Li'l E is asleep (although we'll see whether she sleeps for more than half an hour). I'm sitting down with a cup of tea (this week, it's David's Teas' Salted Caramel, because I'm apparently in the mood for tea that tastes like candy). I'm finally starting learn how to carve out little moments in my day.
For a while, it seemed impossible to get anything done or to take any time for myself. At first, Li'l E and I had the double whammy of my slow recovery and her constant feeding (undersized baby more than doubles her weight in the first three months: oy). I also had a serious case of the New Moms, where I didn't know how to get anything done while she was awake, since she wanted to be cuddled constantly. But now she's growing up a little (and so am I), and I've been working on getting her to be more independent. Now, I can at least get housework done while she's awake, and she's just pleased that I talk to her while I work.
The next hurdle is getting back into the dissertation process. I really don't know how to work while she's awake: she's so demanding, and wants my attention constantly. I'd be too distracted to form many coherent thoughts. (I guess I could do mindless tasks and some editing while she was awake, but writing is another story.) I need a lot of sleep right now in order to continue to function, and so working after she goes to bed is out of the question. I imagine that nap time will become my ideal writing time, once I get on a roll. Li'l E takes several small naps a day, and during her morning naps I've already formed the habit of approaching them with the attitude of "I MUST WORK AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE."
Really, the problem is that I'm so tired and distracted. Perhaps reintroducing my SAD lamp into my morning routine would alleviate some of the tiredness, but I'm also tired because I'm physically catching up with the requirements of my new life. I don't know how to deal with the distractedness part. Right now, I'm trying to deal with it by taking a little time to be quiet. A cup of tea and a little bit of silence. I grew so accustomed to having endless quiet time at home over these years, and now that I have a small and loud constant companion, I find that I need to deliberately carve out quiet time for myself. I never before realised how much my mental health depends on time spent being alone and quiet.
So. Where do I go from here? I finish my project of organizing the house, so that I have space to work. (We really didn't get off to a good start here, with my inability to take part in the unpacking process. We've been in survival mode until now.) I get started writing while family is around to deal with the baby, and then create tasks that can be done during naps. I continue to allow myself a little quiet time.
And now the baby's awake, and I'm typing with one hand. That second cup of tea will have to wait.
Update: I just got a message from my grad secretary, saying that she's confident that I qualify for medical leave (backdated to the beginning of this school year), even though the terms of my extension stated that I could not apply for leave. Apparently my case is exceptional!
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
When pregnancy is weird
So, it all started at my 10-week checkup.
Well, I guess it started a few weeks before that, when we started having to tell people around us about the pregnancy earlier than people usually do, because I was showing so much that it was impossible for people not to figure it out. And then they'd give me the side eye and say "You're sure you're only that far along?" That was about the point when my pants were also not really fitting anymore, and I started having pain that was best described by my pregnancy book as round ligament pain (but that stuff's only supposed to happen when you're in your second trimester). Some days it felt like I could almost watch my belly grow. Which I knew was weird, but I also kind of ignored it.
And then I went for my 10-week checkup, with the GP who did my initial pregnancy test at the university's health services. Our original plan was for me to stay with health services until we moved, at which point I'd be handed over to an OB/GYN. But, at the checkup, the doctor freaked out, and was convinced that I was at least 20 weeks along, or that I was having twins and was about 14 weeks along. Either way, the doctor was beginning to make me feel like those ladies on that TLC show. The doctor kept using the doppler on me, to try to find the baby's heartbeat (because it ought to be easy to find at 20 weeks), but couldn't find anything. But the long time of using the doppler hurt my belly.
And this all is how I got rushed in for an ultrasound, and how I got a "maternal health specialist" instead of a health services doctor.
(Oh, and all of this happened while Chris was out of town, chaperoning his school's graduating class.)
So, a few days (and many medical appointments) later, Chris and I went for my ultrasound (and what really did feel like a moment of truth). We nervously chatted about the possibility of twins, as we sat in the waiting room.
When the ultrasound began, the tech began asking me weird questions about whether I'd ever had an ultrasound before, and started looking at my kidneys as well. He then said that I had one baby, with a healthy heart rate, who was 10 weeks along. I may have cheered and said "Take that, Dr. [Health Services Doctor]!" in response. And then I thought to ask why I was so big and had all these weird symptoms. And he showed me the image, saying, "So, up here on top is your baby. And allllll this below it? They're called fibroids, and they're a significant size. Have you been uncomfortable lately?"
Okay, first weird part: I already knew all about fibroids, because a good friend had a big one when she was pregnant. But she also had all the symptoms before that, and so I knew all the symptoms and didn't have any. And I may have recently said to her, "Well, at least I know that my pregnancy will be easier than yours, because I've never had fibroids." FAMOUS LAST WORDS, PEOPLE.
And that's set the tone for the last few months: extra specialist appointments, where I'm reassured that there is very little risk for the baby, but that I'll have a lot of pain (mostly ligament pain, but also pinched nerves, and pain associated with my various squashed innards). The main "complication" is that it's likely/almost guaranteed (and veering towards "it'll take a miracle to avoid") that I'll need a C-Section. I've had a number of health professionals say that they've never seen a case this extreme before, my GP tell me that I'm too complicated for her to handle until after the baby's born, and my chiropractor tell me that I'm almost too complicated for him. I can only walk short distances, and can only stand for a few minutes at a time, and lately I've only been able to sleep in a recliner. Also, I recently had someone ask me if my due date has arrived yet (I'm only half-way there, people!). Also? Apparently there's an intermediate stage of maternity pants, where you have extra elastics and no belly band. I wish I'd known of its existence when I was at 8 weeks, because I've skipped straight to third trimester pants (okay, and muumuus around the house).
Mostly, though? It's made life funny and weird. Chris and I make jokes about the fibroids being our baby's weird, angry companions (or couches, waterbeds, soccer balls to kick...). I've become That Woman Who Always Talks About Bodily Functions, because fibroids interfere with them and make them weird. Because the baby's up by my ribs now, and pushed far forward, I got to feel the kicks early (especially when he/she kicks me right in the ribs!). Actually, because the kid has holed up right under (and sometimes in) my left rib cage, it's always tricky finding the heartbeat, because it's so close to my own heart that my own heartbeat drowns everything out.
Oh, and if you look closely, I never have so much "cute pregnant belly" as "why does that pregnant lady have extra lumps on the bottom of her belly?" or sometimes "Is it possible that she's only pregnant on the left half of her body? And now is it visibly shifting?"
Oh, and my bellybutton is already and outie, and I forced far too many people to look at my bellybutton as it progressed from innie to outie. Because I'm a giver.
So, that brings you up to date with my life: trying to stay comfortable, trying to sleep, trying not to overshare all of my medical detail to EVERY stranger, trying to write a dissertation chapter, and trying to shift my focus away from the painful lumps and toward the child that's going to be part of our lives sometime around Christmas.
For a while, I was a little bitter that I didn't get to have a "normal" pregnancy. Now I'm finding the hilarity in being weird.
Well, I guess it started a few weeks before that, when we started having to tell people around us about the pregnancy earlier than people usually do, because I was showing so much that it was impossible for people not to figure it out. And then they'd give me the side eye and say "You're sure you're only that far along?" That was about the point when my pants were also not really fitting anymore, and I started having pain that was best described by my pregnancy book as round ligament pain (but that stuff's only supposed to happen when you're in your second trimester). Some days it felt like I could almost watch my belly grow. Which I knew was weird, but I also kind of ignored it.
And then I went for my 10-week checkup, with the GP who did my initial pregnancy test at the university's health services. Our original plan was for me to stay with health services until we moved, at which point I'd be handed over to an OB/GYN. But, at the checkup, the doctor freaked out, and was convinced that I was at least 20 weeks along, or that I was having twins and was about 14 weeks along. Either way, the doctor was beginning to make me feel like those ladies on that TLC show. The doctor kept using the doppler on me, to try to find the baby's heartbeat (because it ought to be easy to find at 20 weeks), but couldn't find anything. But the long time of using the doppler hurt my belly.
And this all is how I got rushed in for an ultrasound, and how I got a "maternal health specialist" instead of a health services doctor.
(Oh, and all of this happened while Chris was out of town, chaperoning his school's graduating class.)
So, a few days (and many medical appointments) later, Chris and I went for my ultrasound (and what really did feel like a moment of truth). We nervously chatted about the possibility of twins, as we sat in the waiting room.
When the ultrasound began, the tech began asking me weird questions about whether I'd ever had an ultrasound before, and started looking at my kidneys as well. He then said that I had one baby, with a healthy heart rate, who was 10 weeks along. I may have cheered and said "Take that, Dr. [Health Services Doctor]!" in response. And then I thought to ask why I was so big and had all these weird symptoms. And he showed me the image, saying, "So, up here on top is your baby. And allllll this below it? They're called fibroids, and they're a significant size. Have you been uncomfortable lately?"
Okay, first weird part: I already knew all about fibroids, because a good friend had a big one when she was pregnant. But she also had all the symptoms before that, and so I knew all the symptoms and didn't have any. And I may have recently said to her, "Well, at least I know that my pregnancy will be easier than yours, because I've never had fibroids." FAMOUS LAST WORDS, PEOPLE.
And that's set the tone for the last few months: extra specialist appointments, where I'm reassured that there is very little risk for the baby, but that I'll have a lot of pain (mostly ligament pain, but also pinched nerves, and pain associated with my various squashed innards). The main "complication" is that it's likely/almost guaranteed (and veering towards "it'll take a miracle to avoid") that I'll need a C-Section. I've had a number of health professionals say that they've never seen a case this extreme before, my GP tell me that I'm too complicated for her to handle until after the baby's born, and my chiropractor tell me that I'm almost too complicated for him. I can only walk short distances, and can only stand for a few minutes at a time, and lately I've only been able to sleep in a recliner. Also, I recently had someone ask me if my due date has arrived yet (I'm only half-way there, people!). Also? Apparently there's an intermediate stage of maternity pants, where you have extra elastics and no belly band. I wish I'd known of its existence when I was at 8 weeks, because I've skipped straight to third trimester pants (okay, and muumuus around the house).
Mostly, though? It's made life funny and weird. Chris and I make jokes about the fibroids being our baby's weird, angry companions (or couches, waterbeds, soccer balls to kick...). I've become That Woman Who Always Talks About Bodily Functions, because fibroids interfere with them and make them weird. Because the baby's up by my ribs now, and pushed far forward, I got to feel the kicks early (especially when he/she kicks me right in the ribs!). Actually, because the kid has holed up right under (and sometimes in) my left rib cage, it's always tricky finding the heartbeat, because it's so close to my own heart that my own heartbeat drowns everything out.
Oh, and if you look closely, I never have so much "cute pregnant belly" as "why does that pregnant lady have extra lumps on the bottom of her belly?" or sometimes "Is it possible that she's only pregnant on the left half of her body? And now is it visibly shifting?"
Oh, and my bellybutton is already and outie, and I forced far too many people to look at my bellybutton as it progressed from innie to outie. Because I'm a giver.
So, that brings you up to date with my life: trying to stay comfortable, trying to sleep, trying not to overshare all of my medical detail to EVERY stranger, trying to write a dissertation chapter, and trying to shift my focus away from the painful lumps and toward the child that's going to be part of our lives sometime around Christmas.
For a while, I was a little bitter that I didn't get to have a "normal" pregnancy. Now I'm finding the hilarity in being weird.
Friday, July 06, 2012
Christopher's Very Good Day
Chris has had some moderate ups and downs lately. UP! He's moving back home to the prairies! DOWN! It's very sad to move away from school and church community. UP! Baby on the way! DOWN! His wife is pretty much useless because she's been so sick!
But lately it's been more UP! than DOWN! for that cheerful husband of mine.
Especially today. Yesterday was pretty hectic: he was determined to have his classroom entirely packed up, and the entire lab inventoried (because he's amazing and wanted to leave everything so that the new science teacher has an easy time taking over everything) by the end of the day. We also needed to finalize all the details about our future home immediately (our potential new landlord hadn't called our references and approved us yet, while my old apartment complex called and said that there were a few suites available at the end of the month, since we'd put ourselves on a waiting list there weeks ago). We were running around all stressed. Chris had to spend a long day at the school, and what if he had to go back for another day? Do we turn down the apartment complex, presuming that we've actually secured the house?
But, by the end of yesterday, everything was done. Chris handed in his keys to the school. I got on the phone and made sure that our house was secured. And, when Chris got home, our next door neighbour asked Chris if he wanted to spend the next morning helping to fix up his boat. Chris loves that boat: it's a wooden houseboat, built in the 1930s. He loves that boat, and he loves our semi-retired next-door neighbour, and Chris is always scheming about ways to get in and help Peter work on the boat. I think at one point he was hoping that, if he helped enough with the boat, he'd get to go out on the water in it when it was seaworthy, but now just the work itself makes him ridiculously happy. Any time Peter asks him if he has a minute to help, Chris's response is along the lines of "Aw, gee Mister, really?"
And so this morning Chris woke up, free from all school responsibilities (he can't really deal with next year until we get to Regina), spent an hour fixing up an old houseboat. And the telescope that he ordered (using gift certificates from the school and as a thank you present from the new science teacher) might arrive today.
And, more officially now that we went over the terms of the lease this morning, we also have a house (minus basement suite) complete with a fire pit and vegetable garden in back, right near the park and the lake (and pretty close to both Chris's school and the university). It's not yet noon, and he's also gone and puttered around the mall, checking out construction progress (his favourite), and getting all squishy about clearance baby items.
Of course, it's not yet noon, but he's already filed today away as "Christopher's Very Good Day."
But lately it's been more UP! than DOWN! for that cheerful husband of mine.
Especially today. Yesterday was pretty hectic: he was determined to have his classroom entirely packed up, and the entire lab inventoried (because he's amazing and wanted to leave everything so that the new science teacher has an easy time taking over everything) by the end of the day. We also needed to finalize all the details about our future home immediately (our potential new landlord hadn't called our references and approved us yet, while my old apartment complex called and said that there were a few suites available at the end of the month, since we'd put ourselves on a waiting list there weeks ago). We were running around all stressed. Chris had to spend a long day at the school, and what if he had to go back for another day? Do we turn down the apartment complex, presuming that we've actually secured the house?
But, by the end of yesterday, everything was done. Chris handed in his keys to the school. I got on the phone and made sure that our house was secured. And, when Chris got home, our next door neighbour asked Chris if he wanted to spend the next morning helping to fix up his boat. Chris loves that boat: it's a wooden houseboat, built in the 1930s. He loves that boat, and he loves our semi-retired next-door neighbour, and Chris is always scheming about ways to get in and help Peter work on the boat. I think at one point he was hoping that, if he helped enough with the boat, he'd get to go out on the water in it when it was seaworthy, but now just the work itself makes him ridiculously happy. Any time Peter asks him if he has a minute to help, Chris's response is along the lines of "Aw, gee Mister, really?"
And so this morning Chris woke up, free from all school responsibilities (he can't really deal with next year until we get to Regina), spent an hour fixing up an old houseboat. And the telescope that he ordered (using gift certificates from the school and as a thank you present from the new science teacher) might arrive today.
And, more officially now that we went over the terms of the lease this morning, we also have a house (minus basement suite) complete with a fire pit and vegetable garden in back, right near the park and the lake (and pretty close to both Chris's school and the university). It's not yet noon, and he's also gone and puttered around the mall, checking out construction progress (his favourite), and getting all squishy about clearance baby items.
Of course, it's not yet noon, but he's already filed today away as "Christopher's Very Good Day."
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
I'll admit I've been keeping my cards close to my chest lately
Well, I didn't intend to disappear for such a long time! At first, right after I wrote that last post, I got very sick (as part of a series of stress-related illnesses), and stayed sick until the New Year. (Also, I got to try all kinds of powerful antibiotics, and may have experienced some rheumatic fever! Fun times at Christmas.) (As another aside, I am your perfect sick party guest: hobbling around, whining about "my rheumatiz." You guys missed a magical time.)
After I got home from that second trip home, my life was divided between the Bloggable But Stressful (Get the crazy chapter under control and come up with a workable plan for finishing soon!) and the Very Unbloggable Thanks To IRL People Reading This Blog (Let's apply for work closer to home! What if we start a family now?). Some days, it felt like every decision we were facing were some of the biggest decisions we'd ever made in our lives. And somehow they seemed so much scarier than the Big Decisions we made before (or maybe we were younger and more flippant than we are now.) Get married? Sounds like a wonderful plan! Move across the country for grad school? Hey, why not? Sounds fun. (Oh, to be 24 years old again.)
But now, we've made some decisions, finalized plans, and have even announced them on Facebook (you know, after I told people in person first, because I'm not a monster). We're moving home, and I'm pregnant!
Dear goodness, those words are simultaneously exciting and terrifying.
I seriously can't believe this is all happening. And I know that "I'm pregnant and we're moving home to the prairies" sounds like the beginning of a novel about giving up on your dreams, but both of these really feel like the fulfillment of life-long dreams for us. We got Chris a good job in our hometown, in the same city as our entire families. And, barring something major happening, we're staying there. I'm insanely determined to get this dissertation finished, and then I'll figure out what I'm doing. It's been years since I realised that I wasn't cut out for the tenure-track life, but I'll carve my own path. I love working with students, and I'd love to do something university- or research-adjacent. There will be something for me (and it's not urgent for me to find it: the top priority is finishing the dissertation and having this baby; Chris will be making enough to support us until I find something).
There's this part of me that fears some people will think I'm crazy for having a baby right now (well, at the end of December), or that I'm somehow wasting all this education by not aggressively pursuing a tenure-track position. Or that I'm crazy for having a baby at a point when I don't qualify for EI maternity pay. (But do you know how long it would be until I would qualify? And seriously: we'll be financially fine.)
Okay. Enough (heading-towards-an-outie) navel-gazing. I'll save the crazy medical details (How I've Spent The Past Month In Doctor's Waiting Rooms, and Why I Keep Baffling Medical Professionals*) for another post.
In honour of the move back to the homeland, let's finish off with an old school Question Time!
Time? 1:39pm
Surroundings? I'm in my office, surrounded by dirty dishes, kleenex boxes, and scraps of printed off translation material. (By the way, I have a cold, and the inability to take cold medicine: pure torture.)
Tea? Murchies Library Tea. (Why no, I haven't completely cut out caffeine. Why yes, I do know about the risks, but I also have read a terrifying number of medical journal articles and stay well under the safe limit.)
Wearing? Pyjamas, rubber-soled slippers, TARDIS bathrobe, hair that is standing straight on end. (It might be time to bathe soon.) (Uh, you guys, I just found out how much my sister spent on my new bathrobe...)
Stuck in my head? "A Hundred and One Pounds of Fun" from South Pacific. Because I forced Chris to watched the movie with me this weekend, and this is what I get in return. Mitzi Gaynor's voice in my head for the rest of my life.
What am I most thankful for? My Christopher. He's been phenomenal lately, doing all the cooking and cleaning (in addition to dealing with the madness of the end of the school year), since I've been so sick, sore and tired for the past couple of months. He's a good'un.
* Working title.
After I got home from that second trip home, my life was divided between the Bloggable But Stressful (Get the crazy chapter under control and come up with a workable plan for finishing soon!) and the Very Unbloggable Thanks To IRL People Reading This Blog (Let's apply for work closer to home! What if we start a family now?). Some days, it felt like every decision we were facing were some of the biggest decisions we'd ever made in our lives. And somehow they seemed so much scarier than the Big Decisions we made before (or maybe we were younger and more flippant than we are now.) Get married? Sounds like a wonderful plan! Move across the country for grad school? Hey, why not? Sounds fun. (Oh, to be 24 years old again.)
But now, we've made some decisions, finalized plans, and have even announced them on Facebook (you know, after I told people in person first, because I'm not a monster). We're moving home, and I'm pregnant!
Dear goodness, those words are simultaneously exciting and terrifying.
I seriously can't believe this is all happening. And I know that "I'm pregnant and we're moving home to the prairies" sounds like the beginning of a novel about giving up on your dreams, but both of these really feel like the fulfillment of life-long dreams for us. We got Chris a good job in our hometown, in the same city as our entire families. And, barring something major happening, we're staying there. I'm insanely determined to get this dissertation finished, and then I'll figure out what I'm doing. It's been years since I realised that I wasn't cut out for the tenure-track life, but I'll carve my own path. I love working with students, and I'd love to do something university- or research-adjacent. There will be something for me (and it's not urgent for me to find it: the top priority is finishing the dissertation and having this baby; Chris will be making enough to support us until I find something).
There's this part of me that fears some people will think I'm crazy for having a baby right now (well, at the end of December), or that I'm somehow wasting all this education by not aggressively pursuing a tenure-track position. Or that I'm crazy for having a baby at a point when I don't qualify for EI maternity pay. (But do you know how long it would be until I would qualify? And seriously: we'll be financially fine.)
Okay. Enough (heading-towards-an-outie) navel-gazing. I'll save the crazy medical details (How I've Spent The Past Month In Doctor's Waiting Rooms, and Why I Keep Baffling Medical Professionals*) for another post.
In honour of the move back to the homeland, let's finish off with an old school Question Time!
Time? 1:39pm
Surroundings? I'm in my office, surrounded by dirty dishes, kleenex boxes, and scraps of printed off translation material. (By the way, I have a cold, and the inability to take cold medicine: pure torture.)
Tea? Murchies Library Tea. (Why no, I haven't completely cut out caffeine. Why yes, I do know about the risks, but I also have read a terrifying number of medical journal articles and stay well under the safe limit.)
Wearing? Pyjamas, rubber-soled slippers, TARDIS bathrobe, hair that is standing straight on end. (It might be time to bathe soon.) (Uh, you guys, I just found out how much my sister spent on my new bathrobe...)
Stuck in my head? "A Hundred and One Pounds of Fun" from South Pacific. Because I forced Chris to watched the movie with me this weekend, and this is what I get in return. Mitzi Gaynor's voice in my head for the rest of my life.
What am I most thankful for? My Christopher. He's been phenomenal lately, doing all the cooking and cleaning (in addition to dealing with the madness of the end of the school year), since I've been so sick, sore and tired for the past couple of months. He's a good'un.
* Working title.
Friday, December 09, 2011
And then somehow I turned thirty-one
I got back to Victoria on Monday, after a week and a half that I can only describe as being bittersweet, after a week and a half during which time I constantly told people that I needed to "play things by ear." (Read: "I have decided not to make plans in advance, other than with my brother.") It's impossible to describe such a trip as being "good," when you consider the circumstances, but I was glad to be home, glad to be with my family, and glad to have the family that I have.
I spent a week sleeping in my childhood bedroom, which gave the week an extra surreal quality: I was sleeping there on my own (Chris having flown back after the weekend), in my room of twenty-three years. In that room, there were small remnants of my years there: the colour of the walls, one picture, one shelf, snowflake stickers on the window. However, everything else in the room was from my Grandmother's years there, and more so from my sister's current occupation of the room. It's like when the five of us (my parents, my two siblings and I) sat together in my parents' living room: it was familiar, and I could not escape all the evidence of what all has changed (and the reason why we were all together).
Now I'm back in Victoria, trying to adjust back to my routine here, but also very aware of the fact that we fly back to Regina in a week, with all of my missed work looming over me. And, in the midst of all of this, my birthday was yesterday. I'm thirty-one now; I feel like I just got used to being thirty. I really liked being thirty. "Thirty-one" sounds strange to me. And I usually make a big deal about my birthday; I invest a lot of emotion and expectations into the day. This year, I could only handle small things. Before I left Regina, I invited a couple friends and all their wee daughters over to my parents' house, to share ice cream cake with me. (Having four kids -- all of whom call me "Auntie" -- blow out my candles was fun.) Yesterday, I met two friends downtown in the afternoon; we had tea and went Christmas shopping at my favourite little stores. My all-time favourite storekeeper hugged me five times and gave me a birthday present. Then, my cousin Ky and I bussed to a restaurant, where we met Chris and a couple more friends for supper.
Hm. Now that I wrote that out, it sounds like I still made a big deal about my birthday. It was all thrown together at the last minute ("The only day that's available for shopping is Thursday. Oh, that's Maryanne's birthday? Let's go for tea!" "You know, your birthday is on Thursday. Shouldn't we at least go out for supper?") but I loved it more that way. I've done the big-party thing, and that was a nice thing for other years.
So, yeah. Thirty-one. Thiiiiiirty-one. Not too bad. And it gave me an excuse to have a nice, relaxing day with friends.
I spent a week sleeping in my childhood bedroom, which gave the week an extra surreal quality: I was sleeping there on my own (Chris having flown back after the weekend), in my room of twenty-three years. In that room, there were small remnants of my years there: the colour of the walls, one picture, one shelf, snowflake stickers on the window. However, everything else in the room was from my Grandmother's years there, and more so from my sister's current occupation of the room. It's like when the five of us (my parents, my two siblings and I) sat together in my parents' living room: it was familiar, and I could not escape all the evidence of what all has changed (and the reason why we were all together).
Now I'm back in Victoria, trying to adjust back to my routine here, but also very aware of the fact that we fly back to Regina in a week, with all of my missed work looming over me. And, in the midst of all of this, my birthday was yesterday. I'm thirty-one now; I feel like I just got used to being thirty. I really liked being thirty. "Thirty-one" sounds strange to me. And I usually make a big deal about my birthday; I invest a lot of emotion and expectations into the day. This year, I could only handle small things. Before I left Regina, I invited a couple friends and all their wee daughters over to my parents' house, to share ice cream cake with me. (Having four kids -- all of whom call me "Auntie" -- blow out my candles was fun.) Yesterday, I met two friends downtown in the afternoon; we had tea and went Christmas shopping at my favourite little stores. My all-time favourite storekeeper hugged me five times and gave me a birthday present. Then, my cousin Ky and I bussed to a restaurant, where we met Chris and a couple more friends for supper.
Hm. Now that I wrote that out, it sounds like I still made a big deal about my birthday. It was all thrown together at the last minute ("The only day that's available for shopping is Thursday. Oh, that's Maryanne's birthday? Let's go for tea!" "You know, your birthday is on Thursday. Shouldn't we at least go out for supper?") but I loved it more that way. I've done the big-party thing, and that was a nice thing for other years.
So, yeah. Thirty-one. Thiiiiiirty-one. Not too bad. And it gave me an excuse to have a nice, relaxing day with friends.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Unexpectely Homeward Bound
Chris and I are packing up, and tomorrow morning we're flying to Saskatchewan for an unplanned trip home. Normally, I'd be thrilled about the fact that I'm getting a week and a half back home, in addition to the two weeks we'll have at Christmas. But this is a trip that none of us wanted us to have to take: we're heading home for the funeral of my little brother's beautiful, funny, wonderful wife.
This is pretty closely connected to why there's been silence at this here blog lately. Well, for the first while I was just wrapped up in research and writing, in restructuring some dissertation plans and all that. But then we found out that my sister-in-law was sick, and out of respect to the more private members of my families, I kept all that off the blog. But it was all I could really think about, and so it was easier just to maintain radio silence here.
And then suddenly she was gone, and we hardly had any time to prepare ourselves for the idea. But tomorrow, I get on an airplane, and for a week and a half I'll be able to make myself useful to my family. I'm still trying to prepare myself emotionally for being home, and for how much more real this is going to become for me. But it'll be better for me to be able to help, instead of wandering around aimlessly here, bursting into tears while holding the soup bowls she gave me for Christmas a few years ago.
So, we'll see whether I keep up any blogging while I'm home. But I thought, in the spirit of the holiday that our American friends are celebrating today, that I'd mention a few reasons why I'm thankful today. I'm thankful for my amazing friends, who have been overwhelming me with their love and very concrete support over the past few days. I'm thankful for airplanes, unlimited phone plans, and computers that make the distance between here and home seem to be not as great. I'm thankful that I have a Christopher who takes care of me every day, and has even managed to make me laugh a few times this week. I'm thankful for my amazing family. And I thankful that one beautiful girl came into our lives and changed us, even though she left us decades too soon.
This is pretty closely connected to why there's been silence at this here blog lately. Well, for the first while I was just wrapped up in research and writing, in restructuring some dissertation plans and all that. But then we found out that my sister-in-law was sick, and out of respect to the more private members of my families, I kept all that off the blog. But it was all I could really think about, and so it was easier just to maintain radio silence here.
And then suddenly she was gone, and we hardly had any time to prepare ourselves for the idea. But tomorrow, I get on an airplane, and for a week and a half I'll be able to make myself useful to my family. I'm still trying to prepare myself emotionally for being home, and for how much more real this is going to become for me. But it'll be better for me to be able to help, instead of wandering around aimlessly here, bursting into tears while holding the soup bowls she gave me for Christmas a few years ago.
So, we'll see whether I keep up any blogging while I'm home. But I thought, in the spirit of the holiday that our American friends are celebrating today, that I'd mention a few reasons why I'm thankful today. I'm thankful for my amazing friends, who have been overwhelming me with their love and very concrete support over the past few days. I'm thankful for airplanes, unlimited phone plans, and computers that make the distance between here and home seem to be not as great. I'm thankful that I have a Christopher who takes care of me every day, and has even managed to make me laugh a few times this week. I'm thankful for my amazing family. And I thankful that one beautiful girl came into our lives and changed us, even though she left us decades too soon.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A little inspiration
Today, my block had a big yard sale (a yearly event organized by our Block Watch Association, intended to help us get to know our neighbours), and in our classic style, Chris and I made a profit of -$3.75. Our landlady, Joyce, already knew this was going to happen. When we got outside this morning, she shouted across the yard, "I'll keep an eye on Chris! He always spends more than he makes at these things. Then you just have more junk to sell next year."
He was behaving himself remarkably well this year (meanwhile, I was trying to unload whatever I could at 25 or 50 cents apiece). While I was getting to pack up the rest of our stuff and get it ready to haul to the thrift store, Chris came over and said, "I need to consult with you about something I found. It only costs $5, but it's big." I may have rolled my eyes a little, because you have no idea how many pieces of archaic technology and how many semi-broken telescopes he has brought into our home. I should have noticed how proud of himself he looked.
Our next-door neighbour had offered him their 1926 electric Singer cabinet sewing machine for $5. (Which works!) Both of our moms have Singer cabinet sewing machines, although both of theirs are treadle-style. It's surprising how many women in my family have Singer sewing machines as side tables. It feels like home, having one in my home. It even smells like home.
It turns out that the only place in our apartment where it fits is next to my (new!) desk. I'm leaving it open for now, because what better inspiration for writing about working women in the late 1920s than this view:
He was behaving himself remarkably well this year (meanwhile, I was trying to unload whatever I could at 25 or 50 cents apiece). While I was getting to pack up the rest of our stuff and get it ready to haul to the thrift store, Chris came over and said, "I need to consult with you about something I found. It only costs $5, but it's big." I may have rolled my eyes a little, because you have no idea how many pieces of archaic technology and how many semi-broken telescopes he has brought into our home. I should have noticed how proud of himself he looked.
Our next-door neighbour had offered him their 1926 electric Singer cabinet sewing machine for $5. (Which works!) Both of our moms have Singer cabinet sewing machines, although both of theirs are treadle-style. It's surprising how many women in my family have Singer sewing machines as side tables. It feels like home, having one in my home. It even smells like home.
It turns out that the only place in our apartment where it fits is next to my (new!) desk. I'm leaving it open for now, because what better inspiration for writing about working women in the late 1920s than this view:
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
I'm seriously thirty
This was a text message exchange between Ky and me this morning:
Ky: "I keep singing inner city pressure, but saying dragons instead of pressure."
Me: "If I could draw, I'd draw a cartoon of Inner-City Dragons for you."
Ky: "Try"
Me (seriously two hours later): "As soon as I get the scanner driver installed, I'll email you some Inner-City Dragons. They'll amaze your face off."
I'm thirty.
Ky: "I keep singing inner city pressure, but saying dragons instead of pressure."
Me: "If I could draw, I'd draw a cartoon of Inner-City Dragons for you."
Ky: "Try"
Me (seriously two hours later): "As soon as I get the scanner driver installed, I'll email you some Inner-City Dragons. They'll amaze your face off."
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
My first course evaluations
I stopped by the department office and got my course evaluations (from the course I taught in June), and it's pretty much what I expected: mostly positive, with some constructive criticism and a couple (but only a couple) of very negative reviews. In the comments section, most of the criticism will be easily rectified by making each day's lecture's organization more explicit (pretty much all I'll actually change is that I'll make a single slide that shows the roadmap for where we're going that day), and also by faking confidence. I learned how to handle questions that I didn't know by the end of the course, by when you're only teaching for three weeks, they remember the moments where you looked like a deer in headlights a little too well.
The percentage breakdown of the survey they filled out shows that the majority of my students rated me favorably, which is encouraging. My highest scores were regarding my availability to help and provide feedback, and the respect that I gave to students and their ideas. And by "highest" I mean "the majority of students rated me as 'excellent' on both counts, and the one student who was mad at me even conceded that I was 'adequate.'" I'm really happy about both of those, because I worked really hard on being available to help, and on creating a respectful space within the classroom, and it's gratifying that they noticed. With everything else, it was in the middling-to-good range, which I know is an okay place to start. (The lowest ranking was regarding my clarity in explaining things, and that will be rectified by making small tweaks that I've been learning. Hooray for teaching workshops!)
I had a small handful of really negative comments, but they're all a mixed bag. Like, one student thinks that I don't make any sense in my lecturing, and another one thinks that the grading system was harsh but my lectures were "very effective [and] well put together." I had one absolutely negative comment (likely the same student who gave me consistently low rankings, and likely the same student who was glaring at me on the last day of class): one student outright stated that I wasn't qualified to teach the course because I'm a specialist in an earlier period, but she/he was mostly was mad that they had to memorize IDs. (It was a pretty heated comment: he/she ended off that comment with the statement "This is not an education," because apparently the whole course was based in memorization?) I find that comment interesting, partly because other students specified that the IDs helped to guide them in their studies, and also because on an absolute basis, the short answer part of the exams (which is where the identification part came in) constituted a small part of the final grade, and put a lot of emphasis on evaluating significance rather than on regurgitating details.
What can I make of that? For one thing, it would have been interesting to get feedback after they'd gotten back their essays and after they'd written the final (with a three-week course, by necessity the essay is due right before the last class). After the final, a lot of students expressed relief at the fact that I really didn't ask them anything unexpected on the final, and found the IDs part to be easier than they expected.
So, on the one hand, I can be relieved that the majority of students had a favourable impression of the course, and then I can learn from the helpful comments. They all reflect things that I've been already working on improving, and so I'm glad that I'm on the right track. I'm a little amused by how some of the comments contradict each other (I'm both organized and disorganized? I'm both a passionate lecturer and uncomfortable in front of students? I should use slides both more and less?), but that's what you get from a diverse group. I'm learning how to reach out to different kinds of learners, and I'll be a lot less terrified when I teach my next course, and so the unevenness in evaluations should level out in the future.
Now, all I can do is put these away, attend teaching workshops when I can, and hope that these evaluations were positive enough to help me get further teaching work. And focus on finishing this dissertation.
The percentage breakdown of the survey they filled out shows that the majority of my students rated me favorably, which is encouraging. My highest scores were regarding my availability to help and provide feedback, and the respect that I gave to students and their ideas. And by "highest" I mean "the majority of students rated me as 'excellent' on both counts, and the one student who was mad at me even conceded that I was 'adequate.'" I'm really happy about both of those, because I worked really hard on being available to help, and on creating a respectful space within the classroom, and it's gratifying that they noticed. With everything else, it was in the middling-to-good range, which I know is an okay place to start. (The lowest ranking was regarding my clarity in explaining things, and that will be rectified by making small tweaks that I've been learning. Hooray for teaching workshops!)
I had a small handful of really negative comments, but they're all a mixed bag. Like, one student thinks that I don't make any sense in my lecturing, and another one thinks that the grading system was harsh but my lectures were "very effective [and] well put together." I had one absolutely negative comment (likely the same student who gave me consistently low rankings, and likely the same student who was glaring at me on the last day of class): one student outright stated that I wasn't qualified to teach the course because I'm a specialist in an earlier period, but she/he was mostly was mad that they had to memorize IDs. (It was a pretty heated comment: he/she ended off that comment with the statement "This is not an education," because apparently the whole course was based in memorization?) I find that comment interesting, partly because other students specified that the IDs helped to guide them in their studies, and also because on an absolute basis, the short answer part of the exams (which is where the identification part came in) constituted a small part of the final grade, and put a lot of emphasis on evaluating significance rather than on regurgitating details.
What can I make of that? For one thing, it would have been interesting to get feedback after they'd gotten back their essays and after they'd written the final (with a three-week course, by necessity the essay is due right before the last class). After the final, a lot of students expressed relief at the fact that I really didn't ask them anything unexpected on the final, and found the IDs part to be easier than they expected.
So, on the one hand, I can be relieved that the majority of students had a favourable impression of the course, and then I can learn from the helpful comments. They all reflect things that I've been already working on improving, and so I'm glad that I'm on the right track. I'm a little amused by how some of the comments contradict each other (I'm both organized and disorganized? I'm both a passionate lecturer and uncomfortable in front of students? I should use slides both more and less?), but that's what you get from a diverse group. I'm learning how to reach out to different kinds of learners, and I'll be a lot less terrified when I teach my next course, and so the unevenness in evaluations should level out in the future.
Now, all I can do is put these away, attend teaching workshops when I can, and hope that these evaluations were positive enough to help me get further teaching work. And focus on finishing this dissertation.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Moments in the kitchen
I'm back in Victoria, back in the land of moderate temperatures and occasionally remembering I live by the ocean. I'm wearing long pants but no socks, and actually wore a light jacket this morning. Classic late summer in Victoria.
It's so good being home after being away for seven weeks. The fact that I'm in my own home and that I'm away from the high temperatures means that I feel like cooking and baking all the time. It's not that I didn't have access to a kitchen while I was away: on the contrary, I even made this on my last week staying with the in-laws:
But I didn't realise how much I had been homesick for my own kitchen until I made my porridge here on Sunday morning, and was all "Hello, My Own Measuring Cups! I missed you so much!" And so, between the cooling weather, the overwhelming joy about being reunited with my own utensils and appliances, and my need to work through some challenges with my current chapter, I've been finding myself retreating to the kitchen.
I've also been thinking about what I love so much about preparing food. I got reflecting on it again this afternoon, as I started making some polenta for our supper. And I started making an incomplete list of my favourite moments in cooking and baking (in no particular order):
1. That instant, when making polenta, when the cornmeal I'm whisking in the boiling water suddenly thickens, and instead of having a loose mixture of cornmeal and water, I have this gloopy cornmealy mush that's sputtering everywhere. (This is also one of the more exciting parts of my cooking process.)
2. The moment when sugar becomes caramel, and I have to pay close attention to the colour of it, so that it gets to be a satisfying dark colour but doesn't get burnt.
2a) The satisfying way in which caramel bubbles up and hisses when you add butter and cream to it, when making caramel sauce.
3. (2b?) Turning a crème caramel out on a platter, and discovering that the caramel really did turn to liquid while the egg mixture hardened into a custard. Simultaneously! In the same pan! Science!
4. Lifting off the lid of the heavy dutch oven and finding that a once-tough piece of meat has turned into something tender and wonderful, like pulled pork.
Those sorts of moments (along with that one when you open the oven and and see the golden tops of baked bread or pies) are what drive me to the kitchen, they're what get me finding excuses to make caramel sauce (admittedly more than my love of consuming caramel sauce): these physical and chemical transformations that, even when I understand the science behind them, seem like magic. I really still haven't lost my sense of wonder in the kitchen. (Okay, one more moment like that: when I first try something that I have made, and discover that it actually tastes like food! I still can't believe that's possible.)
I need a little more of a sense of wonder in my day. Because there's not a lot of wonder or magic in the process of trying to get the words in my head to cooperate with the words on the computer screen, or in trying to make some sense of this current chapter.
You know, I used to have a sense of wonder about history and about writing. Maybe it's time to reconnect with that.
(And now I'll stop rambling and eat one of those cookies that I made today. Chris sure isn't complaining about the time I spent in the kitchen today.)
It's so good being home after being away for seven weeks. The fact that I'm in my own home and that I'm away from the high temperatures means that I feel like cooking and baking all the time. It's not that I didn't have access to a kitchen while I was away: on the contrary, I even made this on my last week staying with the in-laws:
(The little-sister-in-law's wedding also played a major role in my being a little too busy to blog for the last part of our SK trip.)
But I didn't realise how much I had been homesick for my own kitchen until I made my porridge here on Sunday morning, and was all "Hello, My Own Measuring Cups! I missed you so much!" And so, between the cooling weather, the overwhelming joy about being reunited with my own utensils and appliances, and my need to work through some challenges with my current chapter, I've been finding myself retreating to the kitchen.
I've also been thinking about what I love so much about preparing food. I got reflecting on it again this afternoon, as I started making some polenta for our supper. And I started making an incomplete list of my favourite moments in cooking and baking (in no particular order):
1. That instant, when making polenta, when the cornmeal I'm whisking in the boiling water suddenly thickens, and instead of having a loose mixture of cornmeal and water, I have this gloopy cornmealy mush that's sputtering everywhere. (This is also one of the more exciting parts of my cooking process.)
2. The moment when sugar becomes caramel, and I have to pay close attention to the colour of it, so that it gets to be a satisfying dark colour but doesn't get burnt.
2a) The satisfying way in which caramel bubbles up and hisses when you add butter and cream to it, when making caramel sauce.
3. (2b?) Turning a crème caramel out on a platter, and discovering that the caramel really did turn to liquid while the egg mixture hardened into a custard. Simultaneously! In the same pan! Science!
4. Lifting off the lid of the heavy dutch oven and finding that a once-tough piece of meat has turned into something tender and wonderful, like pulled pork.
Those sorts of moments (along with that one when you open the oven and and see the golden tops of baked bread or pies) are what drive me to the kitchen, they're what get me finding excuses to make caramel sauce (admittedly more than my love of consuming caramel sauce): these physical and chemical transformations that, even when I understand the science behind them, seem like magic. I really still haven't lost my sense of wonder in the kitchen. (Okay, one more moment like that: when I first try something that I have made, and discover that it actually tastes like food! I still can't believe that's possible.)
I need a little more of a sense of wonder in my day. Because there's not a lot of wonder or magic in the process of trying to get the words in my head to cooperate with the words on the computer screen, or in trying to make some sense of this current chapter.
You know, I used to have a sense of wonder about history and about writing. Maybe it's time to reconnect with that.
(And now I'll stop rambling and eat one of those cookies that I made today. Chris sure isn't complaining about the time I spent in the kitchen today.)
Monday, July 25, 2011
Doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalid
So, I think that the WWII course took everything out of me. After that whole "I was so tired after giving the final that I was pretty much sleepwalking outside, and ended up with a scraped nose and a concussion" episode, I finished all the marking, packed, drove to Saskatchewan, attended a church camp, and promptly caught the Cold That Ate Vancouver Island. Two and a half weeks later, I'm finally getting better. Well, I had been getting better, and then had an allergic reaction to a cat, and spent a few days where I hardly could get out of bed. So, that was an adventure. There wasn't much to blog, since my thoughts were mostly occupied with such thoughts as "Naps after taking Benadryl are particularly strange naps," and "It is convenient that my in-laws possess a fainting couch, because I really am doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalid this week. Sometimes I'm worried that this cold is just in my head and is an excuse to sit around on a chaise lounge and read Sherlock Holmes mysteries,* but then I try to move around and start coughing like I have consumption."
But today I'm starting to feel better. I even felt well enough to tease the in-laws' cat (without actually touching her, since that would cause an allergic reaction), which is how Chris knew I was feeling better. Maybe tomorrow I'll even leave the house, and start visiting people in town. You know, since I'm IN SASKATCHEWAN and all.
***********
In other news, I'm trying out Google+ now, and am still figuring out what I think about that. If you're trying it out too, you can find me using the gmail address on the sidebar.
* You know, it is a surreal experience reading the entirety of the Sherlock Holmes stories in the course of a few weeks. You start noticing funny things, like how apparently everyone's response to traumatic experiences is to suffer from "brain-fever"? What is a brain-fever? Dramatic things happen in Prague, secret societies happen in the United States, murder is apparently okay if a lady's honour was at stake, mysterious wives come from South America, and Empire and racism are everywhere (unsurprisingly). Also, I have trouble not picturing Holmes and Watson as Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, but I picture Mycroft Holmes as Stephen Fry, even though the new Sherlock Holmes movie isn't even out yet. But I digress.
But today I'm starting to feel better. I even felt well enough to tease the in-laws' cat (without actually touching her, since that would cause an allergic reaction), which is how Chris knew I was feeling better. Maybe tomorrow I'll even leave the house, and start visiting people in town. You know, since I'm IN SASKATCHEWAN and all.
***********
In other news, I'm trying out Google+ now, and am still figuring out what I think about that. If you're trying it out too, you can find me using the gmail address on the sidebar.
* You know, it is a surreal experience reading the entirety of the Sherlock Holmes stories in the course of a few weeks. You start noticing funny things, like how apparently everyone's response to traumatic experiences is to suffer from "brain-fever"? What is a brain-fever? Dramatic things happen in Prague, secret societies happen in the United States, murder is apparently okay if a lady's honour was at stake, mysterious wives come from South America, and Empire and racism are everywhere (unsurprisingly). Also, I have trouble not picturing Holmes and Watson as Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, but I picture Mycroft Holmes as Stephen Fry, even though the new Sherlock Holmes movie isn't even out yet. But I digress.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Half-formed thoughts by the girl with the scraped nose
On Friday, I gave a final exam, and then came home, packed and went on a camping trip. It was kind of an abrupt transition, to go from the insane pace of the three-week course to a camping trip by the ocean. I was so exhausted on that first night of camping, after all those late nights of lecture writing, and early mornings of teaching, and then that long drive through rush hour traffic and then setting up a campsite, that I was pretty much sleep walking while I was trying to get ready for bed. I thought that I was used to the dark enough that I didn't need to use my flashlight to walk between the tent and our car, as I went and got a few last things. I was wrong: as soon as I turned back from the car, I tripped over a large boulder, fell and landed right on my nose. I was so tired that I hardly even noticed that I was falling; Ky said that I fell in slow motion, and she thought it was strange how I didn't put my hands out to stop my fall. Really, I was asleep while walking, and while it registered a little bit that my shins hit something hard, it really surprised me when suddenly I felt my nose scraping against rocks.
Chris and Ky came running, as they heard me quietly say "Owie. Owie. My nose." We got me cleaned up and I went straight to bed (and to sleep), and it wasn't until the next morning that we discovered that I had a mild concussion. (It is a good thing that we were camping with a nurse.) The dizziness and clumsiness made the rest of the camping trip interesting (I was like a baby deer, trying to walk around the beach the next morning), but I was camping with good friends and I enjoyed myself in spite of myself.
And now I'm back to the real world, and I have so much work to do. It's strange trying to get a lot of marking done while you're still in the midst of post-camping chaos. (Not to mention the post-concussion headache, and the scraped face that makes it difficult to wear my glasses!) It's even stranger realising that we will be leaving for Saskatchewan within the week. By this time next week, we should be with my family.
What a strange month June has been.
Chris and Ky came running, as they heard me quietly say "Owie. Owie. My nose." We got me cleaned up and I went straight to bed (and to sleep), and it wasn't until the next morning that we discovered that I had a mild concussion. (It is a good thing that we were camping with a nurse.) The dizziness and clumsiness made the rest of the camping trip interesting (I was like a baby deer, trying to walk around the beach the next morning), but I was camping with good friends and I enjoyed myself in spite of myself.
And now I'm back to the real world, and I have so much work to do. It's strange trying to get a lot of marking done while you're still in the midst of post-camping chaos. (Not to mention the post-concussion headache, and the scraped face that makes it difficult to wear my glasses!) It's even stranger realising that we will be leaving for Saskatchewan within the week. By this time next week, we should be with my family.
What a strange month June has been.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Finally
I gave my last lecture today. Tomorrow they write the final. It was so nice spending the evening not panicking about my lack of knowledge about some battle or specific WWII event. (Because I seriously had a steep learning curve with this course. So much so that I worry about how the students answered the "Instructor is knowledgeable in the course content" portion of the course evaluations.)
But tomorrow I just give them the final, and sit and mark their essays while they write. Do you know how many times I've done exactly that, in all my years as a TA? Finally I'm doing something that's in my comfort zone.
And then I'm going away and going camping, leaving my marking behind for two whole days. Two days where I'm not thinking about limited liability strategies, total war, tanks, generals, atrocities, and students' needs. And where I'm far away from my email. Bliss.
But tomorrow I just give them the final, and sit and mark their essays while they write. Do you know how many times I've done exactly that, in all my years as a TA? Finally I'm doing something that's in my comfort zone.
And then I'm going away and going camping, leaving my marking behind for two whole days. Two days where I'm not thinking about limited liability strategies, total war, tanks, generals, atrocities, and students' needs. And where I'm far away from my email. Bliss.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Quick teaching reflection
I'm deep in the midst of midterm-marking, but I noticed something that I do in my self-talk about my teaching abilities:
When I have a good day with the students, I think "Hey, today went well!" but when it's a bad day I think "I'm terrible at teaching and my students are probably disappointed that they decided to take this class from me!"
When a student does well on a midterm I think, "What a clever student! He/she really gets it!" but when a student gets a low mark I think, "I did a terrible job of teaching this! Was I really unclear that day?"
Huh. Apparently I treat the good things as nice little aberrations, or things outside of my control, and I treat the bad things as being The Norm, and There's Something Wrong With Me.
When I have a good day with the students, I think "Hey, today went well!" but when it's a bad day I think "I'm terrible at teaching and my students are probably disappointed that they decided to take this class from me!"
When a student does well on a midterm I think, "What a clever student! He/she really gets it!" but when a student gets a low mark I think, "I did a terrible job of teaching this! Was I really unclear that day?"
Huh. Apparently I treat the good things as nice little aberrations, or things outside of my control, and I treat the bad things as being The Norm, and There's Something Wrong With Me.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Blogging during my office hour
No one has shown up for this office hour, which is okay with me. There was a big rush of students showing up for my office hours at the beginning of the term, because they were figuring out what to do for their major assignment, and some of the non-majors wanted to make sure that they understood what's involved in a history course. Now, they've written the midterm but haven't gotten it back yet, and are at the stage in their assignments where they've figured out what they're doing but don't need feedback on preliminary written stuff.
That's all a long way of saying that I didn't expect anyone to show up today, and that's cool with me, because it means that I can use this hour to wind down after lecturing for two straight hours.
I'm feeling a little more competent every day. I gave a midterm yesterday, and it took them all exactly the amount of time I designed for it to take. Nothing in the midterm surprised them, but it challenged them enough, and made them work for their mark. And so I'm pleased with the quality of the midterm. I know how I'd change it in the future, but I'm happy with how it turned out this time.
And then I spent the weekend giving myself a crash course in Japanese history, while reading a major book or two and one giant historiographical essay, and today was able to turn that around into a coherent lecture that the students understood. I was able to handle any questions they asked, and tie it to stuff that they've learned on other days. I sounded like an expert in the room and wasn't too self-deprecating. Most importantly, I managed to teach much more than was in the textbook, and reflect on some of the claims that the textbook author made. This is something that I felt like was lacking in my lectures that were about areas outside of my comfort zone.
So, I guess I'm gaining confidence, and am becoming more competent as a result of it. Maybe I'll survive the month after all.
That's all a long way of saying that I didn't expect anyone to show up today, and that's cool with me, because it means that I can use this hour to wind down after lecturing for two straight hours.
I'm feeling a little more competent every day. I gave a midterm yesterday, and it took them all exactly the amount of time I designed for it to take. Nothing in the midterm surprised them, but it challenged them enough, and made them work for their mark. And so I'm pleased with the quality of the midterm. I know how I'd change it in the future, but I'm happy with how it turned out this time.
And then I spent the weekend giving myself a crash course in Japanese history, while reading a major book or two and one giant historiographical essay, and today was able to turn that around into a coherent lecture that the students understood. I was able to handle any questions they asked, and tie it to stuff that they've learned on other days. I sounded like an expert in the room and wasn't too self-deprecating. Most importantly, I managed to teach much more than was in the textbook, and reflect on some of the claims that the textbook author made. This is something that I felt like was lacking in my lectures that were about areas outside of my comfort zone.
So, I guess I'm gaining confidence, and am becoming more competent as a result of it. Maybe I'll survive the month after all.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Things are looking up
Earlier this week, I didn't know how I was going to make it through June. I was having trouble keeping up with writing lectures, and feeling like I didn't know enough about WWII, and then in the midst of all my stress I got a computer virus and ended up wiping my hard drive.* And then ended up having more problems with re-installing everything, and making silly mistakes, and ended up wiping the hard drive about four different times until I got it right. Because, you know, in a week where you're hardly getting enough sleep and are buried under a pile of work, you have time to wipe your hard drive and re-install Windows and all your programs and drivers four times.
Earlier this week, I also felt like I was The Worst Teacher In Existence. I worried that I wasn't understanding the content well enough and that my students were not learning what they needed to learn, and maybe were regretting taking a class from a new instructor.
And then things started to change. By the end of the week, I had a couple of really good classes, and worked to make sure that I went back and reviewed the important stuff so that they understood. And I started finding little ways to get through to them; having a couple of discussion classes helped so that we could all get comfortable with each other.
It's nice having 35 students, and seeing them every weekday. I'm gradually getting to know each student, and each student's particular learning needs and styles. I'm learning how to communicate differently with the science majors and the English majors, and how to get each of them to understand how a historian researches and learns.
And now? I love my students. They're all so eager to understand everything and to do well. They approach me before class, because they found a neat source and wanted to show me how cool it is. They send me emails about colorized footage that they found on Youtube. They humour me when I make them watch clips of Casablanca at the beginning of their discussion class, and laugh at the right parts.
I felt so proud when I saw the student that told me she was too shy to speak up in discussion class make a real effort and take charge of her discussion group. I get excited when I watch them all become friends, and watch as a class dynamic develops.
At this rate, I think I'm really going to miss them after the course is over.
* By the way, thanks to Laptopocalypse 2011, I finally ditched McAfee, which was useless and then so very user-non-friendly after I wiped my hard drive. I read a million reviews and have now switched to ESET, and I love it so much that I want to write about it in all-caps and many exclamation points all the time. Half the price of McAfee! And apparently it's amazingly effective! And it runs so quietly in the background! Why the heck did I stay with McAfee for all those years? Seriously, after the week I had, if I could hug a security suite, I would hug ESET.
Earlier this week, I also felt like I was The Worst Teacher In Existence. I worried that I wasn't understanding the content well enough and that my students were not learning what they needed to learn, and maybe were regretting taking a class from a new instructor.
And then things started to change. By the end of the week, I had a couple of really good classes, and worked to make sure that I went back and reviewed the important stuff so that they understood. And I started finding little ways to get through to them; having a couple of discussion classes helped so that we could all get comfortable with each other.
It's nice having 35 students, and seeing them every weekday. I'm gradually getting to know each student, and each student's particular learning needs and styles. I'm learning how to communicate differently with the science majors and the English majors, and how to get each of them to understand how a historian researches and learns.
And now? I love my students. They're all so eager to understand everything and to do well. They approach me before class, because they found a neat source and wanted to show me how cool it is. They send me emails about colorized footage that they found on Youtube. They humour me when I make them watch clips of Casablanca at the beginning of their discussion class, and laugh at the right parts.
I felt so proud when I saw the student that told me she was too shy to speak up in discussion class make a real effort and take charge of her discussion group. I get excited when I watch them all become friends, and watch as a class dynamic develops.
At this rate, I think I'm really going to miss them after the course is over.
* By the way, thanks to Laptopocalypse 2011, I finally ditched McAfee, which was useless and then so very user-non-friendly after I wiped my hard drive. I read a million reviews and have now switched to ESET, and I love it so much that I want to write about it in all-caps and many exclamation points all the time. Half the price of McAfee! And apparently it's amazingly effective! And it runs so quietly in the background! Why the heck did I stay with McAfee for all those years? Seriously, after the week I had, if I could hug a security suite, I would hug ESET.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Telegrams from Teaching Land
I am very tired. Today I taught my third day (and sixth hour) of the 3-week WWII course, and each day it gets a little better. I'm getting more comfortable in my role as The Instructor, especially as I get to know the students. It's weird: I've done all the specific jobs that an instructor does (lecture, mark, design courses, facilitate seminars), but never all at once, and never as The Person Who Is In Charge And Has To Make Decisions. It's a little scary, especially since I've never had to lecture outside of my area of expertise before, and I need act a little less frightened when I'm borderline-faking expertise. (Why hello there, Second Sino-Japanese War and the entirety of China's history. I only dealt with you briefly in a single Japanese History survey course ten years ago.)
I like my group of students more and more every day. It's a big group for a June course, with the whole range from fourth-year History majors to first-year non-majors, from pretty much every single program at the university. That's been one of my big challenges: finding a way to make it accessible for the beginners (especially since this is an entry-level course), while accommodating for the fact that some of the fourth-years know more about specific topics than I do. (They intimidated me for the first couple of days.) That's getting better: on the one hand, I'm learning how to explain things better for the beginners, to time for them to take notes, and to anticipate their questions. On the other hand, I took twenty minutes this morning and made the class debate some difficult questions, which allowed the fourth years a chance to shine.
So, I'm surviving. Each day is a little easier, and maybe at some point I'll get a little faster at preparing the lectures, and get a little more sleep at night. But for now, if you're looking for me, I'll be napping under my desk, holding the textbook open at the description of Operation Barbarossa.
I like my group of students more and more every day. It's a big group for a June course, with the whole range from fourth-year History majors to first-year non-majors, from pretty much every single program at the university. That's been one of my big challenges: finding a way to make it accessible for the beginners (especially since this is an entry-level course), while accommodating for the fact that some of the fourth-years know more about specific topics than I do. (They intimidated me for the first couple of days.) That's getting better: on the one hand, I'm learning how to explain things better for the beginners, to time for them to take notes, and to anticipate their questions. On the other hand, I took twenty minutes this morning and made the class debate some difficult questions, which allowed the fourth years a chance to shine.
So, I'm surviving. Each day is a little easier, and maybe at some point I'll get a little faster at preparing the lectures, and get a little more sleep at night. But for now, if you're looking for me, I'll be napping under my desk, holding the textbook open at the description of Operation Barbarossa.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tales out of school
jo(e) asked about how the day at Chris's school went, and I thought that ought to be a stand-alone post.
Short answer: the day went really well, and it was exactly what I needed.
Long answer:
So, on Monday Chris took me with him to his school, where I was the "guest expert" in the Socials 11 and Film and Video 12 classes, which are back-to-back morning classes with roughly the same group of students. In Social, I gave the kids a talk about primary sources, about the variety of sources and the various ways that historians use them. At the last minute, the teacher asked if I could also talk with the kids about how Hitler came to power, and about how he managed to take as much power as he did, and I could easily do that (especially since I already had planned on addressing that in the Film and Video class). In the second class, I went and gave the kids a talk about the context of Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will, getting them to think about documentary and propaganda, and then watched and discussed the last ten minutes of the film.
The kids were fantastic. They were so excited that I was coming to talk with them, because Chris talks about me uncontrollably. They were also excited because they've been really getting into World War II stuff in class, and have been grappling a lot with hard questions, and with figuring out what historians do, and were excited to talk with a Real! Live! Expert! It was fun for me, because this was exactly the kind of low-pressure situation that I needed, so that I could get comfortable again in the classroom environment. There's one student who recently discovered that she's really interested in history, and it was so rewarding watching her get into all of this stuff, and watching her face as she grasped the more difficult concepts.
Oh man, that primary source was so fun. It really was like "Introduction to Social and Cultural History," as I got them to realise that potential primary source material is all around us. (A quilt or a dish could be a primary source! This was a big deal for them!) It was good for me, in terms of my research, because I brought along a bunch of my own primary sources, and had to explain to them exactly how I could use a fictional source as a historical source. Sometimes it helps me when I have to talk it out like that.
And then I sat down in a little office near the principal's office, and spent the rest of the morning making major decisions about the course I'm teaching in June, and the afternoon making some real progress on my dissertation. So, apparently it helped me to clear out my head and talk with some enthusiastic students for a couple of hours.
*****
In related news, I put together the finishing touches on my syllabus for my June course, and have finalised pretty much all of my plans, and I'm proud of myself. And really excited about teaching this stuff now. (Although I'm a little nervous about teaching about the war in the Pacific, because I really only know Europe and Canada.)
Short answer: the day went really well, and it was exactly what I needed.
Long answer:
So, on Monday Chris took me with him to his school, where I was the "guest expert" in the Socials 11 and Film and Video 12 classes, which are back-to-back morning classes with roughly the same group of students. In Social, I gave the kids a talk about primary sources, about the variety of sources and the various ways that historians use them. At the last minute, the teacher asked if I could also talk with the kids about how Hitler came to power, and about how he managed to take as much power as he did, and I could easily do that (especially since I already had planned on addressing that in the Film and Video class). In the second class, I went and gave the kids a talk about the context of Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will, getting them to think about documentary and propaganda, and then watched and discussed the last ten minutes of the film.
The kids were fantastic. They were so excited that I was coming to talk with them, because Chris talks about me uncontrollably. They were also excited because they've been really getting into World War II stuff in class, and have been grappling a lot with hard questions, and with figuring out what historians do, and were excited to talk with a Real! Live! Expert! It was fun for me, because this was exactly the kind of low-pressure situation that I needed, so that I could get comfortable again in the classroom environment. There's one student who recently discovered that she's really interested in history, and it was so rewarding watching her get into all of this stuff, and watching her face as she grasped the more difficult concepts.
Oh man, that primary source was so fun. It really was like "Introduction to Social and Cultural History," as I got them to realise that potential primary source material is all around us. (A quilt or a dish could be a primary source! This was a big deal for them!) It was good for me, in terms of my research, because I brought along a bunch of my own primary sources, and had to explain to them exactly how I could use a fictional source as a historical source. Sometimes it helps me when I have to talk it out like that.
And then I sat down in a little office near the principal's office, and spent the rest of the morning making major decisions about the course I'm teaching in June, and the afternoon making some real progress on my dissertation. So, apparently it helped me to clear out my head and talk with some enthusiastic students for a couple of hours.
*****
In related news, I put together the finishing touches on my syllabus for my June course, and have finalised pretty much all of my plans, and I'm proud of myself. And really excited about teaching this stuff now. (Although I'm a little nervous about teaching about the war in the Pacific, because I really only know Europe and Canada.)
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Back to high school
Very soon (two and a half weeks from now!) I'm going to be teaching a three-week course on World War II. I'm terrified about this because: a.) after all this sickness and travel, I'm getting behind on my writing; b.) the syllabus is due on Thursday, and there is so much that I still haven't done; and c.) it's been two years since I've done any teaching work (and I've never been in charge of my own class all by myself). I know that I'm more than qualified: I did all the comps reading, I've helped to design courses, I've guest-lectured, and I've been a TA more times that I can count. But it's still scary.
Chris knew that I was getting stressed out about all of this, and so he offered me an opportunity to ease back into the classroom environment in a small, pressure-free way: he's bringing me in to his Film & Video 12 class, to talk with the kids about Leni Riefenstahl and The Triumph of the Will. They're going to be finishing watching the film tomorrow, and a required part of the course is to watch the film and learn about the context. And boy, do I know about the film, the filmmaker and the context. (I did a lot of research about Riefenstahl for a course I designed years ago.) So, all I have to do is go into a small class, full of kids that I already know, and talk about a filmmaker, a film, and a historical period that I can't shut up about anyway.
The principal of Chris's school heard that I'm coming to school on Monday, and asked if I could also talk with the Social Studies 11 class about primary sources and about research. He's encouraging me to show the kids some primary sources from my own research, to give them an idea of what a historian does.
You know, I'm actually giddy about tomorrow morning. I'm going to get a chance to get used to talking to a class again, in an situation where I get to have a laid-back conversation about things that really interest me. And then I'm going to get set up in an unused office and get some serious work done on my course and my dissertation. (And, having forced myself to write at Chris's school before, I know that I'll make some good progress tomorrow: talking about history will clear out my head, and then the unfamiliar office will be free of distractions, with only my work to entertain me.)
Now I must sleep. Early morning tomorrow.
Chris knew that I was getting stressed out about all of this, and so he offered me an opportunity to ease back into the classroom environment in a small, pressure-free way: he's bringing me in to his Film & Video 12 class, to talk with the kids about Leni Riefenstahl and The Triumph of the Will. They're going to be finishing watching the film tomorrow, and a required part of the course is to watch the film and learn about the context. And boy, do I know about the film, the filmmaker and the context. (I did a lot of research about Riefenstahl for a course I designed years ago.) So, all I have to do is go into a small class, full of kids that I already know, and talk about a filmmaker, a film, and a historical period that I can't shut up about anyway.
The principal of Chris's school heard that I'm coming to school on Monday, and asked if I could also talk with the Social Studies 11 class about primary sources and about research. He's encouraging me to show the kids some primary sources from my own research, to give them an idea of what a historian does.
You know, I'm actually giddy about tomorrow morning. I'm going to get a chance to get used to talking to a class again, in an situation where I get to have a laid-back conversation about things that really interest me. And then I'm going to get set up in an unused office and get some serious work done on my course and my dissertation. (And, having forced myself to write at Chris's school before, I know that I'll make some good progress tomorrow: talking about history will clear out my head, and then the unfamiliar office will be free of distractions, with only my work to entertain me.)
Now I must sleep. Early morning tomorrow.
Friday, May 13, 2011
And then I got very sick
Oh hi there. While I haven't posted to this blog since I returned from Hawaii, I also haven't unpacked since then either! My allergies went nuts at the end of the trip, and then as soon as I got home, I pretty much immediately caught the bad cold that Chris had. He was actually sick enough to miss a couple of days of school, and so considering the fact that illnesses that make Chris a little sick make me VERY sick, I should have known that this "cold" would be bad news.
In other words, I went for more than a week having no voice, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've left the house since the beginning of the month.
In better news, I've been able to do AMAZING Carol Channing impressions all week. I've been working on being able to act out this scene from Alice in Wonderland for Ky:
Thankfully, I'm starting to get MUUUUCH BEEEEETTER (seriously, please watch the above video), which is a good thing, because I have a course starting in three weeks (and am still finalizing things like readings and assignments, not to mention the syllabus), and I've been postponing a meeting with my supervisor for a week and a half now, on account of me having no voice.
Of course, all I want to do is watch Star Wars and Youtube videos, but that's just the "I have hardly left the house" talking.
(Hm. I hope this post makes sense. My head is still very foggy. Basic tasks exhaust me.)
In other words, I went for more than a week having no voice, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've left the house since the beginning of the month.
In better news, I've been able to do AMAZING Carol Channing impressions all week. I've been working on being able to act out this scene from Alice in Wonderland for Ky:
Thankfully, I'm starting to get MUUUUCH BEEEEETTER (seriously, please watch the above video), which is a good thing, because I have a course starting in three weeks (and am still finalizing things like readings and assignments, not to mention the syllabus), and I've been postponing a meeting with my supervisor for a week and a half now, on account of me having no voice.
Of course, all I want to do is watch Star Wars and Youtube videos, but that's just the "I have hardly left the house" talking.
(Hm. I hope this post makes sense. My head is still very foggy. Basic tasks exhaust me.)
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