Understanding Graduate School

Well it's October and the heat is on in graduate school. If I make it through this month, I believe all will be well. I think back on my preconceptions of what school would be like and how I even imagined I could hold down a job while in school. School is a job in itself. The readings, the research and writing papers, attending class, studying, on-line lectures all combine to utilize a majority of my time. Even factoring in my age and unsharpened skills, I think even a non-stressful job would have been too much for me this first semester. But it is so much fun to be a student again, learning things new to me. I have been a generalist most of my teaching career, which means I know a little bit about a lot of things. I am eager to focus on a narrower agenda.

Critical thinking is an area of concern for me now as I read to understand and then share my views and interpretations back to the professor. I knew I would be good at test-taking, at least the tests that cover content. I have a mid-term coming up that is all essay and short answer. In order to get an A on the long essay, I must form a thesis statement and develop the essay using various readings and class discussions to fully explore the topic. I believe I can do this, then there is the but.....but what if I fail to have a convincing argument? What if the information just leaves my head at the last minute and I draw a blank? What if what I see as important and relevant is not the key point the professor had in mind. There is so much information to be aware of and only a fraction of it is covered on the test and you don't know what it will be, so you study it all. Talk about a narrower agenda! What have I signed up for?

Then I remember life is about process and all I can do is do my best. As a teacher, I remember the students who involved themselves in their learning generally fared well and were able to articulate what they learned in a reasonble manner and I can do the same.

Unbalanced

September usually marks a time in my life when I lose any semblance of balance between my work life and my non-work life. The start of the youth & teen program fall session at the dance organization where I work means that I work the first two weeks of the session straight.  This year was no different. I worked the Tuesday after Labor Day, the 5th through the 17th. Twelve days of working. Most of the time I was putting in 8 hour days, if not longer.

The over-achieving, workaholic is a standard image in our contemporary, western culture. Definitely within the corporate culture. I think it's just as bad in non-profit culture where I work. There is this idea that we have to sacrifice our lives for the good work we're doing. When there is a gap to be filled in, we jump in and roll up our sleeves. There's a constant idea of there being no money and no resources. You're supported by your ideals and the knowledge that what you're doing is important.

I have always had a strangely strong work ethic. I have been noted of going above and beyond in all of my jobs - student (6-22), receptionist (15), sales clerk (16), restaurant hostess (17-20), library circulation desk attendant (18-22), au pair (22), Americorps volunteer (23-24), non-profit arts administrator (24-29). I'm not saying I haven't slacked off or wasted time while on the clock. I read a romance novel at the library one semester that a professor had put on the holds shelf for a class during the downtime of my shifts. Note that I wasn't in the class. But, overall, I've always focused on being present and engaged in the workplace, which has served me in finding better and better jobs and employment.

So, when does this become a problem? When does being a good employee go beyond what's healthy? How do you say no when you know there is no one else there, and no money to hire someone to be there, to do the job? How do you stop being good at your job for the sake of being good to yourself?

the outdoors

My first backcountry backpacking/camping trip, ever, happened this Labor Day weekend. While I was a girl scout for many years growing up, we never actually went camping. I had never carried a pack, set up a tent, or done a dozen things that I did this weekend. 

Conversely, Martin was a boy scout. He went camping at least twice a year. One might say that this was an instance of him growing up in a rural area, while I grew up in a suburban area, but I don't think that's particularly accurate. I'm pretty sure boy scouts who lived in Roswell, GA went camping. I'm alos pretty sure that other girls who may or may not have been girl scouts but lived in Roswell, GA went camping growing up. 

Instead, I would say that camping was just not part of my family's lifestyle. My father and brother didn't go camping without us women-folk; they just didn't go camping. My parents never owned a tent. Our sleeping bags were the Rainbow Brite and My Little Pony style ones, not the keep you warm in under 30 degree weather kind.

And I think that my total and complete lack of camping and backpacking experience in the 80's and 90's actually may have been a good thing. You see camping gear used to be a lot heavier. A lot. And I was a tiny, tiny little thing growing up. While I loved the outdoors, I don't know that I would have loved hiking with a big external frame pack.

Now, they have ultra light tents and sleeping bags/pads that scrunch up into little bundles. Now, I have friends who have so much backpacking experience that they can lend us 95% of the gear we need to go. I think the only thing we actually had to buy was a pack for me because, as I mentioned, I'm kind of small. The best fit for me was actually a youth pack, not a women's pack.

I wonder if my parents went camping as children. I wonder if my brother and sister have been camping. I must say that I never perceived it as a lack growing up. But, I'm glad that, as an adult, I have had this experience. Sadly, it has made my non-consumerist goals much more difficult, because now I want to be able to do this on our own.

Getting out of the city. The silence of the evenings. The clean air. The easy tiredness in the evenings knowing that you have earned your rest. The sparkling fresh water of the mountain lake that we swam in. All of these things must be experienced again.

west wave dance festival

Collaboration can be an amazing thing. Tonight I saw an evening length dance piece that was choreographed by 4 choreographers. It was one of the best dance performances I've seen this year. Quirky. Funny. Emotional. Intriguing. Dense. Crafted. All words that came to mind when thinking back over what I saw.

Nourishment

Finishing class by dancing to Beirut's Nants. Organic, vegan mexican food for lunch. Hanging out browsing the shelves in the local, sci-fi/fantasy bookstore. A walk to the library filled with flowers and I remembered to bring my camera. Finishing the day with a quiet evening at home with just me & the mister.

purple flowers in our courtyard

a tiny sprig of California poppies in between the railroad tracks

tiny pink flowers I had to catch to photograph because of the  wind

loving the digital macro setting on my point and shoot

life and death

these ones were extremely pungent

high in the trees

Sabado

Pilates class. Work. Dinner and a show with friends. A long walk home. Today was a day of small moments within long stretches of time.

Travel Note

When going through airport security, remove all large rocks from carry-on bags before sending them through the x-ray machine. Saves you from going through a bag check and explaining that your mother collects rocks for her labyrinth.

Bug bites

My feet at Lake Superior

I would love to have been outside more of our stay here, but unfortunately I am a banquet for the blood thirsty mosquitos. I wonder if one gets more allergic to them over time. I don't remember being this affected by them when I was younger.

Treetop Playground

''If there were no poetry on any day in the world, poetry would be invented that day. For there would be an intolerable hunger.'' Muriel Rukeyser Branches sway and crackle and the chase is on; squirrels run up and down the tall trunk spiraling round. No one is caught that is not the aim of the game. "Breathe in experience breathe out poetry." Muriel Rukeyser

Water and Fire

Avah picking up rocks on the beach of Lake Superior

Horizon at Lake Superior

Our driftwood fire

Avah, Martin's niece, and me

Martin - fire starter and veggie dog roaster

Swimming in Lake Michigan. The water was clear and chilly. Later we had a driftwood fire and picnic by Lake Superior. I collected some stones for mom's labyrinth.

Quiet Night Walk

With gratitude and a slow rhythmic pace, I walk inside the coils in the dark night. Nothing is revealed, but I take out with me bumps left by hungry creatures who fed on my blood.