I'm off for the whirlwind

tour of the metro areas in a few hours...Austin, Dallas, Houston, and lastly, San Antonio. Love to everyone and of course, Merry Christmas. May peace be unto us all.
Jen

To Do

The academic life things that must be finished before the holiday ends:
1) Kathy Griffin Commentary-sent to Experiential Education
2) Co-Teaching Article-sent to NRC
3) 4304 Binder and syllabus
4) 5314 syllabus
5) Book Club Article-sent to technology
6) WebCT up

Jody's Brilliance: Part I

She says,"At one point I thought I might get my teaching credential. But then, I came to my senses."

So I ask, "Why do you think you wouldnt be a good teacher?" She says, "No patience, awkward around kids, hate flouresent lights, school lunches suck, I cant get up early, dont like having a schedule, hate anything regimented, dont like the sweaters with little embroidered critters on them, children are yucky... yeah, I prolly shouldnt do it."

I just love her.

Have you ever felt like this wasnt the life you were supposed to have? In that thought, is it you that thinks it isnt the right life, but it is or is it that in your freewill you created a life that you werent supposed to have? Or is it that you have exactly the life you are supposed to lead, and if it is a certain way, it is supposed to be that way? Is it all my fault?

THE GAME: Can you locate me in 1994?

Dumb Ass Days...

So, Im not so good at staying put for the end of the semester...You can't keep a good teacher down. So, after hearing about my "sickness" I stayed in bed Friday night, and Saturday...well, until I went to Austin for the Trail of Lights 5K with Jackie, David and her boys. Then, Sunday, was graduation. So, of course, I had to go to that. Then last night I worked on grades until about 3am because they were due at 9am but the MA students had their final due to me at midnight. Today I worked all day on these comprehensive binders (from 10-6pm). So, there is no rest for the weary. Who cares anyway if there is no couch? It feels so open and weird in the living room and I dont like it. Tomorrow's agenda includes getting a new license. Can you believe I didnt know until NRC 2 weeks ago that mine expired on my birthday? I only knew then because they asked about it at the airport. Im such a dumb ass sometimes. So, I simply have to go do that tomorrow, which is actually hard because I never can pass the eye test and have to get a note from my doctor and all sorts of goofy things.

Oh yes, the big news. Jody is outta the big house. Yep, you guys heard me. My best buddy, the one with 2 degrees from a premiere university, was held in custody for 3 days for assault and battery when she didnt really even do it. She says it is a horrible, inhuman place and that if she ever has to go back, give her the death penalty. Scary huh? Now, the trip to Vegas looks like it is off as they set her court date for Dec. 31st. I am so let down as I have been waiting to go see Bette there for over a year, much less the fact that it was to be on New Years Eve. I cannot tell you how low I am. No Bette, no real Christmas. Bummer.

I have "walking" pneumonia...

and have been in bed all day. I think that is a stupid title for a sickness. Ive had it for 3 weeks and duh, am walking...SOME of us have to work. Here is what the others do...

Facebook & Faces near Books

Facebook:
You know, I have decided I hate facebook. It is a voyeuristic place where one accepts pseduo-friends in order to peek in their window and see what they are doing now. I mean, seriously, I wasnt friends with some of these people when I was in High School. I knew OF them, they knew OF me, but it is just the fact that you want to see what is going on. I am not accepting applications for facebook friendship. Wanna be my friend? Come have lunch, dont send me a snowball, a candy cane, or any other dumb icon. Take me to see one.

Faces Near Books (People I Work With):
I hate playing games that you dont have to play. There is no reason to hurt others or stomp their psyche. A student said to me, "Dr. Wilson, I have this student that hits another kid and then says he is sorry. But he isnt really sorry, but he says he is." That is the tag line for work. The faces near books say they want to a) play together nicely, b)make the workplace have an enticing atmosphere, c) collaborate for the common good. They want the Preamble. BUT, what they do is run a race, playing as if only one can make it, one can win. They engage in the zero-sum game, as if there is only enough for one, that there will not be enough for everyone. Then, it seems as if they look back and are mad everyone else was running too...that they are "sorry" and wish us well. Fuck that. I want work friends. I need them. So, how does one have friends, not engage in the race yet know that some have creating a race. Still, I must exist in a workplace that feigns its "sorry."

Hollah Daze

I havent blogged in awhile so I guess I better get you all caught up. I am sitting on an airplane to Austin from Orlando where I was attending (and presenting) at NRC (National Reading Conference). It was a strange conference this year as the hotel called for everyone to be out in these buildings, far away from the general area, and seemingly separated from each other…they called it “resort style.” What it meant though was that I didn’t see those that I normally do. I saw some, missed others, and had a general productive time. I am thinking now of all the pieces of writing I need to get done, to work on, to begin the arduous process of publishing somewhere.
1. My Dissertation, 2. Kathy Griffin Commentary, 3. Co-Teaching Commentary, 3. BookClub Article, 4. Professor Identity Piece, 5. My DeSoto BookClub piece, 6. Romanian Piece, 7. Co-Teaching Article, 8. Blogging Article, 9. Dowli’s Story, and 10. Learning to Read the Academy: What I have learned Article…there are more, I know. But sheesh, I don’t even like to write, much less be judged on its effectiveness! But, I digress.
I spent Thanksgiving with Loretta, eating yummy foods prepared by my personal chef. It was scrumptious. For the holidays, I am sticking around my house as much as possible. Im going to try to catch up on my work and enjoy some quiet time with my animals. As of now, Diane is coming to San Antonio on the 19th and I will head to Dallas on the 21st. I will stay there till Christmas Eve and then come back down to Austin. Ill spend Christmas with Loretta I suppose and then head home to SA where I will be until December 29th when I head to Las Vegas to see the Divine Miss M at Caesar’s Palace. Loretta, Jody, and Karen are all coming too. I just can’t wait! I want money from all my friends to buy stuff at the Bette shop there. I just know it will be expensive. Contributions can be sent directly to me: cash, checks and money orders accepted.
Zoey is growing up. She is cute as a button, sleeps on my bed, loves shoes like her mom (although I don’t normally eat them), and adores the cat. Carmencita hates Zoey, loves food, and purrs like a motorboat. Mouser dog is a tired little pupper, sleeps a lot, but has the most soulful and loving eyes. She is my baby dog. You all will see them this year on my Christmas card.
So, hidey ho neighbors, I am still around!

Thanks-giving

Thanks to my car, which seems to keep on ticking, I am now the owner of a new couch. Oh yes, a new, fabulous mocha (notice I didnt say brown for the mere fancy effect) will be coming to my house in about 2 weeks. As of now, I am on my rug with a lawn chair (thanks to Sherry). The animals are confused, especially Cita who has taken over my bed because of th lack of a couch back. I should have waited to sell my old Craigslist couch so as to have one. I put it on Craigslist (to dust we will return) and in a couple hours it was sold. I felt compelled to give it to this youngster who so wanted it. I gave in and sold him the chair too. I am so malleable. So, Thank you God I finally found a couch I liked.

Now, I am getting over Strep Throat which has turned into a rampant couching coldy mess. Ive been in bed all weekend. Actually, I cant believe the weekend is over as I think I have been awake for only a few hours at a time. Back to the grind, I guess.

Semester #5 of Professorhood is winding down. I have grading to do and things to read, but I am more worried about all these damn conferences to go to. What ever got into me to send so many in? I think I was so scared that my writing wouldnt get in that I over did it. I leave for Orlando on Tuesday Dec. 1.

As for the holiday, I will be writing for NRC and driving to Dallas after Turkey Day. Loretta is cooking, which means I will probably gain 3 pounds. Luckily I am smart and have been dieting for a week to lose 3 to balance it out. I will then go on Friday to Dallas to see my family. It is a good time as my grandpa's 95th birthday is on Dec. 3. I think it is 95. I guess when you get that up there they all run together! I just cant do another yelling, lack of family loving holiday. Im too old. I quit.

I am an American, I am.

I am out at a school, waiting for my last observation, readying myself for the race to the airport for a flight at 1. I have been thinking about the possibility for change that is upon us as Barak Obama takes office...A friend of mine, whom I was texting last night during the speeches, thinks Obama is nothing but rhetoric. Ive been pondering her thoughts this morning. As I entered the school and the Pledge of Allegiance was being blasted overhead, I was, for the first time since beginning to vote, proud of our country. I have felt so disconnected and negative towards our country for such a long time. Now, I dont want to move to Canada (although if Palin came on board I might of had to) and I do think that the United States is a good place to be. However, since I have been teaching (which is not much longer than I have been voting), I merely stood at the Pledge, not said it, not placed my hand over my heart. Stood. My kids would ask me about it each year and I said, "When you get older and are a voting member of our country, you too can choose to say it." The end. They never really thought anything about it, I think mostly because there are a lot of things that adults dont do that we make our children do. But for me, it was more than that; it was my personal statement about how uninspiring our country is, how the lack of leadership does not establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, or even promote the general welfare. That is to say nothing about securing the blessings of liberty to those children whose eyes I looked into everyday. It was my riot, my rage against the machine. I have high hopes for Mr. Obama, but I also feel that if, in the minimum, I get inspiration, speeches reminiscent of Martin Luther King, and a country I can be proud to be apart of, it will have been more than I have gotten since my birth here in the land that I want to love. So, for the first time since I became an active member of The United States of America, All Hail the Chief!

Prayer for MY newly elected President

May you always remember those who chose you to serve, and in their serving, may you help us, lead us, and defend us. Let there be light!

Dear Mr. President

Wouldn't it be grand to have a president that took this song and answered each of the questions? As our new president takes over the United State of America, my thoughts to him are 3. #1: Don't forget who you want to be, #2: Don't forget to walk next to those below you, and 3: Never stop working to better the world. It is what we expect and want from you, your best. Good Luck tomorrow, President Obama, good luck.

Zoey says, "Ruurrr...gurrr..."

Howl-oween

This weekend is Halloween and although I was supposed to dress as Bette and have a fabulous costume to inspire the divine, instead I spent the weekend with Logan, the sweetest boy in the world. We chased dogs, threw rocks, handed out 10 bags of candy, and ate pancakes two mornings in a row. I wish I had gotten to spend time with his mom, but it didn't seem to be working out that way. Still, what a joy to hug that boy! The most worn costume this year was a "fairy" for girls (better than Britney Spears!) and for boys, "Spiderman" or a "pirate." My boy was Black Spiderman, which is according to Logan is, "totally not regular red Piderman."

The Garden of Good and Evil

After a striking battle of “good teacher” v. “bad teacher,” staring Dr. Mouser and Jenny respectively, Jenny dressed in jeans and heels ducked and shimmied to watch an idol wreak havoc on this over-indulged world in which we all live. She brought 6 of her fellow humans to such an event, wondering if their souls would too be sucked into the critical thinking such an idol requires to be found funny. Is that the high expectations that teachers talk about? Do we really want our students to be exposed to the crassest and most brash idiocies of our world? To be plummeted into a place where even Oprah is not a deity and all gossipy, bitchy, and hilarious inanities of our world are not only not only allowed but, encouraged?

I took my students there last night. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the same time, as if I was illuminating something about myself. As if I was saying, “See, it isn’t just me with the oppositional relationship to the universe! See, you can stand up and do it too!"

Why do I have this need to shock students into life? Why do I feel like they need saving from the arduous walk to become like everyone else, to bring them back from the brink of personal inquiry death?

The one indispensable weapon I learned to use early on was sarcasm. I’m sure my mother could tell stories regarding my mockery that would baffle and beleaguer any mom today. My penchant for smartass remarks still does not make me beloved of authority figures, who wonder if I am a bit "too sarcastic" or "overly left," or (this is a favorite) that I have a "bad attitude." So be it. Maybe I am, but is wanting people to think and laugh about the ways our world works a bad attitude? I mean, who allowed this person to “be in charge” of me anyway? I mean, the only way someone can be in charge is if the others let her, right? So, I don’t let them. I will let them lead, but not lead me over a cliff that I wonder if is nearby. But, I digress…my sardonic turn of mind at least enabled me to, to the best of my ability, see the world as it is, while at the same time hold on to my sanity and my individuality in a world where not many are who they say they are, and even fewer recognize that they send their representative to their life most of the time. And that's Kathy Griffin, the lady we watched in shock and awe last night, with smiles and leg slaps...

The bad teacher (myself) took her students to last night to see Kathy Griffin, the comedienne. Like her, I also suspect I learned very early on how to use irony and sarcasm as a weapon. I can't think of many environments in the United States that are as profoundly hostile to women as are Hollywood and the entertainment industry. Like me, she has a sharp mind and a caustic wit and has plunked herself smack dab in the middle of one of the most ironic and misogynistic careers there is. What could possibly be more fascinating, or more naturally dramatic? Teaching and Hollywood are so similar.

See, here's what I love about the show: it's about being a serious, hard-working professional woman fighting an uphill battle to make it -- or sometimes just trying make it out alive-- in an industry that is notoriously misogynist. I mean, how often do you see a TV show, a movie, anything in our culture that, more than anything else, is about a woman's love of, and devotion to, her craft? Even such chick-friendly fare as Sex and the City was all about sex, romance, and friendship and completely shied away of any realistic portrayal of the working world.

Why the love for Kathy Griffin? The reasons are many. I'll start with the blatantly narcissistic ones. We Kathy G.'s have to stick together, for one thing, but it goes beyond that. I'm a loyal fan of her Bravo reality TV show, My Life on the D List, and from watching it I have learned that we have more than a few things in common. The right-wing parents? Check. A family who tries to portray the DuPonts, but has not exactly hit the mark? Double check. Kathy and I also love dogs, hate Bush, enjoy fashion, and are très gay-friendly.

At some level, like all of us sarcastic, life-questioning souls, Kathy really does seem to ache for a seat at the cool kids' table, a slot on the A list. Yet at the same time, she can't repress the urge to mock. Even in circumstances when it's important for her to be on her best behavior, she'll get a gleam in her eye, and you just know that in no time at all she will indeed be, “Going There”, the consequences be damned. I think my colleagues see that same gleam, that same irreverence for "the rules” in me. Perhaps that is why no one wants to sit by me in meetings? In her fascinating ambivalence, the push-and-pull relationship between her longing to be accepted and her need to rebel, she enacts a form of a drama that is familiar to many women: to what extent do I reject the trappings of patriarchy, and to what extent do I knuckle under to them? This drama plays itself out in countless ways in women's lives, from questions like should I diet? and should I wear heels?, to dilemmas such as should I take my husband's name? and should I speak up for myself at work and risk being labeled a bitch and a troublemaker, or stay silent and pay the price of continuing unfair treatment?

It's led to some great television moments. Since forever, I've been irritated by the way so many stars thank God or Jesus when they win some award. I'm not sure what I hate more about it: the sanctimony (as in the implication that the award was won because of the star's superior religious faith or moral virtue), the shallow trivialization of religion (don't you think Jesus has more important things to worry about than who wins some crappy little award?), or the narcissism (the notion that, yes indeed, Jesus does care who wins, and he made me win because I'm the most special, dammit!). I've dreamed about someone walking up there one day to collect one of those fucking awards that no teacher gets and saying something like, "God must really not give a shit about who wins this award because I won and I'm an atheist."

Well, last year, as she collected her Emmy, Kathy Griffin pretty much said just that. The exact quote is as follows:

“Can you believe this shit? I guess hell froze over. … a lot of people come up here and thank Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus. So, all I can say is, "Suck it, Jesus!" This award is my god now.”

Her comments as spoken were much funnier than they read on the page. In this instance as in so many others, Kathy's humor is attitudinal and contextual; outside the context of that awards ceremony, and minus her inimitable timing, delivery, and facial expressions, those remarks may not seem that funny. But given where and how she said them, they were outrageously hilarious. Context is everything like Vygotsky posited. Don’t judge my class until you’ve taken it yourself. Then—judge away. It is your right.

Kathy's gimlet eye and no-bullshit sense of the absurd spares no one, least of all herself. One of the things I love about her is her utter frankness about qualities in herself that women are supposed to hide. I too am honest to my students. I try very hard to allow them to see the humor in being a teacher, in attempting to teach others how to do something that no one has the answers to, least of all you! To think that we should corral young minds and make them like us is so funny to me! We don't know and often if we do, don't like, who we are!

I think that like me though, underneath Kathy's self-deprecation lies a savvy, tough-minded professional with a healthy sense of self-respect and a shrewd appreciation of her own talent. She's perennially the underdog, it is true. And yet, while she's far from stuck-up or full of herself, she doesn't accept the second-rate niche Hollywood has carved out for her, either. She always tries to do her best, and she's forever trying to kick up her career up to the next level. She finds herself in many situations that are unworthy of her, humiliating, even -- for example, performing at 9:30 in the morning to trade shows full of un-hip, middle-aged straight guys who don't have a prayer of getting her humor. Even so, she plunges bravely ahead and gives it her best shot. She bombs and admits it. She has the heart and soul of a true human trooper, and I, for one, love her for that. I too don’t want to be mediocre, to settle for less, to let myself off the hook because something is hard or I “might get fired.”

Most of the time, though, Kathy keeps shit real by deploying her wicked sense of humor. She uses her penetrating wit to puncture the overstuffed egos and sense of entitlement of those reigning (in her world celebrities and in mine, administrators), and to call bullshit on such pieties as religion, compulsory chastity, mandatory ass-kissing of anyone, and not mocking the mockery we call government, to name a few. Kathy's honesty has alienated many people in the industry she works in, but she refuses to play nice, and she refuses to back down. The world could use a lot more like her and I want every student to get that. I want them to get that it isn’t about Kathy’s foul mouth, political agendas, or racy comments. It is about her right and ability to say them, to be a stand for who she is and what she thinks—to question the world in ways that make others think.

Did the “bad” teacher do something she shouldn’t have? Maybe--For some. For others, welcome to the far left, where nothing is off limits and, well the world is fucking hilarious. Play the game, people, or get off the fucking road. Here in SA, you drive too slow.

Oh yes...

And MY BACK still FUCKING HURTS as soon as the muscle relaxers wear off.

Okay, in regards to work:
One professor, I'll call Scraggley: She is the biggest baby, a loner, and someone who I also, do not care to work with. You know, she was my mentor? Ha! Every time I talk to her about the reading dept., she changes the subject and we end up talking about her (and my) animals. She is not a team player and runs to her daddy (boss boy) for counsel. Aren't we old enough to be professional and talk to the ones who we have the issue with. This 3321 issue (alignment etc) was strike three for me. She is NOT a reading professor! Seriously, if she doesnt want to align practices and make the dept. better, then she doesnt belong with us. Im done with her. She is invisible.

As for the office spaces: If they start building with all my shit in there and dust starts flying, Im protesting and getting a doctor's note for my allergies and any other possible condition dust can cause. Of course, the compensation will be hard to get...It takes friggin months for reinbursement for anything, you know.

Speaking of compensation: I HATE the way money works around here. Now, I am just going to put this out there. I am single which means there is one income in this household. Now, that means that by the time I pay my house, school loans, medical (from cancer long ago), cable, electric, and credit card, there is nothing much left. So, taking 2 months (which is very normal) is too long. I hold it on my credit card and get fees. I bet the fees Ive racked up are equal to the money Ive received from the university. I think it is single people prejudice. I do, I really do.

As per Boss Boy: He doesnt like me-and truthfully, I think he is an idiot. I wont work on the PDAI with him, and I hate that he is head of anything. What the hell does he do all day? He prolly wants that fucking closed in office so he can hide easier, keep his stacks messier, and segregate more from those who attempt to hold him accountable.

Funny to mention the idea of minutes, as I mentioned it to him in the travel meeting.

Jen: You know, Jim, this is a lot of info. Are we reporting it in the faculty meeting.

Boss Boy: Yes.

Jen: WE should take minutes in our committees, that way we can remember all of it and report during the big faculty meeting. Should I take notes?

Boss Boy: I'll tell everyone.

Jen: (writing anyway)

Boss Boy: Divine, can I have your notes to be sure and remember it all for the faculty meeting.

Jen: No.

So, my question is: Did we hear about travel? Did we get numbers? Does Jim know how much we are spending? He signed off on 5,000$ for one professor and so far, 2,000 on me. Dumbass.


Ebough about work. the real story here is that my baby dog, Mitzie Mouser, 13 years old was bitten and shaken at the ghetto dog park we USED to go to down by work. She has a sprained neck, bad bite wound, and a cornea scratch. Fuck pit bulls and German Shepherds. One picked her up from under the picnic table where she was resting in the shade, dragged her, and shook her back and forth like a rag doll. We were both shaking. Please send love to her in your thoughts. I cant lose her, I just cant.I ran over, grabbed her shaking body and began stroking her with which she winced and cried. We both have cried. After the money at the emergency vet for antibiotics, pain, xrays, blood work, and visit, we are both sad and depressed. What a week, what a fucked up week.

This week has got to be better. I am observing student teachers tomorrow morning and then working some...Ill be home early to check on the Mouse. I feel bad leaving her for any length of time. My sweet, sweet girl. Even Zoey knows something is wrong. I caught Zoe licking Mitzie's back (where the bite was)earlier. Now Mouser is in her UT shirt which covers the owie.

Conservationist to Consumist

I forgot to tell everyone the tidal wave news. Last week, I opened my water bill. $600 worth of water bill was staring at me. So, I immediately called, figured out how to read the meter, and freaked out when the meter reading came back as correct and that in the last 10 days since the reading, I had used another 19,000 gallons. In total? 52,000 gallons of water for a bill of over $1,000. The sprinkler guy has been out and fixed the issue, but how can I, someone who moved to conserve the environment, someone who diligently recycles, lives fairly green, handle the fact of 52,000 wasted gallons? Every single time I turn on the water, I think about it. Can I ever call myself (the girl who tried to take the styrofoam cup back to Sonic to have them refill it, a conservationist? Poor me (literally and figuratively), soggy yard, and a back that is so painful!

Had my Birthday...

So, its been awhile since my last post. So, here goes. My birthday came and went. I ate cake and more cake. Jackie and Shelly, my reading colleagues took me to lunch and brought a wonderful little white cake to celebrate. They also got me this fun, charm bracelet with a big rhinestone shoe on it and a fabulous purple wallet. Bling! It was wonderful to spend the time laughing and eating with them both. Then, I went to Austin for a little shin-dig put on by Loretta. We ate carrot cake, drank wine, gin and tonics and other sundry quaffs. I had a great time juggling all of the people and realizing how many "walks of life" my friends come from. I only invited a few, but to see Dawn and Claudia was terrific. Dawn even bought me a pair of shoes! Funny thing though, they are the exact shoes as Shelly bought the other day. Who else wears pink high heel thongs with diamond rings emblazoned all over it? Well, Shelly and I obviously. So, that is the birthday saga.

All the girl-animals are good. Cita is loud, Mouser is quiet, and Zoey is a handful. My back is out and I have been in bed all day.

Sleeping

My bed and my sleeping pills are driving me nuts. My bed hurts my back. The taco spot is directly in the middle and where some tacos (okay, most tacos) are yummy, this one sucks. The sleeping pills the doctor gave me to help me sleep, do just that: they help me sleep. Now, without them, I am awake and it is 4am. Ive been "in bed" since 12 tossing and turning, waking, getting an ice pack, taking Tylenol, taking a coveted back-spasm pill,moving the dog to the floor, moving the cat to the floor, pacing, getting an ice cream sandwich, and now, blogging. I am about to buy a fucking temperpedic, $2,0000 bed and say, "The hell with it." Maybe playing "hunt for the best price online" will make me feel better. Now I am laying in bed with like 5 pillows propping me up. Maybe I'll be a zombie for Halloween.

Enough bitching-no, wait, one more thing. My face broke out on Thursday and I have giant, red zits exploding from my chin, forehead, and under my nose. To top off the pain and sorrow from that, they are the "pop and re-pop kind." Poor me.

On a more pleasant note, and mow that I got all the bitching out, I went to California this weekend. Yes, I jetted to LA for 48 hours. It felt like deja vu when I hit the Austin airport. For my birthday (which is Thursday) Diane gave me a companion pass to fly with her when she went to LA. Double fun. I got to see Jody AND I got to sit talk with Diane for 3 hours each way. I miss them both. So, I drove to Austin on Friday morning and the crack of dawn and dropped the mutts off at Aunt Wretta's. Diane picked me up and we hurriedly parked her purple car in the $7 lot and caught the parking lot bus to the departures. It was one of those, "Hurry, the bus is leaving and we are late" moments, only to arrive at the bus and it is on break. You know the kind. I graded horrible edpsych papers the whole way and Diane did crosswords. Once we got there, Diane rented a car to go to her sister's in Santa Monica, I hitched along and Jod met us there as we arrived-literally. As Diane and I pulled up to her little sister Josie,s, Jody was there with her ever attached GPS. Leaving Diane, we went to Venice beach to eat and walk the boardwalk. 2 hours of talking about everything from politics to her baby tooth, we walked the lively beach, never really getting in the sand and instead settling for noticing the people and the beach homes. I love architecture. That night I had a horrible stomachache from the mass amounts of food we ate and lunch and Jody had been up since 4:45 so we made like old people and splayed out watching her 37'' television. On Saturday, we went to an Italian street fair where we sampled pizza and ravioli, pesto and gelato. We even saw the pope carved from wood. Is it wrong to call the Pope Woody? After walking Hollywood Blvd. and Jody internally thinking the car was stolen, we headed to Melrose Ave where neither of us bought a damn thing. You know I still wasnt totally feeling well as one of the shoe places offered us 50% off and I still coulndt find a damn thing that I wanted-and they were nice shoes. No Fluevog-no nuttin. Trader Joes (which we need in Austin so badly) and wine, and cheese and great chatting, we ended the evening with the first season of Dexter. Well, I did. Jody fell asleep after one episode and I watched close to 4. HE is so cute! How can a murderer be so damn cute? I was on the floor at this point because that is when my back began the spasm. In the morning we went to my favorite coffee shop, Aroma Cafe, in Studio City to meet Diane. It was a Sunday so the masses were out with their puppies and the weather was perfect. I was jealous that Jody was going to stay and work some after Diane and I left. Left we did. I graded, she crossworded. Season premiere of Dexter at Loretta's upon my return and the most yummy meatloaf made at my request. Who would have ever thought that meatloaf would become a favorite meal? Meat and Loaf together in one brilliant pan...I could almost puke thinking about the raw meat...and then, the image switches to the taste. Delicious. Loretta is the bomb-bigity cook. I drove to San Antonio at 10. The end.

"I work my a&^ off, Jeff!"

Work: Found out today that we have a new, revised, budget for travel-for the jet-setting conferences that they want us doing. $2000. Now, I am not saying that is something to shun, but it is a problem when they tell us today, after we have worked our asses off to get the proposals in, to do reviews, and to be accepted. It's too late. They need to pay for the work we did. I shouldnt have to choose after I was told I could go. It doesnt seem fair.

Home: Last Friday my work threw me a housewarming-actually the new hire (who is lovely and sweet) did most of the work, including buying decorations (it was a Morrocan theme with throw pillows and candles all over). It was a fun time with much alcohol (maybe too much for me) and most everyone from work. Come 5, I was worried because no one was here. Then, everyone in a little house-with much food. I think the party ended at 11, and I was left to clean up crock pot cheese in the morning. I cant wait to have my favorites back!

I head to LA to visit my best buddy Jody Friday, just for the weekend. Now, I must take Zoey to the park. Hope she doesnt eat a duck!

Mitzie Mouse Tells It From Jail

So, for those of you that "got in," through the metal detectors and around the bend. My blog had to go incognito as my chair found it, read it, and made a joke about it! So, it is all ephemeral now. Like real life, you see me and then you dont.

As for work, classes are crazy and for some reason this semester, I am funny. I cant seem to stop making jokes as examples! It is weird. I am beginning to balance but it will again increase on Monday when I have to add in the field based portions.

On the home front, it is animal central. Mitzie is mad most of the time, upset, and walks around with her head down. She bites at Zoey if she gets too close. Zoey is non-stop energy. I walk her 2 miles in the morning and ride my bike while she runs for another 2 in the evening. Still, she is hyper. Woosh. On Thursday she goes to doggie daycare, has a special young girl hired to drive her home, feed both, walk both, before I come home at 10:30. Should I let her go another day?

People from work put together a house warming for me on Friday. Im nervous. As I have been dealing with all this depression, I am more interested in being alone. I like to walk the animals and think, zone with the TV, work around the house on little tasks...I dont want to have to be "me." Im not sure who she is but I have to play her.

How can you stay mad?

I'm scared, are you?

What does matter about Palin? What it tells you about McCain.

Here I’m echoing an emerging consensus, but I think it’s basically right on. First, there are reports appearing now that McCain himself, as well as Lindsay Graham, had been pushing for either Ridge or Lieberman as the running mate, but they were daunted by opposition from anti-abortion Republicans to either choice. If this is true, this tells you that McCain isn’t going to be able to govern as a “maverick” or independent. He’s the nominee, it’s his campaign to run, but he doesn’t feel able to do what he wants.

Second, look at what he does when he’s up against difficulty or opposition: he does something which is wildly impulsive, with almost no planning or forethought. The one thing you could say about the invasion of Iraq is that there was a lot of planning that went into the intention to invade: the evidence now suggests that the Bush Administration came into power with a possible attack on Iraq at the top of their wish list, well before 9/11, and were quick to execute that plan when the opportunity arose. In the current global and domestic situation, I really don’t want someone in the Oval Office who comes up against a difficult and confusing situation and says, “Fuck it, go drop some paratroopers over there. No, I don’t want to do scenarios and planning, I just want to do it. Go.”

The more details about Palin that come out, the more it becomes clear that she is an appalling choice to be a vice-president for a President who has a reasonable chance of becoming ill or dying in office. And the more it becomes clear that the McCain campaign scarcely bothered to vet or review her as a choice. This is another reason why politically no one should talk about her family or personal choices, because there are plenty of other issues. But chiefly, it all comes back to McCain himself, and what this says about the kind of decision-maker he would be as President.Oh yes, and let's make a pregnancy pact and not tell anyone the outcome for 7 months. Whose in?

Who is this person?

called ME. I think I have multiple personality disorder. I am Jen to friends when they are happy with me and Jenny when they are trying to be more formal. I am Dr. Wilson when I am rebelling, talking my heart out, teaching those out there to think and act; I'm Jenny Wilson when I am not seen, ubiquitous, and common. I am Mom to a variety of deities. I am someone that I don't recognize sometimes, a person with traits I've never seen, and a person with talent and skill I've never experienced. I am someone with good fashion sense and someone with the worst weekend-wear coined. I am a daughter who is bored by the complacency and whose family lives Norman Rockwallian cerebrally. I am a sister who loves her brother, hopes for his success beyond belief, but is scared for the lives of all of us involved. I am a best friend, to whom I don't know, but to someone. I am a grand-daughter who washes the feet of her grandpa and takes her grandma to drink a margarita, in a most dedicated and holy way, wishing they could live forever and ever, amen.

Wow-that is deep. Maybe this blog should just have daily activities...oh, then it would be: slept, walked dogs, ate, worked, ate, walked dogs, slept, walked dogs, ate, worked, ate, walked dogs...you get the idea.

Fist-In the Desk

One of the most embarassing moments ever-

The Shit Tornado

So, I just got home from a 12 hour work day and the house was full of the heavy aroma of shit. Little Zoey Scooter was left in my bedroom, door shut but able to roam inside freely. Why was she free? Because I felt bad about having her in her little kennel for 12 hours. So, I left her out. When I came home, Mouser was happy and jumpy and excited. She seemed her old self (no pun intended) until I asked her if she wanted to go get Zoey. She looked at me like, "No, not really." Opening the door, there was Zoey, tangled in my bra (which was hanging on the door nob). She had it hooked on her all day and proceeded to shit and walk in it all day, back and forth. It was a shit tornado. She had to have a bath it was so bad. I think I am done. Mitz is upset, Carmencita is ready to pack and move out, and I am tired. I think she is going to go stay a bit with Aunt Loretta and see if she can help us. Otherwise, I think I will have to let her go. I think I will cry if I have to. Is sending her to Aunt Wretta like sending an unruly child to her dad?

Work is busy-too busy. Im overwhelmed and trying hard and I am afraid by the time I get to my 17pm-10pm class, my neurons aren't firing and I am mush. I didn do a very good job tonight, even though I was ready, had read, and planned.

Lastly, I am adding some pictures of the dog and my house...There you go Mom!

I worked hard all weekend until I just had to say stop. Only a couple things got done, but it was the best I could do. Everything seems to take longer than I thought. Even this case of the hiccups is resisting my plea to finish already. I did the strands for the National Drop Out Committee, Read Anita's thesis, read some for the assessment class. I didnt work out but I didnt watch TV either. I worked and the list should be longer, I must find time to write for me. Where is that time? I think I need to make my life busier. I was so productive when I was busy to the max. Is that what I need? I think I am going to volunteer at the SNIPSA place or the humane society or something.

Tomorrow I will load up Mouse and Zoey and head to Austin, returning with just one dog. I feel the tears and lonesomeness coming. Ive definitely caught my mom's disease. Carmencita the cat is the only one who is fine with Zoey going. Blow the foghorn!

Chapter 2 of the woman who lived in a shoe.

There is no room for me on my bed. Maybe I should get a mule and ride to another inn. The bed is FULL of animals...2 dogs, a cat, and a fat human. I think I will have to sleep criss-cross-apple-sauce!

Work today was good. I taught ALL day, but seemed to make them laugh and yet follow the lecture well. I like it when I am prepared for class; things just go better. Duh. Isn't it what I teach?

The Drama Queen

I think I am, I must be. Today I lost it. For all that I am, I felt dejected, uncared for, dumb, and plain used. It has been leading up to this, boiling and toiling, until yesterday the anger and today the tears. Luckily, the tears were among only a couple friends and not at work. Where to start?

This summer I worked full time, teaching everything they let me get my teach on. My break consisted of one week at the very beginning when I went to Sonoma, CA and broke my foot (Cirque du Soliel tryouts). Then I taught and taught and taught. Then one more week off for which I spent the entire time in Dallas helping my grandparents. Then, school started and as of the Sunday before school on Monday, I didnt know what I was teaching. Now, some of it was perhaps my fault. However, it was circumstantial mostly. For example, I had been working all semester on a project named PDAI (Professional Development Academy Internship) which included an assessment class which met at the school and paired our student teachers with kiddos for tutoring. I got the school, the principal, the books, the supplies, the syllabus...but the students kept coming. Our college is in the midst of a growth spurt which is lovely. I do love the new faces and want us to grow and prosper. But the classes grew over 30 which made it impossible to fit everyone in-that meant 60 people in a little ole library! So, I said I didnt and couldnt teach it out int he field. My department head told me, "Then you don't have to teach it," and promptly gave the classes to my friend (whom I called to help us , as we have many students and not enough faculty. Now, when she was given the class, she was told she didnt have to teach it out in the field. How fair is that? Then there was this research class for which I taught the first half in the summer. So, naturally I was signed up for the second half this fall. And the class grew and grew. Now that class is a master's class and the class in which the students begin writing their thesis. With too many, it is impossible for me to edit and advise them all. So, I went to my chair who said if I took the class I would be in charge of them all. I refused. So, he gave it to another faculty member who was told he did not have to advise them all. Not fair. Then, there was the issue of a foundations class which had grown to 62 people. 62! Because he had split classes for two of my colleagues and they were given the opportunity to then teach both sections (making only one prep and half the class time as they only came either T or THURS), I asked to have the same done. HE refused saying he could find someone else to teach the other half because it was a foundations class. So screwed over three times and not in a good screw kinda way! So, yesterday was the breaking point. The chair came in and told our department that no one was going to be able to get their overload. There were 3 people (including him) getting it as we had all agreed to teach an additional class for 3,000$. He told us we could teach it but wouldnt get paid. What the hell is that? So, of course, I said no. Now today I went to my writing meeting and found out that only myself and the other faculty member werent allowed to and himself and his right hand woman were allowed to. What the fuck is that? I had a baby tantrum in front of my writing group friends. Tears, snot, anger...I was fed up-even the 10000 calorie, fresh-baked roll covered in real frosting didn't help. Now, hours later, Im over it-still wondering if I made a mistake coming here to work-but over the issue. The department chair did try and make it better by offering me another choice. He tried.

Now, I am sitting in the office with two pups-one newly infertile and sleeping away on an ottoman, cuddled in a baby blanket and one in her bed, round like a rump roast, snoring to some weird phenobarbitol induced dream. I think I have inherited my mother's sickness. I call it dogitis. It is when you see a dog, you fall in love and can't stop yourself. I'm in love I think...I'm going to be the old lady who lived in a shoe, who had so many animals she didn't know what to do. I hope it is a bright colored platform.

I teach all flipping day tomorrow-hours with NO break so I must head to bed for a low key computer episode of Kathy Griffin's Life on the D-List.

The vortex of want and need

This past Friday my dear friend Loretta came to visit me in SA. It was nice to have her hear and I was excited to see her. As always there were plans of shopping and food. Those were shot to shit when on our way to eat a fabulous sushi dinner, a little stray poodle was hunkered down by a stoplight, trying to cross the street right next to the highway. I looked at Loretta, she looked at me. Yeah-you got it. We stopped, got the dog (who stunk so bad our eyes were watering) and proceeded to find a clinic that could tell us if she was microchiped. One guess. Nope. I hate the way that San Antonio thinks dogs are trash, that they can just let them loose if they are sick. This little girl, hereby called Zoey, was heartworm negative but had tapeworms. My favorite part was the look on Loretta's face when she realized the butt of the dog (which they were leaking out of) had been on her lap for over an hour! After a bath for the flea infestation, de-worming, and a notice that she wasn't spayed, she came home with us. In all, we were dealing with this mutt from about 5:30-11pm. That was the 210$ night. The next morning, calls to the SPCA, Humane Society and plentiful rescue groups. I want to lodge a complaint about that! All of the recuse groups said they get their dogs from the pound and wouldn't take one from me. The SPCA Humane Society places were "full." Yeah, you heard me, they wouldn't take her and told me to take her to the pound. Now, she is getting spayed on Wednesday and is being crate trained, housebroken, bathed daily, frontlined, walked, and cleaned up after until she can find a home. So, in all, the frontline is 15$, the first visit was 210$, the crate and bed was 75$, the spay is 70 for a grand total of $380, not including time. But of course, saving a dog? PRICELESS.

My House

First Day of School

Again. I am wondering as I write this how many "first days" I have endured. I mean really...K-12 all had one first day. The freshman-senior had 4X2 semesters which is 8, then teaching school was 3 times, then MEd was 2x2=4, then PhD was 4x2=8...so 36 in total, plus this last year of 4, and yesterday. That is a butt load, also known as 41. I have had 41 first days of school. Well, needless to say they don't keep me up and excited anymore. Weird though as each is different. So, yesterday was my 41st first day of school. I am teaching 4 courses (Foundations of Reading, Diagnosis and Remediation of Reading Difficulties, Cognitive and Developmental Psychology for Elementary Teachers, and Ditto for secondary teachers). That is also know as a lot of classes. I teach three of those on Thursday. So yesterday I taught from 2-3:30, 4-6:45, and 7-10. I was a tired person by the end. I was so exhausted I succumbed to Burger King for dinner and it tasted delicious.



Ive decided I am addicted to Diet Vanilla Cokes from Sonic. I mean, I crave them...the little ices, the sweet vanilla mixed with the cancer causing diet coke. Ummm. It is an expensive habit though unless you go between 2-4 for half price which I cant because I am working. $1.83 a day. I think that is why I am having to work an extra class this semester.

My brother, who moved to Houston a couple months ago, told me something shocking yesterday. He calls daily to check in which I love. He isnt drinking anymore, which I also love, so he uses the phone to get the support he needs. Anyway, he told me that he was "not going to hook up his cable because he gets a lot more done without the TV." What the hell? Okay, this is a guy who had all the extras when in Dallas. He has a 60 inch flat screen and TIVO and everything. He used to tease me incessantly about me not having cable. Now, I do and he is not getting it! The world is a crazy place. I think those in Hell are enjoying the cold front.

I've taken on curling my hair which is pretty. Wonder how long it will last. It is so long and looks cute when it is done (if the rain would stay at bay the frizzies would too!). I even like it on day two in a pony tail. It balances my Dumbo ears.

Could the rambling go on more?
So, I am working hard and missing people but don't feel like I want to sit and talk for hours on the phone. I think it is all the talking I have done in school so far. So, ciao.

Jen

Disposed of

Why are old people disposed of, cast away, let to rot? My grandparents, whom I love dearly, have family that live a mere 3 miles away. One drives past their house daily on the way to work. Yet, they have no one who is able to help. When I come in, I am responsible for everything-figure out the checkbook, the payments, what is happening at the house, clean this, grandpa that. Everything is a phone call, numerous phone calls, wait time, birth dates, pensions, social security...on and on. I have had to work on my grandpa's legs which have skin peeling off, boils, and other ouchies. Put lotion and chisel (yes, chisel) off the dry skin and other dead areas. My mom asked if I wanted to go eat Mexican food when I got home. Uh, no. So, that is where I have been this week, in Carrollton, being the best granddaughter that they have close-by-or at least trying.

I have 4 classes starting on Thursday that I have planned nothing for. I dont know what I will do. I spent last night from about 7-midnight at a coffee shop working, but only got a proposal out for the International Conference on Learning. I need to go to Barcelona, don't you all think?

So, to all of you who wonder where I am because I am not answering the phone...I am alive, just overworked and unable to think about talking on the phone for even one short call. I will be in touch.

I just...

don't wanna. I don't wanna do it. No, I don't. I don't!

Summer Break Realization

Okay, so in the last year, which for us teachers begins in August, I have taught 12 classes. 12! I have taught foundations of reading, MA reading foundations, content area literacy classes, a emergent literacy class for MA, an assessment and remediation class, a research methods class for MA students and an early childhood curriculum class. I am dead tired. The part of this job that is my favorite (teaching) feels not so fun! And now that the second summer session is ending (Thursday is the final exam), I realized that I have one week. One week! In that week I have to get my brother taken care of at his apartment in Houston, hire a nurse for my grandparents (include in that job cleaning out a room to rent and interviewing), and make syllabi and readings for 4 more classes. Oh yes, and post and grade the rest of the summer session stuff. Then, on the 18th, I begin it all again. Shit balls.

I did a fun thing this last Monday. I took Augustina, a child I taught in the 4th grade a few years back, to Fiesta Texas Six Flags. She is a lovely kiddo who came from Africa the year I taught her. As such, she had never been to an amusement park. The sounds, the expansive nature, the games were experiences that made her eyes swell. She twirled (as I watched) and we rode roller coasters till she begged to quit. I must say that I have always loved coasters, but perhaps I am getting old as I hurt my neck on the Tony Hawk coaster.

So, how do I spend the next couple of hours? Do I work on the article I am writing with Jackie? or the one with Diane? Do I start the syllabi? Or do I, go watch Flipping Out, and laugh at the craziness of someone else? Where does everyone get the energy?

Okay, I'm going to work on Jackie's article for one hour and then one syllabus for one hour. Then the new episode of Flipping Out.

Mitzie Mouser Dog

So, I have this idea that my dog, aka Mitzie Mouse, misses me when I am gone. I mean, why wouldn't I get that idea? She looks so forlorn when I leave, tail down, eyes away (I'd almost swear there were tears every damn time!) and when I return, she runs in circles, eyes alight, and tail wagging gleefully. However, today I have been home all day, working on AERA proposals. And where, might you ask, has the Mouser been? Laying next to my feet? No. Laying under the desk? No. In her bed which was brought into the office specially for her? No. Out in the living room on pallet? Yes. Who is the crazy one? I think it might be me.

If it was, I would claim it is because of the American Educational Research Association. Those 100 page abstracts and proposals and SIG's and Divisions. I mean am I division G, section 1 or maybe section 7? Does it go in a division or should I go for a SIG. It takes at least an hour to just plain submit the silly thing! Then I have to wait to hear if I was "chosen." I think that this notion of being "chosen" or "rejected" is not good for my wanning interest in professorhood. I mean, who wants to be constantly rejected? So, for me, my favorite data (my dissertation data) keeps being rejected. They say it isn't literacy enough, that the children couldn't have said the quotes I used (Are they saying I am a lier?), and that my notions of reading are not as good as theirs. Still, they accept other piddly things I work on just because they like the idea, literacy related or not. For example, a colleague and I co-taught a literacy methods class last Spring. There was not a thing literacy related to the proposal we submitted to NRC (National Reading Conference) other than the fact that the class was a reading methods course. But, they said they liked the idea of co-teaching, it was novel, and it got an acceptance. Fuckers.

So, today I have finished uploading and am about to go to dinner with a frenemy. You know, the kind you continue to see only rarely and every time you do, you remember why it was that you weren't seeing them? Then there is a hiatus and over time you forget again?

And this is real life.

Today is Wednesday (my personal favorite workday of the week). My best and most adamant admirer Diane came down yesterday and lightened my day with dinner and a slumber party. Normally an early to bed girl, she stayed up, did a crossword with me, and watched TV. When no one else can make me smile-she can. She left this morning at 7 so as to make it to work. I tried to stay up, to do a couple little things but fell asleep on the couch sometime around 8:30. So, here we go, beginning the day.

It is writing day. Now, that usually doesn't guarantee writing occurs for me, but that it is supposed to. I am in my office at home now, dog on the right, cat well, on the desk hovering and meowing, and am ready to begin. Yes, it is 11:00 am. Thanks for reminding me. Today, the days holds several things. 1) I must meet with two of my Master's students. They are coming to my house to talk about their thesis'. Anita is interested in neuroscience and its implications for classroom environments and Malori is working on the impact of low SES on minority aspirations. Then, I am going to get my 4304 class ready for tomorrow. Then, work on the co-teaching AERA proposal, then get my Content Area Literacy class ready for tomorrow which includes some grading. Before bed, I MUST work for at least an hour on my book club article.

Accept if space allows

It is 10:40pm and I am watching “Chalk,” and wondering if I miss being a classroom teacher (or if it just sounds better than my current occupation), and if so, how I can infuse my college teaching with the things I miss from classroom teaching. I need to take some time to brainstorm about what those “things” are.
1. Activities that are fun and promote critical thinking
2. Relationship building with the kids
3. Laughter
4. Recess
5. Teaching the students something they answer, “Wow!” or “Woah!” to.
6. When they know you, hug you, and want to be near you.

In response to:
1. In order to have #1 occur, I need to make time to plan for my college teaching. Each class, when planned well should take about 2 hours to plan. That’s 8 hours. Plan for that time too.
2. In order to build relationships with the students, I need to a) have them over to my house to build community; b) advise; c) meet students for margaritas or dinner; d) spend more time in my office so as to be around.
3. I think I have this now. My students tell me that they think my class goes fast and that I am funny. Still, for me, I must stop letting my subconscious get to me.
4. Give myself a break (like I give the students).
5. PLAN better.
6. See #2.

So, what is doable for me? I don’t know. Right now, nothing feels doable other than watching “Deadliest Catch,” my current TV vice with my best buddy. Even the Baltic Sea sounds better than being a professor lately.

Revise and resubmit

One of my best friends, JackAttack's Mom , does such a nice job on her blog of talking and thinking about her data and work as a beginning scholar. I am revising and resubmitting my intent on this blog to include my thoughts and actions towards my research, towards my burgeoning life as a scholar (trying not to snicker at the word: scholar). So today, I am in Austin, my lovely city, and writing with ye ole friend mentioned above and attempting to recommit myself to my own thoughts and ideas. I still have them, I think. Okay, enough of this for now. I am going to go read some new stuff on BookClub and update the literature review for an article that was rejected a couple years ago.

A Crow Bar

created insecurity for me. Yesterday, after working out I came home to my back door being jammed open. Inside, I found nothing missing but felt a bit like I was making it up, that the door was broken before (It had been hard to close). Getting ready this morning I went to put my earrings on and noticed the jewelery box with all my most treasured rings (including my class ring) was gone as was my digital camera. That was it. They took very little...but my belief in humanity feels threatened. Locks and bolts do not make me feel better. I feel like my sense of self is falling apart. Now I need a Doberman. Where is Ringo when you need him?

Deja Vu'

I spent a year sitting at coffee shops around Austin writing, proposals and then a book. I have decided to call it a book and not a dissertation. I mean, it is a book-it was published, has 300 pages, and illustrations. So, here I am again, sitting at a coffee shop, this time in San Antonio. I hadn't realized that part of being a college professor was coffee shops. In order (at this point) to get work done, I have to be here, sipping a coffee, and working. Is it my reinforced imagination or a socially situated activity or is it me? Anyway, I worked on an AERA proposal this weekend and it is ready to rock and roll (not that it took much as it was rejected last year because of a wrong SIG choice). I am on the BookClub article for the rest of today. I have got to update the literature.

As for the home front: I weave the streets of San Antonio and see all the families with children and their respective sombreros and I still do not feel like I am inspired or proud to be here in SA. It does not give me the same feelings as the DUCK tours in Austin do. I guess it will come. My sprinkler system was completed on Friday but I don't know how to work it. I need to call about that. So many call, so little time!

GOALS

My friend Beth, who is in the throws of her dissertation and therefore a rough time in the world of higher education took her goals public. It sounds so harsh to put them out there like that...but here goes. I pray it helps.

1. Send something off for publishing by August 20.
2. AERA proposal about coteaching
3. ICE proposal on coteaching
4. Identity piece for coteaching
5. Get my grandparents taken care of
6. Work out 5 times a week

Is it bad to wish you were in another country? To wish you were freezing your butt off in a tent in Africa? Scouring the lands for Rhino? I miss vacation.

Ruta Maya 2

Oh yes, I have found the sister coffee shop in San Antonio. It makes me so happy to be in a place that feels like Austin.

So, I just experienced a negative reinforcement and am perhaps overly aware of the results. For 6 or so years I worked at UT, managing grades, students, and schools. This Spring semester at A&M I had a student contest a grade (the creepy one mentioned in the previous blog). He earned a D for which he though he deserved an A. He has been harassing me since. The issue is not that he is contesting the grade. I believe in the power of students (although I have never had one NOT talk to me about it) to make their educational experiences good. However, the negative, hurtful, and questioning nature of his comments and harassment made it such that this semester (SUM I) when I had a student earn a D, I gave him a C. I swore I would not be a part of the grade inflation phenomenon and yet, here I am, a part of it.

At home, my grandparents arent doing good. My grandpa is entering the hard stages of Parkinson's and my grandma has been the primary caregiver. It is hard to see a 90 year old as the nurse to a 93 year old with a feeding tube. It is like being 90 and having a newborn baby. She feeds him every 4 hours, in addition to everything else. The hard part was that last week, when I spoke to her, she sounded so tired. I began the search for help...but it is hard to coordinate from here-to balance my job and the need for me at home. I need to be here, to teach summer school and make some money...but, I need to be at home helping to find some aid for my grandparents. Alas, I sit working...about to call mom about grandpa and grandpa.

The Crazy, Creepy Student

Once upon a time there was a first year professor teaching a Master's class in literacy. One student, sat preaching about God, his correctness, and children's stupidity. During the course, the creepy student, wreaking of marijuana, wearing sunglasses, earned a D. Still believing he deserved an A, he pestered and harassed the professor though emails and threats. Are they empty? Does it make the professor feel better that the police officer (who has known him since he was a kid) says he possibly has a drug abuse problem, or is not taking his prescription meds? NO!

Then there is a student like Catherine, who I know struggled to work through her differences in teaching style and beliefs with me. Who today, after 3 classes, 3 semesters in my courses, said, "Thanks, Dr. Wilson. I leaned a lot. You have done an amazing job." Or there is Ruth, who, clutching her exam, came to me and said, "You know, Dr. Wilson, you have done al of these things I wrote here for a quality teacher...like you modeled, and promoted, and engaged and performed... I just didn't notice because you were modeling them, sort of indirectly...we had to SEE them!"

What is lazy?

Im not lazy. I tell myself that. I mean, I work everyday...okay, almost every day. Still, as soon as I sit down, as soon as I refuse to do something that I should be doing, I feel lazy. How can people work and move around constantly? Is my drive really that much lower than everyone else's? So, what is lazy? Is it okay to be lazy and if so, do I need to schedule it? If I schedule it, is it lazy? I think I have the "I don't want to" blues. I want to sit and eat goldfish crackers. I don't want to write articles, grade papers, water the lawn, walk the dog, furminate the cat, eat healthy, workout, make syllabi, or be helpful. That is lazy, right?

This thing called a "research agenda."

Oh yes, I have an agenda...and I am damn sure that there is research in it. You know, which ice cream is the best, how to get the Sonic vanilla coke on the way to work. But, I must confess that lately (okay all year) it is not the research agenda that I had percolating in my mind this time last year. Oh, the grandness of my dissertation and its ideas! And there they lie, buried in a mess of new house, new job, commuting, sleeping, and watering the fucking lawn. We began a writer's group of late and I am in charge (how ironic is that!). It is mostly for Jackie (my reading colleague) and I to set a time to write together but two others have semi joined. Now I find myself doing work for others and not on my own. It always seems that I am more able to help someone else than myself. I am glad I wasnt on the Titanic because I know I would have let everyone else get n the boats, maybe even helped them step in. I must write, I have ideas, and damn it I am smart enough. So why the stoppage and how the hell do I move past it? When one is a 4th grader with writer's block, I can help. At 33 with writer's block, it is tougher.