Arsenic Lobster (and a bit about teaching and technology)

I've got four poems in the new issue of Arsenic Lobster. Lovely, lovely stuff in there. I've just barely had a chance to nose around. Can't wait to read the rest.

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I'm quite fascinated with Digital Ethnography and am wondering how I might incorporate some of Wesch's ideas into my comp classes (or even poetry, perhaps) the next time I teach (I'll be doing all my hours in the office this coming semester, no teaching until the fall). I think this video would be a great conversation starter in a classroom:

Visiting Writer

Tomorrow, I'm visiting Barberton High School and a dear friend's English classes. This is my first time as a visiting writer and I am extremely excited/extremely nervous. My chapbook, as those of you who've read it know, is sometimes a little...hrm, how do you say...risque? inappropriate for teenagers? As someone who chose to teach college so that I wouldn't have to worry about such things, I'm waaay out of my element here.

I've developed a prompt that is based on my poem "Stella Takes Me to Tucson" but inspired by John Gallaher's post on writing prompts. I'll be asking the students to write about going somewhere they've never been before with someone they think they know well, but maybe don't. If the exercise goes well, maybe I'll post it here, but for now, I'm keeping it to myself.

An interesting coincidence...one of the primary settings of the poems in the chapbook is Barberton. The kids I'll meet tomorrow will have their own stories about Lake Anna, the Dollar General on Wooster Ave...but hopefully not the Star Inn. Should spark some interesting conversations/questions.

Will be back soon to let you know how it went.

it's all downhill from here...

It's that time of the semester...you know, when your days are filled with equal parts panic and procrastination, when you know (because it's happened every semester for the past five years) that you will somehow finish everything even though you can't actually imagine how. The momentum of the semester is such that you can't quite keep up with your laundry or your dirty dishes, but you can find time to watch Grey's Anatomy reruns (again) and take two or three naps while you're "reading." ...when you take a half-hour to update your blog because, clearly, that's the best use of your time.

So, some updates.

Learning Italian
At the moment, I'm at New Wave Coffee, where in a little while I'll be meeting Federica, my Italian conversation partner. This is only our second meeting and quite possibly our last. This is for a couple of reasons, one being that I can't really see myself having time for another meeting before the end of the semester, which I think is when she returns to Italy; the other is that it turns out I don't get to take any more Italian classes, so the urgency to learn has fizzled. I wasn't using very much foresight when I decided to take 4 semesters of a 4-day-a-week class...as a grad student/TA, I just don't have enough control over my schedule. The class I need to finish my coursework on time conflicts with all three sections of Italian 102 next semester.

When found out about this conflict, I started looking into my other options and found out that the Spanish translation test is probably well within my abilities, so that's the new plan. Maybe someday I'll be able to go back and really learn Italian, but it's not going to be possible while I'm getting my PhD.

Intro to Poetry
I think I've learned way more in this class than any of my students, but that's okay. They're improving, they're writing interesting stuff, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. I can't ask for much more my first time out of the gate. In the future, I think I'll spend a lot more time preparing my materials and will without a doubt use a real textbook instead of a course packet. I also don't think I'll spend quite as much time workshopping if I teach this class again. It feels like we're repeating the same conversation every day, every poem, and the students would probably be learning more if we were doing different types of writing exercises, if we continued to read published work throughout the semester, etc. Like I said, I think I've learned a lot more than my students.

Workshop
I'm stumped. I turned in a revision last week that AW hated, completely tore to shreds, and I'm afraid now to revise the rest of the poems for the portfolio. It's so strange how some days she compliments what I'm doing and other days she just throws up her hands. I think one thing I gained during my MFA was the ability to defend my work even when a reader (mentor, even) didn't like what I was doing--but this past year or so has diminished that ability...I don't trust my gut anymore, and so I don't trust my work. I just want to finish a poem and be sure it's done, ready to be out in the world...and I can't remember the last time I felt that way.

Next Semester
The class that makes it impossible for me to continue with Italian is in Renaissance lit. It's not one of my main areas of interest, but it's a real, honest-to-goodness lit class: we'll be reading plays and stories and poems and not just theory! I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about that. I'm also taking two workshops, one poetry (with Christina Pugh) and one non-fiction (with Luis Urrea). It may not be a good idea to take 3 grad level classes, but I'm not teaching next semester, so I think it'll be okay. Plus, I've had this non-fiction project in my head since my last semester at Akron, and my newest poems are leaning toward flash non-fiction, so I really have got to work with Urrea when I have the chance. The best thing, though, about next semester? I only have to be on campus 3 days a week, and I don't have to get up at 6am every day!

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And Federica will be here any minute, so that's all for now. Happy Thanksgiving!

Now Available!!

Yep, that's right. You can buy your very own copy of my chapbook now. Just click here: Flood Year

But...there are several folks who will be getting little presents in their mailboxes as soon as I get my next batch of copies. I thought I'd go to UA when I was in Ohio to hand-deliver some copies to friends and mentors, but my family snatched up all my author copies. I also owe some folks a trade, so you all will be getting those too.

Otherwise, I hope you'll think about buying a copy and supporting dancing girl press, which does such great work.

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I translated a poem about sailors and prostitutes tonight. From Italian. It was fun. The poem is "Citta` vecchia" (Old City) by Umberto Saba. Next up: a poem in sapphics. I guess that means three lines of 11 syllables each plus one line of five syllables, repeat as desired. I'm terrified because it isn't just about counting syllables, but also about counting stresses, and I have a tin ear. You'll never catch this girl writing sonnets or blank verse. Well, never say never.

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What a strange, strange world this is. I still can't believe I live in Chicago. I still can't believe it's almost winter.

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My sister Carla is coming to visit in a few weeks. I can't wait to do touristy things with her and introduce her to my friends.

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Workshop started in my intro to poetry class. It's going so, so much better than the first half of the semester did. Some of my students are really talented and they are all working really hard. I'm proud of them and (finally) excited to walk into the classroom every day. I feel like a big nerd, but I love it. Oh, and the number of students who have come to see me during office hours has quadrupled in the last week. That's always fun.

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I'm happy in a sad way right now. Does that make any sense to anyone?

Since I've got five minutes

Here's what's happening:

Joshua Corey is reading at the Jane Addams Hull House @ UIC tonight. Yours truly will be introducing him. Odd, introducing someone you've never met.

Gary and I are challenging each other to a Poem-a-Day in September. So far, 2 decent drafts, 1 silly/sleepy draft. (By the way--I think Gary should update his blog, don't you?) Maybe over the weekend I'll post the drafts.

Italian class is not un disastro anymore, but I'm not enjoying having class 4 days a week.

My Intro to Poetry class has its ups and downs, though I think these are directly related to the amount of sleep I got the night before. I'm still not used to teaching at 9.

And my five minutes are up. Have a nice weekend, folks.

in the interest of balance...

a happy post:

today, my poetry class was excellent.

but then there's this:

I open up a poem draft and find a stanza I forgot writing.

I have to believe someday teaching poetry will be like writing poetry: I won't even know I got it right until later.

those who can't do...teach?

I might have mentioned it once or twice before, but damn! teaching is hard.

Deciding what to teach is hard. Deciding how to teach it: even harder. Prepping class notes: tough. Standing in front of a classroom and putting your brain/soul on display: nearly impossible. Grading/annotating with the right amount of encouragement and criticism: exhausting.

Maybe some of you are naturals, but not me. This is the hardest job in the world.

And I want so badly to be good at it, to be inspiring, to share this thing that I love with people who might fall in love with it, too. I want to be Mr. Keating, except without the depressing turn of events at the end. I want to make people stand up on their desks and see the world in a way they didn't before. Why isn't it as easy as it looks in the movies? And why aren't I as funny as Robin Williams?

Oh lordy - part 2, or Wait, you guys aren't freshmen

Did I tell you about the freaky teaching dream I had last week? The one where I totally lost control of the classroom and everyone walked out except for two people who stayed just to tell me I sucked? I thought I was about to have deja vu today.

Okay, it wasn't that bad. But my intro to poetry students are 1) not very enthusiastic and 2) sharp. I'm bummed about #1 and hoping I can turn it around and psyched about #2 but also intimidated. I was nervous and they looked bored. Not a good combination.

And since they're smart, they've probably found this blog and I probably shouldn't be writing about them. But what would I write about if not my fears of being an inadequate teacher?

Friday will be better. Cross my heart and hope to die.

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I'm not the new kid on campus anymore. I can't go anywhere without running in to someone from the English dept or a student. Sometimes I just want to be anonymous.

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Italian 101 update: the letter combination "ci" is pronounced with a ch sound. the letters "chi" are pronounced with a k sound. Are they just trying to confuse me? Our first listening exercise is due tomorrow and I'm guessing I failed miserably.

They say that introverts acquire language first through reading and writing, while extroverts acquire language through speaking and listening. If y'all hadn't noticed, I'm an introvert. It is driving me batshit crazy in class when the instructor doesn't give me 1/2 a second to think about what he's just said or written on the board. He says we learn from repetition, but I'm not really interested in parroting what he says when I have no idea what it means or how the grammar works. Apparently I'm going to have to teach myself Italian, just like I taught myself Math for Liberal Arts (yep, it's a real class) in college--which is to say I'll learn more from the text book than from the teacher.

Disclaimer: I'm not saying my Italian instructor is bad at his job. I think he's great, and I wouldn't be able to do what he does. But I don't learn the way he teaches. Most people do...so I just have to learn to compensate. Means I'll be spending a lot more time on my homework than I imagined.

I did learn something in class, though. If you ask me how my day was, I can say "un disastro." Yes, it's a cognate.

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This may somehow turn into the semester of Dante's Inferno. We'll be reading Pinksy's translation of it in workshop and I'm thinking about writing a paper about it for my lit class. This is a very unformed plan right now, but it could happen. Yes, I admit, I'm thinking ahead to exam lists.

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I haven't written a poem since I returned from Ohio. Good thing I have to turn in two next week.

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Is it really only Wednesday? I'm so ready for the weekend. Going to bed really early is not nearly as satisfying as sleeping in really late. The alarm is set for 5:30am. Ick.

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How'd I do on the spewing, R?

A little more navel gazing...

Life has been full and oddly overwhelming lately. I'm not busy in the normal sense of the word, but I'm keeping myself busy and keeping my mind full (ha! mindful. I'm such a dork) with teaching ideas, poetry ideas, who-the-hell-am-I-and-what-the-hell-am-I-doing ideas. I don't have internet or cable at home, so I've been reading fiction in the quite hours when I'd normally zone out in front of a flickering screen. I read A Million Little Pieces* in one day. Then The House of Sand and Fog, and now I'm half-way through Pigs in Heaven. This is easily the most non-critical prose I've read since I took a class on creative non-fiction during my MFA.

(*Regardless of the Oprah debacle, it's questionable how much of Frey's "memoir" is memoir, especially in light of the tidbit I heard somewhere that Frey pitched it as a novel, but memoir was so hip at the time that his publisher convinced him otherwise... anyway, this is unsubstantiated rumor, but I'm still thinking the book is a novel.)

I'm excited and terrified to teach Intro to Poetry Writing this semester, and have been spending a tremendous amount of time compiling the course packet which essentially is a mini-anthology of the poems that helped me figure out how to be a poet. Of course, I'm still figuring that out, so the thing never feels done and I'm convinced that once I drop it off for copies, I'm going to realize that I left out the most important poems. I guess that's why there are xerox machines, right? I couldn't bring myself to use a textbook or stock anthology because this is the first time I get to teach what I love, and I wanted as much control over it as possible. Now I'm thinking: what the heck do I know about poetry? and just hoping that my excitement for it will cover up the gaps in what I don't know. I'm hoping to post a more substantial something on transitioning from comp instructor to teacher-of-what-I-love sometime soon, but not today.

As for my solipsism: I'm busy putting Humpty-Dumpty back together again after what I can only describe as the most difficult year of my life. Who would have thought that moving to a new city could completely decimate a person's self-ness? Okay, maybe decimate is the wrong word. Maybe scramble. Maybe perforate. Maybe shred.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day I got in the car filled with all my stuff and drove six hours to this big, crowded, scary place and started trying to make it fit. Today, I can say it sort-of, almost does. But the me who sorta-kinda fits here today isn't the me who showed up 364 days ago and that's what I'm trying to understand. I did some massively stupid, self-destructive things while ostensibly trying to survive, and I'd like to be able to explain, someday, to myself and the people those actions affected, why I acted the way I did. Right now, I can't even come close, except to say I was sad and lonely. But that doesn't feel like an answer.

More importantly--or at least of more immediate importance--are the questions I have about my work and my place at UIC. I'm still having trouble finding a poetic community here, probably because there are not a lot of poets in the program to begin with, and the ones I know are primarily working on dissertations and not taking workshops with me. I'm also struggling to see my exam committee, and the dissertation committee that follows it, coming together. I'm not sure what my lists are going to be and I'm not sure who I'd like to work with. Unfortunately, I do know who I don't want to work with and I don't like that feeling. I'm hoping that I can slap a quick coat of paint over the mistakes I made last year academically and be more productive and positive this year.

Aaaah....I could go on and on about this, but I have many more things to take care of in my tiny little window of internet time today.

Oh, Students...

Every semester, I grow to love teaching a little bit more. Which is good, because if I didn't love it, I wouldn't be able to deal with the not so fun stuff.

This semester, for the first time in my short (3 year) teaching career, I have had oodles of students emailing me because they are unhappy with their grades. And the weird thing is, in the past, my students' grades were consistently worse than they are this semester, but nobody ever complained.

What is up with that? It's giving me an ulcer.

Who knew?

I learned the most amazing thing today. If you start working on a paper a couple of weeks before it's due, you can take a break when you hit a wall. You don't have to just keep at it even when your brain has turned to mush.

I was hoping for a five page draft, but I ended up with a 13 page outline-ish thing. It's enough to get me through the meeting I have scheduled with the prof tomorrow, and hopefully said meeting will help me get through the wall.

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Speaking of walls, I haven't thought much about NaPoMo for a few days. Not since Saturday, actually. I wouldn't say I'm giving up, but with the semester winding down, I think all of my creative energy is going to be going to these two papers I'm working on. If a draft happens to come to me, I'll post it, but I'm not going to force it. I'd say that the 15 or so drafts I've gotten are a pretty big accomplishment, considering I usually spend a semester coming up with 10-12. There's still, what? 9 days left this month. I could maybe get a few more.

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I am dying to start working on my course materials for Intro to Poetry for the fall, but that just can't be a priority right now. I have decided not to use a text book (unless someone can suggest something that is perfect) which means that I have to compile a course packet. It's going to be lots of fun (and for once, I'm not being sarcastic!). I also might teach a couple of full length collections...but how do you pick?

Some days, I love being wrong

They're letting me loose in a poetry classroom after all! No teaching comp for me next semester.

Somebody pinch me.

About Teaching

Some of you may have had the good fortune to come across my pity-party this morning, but I quickly came to my senses and removed it. I got some work done, cooked a yummy dinner, and am now drinking a glass of wine. Most, if not all, of the world is right again. Until it's not. At which point I will whine, mope, and eventually kick myself into shape. Like I did today.

Anyhow.

That's not what this is about. I want to talk about teaching. About what a strange semester it has been for me as a teacher, and about how things are shaping up for next semester.

I'm teaching two classes right now, and they couldn't be more different. One class is small, engaged, and fun. They have some trouble with reading comprehension from time to time and struggle with the paper assignments (which I can't really blame them for--they're tough [I didn't write the assignments, so it's not like I'm patting myself on the back here]), but they care, and they ask questions, and they tell me if they think I'm full of bullshit.

The other class is everything this one isn't (ha-weird how that happens when I said earlier they couldn't be more different. duh). There are too many students and most of them couldn't care less about...I don't know: the topic of the class, their grades, their classmates, etc. But more than that, this class is set up to be different because I'm co-teaching it with another grad student. I don't know if any of you out there have done much co-teaching, but my partner and I hate it. We've had many conversations about how much we hate it, and many conversations about how to make it better, and it's just not working. I've talked to some colleagues who are co-teaching the same type of course and they enjoy it, so I don't know what the problem is. Maybe it's a personality thing, maybe it's an experience thing (for example, back when I was Mary's teaching intern, I didn't hate that--but Mary was the expert and I was the intern; we had very separate roles.)

As frustrating as this class is, it's been instructive to me. Watching someone else teach on a day-to-day basis has helped me to see how students respond to certain things, what types of activities work and don't work, without having to be the one standing in front of the class. It's easier to see (when you're not running the activity or discussion or lecture) whether the silence and blank faces is a sign of zoning out or of confusion, for example. And having a co-teacher to give immediate feedback is nice, too. But I'd still rather do it alone. Then again, I'd rather do most things alone.

Teaching at UIC, on my own or with a partner, is totally different than teaching at UA was, though. First of all, the student body is much more diverse and (sweeping generalization here, there are certainly exceptions) more down-to-earth. It seems fewer of my students this semester are in school because Mom and Dad said they had to, and more are here because they have some sort of drive. There are fewer non-traditional students (only one who is clearly older than me, and one who is definitely close to my age), and fewer single parents. More than half of my students are bilingual; many, many of them weren't born in the US. They make me feel so much more sheltered than anyone else I've come across in my short time in Chicago. And they think it's funny that I'm from a small town (eh, most people think it's funny that I'm from a small town, I guess). One class was shocked the other day that I'd never heard of Cabrini-Green...and I'm sure there are a thousand other things here that are common knowledge to the locals that I'm just not aware of. Back in Akron, most of my students grew up the same way I did. Some even went to my high school. It's just different...

And it's better. I don't know if it is because I have more experience or because the philosophy of the First Year Writing Program is worlds apart from at UA. My boss at UA, Bill Thelin, wrote a book called Writing Without Formulas, which I taught. Here, I teach a book called They Say/I Say, which is filled with formulas. At UA, I used a student-directed, "democratic" classroom style; students voted on paper topics, I never planned more than a week ahead, and while there was more room to adjust things as the semester progressed, there was never much driving the course from week to week. Here, I have to turn in a complete syllabus (with daily plans) before I'm allowed to teach a course. My classes are theme based and there are a number of projects I have to complete whether my students are interested or not. I admit, I rebelled a bit at first--doing things Bill Thelin's way made me feel like I was in charge of my own classroom--doing things Ann Feldman's way helps a lot when I don't know exactly what my way would be.

And so I've drank the water...and I'm going to be working in the comp office next fall. I'll be reviewing other folks' syllabi, answering student and instructor questions, and I'm not quite sure what else. I think it'll have something to do with color coding and Microsoft Access...they were pretty excited when I told them about my administrative background...but I don't have a ton of details yet. The downside is that it'll be longer than I hoped before I teach poetry. I've been peaking at the course listings and many, many of my first-year classmates are teaching non-comp classes: film and lit, intro to rhetoric, American lit and culture, intro to fiction writing, etc. My courses aren't listed yet, but folks who work in the comp office typically teach comp, so...I don't see Intro to Poetry Writing in my Fall 2009 teaching assignment. Sigh. This will be great experience--not to mention great on my CV--but I am conflicted about not getting into that poetry classroom as quickly as some of my friends are getting into their fiction classrooms.

Conflicted--that's how I feel a lot about my life at UIC. But let's not get into that right now.

Not fair

I'm in grading hell today. Not because I promised to give my students back their papers tomorrow and waited until today to start, but because it is 64 degrees outside and I'm stuck in here.

I haven't posted much about teaching this semester, which I'm just now realizing. It's a whole different animal here at UIC, but now's not the time. I still have 12 more papers to grade and my average time is way too high. (When I was an adjunct, I had it down to 6 min per. Today I'm running around 15 min.)

Looking forward to the weekend even though I will be glued to another stack of papers for most of it. Maybe I'll have time to walk to the lake or something city girls are supposed to do on lovely almost-spring weekends.

Hopeful

I know I've been quite the downer around blogland the last few months, but things may be turning around a bit. I know it's only week one, but Spring 09 is shaping up to be 1000 times better than Fall 08. Here's why:

1. Instead of taking Teaching College Writing, I'm teaching college writing. Teaching isn't my #1 calling, but I think I'm getting better, more comfortable, and because UIC requires the second semester of comp to be theme-based, I'm teaching a subject I like (instead of straight-up argumentation). The topic: work and class identity. Sound familiar?
2. I'm taking a class on politics and rhetoric (instead of politics and aesthetics like last semester) and while I still hate talking about politics, I think this class is going to be bearable because a) we're reading about political economy, which could, theoretically, have an impact on my poetry--or at least my exam lists, and b) the prof this semester is much more interested in TEACHING than the prof was last semester. He seems totally okay with the fact that I start to twitch when I hear names like Foucault and Derrida, and wants to know if it takes me too long to do the homework.
3. The Past Decade. This is my contemporary poetry class and there's zero overlap of anything I've read before, on my own or for another class. Shows how much poetry is getting published these days... But more importantly, the prof here focuses much more on poetic movements than I'm used to, and this is good because I don't know crap about them. Also, there are some 4th and 5th year PhD students auditing the class and they are so smart! I feel a little like I did when I was an 8th grader in high school marching band. The seniors were so grown up, so cool, and I just couldn't wait to be like them.
4. Although I would, much to my dismay, still rather be in Akron, I don't hate Chicago anymore. Although I would prefer to see my boyfriend and my family more than once a month or every six weeks, I have people here that I can count on now. And there's so much to do, instead of crying I can just distract myself with annotated bibliographies and color coding my files! Plus, in just a couple of weeks, practically everyone I know is coming to Chicago for AWP. It'll be like transplanting Akron.

I really, really hope I keep feeling good about this, because doubting major life decisions is no fun.

Spring Semester Eve

John is on a plane back to Cleveland, I've finished some proofing on Barn Owl Review #2 and there's nothing more I can put between myself and day one of Spring 09.

I don't have butterflies in my stomach...they're buzzards.

I'm not ready to teach tomorrow. I don't have a solid class plan, I don't have copies, and (more importantly) I don't know what I'm going to wear. I can't wear power heels because there's a foot of snow on the ground, and I don't think my ugly-ass hiking boots (the only water proof shoes I own) are going to inspire anyone. But seriously. The copies are my biggest worry. Do I go to staples and pay, or do I try to wake up early enough to get to school an hour or so before class starts so that I can get my copy code and do them for free? And why, oh why, do I have to do my own copies? At UA, you just fill out a little form and the student assistants do it for you. I like it a lot better that way. (Item #817 on the list of things I like better about UA.)

Okay, so I procrastinated. But does that really surprise you? I always wait until the last minute, and with John visiting for the last week, I wasn't about to spend all my time in University Hall putting the finishing touches on my syllabus and handouts. So I'm down to the wire. It'll get done and this time tomorrow I'll be one down, 44 to go.

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Since the beginning of my grad student career, I've been meaning to start an annotated bibliography. A prof suggested it once, and it seemed like something only the most anal retentive people would actually do, but now it seems almost essential to keeping everything straight. I haven't even started putting together my exam committee yet, but I'm fairly sure of the topics I'll choose (contemporary poetry, working class lit, etc., etc.), so it couldn't hurt. Anyway, the point is I am going to try to start my annotated bib this semester, and I'm going to use this blog to keep myself honest. So, starting Tuesday, I'll be posting a list of what I'm reading, with short summaries/reviews each week. You have my permission to poke, prod, and torment me if I miss any of the next 15 weeks.

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Well, I've officially procrastinated longer than I planned. Sigh. Back to the plans...

Where I'll be in less than 48 hours...

On Thursday, I'm going home and I'm so excited I can't concentrate. I am like a kid going to Disney Land for heaven's sake.

I have about 1,000,001 things to do, but none of them are getting done. Not reading Judith Butler, not working on my syllabus for comp 2, not writing/revising poems, not cleaning or packing...just playing around on Facebook and blogging. Really productive.

I don't know if it's because the trip home is finally in sight, or if I'm starting to settle in...but I haven't cried or freaked out in about a week. The thing is, I'm still not thrilled about what I'm doing here, but I'm trying to be more patient. I'm also giving myself permission to adjust my priorities a little bit...meaning that just because something is assigned to me, it isn't necessarily the most important thing in the world. If I don't dive face first into Heidegger and Derrida because I'm reading poetry, or if I slack on my comp syllabi because I'm working on one for intro to poetry, it's kind of okay.

What I'm most looking forward to, and what I've always been excited about in terms of getting a PhD, is studying for my prelims. I'm not actually looking forward to taking them, just to the year or so when all I have to do is lock myself in a library carroll and read. And, theoretically, everything on my reading list will be interesting to me, because I will be the one writing the list. So, in my new world-view, I'm just biding my time until I finish my course work and register for those reading hours.

Also on the happy side of things, I got my teaching assignment for spring today, and my classes are at 10 and 11, which means I don't have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn. Yippee!

Enough! I have to go try to accomplish something...

This is my pops. He's 70 today. 70! Happy Birthday, Dad. And thanks for the pep talk.

BTW, he is smiling.

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I'm at Dollop again, and I think this place really is going to save me. The guys working on my building apparently don't take Saturdays off.

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I had yet another freak-out last night. When is this going to end? When am I going to adapt?

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I'm about to write a syllabus for Intro to Poetry Writing. I will be stealing many, many an exercise from Mary B., mentor extraordinaire. Unfortunatley, I won't get to use this syllabus for at least 2 more semesters. Gotta put in my comp-teaching dues.

In the Light of Morning

Okay, so yesterday I was in a black hole, or I was the black hole, but today I'm feeling much better. Last night was exactly what I needed--a nap, home cooked dinner (mashed potatoes!), and some quiet time. Jen, I'm sorry I didn't make it over, but being alone for a while was essential to my fragile psyche.

Jeannine mentioned in my comments that it's good to hear a comp teacher talking about not liking her job (I'm paraphrasing here), so let me say a couple things on that. On the good days, when I can see the light of understanding turn on in my students' faces, I love it. That's why I think teaching a subject I love will be okay--or why I hope so--but let's face it: comp is not my forte. Sure, I am a nearly professional academic writer, and I've always enjoyed (in a sick sort of way) the process of writing term papers. Unfortunately, being able to do something doesn't always translate into being able to teach it. I haven't figured out yet how to explain my thought process in a way that's helpful, and I find formulas stifiling, so I often struggle with how to get what I want from my students--even how to get my students to understand what I want from them. Also, I was trained in a writing center, and I prefer (and think I'm better at) working one-on-one with students. In a tutor-tutee (heehee) situation, I can cater what I say to that student's needs, to that student's subject, etc. You can't do that with 25 at once.

I also struggle with a class that has no actual subject matter. My boss is a critical pedagogist (I've talked about this before, but don't feel like finding the entry to make a link) which basically means that the comp classroom is a place to talk about injustice and empowerment (this is admittedly a vast oversimplification) and those are two things I really would prefer not to talk about. I try to direct the discussion and the reading to things that are less volatile--relationships, college as life experience, identity, learning, etc.--rather than the popular topics of politics and controversy, patriarchy and racism, etc., etc. I'm not allowed to have my students write literary analysis, so there's really no point in having them read what I would enjoy reading and discussing...so I try to make it work with the essays we have in the text book. But I'm not engaged, and they can tell.

The last--and probably biggest--issue with teaching comp is that the students don't care. Comp (to the best of my knowledge) is the only class everyone takes, regardless of major. Sure, there are history requirements, and math, science, etc., but I think most of those requirements have a couple of different options. But everyone takes comp, and 95% of them hate it. They think it's stupid, a waste of time, remedial, etc., and it is really, really hard to convince them otherwise. In my largest class-25-I typically have anywhere from 9 to 15 people present on any given day. That wouldn't be so bad if it was the same group every day, but the class is often completely different on Tuesday than it was on Monday. So, I repeat myself constantly. I make a plan that requires some sort of homework but the people who got the assignment don't show up and the ones that do are unprepared. I've given up on making them prepare for class ahead of time--I just let them read or free-write or whatever in class because otherwise I just get frustrated that no one has done what I asked.

And then they sit and stare. Or text. Or whisper to each other. Or sleep. All things I did as a student, so I can't be too mad, but jeez, it's hard to ignore. Allow me to take this time to apologize to all the profs I've disrespected in my life--I understand now! At any rate, even if I'm having a good day, if I'm convinced that my class plan is brilliant, when I come into class to find three of them sleeping, 8 of them with cell phones in their hands, and two of them whispering in the corner, I want to run from the room crying.

There is a silver lining, though. I have one class this semester that totally energizes me. It's a small class, 14 students, and the attendence is pretty good. They talk to me, they ask me questions, they do their homework. If every class was like this one, I would love my job. But very few classes are like this one and most days, it's not good enough to erase the stress of trying to entertain and teach at the same time.

One of the things I'm most looking forward to if / when I go to UIC is that I won't be teaching in the fall; instead, I'll be taking a course called Teaching College Writing that will allow (force) me to make a new syllabus and 15 weeks worth of plans for both comp 1 and comp 2. I wish I would have had this class already. I mean, we had Practicum at Akron, but it ran in tandem with my first semester of teaching, and another thing my boss is fond of is planning a class one day at a time--allowing what happens in the classroom to dictate what I bring to the table. For someone like me who has trouble with uncertainty and likes to plan everything (even what time I'll take a shower and what I'll eat for lunch), trying to run a class day by day is agonizing. Yet I've never had the time/discipline to plan ahead. So, English 555 at UIC, here I come. Maybe after that I'll feel better.

I think most of us who want to be teachers are very idealistic. We want to share our love of something with others, we want to make people understand why what we do is valuable. But no one tells us how hard it will be to do that. I've had a couple of students say things like, "Wow, your job is so easy," and I just want to strangle them. Are you serious? I think about teaching about 22 hours a day. I dream about it. I start teaching at 9:55 in the morning and I'm usually still grading or reading or planning something when I go to bed at 11. I spend my weekends catching up. And I'm never caught up. Part-time instructor my ass. Granted, I take breaks on those 13 hour days to make dinner, talk to my friends, get coffee, etc., but still, I'm usually talking about work. Every other job I've had got put away after 5, or at the end of a shift, but not this one. Nope, I'm a teacher 24 hours a day. And that's hard, because what I really want to be is a poet.

Don't worry--I'm still writing. Just not with the veracity I was before. I've written about 6-8 new poems this semester, and that's not bad (about 2 per month), but it's not great either. And for the first time in 3 years, I'm not reading 2-3 books a week. I'm lucky if I read 2-3 a month. I miss it so much, miss being a student, being able to say "I'm a TA, everyone understands that teaching isn't my first priority." That's why I'm looking forward to starting a new program. Someone, please force me to read and write every day!