A very merry un-birthday to Rogue Cheerios!

So, my one year anniversary of the blog came and went with little fanfare yesterday.  I can hardly believe that I have been blogging for a whole year.  My husband can hardly believe it either.

When I first thought about blogging, I was worried and self-conscious about my writing. I wasn’t sure how the blog would take shape or if people would read it. I felt a little paralyzed just trying to begin something.

Like my course-prep, I was overthinking it.

A local writer friend told me, “You just don’t know what it’s going to be yet.”

In the last year, this advice has echoed and reverberated in the recesses of my brain, reminding me that we have so little control over what happens in life.  It’s best to make something that makes you proud and hope others will enjoy it, too. [He will be happy to know that this advice applies nearly universally to an academic career like mine.]

From my humblest first post to my proud Freshly Pressed moment this past July, through frustrations with graduate school and academia, and on parenting highs and lows, I am amazed and grateful for Rogue Cheerios readers and for the connections I’ve made as a result of the blog.  Whether in person or in virtual space, your words of encouragement, your support, and your feedback, have bolstered my confidence as a writer, teacher and parent.

I am so proud of all that I’ve accomplished this year and I hope you’ll stick with me to see what’s on the horizon for this little blog in year two.

Shanah Tovah!

Posted in academia, blogging, community, lessons learned, motherhood, parenthood, personal, writing | 2 Comments

What I Did On My Summer Vacation (2013 edition)

I have been struggling to find the right words or images to capture the last few months. How exactly do you get the essence of what we did into a short, sweet blog post?

So many things happened this summer. 

I finished graduate school and tried to decompress from spring semester. We went exploring on hikes and in parks. We “farmed” in the yard and grew one dozen green beans (and zero cucumbers/summer squash).  We swam at the pool. We made so much art. And we ate loads of yummy food.  With a boost from my Freshly Pressed feature, blog readership started to grow. I dragged the kiddos to farmer’s markets all over the state. We trekked to the berry farms a half-dozen times. I saw the beach three times in three places–once with my husband (and no kids), once with the kids (and no husband), and once all together.  

All things being equal, it was a mild, awesome summer.

But this past weekend, this last weekend of summer, I snapped an image that stopped my heart for a second.  And in that instant, I lived the whole summer over again. 

"Sister, let's run!"

“Sister, let’s run!”

Posted in family, kids, marriage, motherhood, parenthood, personal, summer, vacation | Leave a comment

Unfounded parenting guilt on the first day of school

In my four years as a parent, I have not found one person who thought that they had it together all of the time.  I have met some folks who project a put-together image and I have met some folks who never seem like they have things under control.  I fall squarely in the middle–not totally put-together and not falling apart. Solidly okay.

As a parent, it’s normal (and expected) that not a day passes when you wonder if you’ve just gone and screwed everything up for your child.  Of the approximately 1,642 days I have been a parent, there is at least one moment every day where I question what I’m doing.  Am I messing this up? Forget this crazy world we live in–will my kids survive me as their parent?

Navigating parenthood and academia presents a whole new set of challenges.  Even though for the better part of the last ten years, my life has followed an academic calendar, I’m feeling especially unsettled with the change of the school year. It is a time of transition in our family.  I am no longer starting the school year as a graduate student.  I am now a (temporary) faculty member. The girls are starting a new preschool, leaving our other school where we’ve brought them since they were each six months old.  Before we can even start the year off right, our Jewish holidays fall right in the middle of these new transitions.  

Though it’s a transition for everyone, my new juggling, balancing, working life feels out of control.  This year’s first day of school feels different to me.  I feel pulled in many directions. I feel bogged down with work. I feel nervous and excited for the coming academic year. I never thought I would be such a baby about the kids switching preschools, but apparently, I’m a crier.  And I’m not a cute crier. So the first impression I’m making to many faces is a stressed out, weepy mess.  Okay, it’s not that bad.  Really, though, I feel mostly unprepared, like I’m putting the worst version of my self forward.

But the summer is over, and I also feel sad because in the summer, I get to be full-time-ish mom.  And being full-time-ish mom is mostly awesome. We splash around the pool and explore the playground. We sing together in the car. We have inside jokes that send us into hysterics.  I discover this silly, carefree side of myself when I am a work-in-the-home parent.

When school starts, it’s back to reality for everyone.  Except just before school starts, our precious routine, or lack of routine, brings out the very worst in all of us.  All of a sudden, the late nights, the extra ice cream, the amusement park rides, the fireworks, the playground trips, all bring out the very worst in my children and subsequently in me. They’re beyond over-tired and for once they’re speechless with fatigue and frustration. They bicker and whine endlessly.  Just before they begin their school year at daycare and preschool, they are driving me insane.  And I am reminded that being a work-out-of-the-home parent isn’t so terrible after all.

And then the guilt creeps in. I feel guilty that I am not home with them.  And I feel guilty that my syllabi sit unfinished on my desk at work.

This time of year, the start of the school year, is tough on everyone.  After a summer without structure, suddenly kids and their grownups find themselves back on a schedule, back in a routine, and getting back into it takes time.

Talk to me in two weeks. I’m pretty sure we’ll be in the swing of things and this unsettled day will feel like a distant memory, just like fourth of July fireworks.

Posted in family, kids, lessons learned, motherhood, parenthood, personal, schools, summer, Uncategorized, vacation, work | 3 Comments

The calm before the storm: on course prep and a reality check

I need to get over myself.

I am doing exactly what I have done for semesters now: I am over prepping my courses.

I’m paralyzed thinking about updating the syllabus for a course I’ve already taught because I know it needs some work.  I’m in the middle of at least 7 books, trying to find just the right chapter to include in my reader.  I’m thinking and thinking about the best way to incentivize students’ engagement with the material, how I’ll manage the writing I plan to assign, and what I’ll do with the old lecture slides I’ve already adapted for old material.

Truthfully, none of this really matters.  The hours I’ll spend agonizing over the right chapter will make little difference to my students.  The language I use to clearly convey my expectations won’t matter either. My course will be one of at least four if not five other courses my students balance.  Some of those students will be thinking about how to get the best grade with the least effort.  Others will be working to please me all semester. Still others will balance the demands of their jobs outside of school and will worry about making ends meet before polishing their paper drafts for my course.

Faculty members think higher education is a transformative experience.  In a conversation with a colleague recently, he admitted that he was unsure if his courses were truly transformative.  And after admitting this out loud, he followed up quickly that his doubt didn’t mean he was giving up on his students.  Students are in higher education for many different reasons.  Beyond the lofty idea that they’re “getting an education,” students are earning an important credential that signals something to the labor market. That credential tells hiring departments that they’ve fulfilled the obligations to be deserving of a college degree but little else about their actual learning. Has their higher education transformed their thinking? We can never be sure.

When I think about my learning objectives, my expectations for my students, my institution, and the business of my own work, all I can hope is that they take away a tidbit from class discussion, that they change their minds about anything, and that they become more contemplative readers and writers.  Reading and writing in this new age of information will be the key to their success.  And those people who can digest, analyze, and create information in its various forms will be successful beyond measure.

All of the course prep in the world can’t prevent things happening in the world.  I might cancel a class or have few students show up.  There could be a national or natural event that interferes with classes and their lives.  They might hate my assignments or they might love them.  All of the thought and care, crafting this syllabus, this testimony to the knowledge I have about the subject and the hopes I have for their own personal development, it is all worthless if I am not able to learn something from them as well.

So I wait to meet them.

Posted in academia, higher education, lessons learned, reading, schools, students, teaching, work, writing | 1 Comment

A tale of two conferences: the postmortem on ASA in New York

Last weekend in New York City was productive and fun. I saw some old friends and met lots several new people (in real life and via Twitter).  I picked up some inventive teaching ideas.  I heard (mostly) first-rate research presentations.  I can’t say that I took all of my conference advice, frantically packing many outfits at the last minute and failing to rehearse my elevator pitch, but I did put myself out there.  Overall, I am really satisfied with my time away.

It’s strange, though, because I felt like I was at two different conferences.  I filled my docket with sessions about teaching, including a full day preconference with a room full of scholarly teachers AND sessions on the sociology of education, my chosen area of study.

I would start the day in a room where folks thought critically about their own teaching strengths, weaknesses, and ways to improve the experience for our undergraduate students in the classroom. These scholarly teachers discussed pedagogical strategies associated with deep learning.  They talked about their love of teaching and all of the ups and downs of the college classroom. The exchange of support and ideas was free-flowing and engaging.  Hell, it was downright inspiring at times to hear others share both their teaching success and their struggles.

Then, I’d switch gears and hit up a traditional research oriented paper session with several panelists discussing their research on education.  These sociology of education scholars examined facets of the larger system from school discipline to teachers’ expectations, to higher education funding (it’s a very big pool to swim in).  Here, the teachers factored into an equation or appeared in the field notes.  Talk of the college classroom was mostly missing, even from the discussion on student learning in higher education.

As a reflexive person, I was watching every presenter intently, trying to learn from their style and their materials.  Scholars who study teaching and who train teachers are quite gifted at modeling ideas for the classroom and at coaxing the best from new and seasoned educators. I picked up a few tricks, saw a few things I would never do, and came away with tons of ideas.

But on my drive home, my mind was spinning. I had been listening, thinking, and tweeting for 3 days (that’s over 500 tweets).  I feel uneasy straddling this world of research and teaching.  My conference time seemed disjointed when I wish it felt seamless.  I’ve been a teacher and a researcher for several years now, well before I was technically Dr. Leventhal-Weiner.  Now that I’m a card-carrying, fully initiated doctor, I’m still negotiating where I fit.

I kept asking myself, What are we doing here? Re-thinking teaching means re-thinking what we hope to accomplish in the classroom and at the institution broadly.  And being a productive researcher sometimes (more often than not, really) means devoting less time to your teaching responsibilities.  Many of my colleagues are perfectly satisfied with being average teachers.  I am not, though.  I take the responsibility of teaching my students very seriously (see here and here).  And because I study educational inequality, I take my research seriously, too.

What’s a girl to do other than feel disappointed? The reality of scholarly life keeps washing over me, reminding me that it is often two-faced. If I choose scholarly teaching, then my work isn’t valid in the discipline. If I choose scholarly research, then inevitably, I’m expected to devote less time to the classroom and my students.  It seems like both are losing propositions for me–something will suffer, right?  I haven’t even mentioned my personal life.

I don’t have too much time to dwell on things, though, because the new semester looms in front of me.  I already have plenty of things to keep me busy.

Posted in academia, higher education, lessons learned, research, sociology, teaching, work, writing | Tagged | Leave a comment

Surviving (and thriving) at the annual academic meeting

Two thousand sociologists in one place? Sounds like a crazy time.

This will be the eighth year that I’ll attend an academic conference.  I try to go to two meetings a year (one local and one national), depending on where they’re taking place and if I can find funding to subsidize travel costs.  I find these meetings to be really helpful to my professional life.  Ever since I’ve been active on Twitter, I also find it’s great to connect with other folks via social media and that contributes further to my knowledge base and social network.  Plus, I’m a social person so conferences really work for me.  I am comfortable talking to people about my research or <gasp> my personal life.

Last week, I read a few posts on attending conferences (one on scatterplot and another here) and thought I’d chronicle some realistic and supportive thoughts, too.

Some lessons learned from past conferences:

  • Take yourself seriously.  Impostor tweetImpostor syndrome is a thing and you may feel it at the annual meeting.  As someone with little status, it is easy to feel like an impostor or an outsider at the annual meeting.  It looks like everyone knows everyone else.  It feels like everyone is staring at your name tag trying to feel superior, jockeying for exposure, and generally posturing.  It is possible that folks from your own department or graduate program may not (or choose not) notice you.  Who cares?  No one is going to stop you and demand an explanation for why you’re there.  Know that you have something to contribute and feel good about it.
  • Be prepared to discuss what you study. That doesn’t mean rehearse it, but be prepared to answer the stock questions about your dissertation or your research. Think about your elevator speech so you’re not caught off guard when you have to deliver it.
  • Remember that “fame” is a social construct.  Sure, there will be “famous” people around–people you would die to meet or who you’d love to have a coffee with and drool over their research.  Just remember that they’re famous in the discipline and in person they’re regular people.  When I tell my husband about the folks I met, he shrugs his shoulders at me.  [Sidenote: my husband works for a sports news agency (#humblebrag) and he sees actual famous people of kinds all the time. My famous sociologists are really lost on him.]
  • Learn something new.  There is general malaise about the quality of paper panels, but papers aren’t the only thing happening at the conference.  There are workshops on teaching and research strategies, book discussions, movie screenings, and panels on professionalization issues.  Attending non-paper sessions puts you in touch with people you might not have otherwise met.  Hell, last year, someone just sat my coffee break table and struck up a conversation about the meeting.  It was pretty old school in terms of social networking, but I learned about his institution and some of his teaching challenges.  Most people are disillusioned after attending too many annual meetings, but there is a chance to actually learn something or meet someone.  So do that.
  • Follow up.  When you get home, connect with folks you met or dig up things you learned.  You want to catch people when they’re fresh off the meeting.  Thank them for their time (if you met with them) and send anything you promised to send.  Build your social capital.

Some practical advice:

  • Think about what you’re going to wear.  You will feel good if you look professional and hip.  I do, anyway.  If you’re an American sociologist, remember that our annual meeting is held in August so you have several issues to contend with: climate (it’s 100 degrees outside and 50 degrees inside) and distance (conference centers tend to be huge).  If you’re a lady, throw some flip flops in your work bag (they’re flat and they’re a huge relief when you have tons of blisters from fancy, professional shoes).  Think about layering so you can be warm in the frigid conference rooms and breezy when you’re tooling around the city outside of the conference hotels.  Give some thought to both day and night ensembles, too.  There are receptions and get togethers and you want to feel (and look) good at your presentation and your section dinner.
  • Plan your day ahead so you can walk with intention.  File this advice under “fake it til you make it” but there is nothing worse than fumbling with your program or your schedule and looking altogether out of control when a “famous” sociologist walks by.  Your presentation of self matters, right? Plan ahead so you can feel confident as you navigate the conference.
  • Pack snacks/drink coffee.  You will get hungry.  You will feel tired.  Food and caffeine will help.

What did I forget?  Remind me in the comments!

Hope to see you in real life or on Twitter at the American Sociological Association annual meeting in New York this week!  I’ll be live-tweeting sessions on education, teaching, and poverty and doing my fair share of social networking as well.

Happy conferencing!  

Posted in academia, blogging, coffee, community, fashion, grad school, higher education, lessons learned, sociology, travel, work | Tagged | 1 Comment

Is it possible to have status in academe without tenure?

This past year, I served as a “Visiting Lecturer” at a private, liberal arts college and this coming year, I’ll be a “Visiting Assistant Professor”.  I used to think “visiting” sounded really distinctive, like your talents were so specialized that another department invited you to visit their campus.  I have come to learn that “visiting” simply means “contingent” and carries no special status after all.

This particular visiting position is the kind of job I’d hoped to find after graduate school.  I study the sociology of education and this highly interdisciplinary program focuses on the study of education and schools with a serious commitment to student service in the local school district.  Over the last year, I finished my dissertation while prepping new courses, advising students, participating in college committees and generally being a good citizen of the college.  I feel conflicted about my contingent status because I am making relationships with students, giving them advice about their lives or careers, and I have no guarantee that I’ll be around in another year or so.  I would like to stay there long-term, but when I interviewed, it was made clear to me that no tenure track line would materialize in the coming academic year (or the near future, really).

When I tell local folks that I have a job lined up at this college for the coming academic year, they all seem impressed because the institution is considered an elite place. However, few people understand that the jobs with the most status are the tenure track jobs.  So I go through the exercise of explaining that I’m a contingent faculty member, and when I explain that the position isn’t a tenure-track job, folks stare at me blankly.

Like many new graduate students, I had a romantic idea of what it meant to be a college professor.  I knew little about the hierarchy of graduate programs, the overcrowded job market or the academic publishing machine.  I didn’t understand that it might be necessary to move all over the country for even a short-term appointment or that you might find a tenure-track job but it could take several years.  I did not have great guidance when applying to graduate school and my naiveté lasted for several years into my program.  If I knew then what I know now, I might have made some different choices. Truth be told, my graduate school experience sharpened my intellectual curiosity and honed my analytical skills, and I know that I will find a job where I use my training.  That job just may not be in an Ivory Tower.

Opening myself up to non-academic possibilities, I ask myself nearly a dozen times a week if it is possible to have status in your discipline without tenure?  At its core, tenure was conceived to guarantee “[academic] freedom and economic security”.  Tenure protected faculty members from the possibility of termination by the board of trustees in an era when the trustees wielded direct influence over daily university life. Tenure insured that faculty members could (and would) contribute to our collective body of knowledge without the threat of dismissal for being too radical or contrary. Tenure and academic freedom made important bedfellows.

Tenure has taken on a new life in present day higher education.  While tenure affords scholars flexibility and protection in their work, there is dissension over whether tenure models are sustainable, productive or even useful to a business-centric modern university life.  The pursuit of tenure is a frenzied process where junior faculty members focus on publishing to avoid perishing.  In devoting energy to their enhancing their vita with academic publications, early career folks often say no to other commitments at their institution that could distract them from building their CV.  Tenure is meant to protect academic freedom but often untenured folks are hesitant to try new things in their scholarship because it might adversely affect their tenure prospects.  Once tenure is granted, that faculty member’s future is pretty solid, yet they have no responsibility to their colleagues to be engaged in their department or their institution.  Where tenure was originally conceived to encourage ambition and creativity, now folks on the tenure track may reserve their controversial work for their post-tenure days.

A tenure track job is still considered the ideal academic career for doctoral candidates. However, the availability of these jobs is limited, and when new PhDs are unable to find a tenure track job, they often find themselves working as adjuncts to pay their bills.  The increasing adjunctification of the discipline is a serious issue chronicled in the popular press.  Adjunct work is academia’s dirty little secret and few are willing to recognize that as tenured folks retire, their tenure lines disappear, leaving the same amount of work to be accomplished because student admission and enrollment is expected to trend upward in coming years.  While some (and I mean a very small few) choose to be adjuncts because of the freedom it affords them, cobbling together teaching arrangements at multiple institutions to make a living wage hardly seems like the dream of college professor many fostered at the start of graduate school.  And besides, it seems bad for the system if contingent folks are the ones doing the lion’s share of the teaching.  More tenure track jobs would not necessarily fix the adjunct issue, but fewer would be forced into tenuous employment if tenured positions were maintained rather than replaced by adjuncts. 

As for tenure, I am unsure if I want it.  I feel nervous about writing that and sharing it with the world.  To an early career professional with no long-term stability, the promise of tenure would provide a safety net. But tenure would not change my dedication to my students and my work or my drive to contribute to my institution, my discipline or my local community.  I don’t think I need tenure to spurn productivity in my professional life.  I teach without tenure.  I also research without tenure.  Having worked in higher education for eleven years now, I am deeply committed to serving my institution and my students with or without tenure.

Teaching, research and service (and not in that order) are part of the job description. I always thought that the “life of the mind” meant a combination of these three activities and lucky for me, all three get me out of bed every morning.  I’ll start the new school year doing the same thing I’ve done for the last four years, balancing teaching, advising, service and research.  I’m walking the walk, tenure or not.

Posted in academia, dissertation, grad school, higher education, lessons learned, popular press, sociology, teaching, tenure, work, writing | 7 Comments

I need a remedy [for my Pinterest and Facebook-induced vacation envy]

I’m a little embarrassed to admit in writing that I have vacation and birthday party envy. I attribute this envy to the sharing of photos and status updates on Pinterest and Facebook.  I used to be an avid Pinner and status updater but my time has been spare lately and I want my daughters to see my eyes on them and not the smartphone screen. I’m trying to keep the envy at bay but summer is flying by and it seems like people are on an endless vacation (and I’m stuck at home).

I know feeling vacation envy is pretty irrational.  Those perfect Facebook pictures of the fireworks at the beach were most likely taken in between whining about the heat or bickering between siblings (or bickering between parents).  Those perfectly coordinated, patriotic outfits were likely the result of a wrestling match on the beach house floor.  The perfect arrangement of three generations of family likely lasted for a second.  Still, I’m longing for a patriotic, fireworks, beach getaway of my own surrounded by three generations of my family clad in pastel matching duds.  Even if it’s not perfect.

But it’s not just vacation envy.  I have birthday party envy, too, but suffer less because I’m willing to be a little more creative.  I am a firm believer in making birthdays very special because it’s the one day during the year when people get to actually be the center of their own universe and celebrate themselves.  I take this job very seriously when it comes to my myself and my kids (now that I have them).  When my older daughter turned four this past March and requested a Snow White party, I took the Snow White theme to great heights.  At first I resisted Pin-spiration, but succumbed and searched Pinterest, thinking, maybe someone has made balloon trees and sure enough–balloon trees were a thing!  I thought I invented them!

Balloon trees are a thing!

Balloon trees are a thing!

I made blue birds and robins out of felt and fashioned bouquets of pipe cleaner flowers.  I went to a new level of crazy over her party even though she’d never seen Snow White except for in a storybook.  I’ve observed the same obsessiveness at friends’ Superhero or Princess celebrations with banners, cupcake toppers, and the like.  Have we lost our minds?  I’m part of this problem because I thought I didn’t have the energy to transform my yard into Sesame Street or to create a pretty princess wonderland out of tissue paper pom-pom garlands and fairy dust. I felt the Pinterest pressure, but felt no compulsion to post pictures so as not to fuel birthday envy for other folks.

Despite the birthday party envy, last weekend, my husband and I held a small family gathering at our house on a Sunday afternoon to celebrate my little daughter’s second birthday.  We gated the yard, put out sprinklers for the kids, threw in some sidewalk chalk and bikes and let them have at it. When I suggested we get an ice cream cake for this simple celebration, my husband wondered aloud whether the cake would have a theme.  I returned his comment with a blank stare. “She’s two,” I said, “And she has never had ice cream cake. What two-year old (who already LOVES ice cream AND cake) wouldn’t love an ice cream cake?!”

Ice cream cake: perfect for a summer birthday!

Ice cream cake: perfect for a summer birthday!

Pinterest’s reach is so deep that my husband actually cares about this (for the record: the birthday cake has ALWAYS been his domain but he relegated it to me this year for some reason).  She loved the ice cream cake.  We unplugged from social media all day and enjoyed the company and the weather in real-time.

Don’t get me wrong: I love Facebook and Pinterest and other forms of social media. Staying connected to local folks and friends from afar gets harder and harder and social media keeps me in touch with more people than I could have ever done without it. But beyond keeping us connected, these social media platforms also increase the flow of ideas and information at a terribly rapid pace.  And they put a shiny glow on social life.

So when I say, I have vacation envy, it’s because I’m seeing everyone’s 4th of July week photos, photo after photo of people at parades, people decked out in red, white and blue, people on the cape, people at barbecues and beach houses, people at the beach.  And I feel like I want a vacation.  And the birthday party envy comes from picture after picture of a perfectly themed extravaganza for a two-year old.  And there are so few new ideas that the same tired ideas are recycled.

Our toes in the sand, too.

Our toes in the sand, too.

Besides documentation and social media changing the way we relate and communicate, many children are already jaded (and weary) of the constant documentation of their lives. When the documentation leads to envy, though, I have to find a way to draw a line for myself.  Other bloggers have written about the fatigue and disillusionment of children’s lives being so well-documented.  I see it in my daily life–there are almost no pure moments unless they exist in photos…that are then posted for public consumption to Facebook.  We finally made it to the beach and I felt compelled to share one picture so I could show that I, too, was having fun this summer.

We’re posting pictures to keep your friends in the know about our summer exploits.  We’re pinning those pictures to share good ideas.  But should we? Maybe, I should just relax and enjoy those moments in real life. Without any evidence.

Posted in blogging, community, family, kids, lessons learned, media, parenthood, personal, social media, summer, vacation | 3 Comments

Dispatch from the mat: lessons on teaching gleaned from yoga boot camp

Yoga boot camp is a contradiction in terms.  Yoga, by nature, is meant to be peaceful and meditative.  The only “boot camp”-ish thing about this yoga boot camp was the 6:15 start time (and thus the 5:30 wake up call).  The first day or so was tough but now that the first week is over, I am glad I committed to getting myself, my brain, and my body to class.

As a student, yoga is a “practice” in that you’re working with the limitations of your own body and mind to “perform” different stretches or “poses” during the course of a class. When I first started practicing yoga after I graduated college, I lived in New York City and felt intimidated in a room full of bendy dancers and models.  I came to learn, though, that practicing means striving but never quite reaching a pose.  It is about finding stillness, not perfection.  I found ways to adjust myself, use props, and eventually (with patience and dedication) develop a really great practice for myself.  Sustaining a regular practice over time has always been a challenge.

Part of the boot camp experience was returning to that student role and submitting myself to five new teachers, none of whom I knew, to guide me into a new routine.  Being a student is fun because it gives me a chance to reflect on my own teaching style and on the things I need (and subsequently that my students might need) to be successful in this current setting.  Yoga isn’t a new idea or a new activity for me but practicing this regularly is certainly not the norm.

In a few weeks, I’ll face two classes of students who will also be making adjustments as they learn from me in my role as a professor.  I’m translating the skills I’ve gleaned from my yoga practice as a student to strengthen my teaching practice.  A few points I must continue to remember:

1.  Yoga poses are like new ideas for the body.  And like many new ideas, the poses may feel uncomfortable, stressful or even awkward in the beginning.  It will take time to convince the mind that the body is capable of doing something new.  In yoga class, every time you find peace and comfort in a pose, instructors typically encourage students to push past complacency, to make their minds and bodies even more active as they “practice” taking the pose further, past the edge where you really want to collapse or even retreat.  As a teacher, I understand the ideas I teach, but sometimes, I forget that my students need time to adjust to the content.

2.  Learning a new idea looks different from person to person–not everyone is a sweater.  After an hour-long practice conducted in a heated room on a humid summer morning, I feel like a limp noodle.  I’ve sweated it out, I’m drenched, and I need a shower (is that too much information?).  On the first day, a friend practicing next to me hardly broken a sweat, though she assured me that she felt the intensity of the class.  I looked around and many folks in the class were dripping, while others were simply dewy.  Not everyone shows their cards as they work through new ideas and the same thing applies to my classes.  Students take time to absorb information and not everyone shows their outrage, indignation, confusion or support in the same way.

3. Students will be (and should be) suspect of their teachers at the start of any new teaching/learning experience.  This past week, I’ve practiced with five new yoga teachers, and while all five were incredible women, each had a style all her own.  Though I heard the same instruction five different ways, it resonated differently depending on the source.  Since all five sources were new to me, I kept reminding myself that it will take time to adjust to a new teacher, and I should give my new students the same latitude this fall.  Trust takes time to establish in the classroom.

4.  Teachers will make mistakes–we’re not the only experts in the room.  In class on Tuesday, one instructor led us through a really challenging (read: sweat-inducing) sequence of poses for one side of the body, and a student’s alert that she was about to repeat the same sequence brought the whole class back on course.  Trust your students as experts, too.  Listen to them and validate them.  In the long run, you will be a better teacher.

5.  Be kind and patient to yourself and to your students.  Adjusting to new ideas takes time.  Yoga is about the long view, about committing to awkwardness and discomfort in exchange for incremental growth over time.  Some poses get easier but progress doesn’t happen overnight.  It could take days, weeks or even years before you take flight and you’re balancing on your arms or you’re upside down in a head stand or you’ve mastered some other crazy pose (tripod head stand? It feels like I’ll NEVER be able to do it).  I could be staring at blank faces in class for weeks until I feel like I see light bulbs.  And those light bulbs will go off, but it could take semesters, years or even decades before it happens.  I have to keep trusting in the seeds I’ve planted, and hope for those errant emails from students who really got it.

5 days of yoga to get me ready for a new semester in 53 short days.  The countdown is on.

Posted in academia, blogging, health, higher education, lessons learned, students, teaching, work, yoga | 7 Comments

The Real Housewives is sociological (I swear it is)

While in graduate school, I missed the boat on so many cultural touchstones.  There are new television shows, musicians, reality stars or movies with which I am only vaguely familiar.  For example, I know Mad Men is critically acclaimed but I know virtually nothing about the show.  I saw Jon Hamm for the first time in the movie Bridesmaids (and I saw that on DVD well after it was out of the theaters) and my husband had to tell me he was the lead player in Mad Men.  I am not even lying when I tell you that Gagnum Style (and the various parodies of the Psy music video) had been circulating for many months before the song reached my consciousness.

It’s hard to avoid some of the junk like Jersey Shore or the Kardashians.  I object to the former on the grounds that it’s an entirely inaccurate portrayal of my home state, while the latter is just a confusing mess of über pretty folks (I may never be able to distinguish one Kardashian from another).  I’m not sure that it’s worth getting up to speed on all of them, but some “cultural” touchstones (and I’m using this term loosely) have hung around all through graduate school.

Since our cable company changed our station numbering many months ago (and I thank them for it), I have also stopped watching most television because the only channel I know is Bravo.  And thus it was inevitable that I would somehow fall into the rabbit hole that is The Real Housewives of Orange County.

OC Housewives (bravotv.com)

OC Housewives (bravotv.com)

I know about the show and its various spinoffs (New York, Atlanta, Miami, New Jersey–NJ is especially objectionable) because Bravo promotes the pants off of the franchise.  I have always thought that the show was pretty shallow and contrived.  And I am fully aware that skilled editing can make a three-second spat into a three episode arc, so I am under no allusions that I’m watching anything other than a fantasy.  I would watch it for a little while if I caught it on my lunch hour, but I never actually watched the show when it aired.  I felt a little self-righteous about that–if I didn’t watch it when it aired, then I wasn’t an actual fan, right?

I am reticent to admit that this current season of The Real Housewives of OC, I have watched nearly every episode.  Intentionally.  I realized the other night that I was sneaking around to catch up.  I would wait until my husband went to bed to cue up the latest episode On Demand or slip in half an episode folding laundry while the kids napped.  When the retrospective aired a week ago, I was kind of excited to watch it.  It sucked me into its vortex.

Maybe it’s because I’m playing part-time housewife as I transition from grad school life to full-time professor this summer.  Maybe it’s because I love seeing their fancy lifestyle.  Really, though, I think the show is so sociological.  It’s a “real-life” example of the complexity of social class, and I can’t stop watching because I am intrigued by the relationship between social class and money for these women.  These women have money which affords them experiences and opportunities that regular folks simply do not have.  But their money does not translate into an understanding of the unwritten social norms around high society.

I haven’t always watched the show but my interest in this season piqued considerably because of one housewife in particular. Heather Dubrow.

Heather Dubrow (bravotv.com)

Heather Dubrow (bravotv.com)

Dubrow is an east-coast transplant in Orange County.  She lives in a palatial estate (there’s an elevator and don’t get me started on the view from the yard) and everything about her screams high society.  She embodies a “classical” definition of gentility, and in her interviews with producers, explains her frustrations with the other women who do not seem to inhabit the same class stratosphere.  Heather serves as a foil to her fellow housewives, many of whom have money but not the class to back it up.  Married to a prominent plastic surgeon, she is the ultimate cliché but she also walks the OC walk.  The other ladies recognize that she is “fancy pants”–a nickname befitting of a princess hailing from Chappaqua, New York.  These women accumulate wealth and status symbols, but Heather’s presence provides a clear distinction between the women on the show.

She disapproves of the ladies behaving badly, keeping out of the trash-talking, insult-heaving fray as best as possible.  In her interviews, she bemoans the ladies’ lack of finesse and tact in certain uncomfortable situations.  For instance, on a trip to Mexico in a recent episode to celebrate the pending nuptials of one housewife, she appears embarrassed that her fellow housewives seem ungrateful and nonplussed by the gourmet dinner she arranged for them.  While she dines happily on four-star fare, the other ladies gripe and complain that their surroundings are downright boring and the food was too fancy.  She grits her teeth through the meal, astounded that the other women are not quietly grateful and rolls her eyes every time there is a mention of hitting up a dive bar for a night-cap after their dinner.

Having watched every episode, I cannot believe that I’ve stuck it out for nearly the entire season.  I don’t think I will ever convince my husband that the show is anything but garbage.  He may be right.  Still, it’s the guilty pleasure I can’t deny right now.  I need something silly (and guilty) to balance the serious nature of the things I study.  Season’s end cannot come quickly enough.

Posted in culture, guilty pleasures, media, personal, procrastinating, television, women | 10 Comments