Christmas Day means more than Christmas Day for me now. And it's all because of Robert's proposal. We were engaged the morning of Christmas Day last year, so we celebrated an uncommon anniversary this year. Poor Robert seemed disappointed at first that we have been engaged for over a year and still have five months to go before the wedding. But, I keep reassuring him that, although I'm ready to be married to him as well, we made the smartest decision and will reap the benefits of taking our time. We got the first pick of our date (Memorial Day weekend, an extremely popular date), and we got the first pick of our venues (the only Catholic church in town for the ceremony and the nicest hotel in the area for the reception).
This morning I was reminiscing. This time last year, on December 29th, Robert and I were visiting local family and friends to show off the ring and to celebrate our engagement. He and I went to Johnny Carino's (which has apparently shut down here due to some sort of drug crime or other), had a delicious Italian dinner, and started one of our many future wedding planning talks. In the course of this conversation, we figured out how many people would be in our bridal party, what our preferred dates would be, where we would like the ceremony and reception to be held, and what sorts of "themes" we would prefer. Of course, as we learned, deciding upon the date of your wedding depends entirely upon the availability of your preferred venues. We only have one Catholic church here, and, with me being a born and raised Roman Catholic, it went without saying that I wanted a Catholic ceremony. We made an appointment with the priest after the first of the year (literally the day the church office reopened after the holidays), and we met with him to discuss dates. Robert and I have a lot of out-of-town guests (more than two-thirds), and we wanted to hold our wedding on a long weekend for their sake. Our priest looked at his calendar, we looked at ours, and that's how we decided upon May 23, 2009.
(Funny little factoid: in the course of our conversation this time last year, I had said off-handed, "So, basically, we'll have save-the-dates, too, which will say our date, like May 23, 2009. Ha...wouldn't it be funny if we did get married on May 23rd?" This was before I knew it was a Saturday. And this was before I knew it was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. Neat how those little things work out...it's like I always knew our anniversary would be May 23rd.)
The priest penciled in our names on his calendar but explained that, until the deposit had been received, we were not guaranteed the date. He told us we were the first couple to approach him for this date (a year and a half in advance, mind), so we'd get first dibs, but we'd need to make the deposit soon. That meant that we had to find a reception site fast, too. A few days after our initial meeting, the priest called me and left a message saying, "Hi Amanda, I wanted you to know that I've just spoken to three other couples who are interested in May 23, 2009. Please let me know if you still want this date." I called him back immediately, secured the date, and dashed over there with the deposit. We ran a risk now because we had a church but no reception site, so with bated breath we toured a couple of hotels. Fortunately, these same three couples who were interested in the only Catholic church in town had not yet approached the hotels. We were the first to ask for May 23 at our hotel of choice, secured it a week later with a deposit, and then the entire process began.
When we told our (unmarried) friends that we had our date and venues set, they were humored by how fast we acted. "Why are you doing this a year and a half before the wedding? Aren't you jumping the gun?" Nope. Not when you're getting married in a small town on one of the most popular wedding weekends in the height of wedding season.
So, that said, why not May 24, 2008 (Memorial Day weekend)? Or August 30, 2008 (Labor Day weekend)? Well, we considered these dates. I had a problem with Labor Day weekend for a couple of reasons. The first is that it's only a couple of days after my sister's birthday, and I didn't want to take away from her celebration. The second is that it's at the beginning of the semester, and I wasn't sure how logical it would be to try to move, get married, and begin teaching classes in the same month. Our problem with Memorial Day weekend this year was that it would have only given us five months to plan, and we would likely have not had as nice a wedding as we're having. And we'd probably not be able to pick the venues we did.
Are we tired of waiting for our wedding day to come? Yeah, pretty much. But has it helped us to have so much ample time to plan? Absolutely.
When we returned home after our trip to Breckenridge and Atlanta (which I'll write about later), Robert said, "On our drive back, all I could think about was how tomorrow morning will be the first time in two weeks that I won't get to wake up and see you first thing in the morning." No, we didn't bunk up on our vacation. But we were able to spend our mornings together after crawling out of our beds. The realization hadn't hit me yet and saddened me...but I'm also excited to know that neither of us were annoyed with each other or tired of seeing each other.
Is it May 23, yet? :)
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Save-the-date magnets! :D
Three weeks ago, I wrote an entry about how we weren't going to be able to order the save-the-date magnets, and I was devastated (Miniscule things that don't matter...mattering). It was something I had been looking forward to since at least last January when we first saw save-the-date magnets advertised at one of the bridal expos we went to. I was sure it was too late to order them once we had missed the original deadline I had set; all of my mom's wedding planning books said it would be too late.
Well, when Robert and I went to my parents' home for Thanksgiving weekend, we did get a lot of planning done, which included finalizing all guests lists and their addresses. Everyone saw how disappointed I was about not getting these magnets, and somehow it happened that we were able to order them. Now, they don't have the engagement photo on them that we had wanted--our photographer never returned my e-mail asking about how to order the copyright for a photo so we could put it on the save-the-date magnet. So, we went with another design...which I just received in the mail this afternoon. Originally, I wasn't going to open the box until Robert got back from work, but he told me to go ahead...since my head was about to burst from the excitement. As soon as I made sure they looked good, I put mine up on the fridge:
I really love them so much! :) Our theme for the wedding is basically to exploit Spring to its fullest, which means lots of daisies...and because they're my favorite flower. It's a good excuse. :) I really hope I can have a bouquet filled with daisies (likely white tied with a pretty purple satin ribbon). We'll see what we come up with. But I just love the save-the-dates.
They will technically be kind of late, but I know our guests won't be bothered by it. Robert and I are going to get together after he gets out of work to address the envelopes, and then we'll bring them with us to my parents' house on Wednesday. Mom has offered to mail them out and pay for postage, which really helps a lot.
Consider Amanda happy. And more relaxed. Now the next obstacle to tackle are the bridesmaid dress orders. I was going to call the salon yesterday, but I got so caught up in studying that I forgot about it until after they were closed. And they're not open on Mondays. Tomorrow is the last day for the orders to be made, so I'm going to call sometime in the afternoon to check that we've got everyone's orders in. I know a few of my bridesmaids had mailed in checks and are a little concerned that their money was received, so I'm going to check on that for them. It seems like everything is starting to come together! :)
Turns out wedding planning is a lot like grad school. You are given a monumental list of tasks to complete by a seemingly impossible deadline, but miraculously everything comes together and gets done.
Well, when Robert and I went to my parents' home for Thanksgiving weekend, we did get a lot of planning done, which included finalizing all guests lists and their addresses. Everyone saw how disappointed I was about not getting these magnets, and somehow it happened that we were able to order them. Now, they don't have the engagement photo on them that we had wanted--our photographer never returned my e-mail asking about how to order the copyright for a photo so we could put it on the save-the-date magnet. So, we went with another design...which I just received in the mail this afternoon. Originally, I wasn't going to open the box until Robert got back from work, but he told me to go ahead...since my head was about to burst from the excitement. As soon as I made sure they looked good, I put mine up on the fridge:
I really love them so much! :) Our theme for the wedding is basically to exploit Spring to its fullest, which means lots of daisies...and because they're my favorite flower. It's a good excuse. :) I really hope I can have a bouquet filled with daisies (likely white tied with a pretty purple satin ribbon). We'll see what we come up with. But I just love the save-the-dates.
They will technically be kind of late, but I know our guests won't be bothered by it. Robert and I are going to get together after he gets out of work to address the envelopes, and then we'll bring them with us to my parents' house on Wednesday. Mom has offered to mail them out and pay for postage, which really helps a lot.
Consider Amanda happy. And more relaxed. Now the next obstacle to tackle are the bridesmaid dress orders. I was going to call the salon yesterday, but I got so caught up in studying that I forgot about it until after they were closed. And they're not open on Mondays. Tomorrow is the last day for the orders to be made, so I'm going to call sometime in the afternoon to check that we've got everyone's orders in. I know a few of my bridesmaids had mailed in checks and are a little concerned that their money was received, so I'm going to check on that for them. It seems like everything is starting to come together! :)
Turns out wedding planning is a lot like grad school. You are given a monumental list of tasks to complete by a seemingly impossible deadline, but miraculously everything comes together and gets done.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
And in the silence, only buzzing is heard
My cell phone has been ringing off the hook today. And it's no surprise--my day has been fairly busy. After going to bed around 4 a.m., I awoke around 9 a.m., took my shower, packed a lunch and a snack, ate breakfast, packed my study bag full of books, and gathered my necessary bakeware for the French toast casserole I promised Robert I'd make today. I'm making the French toast casserole for an office party he's attending tomorrow morning, but it takes a day to chill in the refrigerator, hence the early preparation. I decided to cook in Robert's duplex for ease of travel (I need, and don't have, a convenient casserole dish carrier). So, I arrived around 10:45 and made the French toast casserole until 11:30. I left, caught the bus, and went to the library for a day of studying.
While on the bus, I decided to call my bridal shop to check on my bridesmaids' dress orders. Just my sister has her ordered so far, which nearly sent me into heart palpitations (dramatic, perhaps, but remember I'm sleep-deprived and reading 300 books in about two months' time). I also got information for my flower girl dress, but was on the bus, so I couldn't check the website like they wanted me to. I made it to the library, texting Robert the whole time to keep him informed on my progress (it's his cousin's daughter who will be the flower girl), and then made it to a computer to check the dress website to verify the order. I called my bridal shop again and placed the official order (well, sort of...she wrote down the style information and Robert's cousin will place the actual order with measurements and deposit). As I was on the phone with them, lo and behold, one of my bridesmaids was in the shop trying on the dress and getting measured! So, now I have two out of seven bridesmaids dresses ordered. I'm still feeling frantic, but slightly less so.
My bridesmaid who ordered her dress while I was on the phone with the shop (which is located about 2 and a half hours away from me, so I can't just hop over easily) texted me immediately to tell me she'd just placed her order. So, I've been receiving excited texts from her (she loves the dress! Yay!) and from Robert as well.
My phone just keeps buzzing.
To be a bride and a student...it's proving to be an exercise in multitasking. Fortunately I have Robert and both our families to support me through it all.
I'm relieved and trying to take it a day at a time.
Although perhaps I should silence my phone just out of courtesy...the buzzing seems to be bothering my fellow grad students.
While on the bus, I decided to call my bridal shop to check on my bridesmaids' dress orders. Just my sister has her ordered so far, which nearly sent me into heart palpitations (dramatic, perhaps, but remember I'm sleep-deprived and reading 300 books in about two months' time). I also got information for my flower girl dress, but was on the bus, so I couldn't check the website like they wanted me to. I made it to the library, texting Robert the whole time to keep him informed on my progress (it's his cousin's daughter who will be the flower girl), and then made it to a computer to check the dress website to verify the order. I called my bridal shop again and placed the official order (well, sort of...she wrote down the style information and Robert's cousin will place the actual order with measurements and deposit). As I was on the phone with them, lo and behold, one of my bridesmaids was in the shop trying on the dress and getting measured! So, now I have two out of seven bridesmaids dresses ordered. I'm still feeling frantic, but slightly less so.
My bridesmaid who ordered her dress while I was on the phone with the shop (which is located about 2 and a half hours away from me, so I can't just hop over easily) texted me immediately to tell me she'd just placed her order. So, I've been receiving excited texts from her (she loves the dress! Yay!) and from Robert as well.
My phone just keeps buzzing.
To be a bride and a student...it's proving to be an exercise in multitasking. Fortunately I have Robert and both our families to support me through it all.
I'm relieved and trying to take it a day at a time.
Although perhaps I should silence my phone just out of courtesy...the buzzing seems to be bothering my fellow grad students.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
And...sidebar
Thursday, Robert and I went to the stationary store and bought our invitations. I'm excited because we should be seeing a proof in about a week. The save-the-date magnets will arrive sometime next week as well.
Also, I am working on passing the responsibilities more fully on to Robert. And, of course, he is not disappointing me. :) I have been so relaxed now that he's taking over some more. I know it's not traditional for the groom to be much involved during the planning process, but Robert has been an equal partner since the very beginning. In fact, aside from my dress shopping, I haven't made a single meeting or decision without him. That fact makes me happy.
And, once again, I'm nearly dissolved into a puddle of relaxation and love for this man. :)
Also, I am working on passing the responsibilities more fully on to Robert. And, of course, he is not disappointing me. :) I have been so relaxed now that he's taking over some more. I know it's not traditional for the groom to be much involved during the planning process, but Robert has been an equal partner since the very beginning. In fact, aside from my dress shopping, I haven't made a single meeting or decision without him. That fact makes me happy.
And, once again, I'm nearly dissolved into a puddle of relaxation and love for this man. :)
My surprisingly special day
This whole weekend was supposed to be annoying and generally bad. But my fiancé did not allow it. Thursday night I went to the library at 6 p.m. and left at 4 a.m., getting to bed at 4:30. I'll likely have a similar schedule tomorrow evening. I canceled Friday's class for the sake of sleeping in (despite the fact that I teach at 2 and 3 p.m.) and in order to get more work done. My plan for this weekend was to finish typing up all my notes on Saturday and take Sunday off. I was preparing to be intellectually exhausted and overstimulated. Here's what Robert ensured happened:
On Friday afternoon, we decided to have dinner together because we hadn't seen each other for an extended amount of time since Sunday evening. I reached my study goals by late Friday afternoon and hit a wall. I took a short power nap and woke up calling Robert to make our dinner plans. I literally wasn't fully awake while we were talking--I think what happened was that I was dreaming about needing to make our plans and then I sort of just barely awoke to find myself calling Robert. He came over and said, "I want to treat you to a nice dinner and drinks because I think you deserve it." It really touched me that he wanted to reward my studying with a nice date. We went out for dinner, drinks, and later to Marble Slab for ice cream...in 30-degree weather, lol. But it was delicious! I had trouble getting to sleep on Friday night, even after taking two Unisom, and ended up going through another couple of books waiting for the Unisom to kick in.
On Saturday, I typed up my notes. Robert wanted me to come over and watch the SEC Championship game, but I wasn't sure that I would get finished with everything in time to take the evening off. Sure enough, knowing I had Robert's full support and compassion, I was able to push forward and complete my goal: reading another seven books and typing all the notes for those books. I went over to the duplex (my future home) to watch the game and hang out with Robert and his friends.
This morning, my surprisingly special day, Robert and I went to his parents' house for breakfast. His mom made scrambled eggs, bacon, and Robert helped her make pancakes. His mother and father had already eaten breakfast, but they had Robert and me over anyway--it just made me feel so good. It's moments like that when I feel excited and blessed to join this family. They've welcomed me in so many ways, and continue to...it just means a lot. After breakfast, Robert and I went to my apartment--earlier in the week, he offered to help decorate for Christmas. In a moment of pure exhaustion (nearly falling asleep on the phone with him), I told him Tuesday night that I wasn't going to put up my Christmas decorations this year. His response was so much stronger than I could have ever anticipated. He truly understands how much I love this holiday and how deeply disappointing it would be for me not to decorate in some way. When I made my little announcement, he responded with, "What? No, babe...you can't not decorate!" I explained to him that I couldn't decorate this year...I'm too tired and too stressed and busy that it just wouldn't make sense to decorate. I wouldn't enjoy it. He replied, "I'm going to come over, and we're going to decorate together." That's all it took. That's all I needed. What's funny is that I didn't even know I needed it because I didn't even think to ask him...but once he made his offer to help me decorate, I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.
So, we parted with his parents for a little while and went back to my apartment. We were going to get back together with them to pick out the family Christmas tree, but in the meantime we ended up not decorating for Christmas but planning the honeymoon instead. It was so much fun! After we picked out the family tree, Robert and I had lunch, and then went to the bookstore to look for travel guides. We came back to my apartment to actually decorate and do some more honeymoon planning. Robert decorated the entire tree while I set out the nativity set (the new one that I got from my parents for Christmas last year--Willow Tree!!) and my Department 56 houses.
My apartment looks like Christmas now because of my wonderful fiancé. My mind and emotions are at peace because of my wonderful fiancé. I feel relaxed and confident and prepared to take on the next week because of my wonderful fiancé.
I guess the secret is out. Amanda loves Robert. ;)
On Friday afternoon, we decided to have dinner together because we hadn't seen each other for an extended amount of time since Sunday evening. I reached my study goals by late Friday afternoon and hit a wall. I took a short power nap and woke up calling Robert to make our dinner plans. I literally wasn't fully awake while we were talking--I think what happened was that I was dreaming about needing to make our plans and then I sort of just barely awoke to find myself calling Robert. He came over and said, "I want to treat you to a nice dinner and drinks because I think you deserve it." It really touched me that he wanted to reward my studying with a nice date. We went out for dinner, drinks, and later to Marble Slab for ice cream...in 30-degree weather, lol. But it was delicious! I had trouble getting to sleep on Friday night, even after taking two Unisom, and ended up going through another couple of books waiting for the Unisom to kick in.
On Saturday, I typed up my notes. Robert wanted me to come over and watch the SEC Championship game, but I wasn't sure that I would get finished with everything in time to take the evening off. Sure enough, knowing I had Robert's full support and compassion, I was able to push forward and complete my goal: reading another seven books and typing all the notes for those books. I went over to the duplex (my future home) to watch the game and hang out with Robert and his friends.
This morning, my surprisingly special day, Robert and I went to his parents' house for breakfast. His mom made scrambled eggs, bacon, and Robert helped her make pancakes. His mother and father had already eaten breakfast, but they had Robert and me over anyway--it just made me feel so good. It's moments like that when I feel excited and blessed to join this family. They've welcomed me in so many ways, and continue to...it just means a lot. After breakfast, Robert and I went to my apartment--earlier in the week, he offered to help decorate for Christmas. In a moment of pure exhaustion (nearly falling asleep on the phone with him), I told him Tuesday night that I wasn't going to put up my Christmas decorations this year. His response was so much stronger than I could have ever anticipated. He truly understands how much I love this holiday and how deeply disappointing it would be for me not to decorate in some way. When I made my little announcement, he responded with, "What? No, babe...you can't not decorate!" I explained to him that I couldn't decorate this year...I'm too tired and too stressed and busy that it just wouldn't make sense to decorate. I wouldn't enjoy it. He replied, "I'm going to come over, and we're going to decorate together." That's all it took. That's all I needed. What's funny is that I didn't even know I needed it because I didn't even think to ask him...but once he made his offer to help me decorate, I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.
So, we parted with his parents for a little while and went back to my apartment. We were going to get back together with them to pick out the family Christmas tree, but in the meantime we ended up not decorating for Christmas but planning the honeymoon instead. It was so much fun! After we picked out the family tree, Robert and I had lunch, and then went to the bookstore to look for travel guides. We came back to my apartment to actually decorate and do some more honeymoon planning. Robert decorated the entire tree while I set out the nativity set (the new one that I got from my parents for Christmas last year--Willow Tree!!) and my Department 56 houses.
My apartment looks like Christmas now because of my wonderful fiancé. My mind and emotions are at peace because of my wonderful fiancé. I feel relaxed and confident and prepared to take on the next week because of my wonderful fiancé.
I guess the secret is out. Amanda loves Robert. ;)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
A list serves just as well
1. The holidays were nice because this year we spent Thanksgiving with both families...sort of. We went to Robert's family's house for Thanksgiving day, and then went to my parents' house for the Friday after. I'm glad we were able to spend it the way we did, and I think it'll be very interesting to see how we change our traditions after we're married.
2. We got lots of wedding planning done this weekend, things that needed to be done. We spent five hours at the breakfast table on Sunday morning going over guest lists, invitation particularities, and the wedding day itinerary. My mind is boggled but at least there's a calendar.
3. I graded 60 papers in about four hours, a record. I couldn't sleep on Saturday night because of all the upcoming stress, so I decided that instead of wasting time tossing and turning, it should be put to good use by grading the last 30 papers. I'm glad I got it done because now I just have to do their final exams and I'm done.
4. I have a new study schedule. I'm going to fill my rolling bag (something I bought for use before my back surgery because I couldn't carry heavy bags on my back any more) with as many books as it can carry (generally around ten or eleven), take it to the library or coffee shop and camp out until I've finished the bag. One day, one bag. That's the new rule. There are too many books to read and very little time left. My exams will be in February (written) and March (oral). The February exams are comprised of one major and two minors. The major exam (early English drama to 1642) is four hours long. The two minors (Shakespeare and general drama from antiquity to contemporary) are three hours long apiece. This totals out to ten hours of examination time. The exams are essays.
5. As it is December, I am officially no longer in bride mode (ha...). I am in student mode. I have already begun the process of removing the mantle of responsibility and passing it along to my mom, Robert, and his mom. They'll do fine. The wedding will be fine. In the meantime, I have to try to maintain mental stability through March.
2. We got lots of wedding planning done this weekend, things that needed to be done. We spent five hours at the breakfast table on Sunday morning going over guest lists, invitation particularities, and the wedding day itinerary. My mind is boggled but at least there's a calendar.
3. I graded 60 papers in about four hours, a record. I couldn't sleep on Saturday night because of all the upcoming stress, so I decided that instead of wasting time tossing and turning, it should be put to good use by grading the last 30 papers. I'm glad I got it done because now I just have to do their final exams and I'm done.
4. I have a new study schedule. I'm going to fill my rolling bag (something I bought for use before my back surgery because I couldn't carry heavy bags on my back any more) with as many books as it can carry (generally around ten or eleven), take it to the library or coffee shop and camp out until I've finished the bag. One day, one bag. That's the new rule. There are too many books to read and very little time left. My exams will be in February (written) and March (oral). The February exams are comprised of one major and two minors. The major exam (early English drama to 1642) is four hours long. The two minors (Shakespeare and general drama from antiquity to contemporary) are three hours long apiece. This totals out to ten hours of examination time. The exams are essays.
5. As it is December, I am officially no longer in bride mode (ha...). I am in student mode. I have already begun the process of removing the mantle of responsibility and passing it along to my mom, Robert, and his mom. They'll do fine. The wedding will be fine. In the meantime, I have to try to maintain mental stability through March.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Thinking more clearly now
A few months ago, my father bought me a book that I've refused to read. It's called The Female Brain by Dr. Louann Brizendine (neuropsychiatrist). I refused to read this book because of a few reasons. The first being that the cover is a tangle of curly-cue phone cords wrapped into the configuration of a brain. Although we are warned not to judge books by their covers, I'm not naive enough to believe that the covers are without their own messages. The photo of a phone cord sculpted to look like a brain under the title "The Female Brain" insulted me on the spot. I'm sure it was the publishers' attempt to be cute and marketable, but for their more astute female readers such an image is a slap.
Another reason that deterred me from the book is its endocrinological explanation for the female thought and emotional processes. Although I understand that, as humans, we are at the mercy of our hormonal balances, I do not believe in using this reliance as a crutch. I hate when women complain about their behavior, rubber stamp it as "PMS," and then continue behaving irrationally. I hate when men make these same excuses for women. I hate that it only seems to be women's endocrine systems under the microscope as of late rather than men's. Sure, the woman's hormonal fluctuations vary more widely and frequently than the man's, but that should not excuse us from looking at men. Research deserves to be done on them as well.
The final reason I refused to read the book in the beginning was the belief that I would be emotionally crippled by the opinions in the book. Despite my deepest abhorrence to excuses for my behavior, I will cling to them if it makes it easier on me...which might explain my abhorrence. I don't want to hear "it's not you, blame the Estrogen!" from anyone because I'm afraid that hearing that will lead me by the nose into a sort of infantile trust in a flawed system (particularly one that has been established by the patriarchal hegemony).
Last night, however, I sunk to the depths of desperation. I hung up the phone with Robert at around midnight and felt wide awake. We were attempting to consider my need to hang onto emotions so tightly...I told him about yesterday's blog entry, and that only after posting it did I finally start to feel more at peace. Through the course of our conversation, and by no fault of his, I felt increasingly despondent and self-hating. I could not understand what has been wrong with me, and I knew I would lie awake in bed all night if I didn't find something resembling an answer. So, I reluctantly took "The Female Brain" off the shelf, cried through the entire Introduction (simply because I was sure it wouldn't help me and that there was something truly wrong with me), and then flipped through the table of contents until I found something that seemed appropriate for my feelings: a chapter titled "Emotion: The Feeling Brain." I found the following quote particularly interesting:
"Anxiety is a state that occurs when stress or fear triggers the amygdala, causing the brain to rally all its conscious attention to the threat at hand. Anxiety is four times more common in women. A woman's highly responsive stress trigger allows her to become anxious much more quickly than does a man. Although this may not seem like an adaptive trait, it actually allows her brain to focus on the danger at hand and respond quickly to protect her children. Unfortunately, this intense sensitivity in adult women, as in teenage girls, means that they are nearly twice as likely as men to suffer from depression and anxiety, especially through their reproductive years. [...] While psychologists have emphasized cultural and social explanations for this 'depression gender gap,' more and more neuroscientists are finding that sensitivity to fear, stress, genes, estrogen, progesterone, and innate brain biology play important roles. Many gene variations and brain circuits that are affected by estrogen and serotonin are thought to increase women's risk of depression. The CREB-1 gene, which is different in some women diagnosed with depression, has a little switch that is turned on by estrogen. Scientists speculate that this may be one of several mechanisms by which women's vulnerability to depression turns on at puberty with the surges of progesterone and estrogen."
I wasn't angry all of Sunday evening. Yes, I was angry at some point on Sunday. But I feel that I'm understanding now that the emotional experience I struggled to move past was not motivated by anger but instead by a combination of anxiety and depression. Anxiety because now my plans are thrown up in the air and I have to problem solve when I already have a full plate of problems in need of solving. Depression because of the disappointment I felt in my family and in myself for my incapability of keeping them on task. If my brain is flooded with a hormone, I certainly can't change it, but I can understand it now and perhaps anticipate and become more proactive in how I calm down.
In yesterday's post, I expressed that Robert was upset because I was still so upset and that in the end I ruined our evening together. What happened was this: on Sunday evenings, I go over to the duplex to watch True Blood because he has HBO. Usually we're snuggling on the couch together. This Sunday, I didn't want to touch him. My unresponsiveness to his hand on my knee or his attempt to hold my hand or rub my leg hurt him. I wasn't intending to hurt him, but I truly had no interest in physical expressions of affection. While Robert sat there confused and hurt, I was confused as well. I expressed this yesterday in my post also when I wondered what else I could possibly want from my family who has already apologized. Why was I still punishing Robert? He apologized. I accepted his apology and forgave him. Why couldn't I feel affectionate toward him? Well...Dr. Brizendine has a suggestion.
"...male love circuits get an extra kick when stress levels are high. After an intense physical challenge, for instance, males will bond quickly and sexually with the first willing female they lay eyes on. This may be why military men under the stress of war often bring home brides. Women, by contrast, will rebuff advances or expressions of affection and desire when under stress. The reason may be that the stress hormone cortisol blocks oxytocin's action in the female brain, abruptly shutting off a woman's desire for sex and physical touch."
Oxytocin is, recent research is finding, a pleasure hormone in men and women. It helps us feel good and feel good about feeling good. If cortisol floods the brain and blocks the reception of pleasure, then a woman under the influence of cortisol seems to be less likely to find affectionate touch as affectionate as it is under "normal" circumstances. I would wager a pretty big bet that my brain was saturated with cortisol Sunday evening. I was feeling a great deal of stress at the thought of addressing a new stressful situation.
What I'm learning is that it does not matter so much if something seems trivial to other people. Others might look at my post from yesterday and think, "She's getting this bent out of shape over magnets?" That's fine. What matters is that I perceived it as a stressor, and perhaps even gave it additional weight because of the magnitude of stressors already influencing my life. It's the age-old "just one more thing gone wrong" situation.
I don't know if I'm ready yet to buy wholesale into the endocrinological theories, but to be fair, I haven't finished the book. I've read about half of it now. The ideas do help to offer some neurological explanations for my feelings. I was so caught up in the moral implications behind my behavior and feelings that I was only delving deeper into depressed feelings. Releasing cortisol in my brain does not make me a horrible person. It simply means that I am reacting to something perceived as a stressor, and the next step is to relieve that something of its perceived stressful nature.
The Female Brain maps out the hormonal changes and challenges the female brain undergoes throughout a lifetime, beginning in infancy and ending in the mature brain. It explains teenaged girls, single women who are looking for a relationship, pregnant women, nursing women, mothers, premenopausal women, menopausal women, and postmenopausal women. Even at this point with my knowledge of the book's theories so lacking, I would recommend reading it with a compassionate male. I'm bringing my book over to Robert's this evening so we can look at it closer together.
Another reason that deterred me from the book is its endocrinological explanation for the female thought and emotional processes. Although I understand that, as humans, we are at the mercy of our hormonal balances, I do not believe in using this reliance as a crutch. I hate when women complain about their behavior, rubber stamp it as "PMS," and then continue behaving irrationally. I hate when men make these same excuses for women. I hate that it only seems to be women's endocrine systems under the microscope as of late rather than men's. Sure, the woman's hormonal fluctuations vary more widely and frequently than the man's, but that should not excuse us from looking at men. Research deserves to be done on them as well.
The final reason I refused to read the book in the beginning was the belief that I would be emotionally crippled by the opinions in the book. Despite my deepest abhorrence to excuses for my behavior, I will cling to them if it makes it easier on me...which might explain my abhorrence. I don't want to hear "it's not you, blame the Estrogen!" from anyone because I'm afraid that hearing that will lead me by the nose into a sort of infantile trust in a flawed system (particularly one that has been established by the patriarchal hegemony).
Last night, however, I sunk to the depths of desperation. I hung up the phone with Robert at around midnight and felt wide awake. We were attempting to consider my need to hang onto emotions so tightly...I told him about yesterday's blog entry, and that only after posting it did I finally start to feel more at peace. Through the course of our conversation, and by no fault of his, I felt increasingly despondent and self-hating. I could not understand what has been wrong with me, and I knew I would lie awake in bed all night if I didn't find something resembling an answer. So, I reluctantly took "The Female Brain" off the shelf, cried through the entire Introduction (simply because I was sure it wouldn't help me and that there was something truly wrong with me), and then flipped through the table of contents until I found something that seemed appropriate for my feelings: a chapter titled "Emotion: The Feeling Brain." I found the following quote particularly interesting:
"Anxiety is a state that occurs when stress or fear triggers the amygdala, causing the brain to rally all its conscious attention to the threat at hand. Anxiety is four times more common in women. A woman's highly responsive stress trigger allows her to become anxious much more quickly than does a man. Although this may not seem like an adaptive trait, it actually allows her brain to focus on the danger at hand and respond quickly to protect her children. Unfortunately, this intense sensitivity in adult women, as in teenage girls, means that they are nearly twice as likely as men to suffer from depression and anxiety, especially through their reproductive years. [...] While psychologists have emphasized cultural and social explanations for this 'depression gender gap,' more and more neuroscientists are finding that sensitivity to fear, stress, genes, estrogen, progesterone, and innate brain biology play important roles. Many gene variations and brain circuits that are affected by estrogen and serotonin are thought to increase women's risk of depression. The CREB-1 gene, which is different in some women diagnosed with depression, has a little switch that is turned on by estrogen. Scientists speculate that this may be one of several mechanisms by which women's vulnerability to depression turns on at puberty with the surges of progesterone and estrogen."
I wasn't angry all of Sunday evening. Yes, I was angry at some point on Sunday. But I feel that I'm understanding now that the emotional experience I struggled to move past was not motivated by anger but instead by a combination of anxiety and depression. Anxiety because now my plans are thrown up in the air and I have to problem solve when I already have a full plate of problems in need of solving. Depression because of the disappointment I felt in my family and in myself for my incapability of keeping them on task. If my brain is flooded with a hormone, I certainly can't change it, but I can understand it now and perhaps anticipate and become more proactive in how I calm down.
In yesterday's post, I expressed that Robert was upset because I was still so upset and that in the end I ruined our evening together. What happened was this: on Sunday evenings, I go over to the duplex to watch True Blood because he has HBO. Usually we're snuggling on the couch together. This Sunday, I didn't want to touch him. My unresponsiveness to his hand on my knee or his attempt to hold my hand or rub my leg hurt him. I wasn't intending to hurt him, but I truly had no interest in physical expressions of affection. While Robert sat there confused and hurt, I was confused as well. I expressed this yesterday in my post also when I wondered what else I could possibly want from my family who has already apologized. Why was I still punishing Robert? He apologized. I accepted his apology and forgave him. Why couldn't I feel affectionate toward him? Well...Dr. Brizendine has a suggestion.
"...male love circuits get an extra kick when stress levels are high. After an intense physical challenge, for instance, males will bond quickly and sexually with the first willing female they lay eyes on. This may be why military men under the stress of war often bring home brides. Women, by contrast, will rebuff advances or expressions of affection and desire when under stress. The reason may be that the stress hormone cortisol blocks oxytocin's action in the female brain, abruptly shutting off a woman's desire for sex and physical touch."
Oxytocin is, recent research is finding, a pleasure hormone in men and women. It helps us feel good and feel good about feeling good. If cortisol floods the brain and blocks the reception of pleasure, then a woman under the influence of cortisol seems to be less likely to find affectionate touch as affectionate as it is under "normal" circumstances. I would wager a pretty big bet that my brain was saturated with cortisol Sunday evening. I was feeling a great deal of stress at the thought of addressing a new stressful situation.
What I'm learning is that it does not matter so much if something seems trivial to other people. Others might look at my post from yesterday and think, "She's getting this bent out of shape over magnets?" That's fine. What matters is that I perceived it as a stressor, and perhaps even gave it additional weight because of the magnitude of stressors already influencing my life. It's the age-old "just one more thing gone wrong" situation.
I don't know if I'm ready yet to buy wholesale into the endocrinological theories, but to be fair, I haven't finished the book. I've read about half of it now. The ideas do help to offer some neurological explanations for my feelings. I was so caught up in the moral implications behind my behavior and feelings that I was only delving deeper into depressed feelings. Releasing cortisol in my brain does not make me a horrible person. It simply means that I am reacting to something perceived as a stressor, and the next step is to relieve that something of its perceived stressful nature.
The Female Brain maps out the hormonal changes and challenges the female brain undergoes throughout a lifetime, beginning in infancy and ending in the mature brain. It explains teenaged girls, single women who are looking for a relationship, pregnant women, nursing women, mothers, premenopausal women, menopausal women, and postmenopausal women. Even at this point with my knowledge of the book's theories so lacking, I would recommend reading it with a compassionate male. I'm bringing my book over to Robert's this evening so we can look at it closer together.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Miniscule things that don't matter...mattering
A year ago, something like this wouldn't have hit my radar. A year from now, something like this won't matter. Which means that it doesn't matter. It didn't matter a year ago, won't matter a year from now, and doesn't matter today.
But I'm finding that it's mattering. And that's unbelievably frustrating.
Remember that entry I wrote a little while ago outlining my to-do list? And remember how that whole to-do list required addresses before I could make a move on it? Well, here's my new bride-in-training lesson: there are consequences to every (non-) action.
This blog is about the save-the-date magnets I wanted. See? Something stupid that doesn't matter.
Yesterday, I spent from 12 noon to 2:45 on the phone with my mom (although, admittedly, our conversation was broken into thirds because I called Robert twice). I was so exhausted by the end of the conversation that I could hardly think straight. Here's the problem. I asked my family, Robert, and his family to send me their final lists with addresses by the second week of November. I asked a month ago. Literally, a month ago. I wanted the addresses two weeks ago because I had wanted to order the save-the-dates by November 10th. My mom only just yesterday e-mailed me her addresses. Robert's finalizing his. His parents are finalizing theirs. I should have them by Wednesday this week.
But it's too late for the save-the-dates now.
We were supposed to send the save-the-dates out by December, which we could have done if I had received the addresses when I asked for them. Because we're getting married over Memorial Day weekend, and because everyone on my family's list is out-of-town and will need a hotel room, we have to mail out the invitations by the end of January so they'll be delivered by February. If we were to do the save-the-dates anyway, they would be delivered about a week ahead of the invitations. Why do that? What's the point?
I am upset. I'm trying to pinpoint why I'm still upset because I've heard and accepted apologies from both sides of the family for the past three weeks now. Robert was extremely upset last night (because I was so angry), so I ruined our evening together. I slept on it. I should be over it now. But I'm not. I'm still feeling angry every time I consider what happened.
The only thought that keeps running circles in my mind is this: I realize getting the addresses to me was not Number One on their priority list (although it was on mine). But to be so apologetic and to feel so sorry right now is too late--I wish they had had this much concern for the addresses when it still mattered.
That's a horrible and hurtful thought. But it's the only one I keep "hearing" in my mind.
And what do I want now? They've already apologized. I've accepted their apologies. What more could I possibly want from them that would assuage this feeling?
I'm disappointed because something I so looked forward to is no longer an option.
But it's frivolous.
This is stupid...but it's still affecting me.
I don't know why I'm not letting it go yet.
I told my mom and Robert yesterday that come December 1st, I am passing the buck. I am relinquishing all bridal duties and handing them over to other people to care about and worry about and fret about. I can't do it. I have exams in February (not sure the date yet), and I haven't even looked at one of my lists yet. From December 1st on to February, I am a student first. Other people can tell me what they need from me and lose it when I don't give it to them on time. *sigh* No, I wouldn't do that...but the thought has crossed my mind. I'm not quite that spiteful, though.
When I expressed this to my mom, she became immediately sympathetic and said, "honey, you know we're behind you and are very supportive of you." I know. I wanted to say, "Yes, but emotional support doesn't give me addresses in enough time to send out save-the-dates." I don't want to throw away the gift of emotional support...but at the same time, I need more than emotional support right now. I need physical support. I'm done with being commended for all the hard work I've done this year and how impressive it is that I've pushed through despite a number of obstacles. I'm done pushing through. I'm out of energy. I'm just going to get by now.
And hopefully the things that were in the top places on my priority list will find themselves in the top places on others' priority lists after December 1st.
But I'm finding that it's mattering. And that's unbelievably frustrating.
Remember that entry I wrote a little while ago outlining my to-do list? And remember how that whole to-do list required addresses before I could make a move on it? Well, here's my new bride-in-training lesson: there are consequences to every (non-) action.
This blog is about the save-the-date magnets I wanted. See? Something stupid that doesn't matter.
Yesterday, I spent from 12 noon to 2:45 on the phone with my mom (although, admittedly, our conversation was broken into thirds because I called Robert twice). I was so exhausted by the end of the conversation that I could hardly think straight. Here's the problem. I asked my family, Robert, and his family to send me their final lists with addresses by the second week of November. I asked a month ago. Literally, a month ago. I wanted the addresses two weeks ago because I had wanted to order the save-the-dates by November 10th. My mom only just yesterday e-mailed me her addresses. Robert's finalizing his. His parents are finalizing theirs. I should have them by Wednesday this week.
But it's too late for the save-the-dates now.
We were supposed to send the save-the-dates out by December, which we could have done if I had received the addresses when I asked for them. Because we're getting married over Memorial Day weekend, and because everyone on my family's list is out-of-town and will need a hotel room, we have to mail out the invitations by the end of January so they'll be delivered by February. If we were to do the save-the-dates anyway, they would be delivered about a week ahead of the invitations. Why do that? What's the point?
I am upset. I'm trying to pinpoint why I'm still upset because I've heard and accepted apologies from both sides of the family for the past three weeks now. Robert was extremely upset last night (because I was so angry), so I ruined our evening together. I slept on it. I should be over it now. But I'm not. I'm still feeling angry every time I consider what happened.
The only thought that keeps running circles in my mind is this: I realize getting the addresses to me was not Number One on their priority list (although it was on mine). But to be so apologetic and to feel so sorry right now is too late--I wish they had had this much concern for the addresses when it still mattered.
That's a horrible and hurtful thought. But it's the only one I keep "hearing" in my mind.
And what do I want now? They've already apologized. I've accepted their apologies. What more could I possibly want from them that would assuage this feeling?
I'm disappointed because something I so looked forward to is no longer an option.
But it's frivolous.
This is stupid...but it's still affecting me.
I don't know why I'm not letting it go yet.
I told my mom and Robert yesterday that come December 1st, I am passing the buck. I am relinquishing all bridal duties and handing them over to other people to care about and worry about and fret about. I can't do it. I have exams in February (not sure the date yet), and I haven't even looked at one of my lists yet. From December 1st on to February, I am a student first. Other people can tell me what they need from me and lose it when I don't give it to them on time. *sigh* No, I wouldn't do that...but the thought has crossed my mind. I'm not quite that spiteful, though.
When I expressed this to my mom, she became immediately sympathetic and said, "honey, you know we're behind you and are very supportive of you." I know. I wanted to say, "Yes, but emotional support doesn't give me addresses in enough time to send out save-the-dates." I don't want to throw away the gift of emotional support...but at the same time, I need more than emotional support right now. I need physical support. I'm done with being commended for all the hard work I've done this year and how impressive it is that I've pushed through despite a number of obstacles. I'm done pushing through. I'm out of energy. I'm just going to get by now.
And hopefully the things that were in the top places on my priority list will find themselves in the top places on others' priority lists after December 1st.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
And sometimes my students surprise me
Friday afternoon, I held my 2 p.m. class for all of 15 minutes. I collected their essays, passed out their final exam review sheets, and wished them a happy Thanksgiving. I figured my 3 p.m. class would be the same way.
At 2:56 p.m., the fire alarm started blaring. I was in my office, already gathering my course materials when it went off. Instead, I muttered a curse under my breath, grabbed my tote bag, my purse, all the course materials (that I normally wouldn't have brought with me), put on my sweater and scarf, and headed down the stairs. After five flights, I decided to check on my classroom, in case any early birds stayed in the classroom during the alarm. About three were in the room, so I motioned to them through the window to come downstairs with me, and we evacuated the building. In the short time it took me to go down eight flights of stairs, I brainstormed and problem-solved as best as one can when a siren is blasting one's already overly-sensitive eardrums. (Mine were overly-sensitive because yesterday I was experiencing an uncomfortable amount of pressure from the fluid that had accumulated during my illness earlier this week.) I set up shop against the wall on the concourse, ignoring the "safety squad" as they demanded that I move even further back. No, sorry, I knew I was safe. If I saw flames or smelled smoke, I would have moved even further back. I spread all the review sheets across the wall (there were three packets to pass out) and took up the three essays from the students who followed me. As they left, I asked them to pass the word along to their classmates, if they saw them, to find me on the concourse.
I didn't expect to see another student.
I stood out in the near-freezing temperatures, wind blowing to an annoying extent (how could I have forgotten to bring my paper weights?), and waited.
In the course of twenty minutes, I did in fact see additional waves of students, received their papers, and gave them their final exam review sheets. At one point, when I was sure I had seen the last of them (and still needed about 15 papers), I turned around and saw walking around the corner a flock of 10 students. Apparently one of my other students had called her classmate who was standing on the other side of the building with ten classmates. I was so grateful for their ability to find one another and pass the message along.
By 3:25, I had all 30 papers and was on my way to the transit to go home.
While I understand they had a vested interest in turning in their papers on time, I am also still grateful that they didn't flake out on me. I expected most of them to e-mail me, whining in some form or another. I was trying to come up with a plan B for this Thanksgiving holiday: do I accept their papers by e-mail? Do I want to print off 30 6-page papers on my personal printer? Do I give them an extension to the next Monday, even though my 2 p.m. class didn't get one? I'm grateful that I wasn't made to even give these questions any additional attention.
Sometimes my students choose to behave brainlessly. Sometimes they surprise me, though.
At 2:56 p.m., the fire alarm started blaring. I was in my office, already gathering my course materials when it went off. Instead, I muttered a curse under my breath, grabbed my tote bag, my purse, all the course materials (that I normally wouldn't have brought with me), put on my sweater and scarf, and headed down the stairs. After five flights, I decided to check on my classroom, in case any early birds stayed in the classroom during the alarm. About three were in the room, so I motioned to them through the window to come downstairs with me, and we evacuated the building. In the short time it took me to go down eight flights of stairs, I brainstormed and problem-solved as best as one can when a siren is blasting one's already overly-sensitive eardrums. (Mine were overly-sensitive because yesterday I was experiencing an uncomfortable amount of pressure from the fluid that had accumulated during my illness earlier this week.) I set up shop against the wall on the concourse, ignoring the "safety squad" as they demanded that I move even further back. No, sorry, I knew I was safe. If I saw flames or smelled smoke, I would have moved even further back. I spread all the review sheets across the wall (there were three packets to pass out) and took up the three essays from the students who followed me. As they left, I asked them to pass the word along to their classmates, if they saw them, to find me on the concourse.
I didn't expect to see another student.
I stood out in the near-freezing temperatures, wind blowing to an annoying extent (how could I have forgotten to bring my paper weights?), and waited.
In the course of twenty minutes, I did in fact see additional waves of students, received their papers, and gave them their final exam review sheets. At one point, when I was sure I had seen the last of them (and still needed about 15 papers), I turned around and saw walking around the corner a flock of 10 students. Apparently one of my other students had called her classmate who was standing on the other side of the building with ten classmates. I was so grateful for their ability to find one another and pass the message along.
By 3:25, I had all 30 papers and was on my way to the transit to go home.
While I understand they had a vested interest in turning in their papers on time, I am also still grateful that they didn't flake out on me. I expected most of them to e-mail me, whining in some form or another. I was trying to come up with a plan B for this Thanksgiving holiday: do I accept their papers by e-mail? Do I want to print off 30 6-page papers on my personal printer? Do I give them an extension to the next Monday, even though my 2 p.m. class didn't get one? I'm grateful that I wasn't made to even give these questions any additional attention.
Sometimes my students choose to behave brainlessly. Sometimes they surprise me, though.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
And now a word from our sponsors
Buy a PedEgg! Seriously!
Last night before bed, I completed part two of my foot rescue, lol. I love the way my feet feel now. :) They feel...normal. Lol. I think it was wearing flip flops for the past several months that destroyed my feet in general. But they are so soft and smooth now, which is a relief--I had almost thought that my feet were going to be horrible for the rest of my life. (My maternal family has a history of not having the best of feet, though I think in more recent generations we're taking better care of ourselves.)
*happy*
Okay, thus ends the infomercial. ;)
Last night before bed, I completed part two of my foot rescue, lol. I love the way my feet feel now. :) They feel...normal. Lol. I think it was wearing flip flops for the past several months that destroyed my feet in general. But they are so soft and smooth now, which is a relief--I had almost thought that my feet were going to be horrible for the rest of my life. (My maternal family has a history of not having the best of feet, though I think in more recent generations we're taking better care of ourselves.)
*happy*
Okay, thus ends the infomercial. ;)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Late-night girliness
As I was getting ready for bed, I decided to try out the new PedEgg I had bought the other day. I've been skeptical of it because, well, they sell it on TV...and it looks like a cheese grater for the feet. But the damn thing actually worked! And I guess rubbing a cheese grater on one's callouses should work, shouldn't it? The only thing is that you have to be very careful not to rub in the wrong direction. I caught it a little on my thumb (not really sure how that happened), and it took out a little chunk. Thank goodness I didn't do that to my feet!
But seriously, my feet feel wonderful. I need to do it again tonight after washing my feet because they're in such bad shape. I didn't want to do too much on the first try, but I can notice a real difference. After using the PedEgg, I rubbed my feet down with Bath and Body Works "Heel of Approval." I think it's a shea butter blend, and it's this great remedy to tough skin. I use it on my elbows as well. I slept in my thin socks to sort of seal in the lotion (rather than to let it get wiped off onto the sheets), and this morning...whew...feet of awesomeness. *happy* :D
So the moral to the story is that you should buy a PedEgg and give it a try. It's wonderful. :)
But seriously, my feet feel wonderful. I need to do it again tonight after washing my feet because they're in such bad shape. I didn't want to do too much on the first try, but I can notice a real difference. After using the PedEgg, I rubbed my feet down with Bath and Body Works "Heel of Approval." I think it's a shea butter blend, and it's this great remedy to tough skin. I use it on my elbows as well. I slept in my thin socks to sort of seal in the lotion (rather than to let it get wiped off onto the sheets), and this morning...whew...feet of awesomeness. *happy* :D
So the moral to the story is that you should buy a PedEgg and give it a try. It's wonderful. :)
Friday, November 14, 2008
Bizarro dreams from the sleep deprived
I don't know what's been wrong with me, but my dreams have been increasingly troubling lately--and they have troubled me so greatly that the quantity of hours no longer matters in the quality of my sleep. I know I'm under stress, but the lack of sleep certainly does not help in my stress level.
Over the past few days, I've had the following dreams:
1. Unable to find Robert
I don't remember great details about the dream, but I do know that I was at the university (or something like it), and I was trying desperately to find Robert. In the dream, he had an office either in the same building as mine or in the library. At first, I was on the elevator in my building to find his office, and I had these numbers repeating themselves erratically in my mind. Four of those numbers are actually my office number, which doesn't surprise me. Regardless of how hard I looked, I could not find Robert in my building. So, off I went to the library. Just like Disney World, my university had a monorail system that attached central buildings to one another, which included my building to the library. I hopped the monorail to the library, sure I could find him there. I took the monorail from one floor to the next as it wound up and through the library like a snake. When we got to the top floor and I still hadn't found Robert, I had a sudden true panic attack which woke me up. One I felt as I awoke.
2. Strangling the eight-legged monster
Robert and I were in my parents' home, and it was just the two of us. I was getting the impression that he and I had just arrived before everyone else, but that we were going to leave and meet them somewhere. As we were leaving our luggage in our separate rooms (because this dream was apparently a real-time, pre-wedding dream), I noticed something dark scurry past me in my periphery. I felt suddenly angry and annoyed, but I couldn't figure out why. I went downstairs to meet with Robert and to tell him about what I saw, when I saw the thing peeking out at me from behind the couch. I went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel (I guess because I thought it was a bug and that I was going to squish it), but when I returned it had disappeared again. Robert kept swearing that he hadn't seen anything and that he didn't know what I was talking about. At this point, I was in a frenzy and couldn't calm myself down until I had killed this creature. Robert told me it was okay but that we were going to be late, so I grabbed my coat and purse and started to walk toward the door...when it popped out from behind the couch again. I cursed, threw my stuff on it, and then went for a shoe. When I turned around, I could see it clearer, and it had scurried closer to me. It was a little black, furry, eight-legged creature. Not so much spider-like as feline, actually. I knew the only way to kill it was to strangle it because it was too big to squish. I grabbed it by its spindly neck, felt my thumbs press into its windpipe, and watched as its eyes began to well up while it stared up at me. There was no doubt that this creature was pure evil, but it looked pitiful as I strangled it. I realized it was still struggling to inhale, so I pressed my fingers over its nose as well to speed along the process. Right before I woke up, its eyes rolled back in its head, and I guess I killed it. I awoke with a pounding heart and with tears in my eyes.
3. Aural hallucinations on the bus
Today, as I was on the bus back to Robert's home (where I park my car because he's so much closer to the bus stop than I am), I nodded off. My ride takes about fifteen minutes, so I really shouldn't have nodded off...but I did. I never fully fell asleep, but instead had little spurts of vivid dreams. I hate when I dream like that because it truly disturbs me. The vivid dreams today were focused entirely on the aural. Everything I dreamt about was screaming, loud and jarring noises, incessant pounding. The bus ride itself was very quiet and smooth because I was one of only four people on the whole bus. When I arrived at Robert's, I was unexpectedly exhausted and developing quite a large and painful headache. Despite that we haven't spent a great deal of time with each other this week, I simply couldn't stay...I had just enough energy to get myself home. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I was starting to feel very dizzy, on top of the imposing headache. By the time I got home, I felt so sick that I nearly couldn't prepare my dinner. I managed to feed myself sufficiently, passed out, had a few more vivid dreams (which I've subsequently forgotten), and am now feeling much better than I was this afternoon.
What I'd like to know, though, is what is going on in my subconscious to give me such disturbing dreams.
Over the past few days, I've had the following dreams:
1. Unable to find Robert
I don't remember great details about the dream, but I do know that I was at the university (or something like it), and I was trying desperately to find Robert. In the dream, he had an office either in the same building as mine or in the library. At first, I was on the elevator in my building to find his office, and I had these numbers repeating themselves erratically in my mind. Four of those numbers are actually my office number, which doesn't surprise me. Regardless of how hard I looked, I could not find Robert in my building. So, off I went to the library. Just like Disney World, my university had a monorail system that attached central buildings to one another, which included my building to the library. I hopped the monorail to the library, sure I could find him there. I took the monorail from one floor to the next as it wound up and through the library like a snake. When we got to the top floor and I still hadn't found Robert, I had a sudden true panic attack which woke me up. One I felt as I awoke.
2. Strangling the eight-legged monster
Robert and I were in my parents' home, and it was just the two of us. I was getting the impression that he and I had just arrived before everyone else, but that we were going to leave and meet them somewhere. As we were leaving our luggage in our separate rooms (because this dream was apparently a real-time, pre-wedding dream), I noticed something dark scurry past me in my periphery. I felt suddenly angry and annoyed, but I couldn't figure out why. I went downstairs to meet with Robert and to tell him about what I saw, when I saw the thing peeking out at me from behind the couch. I went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel (I guess because I thought it was a bug and that I was going to squish it), but when I returned it had disappeared again. Robert kept swearing that he hadn't seen anything and that he didn't know what I was talking about. At this point, I was in a frenzy and couldn't calm myself down until I had killed this creature. Robert told me it was okay but that we were going to be late, so I grabbed my coat and purse and started to walk toward the door...when it popped out from behind the couch again. I cursed, threw my stuff on it, and then went for a shoe. When I turned around, I could see it clearer, and it had scurried closer to me. It was a little black, furry, eight-legged creature. Not so much spider-like as feline, actually. I knew the only way to kill it was to strangle it because it was too big to squish. I grabbed it by its spindly neck, felt my thumbs press into its windpipe, and watched as its eyes began to well up while it stared up at me. There was no doubt that this creature was pure evil, but it looked pitiful as I strangled it. I realized it was still struggling to inhale, so I pressed my fingers over its nose as well to speed along the process. Right before I woke up, its eyes rolled back in its head, and I guess I killed it. I awoke with a pounding heart and with tears in my eyes.
3. Aural hallucinations on the bus
Today, as I was on the bus back to Robert's home (where I park my car because he's so much closer to the bus stop than I am), I nodded off. My ride takes about fifteen minutes, so I really shouldn't have nodded off...but I did. I never fully fell asleep, but instead had little spurts of vivid dreams. I hate when I dream like that because it truly disturbs me. The vivid dreams today were focused entirely on the aural. Everything I dreamt about was screaming, loud and jarring noises, incessant pounding. The bus ride itself was very quiet and smooth because I was one of only four people on the whole bus. When I arrived at Robert's, I was unexpectedly exhausted and developing quite a large and painful headache. Despite that we haven't spent a great deal of time with each other this week, I simply couldn't stay...I had just enough energy to get myself home. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I was starting to feel very dizzy, on top of the imposing headache. By the time I got home, I felt so sick that I nearly couldn't prepare my dinner. I managed to feed myself sufficiently, passed out, had a few more vivid dreams (which I've subsequently forgotten), and am now feeling much better than I was this afternoon.
What I'd like to know, though, is what is going on in my subconscious to give me such disturbing dreams.
The idiocy of students and the frustration of Ms. W
This afternoon, I walk into the computer lab to prepare today's lesson plan (ganked almost entirely from last semester's lesson plan on the same text), and I check my e-mail. This is what I get from the a report from the English Center regarding a student's visit this morning:
"[Student] needed help on writing a thesis statement. I was not able to help him write his own because he did not know what the tales were about or which ones he was going to compare. We discussed what a thesis statement was, and we went over a very basic example of how to draft a thesis statement."
There are so many things wrong with this report that led me to nearly diminish into a blind rage.
1. Because my students were taught the proper way to write a thesis statement in their required composition classes, but because they also forgot everything they were taught, I had the lovely pleasure these past several weeks of reeducating them on proper thesis statement construction. I wrote "rules of thesis statements" up on the board (beginning with rule #1: you cannot write a good paper unless you have a good thesis statement), and walked them through the nitty gritty details of each rule to a pain-staking extent.
2. After explaining the rules of thesis statement construction to them, we then composed two thesis statements--one for both of the poets we read for that class day. We wrote them together; the prompt from me was, "If you were writing a paper on this poet, what sort of argument might you make?" We brainstormed key points of the poet's biography as well as key moments in the poetry. We made discriminate choices of which points were "facts" versus "opinions," recalling one of the rules that facts do not a thesis statement make. We then crafted the thesis statement together, all the while referring to the rules of thesis statements that were conveniently displayed on the board.
3. Today is Friday. Their paper is due a week from today. On Wednesday, I assigned to my students the following homework: write and turn in your thesis statement from your upcoming paper. Do not turn in the entire introductory paragraph or the entire paper. I only want the thesis statement. I did this for two reasons:
3.a. The first reason was to give them concentrated feedback on their thesis statements before it's too late. They'll also receive a grade (out of ten points) on their thesis statement, using the paper grading rubric, so they can see where their thesis statement falls at the moment. I plan to comment in great detail, which will require an enormous amount of time and effort on my part, but needs to be done. I am NOT reading a second set of horrible papers. I'm just not.
3.b. The second reason was to check up on them and make sure they weren't screwing around with their papers. The damn things are due the Friday before Thanksgiving break. This is a big game weekend. I'm trying to help these kids out by making sure they're staying on top of their work. Excuse me for going a bit beyond my job requirements.
Do you see where Ms. Wood would suddenly become irate with this student? Not only have we already discussed (AT LENGTH) the stories this student wants to write about (discussions he was present for), but we've already learned together exactly what a thesis statement is, what it does, and how to write one (again, another lesson he was present for). The reports from the English Center are anonymous, but I wish I could find out who consulted with my student. I just want to tell this person thanks for their attempt to help an apparent hopeless cause, and to also sort of defend myself by explaining that this student should already know how to write a thesis statement.
You know what this is? This is the student demonstrating laziness a few hours before the homework is due. This student, I would not be surprised, expected the consultant to do his homework for him.
Sorry, kiddo. That's not how the system works.
*a la Hulk* Ms. Wood SMAAASH!!!!
"[Student] needed help on writing a thesis statement. I was not able to help him write his own because he did not know what the tales were about or which ones he was going to compare. We discussed what a thesis statement was, and we went over a very basic example of how to draft a thesis statement."
There are so many things wrong with this report that led me to nearly diminish into a blind rage.
1. Because my students were taught the proper way to write a thesis statement in their required composition classes, but because they also forgot everything they were taught, I had the lovely pleasure these past several weeks of reeducating them on proper thesis statement construction. I wrote "rules of thesis statements" up on the board (beginning with rule #1: you cannot write a good paper unless you have a good thesis statement), and walked them through the nitty gritty details of each rule to a pain-staking extent.
2. After explaining the rules of thesis statement construction to them, we then composed two thesis statements--one for both of the poets we read for that class day. We wrote them together; the prompt from me was, "If you were writing a paper on this poet, what sort of argument might you make?" We brainstormed key points of the poet's biography as well as key moments in the poetry. We made discriminate choices of which points were "facts" versus "opinions," recalling one of the rules that facts do not a thesis statement make. We then crafted the thesis statement together, all the while referring to the rules of thesis statements that were conveniently displayed on the board.
3. Today is Friday. Their paper is due a week from today. On Wednesday, I assigned to my students the following homework: write and turn in your thesis statement from your upcoming paper. Do not turn in the entire introductory paragraph or the entire paper. I only want the thesis statement. I did this for two reasons:
3.a. The first reason was to give them concentrated feedback on their thesis statements before it's too late. They'll also receive a grade (out of ten points) on their thesis statement, using the paper grading rubric, so they can see where their thesis statement falls at the moment. I plan to comment in great detail, which will require an enormous amount of time and effort on my part, but needs to be done. I am NOT reading a second set of horrible papers. I'm just not.
3.b. The second reason was to check up on them and make sure they weren't screwing around with their papers. The damn things are due the Friday before Thanksgiving break. This is a big game weekend. I'm trying to help these kids out by making sure they're staying on top of their work. Excuse me for going a bit beyond my job requirements.
Do you see where Ms. Wood would suddenly become irate with this student? Not only have we already discussed (AT LENGTH) the stories this student wants to write about (discussions he was present for), but we've already learned together exactly what a thesis statement is, what it does, and how to write one (again, another lesson he was present for). The reports from the English Center are anonymous, but I wish I could find out who consulted with my student. I just want to tell this person thanks for their attempt to help an apparent hopeless cause, and to also sort of defend myself by explaining that this student should already know how to write a thesis statement.
You know what this is? This is the student demonstrating laziness a few hours before the homework is due. This student, I would not be surprised, expected the consultant to do his homework for him.
Sorry, kiddo. That's not how the system works.
*a la Hulk* Ms. Wood SMAAASH!!!!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The best news a girl can get at 7 in the morning!
Robert got into the MA program!! :D
He received an e-mail this morning from the coordinator of graduate studies telling him the good news. This is part of the reason why I love our university--they always send an e-mail first and then they'll send out the official letters. It keeps students from panicking. I have to say, though, that this whole month has been worrisome. I had forgotten how long the admissions process is, and I won't say that I was starting to worry yet, but probably another week and I would have marched into the English department myself to ask questions. Which would have actually hurt Robert more than helped him. Which is why I kept myself in the office.
The general plan is for Robert to take classes next Spring, which would finish up the requisite course work for the MA. Because he's been accepted halfway through the year, he was not offered the teaching assistantship. But he can be reconsidered for the position in Fall...that'll just be something he'll have to jump on and be pretty persistent with, because he'll be competing against the Fall incoming students. In the meantime, he'll keep working. We're not sure where, but he'll keep working.
I'm already starting to think of additional jobs I can take on to help out. I can tutor more hours of the week, which increases my monthly income substantially, and I can apply for research assistantships, some of which pay as much as my teaching assistantship.
But, anyway, his acceptance into the MA program is the best news I could have received via text message at 7 in the morning! :)
He received an e-mail this morning from the coordinator of graduate studies telling him the good news. This is part of the reason why I love our university--they always send an e-mail first and then they'll send out the official letters. It keeps students from panicking. I have to say, though, that this whole month has been worrisome. I had forgotten how long the admissions process is, and I won't say that I was starting to worry yet, but probably another week and I would have marched into the English department myself to ask questions. Which would have actually hurt Robert more than helped him. Which is why I kept myself in the office.
The general plan is for Robert to take classes next Spring, which would finish up the requisite course work for the MA. Because he's been accepted halfway through the year, he was not offered the teaching assistantship. But he can be reconsidered for the position in Fall...that'll just be something he'll have to jump on and be pretty persistent with, because he'll be competing against the Fall incoming students. In the meantime, he'll keep working. We're not sure where, but he'll keep working.
I'm already starting to think of additional jobs I can take on to help out. I can tutor more hours of the week, which increases my monthly income substantially, and I can apply for research assistantships, some of which pay as much as my teaching assistantship.
But, anyway, his acceptance into the MA program is the best news I could have received via text message at 7 in the morning! :)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Moving right along... *whistles*
Well, although I haven't received all the addresses yet (and for good reason, considering everyone is unbelievably busy right now), that hasn't stopped me from being productive. I spent most of the day today (including during class time while my students were doing group work) on the computer answering e-mails.
I contacted our photographer to get the details for the photograph, which, as I mentioned earlier, caused a little snag in our magnet plans, sort of. She's charging a $50/item copyright release fee, which means that the photograph we've selected will actually cost us $50 (instead of $11). Of course, I balked. Mom was still supportive of it, and Robert basically left it up to us (although he was with me for a while with the whole balking thing). If my mom is okay with paying $50 for a photo to use on the save-the-date magnets, then that's fine with me. Still makes me a little uneasy in my core, but she's okay with it...so.... I can't wait until we get the photo from our photographer so I can send it along to the magnet people to get our proof.
I also contacted our event coordinator at the hotel regarding quite a few details for the reception. She's so absolutely sweet. I'm sure she says this to all her clients, but she closed the e-mail with, "I can't wait until the beginning of the year when we start the detailed plans for your wedding! I feel like one of my friends is getting married!!!" Yes, I know she probably says that to a lot of her clients...but that doesn't stop it from giving me the warm fuzzies! :) Robert and I are so happy we're going with the Marriott because this woman has been such a great help. The other hotel we looked at for the reception had an event coordinator who really couldn't be bothered with us. My belief is that if a family is coming to look at a potential venue in order to spend a large sum of money, then that family should be treated with the respect that comes with spending money (and really in any quantity!). We just didn't receive that attention from this other hotel. As soon as we finished our meeting, Robert and I looked at our parents and just shook our heads. My sister did end up going through this hotel for the bridal shower, and it turned out that our instinct about this event coordinator was right on the mark--she doesn't answer e-mails, she doesn't want to meet in person, she doesn't want to talk on the phone, she gets confused by her own contract, and she's disrespectful of her clients even though they're attempting to give her money. Even though this hotel was a little cheaper than the Marriott (and not by much, really), my mom told me that she thinks we made the right choice. She said, "Well, it's that age-old adage: you get what you pay for."
Well, anyway, got side-tracked by my own thoughts....
So I spent the whole day on the computer. I also just spent the past couple of hours working on our wedding website, which included adding all the hotel accommodations that my sister had researched a couple weeks ago. I think there are about thirteen different hotels so far, and I put them order from closest to the church to furthest. Later, I'll add a map from the reception back to the hotels listed. Hopefully that'll help the out-of-town guests.
We haven't gotten the rest of the wedding website up and running yet, so hang tight for the release of the web address. It will definitely be ready by the time we send out the save-the-dates because we'll put the address on the magnets as well.
Despite my having to spend the whole day on the computer, I'm still enjoying this part of the wedding planning process! :)
I contacted our photographer to get the details for the photograph, which, as I mentioned earlier, caused a little snag in our magnet plans, sort of. She's charging a $50/item copyright release fee, which means that the photograph we've selected will actually cost us $50 (instead of $11). Of course, I balked. Mom was still supportive of it, and Robert basically left it up to us (although he was with me for a while with the whole balking thing). If my mom is okay with paying $50 for a photo to use on the save-the-date magnets, then that's fine with me. Still makes me a little uneasy in my core, but she's okay with it...so.... I can't wait until we get the photo from our photographer so I can send it along to the magnet people to get our proof.
I also contacted our event coordinator at the hotel regarding quite a few details for the reception. She's so absolutely sweet. I'm sure she says this to all her clients, but she closed the e-mail with, "I can't wait until the beginning of the year when we start the detailed plans for your wedding! I feel like one of my friends is getting married!!!" Yes, I know she probably says that to a lot of her clients...but that doesn't stop it from giving me the warm fuzzies! :) Robert and I are so happy we're going with the Marriott because this woman has been such a great help. The other hotel we looked at for the reception had an event coordinator who really couldn't be bothered with us. My belief is that if a family is coming to look at a potential venue in order to spend a large sum of money, then that family should be treated with the respect that comes with spending money (and really in any quantity!). We just didn't receive that attention from this other hotel. As soon as we finished our meeting, Robert and I looked at our parents and just shook our heads. My sister did end up going through this hotel for the bridal shower, and it turned out that our instinct about this event coordinator was right on the mark--she doesn't answer e-mails, she doesn't want to meet in person, she doesn't want to talk on the phone, she gets confused by her own contract, and she's disrespectful of her clients even though they're attempting to give her money. Even though this hotel was a little cheaper than the Marriott (and not by much, really), my mom told me that she thinks we made the right choice. She said, "Well, it's that age-old adage: you get what you pay for."
Well, anyway, got side-tracked by my own thoughts....
So I spent the whole day on the computer. I also just spent the past couple of hours working on our wedding website, which included adding all the hotel accommodations that my sister had researched a couple weeks ago. I think there are about thirteen different hotels so far, and I put them order from closest to the church to furthest. Later, I'll add a map from the reception back to the hotels listed. Hopefully that'll help the out-of-town guests.
We haven't gotten the rest of the wedding website up and running yet, so hang tight for the release of the web address. It will definitely be ready by the time we send out the save-the-dates because we'll put the address on the magnets as well.
Despite my having to spend the whole day on the computer, I'm still enjoying this part of the wedding planning process! :)
"To-Do's before the I Do's"
This summer, as a "have a speedy recovery" gift for my back surgery, my grandmother sent me a cute note pad with the phrase "To-Do's before the I Do's." I've been using this note pad quite a lot in the past months as the wedding approaches. The current To-Do's:
1. Obtain the finalized invitation lists and addresses from both sides of the family. My list is already done. :)
-->Everything that follows on this To Do list depends upon the completion of this item.
2. Create address labels for the invitations and save-the-date envelopes. (Mine are already done.)
3. Create labels for the response cards. This would include the "plus ones" for certain guests.
4. Order save-the-date magnets. We've hit a bit of a snag in our original plan, but I think we're restructuring nicely and should have very lovely save-the-dates.
5. Order wedding invitations, response cards, and thank-you notes.
6. Order the reception favors. I'm not going into specific detail here about what they are because quite a few of my readers are wedding guests, and I don't want to ruin the surprise. :) But, suffice to say, it's a cute gift and not wholly useless.
I've been really enjoying this portion of the wedding planning process. It was a bit touchy in the beginning because there were so many personalities and so many individual tastes and sometimes we'd clash. But I think we've all gotten to a point where we understand how to communicate with one another, and I also think we're easing up a little bit on the necessity of particular details. My motto, which has really helped me gain some perspective, throughout this half of the process has been: "It doesn't matter if X falls through, because at the end of the day Robert and I will be married." There have been a few people to tell me they probably can't come to the wedding, and while I'm disappointed about their prospective absence, the reality is that Robert and I will still be married. This gives me comfort. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd spiral into a depression if I focused on other people and their problems with the wedding plans.
Since the engagement, I've heard from almost everyone, "Enjoy this...it flies by." Well, that's true. But I think the key portion of the advice is to enjoy it because it can be far too easy not to enjoy it. I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency to obsess over details and the perfect execution of plans (part of that whole left-brained, Type A personality), and if there is a threat to the perfection of my plans, then I can become extremely defensive and unhappy. This has already happened a few times in the early half of the wedding planning process, which discouraged me from "enjoying it." What I'm learning is that to really "enjoy it," I need to be willing to let go of some of my "perfect" plans, as well as to understand that flexibility will be the only way to maintain a sense of humor as we approach the wedding day.
Here's my vision for the wedding day: others will be busily rushing around me, putting out small fires, absorbing all the stress of the day. Meanwhile, I will be sitting back and relaxing, focusing all my mental and emotional energy on Robert and our lives together.
I'm not historically good at letting go. I'm learning to let go, which requires a great deal of patience and trust in other people that they'll care enough about the plans to take care of details for me.
Breathing also helps me "enjoy it."
1. Obtain the finalized invitation lists and addresses from both sides of the family. My list is already done. :)
-->Everything that follows on this To Do list depends upon the completion of this item.
2. Create address labels for the invitations and save-the-date envelopes. (Mine are already done.)
3. Create labels for the response cards. This would include the "plus ones" for certain guests.
4. Order save-the-date magnets. We've hit a bit of a snag in our original plan, but I think we're restructuring nicely and should have very lovely save-the-dates.
5. Order wedding invitations, response cards, and thank-you notes.
6. Order the reception favors. I'm not going into specific detail here about what they are because quite a few of my readers are wedding guests, and I don't want to ruin the surprise. :) But, suffice to say, it's a cute gift and not wholly useless.
I've been really enjoying this portion of the wedding planning process. It was a bit touchy in the beginning because there were so many personalities and so many individual tastes and sometimes we'd clash. But I think we've all gotten to a point where we understand how to communicate with one another, and I also think we're easing up a little bit on the necessity of particular details. My motto, which has really helped me gain some perspective, throughout this half of the process has been: "It doesn't matter if X falls through, because at the end of the day Robert and I will be married." There have been a few people to tell me they probably can't come to the wedding, and while I'm disappointed about their prospective absence, the reality is that Robert and I will still be married. This gives me comfort. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd spiral into a depression if I focused on other people and their problems with the wedding plans.
Since the engagement, I've heard from almost everyone, "Enjoy this...it flies by." Well, that's true. But I think the key portion of the advice is to enjoy it because it can be far too easy not to enjoy it. I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency to obsess over details and the perfect execution of plans (part of that whole left-brained, Type A personality), and if there is a threat to the perfection of my plans, then I can become extremely defensive and unhappy. This has already happened a few times in the early half of the wedding planning process, which discouraged me from "enjoying it." What I'm learning is that to really "enjoy it," I need to be willing to let go of some of my "perfect" plans, as well as to understand that flexibility will be the only way to maintain a sense of humor as we approach the wedding day.
Here's my vision for the wedding day: others will be busily rushing around me, putting out small fires, absorbing all the stress of the day. Meanwhile, I will be sitting back and relaxing, focusing all my mental and emotional energy on Robert and our lives together.
I'm not historically good at letting go. I'm learning to let go, which requires a great deal of patience and trust in other people that they'll care enough about the plans to take care of details for me.
Breathing also helps me "enjoy it."
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Well, you know, she could be an Amazonian goddess
A positive post, since I've had such low ones in the recent past.
Yesterday was an energizing day--because I was tired of lecturing to my students of Shakespeare's greatness and complexities in The Tempest, I decided to have my students entertain me for the bulk of class. This turned out to be a fascinating and fun class, so anyone teaching drama (or really any creative, interpretive text) is welcome to adapt this lesson to their own classroom.
My students knew we were doing a group activity for Friday's class, so they were generally prepared. I assigned them to groups (because of the size of my class, I prefer a group count of five). Each group was then assigned a scene to look at closely; then, they were asked to choose a passage of no more than 15 lines, but which also must be an interaction between at least two characters. Two group members were assigned the roles for the two characters, which they would interpret and perform for the class. The non-acting group members would explain the significance of that particular passage to the rest of the class, after the performance of course. I also asked the students to applaud after every performance by each group because it's quite a show of bravery to come up and perform Shakespeare in front of one's classmates (and teacher). I divided the groups this way:
Group One: 3.1
Group Two: 3.2
Group Three: 3.3
Group Four: act 4*
Group Five: act 5*
Me: Prospero's Epilogue
*In The Tempest, acts 4 and 5 have only a single scene. The groups with these acts were capable of handling the size of the act just as easily as the other groups with smaller selections.
I let them discuss their selection for about fifteen minutes, and I also circulated the room to chat with each group about their ideas for their performance. Most groups were shy and did not want to perform in front of everyone, but once I reminded them that we were working with a comedy, they perked up and some decided to really make their selection borderline absurd. I have two examples that won out in my mind for creativity.
Scene: 3.1: Miranda and Ferdinand's clandestine marriage
The group who had this scene used a creative interpretation which really worked. The female student who played Miranda decided to play her like a tomboy, considering Miranda was raised on an island rather than in the court. The male student who played Ferdinand decided to play him like a prissy-pants prince, since that is what he is. Most fascinating, though, is that the group chose to perform a sort of "dumb show": the acting students did not speak the lines; rather, two of their group members read the lines for them while the actors demonstrated the lines. The female student reading for Miranda read her lines in a deep, uncultured voice. The male student reading for Ferdinand read his lines in a higher-pitched, more refined voice. Their classmates appreciated their creativity. When I asked them about their interpretation, they made some very interesting arguments about gender performance, and ended with the statement, "Well, you know, she could be seen as a kind of Amazonian goddess, considering she didn't grow up as civilized as her father." I agreed and thought something of this nature would serve as a fun paper topic (which are due on two weeks).
Scene: 3.2: Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban drink and drink and drink
The group who had this scene utilized a great prop: a water bottle wrapped in a brown lunch bag. The three acting students wandered aimlessly around the front of the classroom, each grabbing greedily for the bottle (or "sack") for one more swig. My student playing Trinculo stole the show: he "forgot" his lines (they had their books in front of them), so the other actors had to prompt him along, and he'd say, "Yes!" and then move on with the rest of his line. He stumbled so much around the front of the room that he ultimately had to sit down and rest his head on the desk to give the impression that the room was spinning. The other two at this point slid down the wall and sat on the ground. My Trinculo even fake vomited in the middle of his speech...the best part was that he continued the speech even after vomiting. The whole class cracked up and thought these three were complete geniuses. The best part, to me, was that I have seen it performed almost exactly this way at the Shakespeare Tavern (which they wouldn't have seen). It was so great.
After the last group performed (and was applauded), I went back up to the front of the classroom to perform the Epilogue (I had been sitting in the back of the classroom as an audience member). The Epilogue to The Tempest, of course, follows the tradition of addressing the audience for a last-ditch appeal for applause. I emoted, I emphasized important words, I made the words have meaning, and I had all 30 pairs of eyes staring attentively at me. It was such a high, and I rode that high for the rest of the day into the evening. Just before dismissing my class, I joked with the students that I should always end class with their applause.
I hope that I made at least one student understand Shakespeare a little better than they had before. I hope I made some sort of difference in their interpretation of such old literature. At the very least, I hope they enjoyed class a little more than they normally do. I sure did.
"Give me your hands, if we be friends."
Yesterday was an energizing day--because I was tired of lecturing to my students of Shakespeare's greatness and complexities in The Tempest, I decided to have my students entertain me for the bulk of class. This turned out to be a fascinating and fun class, so anyone teaching drama (or really any creative, interpretive text) is welcome to adapt this lesson to their own classroom.
My students knew we were doing a group activity for Friday's class, so they were generally prepared. I assigned them to groups (because of the size of my class, I prefer a group count of five). Each group was then assigned a scene to look at closely; then, they were asked to choose a passage of no more than 15 lines, but which also must be an interaction between at least two characters. Two group members were assigned the roles for the two characters, which they would interpret and perform for the class. The non-acting group members would explain the significance of that particular passage to the rest of the class, after the performance of course. I also asked the students to applaud after every performance by each group because it's quite a show of bravery to come up and perform Shakespeare in front of one's classmates (and teacher). I divided the groups this way:
Group One: 3.1
Group Two: 3.2
Group Three: 3.3
Group Four: act 4*
Group Five: act 5*
Me: Prospero's Epilogue
*In The Tempest, acts 4 and 5 have only a single scene. The groups with these acts were capable of handling the size of the act just as easily as the other groups with smaller selections.
I let them discuss their selection for about fifteen minutes, and I also circulated the room to chat with each group about their ideas for their performance. Most groups were shy and did not want to perform in front of everyone, but once I reminded them that we were working with a comedy, they perked up and some decided to really make their selection borderline absurd. I have two examples that won out in my mind for creativity.
Scene: 3.1: Miranda and Ferdinand's clandestine marriage
The group who had this scene used a creative interpretation which really worked. The female student who played Miranda decided to play her like a tomboy, considering Miranda was raised on an island rather than in the court. The male student who played Ferdinand decided to play him like a prissy-pants prince, since that is what he is. Most fascinating, though, is that the group chose to perform a sort of "dumb show": the acting students did not speak the lines; rather, two of their group members read the lines for them while the actors demonstrated the lines. The female student reading for Miranda read her lines in a deep, uncultured voice. The male student reading for Ferdinand read his lines in a higher-pitched, more refined voice. Their classmates appreciated their creativity. When I asked them about their interpretation, they made some very interesting arguments about gender performance, and ended with the statement, "Well, you know, she could be seen as a kind of Amazonian goddess, considering she didn't grow up as civilized as her father." I agreed and thought something of this nature would serve as a fun paper topic (which are due on two weeks).
Scene: 3.2: Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban drink and drink and drink
The group who had this scene utilized a great prop: a water bottle wrapped in a brown lunch bag. The three acting students wandered aimlessly around the front of the classroom, each grabbing greedily for the bottle (or "sack") for one more swig. My student playing Trinculo stole the show: he "forgot" his lines (they had their books in front of them), so the other actors had to prompt him along, and he'd say, "Yes!" and then move on with the rest of his line. He stumbled so much around the front of the room that he ultimately had to sit down and rest his head on the desk to give the impression that the room was spinning. The other two at this point slid down the wall and sat on the ground. My Trinculo even fake vomited in the middle of his speech...the best part was that he continued the speech even after vomiting. The whole class cracked up and thought these three were complete geniuses. The best part, to me, was that I have seen it performed almost exactly this way at the Shakespeare Tavern (which they wouldn't have seen). It was so great.
After the last group performed (and was applauded), I went back up to the front of the classroom to perform the Epilogue (I had been sitting in the back of the classroom as an audience member). The Epilogue to The Tempest, of course, follows the tradition of addressing the audience for a last-ditch appeal for applause. I emoted, I emphasized important words, I made the words have meaning, and I had all 30 pairs of eyes staring attentively at me. It was such a high, and I rode that high for the rest of the day into the evening. Just before dismissing my class, I joked with the students that I should always end class with their applause.
I hope that I made at least one student understand Shakespeare a little better than they had before. I hope I made some sort of difference in their interpretation of such old literature. At the very least, I hope they enjoyed class a little more than they normally do. I sure did.
"Give me your hands, if we be friends."
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Golden Rule: or, What I Have Learned
I've always known, and have only come to accept in my adult life, that my locus of control surrounds only myself, my reactions, and my actions. Others may interact with and occasionally influence my locus of control, but they are not controlled by it.
I am learning now that The Golden Rule is a bit of a scam.
We are encouraged to treat others as we would have them treat us, which I adhere to as best I can with some admitted flaws along the way. Where I find the scam to exist is in the unspoken reverse golden rule that by treating others in the manner of which we would have them treat us, we almost expect them to treat us as we have treated them. I've been warned against wanting to adhere to the reverse golden rule, but I think in this situation, the warning falls short.
Recently, I have noticed a great deal of petty arguments spring up in an online discourse community regarding the election results. Yes, there was some bickering throughout the 20-month campaign, but nothing quite to this extent. Because I know I am feeling weakened by my stress level, I have opted out of this discourse community until the waters calm. In the meantime, however, I have been engaged in an argument of my own, which I am finding difficult to ignore.
As I've made quite clear, I am not interested in advertising my political positions publicly. On occasion, I will voice my opinions when pertinent and only to those whom I trust. I believe in the privacy of my ballot as well as that of others' ballots. I am not interested in what selections people made, just THAT they made them. To me, the only important part of this election was voter turn-out. This in mind, I have not engaged anyone who I know is of a different opinion from me because I am not interested in the proceeding argument. This is me living according to The Golden Rule: I am politely ignoring and respecting people's privacy in their political views because it is how I would have them behave toward me. This in mind, I would like to be able to require that those who have not been engaged by me would not attempt to make assumptions or judgments on what they cannot know. I would like to require respect and privacy. I know this is not a possibility as my locus of control is limited. I am struggling not to react to these antagonistic remarks and hurtful judgments. I struggle because my mental energy is weakened now. I will not delve deeper into that part of the issue because I believe I already beat that dead horse into the ground with my last post.
An example for argument's sake.
Person A supports Idea 1.
Person B supports Idea 2 (or, at least Person A assumes).
Person B, knowing that he or she disagrees with Person A, chooses to refrain from argument--to each his or her own, Person B believes.
Person A, unprovoked, criticizes Person B with assumptions and impolite judgments once Person A realizes that Person B does not support Idea 1.
Person B, confused and hurt, wants to correct Person A, but he or she realizes that doing so would only stoke the flames. Person B decides to reward Person A the winning blow.
What makes The Golden Rule a scam? The unspoken suggestion that, "if you treat others the way you would have them treat you, then they will treat you the way you have treated them." This is untrue and perhaps explains the reason The Golden Rule was never presented as an if-then clause.
Robert and I agreed this morning (while he was calming down the Person B of my example) that when we teach our children The Golden Rule, we will do so with the admonition, "treat others as you would have them treat you, but do not expect them to treat you the way you have treated them." Such clarification should prevent future confusion and hurt.
Perhaps this Person B is too naive for her own good.
I am learning now that The Golden Rule is a bit of a scam.
We are encouraged to treat others as we would have them treat us, which I adhere to as best I can with some admitted flaws along the way. Where I find the scam to exist is in the unspoken reverse golden rule that by treating others in the manner of which we would have them treat us, we almost expect them to treat us as we have treated them. I've been warned against wanting to adhere to the reverse golden rule, but I think in this situation, the warning falls short.
Recently, I have noticed a great deal of petty arguments spring up in an online discourse community regarding the election results. Yes, there was some bickering throughout the 20-month campaign, but nothing quite to this extent. Because I know I am feeling weakened by my stress level, I have opted out of this discourse community until the waters calm. In the meantime, however, I have been engaged in an argument of my own, which I am finding difficult to ignore.
As I've made quite clear, I am not interested in advertising my political positions publicly. On occasion, I will voice my opinions when pertinent and only to those whom I trust. I believe in the privacy of my ballot as well as that of others' ballots. I am not interested in what selections people made, just THAT they made them. To me, the only important part of this election was voter turn-out. This in mind, I have not engaged anyone who I know is of a different opinion from me because I am not interested in the proceeding argument. This is me living according to The Golden Rule: I am politely ignoring and respecting people's privacy in their political views because it is how I would have them behave toward me. This in mind, I would like to be able to require that those who have not been engaged by me would not attempt to make assumptions or judgments on what they cannot know. I would like to require respect and privacy. I know this is not a possibility as my locus of control is limited. I am struggling not to react to these antagonistic remarks and hurtful judgments. I struggle because my mental energy is weakened now. I will not delve deeper into that part of the issue because I believe I already beat that dead horse into the ground with my last post.
An example for argument's sake.
Person A supports Idea 1.
Person B supports Idea 2 (or, at least Person A assumes).
Person B, knowing that he or she disagrees with Person A, chooses to refrain from argument--to each his or her own, Person B believes.
Person A, unprovoked, criticizes Person B with assumptions and impolite judgments once Person A realizes that Person B does not support Idea 1.
Person B, confused and hurt, wants to correct Person A, but he or she realizes that doing so would only stoke the flames. Person B decides to reward Person A the winning blow.
What makes The Golden Rule a scam? The unspoken suggestion that, "if you treat others the way you would have them treat you, then they will treat you the way you have treated them." This is untrue and perhaps explains the reason The Golden Rule was never presented as an if-then clause.
Robert and I agreed this morning (while he was calming down the Person B of my example) that when we teach our children The Golden Rule, we will do so with the admonition, "treat others as you would have them treat you, but do not expect them to treat you the way you have treated them." Such clarification should prevent future confusion and hurt.
Perhaps this Person B is too naive for her own good.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Working it out
Lately I've been in a bit of a funk, and I can't sort out the why. My life is going in such a positive direction. I'm engaged, all the wedding plans are going smoothly, I'm loved by the most wonderful man, and I love loving him.
In other arenas, though...part of me just feels so...down. Blue. Almost sad. But I'm not sad, am I? I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't be.
So, what's going on, Amanda?
Who knows?
I feel oversensitive lately. When people supposedly "tease" me, I've been unable to let it go. I feel a fierce need to defend myself and raise my hackles. Backed into a corner, I can't just turn my head and pretend I have all the space in the world. I'm not normally like this. I'm normally more easy-going and capable of rolling my eyes or shrugging my shoulders and letting it go. Lately, though, I've felt as though letting it go would actually be more reminiscent of lying down and acting a doormat than proving myself the stronger, bigger person. In response to this, I've left a discourse community I originally enjoyed participating in because I realized that I was getting involved in petty arguments that were serving more as distractions than character-enhancements.
But why the blues? I still can't sort it out.
Surely it isn't the studying...I've been here before; I know what it is to study for comps. The first time I sunk into a deep depression, but this time is different because I have Robert with me.
I find myself daydreaming more frequently. I fantasize about married life. Walking into the door to our home and seeing Robert, Milton, and the cats. Snuggling on the couch after dinner and before bed. Waking up to him. Cooking dinner together. Grocery shopping together. Cleaning the house together. Walking Milton together. Writing my dissertation with him beside me.
198 days left to go.
In other arenas, though...part of me just feels so...down. Blue. Almost sad. But I'm not sad, am I? I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't be.
So, what's going on, Amanda?
Who knows?
I feel oversensitive lately. When people supposedly "tease" me, I've been unable to let it go. I feel a fierce need to defend myself and raise my hackles. Backed into a corner, I can't just turn my head and pretend I have all the space in the world. I'm not normally like this. I'm normally more easy-going and capable of rolling my eyes or shrugging my shoulders and letting it go. Lately, though, I've felt as though letting it go would actually be more reminiscent of lying down and acting a doormat than proving myself the stronger, bigger person. In response to this, I've left a discourse community I originally enjoyed participating in because I realized that I was getting involved in petty arguments that were serving more as distractions than character-enhancements.
But why the blues? I still can't sort it out.
Surely it isn't the studying...I've been here before; I know what it is to study for comps. The first time I sunk into a deep depression, but this time is different because I have Robert with me.
I find myself daydreaming more frequently. I fantasize about married life. Walking into the door to our home and seeing Robert, Milton, and the cats. Snuggling on the couch after dinner and before bed. Waking up to him. Cooking dinner together. Grocery shopping together. Cleaning the house together. Walking Milton together. Writing my dissertation with him beside me.
198 days left to go.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Disappointment
I am desperately disappointed in California. How is it right that I get to enjoy the institution of marriage while my homosexual friends (who are in equally committed relationships) cannot? I could cry right now. I've been near tears all day already, just thinking of the possibility.
My only relief comes in knowing that the 18,000 Californian same-sex couples who were married this summer will still be seen as having a valid marriage. Which seems to defeat the purpose of the passing Proposition 8 in the first place, but I won't dispute it now. They can apparently still face legal action which could somehow nullify their marriage, but I hope something like that would never happen.
I just don't understand. People say that they felt the sanctity of marriage was threatened when homosexual couples wanted to marry. How is the sanctity of my marriage threatened by any other couple's marriage? My marriage will be sanctified because of the way Robert and I will regard our marriage. I believe heterosexual couples who marry unprepared or lacking any plan for commitment are the ones who are actually threatening the sanctity of marriage. Why is the divorce rate so high? I know there are legitimate divorces out there; I know that very well. But I also know that there are illegitimate divorces out there. People who simply are bored with each other or who refuse to try to make it work. People who cheat on their faithful, loving spouses threaten the sanctity of marriage. Obviously these are only heterosexual couples, considering homosexuals aren't marrying (or, rather, are marrying but as a fraction of a percent of the entire marrying population).
If we go along with the argument that marriage is for procreation, then should we refuse to allow infertile couples to marry? Or those couples who aren't interested in having children and who would rather focus on their careers? When they say they want to protect the family, what family are they talking about? Robert and I regard each other as family, although we're not yet married. What if we don't have any children and don't end up adopting? Is our marriage less legitimate or less sanctified than a marriage resulting in children? I am obviously confused by the entire argument I've heard conservatives repeatedly exclaim. None of my questions can be satisfactorily answered.
I'm so upset. I felt so hopeful for California because I thought it could mean something for the rest of the country one day. If Robert and I are blessed with children one day, I hope they are granted the right to marry the love of their life, despite what their private parts are.
This makes me sad.
My only relief comes in knowing that the 18,000 Californian same-sex couples who were married this summer will still be seen as having a valid marriage. Which seems to defeat the purpose of the passing Proposition 8 in the first place, but I won't dispute it now. They can apparently still face legal action which could somehow nullify their marriage, but I hope something like that would never happen.
I just don't understand. People say that they felt the sanctity of marriage was threatened when homosexual couples wanted to marry. How is the sanctity of my marriage threatened by any other couple's marriage? My marriage will be sanctified because of the way Robert and I will regard our marriage. I believe heterosexual couples who marry unprepared or lacking any plan for commitment are the ones who are actually threatening the sanctity of marriage. Why is the divorce rate so high? I know there are legitimate divorces out there; I know that very well. But I also know that there are illegitimate divorces out there. People who simply are bored with each other or who refuse to try to make it work. People who cheat on their faithful, loving spouses threaten the sanctity of marriage. Obviously these are only heterosexual couples, considering homosexuals aren't marrying (or, rather, are marrying but as a fraction of a percent of the entire marrying population).
If we go along with the argument that marriage is for procreation, then should we refuse to allow infertile couples to marry? Or those couples who aren't interested in having children and who would rather focus on their careers? When they say they want to protect the family, what family are they talking about? Robert and I regard each other as family, although we're not yet married. What if we don't have any children and don't end up adopting? Is our marriage less legitimate or less sanctified than a marriage resulting in children? I am obviously confused by the entire argument I've heard conservatives repeatedly exclaim. None of my questions can be satisfactorily answered.
I'm so upset. I felt so hopeful for California because I thought it could mean something for the rest of the country one day. If Robert and I are blessed with children one day, I hope they are granted the right to marry the love of their life, despite what their private parts are.
This makes me sad.
A new America
This morning I woke up in a country where it actually is possible for any kid to grow up and become president.
Who knows? Maybe next up will be a woman. Or a Hispanic man or woman. Or an Asian man or woman. Or *big gasp* a Native American man or woman. I feel like the door has been blown wide open. Did it come too late? Yes. Several people last night at the party I attended challenged everyone's self-congratulatory tone for electing a black man to the presidency. It's far too late. But at least it's happened. Finally, finally.
I feel like when I tell my future children, "Yes, you can have any job you want to have," I won't have to feel like I'm lying to them.
As Miranda marveled: "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world/ That has such people in't."
(I realize there is more at stake here than race. I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge what this means for our children's futures and how they can view themselves. The government and political arena is independent from this and was hopefully the only factor anyone considered when casting their vote for either candidate.)
Who knows? Maybe next up will be a woman. Or a Hispanic man or woman. Or an Asian man or woman. Or *big gasp* a Native American man or woman. I feel like the door has been blown wide open. Did it come too late? Yes. Several people last night at the party I attended challenged everyone's self-congratulatory tone for electing a black man to the presidency. It's far too late. But at least it's happened. Finally, finally.
I feel like when I tell my future children, "Yes, you can have any job you want to have," I won't have to feel like I'm lying to them.
As Miranda marveled: "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world/ That has such people in't."
(I realize there is more at stake here than race. I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge what this means for our children's futures and how they can view themselves. The government and political arena is independent from this and was hopefully the only factor anyone considered when casting their vote for either candidate.)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
My First Time
No, no, it isn't THAT kind of post. ;) This is about my first time at the polls.
I was 18 and registered to vote in time for the 2000 elections. I went to university an hour and a half away from my polling location, knew nothing of absentee ballots, and had a bunch of professors on that Tuesday who refused to allow me to miss my classes to go vote. They believed I should have been more responsible and applied for an absentee ballot beforehand. Perhaps I should have. I missed out on that election, but I stayed up all night with my roommate watching the election results and waiting with bated breath for the announcement of our next president. Little did we know at the time that we would be sitting that way for quite some time while the votes were recounted over and over.
In 2004 I had moved to a different state, but this time I was smarter. I applied for an absentee ballot two months before election day. November 1st rolled around, we were voting the next day...and no absentee ballot. I finally received my ballot the afternoon of November 2nd when the mail was delivered. I scurried to the nearest fax machine, paid a dollar to send it, and was told by the clerk, "I don't know if that'll be counted." I said, "It's worth a shot, isn't it??" He faxed my ballot into my polling place. Three weeks later, I received an official letter of rejection from the state saying that my ballot had not been counted because it hadn't arrived in time. At that moment, I decided that I would change my registration depending on where I would be by the 2008 election.
In 2006, after I had been accepted to my PhD program and knew I'd be hanging around here for several more years, I began the process of establishing my citizenship in this state. I changed my driver's license, tag registration, and voter registration to this state so that I would be capable of voting when the election finally came around again. It took longer than it feels like it should have just because I had some issues to work through with my citizenship in my home state--ah, bureaucracy. When I finally had in hand my new voter registration card, I became extremely excited about the upcoming presidential election.
I woke up this morning around 6 a.m., took my shower, got ready, and went to my polling place. I arrived around 6:45, there was no parking and the line wrapped around the building...almost twice. I parked about three blocks away, but I was happy to do so--I was enlivened by the sheer numbers of voters so early in the morning. The doors opened, the line inched forward. I read a couple of pages in my book, and next thing I knew: I was at the side of the building rather than the back. The line continued to move very quickly; I was in the doors by 7:15. Probably the longest line was the one inside to receive my ballot. I watched closely as the officials chastised people for using the wrong pen on the ballot. Our ballot consisted of incomplete arrows pointing to the names of the candidates and amendments. When casting the vote, the voter was supposed to draw a line from the end of the arrow to the front of the arrow, completing the center. Apparently only a specific type of pen would show up on the machines; people were not using the provided pens and were instead relying on the Bic pens in their purses or pockets. As they were corrected and chastised, I made mental notes. I kept my eyes peeled for open desk space so that I didn't stand around in confusion like so many others; I didn't want to gum up the works. I received my ballot from two very sweet old ladies (one of whom told me her daughter has my name and called it a "good Southern name," lol) and off I quickly went to the closest empty desk space. I drew my arrows, voted yes on most of the amendments because of their usefulness (and because I fortunately researched them before heading out to the polls). I got up, got in the line to cast my ballot, and then put the ballot in the machine as number 160. There was another machine in the building that was up in the 150s. It was only 7:40 in the morning. The polls had barely been opened at this one place had already reached over 300 ballots, and there were at least 300 more people outside when I left.
I have to say, my heart filled with happiness to see that. About a quarter of the voters in my line were people from my age group, which is the most scrutinized age group in this (or any) election. I was happy to see so many young people. I know all my friends have voted, and I'm extremely proud of us.
Time to watch the election results. I'm going to a party tonight to color in a map of the United States with red and blue pens. It'll be fun. :) I'm excited that by this time tomorrow, we'll have a new president. I do hope my guy wins, but I'm frankly just happy to be done with George Bush.
Good job everyone! I think this will have been a great election year based on turn-out. :)
I was 18 and registered to vote in time for the 2000 elections. I went to university an hour and a half away from my polling location, knew nothing of absentee ballots, and had a bunch of professors on that Tuesday who refused to allow me to miss my classes to go vote. They believed I should have been more responsible and applied for an absentee ballot beforehand. Perhaps I should have. I missed out on that election, but I stayed up all night with my roommate watching the election results and waiting with bated breath for the announcement of our next president. Little did we know at the time that we would be sitting that way for quite some time while the votes were recounted over and over.
In 2004 I had moved to a different state, but this time I was smarter. I applied for an absentee ballot two months before election day. November 1st rolled around, we were voting the next day...and no absentee ballot. I finally received my ballot the afternoon of November 2nd when the mail was delivered. I scurried to the nearest fax machine, paid a dollar to send it, and was told by the clerk, "I don't know if that'll be counted." I said, "It's worth a shot, isn't it??" He faxed my ballot into my polling place. Three weeks later, I received an official letter of rejection from the state saying that my ballot had not been counted because it hadn't arrived in time. At that moment, I decided that I would change my registration depending on where I would be by the 2008 election.
In 2006, after I had been accepted to my PhD program and knew I'd be hanging around here for several more years, I began the process of establishing my citizenship in this state. I changed my driver's license, tag registration, and voter registration to this state so that I would be capable of voting when the election finally came around again. It took longer than it feels like it should have just because I had some issues to work through with my citizenship in my home state--ah, bureaucracy. When I finally had in hand my new voter registration card, I became extremely excited about the upcoming presidential election.
I woke up this morning around 6 a.m., took my shower, got ready, and went to my polling place. I arrived around 6:45, there was no parking and the line wrapped around the building...almost twice. I parked about three blocks away, but I was happy to do so--I was enlivened by the sheer numbers of voters so early in the morning. The doors opened, the line inched forward. I read a couple of pages in my book, and next thing I knew: I was at the side of the building rather than the back. The line continued to move very quickly; I was in the doors by 7:15. Probably the longest line was the one inside to receive my ballot. I watched closely as the officials chastised people for using the wrong pen on the ballot. Our ballot consisted of incomplete arrows pointing to the names of the candidates and amendments. When casting the vote, the voter was supposed to draw a line from the end of the arrow to the front of the arrow, completing the center. Apparently only a specific type of pen would show up on the machines; people were not using the provided pens and were instead relying on the Bic pens in their purses or pockets. As they were corrected and chastised, I made mental notes. I kept my eyes peeled for open desk space so that I didn't stand around in confusion like so many others; I didn't want to gum up the works. I received my ballot from two very sweet old ladies (one of whom told me her daughter has my name and called it a "good Southern name," lol) and off I quickly went to the closest empty desk space. I drew my arrows, voted yes on most of the amendments because of their usefulness (and because I fortunately researched them before heading out to the polls). I got up, got in the line to cast my ballot, and then put the ballot in the machine as number 160. There was another machine in the building that was up in the 150s. It was only 7:40 in the morning. The polls had barely been opened at this one place had already reached over 300 ballots, and there were at least 300 more people outside when I left.
I have to say, my heart filled with happiness to see that. About a quarter of the voters in my line were people from my age group, which is the most scrutinized age group in this (or any) election. I was happy to see so many young people. I know all my friends have voted, and I'm extremely proud of us.
Time to watch the election results. I'm going to a party tonight to color in a map of the United States with red and blue pens. It'll be fun. :) I'm excited that by this time tomorrow, we'll have a new president. I do hope my guy wins, but I'm frankly just happy to be done with George Bush.
Good job everyone! I think this will have been a great election year based on turn-out. :)
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Mission: Accomplished!
Well, today was a great success! :D We went to the bridal salon (Affordable Bridal in Buford) to go look at dresses. Amy and I tried on a TON of dresses--maybe about five or six apiece. It was such a fun time. We were so successful in fact that we found my dress! Obviously, because Robert does read this blog, I'm not going to describe my dress. However, suffice to say we all four love it. I can give the hints that I gave Robert already.
1. It's on a hanger, in a bag.
2. It was the last dress of the bunch. The women in the store noticed certain reactions I had to particular elements of mine and Amy's dresses, and they pulled a dress from the mannequin that we didn't previously notice. Aside from a couple of alternations which cannot be named, it fits perfectly.
The women at the bridal store were extremely attentive to the two of us, which was truly worth the experience itself. We just had too much fun! :)
We purchased the dress and veil, and left with both. Everything is hanging in my parents' closet in a white bag.
I'm a happy girl. :)
1. It's on a hanger, in a bag.
2. It was the last dress of the bunch. The women in the store noticed certain reactions I had to particular elements of mine and Amy's dresses, and they pulled a dress from the mannequin that we didn't previously notice. Aside from a couple of alternations which cannot be named, it fits perfectly.
The women at the bridal store were extremely attentive to the two of us, which was truly worth the experience itself. We just had too much fun! :)
We purchased the dress and veil, and left with both. Everything is hanging in my parents' closet in a white bag.
I'm a happy girl. :)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Small joys
Today, in a few hours, Robert and I are going to go do some fun wedding things. In the meantime, he's been at work and I've been doing laundry and grading. Eventually, I need to re-buckle down and get back to studying for my exams. I need to do this sooner rather than later because the pile of books just isn't going away. I'm not feeling as panicky about the studying as I had been after having spoken with some people who have already taken and passed their exams. They gave me wonderful tips for how to read and study, which alleviates a great deal of pressure from me. I feel as though it's more manageable now. I will never be prepared enough, but I will be passably prepared. And that's all that matters.
This is not supposed to be about exams.
Robert and I are going to do fun wedding errands today. We're going into town to look at tuxes (eehehehe!), and then once we're done there, we'll be visiting the local stationary store to look at our invitations and thank-you notes. We're looking at something else for our save-the-dates. I am so thrilled to get to do this with him, and I am even more thrilled that Robert is happy to do this with me, too. We're not the cookie-cutter affianced couple; Robert is not going to disappear until the wedding day, and I am not going to make decisions alone. This makes us happy, even if our parents (or perhaps it's really just my father who's at least voiced it) are skeptical of Robert's interest in the wedding-planning process. He doesn't get as giddy about it as I do, but his joy comes in different ways. As his fiancée, I can recognize when he is enjoying himself--he doesn't have to flail and speak in higher decibels and flit around to prove to me that he's interested in this process.
Another joy that's forthcoming is this weekend. We're going to be extremely busy, but Robert and I are going to Atlanta to visit my parents. Robert will be less busy than I will be...he and Dad will do whatever it is they do when the girls go away. My mom, sister, and I will be doing a great deal of wedding things this weekend. The original plan for this weekend was to go for a light hike up in North Georgia, but Dad's horrible travel schedule would have made the weekend exhausting and stressful. So, we've adjusted. On Saturday sometime (I don't know the full details or where we're going), but Mom has made plans for my sister, our very best friend from childhood who got engaged a few weeks ago (Amy), and myself to go look at wedding gowns. I am so excited! My sister's wedding is still a while off...and she's not engaged yet, but she's still wanting to look. I told her it'd be a good time of year to look because they want to have a winter wedding. I figure this time of the year, they're pulling out their fall/winter stock, so my sister will be able to start getting ideas. Our best friend is getting married sometime in April, a month before me. So she and I are sort of in crunch time. I think the significance of this trip requires some background.
In 1994, when I was 12, my sister was 10, and Amy (our next-door neighbor) was 11, Amy's mom was diagnosed with breast cancer...again. It was my sister's 10th birthday, and Mrs. Bonnie pulled my mom into the kitchen with her (while the three of us girls were playing with my sister's presents) and asked my mom if she felt a lump on Mrs. Bonnie's breast. She had gone into remission--it was so low-key the first time that I don't really remember it. It's the second time that I remember best. Mrs. Bonnie fought that cancer as hard as she could; we were a very strong support system because our two households were strongly interlinked. They had moved into the next-door house months after we had moved into our house, and everyone was close in age. Mr. Sam, Mrs. Bonnie, and my parents were about the same age. Their only daughter was in the middle of mine and my sister's ages. It was perfect. Mr. Sam and Mrs. Bonnie were like second parents for my sister and me. My parents were like second parents for Amy. We loved each other like we were family.
In March, 1996, the cancer killed Mrs. Bonnie. Amy had just turned 13 a month before, I was 14, and my sister was 11. I cannot describe the sadness that overcame both households. Amy had lost her mother. Mr. Sam had lost his closest friend and wife. My mom had lost her best friend. My sister and I had lost our second mom. We were all devastated. Over the years, the healing has been gradual...our households ended up drifting apart because of life issues--Mr. Sam and Amy moved away when I graduated from college. They didn't move far, but they weren't our next-door neighbors anymore. My sister and I were in a different state going to graduate school. Everyone's lives grew in different directions. It makes sense, too...we were all very painful reminders for each other of who we had lost. I think we needed space. We needed to start over.
I'm thrilled to say that in the past couple of years, there has been a great deal of reconciliation and restrengthening of our relationships. I was brought to near hysteria when Amy walked in the door at my engagement party in July--I hadn't seen her in a couple of years, and I wasn't really sure if she was going to be able to come or not. I cannot adequately describe how important it is to have her involved during this time.
Our trip on Saturday carries a great deal of significance for us, as well. After Mrs. Bonnie died, one of the first things Amy said to me in private was, "My mom won't teach me to drive...see me graduate...or be at my wedding." It still brings tears to my eyes to remember that sad fact. I know her wedding will be bittersweet with the absence of her mother. Saturday will be a lot of fun, but I know it will be emotional as well. What girl wouldn't want her mom there while she's trying on wedding dresses for the first time? My mom will serve as a substitute...but she isn't Mrs. Bonnie, and I know that will be thick in the air. Again, I know we will have a wonderful time, and we'll probably be very giddy and silly. But part of me wonders how else Saturday will be like. I'm just happy that we can all be doing this together.
Anyway, despite all the potential sadness, I count this even as a joy. I'm so happy!
This is not supposed to be about exams.
Robert and I are going to do fun wedding errands today. We're going into town to look at tuxes (eehehehe!), and then once we're done there, we'll be visiting the local stationary store to look at our invitations and thank-you notes. We're looking at something else for our save-the-dates. I am so thrilled to get to do this with him, and I am even more thrilled that Robert is happy to do this with me, too. We're not the cookie-cutter affianced couple; Robert is not going to disappear until the wedding day, and I am not going to make decisions alone. This makes us happy, even if our parents (or perhaps it's really just my father who's at least voiced it) are skeptical of Robert's interest in the wedding-planning process. He doesn't get as giddy about it as I do, but his joy comes in different ways. As his fiancée, I can recognize when he is enjoying himself--he doesn't have to flail and speak in higher decibels and flit around to prove to me that he's interested in this process.
Another joy that's forthcoming is this weekend. We're going to be extremely busy, but Robert and I are going to Atlanta to visit my parents. Robert will be less busy than I will be...he and Dad will do whatever it is they do when the girls go away. My mom, sister, and I will be doing a great deal of wedding things this weekend. The original plan for this weekend was to go for a light hike up in North Georgia, but Dad's horrible travel schedule would have made the weekend exhausting and stressful. So, we've adjusted. On Saturday sometime (I don't know the full details or where we're going), but Mom has made plans for my sister, our very best friend from childhood who got engaged a few weeks ago (Amy), and myself to go look at wedding gowns. I am so excited! My sister's wedding is still a while off...and she's not engaged yet, but she's still wanting to look. I told her it'd be a good time of year to look because they want to have a winter wedding. I figure this time of the year, they're pulling out their fall/winter stock, so my sister will be able to start getting ideas. Our best friend is getting married sometime in April, a month before me. So she and I are sort of in crunch time. I think the significance of this trip requires some background.
In 1994, when I was 12, my sister was 10, and Amy (our next-door neighbor) was 11, Amy's mom was diagnosed with breast cancer...again. It was my sister's 10th birthday, and Mrs. Bonnie pulled my mom into the kitchen with her (while the three of us girls were playing with my sister's presents) and asked my mom if she felt a lump on Mrs. Bonnie's breast. She had gone into remission--it was so low-key the first time that I don't really remember it. It's the second time that I remember best. Mrs. Bonnie fought that cancer as hard as she could; we were a very strong support system because our two households were strongly interlinked. They had moved into the next-door house months after we had moved into our house, and everyone was close in age. Mr. Sam, Mrs. Bonnie, and my parents were about the same age. Their only daughter was in the middle of mine and my sister's ages. It was perfect. Mr. Sam and Mrs. Bonnie were like second parents for my sister and me. My parents were like second parents for Amy. We loved each other like we were family.
In March, 1996, the cancer killed Mrs. Bonnie. Amy had just turned 13 a month before, I was 14, and my sister was 11. I cannot describe the sadness that overcame both households. Amy had lost her mother. Mr. Sam had lost his closest friend and wife. My mom had lost her best friend. My sister and I had lost our second mom. We were all devastated. Over the years, the healing has been gradual...our households ended up drifting apart because of life issues--Mr. Sam and Amy moved away when I graduated from college. They didn't move far, but they weren't our next-door neighbors anymore. My sister and I were in a different state going to graduate school. Everyone's lives grew in different directions. It makes sense, too...we were all very painful reminders for each other of who we had lost. I think we needed space. We needed to start over.
I'm thrilled to say that in the past couple of years, there has been a great deal of reconciliation and restrengthening of our relationships. I was brought to near hysteria when Amy walked in the door at my engagement party in July--I hadn't seen her in a couple of years, and I wasn't really sure if she was going to be able to come or not. I cannot adequately describe how important it is to have her involved during this time.
Our trip on Saturday carries a great deal of significance for us, as well. After Mrs. Bonnie died, one of the first things Amy said to me in private was, "My mom won't teach me to drive...see me graduate...or be at my wedding." It still brings tears to my eyes to remember that sad fact. I know her wedding will be bittersweet with the absence of her mother. Saturday will be a lot of fun, but I know it will be emotional as well. What girl wouldn't want her mom there while she's trying on wedding dresses for the first time? My mom will serve as a substitute...but she isn't Mrs. Bonnie, and I know that will be thick in the air. Again, I know we will have a wonderful time, and we'll probably be very giddy and silly. But part of me wonders how else Saturday will be like. I'm just happy that we can all be doing this together.
Anyway, despite all the potential sadness, I count this even as a joy. I'm so happy!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Photo hike
I didn't want to tarnish my fun wedding dress story with the adventure that happened directly afterward. But the short story is that I had a flat tire just after dropping my sister off at her apartment. I had to be towed by AAA, and I had a friend come pick me up.
On Sunday morning, because I didn't have my car, the same friend and I met up with another Amanda at the Forest Ecology Reserve nearby for a photo hike. My friend and I are not very well educated on the operation of our little digital cameras, but the other Amanda (A. Mo for short) is a budding photographer in her own right. So, A. Mo took us to this nice little nature walk and taught us the ins and outs of our cameras as well as rules of photography that would almost guarantee beautiful photos.
I uploaded my photos (uncropped or edited) on Facebook for perusal.
One of the rules that really stuck with me was that we should make the camera see what we see. Keeping that rule in mind, I was able to take much more artistic photographs than I ever have. I'd like to take them to Walgreens for development and then mount them on matboard or something likewise cheap and easy (but that looks nice) and put them in my office. My office has a lot of wall decorations, but many of the things are old and left over from my time here as a Master's student. I would like to throw some of this stuff away (along with their memories and connotations) and start afresh with nicer, calmer images.
On Sunday morning, because I didn't have my car, the same friend and I met up with another Amanda at the Forest Ecology Reserve nearby for a photo hike. My friend and I are not very well educated on the operation of our little digital cameras, but the other Amanda (A. Mo for short) is a budding photographer in her own right. So, A. Mo took us to this nice little nature walk and taught us the ins and outs of our cameras as well as rules of photography that would almost guarantee beautiful photos.
I uploaded my photos (uncropped or edited) on Facebook for perusal.
One of the rules that really stuck with me was that we should make the camera see what we see. Keeping that rule in mind, I was able to take much more artistic photographs than I ever have. I'd like to take them to Walgreens for development and then mount them on matboard or something likewise cheap and easy (but that looks nice) and put them in my office. My office has a lot of wall decorations, but many of the things are old and left over from my time here as a Master's student. I would like to throw some of this stuff away (along with their memories and connotations) and start afresh with nicer, calmer images.
Wedding dress shopping
Now, because my fiancé has access to and occasionally reads this blog, I won't go into many details here except to say that on Saturday morning, my sister and I went to look at wedding dresses. I haven't made it to the "trying-on" stage yet because I still haven't completely found my style, although I did develop a crush on a few dresses this weekend. Maybe I'll start trying them on next weekend when I go shopping with my mom.
We went to David's Bridal, and when we walked in the door, we both looked at each other and said, "Uh-oh." There's a desk at the front of the store, and we were both certain that an appointment was required to walk in and look around. Fortunately, the appointments are for trying the dresses on; customers are asked to register with the store before looking around, but they are welcome to look around by themselves. We started in the bridesmaids section because I wasn't quite ready to leap into the wedding dresses yet--I needed to warm up a little. I showed my sister the dresses I had seen online, letting her comment on the styles that I selected. We looked at bridesmaids dresses for her wedding (which will be about a year and a half after mine--no, she's not engaged yet, but they have a timeline arranged), and I offered my opinions on those styles as well. After about forty-five minutes of bridesmaids dresses, we finally wandered to the other side of the store where the bridal gowns were. We pulled dresses out of the slits in their bags to see them better and to feel the fabrics, remarking on the style and shape and color of the gowns, wondering to ourselves if we were interested in this one or that one. There were about three or four that I ended up referring to as "my dress" by the time we were finished looking around.
Robert, my sister, her boyfriend, and I are all going up to my parents' home next weekend. Mom wants to go looking at wedding dresses with my sister and I, so we're probably going to go do that. I wonder if I'll try anything on! :)
I'm finally starting to get really really excited about the wedding day--up until now, I've been mostly excited about the marriage. The wedding day is starting to materialize into a more realistic vision for me, and I can finally have something to get excited about.
We went to David's Bridal, and when we walked in the door, we both looked at each other and said, "Uh-oh." There's a desk at the front of the store, and we were both certain that an appointment was required to walk in and look around. Fortunately, the appointments are for trying the dresses on; customers are asked to register with the store before looking around, but they are welcome to look around by themselves. We started in the bridesmaids section because I wasn't quite ready to leap into the wedding dresses yet--I needed to warm up a little. I showed my sister the dresses I had seen online, letting her comment on the styles that I selected. We looked at bridesmaids dresses for her wedding (which will be about a year and a half after mine--no, she's not engaged yet, but they have a timeline arranged), and I offered my opinions on those styles as well. After about forty-five minutes of bridesmaids dresses, we finally wandered to the other side of the store where the bridal gowns were. We pulled dresses out of the slits in their bags to see them better and to feel the fabrics, remarking on the style and shape and color of the gowns, wondering to ourselves if we were interested in this one or that one. There were about three or four that I ended up referring to as "my dress" by the time we were finished looking around.
Robert, my sister, her boyfriend, and I are all going up to my parents' home next weekend. Mom wants to go looking at wedding dresses with my sister and I, so we're probably going to go do that. I wonder if I'll try anything on! :)
I'm finally starting to get really really excited about the wedding day--up until now, I've been mostly excited about the marriage. The wedding day is starting to materialize into a more realistic vision for me, and I can finally have something to get excited about.
Classroom woes
After witnessing a high school classroom for the first time since I'd been a student, I returned to my own college classroom, hoping for the relief that comes with knowing that one's students are better than others'. I was disappointed.
On Wednesday, my 2 p.m. class argued with me during a quiz--during a quiz! The way I conduct my quizzes is to call out the questions to them; that way, stragglers are punished for straggling because missed questions are not repeated for latecomers. As I called out questions, my class, who has had several other quizzes thus far, talked the entire time--to me! They were arguing, pleading, wondering aloud, goading me for hints. I had never seen such ridiculous behavior from them all semester. I finally got to a point where I nearly told them to shut up, but I was able to restrain myself mostly. The rest of class was a continuation of that scene as they talked loudly throughout my lecture, trying to get themselves and each other off-topic. Although they were talking to me rather than each other during the quiz and lecture, I found it incredibly distracting for the learning of their classmates. I'll get into learning environments in a moment.
On Friday, my 2 p.m. class decided that they felt like whining. I walked in, and the first sentence directed to me was, "Ms. W, do we have a quiz today?" (Note: this should be read in a whiny voice.) I did not make eye contact and instead looked directly at my notes and said, "No." The student sighed in relief...and then asked, tentatively, "Oh...does that mean we have to have one of those in-class reading responses then?" I just smiled at her and she responded, "NO! Can we please have a quiz instead?? Please??" I shook my head and just went to the board to write the assignment up.
As I had my back turned toward them, I heard, "Oh man, I hate it when it rains. I'm so tired. I can't believe we have to write today. I know, I just had a lot of writing in my last class. Yeah, I had a test in my last class. I have a huge math test after this one, and just want to study today in class instead. Man, my hand is going to hurt so bad after this. My head is going to hurt so bad after this! I just want to go home. Heh, I think I feel like complaining today. Me too, I feel like complaining today, too. Yeah, me too." At this time, I whipped around and said, "How about we all stop complaining, RIGHT NOW?" My students shut up and hung their heads down.
Then, I went on with the lesson for the day, which was to write for the whole hour, focusing almost entirely on arguable thesis statements. I told them, "You will get your second paper assignment next week sometime, and you will not write the same level of papers as you did for the first assignment. They did not meet expectations, and I am not grading papers like that again." So, Friday's in-class response had the goal of practicing argumentation skills. My 2 p.m. class mostly stopped annoying me at that point, although I did have to tell a student to take out his earbuds. He looked at me as if completely stunned and confused--uhm, excuse me, I have a very clear "no cell phones, no music devices" policy. Turn off the damn iPod and write your response; I don't care if music helps you write better. Not in class.
My 3 p.m. class, which is generally as entertaining as an oil painting, generally followed the rules, except that they seemed to blank when I told them they'd be writing for the entire class time. I had a few students come up to me (all packed up and ready to go) at twenty-past to turn in their papers and leave. I shook my head and said, "Sit back down. There's thirty minutes left in class." They'd respond, "But Ms. W, I'm done." I'd respond, "No, you're not. Keep working on it and make it stronger than it is now." What stunned me was that after this exchange took place with one student (loudly in front of a class who made eye contact with me while I reprimanded him), students still attempted to leave early. They got antsy with a couple minutes left in class, but I am not interested in being bullied into dismissing class. So, I lingered a little while on my final class announcements before allowing them to leave.
The frustrations of teaching this age group: they truly believe that they are entitled to an education which they can command to their whims.
On Wednesday, my 2 p.m. class argued with me during a quiz--during a quiz! The way I conduct my quizzes is to call out the questions to them; that way, stragglers are punished for straggling because missed questions are not repeated for latecomers. As I called out questions, my class, who has had several other quizzes thus far, talked the entire time--to me! They were arguing, pleading, wondering aloud, goading me for hints. I had never seen such ridiculous behavior from them all semester. I finally got to a point where I nearly told them to shut up, but I was able to restrain myself mostly. The rest of class was a continuation of that scene as they talked loudly throughout my lecture, trying to get themselves and each other off-topic. Although they were talking to me rather than each other during the quiz and lecture, I found it incredibly distracting for the learning of their classmates. I'll get into learning environments in a moment.
On Friday, my 2 p.m. class decided that they felt like whining. I walked in, and the first sentence directed to me was, "Ms. W, do we have a quiz today?" (Note: this should be read in a whiny voice.) I did not make eye contact and instead looked directly at my notes and said, "No." The student sighed in relief...and then asked, tentatively, "Oh...does that mean we have to have one of those in-class reading responses then?" I just smiled at her and she responded, "NO! Can we please have a quiz instead?? Please??" I shook my head and just went to the board to write the assignment up.
As I had my back turned toward them, I heard, "Oh man, I hate it when it rains. I'm so tired. I can't believe we have to write today. I know, I just had a lot of writing in my last class. Yeah, I had a test in my last class. I have a huge math test after this one, and just want to study today in class instead. Man, my hand is going to hurt so bad after this. My head is going to hurt so bad after this! I just want to go home. Heh, I think I feel like complaining today. Me too, I feel like complaining today, too. Yeah, me too." At this time, I whipped around and said, "How about we all stop complaining, RIGHT NOW?" My students shut up and hung their heads down.
Then, I went on with the lesson for the day, which was to write for the whole hour, focusing almost entirely on arguable thesis statements. I told them, "You will get your second paper assignment next week sometime, and you will not write the same level of papers as you did for the first assignment. They did not meet expectations, and I am not grading papers like that again." So, Friday's in-class response had the goal of practicing argumentation skills. My 2 p.m. class mostly stopped annoying me at that point, although I did have to tell a student to take out his earbuds. He looked at me as if completely stunned and confused--uhm, excuse me, I have a very clear "no cell phones, no music devices" policy. Turn off the damn iPod and write your response; I don't care if music helps you write better. Not in class.
My 3 p.m. class, which is generally as entertaining as an oil painting, generally followed the rules, except that they seemed to blank when I told them they'd be writing for the entire class time. I had a few students come up to me (all packed up and ready to go) at twenty-past to turn in their papers and leave. I shook my head and said, "Sit back down. There's thirty minutes left in class." They'd respond, "But Ms. W, I'm done." I'd respond, "No, you're not. Keep working on it and make it stronger than it is now." What stunned me was that after this exchange took place with one student (loudly in front of a class who made eye contact with me while I reprimanded him), students still attempted to leave early. They got antsy with a couple minutes left in class, but I am not interested in being bullied into dismissing class. So, I lingered a little while on my final class announcements before allowing them to leave.
The frustrations of teaching this age group: they truly believe that they are entitled to an education which they can command to their whims.
Guest lecturing
Last Thursday, Robert and I went to guest lecture at the high school where he had had his internship. We were there to introduce Shakespeare to high school seniors.
When we arrived at the high school, we walked into the office and got our visitor passes. One of the office managers was completely unaware of the change Robert has made, so Robert very diplomatically explained that he was no longer an intern for the high school. He didn't go into details because he knows that there is a reason why everyone has kept the decision under wraps--educators are very big on reputation and appearances, so he respected that. We walked down the hall to his senior classroom, where I proceeded to get butterflies in my stomach. I was starting to feel so nervous and excited and just wanted to get it over with. We made it to his old classroom a few minutes before the bell rang (haha--the bell! It'd been so long since I'd been in a high school!), which scared me when it did ring. I was able to talk to his former lead teacher for a little while about pedagogical interests and techniques as well as the doctoral program.
The students eventually started to file in, and my nerves flitted away--I donned my teaching persona, which is confident and calm. Robert passed out the handout that I created (simply a timeline of important dates in Shakespeare's life), and then I proceeded to sort of talk them through it. I'm not interested in reading handouts to people for a living, so instead I used the handout as a reminder of what year I was discussing, and then elaborated on that particular date. Robert had to interrupt me because he had forgotten to tell me that the lunch bell would ring a few minutes into our lecture. I was pretty bewildered by a lunch bell that rings only fifteen minutes into class, but I didn't protest. He and I hung out in the classroom while his lead teacher and students ran out the door to get Thursday chicken...apparently the cafeteria specialty. I was reminded of NGCSU's Sunday chicken and the mad dash required to procure a tasty piece.
The students returned, and where they had been hungry and lethargic for the first part of the lecture, they were now full and lethargic for the last half. There were quite a few who started to fall asleep on me, so I asked them questions to get them to wake up (as I do in my own college classroom). Once we had finished with the handout, Robert elaborated a little on the play they were reading ("The Scottish Play"...I don't know who might be reading this post within the walls of a theatre ;)). They then became very interested in our engagement and wedding plans. Before we made it to the high school, Robert and I had both hoped that they wouldn't have made that connection because we knew it would distract them and detract from my ethos. But, alas, his lead teacher, when introducing me, said, "And this is Robert's fiancée, Ms. W who is here to talk to us about Shakespeare." *sigh*
Lecturing was fine, although I did thank my lucky stars that I did not go down the secondary education route after all. I had considered it for a time when I was an undergrad, but I ultimately chose English Literature for my degree and then to move on to my MA and PhD. The lead teacher was a nice enough woman, but I wasn't confident in her ability to have control over her classroom. There is an actual limit to what a secondary education teacher can do to control her classroom anyway, and I wasn't sure she was exhausting those limitations. When I lose control over my classroom in college, I have a great deal more freedom, such as kicking students out of the class and then giving them an unexcused absence for the day. Can't do that in high school because then Mom and Dad will be riding Teacher's ass all semester long. As we were walking out, I took Robert's hand and said, "You know...I trusted you before about your decision, but now I think I understand it a lot better. You don't belong there and you would have only been miserable for three more months." We're still awaiting a decision to be made by the admissions committee, although Robert's complete application has been submitted.
When we arrived at the high school, we walked into the office and got our visitor passes. One of the office managers was completely unaware of the change Robert has made, so Robert very diplomatically explained that he was no longer an intern for the high school. He didn't go into details because he knows that there is a reason why everyone has kept the decision under wraps--educators are very big on reputation and appearances, so he respected that. We walked down the hall to his senior classroom, where I proceeded to get butterflies in my stomach. I was starting to feel so nervous and excited and just wanted to get it over with. We made it to his old classroom a few minutes before the bell rang (haha--the bell! It'd been so long since I'd been in a high school!), which scared me when it did ring. I was able to talk to his former lead teacher for a little while about pedagogical interests and techniques as well as the doctoral program.
The students eventually started to file in, and my nerves flitted away--I donned my teaching persona, which is confident and calm. Robert passed out the handout that I created (simply a timeline of important dates in Shakespeare's life), and then I proceeded to sort of talk them through it. I'm not interested in reading handouts to people for a living, so instead I used the handout as a reminder of what year I was discussing, and then elaborated on that particular date. Robert had to interrupt me because he had forgotten to tell me that the lunch bell would ring a few minutes into our lecture. I was pretty bewildered by a lunch bell that rings only fifteen minutes into class, but I didn't protest. He and I hung out in the classroom while his lead teacher and students ran out the door to get Thursday chicken...apparently the cafeteria specialty. I was reminded of NGCSU's Sunday chicken and the mad dash required to procure a tasty piece.
The students returned, and where they had been hungry and lethargic for the first part of the lecture, they were now full and lethargic for the last half. There were quite a few who started to fall asleep on me, so I asked them questions to get them to wake up (as I do in my own college classroom). Once we had finished with the handout, Robert elaborated a little on the play they were reading ("The Scottish Play"...I don't know who might be reading this post within the walls of a theatre ;)). They then became very interested in our engagement and wedding plans. Before we made it to the high school, Robert and I had both hoped that they wouldn't have made that connection because we knew it would distract them and detract from my ethos. But, alas, his lead teacher, when introducing me, said, "And this is Robert's fiancée, Ms. W who is here to talk to us about Shakespeare." *sigh*
Lecturing was fine, although I did thank my lucky stars that I did not go down the secondary education route after all. I had considered it for a time when I was an undergrad, but I ultimately chose English Literature for my degree and then to move on to my MA and PhD. The lead teacher was a nice enough woman, but I wasn't confident in her ability to have control over her classroom. There is an actual limit to what a secondary education teacher can do to control her classroom anyway, and I wasn't sure she was exhausting those limitations. When I lose control over my classroom in college, I have a great deal more freedom, such as kicking students out of the class and then giving them an unexcused absence for the day. Can't do that in high school because then Mom and Dad will be riding Teacher's ass all semester long. As we were walking out, I took Robert's hand and said, "You know...I trusted you before about your decision, but now I think I understand it a lot better. You don't belong there and you would have only been miserable for three more months." We're still awaiting a decision to be made by the admissions committee, although Robert's complete application has been submitted.
Running Class
This running class is really starting to get to me. I spent a great deal of the past several runs feeling miserable, unmotivated, and discouraged. My sister and I have decided that the class is too advanced for us, but since we've already paid we're not going to give up. Instead, we're going to tailor our own running experience based entirely on our individual needs. We both bought our own stopwatches, and we're going to run at our own intervals. When those intervals become too difficult, then we will increase them accordingly. I don't want to quit this class entirely, but I do need proper motivation. Feeling like a loser after every run is not the way to motivate me.
I don't want to seem as though the instructor is bad or is doing anything wrong herself. She's not. The only shortcoming I can identify is that she was overly ambitious in her goals--thinking that everyone who signed up for the class would be capable of the pace and intervals that she set out is not quite accurate. Some of us are recovering from surgery. Some of us aren't very active, and what activity we do get is not from running. Some of us don't exercise as frequently as the class meets and aren't used to putting our bodies through such rigor. My sister and I meet most of those categories (although I meet all of them); so we're going to do this our own way.
Today, when we get to the gym, we are going to run around the lake at the old interval of 2 minutes running, 4 minutes walking. Last week the class did 5 minutes running, 2.5 minutes walking. I didn't. I ran on the treadmill for 3 and 3. (But I've been learning that treadmill training is much different and easier than running on the concrete.) This week, I think the class will be going for 7 minutes running, 2 minutes walking. I know that there is no way I'd be able to do that at this point. And it isn't for want of trying--my body just isn't ready for that level of intensity. So, my sister and I will be doing the best we can.
And it's like what we've been telling each other and ourselves: nobody can fault us for moving, even if we are moving differently from the rest of the class.
I'm hoping that changing the pace according to our needs will give me a better sense of accomplishment and motivation.
I don't want to seem as though the instructor is bad or is doing anything wrong herself. She's not. The only shortcoming I can identify is that she was overly ambitious in her goals--thinking that everyone who signed up for the class would be capable of the pace and intervals that she set out is not quite accurate. Some of us are recovering from surgery. Some of us aren't very active, and what activity we do get is not from running. Some of us don't exercise as frequently as the class meets and aren't used to putting our bodies through such rigor. My sister and I meet most of those categories (although I meet all of them); so we're going to do this our own way.
Today, when we get to the gym, we are going to run around the lake at the old interval of 2 minutes running, 4 minutes walking. Last week the class did 5 minutes running, 2.5 minutes walking. I didn't. I ran on the treadmill for 3 and 3. (But I've been learning that treadmill training is much different and easier than running on the concrete.) This week, I think the class will be going for 7 minutes running, 2 minutes walking. I know that there is no way I'd be able to do that at this point. And it isn't for want of trying--my body just isn't ready for that level of intensity. So, my sister and I will be doing the best we can.
And it's like what we've been telling each other and ourselves: nobody can fault us for moving, even if we are moving differently from the rest of the class.
I'm hoping that changing the pace according to our needs will give me a better sense of accomplishment and motivation.
Mole biopsy result
I had to call the dermatologist over two weeks after my mole had been biopsied (half a week after they had told me to expect a phone call from them). There are two parts to the results:
1. It's not melanoma.
2. It is an atypical cluster of cells.
The good news is that it was small enough to be entirely removed for the biopsy and the margins were clean, so I wasn't required to return to the dermatologist (who won't be covered by my insurance anyway). Although it wasn't melanoma, this was the second mole in under a year that I've had removed from my body to come back as atypical. The first mole was labeled as "moderately atypical," which is between mild and severe, meaning that it wasn't a scary threat, but it was a threat nonetheless. This one didn't have a label other than "atypical," so I'm guessing that means it wasn't severe. The different qualifications of atypicality have to do with the number of atypical cells floating around in the biopsy, as well as their frequency and proximity with each other. My paternal aunt does have melanoma, and apparently there is a (newly revealed) family history of aggressive melanoma on my father's side. This is newly revealed because my grandmother does not ever want to discuss unpleasantries, no matter whose medical records it hurts.
What this means for me is that I will have yearly mole checks from a dermatologist to remove any new or malformed moles. I have to keep a very close watch on my skin from now on, which can be a little difficult, considering that my body is covered in freckles. Fortunately, I, like most freckled people, know the pattern of my freckles, and will be able to keep track of most changes...although, it is true that there are some cases when freckles migrate or grow, so I'll certainly be watching out for new developments.
I'm relieved it wasn't melanoma, but I'm annoyed that it was atypical at all. Part of me just wishes that the biopsy had come back clean. But maybe then I'd be annoyed for having a very large wound on my hip for nothing. The biopsy site still hasn't completely healed, although it has mostly stopped hurting--every once in a while I have a twinge where it's healing.
1. It's not melanoma.
2. It is an atypical cluster of cells.
The good news is that it was small enough to be entirely removed for the biopsy and the margins were clean, so I wasn't required to return to the dermatologist (who won't be covered by my insurance anyway). Although it wasn't melanoma, this was the second mole in under a year that I've had removed from my body to come back as atypical. The first mole was labeled as "moderately atypical," which is between mild and severe, meaning that it wasn't a scary threat, but it was a threat nonetheless. This one didn't have a label other than "atypical," so I'm guessing that means it wasn't severe. The different qualifications of atypicality have to do with the number of atypical cells floating around in the biopsy, as well as their frequency and proximity with each other. My paternal aunt does have melanoma, and apparently there is a (newly revealed) family history of aggressive melanoma on my father's side. This is newly revealed because my grandmother does not ever want to discuss unpleasantries, no matter whose medical records it hurts.
What this means for me is that I will have yearly mole checks from a dermatologist to remove any new or malformed moles. I have to keep a very close watch on my skin from now on, which can be a little difficult, considering that my body is covered in freckles. Fortunately, I, like most freckled people, know the pattern of my freckles, and will be able to keep track of most changes...although, it is true that there are some cases when freckles migrate or grow, so I'll certainly be watching out for new developments.
I'm relieved it wasn't melanoma, but I'm annoyed that it was atypical at all. Part of me just wishes that the biopsy had come back clean. But maybe then I'd be annoyed for having a very large wound on my hip for nothing. The biopsy site still hasn't completely healed, although it has mostly stopped hurting--every once in a while I have a twinge where it's healing.
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