Life is a Banquet

Why do you teach?

"What are YOU doing here?" At least once a semester I get hit with this question, and I'm still working on how to answer it. (And, why yes, I do have a life beyond baby. Not that you'd know it from my last seven months worth of blog entries). When I first started teaching two and half years ago, I was slightly, okay VERY, ashamed that I wasn't practicing law. I felt the need to offer grandiose explanations, and proceed as if I was waiting for either a law school tenure track position, a "very good deal" publishing contract, or a bolt of sense to hit my noggin and send me back to practice, post-haste. Mainly the latter.

I wasn't quite sure how to deviate from what my students saw as the golden ring: a degree with an inside track to upper middle class living.  I always ended up almost agreeing with the questioner: WHY  am I here? Why am I earning so little that even Sallie Mae has taken pity on me? Why are Freak and I living month-to-month instead of having an actual savings account? I even went through a brief period where I didn't even mention my law degree. 

And now, I have the perfect excuse: Of course I'm teaching. I have a BABY. (You knew this was going to come back to her sooner or later). There aren't any good part-time legal jobs. I'm CHOOSING to stay at home with her (cue noble sounding music).

But this is a lie. It makes it sound like my return to law is just a preschool application away. And it's not. I LOVE teaching. I love sitting in faculty meetings. I love writing "Professor" on my email signature line. I love an especially great class night way better than I ever loved a trial (none of that nervous sweat in an expensive suit is a great bonus). I love the start of a new semester. I even love the unknown: what will I be teaching next term? What hours?

I still may return to practice, but I think my ideal future is in academia. And somewhere along the line, I've come to love the community college setting. I get students at the cusp of their dream. And, for me right now, the challenge is articulating MY dream well enough that they feel empowered to choose their own path.

Being a lawyer wasn't really for me? Why is that so hard to admit?

Why I teach . . . Reason #318

I'm pretty sure that I can't quote student essays on here, which is a darn shame, because several finals have made me all misty (darn hormones). I ask students to write about the things they can do to continue to work on their writing.  While I sifted through 50 variations of "I need more time for writing" and "I need to make writing a priority" (essays that I could easily write myself right now), another interesting theme emerged: reading. Many students said that they planned to read more for pleasure to help improve their writing by studying other writers. A number mentioned that my enthusiastic recommendations of books from essays and my tireless cheerleading of the benefits of reading had convinced them to give reading a try.  One student said that he'd never read anything that wasn't assigned for a class, EVER, but that I'd convinced him to try. Another student gave me a handwritten thank-you note thanking me for the class.

That's why I do this. If I can help one student to find his or her inner writer or even just convince them to give reading a try, then all the grading is worth it. Because so many of them mentioned reading as a summer goal, I'm thinking of sending them an email with some super-fun book suggestions. What books are GUARANTEED to hook non-readers?  Does reading make YOU a better writer? (And speaking of writing, be sure to share your appliance horror stories below---I know there are more of you out there!)   

I Do Like Teaching . . .

That-which-I-could-not-speak-of at work is over, done, finnito. And the last two class periods, I've suddenly remembered why I chose this road, why I do this for peanuts, why I believe passionately in teaching. I love the flashes of moments where I become my favorite teacher, where I get so excited and jazzed up about something small like revision.  I love it when I come up with a great metaphor--one that helps not only the students but also me to see something more clearly. I love it when I actually believe myself that this matters.

Today, I was talking about revision and how writing truly is rewriting. See Donald Murray et. al. for more eloquent explanation of this topic. I found myself excited to get to editing again. I left class really believing that I could be ruthless with myself and that it would be FUN. Damn, I'm good. 

Professor Wavybrains Rides Again

I got the job. Not only did I get the job, but I got the textbooks, the handbook, and the dates for orientation.  I'll be teaching three classes starting the first part of January.  I'm very excited. This is a school that I've wanted to be a part of since landing in Oregon.  Plus, ye gods willing I should still have time to write. 

This job is a double blessing because it's also on a major busline that runs by our house. Why is this a blessing you ask? Shouldn't you be back to driving,  Wavybrains?  You would think so, the three month anniversary of my injury having passed last week. Unfortunately, the x-rays today showed another four weeks of winter--it is healing, but infinitesimally slow.  The torn ligament(s) have not finished reattaching and the bone still has a small gap.  So, I'll be the professor otherwise known as Darth Vader. "Clomp. Clomp. Here's your homework. Clomp. Clomp."

Do any of you have little pre-job interview rituals? Mine include extra-long shower, a new item of make-up and a haircut.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that 4 of my last 5 cuts have been job inspired.  This is one of my favorites and one of the cheapest--$10 at SuperClips. And lo, I look just like my mother. I'm finally old. I never used to look like her :) And no, I can't show you. Clanna's blog shy. 

Before                  

After

Send Good Energy

Interview just called. Really want this one. Send good vibes my way. Will tell more when I can. 

Post-Yule Slump

It seems as though most of the blogosphere is in a big slump, so I will work on not feeling so guilty about not blogging. But, of course, I am a woman DRIVEN by guilt, so this really isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter that SHE hasn’t posted for a good six months or that even the legendary her and the fabulous Ms. Fish have off months—the guilt it consumes me. 

 

My excuses which sound lame even to me:

1) Christmas. I gave over 50 presents, made about 2/3 of them myself, and wrapped them all in matching paper and mailed 5 boxes off to points east. Glutton for punishment. See the flickr pics for all the gory and crafty details. 

2) SAD. Winter, so very, very gray. I am a small, unhappy hobbit in my beloved hobbit hole hoping against hope for spring. Right now, I’m thinking of doing an Island Paradise living room makeover to help bring some LIGHT back into my life. Tell me what you think: 

These Blinds: 
Cost: (2 big, 2 small) $34 + 30 dollars shipping= $64

Topped with white valances made with material left from the bedroom project. 

Then add These slipcovers:


Cost: $25 each x 2 = $50

And Sherwin Williams Daffodil Paint (SW 6901)—about $30. Total makeover cost = $150. Not bad huh???? 

3) Work. I’m in the middle of launching my own business to ensure that I get to keep writing AND eating. Unfortunately, this really isn’t something I can blog about here. Suffice it to say that I’m actually going to USE my law degree. At least until the big bucks (ha ha ha ha ha) from writing start rolling in. But, in the meantime, I’ve been drowning in article deadlines and other boring crap. 

4) Life. Life is being lived on a grand scale here these days—lazy evenings watching enterprise with Freak, crocheting marathons, trying to assemble some facsimile of a social life . . . . . Life being lived further away from the clutches of my laptop. Egads. 

 

Life promises to stay busy, but I’ve got some year-end/year-ahead reflecting to do, so stay tuned! 

Remember Me?

Hey remember me? I’m the one who started November full of piss and vinegar and have emerged on the other end full of piss and something else. So how did it all go? Hey look over there—new Flickr photos! Dogs in shirts!

Turkeys

!! What you still want to know about ME? Well, all my Christmas shopping is done save for *Freak* but I know what that is. And I have piles of lovely knitting. . . .

No really, you want to know about NaNoWriMo? I’m at around 27,000 words and stalled right now. By choice. My finished novel now has a synopsis and is in the mail for the Golden Heart competition and is *this* much closer to going out the door to an actual live editor. I’m thrilled with how much I got done on the NaNoWriMo novel, and I fully expect to hit 50,000 soon. Just not by tomorrow night. Trying to do Golden Heart AND NaNoWriMo IS possible.

But not if you also have an identity crisis, the flu, and are fighting the kind of inertia that only other work-from-home isolationists can understand. The identity crisis is actually pretty simple. It’s the same one I’ve been having since my third year of law school. I want to be a writer not a lawyer. But, oh, I have bills to pay. So how to do both? I continue to sell articles and am in the process of marketing my legal services to other creative persons. . . but the guilt over my chosen path is actually MOST if not ALL of my “crisis.” The “I shoulds” and “I coulds” have a tendency to suck my days right in. 

Freak is dealing with his own crisis of being at the moment, which makes my crisis more relevant—we need a steady source of income, but I want to be a writer and he wants to be an artist. And eventually, it will all work out, Ma in her kerchief and Pa in his cap . . . wait. Wrong story. Anyway. Eventually, things will settle down, the credit card debit will disappear and we will come to trust in the universe a little more. 

I’m afraid I’m fresh out of blogging mojo . . . but hey! Pictures! (And book reviews coming soon . . . LOTS of new books to talk about!). 

Home Sweet Work

No, I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth in a fit of rewriting angst. I’m still here. In fact, Friday,  I’m there also—I’m Michele tommorrow. Sadly, my novel is no closer to going out to prospective publishers, and my works in progress are also sporting stagnant word counts. This is okay, though, because I’m slowly going crazy—but being paid for it. My freelance work is starting to kick up a notch, and I’m knee-deep in the badlands of moveable type, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Typepad = fine. This = darn near impossible. But, life is so good at the moment, I really can’t complain. I’m absorbed by this work, loosing track of time, and enjoying little successes and I’ve sold three articles in the last week to boot.  

So I suppose, I can call myself a “writer” now and not flinch. Well, not flinch much. I’m still expecting lightening to strike every time I utter such heresy. The biggest adjustment in the last three weeks has been adjusting to the loneliness—I wasn’t aware how much I relied on the social interaction of the office. I’m such a people person, and I like to talk (just a little bit—stop laughing now). And while, Freak and my mother will undoubtedly attest to the fact that I could talk to a blank wall, I really do like having an audience conversations.  

But, I’m making more of an effort to get out, and as I settle in to a rhythm, I can honestly say that I love this. I love being home for all three meals, I love being semi-caught up on laundry. I love setting my own schedule---even with all the procrastination that entails. It’s hard right now with Freak still suffering through much job stress, to be so happy myself, to have something I love to do. It feels wrong somehow, but I’m slowly learning to let go and enjoy where I’m at. Even if that place DOES leave little time for blogging.

Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life . . .

After I collected my water cup & the last few things from my desk, I felt a sense of relief and excitement about the future. I DID IT! But, I’m also tremendously sad about leaving behind some amazing people, work that I genuinely love doing, and a sense of purpose. The hardest thing was turning in my badge. I loved my badge, my little symbol of having arrived where I wanted to be.  I felt naked and vulnerable, standing there, badgeless, holding my water cup like a newly minted vagrant looking for a handout. As the empty feeling of sadness and relief spread, I felt like I should be taking myself out to lunch or ice cream or planning a nice little cocktail hour for this evening. I mean isn’t that how you cope with sadness?

But, the thing about being a diabetic is that you can’t even throw a proper pity party. Assuming you FELT like a drink, it’s really not an option unless you want the hangover before the buzz sets in. Ditto sugar. Mmmm brownies . . .plates of brownies . . .topped with coffee ice cream and drifting off to sleep into a pleasant sugar coma. Only to wake up inches from NEVER WAKING UP AGAIN. Ah, the joys of low blood sugar. Self-medication just isn’t an option anymore.  

Luckily, for those of us thwarted in our attempts to drown our sorrows in booze and chocolate, retail therapy has absolutely no long term affects on the blood sugar. Thus, tomorrow, my first day of the rest of my life, I’ll be going to a chi-chi Aveda salon and getting my hair cut and colored, the forest that is my eyebrows landscaped, and a pedicure. This weekend, Freak, who is racking up good husband points all over the place, is taking me to the beach where I will drown any remaining sorrows in the ocean.  

I racked up a few clearance bargains while waiting for my prescriptions to be filled, and so I feel slightly better.  I’m still Wavybrains. And as much as it hurts to move on, I am also so excited about the future, about the possibilities that lie ahead for me

Time to Celebrate

Tommorrow is my last day at "the job," finishing out my two year program. I'm feeling a mixed bag of emotions right now. And then this: wavybrains's Daily Sagittarius Forecast: Fun and goodwill are in abundance in your life. It's time to celebrate. Um, okay. I can live with that. Because really, goodwill IS in abundance right now, and I suppose I DO have a lot to celebrate. My husband is taking me to the beach this weekend, my friends want to make me dinner, and my life, really it IS good. Wish me luck as I "celebrate" this transition.