Back again… June 10, 2012

I missed a few days in my effort to be a daily blogger. Today’s blog reverbbroads prompt ventures too far into the personal for my comfort, so given that I missed a few days, I am opting instead to write from yesterday’s prompt instead. Hey, it’s my party and I’ll blog if I want to.

So, yesterday’s prompt: What skill have you learned in the past year that you are proud of?

Usually, when I think of a skill, I want to imagine something tangible — I learned to fly a plane, unclog a pipe, or rewire the electricity in my house. While I already knew how to unclog a pipe, I have not yet mastered or even attempted the other two. But the skill I’ve learned this year is, I think, far more valuable. I have learned, at least in part, to relax.

You see, one year and one month ago, I walked in the graduation ceremony for my doctorate. That was the culmination of a lifetime of education. While I had taken breaks occasionally — after my first masters and again after the second — there was always a recognition that I would return to school. Once I finished, it occurred to me that I wasn’t sure what needed to be done next. Of course, I had work; of course, I had my family. But what would be my next major “accomplishment”?

What I realized was that I didn’t need to know right away. It was okay to just let things go. It was okay to sleep late, to spend a Saturday doing nothing but watching a movie, or to NOT think about work. It was okay to read a book for fun. I’ll admit that I struggled at first. I am not naturally good at relaxing.

But what was perhaps most important was that I learned that I could relax and take a day or two off and not lose momentum. I have accomplished a lot this year — I presented my first (and soon to be second) keynote speech; I taught a class I had never taught before; I wrote my first book chapter (to be published this fall!); and I assisted my staff in rethinking our department and refocusing our work. But I also adopted a new kitten, who loves nothing more than to lay on me; I read books that had nothing to do with higher education and had meaningful enough conversations that I was able to recommend them; I went ice skating with my niece and carved out time to help her do her sparkly makeup for her talent show. A year ago, I would have had excuses for why all of this would not have fit into my schedule, not because it didn’t, but because it was too difficult to just relax.

I recognize that, like with any new skill, I am far from perfect only a year into my practice. Like the electrical rewiring or the plane flying, I cannot expect that this new personal skill would be perfect to someone who is still very much a novice. But I do recognize the value in this relaxation, and the need for me to work at becoming better and better at it. For those to whom relaxation comes naturally, this idea of working at it probably seems counterintuitive. But I would probably say the same of those who have to really work at those things that come so naturally to me.

Be excellent to each other… June 5, 2012

Today’s #reverbbroads starter: Come up with a new Constitutional Amendment. from Art and Soul

The greatest disdain that I have for politics is not for those who disagree with me, but for those who treat our governance system as a game, or even as a toy.  In the most recent years, I have become increasingly enamoured with those who can politely speak their minds and express distaste for a particular policy without resorting to name calling or speaking badly of people’s character.  While I would certainly like to see a constitutional amendment that outlaws DOMA, solidifies the ERA, and (really and truly) outlaws discrimination, my hope for this country is actually much more simple.

I would like to require that elected officials, at least while serving in those roles, refrain from disparaging comments about others character, that they remain focused on the issues at hand, and that they, if unable to do so OR if they do nothing more than stagnate legislation, be removed from office for behaving otherwise.  The greatest danger to this country right now is not that it is headed in the wrong direction politically, but that it is headed in no direction other than one that demonstrates distain for political discourse.  While I would in no way look to limit the free speech of every day individuals, I would argue that, constitutionally, certain behavior can be seen as a job requirement.  We do, after all, pay these folks to speak for us, regardless of how ineffective, nasty, or disrespectful the speech.

I realize that I am babbling a bit — this constitutional amendment lacks the focus that I would like to see from myself (as well as from those who represent me).  But you get my drift.  In the wise words of Bill and Ted (and their Abraham Lincoln), we should, in fact, be excellent to each other…

Already slacking… June 4, 2012

So, I’ve already slacked on the effort to blog daily in response to the #reverbbroads starter questions.  So, today, I’ll attempt to negotiate my way through integrating the two posts, “Who are your role models?” and “What did people tease you about growing up?”

Honestly, this isn’t as big of a challenge as it may seem.  The only thing I really got teased about as a kid was that I was brainy.  I was the stereotypical brainy girl — glasses, braces, and a need to raise my hand in class when a question was asked and no one else was volunteering.  I wasn’t an outcast — I always had a pretty big group of friends at school — but I didn’t quite fit in either.  I never thought that I was smarter than my friends, but I knew from an early age that I was more cerebral.  Smart or intelligent might be viewed as inherent.  I just thought a lot.  I read a lot. I asked a lot of questions.  I was political and argumentative at an early age.  The only real problem with this (beyond the teasing of my sister and family and occasionally someone at school) was that I always assumed that no one would understand me. I was in my own head too much to share much of myself with others, and I therefore saw myself as being outside of the way that kids were supposed to act.  If I had been teased mercilessly, other than by my family, I probably wouldn’t have noticed — I was too busy thinking.

So, when I think about role models, I’ve always looked to strong women who weren’t afraid to think.  My great-grandmother, who came to this country alone and as a child, and always seemed to have the right answer for everything. My Aunt Irene, who despite being traditional in many ways, never cowered to anyone and always knew that her brain was her most valuable asset.  And others — Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who looked to her friends for help with her children so that she could rewrite the Bible in a way that didn’t degrade women, Alice Paul, who was willing to push outside of even the more progressive women of her time, Margaret Atwood and S.E. Hinton, authors who certainly wrote as strong women but who also understood the world around them.  I could say that I admire so many others — certainly those who advocate peace and truth, justice and integrity. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi certainly come to mind.  But more often than not, I look to those who women who have the strong moral compass, are unafraid to use their minds, and who are willing to push the boundaries.

June 2 – Reverb Broads Day 2 June 2, 2012

Today’s #reverbbroads blog starter comes from Kassie at bravelyobey.blogspot.com. Her question: What gives you nightmares?

The truth is that if I look at this literally, the answer is “nothing.” I say this because I am that person who never remembers dreams or nightmares. I suspect that this comes from not getting enough sleep and therefore never being able to really get deep enough to have that kind of great transformative sleep that I used to have when I was a kid. But, if I look at this more in the spirit in which I think it was really intended, the answer is a lot broader, with a lot more to say. In fact, it’s almost the exact opposite answer. So, when I ask the question as “what fears keep you up at night” the answer is “just about everything.”

My only real fears are needles and fires. I desperately fear needles because of a traumatic experience when I was about 9, the result of which was a broken glass syringe in my arm and a wrist to bicep black and blue. Fires are a little more complex, but still a childhood obsession. I suspect it comes from being told that the best way to prevent being killed in a fire in your sleep was to keep your bedroom door closed and, of course, mine did not actually close correctly.

My more mortal, day to day fears are much more expansive. I am constantly afraid of household problems that will bankrupt me (4 years in a 50+ year old house has taught me more than I wanted to know about plumbing, gutters, sewer lines, leaky window wells, and roofing). I fear missing deadlines, failing my staff, doing something that will cause harm to my students, and generally failing at what I am supposed to do. I fear the death of a family member or close friend, and I (perhaps even more so, except in the case of my immediate family) fear the illness, injury, or death of my 15 year old cat. I realize that that may make me sound like a crazy cat lady, but he has been my constant and is perhaps the most empathic creature I have ever had the pleasure to know. Someday, I will again have to go through a difficulty without him by my side and the knowledge of that eventuality saddens and frightens me.

When I think, though, about the one thing that truly keeps me up at night, it has not changed in more than 20 years. My great fear is in being a disappointment to my parents. Intellectually, I know that their love for me is constant and that I was raised with the kind of love that so many dream of. I have never known a lack of love. I have never felt abandonment or that sense I see in some of my students — that there is no one in the world who would care what happens to them. And, financially, emotionally, and psychologically, I have never been without a safety net. Perhaps this makes me feel more responsible to them. This has, over the years, become my driving force. To become someone whose actions are beyond reproach, of whom they can be proud.

Reverb Broads, Day 1 June 1, 2012

In the interests of having something to blog about without necessarily having to think too much about it, I’m taking on the challenge of Reverb Broads (available at http://reverbbroads.blogspot.com/) to write this summer.  Today’s blogpost, “With what fictional character (book, movie, TV, etc.) do you most identify? Why?”

To be truthful, as I looked through the first few blog post suggestions, this was the one that frightened me most.  Not sharing my nightmares, my role models, or my aspirations, but the fictional character with which I identify.  I suppose it has something to do with feeling like I’m not all that creative and that, here on day 1, I might disappoint.  I’m also struggling with this because I’m fairly certain that in reality I connect with too many fictional characters in pieces, but none wholeheartedly.  I could give you my favorite fictional characters — Atticus Finch, Ponyboy Curtis, Edna Pontellier, Offred of Handmaid’s Tale or Old Major of Animal Farm, but none of these are really “me.”  I’d like to go “classic,” but I can’t. So, I made a choice, and I’m sticking with it.

Those who know me know that to love me is to love to hear Aaron Sorkin quotes.  Primarily but not exclusively from the West Wing.  And so, my fictional character is CJ Cregg, press secretary to President Bartlet.  She is smart, but often afraid that she doesn’t quite measure up to her peers.  99% of the time, she is right on the ball but the other 1% she makes a complete mess of things.  She is one of the boys, certainly a feminist, and self assured, but also wants to be told that she’s good enough, that she’s pretty, that she’s more than a brain in a suit.  She is certainly more comfortable being in front of the camera than I am, but she displays an awkwardness too, one that makes me suggest that she and I would understand each other.  Sometimes I want to shake her and remind her that she’s in her job because she’s supposed to be — that she’s earned it.  I feel the same way about myself sometimes.  I see those who have been in the field or even at the institution longer and I suspect that they don’t doubt me nearly as much as I doubt myself.

But here’s the thing: CJ gets it.  She’s in the inner circle.  She’s part of the decision making.  When the “boys” ignore her, they usually do so at their own peril.  She is not holier than thou, she is not superior, but she is more often than not right — not because she knows more but because she thinks through every possibility and can serve as the voice of reason.  She questions, she wonders, she ponders, but she makes good decisions that serve their shared mission well.  On my better days, I see that in myself as well.

My first keynote May 16, 2012

I was in Texas this week (Frisco, just outside of Dallas, to be exact) giving my first-ever keynote address. To be honest, I was scared to death. Here was a group of almost 250 conference attendees who have been told that I had something of value to share with them. As I prepared, I thought of the times when I’ve giggled (on the inside) when students tell me how nervous they are to speak in front of their classes. I teach every week; I regularly present to our students, their parents, and occasionally to the community at large. I am never shy about expressing my opinion or saying what I think needs to be said, be the group large or small. But here I was, scared to death about presenting in front of a group, most of whom I will never see again. I think much of this fear came from the idea of it being a “keynote.” Earlier this year, I was at a conference where one of the speakers remarked that he was “just” a plenary speaker, not the keynote because the keynote was too important of a speech for him to give. Somehow, that stuck with me. But to be honest, once I got into it, I kind of loved it. If you ask Myers-Briggs, Im an introvert. But in this situation, I loved the idea of being able to share ideas about transfer students for which I don’t often have as much of an audience. More than that, I really loved being able to have the conversations afterward that allowed me to meet new people and engage further on what I see as one of the most crucial issues of our time.

And so, I suppose that the lesson learned for me is to practice what I preach. I often tell students that they need to take risks; they need to try new things that make them nervous or even terrified. They need to gain new marketable and transferable skills. They need to spread their wings. And so, Im incredibly thankful to the advising network at University of North Texas for their invitation and for the opportunity to try something different, to meet new people, and to gain skills and confidence that, without this experience, I might never have. And, hopefully, to continue the conversation about transfer on beyond the borders of this conference.

On Trayvon Martin: recognizing privilege and comparisons March 24, 2012

Usually, I would not use this blog to comment on politics or current events. I quite intentionally, perhaps out of the protection for my current and future career, keep this writing focused on higher education and my experience therein. However, in seeing reactions to this unbelievable tragedy from friends and acquaintances on my personal Facebook account, I felt the need to respond publicly in a way that was longer than 140 characters and more permanent than a facebook response.

The first thing I noticed in many of these responses is the lack of understanding of so many of my (usually) white FB people of the privilege that they hold. Most of the responses that I saw that were critical (including comments as to why this death was being seen as so much more of a tragedy than others and why so many were making “such a big deal” about one death) were from those who were white or male, and usually from those who were both. They have never truly felt judged by their appearance and they have never feared that their future would be determined by perceptions about their physical appearance held by others who controlled their fate. They have not wondered whether they would be safe from violence, purely based upon who they were. Their actions and their decisions largely (though admittedly, not exclusively) determine their fate.

As a young woman, I thought I understood this prejudice, as I had felt the sense of being the “other” and the “silenced.” But I learned years ago that my ability to understand depended on my recognition of my privilege, not my identification as other. Perhaps the most important time on this front was my experience as one of very few (two, usually) white people and the only white woman in classes for my masters program. I realized pretty quickly that I had a distinct understanding of being the only one like me in the room but that, more importantly for understanding privilege, I could choose to leave that room and could choose, on most days, to be around others like myself. That most white people will never have an experience in which they are truly the other, among people who they do not know, may be the most important thing keeping us from a greater understanding of continuing racism. I have chosen to understand my privilege while I simultaneously embrace my role as an educator. And so, I choose this space to present some comments on the “hoodie” question and the commentary by some on why this murder is so meaningful.

First and foremost, every death should be mourned. If we truly and meaningfully collectively mourned every tragic and unnecessary death, there might be fewer of them. If we believed and acted as if each tragic death was a loss to our human community, we might fight together to reduce and eliminate their causes. If we lived more as a community that cared for each other and less as protectionist reactionaries, we would respond to people like George Zimmerman and their racist and, perhaps, predictable behavior before it resulted in a youngster’s death. I saw comments from acquaintances speaking to “why so much for this death and so little for the police and firefighters who die in the line of duty” to which I would say that first and foremost, we should not have a limited amount of compassion for those who die but that, just as importantly, this young boy did not choose to put himself in the line of fire. He simply walked down the street.

Second, women in particular, but also their partners, sons, and fathers, ought to be outraged by the language that suggests that a choice of clothing justifies or even explains violence. Do the same people who agree with Geraldo that we essentially know what people who wear hoodies do also argue that those women who were raped were “asking for it” if their skirt did not reach their knees? I carefully choose clothing to meet the expectations of a given situation, but more often than not, these choices are based upon knowing that other choices, especially shorter skirts and lower cut blouses will result in comments and assumptions that do not embrace me for all of who I am but instead put me into a sexualized category. Young professional women in particular are hyperaware (because they need to be, not because they want to be) that they must de-sexualize themselves — pant suits with minimal jewelry and low heels is preferable to make you look professional and serious. I spoke just this week about my personal conflict with negotiating between my feminism and my love of fashion. Yes, I can have both. Yes, I can still be incredibly professional and not be “asking for” anything when I wear 4 inch heels and when I wear a dress or skirt that allows me to think of myself as cute. But the greatest danger for me in my usual settings is that someone question my authority — I will not need to be fearful for my life while in my office. Why? Mostly because I am professional, I am middle class, I live in a suburban neighborhood — and because all of those are made more likely because of the doors opened to me because I am white.

And so, as I see and (to the extent that I can) understand the outrage of people and especially parents of color, I would call on white folks to stand up. To say that we can be more and better than what this most tragic event provides for the world. To say that we recognize our contribution to this tragedy because we do NOT mourn the tragedies of others in the way that we mourn the tragedies of ourselves. And finally to say that this tragedy is not only a tragedy of the black community but of the human community and we cannot act as if this is something that happened to someone else.