Today's exams have yet to be read but I did get through Monday's exams while one class was writing. I had to bite my tongue so as not to disrupt the exam takers.
One of the exam prompts was to write a letter to the editor about the extension of unemployment benefits for those who have run up against their 99 week limit.
Student A wrote: "99 weeks is not long enough to find a job. I propose that we double that and make it the 218 week plan."
Student B wrote: "That is a long time to be sitting around not working. Too long. 99 weeks is 693 days, which is a little bit over a year. Someone could surely get a job in a year!"
Yes, Student B, perhaps teaching math to college students!
December 8, 2010
December 7, 2010
Hurry Up and StartFinish
Tonight I am frantically grading papers for my lit class, as their final class and "celebration" is tomorrow afternoon. I'm not sure how celebratory they will be when they see my comments on their papers. Yet, I'm not sure just how candid my comments will be. It's 11pm and I'm still grading.
I am also participating in Holidailies this year, and have yet to post something, so I'm rushing in to do just that, and then head back to the grading. A rather inauspicious start.
It would be grand if classes had some kind of flourish at the end. In all of my experience as a student, and now longer as an instructor, they do not. It is rare and the highpoint is usually buried deep on a bright and cheerful afternoon where the gestalt is just so, and I leave the classroom thinking "I just taught the HELL out of that class." The next thought is, "and they don't even know it."
No, class ends in a flustered rush of writing/reading/reviewing/testing, during which time some or all of us are freaking out at the workload. There are no high-fives, no Gatorade on the head, no applause (rumors of this at Ivy schools intrigue me).
Behind the scenes, the administrators are starting to look at the next semester, and begin sending out policy memos and dire warnings about upgrades, grade deadlines and... let's not forget the Fall Term traditions of copious amounts of sweets and even BBQ in the faculty lounge at odd moments.
Dear Administrators: How about a bar and chair massage?
Dear Students: How about you just wait for your grade to be posted, and then take it in stride?
Dear Colleagues: Quit hogging the computers, and please keep your voices down. Unless you have booze. If so, share!
Dear Me: Get back to work!
I am also participating in Holidailies this year, and have yet to post something, so I'm rushing in to do just that, and then head back to the grading. A rather inauspicious start.
It would be grand if classes had some kind of flourish at the end. In all of my experience as a student, and now longer as an instructor, they do not. It is rare and the highpoint is usually buried deep on a bright and cheerful afternoon where the gestalt is just so, and I leave the classroom thinking "I just taught the HELL out of that class." The next thought is, "and they don't even know it."
No, class ends in a flustered rush of writing/reading/reviewing/testing, during which time some or all of us are freaking out at the workload. There are no high-fives, no Gatorade on the head, no applause (rumors of this at Ivy schools intrigue me).
Behind the scenes, the administrators are starting to look at the next semester, and begin sending out policy memos and dire warnings about upgrades, grade deadlines and... let's not forget the Fall Term traditions of copious amounts of sweets and even BBQ in the faculty lounge at odd moments.
Dear Administrators: How about a bar and chair massage?
Dear Students: How about you just wait for your grade to be posted, and then take it in stride?
Dear Colleagues: Quit hogging the computers, and please keep your voices down. Unless you have booze. If so, share!
Dear Me: Get back to work!
November 26, 2010
Intrigued
I have gotten several new followers to my Twitter feed, and I'm wondering why. It cannot be that I'm posting because I'm not. I've been neglecting this blog and my Facebook page too.
Why? see previous entries. Compound pain with depression, overwork and underpaid, and you have the nearly complete picture.
"In this economy" is a phrase that I am sick to death of using, but that's the issue, as far as I can tell. I'm also careful not to squander my limited creative time in unpaid work, which makes me grumpier but there ya go.
In knitting news, I have two long term projects that are taking forever, and so I cast on a hat for a friend. And it turned out to be too big, for me, and so probably for him too. I have a largish head (to house this big beautiful brain of course).
But anyone who can explain the Twitter adds will be rewarded with my blessing.
Why? see previous entries. Compound pain with depression, overwork and underpaid, and you have the nearly complete picture.
"In this economy" is a phrase that I am sick to death of using, but that's the issue, as far as I can tell. I'm also careful not to squander my limited creative time in unpaid work, which makes me grumpier but there ya go.
In knitting news, I have two long term projects that are taking forever, and so I cast on a hat for a friend. And it turned out to be too big, for me, and so probably for him too. I have a largish head (to house this big beautiful brain of course).
But anyone who can explain the Twitter adds will be rewarded with my blessing.
August 14, 2010
From my Pain Diary
8-14-10:
This morning, woke at 7am (7 hrs sleep). Usual back stiffness that improves with upright and mobility.
Sitting ok.
Drank iced tea instead of coffee.
Watered the back yard, scooped poop. Wore sandals.
Sat at my desk for a bit.
Put hose on trickle to water front trees. Barefoot.
Sat on the couch for a bit, ate a bowl of cereal. Knitting a dish cloth.
Started hanging up clothes in bedroom, walking back and forth to hamper.
Sat at computer again for a bit.
Hip joint pain started twinging.
Now feet and ankles swelling, and achy.
Back is starting to spasm.
WHY?!?! What is so maddening about all this is that it makes no sense at all? Moving a lot makes me hurt (afterward); moving a little makes me hurt (immediately after); sleeping too little makes me hurt; sleeping too much, ditto.
ARGH!!!!
This morning, woke at 7am (7 hrs sleep). Usual back stiffness that improves with upright and mobility.
Sitting ok.
Drank iced tea instead of coffee.
Watered the back yard, scooped poop. Wore sandals.
Sat at my desk for a bit.
Put hose on trickle to water front trees. Barefoot.
Sat on the couch for a bit, ate a bowl of cereal. Knitting a dish cloth.
Started hanging up clothes in bedroom, walking back and forth to hamper.
Sat at computer again for a bit.
Hip joint pain started twinging.
Now feet and ankles swelling, and achy.
Back is starting to spasm.
WHY?!?! What is so maddening about all this is that it makes no sense at all? Moving a lot makes me hurt (afterward); moving a little makes me hurt (immediately after); sleeping too little makes me hurt; sleeping too much, ditto.
ARGH!!!!
July 22, 2010
My New Constant Companion
Based on the title you probably thought this would be about my new dog. While I have a new dog, my new constant companion is not the dog.
It's pain.
Back pain usually from early in the morning, while still in bed, until about 30 min. after I get up and move around. The stiffness hits me in my sleep, and wakes me up between 5 and 7 hours after I fall asleep.
Hip pain from misalignment, from walking too much, from sitting too long, from standing too long, from crossing my legs at the ankles too much.
Muscular pain but only after fatigue, and accompanied by twitching.
Emotional pain, imagining that this will never get better and I have to live with this for the next 48 years (because I have always planned to be 100 at the very least before I die). Also because no doctor offers me relief anymore, because no one in my life really gets it or helps. Because all I want is to move, work, dance, and feel NORMAL. Or at least pain-free.
Also painful is admitting any of this, talking about it. It does NOT make it better. Helpful comments do NOT help, despite the intention of the commenter. Reading websites for support is NOT supportive. I haven't yet found a doctor who understands it in a professional way. (There was the one doctor a while back, but he's in another city now, probably retired. And he wasn't exactly encouraging.)
A final element of pain is the public opinion that I didn't have a "full case" of polio and therefore, I won't suffer as much. And hey, look at FDR! He was president four times, and moved mountains. Look at that poet guy! What determination! Such great examples! NOT helping, folks.
At this point, I'm looking for a guru or wizard to make sense of it all, someone who won't blame me. The tiny bit of hope I find is in two things: my dogs are oblivious but loving, and researchers have found fragments of the polio virus in the spinal fluid of post-polio syndrome patients. This might provide answers to the cause, but in the end, it's not cancer. It's very low-end research, not sexy at all, and therefore, no one really cares or will fund anything remotely near a "breakthrough."
Negativity, fatigue, depression and degeneration are also part of the syndrome. Yay! Non-prescription solutions for depression involve.... EXERCISE. Which I am told is not indicated. Screw that. Yesterday, I could hardly get off the couch, but when I was out watching my dogs run around like idiots, I was not in pain.
Not a lot of writing gets done when pain is present. If I could figure out a way to run my dogs and write at the same time, then I'd be golden. And I may have done just exactly that. Stay tuned.
And yes I do have a new dog. He's quite silly and waggy. He is over the top optimistic and unapologetic about it. I like that. I am unapologetic about starting sentences with And. We have that lack of apology in common.
It's pain.
Also painful is admitting any of this, talking about it. It does NOT make it better. Helpful comments do NOT help, despite the intention of the commenter. Reading websites for support is NOT supportive. I haven't yet found a doctor who understands it in a professional way. (There was the one doctor a while back, but he's in another city now, probably retired. And he wasn't exactly encouraging.)
A final element of pain is the public opinion that I didn't have a "full case" of polio and therefore, I won't suffer as much. And hey, look at FDR! He was president four times, and moved mountains. Look at that poet guy! What determination! Such great examples! NOT helping, folks.
At this point, I'm looking for a guru or wizard to make sense of it all, someone who won't blame me. The tiny bit of hope I find is in two things: my dogs are oblivious but loving, and researchers have found fragments of the polio virus in the spinal fluid of post-polio syndrome patients. This might provide answers to the cause, but in the end, it's not cancer. It's very low-end research, not sexy at all, and therefore, no one really cares or will fund anything remotely near a "breakthrough."
Negativity, fatigue, depression and degeneration are also part of the syndrome. Yay! Non-prescription solutions for depression involve.... EXERCISE. Which I am told is not indicated. Screw that. Yesterday, I could hardly get off the couch, but when I was out watching my dogs run around like idiots, I was not in pain.
Not a lot of writing gets done when pain is present. If I could figure out a way to run my dogs and write at the same time, then I'd be golden. And I may have done just exactly that. Stay tuned.
And yes I do have a new dog. He's quite silly and waggy. He is over the top optimistic and unapologetic about it. I like that. I am unapologetic about starting sentences with And. We have that lack of apology in common.
April 6, 2010
Where Did It Go?
The writing. Where is it? Gone? On vacation? Squashed down, hiding? Snuffed out?
I'm trying to decide if it's the teaching of such mediocre and "at-risk" students that saps my energy. Well, yes, it does that, but teaching has never stolen my voice. That inner voice that tells me what to write, that makes up words and sentences as soon as I sit down to work. I am not bugged by that voice anymore, not awakened by it, not interrupted in mid-lecture with thoughts that I should write down.
Is this it? Is it over? With just the handful of scholarly publications, the glossy magazine features, and the file cabinet drawer of unpublished stuff?
I worry, deeply, about this.
I'm trying to decide if it's the teaching of such mediocre and "at-risk" students that saps my energy. Well, yes, it does that, but teaching has never stolen my voice. That inner voice that tells me what to write, that makes up words and sentences as soon as I sit down to work. I am not bugged by that voice anymore, not awakened by it, not interrupted in mid-lecture with thoughts that I should write down.
Is this it? Is it over? With just the handful of scholarly publications, the glossy magazine features, and the file cabinet drawer of unpublished stuff?
I worry, deeply, about this.
December 26, 2009
Distractions
I embarked on this Holidailies project as a way to get into a discipline of writing, because I was NOT in one. Not a regular writing appointment, daily, with a journal. I thought it would be good to have/establish one.
But I find that there is a larger problem afoot. Not only do I have too many distractions and things that take me out of writing (such as crafts, constant housework, new games on the goggle box, movies, etc.), but I'm also finding that my depression is waxing and waning, mostly waxing.
The most alarming "symptom" at this point is that the usual voices in my head (hush - not the crazy ones, but the fiction ones - the characters in my stories) HAVE STOPPED TALKING. It's lonely and cold without them. It's been a few weeks since I stopped to write something down, or even thought "I need to write that down."
Have I lost the Muse? Have I lost my will to write? This is far more alarming that missing a week or more in a project that I voluntarily took on.
The remedy that I know of for this problem is to quiet my mind. Christmas Day was lovely (the Eve as well) because a sudden snowstorm shut everything down early. I went out for walks in it. A pretty but blowy and dangerous storm, actually. For this area. But it hushed everything. It stilled my mind just long enough for me to realize that the internal dialogue had stopped.
To quiet my mind, I have decided to rid myself of projects and only tackle those that a) earn my living and b) make life conducive to the creative side. There are stories to tell. I feel that I will not survive if I don't tell them. Time for writing, yoga, fewer screens, more ink, more walks with my dog. Distractions are necessary or life will not be balanced, but from now on, I'm choosing to pursue as many distractions as I can that nurture the creative me.
But I find that there is a larger problem afoot. Not only do I have too many distractions and things that take me out of writing (such as crafts, constant housework, new games on the goggle box, movies, etc.), but I'm also finding that my depression is waxing and waning, mostly waxing.
The most alarming "symptom" at this point is that the usual voices in my head (hush - not the crazy ones, but the fiction ones - the characters in my stories) HAVE STOPPED TALKING. It's lonely and cold without them. It's been a few weeks since I stopped to write something down, or even thought "I need to write that down."
Have I lost the Muse? Have I lost my will to write? This is far more alarming that missing a week or more in a project that I voluntarily took on.
The remedy that I know of for this problem is to quiet my mind. Christmas Day was lovely (the Eve as well) because a sudden snowstorm shut everything down early. I went out for walks in it. A pretty but blowy and dangerous storm, actually. For this area. But it hushed everything. It stilled my mind just long enough for me to realize that the internal dialogue had stopped.
To quiet my mind, I have decided to rid myself of projects and only tackle those that a) earn my living and b) make life conducive to the creative side. There are stories to tell. I feel that I will not survive if I don't tell them. Time for writing, yoga, fewer screens, more ink, more walks with my dog. Distractions are necessary or life will not be balanced, but from now on, I'm choosing to pursue as many distractions as I can that nurture the creative me.
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