7:30 get up with Z.
8:00 return email to boss re workload.
8:17 look for z's coat because winter has returned.
8:29 find coat.
8:30 take z to school.
9:00 prep for advanced non.
9:45 read student's (late) essay.
10:00 write one page comment on student's (late) (two page) essay.
11:20 eat early lunch.
11:45 drive to campus (half an hour!)
12:15 drive around good parking lot.
12:20 park in bad parking lot.
12:25 re-read CV's of job candidates (late hire).
12:30 faculty meeting to discuss hire. wonder what they said about me last year pre-hire. try not to pass out in amazement that I was ever hired.
1:30 break for coffee with Agamemnon.
1:40 learn more about U's propensities and preferences.
1:50 return to office to discuss with Agamemnon new workshop strategies including "body" workshop wherein one wears a different hat, wakes up at 4 a.m., writes longhand, writes drunk, writes naked, writes wearing other gender's clothes, writes outside just so writer writes.
2:00 interview by colleague re: outreach.
2:30 meet with student re my comments not jibing with classmates comments. explain how I'm right but they have good points too.
2:55 reread poem to teach at 3:00
3:00 quiz students over reading. ignore complaints that i didn't warn them about quiz.
3:10 teach Dean Young poem Colophon.
3:30 corrall students' workshop.
4:00 stop workshop, outline next two week's work.
4:15 return to office, turn in students receipts to get repaid for AWP, email UC Riverside to ask for Reading for Writers syllabus.
4:30 go to early dinner.
4:40 order.
4:45 finish prepping for 6:00 class.
5:30 find student in hallway looking for me. he asks to come hang out in my office.
5:31 talk to student about existential crises.
6:00 discuss David Shield's Remote. say some smart things that i've already forgotten.
7:00 implement new workshop plan. divide students into two groups.
7:05 write exit interview questions for students post-workshop.
7:06 overhear student hear from a grad school.
7:21 continue week-long conversation with student over grad school possibilities.
7:25 meet with exit interviewee #1
7:40 meet with EI #2
7:55 meet iwth EI #3
8:10 meet with EI #4
8:25 meet with EI #5
8:40 meet with EI #6
8:55 leave campus 10 minutes (late).
8:56 realize roads scarier than ever.
8:59 talk to sister re: job. scary phone & drive.
9:05 watch cars slide off freeway. hang up phone.
9:10 watch jeep spin 3 times.
9:15 take off shoes.
9:17 pour glas of wine. (OK, wine first, then shoes)
9:24 blog (please note marker for blog off. On pacific time or possibly hawaii!)
9:39 finish wine (early).
9:40 post blog without proofreading.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Long & Busy (not to be confused with productive) week
I had to go to work on a Friday to hear a job talk. This going to campus on a Friday has happened before but not usually for the whole day. Or the four hours of the day.
For some reason, this semester has been so much less productive writing-wise than last semester even though last semester I taught 4 days a week and had just moved here. I was in a bit of a panic then, and less so now, but I really should have been able to devote Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays to writing work. Perhaps April will reveal a new energy and dedication to that vein of the work since after talking to Dean and Chair, the scholarly element of the job is where they would like us to shine.
I suppose I'm less in a writing panic because of the grant but also because I finally found an agent who loves my book. Flat out loves it. So rare. No weird side critiques. No but's or if onlies. She's an angel even if she doesn't sell it. I always write more when I've been rejected, which is sick and means I need to focus on the my failures.
Speaking of which, I sent out my book of poems again. I checked out the book to see if this one poem that I hate is still in there. I think of taking it out all the time but for some reason, don't. I went to check it out. It's title is the problem. "The Intersection of French and German" is so pretentious. But the poem itself isn't bad. It's about belly-buttons. How bad could that be. So I sent the book off with one more period that it had before but otherwise the same as always. The rejection should be in the mail already.
So now my self-doubt has been relegated to teaching. One of my students, late on a Monday night in the parking lot on campus, suggested that I teach poetry via grammar. I thought he had an interesting point. I tried not to be defensive and to hear why he thought that was a successful method--he'd done a lot of reading about workshops and was interesting in teaching soon and in the near future. Still, I thought it a bit of an odd suggestion though possibly workable idea. It did make me think about different possibilities to teach workshop. As I've mentioned before, I've had some good workshop teachers and some mediocre ones but I don't think a perfect model has been demonstrated to me.
I'm trying to shake things up at the end of the semester just to experiment about how to make the students more responsive and responsible to each other. Although I don't know if talking about prepositions is the way to develop a methodology, as my one student suggested, but it may be a manner that would make the workshop less formulaic. So I divided my class in half and will have them workshop more fewer pieces more slowly. After the writer has been thoroughly critiqued, she'll come tell me what her workshoppers thought, what she found helpful, what she still needed help thinking through and how it might affect her revision. This second part might be the trickiest part--taking the student out of the workshop for a small conference and asking her to recapitulate what she heard but I think the students will pay attention differently, which, if nothing else, will be a small sign of success.
The hardest part for me about teaching is logistics--some of my ideas seem great until I put them into play and realize that whoops I forgot to account for the 17 contingencies and the desire for students to know exactly what's going to happen every day for the whole semester. I suppose I will take the risk to shake things up at the expense of the students feeling comfortable. Perhaps it will even work.
For some reason, this semester has been so much less productive writing-wise than last semester even though last semester I taught 4 days a week and had just moved here. I was in a bit of a panic then, and less so now, but I really should have been able to devote Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays to writing work. Perhaps April will reveal a new energy and dedication to that vein of the work since after talking to Dean and Chair, the scholarly element of the job is where they would like us to shine.
I suppose I'm less in a writing panic because of the grant but also because I finally found an agent who loves my book. Flat out loves it. So rare. No weird side critiques. No but's or if onlies. She's an angel even if she doesn't sell it. I always write more when I've been rejected, which is sick and means I need to focus on the my failures.
Speaking of which, I sent out my book of poems again. I checked out the book to see if this one poem that I hate is still in there. I think of taking it out all the time but for some reason, don't. I went to check it out. It's title is the problem. "The Intersection of French and German" is so pretentious. But the poem itself isn't bad. It's about belly-buttons. How bad could that be. So I sent the book off with one more period that it had before but otherwise the same as always. The rejection should be in the mail already.
So now my self-doubt has been relegated to teaching. One of my students, late on a Monday night in the parking lot on campus, suggested that I teach poetry via grammar. I thought he had an interesting point. I tried not to be defensive and to hear why he thought that was a successful method--he'd done a lot of reading about workshops and was interesting in teaching soon and in the near future. Still, I thought it a bit of an odd suggestion though possibly workable idea. It did make me think about different possibilities to teach workshop. As I've mentioned before, I've had some good workshop teachers and some mediocre ones but I don't think a perfect model has been demonstrated to me.
I'm trying to shake things up at the end of the semester just to experiment about how to make the students more responsive and responsible to each other. Although I don't know if talking about prepositions is the way to develop a methodology, as my one student suggested, but it may be a manner that would make the workshop less formulaic. So I divided my class in half and will have them workshop more fewer pieces more slowly. After the writer has been thoroughly critiqued, she'll come tell me what her workshoppers thought, what she found helpful, what she still needed help thinking through and how it might affect her revision. This second part might be the trickiest part--taking the student out of the workshop for a small conference and asking her to recapitulate what she heard but I think the students will pay attention differently, which, if nothing else, will be a small sign of success.
The hardest part for me about teaching is logistics--some of my ideas seem great until I put them into play and realize that whoops I forgot to account for the 17 contingencies and the desire for students to know exactly what's going to happen every day for the whole semester. I suppose I will take the risk to shake things up at the expense of the students feeling comfortable. Perhaps it will even work.
Friday, March 23, 2007
All's well
She's A OK. Now I can make inappropriate jokes about how huge her head is. Poor kid. Her head is almost as big as mine. But that is, according to all news MRI, just fine.
Now I have to go lie down. All the stress that has been keeping me upright this week is starting to seep out.
Thank you everyone who waited in worry with us.
Mwah. (that's a kiss from Z).
Now I have to go lie down. All the stress that has been keeping me upright this week is starting to seep out.
Thank you everyone who waited in worry with us.
Mwah. (that's a kiss from Z).
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
No news yet but you know what they say about news
Hi you all who commented and sent your good wishes for the Zoster.
Of course, we know nothing yet but if it was emergent she would have had to stay at the hospital last night. And, we didn't hear anything today--so if it's probably not immediately horrible. A few more days and we'll know more.
Of course, we know nothing yet but if it was emergent she would have had to stay at the hospital last night. And, we didn't hear anything today--so if it's probably not immediately horrible. A few more days and we'll know more.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Over-workshopped
Spring break came and went way too fast. But now my week is over again and the work I'll do now is less public, if not more intense. I'm teaching two three-hour workshops this semester and it's the best and worst of all worlds. On the one hand, three hours gives us plenty of time to get in the mode of workshopping, to relate our reading to the workshop pieces and to develop a sort of workshop aesthetic. On the other hand, by the end of the 2nd hour, the class starts to lag. I lag. The students get cheeky. Sometimes frustrated with each other. There has to be a way to shake up workshop so it's not all praise and suggestion--although my students are really good at the praise and critique and we're working hard toward making truly creative and helpful suggestions--but this takes so many mental gymnastics--to not only read and comprehend a piece, but to find its signature strengths and its integral flaws and then to imagine how to reinforce those strengths and explore, explode and fix the flaws is more like running 3 miles than running 3 miles is. I am so impressed with my students and their stamina. I'm less impressed with my own until I remind myself that every comment one of them makes I need to: hear and comprehend, find its signature strength and integral flaw and then reinforce its good point and find a way to incorporate its flaw into something constructive. Workshopping the workshop is like hauling up a net of fish, flieting them, cooking them up just right and serving them with an unbroken hollandaise.
On another note: I'm so sad. Z needs an MRI for her ever-large head. I didn't want to blog about it because I don't want anyone to look at her and see how big her head is but what if there is something wrong? Encephalitis? Hydro-encephalitis? What if she needs brain surgery? What if she needs to wear a helmet that re-shapes her head? How do I know how to worry with the right weight? My mom says it never ends, the worry. But an MRI on a 20 month old? Hard to find in my own head about where to hang the balance.
On another note: I'm so sad. Z needs an MRI for her ever-large head. I didn't want to blog about it because I don't want anyone to look at her and see how big her head is but what if there is something wrong? Encephalitis? Hydro-encephalitis? What if she needs brain surgery? What if she needs to wear a helmet that re-shapes her head? How do I know how to worry with the right weight? My mom says it never ends, the worry. But an MRI on a 20 month old? Hard to find in my own head about where to hang the balance.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Back from Atlanta
This blog is officially turning into "the complain about weather blog." If you wanted me to say interesting things about other topics, you'll have to email or call me. It's 16 degrees today. Gray. A flake about every five minutes but each flake threatens more. While we were gone, it snowed 18 inches or so. My father-in-law had to shovel every day. His back hurts but he got to go home.
The whole thing just depresses me. I'm not used to being depressed by weather but this is getting a bit suffocating. It adds to the feeling of isolation now that the in-laws have gone home and we've left our friends to go back to their regular homes. Even our friends here are out of town and promising more leave. It's a bit like a hard stone in my chest all the time.
AWP itself was OK. It was different than usual because a) I didn't have to sit at the bookfair table all day every day and b) I had a presentation on Saturday. On the one hand, it was nice to have only one real obligation. On the other, I missed having a place to go and meet strangers and Saturday loomed the whole time. Somewhat like the clouds right now (see how this is weather blogging still?).
I saw many great blog people--Dr W and Lisa B and Strange Polkas and Terrible Mother(although not enough of the last one. Maybe next year). I saw great friends who now live in Texas and do good work making us feel better that we live at least in a city with several nice restaurants. They are much jealous of our tapas here. Tapas eaten in the cold but tapas nonetheless. I saw my great friend Steve whose book came out and who got a tiny sliver of the moon of attention he deserves (See Dr. Write on Steve's book).
(Flake a minute now).
I saw Margot and Felicia and Steve T--friends that are closer now than they ever were in Salt City. I met a couple of people for a few hours that I would like to remember next year--Brian, Liz, Dave, John, Christine (the last two from Texas friends' U).
I saw U of U profs Jackie and Donald and Kate and Paisley and Karen. Got to have a drink with Karen. Got to want more from Donald and Jackie as usual.
And, for the real namedropping, I got to hang out with David Shields and Nick Flynn and Michael Martone and Rebecca Woolf and David Hamilton and Kim Barnes and the guy from Poets and Writers.
And of course folks from Grand U including students who were good and bad alternately but in the end quite fun (although they thought I ditched them for a party. I didn't. I would have but I didn't).
(The snow is falling harder now. A flake a second.)
Thoughts: As usual, I hate the schmoozing and the fakery and the hopelessness of AWP right at first but then by Saturday, I'm steeled against hope and fakes and just kind of like the people and the people watching. Really a generally good group. All 5,000. I like to make summary judgements. Large ones. But still, by the end, itis mostly true. The panel went well--a number of people have emailed me or Margot to tell us it was their favorite panel. That was much niceness. And, considering it was of the last panels, it was still pretty well attended. Yeah! Maybe I'll do it again one day.
OK. Snow falling for real now. Must go hunker down and buck up and batten down the hatches. Or find my gloves. To wear. Indoors. So I can type more.
The whole thing just depresses me. I'm not used to being depressed by weather but this is getting a bit suffocating. It adds to the feeling of isolation now that the in-laws have gone home and we've left our friends to go back to their regular homes. Even our friends here are out of town and promising more leave. It's a bit like a hard stone in my chest all the time.
AWP itself was OK. It was different than usual because a) I didn't have to sit at the bookfair table all day every day and b) I had a presentation on Saturday. On the one hand, it was nice to have only one real obligation. On the other, I missed having a place to go and meet strangers and Saturday loomed the whole time. Somewhat like the clouds right now (see how this is weather blogging still?).
I saw many great blog people--Dr W and Lisa B and Strange Polkas and Terrible Mother(although not enough of the last one. Maybe next year). I saw great friends who now live in Texas and do good work making us feel better that we live at least in a city with several nice restaurants. They are much jealous of our tapas here. Tapas eaten in the cold but tapas nonetheless. I saw my great friend Steve whose book came out and who got a tiny sliver of the moon of attention he deserves (See Dr. Write on Steve's book).
(Flake a minute now).
I saw Margot and Felicia and Steve T--friends that are closer now than they ever were in Salt City. I met a couple of people for a few hours that I would like to remember next year--Brian, Liz, Dave, John, Christine (the last two from Texas friends' U).
I saw U of U profs Jackie and Donald and Kate and Paisley and Karen. Got to have a drink with Karen. Got to want more from Donald and Jackie as usual.
And, for the real namedropping, I got to hang out with David Shields and Nick Flynn and Michael Martone and Rebecca Woolf and David Hamilton and Kim Barnes and the guy from Poets and Writers.
And of course folks from Grand U including students who were good and bad alternately but in the end quite fun (although they thought I ditched them for a party. I didn't. I would have but I didn't).
(The snow is falling harder now. A flake a second.)
Thoughts: As usual, I hate the schmoozing and the fakery and the hopelessness of AWP right at first but then by Saturday, I'm steeled against hope and fakes and just kind of like the people and the people watching. Really a generally good group. All 5,000. I like to make summary judgements. Large ones. But still, by the end, itis mostly true. The panel went well--a number of people have emailed me or Margot to tell us it was their favorite panel. That was much niceness. And, considering it was of the last panels, it was still pretty well attended. Yeah! Maybe I'll do it again one day.
OK. Snow falling for real now. Must go hunker down and buck up and batten down the hatches. Or find my gloves. To wear. Indoors. So I can type more.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
off, off forth on swing
To AWP:
Can I just quote Hopkinis' Windhover during my panel?
I already use the superbowl as a reference so how much weirder would that be?
I'm SO excited to see High Touch & Dr. Write & Strange Polks and meet Terrible Mother. A convergence of friends. I suppose there ARE other reasons to convene but this is the best one.
I give my panel presentation with Margot Singer and Nick Flynn and David Shields on Saturday. I wish it was on Wednesday so then the rest of the conference would just be relaxing but it's probably for the best I stay somewhat on task.
The best bit is that after this, it's Spring Break at Grand U so I can relax afterwards. What a semester! What a winter!
It's going to be 60 degrees. I'm bringing skirts and a swimmin' suit.
If I can report from there I will.
Can I just quote Hopkinis' Windhover during my panel?
I already use the superbowl as a reference so how much weirder would that be?
I'm SO excited to see High Touch & Dr. Write & Strange Polks and meet Terrible Mother. A convergence of friends. I suppose there ARE other reasons to convene but this is the best one.
I give my panel presentation with Margot Singer and Nick Flynn and David Shields on Saturday. I wish it was on Wednesday so then the rest of the conference would just be relaxing but it's probably for the best I stay somewhat on task.
The best bit is that after this, it's Spring Break at Grand U so I can relax afterwards. What a semester! What a winter!
It's going to be 60 degrees. I'm bringing skirts and a swimmin' suit.
If I can report from there I will.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Itemized
1. They (Blogger) made me move to the new blogger. Urg. I hate to be forced to make changes.
2. Erik has a new Mac! I hate new computers but this screen is sweet (I'm typing on it right now). He needed two gigs of RAM to run Final Cut. Two gigs of RAM! I remember when 16 megabytes were great. I mean, I remember when 256 K was normal, but that was never great.
3. Blog world is freaking me out. Bitch PhD wrote some smart and salient post and people went CRAZY on her. She's a brave and well-armored woman. One day, I'll have some chutzpah.
4. Getting excited about AWP
5. Hoping Zoe stays healthy.
6. Erik and I each bought 2 lbs of Tillamook Cheddar at Costco. We already had some cheese. I'm pretty sure there's about 5 lbs of medium cheddar in our house. At least Zoe and her sitters won't starve while we're basking in the rays of Atlanta, GA.
7. I've taken to deleting huge portions of my manuscripts.
8. Started NEA project poems.
9. I'm writing serious comments on my students' workshop poems. I wonder if any prof I had wrote comments at all. I know Eleanor and Melanie did. And Robin wrote a brief paragraph. But others? Not so much.
10. No president's day for us at the Grand U tomorrow. They've rigged the schedule so we can get out by April 19th! The summer cometh.
2. Erik has a new Mac! I hate new computers but this screen is sweet (I'm typing on it right now). He needed two gigs of RAM to run Final Cut. Two gigs of RAM! I remember when 16 megabytes were great. I mean, I remember when 256 K was normal, but that was never great.
3. Blog world is freaking me out. Bitch PhD wrote some smart and salient post and people went CRAZY on her. She's a brave and well-armored woman. One day, I'll have some chutzpah.
4. Getting excited about AWP
5. Hoping Zoe stays healthy.
6. Erik and I each bought 2 lbs of Tillamook Cheddar at Costco. We already had some cheese. I'm pretty sure there's about 5 lbs of medium cheddar in our house. At least Zoe and her sitters won't starve while we're basking in the rays of Atlanta, GA.
7. I've taken to deleting huge portions of my manuscripts.
8. Started NEA project poems.
9. I'm writing serious comments on my students' workshop poems. I wonder if any prof I had wrote comments at all. I know Eleanor and Melanie did. And Robin wrote a brief paragraph. But others? Not so much.
10. No president's day for us at the Grand U tomorrow. They've rigged the schedule so we can get out by April 19th! The summer cometh.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Sick!
Me! Sick! I'm never sick. I've been sick since I posted last. A sinus infection. In my nose! Rude. I finally went to the doctor yesterday where I let him prescribe the dreaded anti-biotics. I hate to use antibiotics. Resistant bacteria. Ack!
I do feel a little better as you can tell by my wanton use of exclamation points. But I hate the doctor's office. My blood pressure spikes, I get all pissed about the state of Health care in this country AND I have PTSD from all the times Zoe has been sent to the ER immediately.
But! I did manage to teach my classes and grade and comment and the like so I haven't been completely incapacitated.
Perhaps March will be the month to be productive??? After I finish off these bowling-ball sized pills. 6 a day. For ten days. Die little bacteria. And don't come back with that amoxilcillin can't kill me any more business.
I blame the cold.
And the snow.
And the doctors.
And the bacteria.
I'm off to eat some yogurt where some tiny acidophilus creatures I love can re-line my bacteria-free stomach.
I do feel a little better as you can tell by my wanton use of exclamation points. But I hate the doctor's office. My blood pressure spikes, I get all pissed about the state of Health care in this country AND I have PTSD from all the times Zoe has been sent to the ER immediately.
But! I did manage to teach my classes and grade and comment and the like so I haven't been completely incapacitated.
Perhaps March will be the month to be productive??? After I finish off these bowling-ball sized pills. 6 a day. For ten days. Die little bacteria. And don't come back with that amoxilcillin can't kill me any more business.
I blame the cold.
And the snow.
And the doctors.
And the bacteria.
I'm off to eat some yogurt where some tiny acidophilus creatures I love can re-line my bacteria-free stomach.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
February
I can barely see the road, the snow is falling so hard. But here, the intrepid midwesterner drags out her intrepid sled, slides down the sidewalk (because they're covered in ice, then snow, then ice, then more snow) and whose parents even slip on the cross-country skis to slide on over to the park that has the one small hill in the area. The hill slopes for only about ten feet but stays slippery all winter because it never thaws). Until last week, temps here were Salt Lake-ish. It felt a bit colder because of the humidity, but 25-30 degrees wasn't too bad. Now though, it's 10 degrees outside with a -14 windchill. Sweet. They say it hasn't been this cold or snowy here for 7-8 years. Another sweet. But except for the shoveling and the hard-to-run on ice bit, the snow it isn't so bad. At least not on a Saturday when we don't have to go anywhere (except Egg who took the dog for a walk in the blizzard). So. February in Michigan. I'll let you know how much snow finally accumulates.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Like a CEO
A new analogy for teaching and why we should get paid like a million dollars a class.
1. Each class is like it's own small company. You need to make promotional materials for it (syllabi, handouts, etc.), you need to do research about the product (read books), you need to incorporate that research into the product (lectures, discussinos) and you need to persuade your customers (sadly, your students) to buy it (tests, graded work). The ideas in the discussion and the lecture are unique therefore should be patentable (although there may be some legal business about patenting speech but if we get Disney in on this, I'm sure we can work around it). Oh, and you make copies yourself which makes you an administrative assistant to your own boss which is also you! You're a very, very busy person. You shouldn't take any unsolicited phone calls. Have them send the prospectus to your office and you'll take a look at it later.
1. Each class is like it's own small company. You need to make promotional materials for it (syllabi, handouts, etc.), you need to do research about the product (read books), you need to incorporate that research into the product (lectures, discussinos) and you need to persuade your customers (sadly, your students) to buy it (tests, graded work). The ideas in the discussion and the lecture are unique therefore should be patentable (although there may be some legal business about patenting speech but if we get Disney in on this, I'm sure we can work around it). Oh, and you make copies yourself which makes you an administrative assistant to your own boss which is also you! You're a very, very busy person. You shouldn't take any unsolicited phone calls. Have them send the prospectus to your office and you'll take a look at it later.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Media
So the news of the NEA hit the University circuit. It's very funny to see your picture on your school's home page. They have a rotating set of "success stories" and every so often when I open the page to access school stuff, there's the picture Egg took of me staring back. Of course, I don't love the picture; though it's not terrible. I feel like I'm the same color of face & hair & shirt. Three interviews, one online piece & a oforum, one school paper and one city paper is exhausting. It's kind of fun too and I like this bit of fame. What I really like are the questions about poetry as if anyone cares. Maybe they do. At least the interviewers do. And so have a couple people who have contacted me who didn't know me and read about the grant. It's also kind of fun to articulate my project. It provides me a bit more clarity too. Now if I only knew what to do with the grant. Take a semester off? But then we'd stay here & I'm not sure how beneficial that would be. Spend it on a trip to Europe? Perhaps a bit of dislocation would help me write more regularly. Maybe I'll just go hang out in a beach house in Oregon. Yes. That sounds nice.
I sent the PR stuff to the U and to the Trib in SL so maybe they'll be interested. It'd be nice to have people who know me see me in the news. The best part: My students said congratulations when I walked into class yesterday. It's so rare for them to speak without being directly asked a question and a number of them, in front of everyone said how they'd read the piece in the paper. My intro students who I've taught for only a week. So sweet. Makes teaching a bit easier too. They seemed (of course, could have been purely the glow through which I say them) to pay more attention to what I had to say. I think I've been talking--including the 3 hours classes, the interviews, and the welcome back from break conversations--for the past week and a half straight. My jaw hurts a little. Perhaps that's a sign I should go write something.
I sent the PR stuff to the U and to the Trib in SL so maybe they'll be interested. It'd be nice to have people who know me see me in the news. The best part: My students said congratulations when I walked into class yesterday. It's so rare for them to speak without being directly asked a question and a number of them, in front of everyone said how they'd read the piece in the paper. My intro students who I've taught for only a week. So sweet. Makes teaching a bit easier too. They seemed (of course, could have been purely the glow through which I say them) to pay more attention to what I had to say. I think I've been talking--including the 3 hours classes, the interviews, and the welcome back from break conversations--for the past week and a half straight. My jaw hurts a little. Perhaps that's a sign I should go write something.
Monday, January 08, 2007
I knew I was bossy but...
You Are An ENTJ |
The Executive You are a natural leader - with confidence and strength that inspires others. Driven to succeed, you are always looking for ways to gain, power, knowledge, and expertise. Sometimes you aren't the most considerate person, especially to those who are a bit slow. You are not easily intimidated - and you have a commanding, awe-inspiring presence. You would make a great CEO, entrepreneur, or consultant. |
Is teaching like being a CEO? I suppose. In a way.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Updated
Dr. C added me to her blogroll so I thought I'd better return the favor and update. I have only updates because something about break has sucked the life out of me. It's been so great to be home, eat, hang out, drink excessively, write a little, see so many people that I adore, but, man, it's been nonstop. Tonight is the first night we haven't been out to dinner or over to someone's house in over 13 days. So many abundances that are so scarce in G.R. (where we're missing the Gerald Ford funeral--such pomp & circumstance.) I simultaneously can't stand the idea of going back and can't wait. It's so comfortable her and we have so much help with Z but life seems sort of suspended. Thank god I got the emails that I did so I felt connected to the ever-moving stream of things.
The good things are that I've heard from long and lost friends this break and am so happy to have reconnected. I have written enough that I'm not overwhelmed with that which I must write when I get back. I did what I could to balance the amount of time we saw everyone although we erred on mountain-side of sleeping-over just because it's so hard to move back and forth and so easy to just sit around here and look up at Mt. Olympus and drink 5 cups of coffee and then eat breakfast. My mom's house was great too. Everyone has been so generous with their space and food and time.
Christmas itself: eh. I'm grinchy. I hate all the plastic and the anticipation and the disappointment and the money spent. Who knew I'd become so much like my Reed College self--particulalry particular and a bit on the judgemental side. There was so much stuff for Z that even she who is always cheerful and patient started to shove aside one present for the next. Not my favorite kid behavior.
Progress:
My syllabi are about 75% done. I plan to finish them tonight or tomorrow. 3 is a lot of preps I just now realize. I really want these syllabi to have imagined every contingency but I know there will be details I missed. Still, I'm excited for the readings and I think the pace of the class will be much more reasonable this time semester.
I can't wait to hear from folks about their MLA successes. I hope good news for all of them although I think this was a pretty rough year. I feel I'm pretty lucky to have the job I have.
All in all I'm looking forward to 2007.
The good things are that I've heard from long and lost friends this break and am so happy to have reconnected. I have written enough that I'm not overwhelmed with that which I must write when I get back. I did what I could to balance the amount of time we saw everyone although we erred on mountain-side of sleeping-over just because it's so hard to move back and forth and so easy to just sit around here and look up at Mt. Olympus and drink 5 cups of coffee and then eat breakfast. My mom's house was great too. Everyone has been so generous with their space and food and time.
Christmas itself: eh. I'm grinchy. I hate all the plastic and the anticipation and the disappointment and the money spent. Who knew I'd become so much like my Reed College self--particulalry particular and a bit on the judgemental side. There was so much stuff for Z that even she who is always cheerful and patient started to shove aside one present for the next. Not my favorite kid behavior.
Progress:
My syllabi are about 75% done. I plan to finish them tonight or tomorrow. 3 is a lot of preps I just now realize. I really want these syllabi to have imagined every contingency but I know there will be details I missed. Still, I'm excited for the readings and I think the pace of the class will be much more reasonable this time semester.
I can't wait to hear from folks about their MLA successes. I hope good news for all of them although I think this was a pretty rough year. I feel I'm pretty lucky to have the job I have.
All in all I'm looking forward to 2007.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
17 months
Dear Z,
You flew with us across the country to visit your grandparents and aunts and cousins. On the flight, you played with Dora toys and bricks and you drew with your pen and crayons and whatever else we’d let you draw with. No pen, any crayon, any pencil is safe around you. You’re pretty good at drawing on only paper though the couch and chair cushions have suffered a bit at your artistic strokes. On the second, shorter flight, you fell asleep in your dad’s lap right at 8 o’clock our time, your normal bedtime.
Yesterday, I put you down for a nap. You lay down with your bottle and blanket. You like your blanket on the side of your face, gripped in one hand, your other hand tossing your bottle back like a proper cowboy slogger. On my way to the bathroom, I stopped in to check on you. You weren’t asleep. You were sitting up poking your toe with the nipple of your bottle saying bob, bob, bob. On my way back from the bathroom, you had collapsed forward-face on top of your foot, on top of your bottle.
You have been sick on and off for a month. This has messed up your usual perfect sleeping record as well as your champion-of-the-strange-food-eating habits. But when you’re well, you still eat onions and pickles and you still hate mashed potatoes and guacamole. The last two items make us wonder how very adopted you must be. You like steak and fish and sausage and bacon. Your grandma laments you’re not a vegetarian like she is but if you keep not liking guacamole she’s not sure how you’d survive if you go that way anyway. Perhaps on black beans.
Right now, you have convinced your aunt Joy to feed you Honey Nut Cheerios one by one. Sometimes you take it and put it in your mouth. Sometimes, you just open your mouth until she inserts a Cheerio vending machine style. Sometimes you take one and chuck it across the room. This game could last until lunch. Joy’s dog Sadie loves to lick your ears and wishes you would slide a Cheerio her way—but unlike Cleo this dog isn’t allowed to eat every and anything you give her.
You wear a lot of hemp pants. Your grandma hemmed them for you and now you don’t look like an unbalanced yogi. At least not so much. You resemble most one of the Teletubbies—you particularly like to reveal your tummy as if there’s a TV in there. And we watch. Who knows what that belly button may do?
You’re working out spatial relationships. You just sat down to sit on Joy’s lap. Sadly, you were about two feet away from the lap Just like with steps, you turn around to sit down and then crawl backwards to get over the danger parts.
Speaking of characters, you drag your blanky around like Linus. You always know where it is and point your way down the hall, up the stairs, or toward your crib until we follow and get it for you.
Since you’ve been back in Salt Lake you’ve played Little People with Lil and Maestra, the Great States game with Cam, Nick Jr. on the computer with Grandma and Grandpa. Shopping for you for Christmas, your Maestra, grandma and grandpa and aunts have raised the holiday retail numbers to come in above expectation.
You say Box and Dog and Hi and Mom and Dad, or rather (da da da da) and a whole lot of almost words that I refuse to credit to your knowledge account. Your dad, however, is convinced you also say bottle, blanket, chocolate, shovel (Thanks Michigan!), kitty and diaper. You know the words but your tongue hasn’t quite caught up. When you’re happy and playing by yourself and discovering how to open and close doors, playing with lids, and sorting change, you say “Ahhhhhhhh-uh, ahhh-uh.” Ahhh (low pitched and long), uh (highly pitched and short).
Re: the capping. We think you have a promising career as a Laverne and Shirley type: you put caps on bottles, quality control, and your dad likes beer—a natural career choice we think. You also do a mean Schlamiel, Schlamazel Hassencratz Incorporated while kicking her Teletubby legs.
You’re a very busy baby. Even when you’re sick. Happy Seventeen Month birthday. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May the next year bring you even more love, if that’s possible, and a lot more health. We love you, mom & dad.
You flew with us across the country to visit your grandparents and aunts and cousins. On the flight, you played with Dora toys and bricks and you drew with your pen and crayons and whatever else we’d let you draw with. No pen, any crayon, any pencil is safe around you. You’re pretty good at drawing on only paper though the couch and chair cushions have suffered a bit at your artistic strokes. On the second, shorter flight, you fell asleep in your dad’s lap right at 8 o’clock our time, your normal bedtime.
Yesterday, I put you down for a nap. You lay down with your bottle and blanket. You like your blanket on the side of your face, gripped in one hand, your other hand tossing your bottle back like a proper cowboy slogger. On my way to the bathroom, I stopped in to check on you. You weren’t asleep. You were sitting up poking your toe with the nipple of your bottle saying bob, bob, bob. On my way back from the bathroom, you had collapsed forward-face on top of your foot, on top of your bottle.
You have been sick on and off for a month. This has messed up your usual perfect sleeping record as well as your champion-of-the-strange-food-eating habits. But when you’re well, you still eat onions and pickles and you still hate mashed potatoes and guacamole. The last two items make us wonder how very adopted you must be. You like steak and fish and sausage and bacon. Your grandma laments you’re not a vegetarian like she is but if you keep not liking guacamole she’s not sure how you’d survive if you go that way anyway. Perhaps on black beans.
Right now, you have convinced your aunt Joy to feed you Honey Nut Cheerios one by one. Sometimes you take it and put it in your mouth. Sometimes, you just open your mouth until she inserts a Cheerio vending machine style. Sometimes you take one and chuck it across the room. This game could last until lunch. Joy’s dog Sadie loves to lick your ears and wishes you would slide a Cheerio her way—but unlike Cleo this dog isn’t allowed to eat every and anything you give her.
You wear a lot of hemp pants. Your grandma hemmed them for you and now you don’t look like an unbalanced yogi. At least not so much. You resemble most one of the Teletubbies—you particularly like to reveal your tummy as if there’s a TV in there. And we watch. Who knows what that belly button may do?
You’re working out spatial relationships. You just sat down to sit on Joy’s lap. Sadly, you were about two feet away from the lap Just like with steps, you turn around to sit down and then crawl backwards to get over the danger parts.
Speaking of characters, you drag your blanky around like Linus. You always know where it is and point your way down the hall, up the stairs, or toward your crib until we follow and get it for you.
Since you’ve been back in Salt Lake you’ve played Little People with Lil and Maestra, the Great States game with Cam, Nick Jr. on the computer with Grandma and Grandpa. Shopping for you for Christmas, your Maestra, grandma and grandpa and aunts have raised the holiday retail numbers to come in above expectation.
You say Box and Dog and Hi and Mom and Dad, or rather (da da da da) and a whole lot of almost words that I refuse to credit to your knowledge account. Your dad, however, is convinced you also say bottle, blanket, chocolate, shovel (Thanks Michigan!), kitty and diaper. You know the words but your tongue hasn’t quite caught up. When you’re happy and playing by yourself and discovering how to open and close doors, playing with lids, and sorting change, you say “Ahhhhhhhh-uh, ahhh-uh.” Ahhh (low pitched and long), uh (highly pitched and short).
Re: the capping. We think you have a promising career as a Laverne and Shirley type: you put caps on bottles, quality control, and your dad likes beer—a natural career choice we think. You also do a mean Schlamiel, Schlamazel Hassencratz Incorporated while kicking her Teletubby legs.
You’re a very busy baby. Even when you’re sick. Happy Seventeen Month birthday. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May the next year bring you even more love, if that’s possible, and a lot more health. We love you, mom & dad.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Halfway
I'm halfway packed. Still need to collect Z's nebulizer, her clothes, and her blanket, but even most of the ski-ware is packed. Egg's bringing his skis but if I ski, I'll rent because I hate my boots anyway and my skis are just plain old skis. Not orange Screams like Egg's.
Today, poetizing with poets.
Tomorrow, we fly.
Workplan for home visit: write review, develop course description for Studies in.... Course, write novel, new book of essays, old book of essays and new book of poems about plastic. Oh, and prepare syllabi for three classes--adv. NF, adv Poetry, and intro to CRWR. Sound like a break? It does to me. I figure if I work from 10-2 3 days a week, I can get most of that done. And, compared to teaching, it's not real work.
I can't wait to see my mom and sisters and my niece and nephew. And spend time with Zo. Ah, 4 weeks of break. May I luck into as much again.
Today, poetizing with poets.
Tomorrow, we fly.
Workplan for home visit: write review, develop course description for Studies in.... Course, write novel, new book of essays, old book of essays and new book of poems about plastic. Oh, and prepare syllabi for three classes--adv. NF, adv Poetry, and intro to CRWR. Sound like a break? It does to me. I figure if I work from 10-2 3 days a week, I can get most of that done. And, compared to teaching, it's not real work.
I can't wait to see my mom and sisters and my niece and nephew. And spend time with Zo. Ah, 4 weeks of break. May I luck into as much again.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Thought I was going to make it
but I'm not going to make it this final week. Last week, it was 40 degrees warmer than it is right now. Last week, my students were congenial and present. This week, the emails promising absences are mounting. Last week, I was ready to throw all my clothes in a bag and get on an airplane. This week, we're realizing that Z won't sit on our laps for 5 minutes, let alone the many-lay-overed plane ride ahead. Last week, I had visions of writing and reading and sleeping in. This week, I realize that there are only so many days til Christmas and shopping hasn't even begun. Last week, I was all hepped up on pure, natural adrenaline. This week, I'm pretty sure someone has been putting quaaludes in my coffee, making me simultaneously, artificially wired and tired.
Oh, it has snowed over 3 inches just since I've been on campus for a final last week:
Last week, I slept in my own bed. This week, the floor of my office beckons. They pretend to have snowplows in this very snowy region but Salt Lake would never let the roads be so slick and dangerous. They are plow monsters in that city. If I survive the flight home, I promise to complain less next week.
Oh, it has snowed over 3 inches just since I've been on campus for a final last week:
Last week, I slept in my own bed. This week, the floor of my office beckons. They pretend to have snowplows in this very snowy region but Salt Lake would never let the roads be so slick and dangerous. They are plow monsters in that city. If I survive the flight home, I promise to complain less next week.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Extra Credit
Yes I'll give you extra credit. No, not for putting a title on your paper. No, not for putting your name on your paper. Not for listing the criteria of the assignmnet and drawing arrows to your writing that show exactly how you met that criteria. No, not if you write which genre your piece is in. No, not if you show up on the last day of class. No, not if you make me a CD but I really would like one. No, not if you feed my cat over break.
But yes if you make sense of something that did not make sense to me before. Yes if you read your work aloud in class. Yes if you tell me that I confused you all semester but that that confusion is beginning to take hold and make sense itself. I'll give you extra credit for getting rid of every time the word "tear" appears in your poem. I'll give you extra credit for deleting the last sentence of every story you wrote. I'll give you extra credit for explaining why your story is not a poem and your essay a story. I'll give you extra credit for using the word snake and ripple. For Tucson and strawberry. For synaesthesia by choice not by grammatical mistake.
But yes if you make sense of something that did not make sense to me before. Yes if you read your work aloud in class. Yes if you tell me that I confused you all semester but that that confusion is beginning to take hold and make sense itself. I'll give you extra credit for getting rid of every time the word "tear" appears in your poem. I'll give you extra credit for deleting the last sentence of every story you wrote. I'll give you extra credit for explaining why your story is not a poem and your essay a story. I'll give you extra credit for using the word snake and ripple. For Tucson and strawberry. For synaesthesia by choice not by grammatical mistake.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Ways in Which I Am An Asshole
A preThankgiving poem:
1. I can never hear the age of someone who had recent success and not calculate my age and success (or lack thereof) in comparison. Then I subtract years for my "rich" (as in untoward) past, my "real world experience" (I managed computers) and add successes such as got the oil changed, made breakfast, and washed all the dishes. For example: Parker Posey is older than I. By a bit. She's been in many movies. I've published some poems. She's being interviewed on Fresh Air. I am listening to Fresh Air. If I was on Fresh Air, I wouldn't say "you know" and "um" so much. She has been typed as Indie Actress. I haven't been typecast at all. My movie career is still wide open.
2. I must recount to Egg every time I wash a dish. Make note of it. Register in the Championship Spouse contest of which I am most certainly a winner because not only did I wash that dish, I made sure he noticed.
3. I noticed, but did not mention, that he changed the shower curtain, the lightbulb and Zo's sheets, therefore not adding points to his Championship column.
4. I'd rather be baking pie than teaching today. I love to teach but I haven't been able to cook all semester because of my late afternoon, early evening questions. And those pies aren't going to cook themselves. And, if Egg goes about cooking them, a) he'll get Championship points and b) they (the pies, not the points) could turn out weird. My students should add this class-having to their list of their own jerkish traits.
5. I am also mad at the students who walk in the crosswalk. And those who walk outside of it. I'm annoyed by cars when I'm in the crosswalk. But I've written of this before.
6. I am glad the in-laws are coming so Zo, she-who-must-always-be-carried, can be carried by someone else.
7. I am secretly looking forward to Zo not letting them hold her, or at least, not when I'm around.
8. I am a huge hypocrit because I decry those mamas' babies. And Z isn't one. Usually.
9. Because I'm going to have my students write an I'm-an-asshole list and call it a poem.
10. Because today, of all days, I will give them rules and then proceed to break them (the rules, not the students.)
1. I can never hear the age of someone who had recent success and not calculate my age and success (or lack thereof) in comparison. Then I subtract years for my "rich" (as in untoward) past, my "real world experience" (I managed computers) and add successes such as got the oil changed, made breakfast, and washed all the dishes. For example: Parker Posey is older than I. By a bit. She's been in many movies. I've published some poems. She's being interviewed on Fresh Air. I am listening to Fresh Air. If I was on Fresh Air, I wouldn't say "you know" and "um" so much. She has been typed as Indie Actress. I haven't been typecast at all. My movie career is still wide open.
2. I must recount to Egg every time I wash a dish. Make note of it. Register in the Championship Spouse contest of which I am most certainly a winner because not only did I wash that dish, I made sure he noticed.
3. I noticed, but did not mention, that he changed the shower curtain, the lightbulb and Zo's sheets, therefore not adding points to his Championship column.
4. I'd rather be baking pie than teaching today. I love to teach but I haven't been able to cook all semester because of my late afternoon, early evening questions. And those pies aren't going to cook themselves. And, if Egg goes about cooking them, a) he'll get Championship points and b) they (the pies, not the points) could turn out weird. My students should add this class-having to their list of their own jerkish traits.
5. I am also mad at the students who walk in the crosswalk. And those who walk outside of it. I'm annoyed by cars when I'm in the crosswalk. But I've written of this before.
6. I am glad the in-laws are coming so Zo, she-who-must-always-be-carried, can be carried by someone else.
7. I am secretly looking forward to Zo not letting them hold her, or at least, not when I'm around.
8. I am a huge hypocrit because I decry those mamas' babies. And Z isn't one. Usually.
9. Because I'm going to have my students write an I'm-an-asshole list and call it a poem.
10. Because today, of all days, I will give them rules and then proceed to break them (the rules, not the students.)
Friday, November 17, 2006
The All Clear
Zoe's been given the all clear by her doctor. I'm not sure what that means but I think it means we won't have to beg and plead that she not be admitted to the hospital. I fear we sound crazy when we object, but she always sounds bad-congested, wheezy. Everyone says so. She has been diagnosed with recurrent respiratory something or the other. The almost-asthma that is not asthma. So she sounds like she breathes rapidly and thickly so often that we can tell when she's getting better and when she's getting worse. That we know how many ribs to count per reticulated breath and whether the nose flares or not suggests that we know, or at least could tell this week, that she seemed to be getting better not worse. And the hospital, from our experience, doesn't really help. It's good for monitoring but that's about it. Still, it was pretty awkward trying to tell the doctors that we didn't agree with them. They're a powerful force. I feel crappy even writing about it. But next week, when we take her in without a cold (if there's any justice at all) and the doctor hears her loud breathing even when 90% healthy, hopefully he won't panic next time.
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