academics and money

Somehow I wound up reading New Kid's post about house envy just before reading an article in the Chronicle about the strategies faculty are using to get by financially in areas with higher costs of living. (Unfortunately I think the article is in the subscriber-only section of the CHE -- part of some new special section called The Academic Life. I haven't looked at my print copy yet to know what that actually looks like, probably one of the folded magazine-type sections.) The Chronicle article is pretty good, though hardly a surprise to anyone who is also living in a high-cost area. Of course, they sought out extreme examples -- the faculty member who got tenure while living in her parents' home, the professor who butchers meat at the grocery story to help pay his bills. But the article overall raises some good points about the discrepancies between the cultural positions and the actual economic positions many of us inhabit.

As I've no doubt said before, I've always found Bourdieu's account of the dominated fraction of the dominant classes to be extremely compelling in pinpointing that weird dynamic that occurs in the households of academics. But I think it comes out most strongly around the issue of home ownership - - particularly as the ideology of home ownership begins to be assailed by the economic realities for many younger professionals in their 20s or 30s. It's no longer necessarily the best choice -- or even a possible choice. And yet, of course, it's an ideal that many people still aspire to.

I should specify that New Kid's points were about feeling unsettled, about transitions, and space, not necessarily financial concerns. But all of these things resonate around what she called "feeling like an adult." I'll be real clear about this: GF and I don't live in what most middle-aged folks would consider an "adult" type house. We don't have a guest room. We don't have a dining room. Our at-home lives are spent happily piled on one saggy couch. It's partly because certain bourgois markers don't matter that much to us (if they did we probably wouldn't be educators); it's also because our happy family includes three dogs; because we're introverts who'd rather make our personal space comfortable than company-presentable; and because we can't afford to live in the kind of house that grownups live in.

Who are the grownups? the Chair of my department, obviously, who not only has a Chair's salary but significant family money. He can have the whole department over for a catered holiday party during which we stroll around examining his rare books and antiques. Certain faculty married to professionals in industry. Others well into their 50s-- in my department, many people don't buy homes until their parents are deceased -- the small estates the previous generation's middle class can leave are usually suitable down payments in our real estate area. There are a few other "grownups," mostly those with children, who've chosen to live in the far away suburbs in order to purchase a home. The rest of us in the department tend to live in much more bohemian, eco-friendly, or downwardly mobile ways. (pick the label you prefer)

I'm definitely a grownup in most other areas of my life, and I don't spend much time worrying about this one. But when an old friend who's my age but definitely far ahead of me on the house scale came to visit, her shock and dismay told me quite a bit about how my life would look from the outside. Would I trade? no way. I'm pretty happy with the choices I've made. Flexible time and professional autonomy definitely trump swimming pools and new cars.

beginnings

I had a good conversation last week with an old friend about the eerie deja vu of returning to the department hallways and routines after the summer. It's a strange mixture of welcoming the familiar-- getting into the rhythms of teaching, seeing former students, seeing colleagues again-- but tinged with faint notes of familiar despair: the first department meeting, the low morale in the main office, the pompous grandstanding at the welcome reception.

We're now in our fourth week of the term, so we're hardly beginning anything any longer-- I've graded two sets of student writing and feel pretty accustomed to this semester's schedules and routines. But I'm trying to focus on what I had suggested to my friend: that we have the opportunity this semester to rewrite some of the patterns and outcomes of last year. That we have the opportunity this week, this day, to change something, not just to fall into the dull mediocrity of the routine. I always am happier at the beginning of the semester, when I'm excited about new courses, new texts, new students. But I'm also trying to focus on what actions or attitudes I can cultivate that will help new ideas or events emerge.

So far, I'm deliberately stepping back from a lot of things. I'm thinking or writing about my current research every day, even if only informally. I'm doing a lot of mantra chanting. And I'm trying to think of each day as a potential new start.

unplugged

unplugged. at least for now.

grading: side effects may include...

OK, I realize I'm basically the only person in the blogosphere who is STILL grading. And it won't even end today when I finish this stack of papers: I give a final exam this afternoon so I'll have that fun to look forward to tomorrow. But exams don't require comments, so it's a much faster process.

And of course I procrastinated on reading the papers, blah, blah, blah, so I'm up against a deadline for returning them. Same old story, familiar to me and my three readers. But this term I experienced a new side effect: last night from 4 a.m. to 6, after waking up to let the Old Girl out, I dreamed that I was grading papers. Not new ones -- the same papers I'd read yesterday afternoon. I regraded them all in my dream. I was actually reading text and thinking about grades. Not at all restful.

kilter

Kilter: Good condition, order; state of health or spirits. Used in the phrases out of kelter, in (good, high) kelter, to get into kelter. [OED] [U.S. form kilter]
But when you look more closely at the examples listed with the definition, the latest example of kelter being used in its positive sense was 1828 -- most of them are 17th century. In recent centuries, and especially in U.S. usage, the negative phrase of something being "out of kilter" or "off kilter" is far more prevalent.

It's often easier to talk about things being out of balance than it is to focus on the things that are in order. It's easier to see what's disordered, to focus on the problems, than to see what's actually working. It's perversely easier to complain than to talk about what's already good.

I've been literally off balance for a few weeks as an ankle injury heals. It's always the same ankle, the one weakened years ago by a bad injury that didn't heal properly, the one pre-disposed by genetics and physical anomalies towards injury. Thankfully I wasn't born into a time and place in which my only function was to sit still and look delicate, since the rest of me doesn't exactly fit the latter requirement, but my ankle would be perfectly happy just flirting under a fan sipping tea and knitting lace. My ankle is a bit of lady - -grafted on top of a leg that's built like most of my ancestors, for peasant work out in the fields. It's only an uneasy truce these warring class factions have been able to negotiate, and the ligaments who police
the ankle treaty are at fault for being too lenient, too flexible.

I'm never a very good patient, for all my attempts to cultivate patience in the rest of my life (my deliberate choice of the slow lane on the freeway, my deep breathing in the grocery store): I hate to be sick or injured and too easily fall into all or nothing doomsday foretellings: if I have a cold, I become convinced that I'll NEVER be able to breathe through my nose AGAIN. If my ankle sprains, I imagine never being able to walk, dance, jump freely. Of course, this is a good reminder to be grateful for what I mostly still do have. This week, as I'm able to return to half of my normal level of activity (with ice and a brace and all the rest) I'm better able to contemplate my good fortune. How good it is that it was only an ankle sprain that has been making me feel so sad, so slothful, so trapped. Something relatively temporary, no matter how long three weeks can feel to my ego, to my fragile brain chemistry, to my waistline.

I'm moving back into kilter. Slowly, slowly, but ever so gladly.

done! or at least semi-done!

I'm done with teaching for the spring term, and I am so happy! This weekend is a nice little happy transition type weekend -- final papers don't roll in until Monday, and then we have this tremendously long exam period -- with my final exams unfortunately not scheduled until the last day, which would be the 10th. So I have two weeks of grading and meetings and graduation hoopla coming up, but I do not have to think about my students at all for the next three days. And that is very nice.

This weekend I plan to do some massive house cleaning -- we have an out of town visitor coming the middle of next week, and my conference trips this month meant that I was just doing basic sweeping and surfaces. So a lot of cleaning, which is not my favorite thing, but it's also kind of therapeutic and part of my transition into summer. Also some sorting and returning of library books, sorting some files, getting things ready for my summer work plan.

I'm really looking forward to the summer - - I've done enough writing and conference presentations this semester that I'm already primed for digging into my research. This is probably why I've been so indifferent to my students this term-- they weren't particularly bad or irritating, and my teaching was OK I think -- but it wasn't where my focus was, and I'm glad to be wrapping it up. My administrative responsibilities lessen during the summer months as well, and that will be a real relief. I'm ready to not have to see my colleagues for a while.

So, cleaning, some moviegoing, some cooking and relaxing. An excellent weekend ahead, to be followed soon enough by two months of relative freedom! No wonder I woke up feeling so happy today!

First Snow

The most interesting moments in First Snow are fleeting ones -- the glint in J.K. Simmons's eye, and the expressions on William Fichtner's face as his character falls into the little brother wannabe role with Guy Pearce's overladen badass character. At its best it's a movie about men's relationships with other men: Pearce tells Fichtner "I love you" twice and his old buddy Shea Whigham kisses him just before blowing his own brain to bits. Despite a steamy bathtub scene with Piper Perabo, it's Pearce's male friends that have the most power over his life. But the movie drags, and by the time Pearce has his paranoid breakdown holed up in a motel room, I just didn't care very much about his existential problems upon hearing from a fortune teller that his days were numbered. The noirish feel was neither fresh nor self-aware -- just a collage of predictable ingredients: highway, liquor bottles, desert, etc etc.

I was interested in seeing this movie, though, because I think it's part of a larger Zeitgeist, a trend I've been noting in recent films that are concerned with epistemological or philosophical "what ifs" -- what if you could foresee the future (Next, Premonition), or what if the future is
just a repeat of the past (Deja Vu, the short-lived TV show Day Break). I think this rash of quasi-fantastical, quasi-realistic stories can be seen as cultural responses to the war in Iraq and the epistemological crises that even the most mainstream newspapers have been recognizing: what if we/they had known then what is known now; what if we could foresee the outcome of our current actions; what if the future is only a doomed repetition of the past.

preparedness

Last night at the keynote speech for the conference I'm currently attending, I was sitting behind a guy whose pen started to leak ink all over his hand. I was so impressed with his calm reaction as he put down the leaking pen, reached into his book bag, and pulled out a moist towlette packet and cleaned his fingers. Then he got another pen and continued taking notes.

Talk about being prepared. Moist towlettes are one of those things I sometimes think it would be nice to have in my bag, or in my car. Occasionally I've purchased some, like before a long road trip. Usually I use a couple, and the rest sit in the glove box for months, until they are so dried out even inside their sealed packaging that when I get grunge all over my hand from airing up my tires, the towlette is useless. Or, I stick a towlette packet in my book bag's zippered pocket and it slowly gets frayed and dusty, until again, by the time I actually need it, it's no good. (The same thing happens with cough drops, except that they have a tendency to go soft and gooey and stick to things-- again a situation in which one would like a towlette, if it weren't caught up in the dust ball of cough drop ooze.)

Basically, I've resigned myself to being somewhat less prepared than I sometimes think I should be. Although it would sometimes be nice to have easy access to a needle and thread, scotch tape, stapler, hole punch, scissors, pliers, flashlight, shoelaces, and of course moist towlettes -- I do not, in fact, carry those items around with me on a regular basis. Some of them can be found in my desk at home or work, and some in my car. But I rarely have all of them at hand at the same time -- or at such a time when they would actually come in handy. If I have my bookbag, I do have nail clippers, ibuprofen, kleenex and probably a paper clip or two, which you can do a lot with. I've also resigned myself to the fact that I don't completely empty all the pockets in my bookbag on a regular basis so as to clean out the no-longer useful or fresh things. My inner safety officer personality is disappointed, but I just can't make that sort of thing a priority.

This prepared guy did have an awfully large bookbag/briefcase with him -- as I sat there I started really wondering what else he had in there, just in case any of the other academic emergencies occurred: paper cut, loose eyeglass screw, coughing fit, malfunctioning projector...

what I got out of last week

• A new model of generational differences in my dept. Forget theoretical modes, or graduate mentors. Here's the distinction that really matters. When searching in the online registration system for information about next year's courses (like time, day, room number) there are those faculty members who see a link around their section number and know (or try) to click on it to get the screenful of detailed info. And then there are those who prefer to send off five emails to two secretaries, one faculty administrator (me!), the chair, and an assistant dean. (And then, of course, there are those who don't even use computers, but we've whittled that list down to just a mere handful and are waiting for retirements to thin their ranks).
• A theory about contemporary film and cultural anxieties about the war in Iraq, based entirely on the previews I've seen for recent movies. I think it holds up but I haven't actually watched any of the texts I'd use as evidence. (But considering that I once had dinner with an Eminent Critic who confessed to only having read the epigraphs to Moby Dick -- a novel he teaches regularly -- I don't feel so bad.)
• New respect from my students because I calmed a yelping student by scooping up a spider in my hands and taking it outside. Who knew it would be so easy to make them applaud?
  

post conference recovery

Well, despite my grumbling last week, our little regional conference was a tremendous success -- all the invited guests were charming and smart, the panels came together well, and everyone had a good time.

It's odd that I enjoy conferences (large or small) as much as I do, given that I'm fairly anti-social and not an academic superstar or anything. But being around people who work on things I'm interested in is very energizing. My day to day experience doesn't really include that kind of intellectual engagement and camaraderie. I had the chance to talk with people whose work I really admire and get some good feedback on my own projects.

The only downside to the weekend was that I. am. so. tired. I mean, really tired. So tired that one of my old crusty colleagues even said something to me today in a meeting about my not looking very chipper. (Why do people think that's an appropriate or nice thing to say?) And for someone like him to notice, I must really have looked like the walking dead.

So I gave up on getting to yoga tonight and came home early to do my reading while lying down. Hopefully I can get some extra sleep tonight. I've got to get my post-conference recovery plan fine tuned, though, because I've got two more conferences coming up this spring. It's a crazy season, but it might actually help me feel more grounded intellectually --even if it means I'm slacking off a bit on my teaching prep.

how did I get here?

So it goes something like this. Someone has an idea, maybe even a good idea, for bringing in a guest speaker. They talk to someone else about finding some funding. The funding has some conditions attached, a particular constituency who needs to be addressed, maybe a particular approach as well. So then one guest speaker turns into two. Then someone talks to someone from another department and finds another source of funding. And now we have a symposium. And then some other people get involved, at least nominally, and it becomes a regional thing, with multiple sessions.

This is all good -- exciting even. But it means that while I'm trying to write my own paper, I'm also dealing with airport shuttles and paper napkins and all of the very non-intellectual details involved in hosting such an event. Next time someone has a good idea, I'm just going to say "yeah, that sounds good" and leave it at that.

dream analysis

Last night I had a dream that I was walking in a large park in my city. And then a wild animal (which happened to be the same one that is my university's mascot) approached. Because it was huge and dangerous, I stood very still hoping that it would pass by. Instead it peed on me.

Now, we have been lately watching the Discovery Channel's impressive new Planet Earth series, which includes dramatic film of all sorts of wildlife. But I have to think that my subconscious might be trying to tell me something?

sweetness

Like people, individual dogs each have their own particular scent, even when they're clean. Our youngest, aka Speedy, actually has two: when her hair gets wet, from rain or from a bath, it gives off an odd, acrid smell that always reminds me of the old-fashioned beauty parlor my mom used to go to and to which I would be dragged along as a child -- full of horrendous chemicals used to pouf up the gray hair of its longtime customers. But when Speedy is dry, she has a lovely faint sweet smell. Best of all is when she's been sitting in the sun for a while -- the dark hair on her head soaking in the sunshine -- she smells a bit like toasted almonds, maybe a hint of banana, with a little dandelion blossom mixed in. It's the smell of sunshine, of relaxation, of the total present-ness that dogs help us share in.

Today I was able to work at home all day, eschewing the office politics for a day of reading and writing (and, yes, some emailing). Best of all, and what I really need to remember so I can get more days like this one: the many breaks I was able to take to play with the dogs in the yard, to sit and eat a snack with them, to snuggle with them on the couch while I prepped for class. And to bend over and kiss the top of Speedy's head and smell that sweetness that always makes me feel calm and happy.

judgment

One of my administrative duties this year involves sitting on the committee that reviews the annual faculty reports submitted by each member of my department. Service on this committee rotates through the department to prevent one clique from having all the power, and of course the Chair can override the decisions of the committee, since he's the one who actually assigns all the merit rankings. Our current Dean doesn't set firm quotas for these rankings, although there is a tacit understanding that there shouldn't be too many people in the top category, and not too many in the lowest. In fact, since an extremely low score triggers a college-level review process, it's pretty unlikely that anyone would receive it -- so a five-point ranking scale becomes a de facto four-point scale. It's not unlike the grades given out for graduate courses, in which a B really means you're substandard, and A, A- and B+ are the only actual grades one can assign.

But unlike course grades, which are usually determined (however subjectively) by a person who is thought to have more knowledge, education, or credentials than the people who are being evaluated, these scores are determined by peers. It's more democratic than if the Chair alone judged us, but there's something inherently repellent about the process too. There are of course pre-existing affinities and disagreements among the faculty, cliques and feuds, and those often color the judgements that are made. There are some set criteria for how many publications are expected, how much certain kinds of publications should be weighted, and so forth. But things like teaching load and service load are much more nebulous, and can be used either for or against a particular individual.

I think the process is as democratic and as fair as it could possibly be -- and perhaps it is the very collegiality of my department which makes service on this committee an onerous task that few people want to undertake. The meetings in which we decide the scores for our colleagues are incredibly draining. Not because making judgments is necessarily that difficult. But because doing this, commiting to numbers on paper, reminds us that we are always judging each other and being judged. This committee takes its work seriously, and what happens in those meetings is confidential. But gossip and snarky remarks are an unfortunate part of academic life. Who hasn't heard, said, or thought something dismissive about a colleague?

I'm as guilty as the next guy. I really try not to gossip about colleagues (except maybe to my GF who's not an academic). But I don't always cut someone else off from saying things to me, which is the next worst thing. I've certainly thought critical thoughts about some of my colleagues. Plus, I hate feeling that I'm being judged. I know that I could always do more, do better -- I'm a pretty strong critic of myself. I hardly need to feel that people down the hallway are whispering about what I did or did not publish last year.

Buddhist psychology reminds me that the person or thing who irritates me is the person or thing who can best teach me a lesson. So I have many questions to think about as I sit in these meetings. How might we learn to accept one another a little more? How can I learn to be tolerant of those who are intolerant of others? What kinds of judgments are helpful and which are harmful? How might I best judge my own efforts -- through the year and in this judging committee?

teaching eve

Well, among the many wonderful things I did do over spring break, prepping my teaching for this week wasn't one of them. I like my students this term, but my focus really isn't with them. I'm worried that I might even have forgotten some of their names over the past 9 days. I got a few emails from students during the break, asking questions about their next assignment -- each time it was sort of a surprise to me, like "oh, yeah, that other big part of my job." I decided several months ago (even before January) that this semester would really have to be a research-focused semester, as much as I can manage that during the year. And I think I've been more successful at that than ever before. But it's still a weirdly disconnected feeling. And it hasn't helped smooth out my usual night-before prepping mode. No matter how many days ahead I start preparing a class, I still usually do most of the work the night before, or the morning of, depending on the class time.

So I have to skim/reread half of a moderately long novel before tomorrow's class. And transcribe my handwritten reading notes from two years ago into readable typed notes. (I haven't yet figured out a smooth system for typing while actually reading from books.) And figure out class plans for this week. It's all doable. And I like the book I'm teaching. But I'm just not feeling very high energy about the task. I have post-vacation malaise.

What I actually did over my spring break (the reality edition):

• saw three movies in the theater
  
• watched some tv shows on DVD
• redid my study so that it should be more pleasant to work in there now
• cleaned embarrassing amounts of dog hair out of every nook and cranny of the house
• 97 thousand loads of laundry
  
• spent lots of time with GF
  
• bought some new spring clothes
  
• slept a lot
• finished an article
  
• kinda sorta started a conference paper
  

Not quite as impressive as the fantasy version, but mighty nice anyhow. It was a really great spring break, quite possibly the best I've ever had. Now I just have to get through the next 8 weeks until summer . . .

time

I suppose it's because I'm on spring break this week, but I've been having a hard time adjusting to this year's early time change. I spent my childhood in one of the states that doesn't do time changing, so the whole concept of it has always seemed kind of alien to me, though I've been living in all those ordinary states that flip their clocks since I was 17. Especially calling it "daylight savings" -- it's not really saving anything. It's just a big mind game the government makes us all participate in. The sun still rises and sets. Rrrgh. The whole notion that federal authorities should be messing with Time just sets my teeth on edge. And especially this year, declaring that we now have to do the time change early. Because given that we are no longer primarily an agricultural nation, and given that most modern buildings are designed without much attention to natural light, and given that most of us are plugged in a zillion different ways no matter what time of day or night it is -- how the heck is this really going to make any difference in energy consumption. I just don't buy it. So what is it a cover for?

When I'm not feeling paranoid about the feds messing with the clocks, I've been attempting a much more relaxed approach to time than I usually have, since it's spring break. I've been sleeping ridiculous amounts and trying not to feel guilty or anxious about it. Feeling tired often makes me anxious because I'm never too sure whether I'm really tired, or just depressed. This week I think it's actually been tiredness-- I'm still kind of recovering from being sick a couple of weeks ago, which has been very humbling. I started back to yoga last week, and got into the gym a bit too. But I'm not up to my usual every day workouts yet, except for walking.

I've been relaxing, and having a great break -- and also getting some work done. But still, it's Wednesday and I'm starting to feel a little bit sad already about break ending soon. I don't want to see anybody, or even go anywhere -- I just want to hang out in my house and play with the dogs and work on my various projects.

spring break!

Spring Break List -- Fantasy Edition

• write three conference papers
• revise article that came back from editor with comments
• finish massive home workspace reorganization project begun over winter break and then put on hold during the semester (filing & weeding of papers, Endnote updating, furniture moving, general cleanup)
  
• read and prep the 2nd half of the book I'm currently teaching
  
• read the next book I'll be teaching so as to be ahead of the game
  
• clean, clean, clean the house
  
• weed out clothes I don't need/wear
• do my taxes
• research/purchase a new printer
• take car in for maintenance
• do lots of yoga
• take a couple of trips to the dog park
• get back into the gym
  
• read some books for fun
• goalsetting/work planning for the next three months
• prepare faculty activity report
• sleep late
  
• go to the movies
  
• hang out with GF
  
• blog

I've got ten days . . . I just have to figure out the delicate balance between doing things and not doing anything at all. I need some of each. The past few weeks have really thrown me off balance -- my schedule's been weird, I was sick, I've been cranky. So this break is all about getting back to myself.

flu girl watches oscars, health improves

I think I finally turned a corner with the flu (which I keep typing, inexplicably, as "flue") at about 1:45 this afternoon. Last night I sent off a message to my Chair saying I was sick and wouldn't be able to make it to today's horrible meeting -- so I had all of today already clear for getting better. This morning I could do nothing but lie flat in bed, half sleeping. But then something shifted and I am starting to feel a bit more like myself. My fever's much lower, still about a degree left to go, but my brain is starting to cool down and function again. I've been rereading the last half of the book I'm teaching this week, and actually having some good ideas for how I want to wrap it up. So that's all good. Now I just have to finish grading that stack of essays, and I'll be golden. Since I can do that while reclining, it should be feasible, if not enjoyable. Now getting up and out of the house tomorrow may still be a challenge, but I can limit my time on campus to a few hours.

If you have to have the flu, there might as well be a tv-fest like the Oscars on. I wasn't too surprised with how things turned out (I don't expect my favorites to match the Academy's) -- except perhaps for Little Miss Sunshine for best screenplay -- sure, it was funny, quirky in that mainstream-indy way. But it wasn't interesting writing, originally structured, etc. That seemed a very odd choice, especially given the other nominees in that category. I hope that Ryan Gosling's nomination will at least get more people to see Half Nelson, and get him some other interesting roles -- it was one of the films I saw last year that stuck in my mind. I didn't for a minute think he'd get the award, but sometimes that's ok or even better for someone's career. Helen Mirren was fantastic in the Queen, but you should rent Shadowboxer as a wicked-delicious double feature to really see how amazing she is. I'm hoping that the foreign language award for The Lives of Others will bring it back to our theatres, since I missed it due to my work crunch of the past couple weeks. I really wanted to see it, and I much prefer to watch subtitles at the theatre. I haven't seen Dreamgirls yet, so I don't have an opinion about Jennifer Hudson (except that she shouldn't put her hands in the pockets of her evening gown while talking to reporters on the red carpet), though I was hoping Rinko Kikuchi would get the award. Babel seemed surprisingly overlooked, given the number of nominations. I also thought Children of Men should have gotten something -- cinematography or adaptation -- it was such a powerful and beautiful film. I thought it was way better than Pan's Labyrinth. But apparently no one else agrees with me. Totally appropriate that Marie Antoinette's costume designer won -- and how fabulous that she was wearing a tux!

During my flu, in addition to the home-repair shows on tv, I've been watching things from our shelf of DVDs for crappy days: Valley Girl, which is my all-time cheer-up movie, and many episodes of Freaks and Geeks, which is perfect medicine for whatever ails ya.

101.6

That's the number of the day, which has remained fairly consistent. But never dropping lower than that. Since my normal temp is about a full degree lower than "average" that's still a considerable fever.

And I am So. Over. Being. Sick. Yes, universe, I am grateful that this is a virus that has not involved the expulsion of gross bodily fluids. I am grateful that I came down with it just before the weekend. I am grateful that I sent off my article before getting sick. I am especially grateful for the Dish tv we got a few months ago. If one has to be sick once a year, this is not so bad.

I am trying to relax and rest and get better -- and certainly the weak state of my fevered brain means that I can't really do anything else. My eyes have been affected by the fever too, so I can only type this because I have the font set to humongous -- I can't read a book, for instance (which makes me sad since I even have some fun reading on hand from the public library).

But can't help myself from thinking about the work that needs to get done, the prep for next week, the conference paper I need to write. Will I be better for Monday's gruesome hiring committee meeting? (though, come to think of it, having a high fever as an excuse to miss that bloodbath might not be a bad thing) Will I get all the papers graded for Tuesday and teach a brilliant lively class so as to dispel all lingering questions about my abilities and commitment? Will my brain ever be back to normal?

ok, now I'm exhausted. Time to turn back to the 5 million home design/rip up your house shows I've been watching on tv. (Not that we are buying, remodeling, or flipping a house, or even own our house -- but it's fun to see how horrible most people's houses look. And I've seen a couple of neat tricks. )

fevered teaching

I'm home sick today, having been hit by one of the many evil viruses making the rounds at work. My fever is hovering between 102 and 103, so I'm really not trying to do anything more strenuous than change channels on the tv and skim a few blogs. I started feeling the onset Wednesday afternoon, but I didn't have any fever then, and kept trying to convince myself that it was just tiredness or allergies or some other non-sickness condition. But it soon became clear that I was actually coming down with something, and that I wasn't going to be able to finish grading all of my students' essays to hand back in class on Thurs. (Of course, if my psychic abilities were good enough to let me predict who would actually show up for class that afternoon, I could have just graded those students' work -- but that's not really my strong suit.) I feel genuinely sorry for my students, some of whom are anxious to learn their grades, and I hate feeling like one of those professor cliches. So I was heading into Thursday's class feeling bad about letting them down, and also just feeling plain bad physically: my head ached, I was coughing, and I could feel the fever beginning to burn.

So I was upfront with my students: I explained that I was coming down with something -- this was of course pretty obvious, since my voice had dropped two octaves and I was coughing. And then we did a small group activity in which I assigned each group a section of the text, and some focus questions based on the previous day's lecture, asking them to discuss it, and come up with some specific passages to present to the class. They spent 20 minutes in their groups, then the rest of class was a moderated discussion with their presentations and my expanding on what they pointed out, and bringing up some additional passages.

Yes, this activity was easier for me to manage, given the state of my voice that day and my low energy level. But it was also the group activity I usually do with this particular novel at about this point in the text. I would have done a similar activity in any case, sick or not. There's no way to make that clear to my students, although we've done group work before in class. I'm sure some of them assumed I did the group work because I was sick.

I always give very clear directions for group projects, and make it clear how that work relates to the rest of the class (in this case it was about developing close reading skills). That, and doing lots of different kinds of things in the classroom, are part of my approach to making my pedagogy visible to my students.

Although I don't think I could or would have done anything differently, I'm still thinking it over. Earlier this term, I made the mistake of looking myself up on ratemyprofessor because one of my students said he'd enrolled in class because my ratings were good -- to me they don't seem that good, but maybe I don't know what ratings my colleagues get. In any case, there was a vicious comment from a student last semester (a term for which I have not yet seen my official evaluations) about how I was lazy and did group work because I didn't feel like teaching. I know that the negative comments always ring louder than the positives, and I also know that each semester I have a couple students who dislike an active-learning, discussion based approach. They would rather sit and listen to a lecture. Because that's not the way I teach, they're never going to be happy, and I can assume that the complaining student was probably one of that group.

I don't need every student to be happy all the time, but I also don't want my class to think I was lazy. Plus, I made myself kind of vulnerable to my students by revealing my sickness. I was honest in telling my class that I was sick. To pretend otherwise would have been stupid. But I fear that it might have seemed manipulative, like I was asking for sympathy. I suppose I feel a little odd because, in fact, several of my students were sympathetic. One offered me cough drops and another sent me an email hoping I get better soon. It's a weird position to be in with my class.

out of the rabbit hole

I'm back! My knees are scraped and my fingernails are dirty from clambering out of the perversely magical rabbit hole that dropped me into WritingWorld, and my pinafore got a bit mussed too, but I'm all back to my own true size and promise I won't ever eat any of the mushrooms again . . .

I just sent off Big Article! and am deliriously strolling around the internet, which has been Off Limits except for committee- or student-related emails for about 10 days. Luckily my caffeine intake won't wear off for a while, since I do actually have to attend to a pile of essays that I all-too-optimistically suggested to my class that I'd have ready to hand back tomorrow. That was back when I thought I'd be able to email Big Article out of my life on Friday. What is it now? Monday night (at least it was when I started typing this post). The past six days are just a big fuzzy blur, especially once Thursday night rolled around and I no longer had to go to campus. I was sleeping polyphasically and only leaving the house to walk the dogs. Wearing the same soft baggy clothes nonstop. Rarely showering. Eating salsa at 10 in the morning, and carbs late at night.

Basically, in other words, I did every single thing that Boise and other experts tell you not to do. I binge wrote. I binged, and binged, and binged some more. And in the process I found my way to an argument I'm happy with, and some really sleek paragraphs (and some that are just plain and functional). This is the way I've always written and I'm familiar with its strange rhythms, the bursts of elation and the 4:30 a.m. breakdown, the snoozing at the keyboard and footnoted dreams.

It's not how I want to live the rest of my life, or even how I want to write the next piece I have due in a few weeks. It's just really hard for me to change. But I'll worry about that later. For now, I think I'm going to go stretch out on the couch and see what's on tv.

10 things I could have blogged about

1. how enjoyable my teaching is this semester
2. how morale in my department is plummeting
3. how exhausting job searches are from the department's perspective
4. how I haven't been sleeping enough
5. how I am writing something for a deadline and am feeling anxious
6. how my career is all just a series of accidents and I'm really a fraud
   
7. how crappy the weather has been this winter
8. how Speedy tore her dewclaw and is now stoned on doggie painkillers
9. how I'm a pathetic excuse for a blogger
10. how fantastic a mate my GF is: happy anniversary to us today!
    

if I were the Emperor of everything

Three simple rules that would have improved this week, were they followed:
(1) No meeting should be three hours long. Ever.
(2) Faculty who don't come to any of the job talks, job candidate interviews, or faculty get-togethers should not be allowed to pontificate in the hiring meeting about candidates they never met. They shouldn't be allowed to vote either.
(3) Mel should get 8 hours of sleep every night. Or at least seven.

last week's movies

We had to buy a new coffee pot earlier this week, and it wasn't until today that we figured out that its "cups" are calibrated differently than our old coffee maker. So we weren't using quite enough coffee each morning (we knew it tasted a little off, but hadn't worked out the math appropriately). So today, I feel so much smarter, and happier. It's all about getting the perfect chemical balance.

In order to keep to my new year's goal of tracking my moviewatching, some quick notes from last weekend:

• Children of Men: I enjoyed this one -- I think even folks who aren't much on futuristic dystopias have been liking it too. Gritty and yet beautiful; a dark vision of the future that seemed more plausible than many other films. Clive Owens is excellent, and I liked it as a film, but I did leave wondering what else might have been part of the novel -- I'm afraid some of the philosophizing and the quest for belief in the film for me took a back seat to the action. I suspect I might have had a deeper response to the book -- or at least I would know better where the book stood in terms of breeder politics. (I couldn't help but suspect that I was dragged into somehow caring about a prolife tract disguised as a film -- but I don't know anything about the novel to know whether that's actually the case.)
  
• Pan's Labyrinth: Not to my taste. A couple friends of mine loved this movie, which blends fanciful dreamscapes with an account of fascism in Spain. But I prefer there to be a logical coherence that wasn't there (either have it all be a fanciful world, or a realistic one -- not both), and was quite repelled by the film's luxuriating in scenes of torture. Yes, maybe there's meant to be some kind of message in combining a child's fairytale with gruesome mutilations, but I found it really missed the mark and didn't hook me in. Ultimately I couldn't really care about any of the characters -- they all seemed too flat: "innocent girl" "heroic rebel" etc. Blech.
  
• (TV) We've been working our way through the beginning of the 3rd season of BSG, which we were able to record from the rerun marathon 2 weeks ago. We might eventually even catch up to the current airings of the season's second part. Though it is kind of nice not to have to wait an entire week between episodes. This season is really taking on different kinds of issues -- larger political ones, and the characters' relationships are much more complicated too. As an odd counterpart, we've been watching the first few episodes of Rome -- I haven't fully committed to the show, as it seems very well done but kind of slow. But it's interesting to see how these dramas might connect or resonate with each other.
  

what not to write

One of my wise friends used to offer a sound piece of advice, usually in the context of relationships, but I think it works for the teaching context too. Basically, she said, you have to pick your battles. If something your mate does *really* bothers you -- if it's going to be a major annoyance every time you see the toothpaste tube uncapped, then you should say something about it right away. The first or second time. Because otherwise your irritation will build up to ridiculous proportions. On the other hand, if you recognize that the toothpaste cap isn't really that important, you have to practice laughing it off and letting it go. Because life is too short and too rich to waste time on the silly stuff.

So, I have this student, who is problematic in all kinds of ways I can't discuss here. But he has emailed me 3 times now. The first message addressed me as "Mr. Lastname" -- this was just before classes started. I replied, including my signature file (which includes my full name and title as is conventional at my U -- "Dr Mel Lastname, Associate Professor" ). His second and third emails have been addressed to "Mrs. Lastname." ARGGH.

I realised that although I laugh off a great deal of student email silliness (I don't care if they write to me from their surferdude87 account, or don't use capital letters, or much of the stuff that irks my colleagues), this was something that REALLY pissed me off. I couldn't help but read it as a marker of sexism -- even though I knew it was possible that this student was just ignorant of the correct conventions for addressing faculty. But those students who occasionally address me as Ms. don't bother me nearly as much. I've never before had someone attempt -- and persist -- in calling me "Mrs".

So in my last reply I simply said "the correct way to address faculty at the university is as "Dr Lastname" or "Professor Lastname." I'm interested to see what happens next.

week 2

Week 2 of the semester is, in my mind, the "real" week 1, because chronological week 1 is usually so chaotic with students dropping and adding courses, administrative snafus, bookstore problems, and copier breakdowns. Last week was made extra-ridiculous by the crappy winter weather, which not only makes me crabby but adds to the pile of student excuses. I was feeling kind of jumbled and out of sync last week, and attributing it to all sorts of immediate, local circumstances. But then I remembered that I feel that way during almost every single opening week of the semester. I'm just much happier once I have a regular schedule and things settle into some kind of routine.

Now, this semester has the potential to be really productive. I'm finally enjoying the fruits of my administrative labor, in the form of two course reductions, so I'm only teaching one class this semester. The timing couldn't be better: I have two articles due in the next couple of months, three conferences this spring, and a book project I want to have drafted by Christmas. I do, of course, still have my administrivia to do, and we're hiring this spring so there's a lot of meetings and job talks to go to. But last fall I started deliberately saying "No" to a number of things in order to protect this semester as much as possible.

What is going to be a challenge is to figure out how to prioritize research during the semester, as that's a rhythm that's just not very familiar to me. My teaching has to come second or even third right now, which is a different attitude than what I'm used to. It's a course I've taught before, so some of the prep will definitely be reduced -- but it's not even a question of hours so much as attention that I'm finding different. I'm just not thinking about my students or my course very much in between my teaching days -- I answer their emails, I read their work -- but my attention is elsewhere. Or it should be.

So far, my attention has been elsewhere -- but not always as fully on my writing as I would like it to be. Some of that I hope is just the first-week adjustment. So this week has to be different. I'm trying to set up routines for where and when to work on specific projects, so that my focus will be cued by location and habit as well as intention. Intention is good but habit is what gets me through a lot of the day, and tends to win the race.

great stuff

A list of small consumer items I'm currently thankful for:

1. Merlin (who I read for his productivity insights even though I'm not a Mac person (nor a programmer) was right. This really IS the best timer ever.
   
   I've been using timers for years while grading, to keep me on track, and over the past few months I've been doing a lot of timed writing sessions, as well as a few "dashes" for really tedious things. I've spent many hours in the past trying out various PDA and computer timer applications, some of which were OK. Often, however, what I want to time isn't computer-related. Plus I'm very easily startled, so I don't like a timer that has a very loud beep. This is the answer to all of my timing needs: you can set it to flash a light, or vibrate, or ring a chime -- or any combination of those things. So it works nicely as a meditation timer, a work timer, and as a stopwatch too. Even has a magnet on the back if you were going to be using it in the kitchen (though it sticks nicely to my filing cabinet, too).
2. I've been meaning to write a note about this little item for a couple months now.
   
   
   
   The computers that my university purchases have their front-panel USB ports placed at a very awkward angle -- I suppose for discreetness. But it means that it can be very difficult to connect a thumbdrive -- and my wider-bodied ones don't fit at all. Enter the amazing flex adapter which twists and turns any which way. So, no more cursing at the USB slot. I keep one at my desktop and one goes around with me for use in the library or classroom.
3. As you might imagine, dog hair is always an issue in our house. This brush
   
   is OK on upholstered furniture, which is what I bought it for (found it on an aisle endcap at one of the big home/bath places). But it's really excellent for pre-cleaning dog hair off of the dog beds, couch pillows, etc, before putting them in the washer. I take the dog bed outside and scrape off tons of hair which then doesn't clog up the washer.

(Yeah, I know, it's a filler post. But it's a post. And maybe you'll think one of these things is useful, too.)

Where have I been

this week? I've been messing with the space-time continuum, trying to put a postmodern fluid subjectivity into praxis, AND emulating certain well-known reclusive millionaires.

Or, in other words: it's the pre-beginning of the semester, GF has been sick with horrible flu/virus so I have been acting like two people, and I've been washing my hands a lot.

The whole two-people in one body thing? for. the. birds. At least this week, when I was already stretching my own limits by trying to simultaneously write an article, purge my home, prep for the semester, and go into the office. So then add to that double dog walks, 10,000 loads of illness-related laundry, grocery trips, etc. Now, GF barely ever gets sick, it could be much, much worse, and I don't mind taking care of her -- my frustration is with myself, for leaving so much of my own stuff for the last week of my so-called break. Yes, Universe, I'm getting the message, yet again, that I'm not supposed to put things off because Something Will Get In The Way.

The up side: I haven't come down with the evil virus. I may have barely any skin left on my hands from scrubbing them every few minutes, but I'm not sick.

lightening my load

Luckily, I have one more week before classes start. I have to go into the office later this week, but I am putting it off as long as possible. I have a huge pile of office & teaching related things to do. But first I have to finish writing an article and reorganize my study. I've spent the last two days recycling or shredding tremendous piles of paper, and filing other piles.

There's an archeology to this: the papers from the recently concluded semester -- the plastic box of pre-sorted items from the last time I did a weeding (sorted, but never filed) -- the two boxes from several years ago when my depression prevented me from dealing with papers of any sort. Some of these things are easier to handle than others. There's an emotional energy to these documents -- positive or negative -- I sometimes feel like I ought to wear anti-static gloves -- or whatever the emotional equivalent would be. As I go, I've been dipping into the filing cabinet and weeding things out so as to make room. There I discovered bursar's statements from graduate school, drafts of dissertation chapters, and various other things that I thought were weeded out several moves ago. It's scary to find these ghosts from the past, but very satisfying to get rid of them.

I no longer have any written comments from my dissertation director in my files. (This is not too difficult, as he wrote very little on my drafts.) I am not keeping paper drafts of any of my old talks, articles, or book projects. (I do, however, have digital archives of these things.) I'm letting go of the materials from my post-dissertation, pretenure project so as to make room for my current projects. I'm a different person now, and I need different files. Just like getting rid of the jeans that don't fit any longer.

I have a bad history of starting to weed things out and not quite finish, leaving things half-sorted in plastic containers which produce a simulacra of neatness. But this time I'm feeling more optimistic. I think I'm making real changes this time.

the week's movies

We started out the new year by going to see Eragon last Sunday -- I have been a fan of dragon stories ever since I was quite young and was given Rosemary Manning's novel Green Smoke to read. (Which sadly seems to be out of print.) And then of course I moved on to the Anne McCaffrey books, etc. I haven't read the novel of Eragon yet, but the story deftly blends several satisfying genres -- and the CGI dragon hatchling is awfully darn cute. If you like coming-of-age fantasy heroism mixed with boy-and-his-dog stories -- then it's got all you need. (Plus Jeremy Irons and John Malkovitch!)

Then we finally made it to see Volver, which easily has made it into my top five Almodovar films. Penelope Cruz is fantastic--beautiful, wounded, strong -- you realize how limited she's been in Hollywood due to casting stereotypes and language issues. There's lots of homage being paid to various classic films, but the film stands well on its own for a less educated film viewer (that would be me, in conversation afterwards realizing I didn't catch a bunch of references to movies I've never seen). More feminist, and sweeter than many of Almodovar's earlier films, it focuses on the layers of betrayal and resentment that come between mothers and daughters -- and offers these characters a chance to repair their relationship. Yes, it's a bit far fetched in some regards -- but the emotional devastation of abuse is carefully handled. I strongly recommend it.

And then yesterday we saw Notes on a Scandal, which is also really well done. Judi Dench is such a convincing wolf in Grandma's clothing -- the first person voiceovers in this film are quite effective (since she's a diarist) in alternately persuading and appalling you. The corrosive effects of loneliness, the smugness of the married, the overinvestment and miscommunication in new friendships -- all very realistically handled, and nestled within a plot that neatly destabilizes simple binaries of predator and victim. Neither of the two protagonists is wholly sympathetic nor wholly unsympathetic -- and that's the point. Another strong recommendation.

Since I often get to the end of a year and can't properly remember all the films I've seen, I'm going to try to record them more systematically here, even if very briefly. On DVD this week we finished season 2.5 of BSG (does anyone know if they are going to repeat the first half of season 3 before restarting it later this month? We got the dish TV midway through the fall season and didn't want to start watching midstream but now we'd really like to catch up), watched the pilot episode of 90210 (I'm still reserving judgment, since pilots are always kind of tedious, but the clothes are hilarious), and a few episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm. We're still all about the TV shows on DVD.

intellectual community

One of the reasons I go to conferences -- probably the most important reason, actually -- is that I get a huge energy charge from being around people who are actively engaged in their work. It's different at a smaller conference in my subfield, of course, where the debates or topics would be more directly relevant to my own research, but I also get that boost from a huge convention like MLA, where the variety of panels and kinds of scholars attending is equally exciting. It's nothing as clear cut as networking, or citations to useful sources, or copies of new interesting books -- though I often come home from a conference with some or all of those things. It's something more ineffable, something about being around a bunch of smart people who think more or less the way I do --and none of us are being required to think or speak about all the other things that our day to day positions in academia call to our attention. When I was a graduate student, I frequently told my friends that if I ever idealized our time in graduate school, someone should remind me of the misery -- and certainly, there was plenty of that: we were neurotic pawns in much larger games played by our faculty in a highly dysfunctional department. But we also knew that what we were supposed to be doing was reading and writing and talking with each other about ideas. Pretty much the ideal life for nerdy bookworms. And it's not exactly the life that one discovers out in the tenure track.

I really like my colleagues and my job is a good fit for me. But I think most of us in my department would agree that we don't have much of an intellectual culture there. There are lots of reasons for this: high teaching loads for many years (slowly dropping, at least for junior folks) that prevented people from pursuing scholarship -- which now prevents them from getting promoted; high service loads; and a lack of funds to bring in outside speakers, etc. The best published people in my department are explicitly, even agressively solitary, refusing to do any service and also refusing any collaborative or intellectual gestures from colleagues (reading circles, colloquia, etc). Yes, they get their work done -- but it doesn't contribute to a larger community of inquiry. Our current Chair has done a few things to improve the atmosphere in the department, but change is slow, and hampered by inter-generational feuding and resentment.

So I'm pondering a few questions as I plan my schedule for the spring: Is it possible to be a good departmental citizen and colleague and also be a good scholar? I'd like to think that some of my mentor figures were all of those things, but since I was never their peer, I probably wouldn't know. What kinds of institutional structures encourage an intellectually productive atmosphere? Does it all depend upon personality? Or is there something we/I could do to change things for the better? Because bottling the air at MLA isn't going to get me very far, no matter how high and excited I feel when I first return home.

why I'm not a fashion designer

Or maybe the title of this post should read, "I buy my clothes at a store designed for persons much younger than myself."

OK, let me back up. During the pre-MLA holiday sales, I picked up a comfortable and stylish pair of corduroy pants . I was really excited about these pants, because they are the first single-digit sized clothing I've owned since 1983. (This either means that vanity sizing is getting really extreme, or that the yoga is having external effects as well as internal ones.) Anyway, today when I cut the tags out of my new grey cords to wash them so I could wear them this weekend, I discovered that my delirium about the size had blinded me to one critical design flaw. The pocket lining is printed in a cheerful orange and yellow SPIDER pattern. Errrgghh! I mean, come on. Flowers. Or stripes. Or even plain old white pocket lining would be just fine. But who on earth wants to think about bugs inside their jeans?

Noting that the link I provided to the website even highlights the spider print as "extra flair" I realize that yet again I am Out of Touch with Young People Today and heading full on into befuddled middle age.

blogging and community

Horace and Dr Crazy have written very smart posts about the blogging panel at MLA, and the experience of meeting up with virtual acquaintances. So far, the main change I've noted is that I "hear" their posts a bit differently than before. Most of the people who I met at MLA were already in my daily core list of blogs, so that hasn't changed. I have spent more time in the last 2 days reading blogs from other people either not previously in my core, or completely unknown to me; some of those might stick in my feedreader, others might not. And, perhaps most significant, the whole little flurry of interest in blogging (at and after MLA) and especially the f2f meetups have revitalized my own interest in blogs. (Plus, of course, my spring semester hasn't started yet. )

Dr Crazy suggests that rather than worry about how or if blogging should count as a form of publication towards tenure, one could better think of it as a form of service. I think this is true of some blogs more than others (her generous discussions of her assignment practices etc are a kind of service to the teaching community, certainly). And personally, I don't see why one would want a blog to "count" towards publication, any more than my department should "count" the articles one of my colleagues writes for his church newsletter. (And yes, sadly, he submits these on his activity report each year.) One of the appealing things about blogging for me is that it is separate from all those dynamics and institutions, and yet related enough that it is academically energizing, soothing, or interesting.

There's another spot on the traditional academic cv that strikes me as equally viable as a comparison for blogging: the section of Professional Organizations (or memberships, or associations, depending on your institution's template). Now, I've always assumed that this is a vestigial remnant left over from Ye Olde Days when membership in one of these Old Boys Clubs actually meant something other than that you paid $45 and receive a newsletter twice a year. Why should any committee care where you spend your hard earned cash? I only belong to those organizations which sponsor the conferences I regularly attend (which usually require membership, a neat tautological circle). Simply belonging to the MLA, for instance, doesn't really say anything about you except that you attend the convention and/or want to receive the journal. Now, if you're an officer, or doing substantial work for an organization, most people would list that under Professional Service on the cv. Membership alone is a much more nebulous thing. It might be significant; it might demonstrate involvement, or activity; but it might not. Having your name in someone's blogroll is sort of similar.

On the other hand, the sense of community I've enjoyed online (and now also in person) is very real, and important. And perhaps comparable to the role that the professional organizations once played in the pre-internet days. Academics need the advice, support, and interest of others in their field -- we need things that our immediate departmental colleagues can't provide (unless perhaps you're in an extraordinarily large and congenial department). Blogging gives me a sense of the larger profession that is different from what I get from attending a major conference -- but both are valuable, and help fill in each other's gaps. Blogging doesn't necessarily replicate the hierarchical structures of academe (which most conferences do) -- some of the most compelling voices I've found have been from persons or positions marginalized within the system.

I'd hate to imagine a future when academics felt "required" to have blogs, or to leave comments on Important People's sites, etc. That's what would ultimately happen if blogging began to "count" within the institutional system. I think it's a much more powerful force for change precisely because it doesn't "count" in the same way as our other activities.

post MLA post

I woke up pretty early this morning and lay there thinking "wow, I'm not as tired as I usually am after the convention. This is great! I can get up and start in on all my various New Year projects." I lay around for an hour or so, enjoying the feeling of being in my own bed surrounded by my loved ones. Ate a bowl of oatmeal, and then the true post-MLA exhaustion kicked in and I promptly fell back to sleep for 4 more hours. I think the first wake-up was just a little bit of leftover conference adrenaline.

Then we took the dogs to the dog park to run themselves silly, which was great fun for everyone. They were very unhappy when I was away -- The Boss followed GF from room to room to make sure she didn't leave too, and Speedy obsessively licked her paw. Old Girl didn't do anything in particular that I've heard about, though she did come and snuggle in the bed with us this morning for my second-stage sleep, which she usually doesn't do unless there's a thunderstorm, so I think even she missed me.

After we came back, I assumed my recovery position on the couch: lying down with the fuzzy blanket so as to stay warm and use as little energy as possible. Speedy is snoozing with her chin on my feet, and I've been checking up to see what everyone else is saying about MLA. I plan on staying on the couch for the rest of the day-- I have Special Topics in Calamity Physics to read (all of my public library hold requests came in at once -- unfortunately this book was too big to carry on my trip, and now it's overdue, so I'm going to try and read it by Tuesday), and we are celebrating New Years Eve in our usual fashion: take out food and DVDs. Which, since GF is out in the car doing errands, won't require me to leave the couch at all. So far I seem to have avoided the dread MLA Virus (I washed my hands as often as I possibly could throughout the trip) and I just need to rest and build up my energy stores.

Knowing that so many bloggers who I regularly read were at the convention (and today I've discovered that still others were there too) definitely added a little extra buzz to the people watching and nametag scoping which is so central to the MLA experience. I kind of liked the uncertainty of it all, not knowing who I might have crossed paths with in person. And I really liked meeting so many bloggers -- though "meeting" doesn't seem quite like the right word. After the blogging panel on Saturday, Horace, Dr Crazy, BitchPhd and I had coffee and talked about the dynamics of blogger meet-ups, as well as our responses to the panel. One of the questions we wondered about was how meeting each other f2f would affect our reading practices (which all remains to be seen, I suppose). But the experience wasn't at all like meeting strangers, or even professional contacts -- we already know so much about each other's lives. And what also struck me was how easily we referred to shared texts -- "do you remember when such and such happened on my blog" -- a simultaneous ease and depth of reference that's pretty unusual I think, even for text-based academics. I'd only ever had one meet-up before, so probably this is all familiar territory, but it was new to me, and thoroughly enjoyable.

The blogger panel was very interesting, but for me (and probably for most people who have been in the blogosphere for a while) it didn't really alter the way I understand my experience. I would be really interested in reading responses to the panel from nonbloggers (were there any there? I would have enjoyed a quick hands in the air survey about who was or was not). (Of course, I just read over my previous sentence and noted that I am unlikely to read such responses unless the panel creates new bloggers. Or gets written up in the Chronicle or some such venue.) I appreciated, however, that different points of view were included in the group -- there is no consensus about what "academic blogging" or "bloggers who are academics" or "the academic blogosphere" might mean, include, or require, and I'm happy with that pluralism. Certain very well-trodden points of disagreement were evident, and there's really no need to go over them again here. I blog for my own reasons which are possibly very different from some other people's reasons. Enough, fine, good. There's more than enough internet to go around.

Because of the politics of nametags at the convention, I've had very different experiences over the years: as a graduate student with Prestigious U on my badge, I got many more second glances, even a few oddly fawning elevator conversations trying to determine how well I knew certain Famous People. Once tagged with my job at Large Urban, I began passing under most people's casual radar. That was fine with me since there's so many other kinds of radar beaming through the crowds too. I share face recognition with a number of people in my field who I don't really know, so we do a kind of quick smirk of acknowledgement. There are a few Pretentious people from Prestigious U who used to make my stomach flutter nervously wondering whether we would acknowledge each other or not; this year was pleasantly free of any nerves. We're all too old to worry about all that jockeying for position any more. (Or at least I am.) I even got a "hello" from a guy I was in grad school with who has since become Most-Quoted Critic for junior candidates in several subfields (I know, since I've sat on those searches), and an eyebrow wiggle from SuperSnobby Editor at Prestigious U Press. I trigger dyke radar for those of us on the team, so there's a whole set of codes of acknowledgment we perform (ranging from smiles to cool glances in the opposite direction). And now, there are the bloggers. Perhaps next year we can invent a nametag icon that means "yes, I'm a blogger but you don't know which one I am."

Of course, when we actually met up it turned out we had various shared connections -- everyone at the MLA is only separated by two or three degrees of separation anyway, so this wasn't so surprising. Trawling the web for MLA posts today did fuel my curiosity about a few identities of people I didn't meet (especially as I discovered some new to me blogs along the way). And I stumbled upon the (nonpseudonymous) blog of one of our short-listed candidates (which I'm not going to reveal to my colleagues, but will defend if someone throws a Tribble). If that person winds up in my department the thin veil of pseudonymity might get even thinner I suppose.

All in all, it was a good MLA. I have more to say about interviewing and about vegan travel, but the magnetically soporific couch is having its effects, so that will just have to wait.

MLA 2006

I'm one of those people who actually likes going to the MLA convention. For anyone who knows me, this might seem contradictory, since I'm not exactly an outgoing social butterfly. But socializing at MLA is not hard work -- after all, you're surrounded by thousands of people who are in your tribe. This means that you can blend in: there is no sartorial choice, behavioral tic, or neurotic anxiety that you could possibly have that no one else in the room has. It means that other people are likely to be worse at socializing than I am. And, perhaps most importantly, people from all the stages of my life are at the convention, and I can't help but run into them. Some of my favorite moments are like today's sidewalk encounter with a guy I was in grad school with, a guy who wasn't a close friend, but who lived in the same apartment building with me. I've occasionally wondered whatever happened to him, but he's not someone I would look up and email. But it was very pleasant to run into him and chat for a few minutes. There's an easy comfortableness about MLA socializing for me, probably because it's so freeform, largely unplanned, and fairly fleeting.

The other layer of MLA socializing are the planned get-togethers, the once a year lunches and coffees with old friends and new professional contacts. This year I haven't had as many of those meetings as I usually do -- I've been locked in a hotel room with my colleagues doing interviews, and Philadelphia wasn't a big draw for many of my friends I guess, so certian people who I usually hang out with aren't here. But tonight was an extra special treat as I got to meet Dr Crazy, Flavia, Nels, Horace, Dr B., and Scott! And there will be even more bloggery goodness bright and early tomorrow morning at the panel.

Here's hoping I can actually get some sleep tonight, as I haven't really been doing that the last two nights and was about to disintegrate from exhaustion over dinner. (You know, that horrid feeling when you feel like your face is going to suddenly melt and start dripping down the front of your shirt.) I can nap really well in hotel rooms, but sleeping at night is tough. It's always either too quiet or too noisy. I don't have GF and the dogs and our white noise machine to accompany me to the land of Nod. And I tend to get overstimulated by the whole MLA experience, and can't really wind down enough for bed. (Did I mention that I came up with a revised plan for my current book project this afternoon? As well as two editorial projects I'd like to do? There's something about being in the same space as all these other brains that fires up my own.)

But even if I don't sleep I should be able to get through tomorrow, since my professional responsibilties are OVER. An early panel, more bloggers to meet, and some time in the book exhibit. Then it's just hauling my ass to the airport so that I can get home and truly collapse into a post-convention fog of television watching and dog-snuggling. Word has it that the first disc of 90210 has arrived from Netflix at our house, just in time for New Years. (I didn't own a TV back in the day, so I have actually never ever seen an episode. It's about time I catch up, eh?)

The Emperor's Children

One of my great delights over the holiday season was the entire day GF and I spent lounging around the house, napping and reading books. Not work reading, either. It was like a sick day without having any unpleasant symptoms. I rarely get (or take) a day like that now that I'm an adult, but some of my fondest childhood memories are of days spent reading.

And the book I was reading on that day, Claire Messud's The Emperor's Children, was deeply satisfying, too -- on its own accord, but also because my hold request for it came in after a long stretch of mediocre library books that I didn't even find worth finishing. This book is probably a bit too talky for everyone's taste--a glance at Amazon's readers' comments suggests as much -- but I found the characters interesting, and their conversations and self-reflections quite realistic. The novel is all about identity formation, focusing primarily on a trio of 30somethings in NYC, friends since college now trying to figure out who they are, how or if they are living up to the potential for greatness they thought they once had. It's about family, about professional and social expectations and aspirations -- about relationships of all sorts. Because it's a New York novel about a preeminent writer (the father of one of the protagonists, and a protagonist in his own right as the chapters trade off) it feels in places as though there might be insidery references (which I wouldn't be in the know enough to catch) -- or it might all just be fiction good enough to be taken from real life. The characters are smart, frustrated, insecure, flawed: like people I know or could know. Messud is best I think at capturing different flavors of alienation: the awkward cousin who shows up from the sticks is painfully realistic in his sweaty blundering way, but even more impressive is the portrayal of the famous writer's daughter, trapped in a book project of her own, hovering in her father's orbit, desperate for his approval. The desperation embedded in ordinary lives is nothing new (and these literate, and literary, characters talk about Russian novels quite a bit) but this novel has a few twists and turns that spice things up. Books are significant, for these characters -- as romantic templates, ethical guideposts, cultural capital -- it's a novel written for people who love novels for something a bit more than mere escape.

closing the door

Today, I closed & locked the door to my campus office and I will not return until after January 10.

Yee-haw!

I even took my little plant home with me so it would survive and I would have NO REASON to go back there until just before school starts up.

I turned in grades late Monday; Tuesday was for wrapping up rec letters and admin stuff, and I thought for doing research at the library. But all the admin took longer than I thought and so today was library day. I might, of course, sneak back on campus just to the library before classes begin. But I'm really going to try to stay out of the office. Morale in the department has been utter crap this semester and I was doing an overload that I'd agreed to without realizing what effect it would have on me. I definitely need a break.

Of course, this thing called "break" also involves writing an article, prepping for 2 days of MLA interviews, and a variety of organizing/cleaning/household projects. But first, I need to somehow gear down and get into relaxation mode...

Xtreme Grading Championships

O'Brien: Hello, and welcome to today's exciting show here on X-Net, where we bring you highlights from this week's Xtreme Grading Championships, an all-terrain multi-day solo event in which contestants must use their skills of reading, evaluation, and writing to overcome obstacles like late work, hand cramp, and sleep deprivation -- all in a race against the clock. I'm John O'Brien, sports commentator for X-Net, and with me here today to provide expert commentary is Professor Alberta Higginbotham of Snooty University. Tell us, Professor, what does it take to make it through this grading event?


Higginbotham: Well, John, a grader needs incisiveness, strength, and focus. In addition, a seasond grader knows how to pace himself -- when to relax and when to put on the pressure. One of the exciting things about these Xtreme Championships is that the organizers have built in certain obstacles into the event to add some extra challenges.

O'Brien: What kind of obstacles are these? Are they realistic?

Higginbotham: Oh yes, absolutely. For instance, take our lead contestant at the moment, Dr Mel Lastname. In Wednesday's round she faced a meandering committee meeting and a trip to the dentist, both of which take away valuable time from her grading progress. As a special Xtreme Twist, she also received a large nail in her car tire. She lost some points then, because she didn't have any student papers with her in her vehicle to grade while waiting to get the tire patched. A champion grader should never leave home or office without some undergraduate papers!

O'Brien: Our cameras are showing you clips of Dr. Mel as she was completing the dreaded 2 a.m. sprint, a required event for Xtreme competition. Note her judicious sips of tea and water in between pages that she's marking -- a hydration strategy that serves a dual purpose since her carefully timed bathroom breaks keep her alert and enhance blood circulation. Notice how she stretches her spine and cracks her neck each time she gets up from the couch.

Higginbotham: Physical condition is a hotly debated topic among Xtreme graders. Dr Mel keeps to a vigorous activity schedule and clean eating up until the actual days of the event. At that point she switches to mostly carbs and caffeine -- the plan tried and tested by legions of experienced grading competitors. Some believe that healthy eating before a competition helps the grader handle all the bagels and corn chips, while others work to build up their junk food endurance on a consistent basis, not just during events.

O'Brien: So the 2 a.m. sprint is one of the compulsory events. What are some of the optional events, and how are they scored?

Higginbotham: Competitors can be very creative with their optional events, trying to maximize their points, which they receive for speed, flair, and risk. Last year's champion, Gregor Vandinsky, won because of his two-handed grading method -- he'd mark two tests at once, one with each hand -- which impressed all the judges even though his speed scores were slower than others. Here are some clips of Dr Mel going for speed and risk bonus scores by doing a Beat the Clock penalty sprint. It's a risky event because she risks elimination from the finals if she miscalculates.

O'Brien: In Beat the Clock, a grader is pitted directly against the clock -- with potentially devastating consequences. Dr. Mel's students are seen here taking their final exam, which lasts up to 3 hours. Mel has 6 papers left to grade when the exam starts. So she has to correctly predict which of these 6 students whose papers remain in the pile will finish the exam first.

Higginbotham: It's a nail-biting event for sure -- performed in front of her students, which adds to the tension in the room. If she makes a mistake -- if a student finishes his exam before Mel's graded his paper -- she's out, disqualified from Xtreme competition for a whole academic year.

O'Brien: There's also an additional humiliation penalty. Look here, at the first student who finishes his exam. His paper is already graded, but you can tell Dr Mel is wondering if others will finish as early. She picks up her pace, moving at top grading speed.

* * * * commercials from Xtreme Grading's sponsors, Advil and Red Bull * * * *

O'Brien: Welcome back to the exciting conclusion of Thursday's Beat the Clock round as Dr Mel switches the order of the last two papers she has to grade. Only 15 students remain in the exam room.

Higginbotham: Notice, though, even under this pressure, she still writes a long paragraph of final comments on each essay. This is part of the form that judges are looking for.

O'Brien: Look at that! the switch was the right thing to do, as we see Student Amy come up to turn in her exam and get her paper back. Dr Mel sure loaded up the risk points with that last-minute move, didn't she!

Higginbotham: Absolutely, John, and that's what makes her such a favorite for this year's competition. She always finishes strong.

O'Brien: What's her strategy for the final days of the event?

Higginbotham: We've heard that she's probably going to go for the procrastination bonus, eschewing all grading over the weekend, and leaving this last stack of blue books all for Monday morning.

O'Brien: Whew! That's going to be some exciting Xtreme sportsmanship. Be sure to join us Monday night for highlights from that round -- as well as the new relay team race between Spreadsheeters, Calculators, and Pencillers as they rush to finish their final figuring of course grades and input them into the system. I'm John O'Brien, this is Professor Alberta Higginbotham, and this was XTREME GRADING -- only on X-Net.

MLA

Well, after much institutional hemming and hawing, I am definitely going to MLA this year -- I've actually known this for about 2 weeks now, so it's not exactly fresh news -- I made all my travel arrangements the last day of Nov, just under the wire for the registration discount etc. But it's starting to sink into my mind a little more. I'm on a hiring committee, but the doubts about my travel were because our department policies about these things change from year to year (who goes to the convention, who pays, etc) -- I actually really like going to MLA, so I was glad to volunteer, especially since my Chair is paying for it this time. About half my time at the convention will be spent interviewing, but truth be told, I actually enjoy doing that work.

The duties involved in hiring new people are some of the few service duties that I think are inherently important. It matters to me -- both individually and as a citizen of the department -- that we hire smart, interesting new people who will fit well into our departmental culture. Since I'm probably going to be here for a few or many more years, this kind of service has real impact on my life. Yes, it's a lot of work -- and it can be emotionally draining -- reading stacks of files from good candidates who aren't right for a job can be depressing, since the job market in literature has so much randomness built into it. I wonder how many of these people will find jobs at all, much less jobs they are a good match for. And I have to confess to the occasional twinge of insecurity or jealousy reading some candidate files -- people who've had very different careers than I have, people who've drastically outpublished me, etc. But it's exciting, too, to remember that there are so many smart interesting scholars out there in the larger academic world beyond the walls of this concrete office building, and to pursue the chance that we might be able to entice some of them to come join us here.

Obviously, the job process is incredibly, horribly stressful for job candidates. But it can be anxiety provoking for those of us on the other side of the process too: will my top choice candidates turn out to be horrible duds in person? will we be able to persuade the various factions in the department to set aside old battles in order to make a good hire? will our top candidates even consider coming here? There's a certain kind of institutional insecurity that causes departments to second-guess themselves and the candidates, which I think is as damaging to the process as the arrogance of certain top-five departments who are rumored to make actual job offers at MLA itself to cut out the competition.

But for now, we're in the excitement stage, filling in our dance card for the convention. Lots of possibility in the air. 'Tis the season.

12th day

Just finished the 12th class of my mini-challenge, which I've been enjoying immensely. It's really been helping me to feel more calm during the end of semester zaniness (although the time commitment does sometimes feel like a struggle when I have piles of things on my desk). I was thinking this evening about my current favorite and struggle postures -- it makes sense that they are opposites of each other.

My favorite (if I had to pick one, though there are others I like too) at the moment is standing separate leg stretching pose (Dandayamana - Bibhaktapada - Paschimottanasana). I like all of the poses in which you extend the spine and reverse the direction of gravity. I probably like them because I'm reasonably flexible in this direction, so I can get fairly far into the posture. Once you can get your neck and spine in alignment upside down, it really feels great. This pose stretches your calves, hamstrings, and glutes, too, before you get to the spine -- and it's refreshing for the face & brain since the blood rushes forward. Not a pose to do without plenty of warmup, or without careful attention to the knees -- but by the time we get to it in the sequence, we've done a lot of standing poses and so the reverse direction feels great.

My least favorite pose, only two later in the series, has been my least favorite for a while: standing separate leg head to knee pose (Dandayamana - Bibhaktapada - Janushirasana). I've gotten better at it over time, but I still have to do the beginner version with the front knee bent. The front compression poses are all difficult for me (since I've got a lot of body weight to the front), and this one requires core balancing along with the compression. It's a powerful pose -- it will clear your sinuses when you didn't know you had congestion -- and it works on the internal organs as well as torso alignment. But I find it a struggle. Which means it's what I need to work on the most.

endings

Several people have been writing very movingly about their last days of class -- a day that I already had last week. My classes all ended a week ago Thursday, but I had final projects for one class due this past Monday, giving them an extra weekend. So Monday afternoon I sat in my office and students dropped by in various stages of caffeinated excitement to hand over their projects (some required materials that couldn't be turned in electronically). It was fun, in a way -- some of these projects are really exciting for them and for me -- but it attenuates the long goodbye process of the semester. We still have a final exam day next week, which is even weirder. I'm not very good at saying goodbye and so it feels kind of weird to have this sequence of moments of closure: last lecture, last paper, last exam. Especially since this particular batch of students were special favorites of mine.

About half the class will submit their projects over this weekend or coming Monday, taking advantage of the grace period I allow them (with appropriate points deducted from their final grade). I set up the grace period system so that I don't have to hear any excuses about why an assignment isn't ready on the due date -- everyone knows that if it's not ready, they have one more week. Easy. No complicated judgments required about ailing grandmothers or flailing hard drives. But even though excuses or explanations aren't necessary, some students offer them anyway. Best one I've received in a while was from a girl who's quiet, reserved, kind of conservative in appearance and demeanor. She wrote to tell me that her paper would be delayed because of the big football game -- because she's the mascot. Now, this is one of those funny little glimpses into a student's extra-curricular life that you sometimes get by looking at their email aliases (grrrlsk8r or luvswhales) -- it doesn't change anything about her intelligence or her performance in my class -- but it sure as heck was surprising. I just keep thinking, "so you're the kind of person who dresses up in a furry suit and runs around acting crazy?"

Like some of the other teachers I cited, I do perform some larger-scale wrapping up on the last day -- usually building on student discussion about the course as a whole (what did you expect to read in Literature of X, how have your ideas about the topic changed), throwing in some review for the final exam (here's the grand overview of the major themes of the semester), and adding some of the Big Idea sentences: Why I think literature is important. Why I think this literature is important. What we can all learn from this. Etc. I don't plan this stuff (it's embarrassing enough to admit it here), but it often winds up coming out of my mouth anyway if I get warmed up enough. And if not on the last day, then when, you know?

So yeah, I'm the person in the professor suit running around saying Grand Things about Literature and the Meaning of Life. Hopefully you wouldn't guess that to look at me. . .

by the numbers

So far this week, I have:

• sat through 9 hours of meetings
  
• met with 15 students
• written 2 recommendation letters

all that remains of the semester:

• 6 hours of meetings
• 8 recommendation letters
  
• 75 papers (4 to 15 pages)
• 31 essay exams
  
• two work-related holiday parties (one potluck)

And in an even happier numeric snapshot: last night was 9/25 with 16 more days left to reach my goal of 25 yoga classes by xmas. I've been feeling pretty strong, and oh so happy to be intensifying my practice right now. It helps me feel more grounded, given all the end of term chaos. One nice change is that my standing bow has dramatically improved -- it's not that surprising that given the way this semester felt (intellectually, psychically) that my balancing poses have been a struggle these past few months. Out of balance in life, out of balance in the yoga room too. So doing this little EZ-challenge has been a nice way to reclaim some focus and celebrate the end of the semester. It's not over yet (obviously) but in some ways I'm already detached from the routine and the things that were dragging me down this fall.

ending the semester

I taught my last class of the semester yesterday, which is always a kind of emotional day for me. Of course I'm usually glad to be reaching the end of the semester -- but it's also an ending, a time for thinking back with a little nostalgia or regret for what did or didn't occur during the past four months. For one of my classes, I was definitely sad on the last day -- this particular group of students had been a real joy. I've been teaching long enough to really know the difference between an ordinary class and one that is something else. This is not to say that they were all A-level students, or the best writers I've ever seen, or all heading to graduate school. But they were lively, engaged, interested in the material. They read the books, and came to class ready to learn more about them. And, not to put too fine a point on it -- I liked a lot of these students, and I think they liked me too. And that always helps. We all learned something over the course of the term, and enjoyed ourselves in the process.

In the yoga report: today was 5/25, 24 more days to complete my goal. I was tremendously distracted during last night's class, my monkey mind scrambling all over the place; this morning's early class was kind of a shock to my system, since I have been mostly going in the evenings -- but in a good way, since I wasn't yet awake enough to have distracting thoughts in my head. Thus far I've been feeling really strong and happy about getting back into a regular practice -- and it makes me feel more optimistic and grounded in general. It actually feels as if my yoga has jumped up a notch, too -- I know that has to just be my attitude, since a few consecutive classes isn't really enough to make a huge difference -- but I've been trying to get there early to soak up enough heat, and having a focus on getting to yoga throughout the day helps clarify what I'm doing when I'm there. So far, it's all good. (But I'm saying this knowing that inevitably there's going to be a horrible difficult nauseating class in my future -- that's just how it is, as you work through your stuff (toxins, issues, injuries...).)