students who say they don't like English classes and don't like writing.
The drawback to this is that the market for jobs is abysmal and has been for about 15-20 years. The recession certainly didn't help any, either. Basically, if I do get a PhD, I have about 10% chance of getting a full-time, tenure-track position in the first few years. So essentially, I'd be putting in 3-4 years of hard work to be right back in the same position I am now for at least the first few years of the job search. I don't want to put in the money and time to even apply for programs unless I'm 100% sure this is what I want to do. (Plus, to have a better chance of success after finishing the degree, I'd have to go to one of the top schools in the country. I'm honestly don't know if I'm smart enough to get into them, much less succeed in them.--And that's not being modest. It's a simple fact.)
MLIS:
When I was going in to my junior year at undergrad, this is what I wanted to do. I knew it. I got a job working in the school's library. I applied to one of the top schools in the country. I didn't get in. So I went on to a Master's program in English, figuring I would just apply to MLIS programs after finishing my English degree. Well, I got burned out. I wanted to take time off. And my time off has got me into some serious thinking. It made me think that maybe I wanted to do something else. Am I still interested? Absolutely. I'm intrigued by digital libraries, and reference services. I'd want to work in an educational library. And, if I did, chances are I'd still be able to teach English at least every now and then. Plus, this job market is better. Oh-so-much better. There's a lot of people going in to the field now, but there's a lot of new, innovative job opportunities for someone with this degree. Especially if you specialize in digital libraries.
The con is that I'm unsure. What if I start doing it and hate it? Is that a chance I'll just have to take? Am I willing to essentially jump in blind? Have faith that it will be right?
I've always joked that I've never really "planned" out my life. I've never strategically set goals and made my way to them. I've somehow ended up where I need to be, when I need to be there. Some may call it luck. But I call it faith. I've always asked God to guide where I need to go, and so far, I haven't been led astray. So in addition to thinking about all of this, I've been praying. And many great opportunities have come my way, and most of them, for some reason or another, haven't worked out. But then this semester happened, where I'm teaching the equivalent of overload hours, and I'm loving half of my classes and hating the other half. So what's the lesson to be learned? Is this it? Am I here because this is where my life is meant to go? Or is this supposed to be the trial that leads me to the other path? I try to look, listen, feel what's happening around me, looking for that epiphany. But I feel like I've had an epiphany for each path I've considered. Does that mean I just need to pick one and run with it?
Questions, questions, questions. No answers. Not yet. But I'm waiting. I'm praying, I'm listening.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
OMG, this is 2 much
Do any of my friends who read this use Twitter? Because I have to say, I don't get it. I went to the website recently, just to see what it was all about, and my only response: Are you people serious? Are we so me-obsessed that we think people actually want to read about what we're doing every second of every day? Let's not even go into the safety issues of informing the entire world when you're home alone, or not home at all, or when you've lost/broken your phone, where you are and who you're with at all times. That's inviting stalkers with the worst of intentions.
I don't know if I was looking at the wrong thing, but all it looked like to me what a list of complete strangers talking in unrecognizable acronyms about the STUPIDEST things EVER. I do not have a Twitter account. I do not "follow" anyone on Twitter. I'm rebelling against the "microblog" because I think it's about the dumbest thing technology has thrust into our social consciousness.
Top 10 reasons I will never Twitter (or is it tweet? Whatever.)
1. No one, I repeat, NO ONE has a life interesting enough to tweet about. And if they do, they're not wasting their time tweeting about it.
2. I like my privacy. When I draw the curtains in the middle of the day, I want the neighbors to have to use their imaginations and keen observation skills to be able to determine what's going on in my house. Tweeting: "just ate lunch, time for the afternoon delight" just makes it too easy. They'd get bored.
3. It is impossible to express my many varied and complex moods and mental states in less than 140 characters. I'm a complicated woman.
4. If I want to sound off on what a bitch or asshole someone is being, I want the satisfaction of watching their face twist in rage while I'm doing it. Twitter just takes all the fun out of it.
5. On the flip side of that, if everything in life is so awesome that I just have to tell SOMEONE, I'll call my mother. Or my best friend. Or my husband. Or one of my brothers. Or my dad. See a pattern?
6. I like to use full sentences, fully spelled words, and complex, interesting sentence structure. IDK, I'm crazy like that.
7. There are so many things going in my life right now, I'm lucky I have time to remember to do them all, much less provide a minute-by-minute play-by-play of who, what, when, and where.
8. Cyberstalking.
9. Cyberbullying. It's not so much that I'm fearful of this for myself, but rather, rebelling on principle.
10. I already have a cell phone, a blog, a facebook page, a myspace page, email, texting, and good old-fashioned mail. Isn't there enough ways to communicate without needing a site designed to reduce human communication to the barest, fastest form of mass communication with thousands (millions?) of people who don't give a damn? It completely strips the "commune" out of communication. We're not talking to each other anymore, we're talking to machines.
I don't know if I was looking at the wrong thing, but all it looked like to me what a list of complete strangers talking in unrecognizable acronyms about the STUPIDEST things EVER. I do not have a Twitter account. I do not "follow" anyone on Twitter. I'm rebelling against the "microblog" because I think it's about the dumbest thing technology has thrust into our social consciousness.
Top 10 reasons I will never Twitter (or is it tweet? Whatever.)
1. No one, I repeat, NO ONE has a life interesting enough to tweet about. And if they do, they're not wasting their time tweeting about it.
2. I like my privacy. When I draw the curtains in the middle of the day, I want the neighbors to have to use their imaginations and keen observation skills to be able to determine what's going on in my house. Tweeting: "just ate lunch, time for the afternoon delight" just makes it too easy. They'd get bored.
3. It is impossible to express my many varied and complex moods and mental states in less than 140 characters. I'm a complicated woman.
4. If I want to sound off on what a bitch or asshole someone is being, I want the satisfaction of watching their face twist in rage while I'm doing it. Twitter just takes all the fun out of it.
5. On the flip side of that, if everything in life is so awesome that I just have to tell SOMEONE, I'll call my mother. Or my best friend. Or my husband. Or one of my brothers. Or my dad. See a pattern?
6. I like to use full sentences, fully spelled words, and complex, interesting sentence structure. IDK, I'm crazy like that.
7. There are so many things going in my life right now, I'm lucky I have time to remember to do them all, much less provide a minute-by-minute play-by-play of who, what, when, and where.
8. Cyberstalking.
9. Cyberbullying. It's not so much that I'm fearful of this for myself, but rather, rebelling on principle.
10. I already have a cell phone, a blog, a facebook page, a myspace page, email, texting, and good old-fashioned mail. Isn't there enough ways to communicate without needing a site designed to reduce human communication to the barest, fastest form of mass communication with thousands (millions?) of people who don't give a damn? It completely strips the "commune" out of communication. We're not talking to each other anymore, we're talking to machines.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Snowtorious B.I.G.
My friends who remember the 90s will thoroughly enjoy the title reference.
Being a lifetime resident of the Midwest, I'm used to snow. Sometimes large amounts of it. In fact, my Grandpa was from WI, and I remember spending a white Easter at his house. So I pretty much LOVE winter weather and I LOVE snow. Was I prepared for the epic blitz of a blizzard that has been raging for the last 14 hours? Nope. Not at all. But does that lessen it's awesome? Hell to the no.
I'm planning on taking more pics tomorrow, but here's some preliminaries of what we've dubbed Snowtorious B.I.G.:
The view out into the street in front of our house.
The curly drift on the hood of Hubby's truck.
Along the side of the house, to our front porch.
Me, standing in one of the drifts in front of the house.
Being a lifetime resident of the Midwest, I'm used to snow. Sometimes large amounts of it. In fact, my Grandpa was from WI, and I remember spending a white Easter at his house. So I pretty much LOVE winter weather and I LOVE snow. Was I prepared for the epic blitz of a blizzard that has been raging for the last 14 hours? Nope. Not at all. But does that lessen it's awesome? Hell to the no.
I'm planning on taking more pics tomorrow, but here's some preliminaries of what we've dubbed Snowtorious B.I.G.:
The view out into the street in front of our house.
The curly drift on the hood of Hubby's truck.
Along the side of the house, to our front porch.
Me, standing in one of the drifts in front of the house.Friday, January 28, 2011
Week Two: An Improvement
This week went a lot better. Probably because I stopped freaking out about it being the first week of teaching. And also because it appears my students decided (for the moment at least) to actually complete their reading assignments.
That being said, I did have one OMG moment this week.
I have one student, let's call him Jim, who hasn't shown up to class at the University. My classes there are MW classes only. And because the first week we had MLK day, we started on Wednesday. So, we've had 3 total class periods. He missed the first and second. He shows up on the third, only after his roommate, who also happens to be in the class, told him that he had to come talk to me about why he had yet to show up. (His roommate had informed me during our second class meeting that he was his roommate, and I asked him to have him come talk to me.)
So, he comes to class. He sits in the front row, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, and refuses to participate. He won't speak. He didn't even write the short in-class writing assignment I had them do. He sat there doodling on his notebook.
He comes up to me after class and says he came today because his roommate said he had to talk to me. The conversation went something like this (and yes, I am correcting some of the grammar in some spots):
Me: So, where have you been the last week and a half?
J: My Mom was sick.
Me: You're going to have to give me more than that. I don't mean to pry in your personal business, but if you're going to be missing a week's worth of class, I need more information.
J: Well, she has arthritis.
My head: Um, WTF?
Me: And her arthritis caused you to miss a week of classes?
J: Well, she had an attack in the car.
[Let's just ignore the fact that people do not have arthritis "attacks" and keep going.]
Me: So?
J: Well, my Dad had to go get her. And she called me. And then I had to talk to my Dad. (and I'm pretty sure he said something about going to a hospital--wth.)
Me: And these phone calls took a week and a half? And had to occur during your class time?
J: Well, no. The rest of the week I've been trying to get my books and stuff.
Me: It doesn't take a week to buy books. And the book store is open around our class times. And other students have managed to come to class without books, get the assignments done, and participate. So you still need to come.
J: Okay.
Me: You're only allowed 4 absences for the semester. You've used two. You're not being excused for those. In the future, if you do have a legitimate emergency, you need to let me know, prior to class time.
J: Okay.
Me: And you should probably access a copy of the syllabus on [the online class system] to see the full course policies and readings/assignments schedule.
He left. WTF. Arthritis attack? Had to buy his books? Does he think I'm that stupid? I'll bet he fails. Or withdraws.
That being said, I did have one OMG moment this week.
I have one student, let's call him Jim, who hasn't shown up to class at the University. My classes there are MW classes only. And because the first week we had MLK day, we started on Wednesday. So, we've had 3 total class periods. He missed the first and second. He shows up on the third, only after his roommate, who also happens to be in the class, told him that he had to come talk to me about why he had yet to show up. (His roommate had informed me during our second class meeting that he was his roommate, and I asked him to have him come talk to me.)
So, he comes to class. He sits in the front row, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, and refuses to participate. He won't speak. He didn't even write the short in-class writing assignment I had them do. He sat there doodling on his notebook.
He comes up to me after class and says he came today because his roommate said he had to talk to me. The conversation went something like this (and yes, I am correcting some of the grammar in some spots):
Me: So, where have you been the last week and a half?
J: My Mom was sick.
Me: You're going to have to give me more than that. I don't mean to pry in your personal business, but if you're going to be missing a week's worth of class, I need more information.
J: Well, she has arthritis.
My head: Um, WTF?
Me: And her arthritis caused you to miss a week of classes?
J: Well, she had an attack in the car.
[Let's just ignore the fact that people do not have arthritis "attacks" and keep going.]
Me: So?
J: Well, my Dad had to go get her. And she called me. And then I had to talk to my Dad. (and I'm pretty sure he said something about going to a hospital--wth.)
Me: And these phone calls took a week and a half? And had to occur during your class time?
J: Well, no. The rest of the week I've been trying to get my books and stuff.
Me: It doesn't take a week to buy books. And the book store is open around our class times. And other students have managed to come to class without books, get the assignments done, and participate. So you still need to come.
J: Okay.
Me: You're only allowed 4 absences for the semester. You've used two. You're not being excused for those. In the future, if you do have a legitimate emergency, you need to let me know, prior to class time.
J: Okay.
Me: And you should probably access a copy of the syllabus on [the online class system] to see the full course policies and readings/assignments schedule.
He left. WTF. Arthritis attack? Had to buy his books? Does he think I'm that stupid? I'll bet he fails. Or withdraws.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Week One: Mildly Successful
While I cannot say that the first week of classes has set flame to some heretofore unknown desire for developing young minds, I do have to admit that it was not a complete and total bust. Shall we say it was alright?
One of my classes at the college was great, one was painful. One of the my classes and the university was acceptable, the other was . . . well, it was. That's about all I can say about it. Now, do I anticipate it will get better? Yes. Do I expect that they'll all turn out to to be fantastic, blow-you-away, change the course of your life amazing? Nope. Not so much.
I need to figure out how to teach a hour and a half class. Up until this point, all of my experience has been with 50 minute classes or independent studies. So this hour and a half (or hour and 15 minutes, depending on the school) is not working out well for me.
Well, I shouldn't say that. When the students are responsive and into the discussions, so far it's been great. But when they are reticent, withdrawn, disengaged and [most likely] unprepared (by nature of not reading the material) it is really, really painful.
When I was in college, for a long time, I was shy. I didn't like to speak up in class, unless I expected to say something to amaze the whole room. I actually "apologized" to one of my old instructors today for any time that I wasn't very talkative or didn't participate in class. Cuz let me tell you, it's really difficult to be on the other side of the shut-down classroom.
I'm excited about the material, and I had enough material to fill an entire class period. But it's really hard to give something back to students who aren't giving you anything to work with.
I said this semester was going to be my experiment. I told my husband: if I like it, I'm going to get my PhD. If I don't like it, then I need to do a serious re-evaluation of my life choices, finally pick a path, and go after it with gusto. He's all on board. Now I just have to be.
One of my classes at the college was great, one was painful. One of the my classes and the university was acceptable, the other was . . . well, it was. That's about all I can say about it. Now, do I anticipate it will get better? Yes. Do I expect that they'll all turn out to to be fantastic, blow-you-away, change the course of your life amazing? Nope. Not so much.
I need to figure out how to teach a hour and a half class. Up until this point, all of my experience has been with 50 minute classes or independent studies. So this hour and a half (or hour and 15 minutes, depending on the school) is not working out well for me.
Well, I shouldn't say that. When the students are responsive and into the discussions, so far it's been great. But when they are reticent, withdrawn, disengaged and [most likely] unprepared (by nature of not reading the material) it is really, really painful.
When I was in college, for a long time, I was shy. I didn't like to speak up in class, unless I expected to say something to amaze the whole room. I actually "apologized" to one of my old instructors today for any time that I wasn't very talkative or didn't participate in class. Cuz let me tell you, it's really difficult to be on the other side of the shut-down classroom.
I'm excited about the material, and I had enough material to fill an entire class period. But it's really hard to give something back to students who aren't giving you anything to work with.
I said this semester was going to be my experiment. I told my husband: if I like it, I'm going to get my PhD. If I don't like it, then I need to do a serious re-evaluation of my life choices, finally pick a path, and go after it with gusto. He's all on board. Now I just have to be.
Monday, January 17, 2011
I'm definitely not getting any sleep tonight.
I start my first day of teaching tomorrow. And I. AM. FREAKING. OUT.
Just thought I'd share.
Just thought I'd share.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Let's wax philosophic.
Since I spent my last post lamenting about leaving KMart, I thought I'd continue my melodramatic theme into this one.
If you're someone who likes to teach (and I think I am) then you're someone who likes to see others succeed, rather than needing all of the success for yourself. If your students are successful, then you are too. I'm not someone who necessarily defines success as a high-status job with a heavy paycheck. I didn't go to grad school to get a Master's degree to be able to do anything with it. Mostly, I was in the right place at the right time, and quite frankly, I just love being in school. I love learning. And teaching freshmen composition? I've been guaranteed I'll never stop learning new things. But what do I hope to teach? I'm not naive enough to think that most of my students don't have a predisposition to hate my class. It's English. Mostly, they hate it. They find it boring, irksome, and tedious. And a good portion of them wouldn't know what those last 2 descriptors even mean.
So, do I hope to teach them something? Even through that prejudice? Of course I do. When I stop losing hope that I can teach my students anything, then I'll stop pursuing teaching. I just don't necessarily hope to teach them the kinds of things they expect to learn.
If I have to choose what they learn (and even though I design what I want to teach, it doesn't necessarily directly reflect what they will learn), these would fall somewhere on that list:
Good writers are not born. Good writers develop. They teach themselves. They write all the time. And that's truly the only way to become a better writer. Every skill requires practice. Even singers born with amazing voices have to train them. Even athletes born with significant abilities practice and condition to become better. Writing is the same way. You can't improve if all you do it sit around and bemoan that you're a terrible writer.
Related to that, good writing never happens on a first draft. NEVER. You may think that you're first draft is pretty phenomenal, and it may be good, but it will always benefit from revision. Writing is never truly "finished." There's just a deadline to turn it in. You shouldn't expect to produce a perfect paper on a first try, and expecting that from yourself is one of the worst causes of writer's block. Start somewhere, anywhere. Get something on paper. Then build on it.
You are not a "bad" writer. You're not "bad" at English. If you truly believe that you're just always going to be bad at English, someone, somewhere failed you.
Good writers are good readers. The two are inseparable. If you want to become a better writer, then become a better reader. It's a fact that we best learn and understand language through immersion. So immerse yourself in the English language. Yes you've been speaking it your whole life, but spoken language differs from written language on many levels. To be a better writer, you have to read good writing.
Good grammar does not equivocate to good writing. The end. Every great writer has had a great editor, too.
We read and write every single day. Any student who tells me that they're "never going to use this stuff again" after a composition course better be prepared to be laughed at. We do it all the time. What is Facebook? Twitter? MySpace (does anyone actually use MySpace anymore)? Texting? It's all social networking. Networking that requires communication. It's amazing to me that students today can type 140 characters, click a button, and reach millions of people around the world. And they tell me they're never going to use the things they learn in my class? Sure, facebooking and tweeting does not require MLA or APA documentation. But it is a form of writing. A form of writing that has it's own form, rules, and even language. That's what I teach in my class: How to determine the type of writing needed, the audience you're trying to reach, the methods to go about communicating what you want to say, and the language needed to be clear and concise. Never going to need the skills I'm trying to show you? BALDERDASH.
If you're someone who likes to teach (and I think I am) then you're someone who likes to see others succeed, rather than needing all of the success for yourself. If your students are successful, then you are too. I'm not someone who necessarily defines success as a high-status job with a heavy paycheck. I didn't go to grad school to get a Master's degree to be able to do anything with it. Mostly, I was in the right place at the right time, and quite frankly, I just love being in school. I love learning. And teaching freshmen composition? I've been guaranteed I'll never stop learning new things. But what do I hope to teach? I'm not naive enough to think that most of my students don't have a predisposition to hate my class. It's English. Mostly, they hate it. They find it boring, irksome, and tedious. And a good portion of them wouldn't know what those last 2 descriptors even mean.
So, do I hope to teach them something? Even through that prejudice? Of course I do. When I stop losing hope that I can teach my students anything, then I'll stop pursuing teaching. I just don't necessarily hope to teach them the kinds of things they expect to learn.
If I have to choose what they learn (and even though I design what I want to teach, it doesn't necessarily directly reflect what they will learn), these would fall somewhere on that list:
Good writers are not born. Good writers develop. They teach themselves. They write all the time. And that's truly the only way to become a better writer. Every skill requires practice. Even singers born with amazing voices have to train them. Even athletes born with significant abilities practice and condition to become better. Writing is the same way. You can't improve if all you do it sit around and bemoan that you're a terrible writer.
Related to that, good writing never happens on a first draft. NEVER. You may think that you're first draft is pretty phenomenal, and it may be good, but it will always benefit from revision. Writing is never truly "finished." There's just a deadline to turn it in. You shouldn't expect to produce a perfect paper on a first try, and expecting that from yourself is one of the worst causes of writer's block. Start somewhere, anywhere. Get something on paper. Then build on it.
You are not a "bad" writer. You're not "bad" at English. If you truly believe that you're just always going to be bad at English, someone, somewhere failed you.
Good writers are good readers. The two are inseparable. If you want to become a better writer, then become a better reader. It's a fact that we best learn and understand language through immersion. So immerse yourself in the English language. Yes you've been speaking it your whole life, but spoken language differs from written language on many levels. To be a better writer, you have to read good writing.
Good grammar does not equivocate to good writing. The end. Every great writer has had a great editor, too.
We read and write every single day. Any student who tells me that they're "never going to use this stuff again" after a composition course better be prepared to be laughed at. We do it all the time. What is Facebook? Twitter? MySpace (does anyone actually use MySpace anymore)? Texting? It's all social networking. Networking that requires communication. It's amazing to me that students today can type 140 characters, click a button, and reach millions of people around the world. And they tell me they're never going to use the things they learn in my class? Sure, facebooking and tweeting does not require MLA or APA documentation. But it is a form of writing. A form of writing that has it's own form, rules, and even language. That's what I teach in my class: How to determine the type of writing needed, the audience you're trying to reach, the methods to go about communicating what you want to say, and the language needed to be clear and concise. Never going to need the skills I'm trying to show you? BALDERDASH.
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