As a junior female faculty in starting my second year in a new small town, I struggle to find my voice. Maybe better worded as the appropriate voice. I didn't come to my position as a newly minted graduate student from a PhD program. I worked for many years as an adjunct, in applied fields, and went back to get another higher ed degree. I have experience, but also learned (and knew) there were things I was going to have to learn. And one of them is finding an appropriate voice.
A voice that demonstrates I hear you and take you seriously, but that I also have confidence and knowledge. A voice that supports rights for many oppressed groups, but at the same time protects the safety of my family (see my Feminist Reflections post on Quiet Activism for more on this).
A voice that encompasses my whole self, but does not leave me vulnerable and stigmatized.
A voice that displays my professionalism, competence, and confidence.
A voice that mentors students, that welcomes students, and encourages them to reach for the better.
A voice that is kind to those around me and kind to myself. A voice that quiets the inner-critic.
Yes, some of this might be generalizable to all in a professional job or academia. But I find more of it emphasized living in a small town, where people know someone who knows someone.
And sometimes these observations are incredibly helpful to emphasize what we know we need to do. If you have not read Irving Yalom's work, especially on the idea of interpersonal therapy and the "here and now", I urge you to do so. What people observe of us in situations often displays what we don't want to admit in how we relate inter-personally. Our own blind spots if you will...
Yet, there are times I am going to make mistakes. And in a small town, I start to feel a bit claustrophobic. A small town many, many miles away from family and friends.
And in small town, being an outsider, finding your authentic voice and sometimes, in Goffman's terms, needing the backstage to prepare or rehearse for the front stage, can be difficult.
I've always loved Goffman's work, but did not consider myself a symbolic interactionist for a few reasons. However, in examining my own life in a small town , I find the importance of symbolic interactionism to conceptualize my experiences and finding an appropriate voice, where rehearsal in that backstage may be important, as a way to frame this in sociological terms.
Where do we get to have our backstage in our real life? In the totality of real life? Where can I practice, as a feminist, social justice supporter, in a small town, dealing with my own stressful issues, find my backstage to perfect my front stage?
We all have inherent worth and dignity as humans. We all deserve our "backstage", especially during vulnerable times, even in a small town. We can be professional and also have our moments. With that said, I am still learning where my backstage is to help find my appropriate voice.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Dismantling the binary gender norms with a 5 year old?
I've thought of many, many things I could blog about... then I write a bit and I get interrupted or I can't figure out what I want to say. And now that this blog might be a bit more visible because of my "public" persona on a new feminist sociology blog, I am a bit nervous about sounding not well informed and all else related to this idea.
But in a moment of reality checking, when I thought about comments I received on my first post in this public feminist sociology blog, where I wrote about the personal, and so many said it rang true to them, I decided I am just going to write. This is not my published work. This is not my research here. It's my ideas. It's my thoughts. It's my sociological imagination and feminist perspective on overdrive as a I start my second year in a TT job, in a "foreign" land, and learn many lessons about life. Being a mom, a spouse, and a liberal social justice seeker who thinks way too much often leaves my brain fried. To think about this, a friend with ADHD said it felt like when you 100 browser tabs open on the internet. I do not have this exact feeling, but I have a lot of thoughts and feel stuck trying to get them out in a comprehensive way as I am one of those people who can both be too much in the moment, but also reflects for a long time afterwards- great qualitative research skills, but yet a detriment in my ability to communicate succinctly and clearly.
So, there are many things on my mind that I so much want to talk about, but don't have the outlet or time to fully explore... Today, I focus in gender and raising kids in environment where binary gender norms are reinforced and my struggles with this as a gender scholar and training and work in the LGBT (or GSM) field.
1) As a white person with children who are white, I find it interesting we lived in MN before moving to the South. MN, the land of Norwegians, lack of diversity, and liberalism. Yet, we lived in the inner city of Minneapolis and none of our neighbors since our kids were born were white. We've talked to kids about race, but they never really asked about it as their day cares and school classes were predominately non-white. We talked about how some might treat people differently because of this and why this is wrong, but my kids never really saw race or ethnicity as a difference (let me get to my point as I try hard to instill in them ideas about privilege, oppression, and history). But GENDER is a different story. My daughter who is older had some "ideas" she learned in one pre-school in MN, but we quickly talked about these. She "learned" boys don't have long hair (in which I showed her a picture and the actual evidence of the cut off pony tail of her cis-gender father to dispute this point) or wear nail polish. Now, I know we are in a small town in the Deep South and yours truly doesn't always follow the gender norms (I can look great and put on make up and such, which I like to do, but I also don't automatically think to put on a skirt to go to a small event). And I know that all the parents of the kids my children will associate will not think like my family, but I am going to seriously lose my sh** soon. Let me give you a few examples.
a) My son, while at a public park and rec camp this summer (who entered Kindergarten this Fall), told me the other kids made fun of him and said he was a girl for having a purple ice pack in his lunch. SERIOUSLY?? I told him there was no such thing as boys and girls colors and have reinforced this so many times.
b) Why are the names of the students in the classes at my elementary school divided by supposed gender? The girls and the boys? What distinction does this make and why does it matter? Reinforcing the binary.
c) I paint my nails and my daughters. Since my son was younger, he wanted his painted. He once told me someone said to him at Pre-K (a publicly funded program that's like pre-school here the year before Kindergarten) that boys didn't paint their nails. Again, I told him that this was not true and tried to give him examples of things that he thought girls did do, but boys didn't. This weekend I was painting my daughter's nails and he wanted his toenails painted. He said he wanted "golden", but since we had purple out he would do that so it would be easier on mom (love that kid). The next day he freaked out and wanted the nail polish remover as he thought he would go to school and get made fun of since boys don't pain their nails. Again, a conversation with a five year ensued about these false distinctions between boys and girls and how our family believed things others here may not.
d) Oh, and I forgot another incident from summer day camp with my son. First, some context, in that they switched the main counselors for the youngest kids frequently, which resulted in a few "behavioral issues" with my son (and I am not being the "my kid is perfect" parent and yes, he did things that were wrong, but what do you expect when you change the teacher with young kids so often... they test you, and that the staff were not trained in writing reports well). So after two weeks of various phone calls, including that my daughter's shoes had broke, during the day and notes home, I went to pick up the kids on a Friday. One of my favorite staff was working, who I knew as she had been the lead staff at my daughter's after school program. She tells me they tried to call me (ha, they called my office phone and I was working from home). I was thinking what now and when I heard why I gagged a little bit.
The story I was told was that my son and another "boy" were fighting and then they made up and kissed. Okay? So, I asked why they would need to call me about this and why I should be concerned. And I love this staff, but she was having a hard time saying why. I asked is that because other parents would be concerned that, gasp, the boys were "homosexual"? Because I don't care if son is or is not. She said no, it's... and again, she couldn't put in words, so I said parents would think it's sexual? She said, yes. While yes, kids are not "sexless beings" they were five year old kids, who I don't think know what this means...
You could tell me it was about boundary issues and I would say, sure, that makes sense. My social work training and work in both the LGBTQ and mental health fields has made me super sensitive to physical boundaries. You ask if you can hug or touch someone. I totally get that. But really, do you have to call me at home to shame my son for doing something I actually consider loving to another human? And I said as much that we could also see the positive in this situation in that they were fighting and made up.
So, what do I want to conclude with. I feel stuck and incompetent and guilty for feeling this. I am a gender scholar. I worked and trained in the LGBTQ field, but I don't know how to talk to a five year old about dismantling the gender binary. I don't want him to be hurt or bullied at school, but I will not cannot let my kids accept binary, false gender norms.
Help my fellow readers. I don't know if this is part of the country I am living in and more pronounced gender norms in a small, conservative, Southern town or if you all face this...
Until next time, when I might talk about how gender norms and religion are codified into a particular organization promoting girls self-confidence and such, I hope you can give me some pointers.
But in a moment of reality checking, when I thought about comments I received on my first post in this public feminist sociology blog, where I wrote about the personal, and so many said it rang true to them, I decided I am just going to write. This is not my published work. This is not my research here. It's my ideas. It's my thoughts. It's my sociological imagination and feminist perspective on overdrive as a I start my second year in a TT job, in a "foreign" land, and learn many lessons about life. Being a mom, a spouse, and a liberal social justice seeker who thinks way too much often leaves my brain fried. To think about this, a friend with ADHD said it felt like when you 100 browser tabs open on the internet. I do not have this exact feeling, but I have a lot of thoughts and feel stuck trying to get them out in a comprehensive way as I am one of those people who can both be too much in the moment, but also reflects for a long time afterwards- great qualitative research skills, but yet a detriment in my ability to communicate succinctly and clearly.
So, there are many things on my mind that I so much want to talk about, but don't have the outlet or time to fully explore... Today, I focus in gender and raising kids in environment where binary gender norms are reinforced and my struggles with this as a gender scholar and training and work in the LGBT (or GSM) field.
1) As a white person with children who are white, I find it interesting we lived in MN before moving to the South. MN, the land of Norwegians, lack of diversity, and liberalism. Yet, we lived in the inner city of Minneapolis and none of our neighbors since our kids were born were white. We've talked to kids about race, but they never really asked about it as their day cares and school classes were predominately non-white. We talked about how some might treat people differently because of this and why this is wrong, but my kids never really saw race or ethnicity as a difference (let me get to my point as I try hard to instill in them ideas about privilege, oppression, and history). But GENDER is a different story. My daughter who is older had some "ideas" she learned in one pre-school in MN, but we quickly talked about these. She "learned" boys don't have long hair (in which I showed her a picture and the actual evidence of the cut off pony tail of her cis-gender father to dispute this point) or wear nail polish. Now, I know we are in a small town in the Deep South and yours truly doesn't always follow the gender norms (I can look great and put on make up and such, which I like to do, but I also don't automatically think to put on a skirt to go to a small event). And I know that all the parents of the kids my children will associate will not think like my family, but I am going to seriously lose my sh** soon. Let me give you a few examples.
a) My son, while at a public park and rec camp this summer (who entered Kindergarten this Fall), told me the other kids made fun of him and said he was a girl for having a purple ice pack in his lunch. SERIOUSLY?? I told him there was no such thing as boys and girls colors and have reinforced this so many times.
b) Why are the names of the students in the classes at my elementary school divided by supposed gender? The girls and the boys? What distinction does this make and why does it matter? Reinforcing the binary.
c) I paint my nails and my daughters. Since my son was younger, he wanted his painted. He once told me someone said to him at Pre-K (a publicly funded program that's like pre-school here the year before Kindergarten) that boys didn't paint their nails. Again, I told him that this was not true and tried to give him examples of things that he thought girls did do, but boys didn't. This weekend I was painting my daughter's nails and he wanted his toenails painted. He said he wanted "golden", but since we had purple out he would do that so it would be easier on mom (love that kid). The next day he freaked out and wanted the nail polish remover as he thought he would go to school and get made fun of since boys don't pain their nails. Again, a conversation with a five year ensued about these false distinctions between boys and girls and how our family believed things others here may not.
d) Oh, and I forgot another incident from summer day camp with my son. First, some context, in that they switched the main counselors for the youngest kids frequently, which resulted in a few "behavioral issues" with my son (and I am not being the "my kid is perfect" parent and yes, he did things that were wrong, but what do you expect when you change the teacher with young kids so often... they test you, and that the staff were not trained in writing reports well). So after two weeks of various phone calls, including that my daughter's shoes had broke, during the day and notes home, I went to pick up the kids on a Friday. One of my favorite staff was working, who I knew as she had been the lead staff at my daughter's after school program. She tells me they tried to call me (ha, they called my office phone and I was working from home). I was thinking what now and when I heard why I gagged a little bit.
The story I was told was that my son and another "boy" were fighting and then they made up and kissed. Okay? So, I asked why they would need to call me about this and why I should be concerned. And I love this staff, but she was having a hard time saying why. I asked is that because other parents would be concerned that, gasp, the boys were "homosexual"? Because I don't care if son is or is not. She said no, it's... and again, she couldn't put in words, so I said parents would think it's sexual? She said, yes. While yes, kids are not "sexless beings" they were five year old kids, who I don't think know what this means...
You could tell me it was about boundary issues and I would say, sure, that makes sense. My social work training and work in both the LGBTQ and mental health fields has made me super sensitive to physical boundaries. You ask if you can hug or touch someone. I totally get that. But really, do you have to call me at home to shame my son for doing something I actually consider loving to another human? And I said as much that we could also see the positive in this situation in that they were fighting and made up.
So, what do I want to conclude with. I feel stuck and incompetent and guilty for feeling this. I am a gender scholar. I worked and trained in the LGBTQ field, but I don't know how to talk to a five year old about dismantling the gender binary. I don't want him to be hurt or bullied at school, but I will not cannot let my kids accept binary, false gender norms.
Help my fellow readers. I don't know if this is part of the country I am living in and more pronounced gender norms in a small, conservative, Southern town or if you all face this...
Until next time, when I might talk about how gender norms and religion are codified into a particular organization promoting girls self-confidence and such, I hope you can give me some pointers.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
More on the Transition to the South
It's been almost a year in the South to the date. Some
people may wonder why I am so interested in things here and make comparisons to
life before. We all come from our different backgrounds and experiences. I grew
up in Iowa, in the same house for eighteen years of my life. I moved only a few
hours away for college in Nebraska, but still the Midwest. Then I moved to
Minneapolis, which was a bit different
in being a metro area, considered the "Upper Midwest", and had a few
unique Minnesota things. Yet, it was
still the Midwest and people talked similar, except for the "Minnesota accent"
(i.e. the Minnesota "O"),the landscape looked similar to where I was
from, I understood politics, and well, it was similar. And I was close enough to my prior
"homes" of Iowa and Nebraska to know some folks in Minneapolis from
these places and well, people knew were Iowa and Nebraska were.
For a Midwestern girl, the South was something you read
about in books- yes, probably about the Civil War and Civil Rights. It seemed
like an exotic place. Sure, I had visited Atlanta (which I thought was like
other big metro areas), Savannah (beautiful but only was downtown), and Texas (which I have thought it a lot like
the Midwest, or even Nebraska, just really hot) to name a few places I remember. I also spent time in Missouri,
which is directly South of Iowa, which I did not find that much different than
other places in the Midwest (and we could debate is Missouri is the South
depending on your criteria). Just as
much as friends during graduate school from the South were in awe of the first
snow in the North, I've experienced culture shock and still at times feel like
I am living in a foreign land (not exactly "awe" as it's not always a
positive feeling).
I didn't know the terms "buggy" (translation-
shopping cart in the south) nor "fixing" (literally you are going to
do something) in their Southern contexts before moving here. I didn't know that the term
"Yankee" when yelled at you to move back North could hurt and scare
you so much. I didn't know I would meet who I consider one of my best friends,
a soul-mate, in a small Southern town. I
didn't know I would feel so isolated at times and homesick for my hometown in
Iowa that I never wished to move back to.
I didn't know I would experience so much guilt in moving my family miles
away from our families and what we knew as "home". I thought grits
were a southern food and didn't know it was also an acronym standing for "Girls
Raised in the South." I didn't know the confederate flag would be everywhere
and that it would be hard for me to see how my students and folks from here
equate with Southern and State rights, not slavery. I didn't know that wearing
casual clothes to a brunch at a friend's house was not appropriate. I didn't
know my students would have no idea where Iowa is, though they could equate
Minnesota with Norwegian stereotypes and White folks. I didn't know that some
of my closest friends, being a liberal sociologist, would be in the military,
who have experienced more than most of us can imagine and have a complex
outlook on social life.
I'm here. I'm homesick and can't afford the time or money to visit
the Midwest, which is not just about me, but my kids do not get to see their
grandparents. I am here. I am picking up on Southern words and hear a Southern
accent coming out when I talk to folks with it from here. I am here and I am a
liberal. And that is not easy, which I will discuss in another post about quiet activism.
Yet, in a small Southern town, we were able to afford a nice
house. We're living "high on the hog" with Maytag appliances,
including a refrigerator with an ice maker and water. Our house is on .75 acres
of land in an older subdivision right outside of town. I can hear my neighbors,
but have seen them only a few times. The house is nice and updated for one
build in the 1960's, which is odd for us in having lived in houses always older
and under construction and remodeling. I can sit in my backyard and hear
various birds in the morning and all kinds of wild life at night. It's quiet
which is odd as we lived off a free way in the Twin Cities.
What is this post about? To an extent, without getting into
too much details, it is about a Midwestern born and bred girl's reaction to
moving to the South (Deep South) with her family. There's much emotion surrounding
this move... excitement about a new
place and learning new things, sadness about living far from family, and yes, fear
and guilt for being a "Yankee in the Deep South" who moved her who
family here. In part it's about the sociological ideas of cultural shock, in
that I still experience this daily, and need to check my own values and biases
in living in a more "rural" area in the Deep South (relating to
ethnoentricism). Yet, I'm being real. I'm being personal. Moving is not easy at any age and with an
adult with children and spouse, we are adjusting as individuals and a family. I'm being honest and what I can end with is that maybe
some a Southern granny will love my children so and treat them like so as we
live far from our relatives. I'm here. I'm learning. I'm loving. I'm making
mistakes. But this life.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
I'm Just a Midwesterner..
As a non-"Southerner" living in the South, I watch in curiosity at the culture I am surrounded by. From locals in my small town to academics, I feel at times like an outsider (or intruder), but yet, this view also lets me see things an insider could not see.
I grew up smack dab in the middle of the US. Iowa to be exact. The Midwest is where I born, raised, and educated. I moved to Nebraska for college-the Midwest- and then moved to Minneapolis - technically the Upper Midwest- for graduate school, spending 13 years there ultimately.
As far as I know, there is not a Center for Midwest Studies (though I think there might be one for Plains Studies or the such in Nebraska) or to preserve the heritage and culture of the Midwest. And I say this after attending my first academic regional Southern conference hearing about Southern centers like this. I feel as if coming from the Midwest, Iowa in particular, that people see me as existing without culture or as a "Northerner", part of our collective agenda is only to talk bad about the South. Neither of these is true. Sure, some folks in the North have a certain disdain for the South, particularly about politics and the legacy of slavery, but this is not generalizable to all of us Northerners.
I am a transplant. I am an outsider. And no one gives a damn about where I was born and raised. This does not feel good either. I've also faced the stereotypes of being from the Midwest from some folks from larger cities on the East and West Coasts. Every region has its stereotypes. But we all have culture... Sociology 101 teaches this.
And just as much as I question "Southern identity" when I hear the term here as I have a hard time seeing that applied to every person the same, I wonder what a or my "Midwest" identity is. I lived in the same town in Iowa, even the same house for all of my young adult life. My parents held the same jobs for years. They both hail from this town and still live there.
Yet, my mom comes from a strong Polish and Russian heritage, which is still influential for the women in my family. Her family ended up in Iowa on both sides because of the meat packing plants. My maternal grandmother, despite all her faults and not knowing her well before I died, was a strong woman. She was a USDA meat inspector in the 50's and 60's; a job not many women had. Russian was spoke by my grandma and her siblings. My mom tells me stories of Borsch, vodka tables, Russian newspapers, births at home for my grandma and her siblings, distrust of banks, picking up coal by the train tracks, and living on the hill with other Russian and Polish folks. Indeed my grandma's baptismal certificate has the Russian spelling of her name.
My paternal grandma hails from a farm in Iowa. One of three daughters, they helped on the farm. The family story is more complicated on this side in terms of heritage and something I can't express here nor do I even know the full story in terms of her family or my paternal grandfather's. She moved to the "big town" as she hated farm life, went to beauty school, worked all her life, and ending up owning her own beauty shop before she retired (what she called it, not my words). My paternal grandfather died the year my dad graduated from high school and my uncle went to Vietnam, so I do not know him. My grandma was strong. Despite some gendered comments to me, she would tell me many times I could do what I wanted even though I was a girl. She was wonderful and I miss her very much.
What does this have to do with my "culture" and hailing from the Midwest? Well, I always think about even though I am from Iowa, the Polish/Russian influence still runs strong, looking at women in my family (which I wrote my women's studies undergrad senior paper on). And yes, I do know a lot about meat... sorry vegetarians, but when your family worked in the industry and your parents were influenced by this, you know. Yet, my paternal grandma had her roots set more in the traditional Iowa farms you might think about. But I hardly visited a farm, but maybe a few times of a distant relative.
Here is what I know about living in Iowa. I had a great education. I learned the history of my town. I learned the history of my state. I was never taught to dislike another region of the country- indeed, I might have fantasized about them since I was smack dab in the middle of the country and wondered at that age about other places. I did learn about slavery, but I was never taught to hate the South. My home state has the first presidential primaries. We had both Democrat and Republican leaders. We had clean air (well minus the smell from the meat packing plants to breath). I had parks to play in. My childhood was good. Yes, it took awhile to travel to a big city, but what did I know when I was little?
For Minnesota, I could say different things. I love Minneapolis. I love the political and progressive ideas there. But at times the place could be narcissistic (for example, something would happen in the Middle East and the news would ask how does this affect Minnesota??). But let's get back to growing up in Iowa.
People say with the German and Scandinavian heritages often found in the Midwest, we have stoic personalities. Yes, this could be true and my dad could fit this, but I might reason this was because of his father's family history. Yes, some folks are stoic. But I grew up with great values from parents who were by no means perfect, but believed in social justice and me. And my parents were Christian, though a liberal sect. I was taught to respect others. I was taught to give back what I could because I had the means. I was taught about service to others and hard work.
When I think of "Southern Culture," I try to think of what this means as someone who is an outsider and learning from being here. I actively seek out information to understand this concept by talking to folks , attending academic sessions about this topic, and reading both academic and other information. I still do not understand, and I don't think I ever will as I'm not from here. Yet, as a sociologist, I must remind myself that there are different stories and different interpretations of the past and the present. As an outsider, if I ask a question, particularly in an academic setting, it is not a critique of the culture. It is not my Northern/Midwestern bias. It is a legitimate question based on using analytic frameworks that sometimes an outsider might see. Sure, my question may not ever come up in reviewing your work, but this is also part of helping academics. When our work is reviewed, reviewers will ask or challenge the analytic frameworks we use.
I'm learning. Yes, like anyone I do have my own biases, which I try to check. Yes, I don't like some of the politics down here (i.e. bring your guns anywhere bill). But when I express what I know it does come from the context of the places I have lived. It's not right or wrong, but a perspective. Let's learn from each other instead of becoming defensive. I also have culture.
I grew up smack dab in the middle of the US. Iowa to be exact. The Midwest is where I born, raised, and educated. I moved to Nebraska for college-the Midwest- and then moved to Minneapolis - technically the Upper Midwest- for graduate school, spending 13 years there ultimately.
As far as I know, there is not a Center for Midwest Studies (though I think there might be one for Plains Studies or the such in Nebraska) or to preserve the heritage and culture of the Midwest. And I say this after attending my first academic regional Southern conference hearing about Southern centers like this. I feel as if coming from the Midwest, Iowa in particular, that people see me as existing without culture or as a "Northerner", part of our collective agenda is only to talk bad about the South. Neither of these is true. Sure, some folks in the North have a certain disdain for the South, particularly about politics and the legacy of slavery, but this is not generalizable to all of us Northerners.
I am a transplant. I am an outsider. And no one gives a damn about where I was born and raised. This does not feel good either. I've also faced the stereotypes of being from the Midwest from some folks from larger cities on the East and West Coasts. Every region has its stereotypes. But we all have culture... Sociology 101 teaches this.
And just as much as I question "Southern identity" when I hear the term here as I have a hard time seeing that applied to every person the same, I wonder what a or my "Midwest" identity is. I lived in the same town in Iowa, even the same house for all of my young adult life. My parents held the same jobs for years. They both hail from this town and still live there.
Yet, my mom comes from a strong Polish and Russian heritage, which is still influential for the women in my family. Her family ended up in Iowa on both sides because of the meat packing plants. My maternal grandmother, despite all her faults and not knowing her well before I died, was a strong woman. She was a USDA meat inspector in the 50's and 60's; a job not many women had. Russian was spoke by my grandma and her siblings. My mom tells me stories of Borsch, vodka tables, Russian newspapers, births at home for my grandma and her siblings, distrust of banks, picking up coal by the train tracks, and living on the hill with other Russian and Polish folks. Indeed my grandma's baptismal certificate has the Russian spelling of her name.
My paternal grandma hails from a farm in Iowa. One of three daughters, they helped on the farm. The family story is more complicated on this side in terms of heritage and something I can't express here nor do I even know the full story in terms of her family or my paternal grandfather's. She moved to the "big town" as she hated farm life, went to beauty school, worked all her life, and ending up owning her own beauty shop before she retired (what she called it, not my words). My paternal grandfather died the year my dad graduated from high school and my uncle went to Vietnam, so I do not know him. My grandma was strong. Despite some gendered comments to me, she would tell me many times I could do what I wanted even though I was a girl. She was wonderful and I miss her very much.
What does this have to do with my "culture" and hailing from the Midwest? Well, I always think about even though I am from Iowa, the Polish/Russian influence still runs strong, looking at women in my family (which I wrote my women's studies undergrad senior paper on). And yes, I do know a lot about meat... sorry vegetarians, but when your family worked in the industry and your parents were influenced by this, you know. Yet, my paternal grandma had her roots set more in the traditional Iowa farms you might think about. But I hardly visited a farm, but maybe a few times of a distant relative.
Here is what I know about living in Iowa. I had a great education. I learned the history of my town. I learned the history of my state. I was never taught to dislike another region of the country- indeed, I might have fantasized about them since I was smack dab in the middle of the country and wondered at that age about other places. I did learn about slavery, but I was never taught to hate the South. My home state has the first presidential primaries. We had both Democrat and Republican leaders. We had clean air (well minus the smell from the meat packing plants to breath). I had parks to play in. My childhood was good. Yes, it took awhile to travel to a big city, but what did I know when I was little?
For Minnesota, I could say different things. I love Minneapolis. I love the political and progressive ideas there. But at times the place could be narcissistic (for example, something would happen in the Middle East and the news would ask how does this affect Minnesota??). But let's get back to growing up in Iowa.
People say with the German and Scandinavian heritages often found in the Midwest, we have stoic personalities. Yes, this could be true and my dad could fit this, but I might reason this was because of his father's family history. Yes, some folks are stoic. But I grew up with great values from parents who were by no means perfect, but believed in social justice and me. And my parents were Christian, though a liberal sect. I was taught to respect others. I was taught to give back what I could because I had the means. I was taught about service to others and hard work.
When I think of "Southern Culture," I try to think of what this means as someone who is an outsider and learning from being here. I actively seek out information to understand this concept by talking to folks , attending academic sessions about this topic, and reading both academic and other information. I still do not understand, and I don't think I ever will as I'm not from here. Yet, as a sociologist, I must remind myself that there are different stories and different interpretations of the past and the present. As an outsider, if I ask a question, particularly in an academic setting, it is not a critique of the culture. It is not my Northern/Midwestern bias. It is a legitimate question based on using analytic frameworks that sometimes an outsider might see. Sure, my question may not ever come up in reviewing your work, but this is also part of helping academics. When our work is reviewed, reviewers will ask or challenge the analytic frameworks we use.
I'm learning. Yes, like anyone I do have my own biases, which I try to check. Yes, I don't like some of the politics down here (i.e. bring your guns anywhere bill). But when I express what I know it does come from the context of the places I have lived. It's not right or wrong, but a perspective. Let's learn from each other instead of becoming defensive. I also have culture.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Sounding Elitist
As today I prepare for a virtual meeting of feminist bloggers, I finally organize and write thoughts on a topic I have been pondering for a long time. As we push for public sociology, particularly feminist public sociology, what are we aiming for?
I have heard about some feminist research being covered in the media and in the public. Great! We do great research and it should be publicized. But sometimes I wonder if this is not a discipline war. Are we trying to say our research is just as good and needed as, for example, psychology? Is this a way we are trying to professionalize our discipline?
Yet, here is why sometimes I don't blog like a researcher. In my own life, I feel that I walk a fine line, especially in my new location, between those who are highly educated folks and those who are not. I'm surrounded by PhDs and MA/MS in various subjects. But I also interact with folks with Bachelor's degrees and less. Even my educated partner in the "hard sciences" tells me I talk to much to him like a professor.
So, my point being how do we make sociology interesting? Accessible? How do we make it feel not like sitting through one of our classes (which is great, but I'm figuring not everyone one wants to).
Who is our audience? Do we only want other academics to read our blogs, which would be similar to publishing without the peer review. Do we want educated folks to read our blogs? Great, but who and why? Why can't we also reach out to those who lives are affected by our research and teaching.
Let me give you an example from different students and institutions I have taught at. At one prestigious private school, where the students had cultural capital and means to attend the school (usually generations had attended the school), they got theory. They got the big theoretical ideas. Yet, they didn't get how theory applied in everyday experiences as well. The kids were smart and privileged. When I taught at a community college with first generation or older students, they struggled with theory, but they could get the examples of everyday life in terms of demonstrating sociological concepts. They were smart also, but experience resonated with them more and I made assignments, from a feminist pedagogical perspective, in which they could examine their own lives. The point was that their lives mattered and they could be the analyst.
I have PhD in Sociology. I have a Masters in Social Work. With the PhD in Sociology, I should be reading every newspaper and research study. But I don't. With my MSW, I need think about Evidence Based Practices, but I also have to think and realize what the lives of my clients are or maybe beyond what is said on a piece of paper about them.
So, back to a point. Who do we blog for? What is feminist blogging? Does feminist sociological blogging have to cite every important research study using concepts the general public may not know or care about (I'm being a realist). Or can we blog about the everyday experiences, even if we have our own privileged stance, to increase understanding of the value of sociology to our own lives?
I have heard about some feminist research being covered in the media and in the public. Great! We do great research and it should be publicized. But sometimes I wonder if this is not a discipline war. Are we trying to say our research is just as good and needed as, for example, psychology? Is this a way we are trying to professionalize our discipline?
Yet, here is why sometimes I don't blog like a researcher. In my own life, I feel that I walk a fine line, especially in my new location, between those who are highly educated folks and those who are not. I'm surrounded by PhDs and MA/MS in various subjects. But I also interact with folks with Bachelor's degrees and less. Even my educated partner in the "hard sciences" tells me I talk to much to him like a professor.
So, my point being how do we make sociology interesting? Accessible? How do we make it feel not like sitting through one of our classes (which is great, but I'm figuring not everyone one wants to).
Who is our audience? Do we only want other academics to read our blogs, which would be similar to publishing without the peer review. Do we want educated folks to read our blogs? Great, but who and why? Why can't we also reach out to those who lives are affected by our research and teaching.
Let me give you an example from different students and institutions I have taught at. At one prestigious private school, where the students had cultural capital and means to attend the school (usually generations had attended the school), they got theory. They got the big theoretical ideas. Yet, they didn't get how theory applied in everyday experiences as well. The kids were smart and privileged. When I taught at a community college with first generation or older students, they struggled with theory, but they could get the examples of everyday life in terms of demonstrating sociological concepts. They were smart also, but experience resonated with them more and I made assignments, from a feminist pedagogical perspective, in which they could examine their own lives. The point was that their lives mattered and they could be the analyst.
I have PhD in Sociology. I have a Masters in Social Work. With the PhD in Sociology, I should be reading every newspaper and research study. But I don't. With my MSW, I need think about Evidence Based Practices, but I also have to think and realize what the lives of my clients are or maybe beyond what is said on a piece of paper about them.
So, back to a point. Who do we blog for? What is feminist blogging? Does feminist sociological blogging have to cite every important research study using concepts the general public may not know or care about (I'm being a realist). Or can we blog about the everyday experiences, even if we have our own privileged stance, to increase understanding of the value of sociology to our own lives?
A roller coaster of thoughts and emotions
DISCLAIMER... Written last week and posted later.
Where to start today? I traveled from my small town to a lovely city near us for a SOTL conference today. As part of service to the University, I agreed to moderate a session. While I have a great attention to details in some aspects of my life, in picking a session to moderate, I went mostly by time and the general title of the session instead of the full (and I will add "fine print") details about the session. So I ended up moderation a session about an online repository for chemistry materials. Before, I though well, this will be either fascinating or a long hour of my life. BUT it was great. I learned a lot that may be applicable to sociology and different organizations I am involved with. This will be a post for another time.
I also attended another session on internships, which was interesting. I coordinate internships for my department. I am also charged with revising this, which has been challenging being new and taking over something that has not had structure for a long time. I also met a colleague from my campus, which is great to speak to about these issues. Importantly, I also met someone in art design from another institution who faces similar problems and questions I do.
Ms. Knowledge has been quite "sheltered" in her new small town lately and during spring break, spent a majority of the time in her small, depressing rental house trying to revise papers. Ms. Knowledge started missing the Twin Cities greatly in thinking about how if she was bored she could just to IKEA and look around, go to a free museum, or another place, while here the options are limited. And she is still carrying around the guilt of moving her family here (spoken of in other posts and a post for later wondering about how the move affected her children).
So, going to a "city", not a major metro area, stopping by her favorite thrift store, and a better grocery store in the city, put a smile on Ms. Knowledge's face today.
Yet, I was called back to my campus for departmental obligations. After what we will call a meeting, some of the faculty were chatting. Our chair motioned at us. A colleague, whom I did not know as he had been on medical leave before I started, passed away today. The colleague died of cancer at a young age; the day this colleague was supposed to go to Hospice. Colleagues were in tears. It was a sad time.
I did not know the colleague as they were on sick leave by the time I came. However, this was a hard day. My heart went out to my colleagues for their grief. I also felt awkward as I didn't know the colleague. But it also brings up personal things. My father-in-law died of cancer two years ago. It was only 4 months from diagnosis to death and it was around this time two years ago we were making our plans to visit him for the last time, which we didn't know at the time.
Where to start today? I traveled from my small town to a lovely city near us for a SOTL conference today. As part of service to the University, I agreed to moderate a session. While I have a great attention to details in some aspects of my life, in picking a session to moderate, I went mostly by time and the general title of the session instead of the full (and I will add "fine print") details about the session. So I ended up moderation a session about an online repository for chemistry materials. Before, I though well, this will be either fascinating or a long hour of my life. BUT it was great. I learned a lot that may be applicable to sociology and different organizations I am involved with. This will be a post for another time.
I also attended another session on internships, which was interesting. I coordinate internships for my department. I am also charged with revising this, which has been challenging being new and taking over something that has not had structure for a long time. I also met a colleague from my campus, which is great to speak to about these issues. Importantly, I also met someone in art design from another institution who faces similar problems and questions I do.
Ms. Knowledge has been quite "sheltered" in her new small town lately and during spring break, spent a majority of the time in her small, depressing rental house trying to revise papers. Ms. Knowledge started missing the Twin Cities greatly in thinking about how if she was bored she could just to IKEA and look around, go to a free museum, or another place, while here the options are limited. And she is still carrying around the guilt of moving her family here (spoken of in other posts and a post for later wondering about how the move affected her children).
So, going to a "city", not a major metro area, stopping by her favorite thrift store, and a better grocery store in the city, put a smile on Ms. Knowledge's face today.
Yet, I was called back to my campus for departmental obligations. After what we will call a meeting, some of the faculty were chatting. Our chair motioned at us. A colleague, whom I did not know as he had been on medical leave before I started, passed away today. The colleague died of cancer at a young age; the day this colleague was supposed to go to Hospice. Colleagues were in tears. It was a sad time.
I did not know the colleague as they were on sick leave by the time I came. However, this was a hard day. My heart went out to my colleagues for their grief. I also felt awkward as I didn't know the colleague. But it also brings up personal things. My father-in-law died of cancer two years ago. It was only 4 months from diagnosis to death and it was around this time two years ago we were making our plans to visit him for the last time, which we didn't know at the time.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Random Musings
I have neglected blogging... it was spring break, we are going to buy a house here, and my youngest child, well he's 4.
Here are things on my mind, about living in a small town in the South, which this blog seems to be about a lot lately. But that's my life right now. I am being an "arm chair" sociologist with my observations, but I never said they were generalizable. Remember I was born and raised in the Midwest in a stable middle class family. I went to college in a college town in the Midwest, and then lived in Minneapolis for 13 years, where I completed two more degrees, worked, and lived in the urban core.
1) I have a bumper sticker which says "I'm Ready for Hilary." Per a mom's night out, I am known for my bumper sticker (or maybe that my car has duct tape on it and looks like hell, but hey it's a Toyota and it runs). I never thought about putting on bumper stickers until I moved here (and when I was younger my dad would have been quite angry at me for doing this). But after neighbor incident (see a previous post on being called a Yankee), a religious debacle in regards to public schools here, and being in Southern Baptist land, I might be more afraid to put "liberal" bumper stickers on. But you know what, part of me wants to shout to the world, yes, I am a pro-choice, LGBTQ ally, feminist, anti-racist ally, etc and you can't make me leave or hurt me. But the other part of me wonders, and a lot of this stems from teaching sociology and criminology/criminal justice courses and students and knowing their biases, will I get pulled over just because of my sticker? Will someone try to hurt my children because I have this bumper sticker? Or maybe as a few friends have asked me, do people here ven know what this means?
Trust me, I have thought about having a contest of who could send me the most awesome bumper stickers about all the causes I am for and seeing what happened (maybe I could write that up for a journal for an ethnomethodology experiment). Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But I know at least when I see an Obama/Biden bumper sticker on a car, I smile and feel in good company.
2) License plates here... you can pick from the old design or a newer one. But you also get the option to have "In God We Trust" on your plates. Why do people pick this? How do they see religion and god? Knowing that the "In God We Trust" on our money stems from Communist fears back in the day, what does it mean know in the South, in the Deep South? I want to be tolerant of different religious beliefs, but it has been hard here. A lot of this is the influence of the Southern Baptist church here. It's not pretty for folks who believe in rights for many oppressed folks or women's rights.
3) Can I live in this small town? It's about half of the size of the town I grew up in. But it's all catered towards college students. We are buying a house because the rent is inflated here being a college town and honestly my partner and I are more the homeowner type of people (a longer story for another day). I guess if I don't get tenure or it doesn't work out, we could rent at an affordable price to faculty.
But back to the point about can I live here? I finally have that dream TT job!!! I am finally getting back into the research mind after applied work and training. Yet, I miss things from the city. I miss having museums less than a 15 minute drive. I miss having IKEA (yes, I do... you can spend hours just looking around). I miss having good restaurants and grocery stores that stock stuff we buy. I miss being anonymous in ways too. I miss having a selection of bars to go to for happy hour where I don't know everyone there.
And I feel guilty at times about bringing my family here. We moved here for my job. This means that we miss out on things we left. How will my kids feel when they are teens living in a small town? How do I repay to my partner for his move here, where he lacks many things he enjoys and outlets for his work?
Yes, there are pros... it's warm. We can garden longer. We can drive to the ocean in about an hour. We have a cool town about 45 minutes away. But sometimes I feel that I am going crazy here... I'm being honest and that's what I have to be now.
Until next time....
Here are things on my mind, about living in a small town in the South, which this blog seems to be about a lot lately. But that's my life right now. I am being an "arm chair" sociologist with my observations, but I never said they were generalizable. Remember I was born and raised in the Midwest in a stable middle class family. I went to college in a college town in the Midwest, and then lived in Minneapolis for 13 years, where I completed two more degrees, worked, and lived in the urban core.
1) I have a bumper sticker which says "I'm Ready for Hilary." Per a mom's night out, I am known for my bumper sticker (or maybe that my car has duct tape on it and looks like hell, but hey it's a Toyota and it runs). I never thought about putting on bumper stickers until I moved here (and when I was younger my dad would have been quite angry at me for doing this). But after neighbor incident (see a previous post on being called a Yankee), a religious debacle in regards to public schools here, and being in Southern Baptist land, I might be more afraid to put "liberal" bumper stickers on. But you know what, part of me wants to shout to the world, yes, I am a pro-choice, LGBTQ ally, feminist, anti-racist ally, etc and you can't make me leave or hurt me. But the other part of me wonders, and a lot of this stems from teaching sociology and criminology/criminal justice courses and students and knowing their biases, will I get pulled over just because of my sticker? Will someone try to hurt my children because I have this bumper sticker? Or maybe as a few friends have asked me, do people here ven know what this means?
Trust me, I have thought about having a contest of who could send me the most awesome bumper stickers about all the causes I am for and seeing what happened (maybe I could write that up for a journal for an ethnomethodology experiment). Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But I know at least when I see an Obama/Biden bumper sticker on a car, I smile and feel in good company.
2) License plates here... you can pick from the old design or a newer one. But you also get the option to have "In God We Trust" on your plates. Why do people pick this? How do they see religion and god? Knowing that the "In God We Trust" on our money stems from Communist fears back in the day, what does it mean know in the South, in the Deep South? I want to be tolerant of different religious beliefs, but it has been hard here. A lot of this is the influence of the Southern Baptist church here. It's not pretty for folks who believe in rights for many oppressed folks or women's rights.
3) Can I live in this small town? It's about half of the size of the town I grew up in. But it's all catered towards college students. We are buying a house because the rent is inflated here being a college town and honestly my partner and I are more the homeowner type of people (a longer story for another day). I guess if I don't get tenure or it doesn't work out, we could rent at an affordable price to faculty.
But back to the point about can I live here? I finally have that dream TT job!!! I am finally getting back into the research mind after applied work and training. Yet, I miss things from the city. I miss having museums less than a 15 minute drive. I miss having IKEA (yes, I do... you can spend hours just looking around). I miss having good restaurants and grocery stores that stock stuff we buy. I miss being anonymous in ways too. I miss having a selection of bars to go to for happy hour where I don't know everyone there.
And I feel guilty at times about bringing my family here. We moved here for my job. This means that we miss out on things we left. How will my kids feel when they are teens living in a small town? How do I repay to my partner for his move here, where he lacks many things he enjoys and outlets for his work?
Yes, there are pros... it's warm. We can garden longer. We can drive to the ocean in about an hour. We have a cool town about 45 minutes away. But sometimes I feel that I am going crazy here... I'm being honest and that's what I have to be now.
Until next time....
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Growing Thicker Skin & The Emotion Work of Teaching
This past week has been a long week in working with students, emotionally supporting them, and then having one who dislikes me.
My teaching week started with a student who does average in my class ending up in my office discussing her work. I suggested she use the writing center, but I also told her this was not a negative thing. I explained to her that I received this suggestion during graduate school, that it takes me a long time to write, and some other things I have been told about my writing. I also told her about a Dean at a college I was once worked at, who was an English professor, who told us that she has her own personal editor because of the struggles she has with writing. The student started crying, and I knew this was beyond the writing center suggestion. To find out, I asked what was going on. She works two shifts at her job and only is able to sleep on the weekends. She can't afford not to. So, I talked with her about how she doesn't have to get an A in my class and that she needs to make her own priorities (i.e. I'm a realist here and know that not working or working less was not going to be an option for her). Passing the class with a C is fine. I don't write this because this will be the only case of this, but this dilemma of working full time and going to school is real for many students at my university.
On Thursday, my next teaching day, I saw a student I had last semester. Her face was puffy, red, and around her eyes even looked purple. My first thought was did she get hurt. We talked and the student found out the day before a good friend of hers committed suicide. The friend shot herself in a car and no one found her until three days later in the car. I listened to her talk and gave her a hug. My heart breaks for her.
Later on Thursday, I had another student, who I adore, in my office. She battles trauma. She is struggling now for various reasons after struggling last semester. She has decided to attend school part time, which is a good thing. And I spent time listening to her, letting her express her emotions, and giving her encouragment.
I do not mind when these things happen. I get sad because of the situations I cannot change for my students. I am glad that they are able to confide in me and have somewhere safe on campus to talk and to have someone listen to them. But yet, it is emotional work. It is the work that we don't necessarily talk about when we talk about teaching. It's what people don't notice about our jobs (also including the time we spend prepping for courses), but the time we take to listen and support our students. I know not all college professors or instructors do this, in listening to students and letting them have a space to express their emotions. Some would say that we are not therapists and this is not our job. Maybe because I was trained in my MSW program to do therapy and did practice in this area before coming back to teaching, I am more apt to do this. But even before this when I was teaching it would happen. However, I think that if you are on the people who can do this for your students, you make a difference. You may be the one person they can talk to. The student may not be able to afford or access therapy. You don't need to be trained in therapy to be a good listener. You don't have to offer advice to the student on their emotional issues, but tell them it's okay to have emotions. The most important thing we learn in being trained in clinical mental health is LISTENING! That is one of the most essential supportive, empathetic things we can do.
But yet, I think it is also important that we do listen to students and in an academic advisement role, help them navigate their options. For instance, a conversation earlier this semester with a student about her schedule, her want to do an internship, a low GPA, and the reasons for this GPA led to a discussion I had with her about managing 18 credit hours for two semesters when she had problems in the past. Some of this is about being human and recognizing what we know about having full plates and what it means to be a student with many obligations.
Yet, the time I took with the students this week and the knowledge I brought to bear on these situations may not get recognized in my annual reviews and scores for teaching for merit. This isn't a new subject and probably is very much gendered that women professors end up doing more of this emotional labor. Whether it counts or not, I think it is time for me to start documenting this time. Some may say it might backfire, but at a regional state school in which our funding is tied into having students complete a certain number of credit hours and a push to mentor students now that they have professional advisers for each department in our college, why shouldn't it count?
Later in the week, let's just say I had a bad teaching week. I could not let go of what happened in my classes this week. Did I screw up? How could I have done better? Can I salvage the class?
I need to get better at having "thicker skin" in these moments in class and not worrying consistently about them.
In talking with colleagues, I was comforted and said not to worry and really to have thicker skin. I was told also first year faculty get tested and generally you get students who don't want to take the other professors. Others told me I should enact my professor role more and tell students what I do find unacceptable.
So, I have to move on from this and repair this class somehow and make it more structured, which is sad for some of the students as we would have good conversations in teaching this class like a seminar. But this is also the day I realized that publications count more. In being treated like I am not a human, but I should be a robot professor was also the day I realized that more time needs to be spent on research than class prep.
I know this all comes with the job. I know I have had difficult students in the past. I know I did things wrong, for which I have and do apologize (which I think is a thing not all professors would do). But with moving to the South from the North, starting a new job this year, and all that comes with this that I have wrote about, my skin has loosened. I remember feeling these things the first year I taught as a graduate student or in a new place before. I have to get thicker skin again.
My teaching week started with a student who does average in my class ending up in my office discussing her work. I suggested she use the writing center, but I also told her this was not a negative thing. I explained to her that I received this suggestion during graduate school, that it takes me a long time to write, and some other things I have been told about my writing. I also told her about a Dean at a college I was once worked at, who was an English professor, who told us that she has her own personal editor because of the struggles she has with writing. The student started crying, and I knew this was beyond the writing center suggestion. To find out, I asked what was going on. She works two shifts at her job and only is able to sleep on the weekends. She can't afford not to. So, I talked with her about how she doesn't have to get an A in my class and that she needs to make her own priorities (i.e. I'm a realist here and know that not working or working less was not going to be an option for her). Passing the class with a C is fine. I don't write this because this will be the only case of this, but this dilemma of working full time and going to school is real for many students at my university.
On Thursday, my next teaching day, I saw a student I had last semester. Her face was puffy, red, and around her eyes even looked purple. My first thought was did she get hurt. We talked and the student found out the day before a good friend of hers committed suicide. The friend shot herself in a car and no one found her until three days later in the car. I listened to her talk and gave her a hug. My heart breaks for her.
Later on Thursday, I had another student, who I adore, in my office. She battles trauma. She is struggling now for various reasons after struggling last semester. She has decided to attend school part time, which is a good thing. And I spent time listening to her, letting her express her emotions, and giving her encouragment.
I do not mind when these things happen. I get sad because of the situations I cannot change for my students. I am glad that they are able to confide in me and have somewhere safe on campus to talk and to have someone listen to them. But yet, it is emotional work. It is the work that we don't necessarily talk about when we talk about teaching. It's what people don't notice about our jobs (also including the time we spend prepping for courses), but the time we take to listen and support our students. I know not all college professors or instructors do this, in listening to students and letting them have a space to express their emotions. Some would say that we are not therapists and this is not our job. Maybe because I was trained in my MSW program to do therapy and did practice in this area before coming back to teaching, I am more apt to do this. But even before this when I was teaching it would happen. However, I think that if you are on the people who can do this for your students, you make a difference. You may be the one person they can talk to. The student may not be able to afford or access therapy. You don't need to be trained in therapy to be a good listener. You don't have to offer advice to the student on their emotional issues, but tell them it's okay to have emotions. The most important thing we learn in being trained in clinical mental health is LISTENING! That is one of the most essential supportive, empathetic things we can do.
But yet, I think it is also important that we do listen to students and in an academic advisement role, help them navigate their options. For instance, a conversation earlier this semester with a student about her schedule, her want to do an internship, a low GPA, and the reasons for this GPA led to a discussion I had with her about managing 18 credit hours for two semesters when she had problems in the past. Some of this is about being human and recognizing what we know about having full plates and what it means to be a student with many obligations.
Yet, the time I took with the students this week and the knowledge I brought to bear on these situations may not get recognized in my annual reviews and scores for teaching for merit. This isn't a new subject and probably is very much gendered that women professors end up doing more of this emotional labor. Whether it counts or not, I think it is time for me to start documenting this time. Some may say it might backfire, but at a regional state school in which our funding is tied into having students complete a certain number of credit hours and a push to mentor students now that they have professional advisers for each department in our college, why shouldn't it count?
Later in the week, let's just say I had a bad teaching week. I could not let go of what happened in my classes this week. Did I screw up? How could I have done better? Can I salvage the class?
I need to get better at having "thicker skin" in these moments in class and not worrying consistently about them.
In talking with colleagues, I was comforted and said not to worry and really to have thicker skin. I was told also first year faculty get tested and generally you get students who don't want to take the other professors. Others told me I should enact my professor role more and tell students what I do find unacceptable.
So, I have to move on from this and repair this class somehow and make it more structured, which is sad for some of the students as we would have good conversations in teaching this class like a seminar. But this is also the day I realized that publications count more. In being treated like I am not a human, but I should be a robot professor was also the day I realized that more time needs to be spent on research than class prep.
I know this all comes with the job. I know I have had difficult students in the past. I know I did things wrong, for which I have and do apologize (which I think is a thing not all professors would do). But with moving to the South from the North, starting a new job this year, and all that comes with this that I have wrote about, my skin has loosened. I remember feeling these things the first year I taught as a graduate student or in a new place before. I have to get thicker skin again.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Heavy Metal and Church
When I first moved to this city in the Deep South, I discovered that in my house, I had a hard time getting radio station signals on my little clock radio, which even has an antenna. One Sunday morning this summer as I was cleaning after moving in (yes, this might be even the day I found what I believe to be a sex toy of some sorts in the bathroom cabinet... nice cleaning job landlord!), I had the radio on to the one station I could get somewhat clear reception. Some might call it a classic rock channel, while I've never paid enough attention to note what the radio station labels itself. They play various artists such as Black Sabbath, the Who, Nirvana, to what has been labeled as "Southern Rock", a category I still do not understand. While I would listen to some of these artists on their own, some of the music is not my first choice or reminds me of people from my past I would like to forget. Yet, I am digressing from my point.... it's one of the only radio stations I can get in my house or car that is not strictly country (not anything wrong with county, I just don't like new country music). So, I played this station this one Sunday morning...
Sometime in the later morning hours as I was cleaning and my attention came back to the radio station, and I realized it was not music anymore, but a live broadcast of a church service. While I don't know what church it was, based on where I live and the proportion of churches here (Southern and Primitive Baptist ones dominate), I'm guessing from this and what was said, it was some sort of Baptist church sermon being broadcasted.
I thought this was ironic at the time... come on, Black Sabbath is not generally considered Christian music. But what do I know, or as a sociologists, I do know about value contradictions.
Eventually, I saved myself from the lack of radio stations when I received my Ipad and could play Pandora or using the Ipod in the car. But again this is a digression from my point.
This past Sunday the kids and I went to church and came home after before leaving for something else. It's about 3 minutes or less travel time between the Unitarian Univeraslist church and our house; alas not always worth the effort to plug in the Ipod. As we were driving back to our house, the heavy metal station was on in the car, but it was church time on the station.
While I only listened for a few minutes, I found myself debating/yelling at the radio and the pastor (is this the right word... I'm not a religious scholar) as he (and it is always a he in the Baptist church), discuss being human. As days have passed since Sunday, I forget all that was said, but the one point that just got me was him talking about being a chair vs. being a human (what an analogy!).
So, the pastor talked about how a chair knew what it is... a chair knows it is a chair. He then went on to talk about humans and something about morality, which is when I stopped listening. Okay, but how can you even make this comparison to humans to a chair? I'm not a philosopher, but a sociologist. A chair does not know it is a chair because well a chair doesn't have a brain, feelings, and the so forth. Sorry folks, a chair is an object. Instead, we as a society have decided it is a chair and what it should be used for. We have constructed the meaning of this object.... and this could differ depending on time, place, etc...
Yes, this may seem like a trivial topic to post about, but I still can't believe the comparison used. And as a sociologist, this comparison seems even worse, especially if his point was about how we as humans are supposed to be good people and look to "God" to know how to be good and what we should do. This brings on a whole new host of issues, such as my strong held belief if you need "God" to tell you how to be good, well, you might have some thinking to do. Or that with these conservative religions, the preachings of "God" don't always tell you to be good to others (i.e. LGBTQ folks, abortion providers, etc..).
So, to end, no sir, a chair does not know what it is. A chair does not think. A chair is wood. The wood may have came from a living tree, but it is now wood. A chair is not a living, breathing thing with a mind. Instead, we have constructed what it is as a society. It is a social construction. And to use this as an example of why or how we should believe in "God" seems a bit out of the woods.
Sometime in the later morning hours as I was cleaning and my attention came back to the radio station, and I realized it was not music anymore, but a live broadcast of a church service. While I don't know what church it was, based on where I live and the proportion of churches here (Southern and Primitive Baptist ones dominate), I'm guessing from this and what was said, it was some sort of Baptist church sermon being broadcasted.
I thought this was ironic at the time... come on, Black Sabbath is not generally considered Christian music. But what do I know, or as a sociologists, I do know about value contradictions.
Eventually, I saved myself from the lack of radio stations when I received my Ipad and could play Pandora or using the Ipod in the car. But again this is a digression from my point.
This past Sunday the kids and I went to church and came home after before leaving for something else. It's about 3 minutes or less travel time between the Unitarian Univeraslist church and our house; alas not always worth the effort to plug in the Ipod. As we were driving back to our house, the heavy metal station was on in the car, but it was church time on the station.
While I only listened for a few minutes, I found myself debating/yelling at the radio and the pastor (is this the right word... I'm not a religious scholar) as he (and it is always a he in the Baptist church), discuss being human. As days have passed since Sunday, I forget all that was said, but the one point that just got me was him talking about being a chair vs. being a human (what an analogy!).
So, the pastor talked about how a chair knew what it is... a chair knows it is a chair. He then went on to talk about humans and something about morality, which is when I stopped listening. Okay, but how can you even make this comparison to humans to a chair? I'm not a philosopher, but a sociologist. A chair does not know it is a chair because well a chair doesn't have a brain, feelings, and the so forth. Sorry folks, a chair is an object. Instead, we as a society have decided it is a chair and what it should be used for. We have constructed the meaning of this object.... and this could differ depending on time, place, etc...
Yes, this may seem like a trivial topic to post about, but I still can't believe the comparison used. And as a sociologist, this comparison seems even worse, especially if his point was about how we as humans are supposed to be good people and look to "God" to know how to be good and what we should do. This brings on a whole new host of issues, such as my strong held belief if you need "God" to tell you how to be good, well, you might have some thinking to do. Or that with these conservative religions, the preachings of "God" don't always tell you to be good to others (i.e. LGBTQ folks, abortion providers, etc..).
So, to end, no sir, a chair does not know what it is. A chair does not think. A chair is wood. The wood may have came from a living tree, but it is now wood. A chair is not a living, breathing thing with a mind. Instead, we have constructed what it is as a society. It is a social construction. And to use this as an example of why or how we should believe in "God" seems a bit out of the woods.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
What, I made a gramatical error yesterday?
Ms. Knowledge apologize not only for her grammatical errors in her previous post (way to go professor!), but also her post describing her depressed mood. And why is Ms. Knowledge talking in Elmo speak (i.e. third person)? (Editorial Note... this was started yesterday, but finished today
Today is a new day, but another learning lesson in being in a TT job. Today I received the scores my first annual review and the summary of my peer teaching evaluation that happened yesterday (wow, my colleague works fast). I discuss the results of the annual review with my chair on Monday. I don't know what to think, though I do have concerns. Like any evaluation, I think there are things we can agree with that we already knew, but there are things that remain mysteries (such as how student evaluations of teaching are rated, especially when you are prepping all new classes and just moved cross county) and well the fear of publishing is now escalated (well, I guess it always is, isn't it?). I've said this here before, but as a friend from graduate school once said, we have to be perfect at everything. And I full well knew this before accepting my TT job, but it seems so different when the you are actually on the tenure clock.
So this leads me to a few topics and questions that may or may not be discussed as I write this while trying to prepare dinner (mulch-tasking), a day spent trying to figure out per-aprroval for a mortgage to buy a house here, a faculty meeting, and well getting the results back from what I mentioned above. I am tired. I am burnt, but yet I have this odd sense of energy as the week ends and I reflect.
Today is a new day, but another learning lesson in being in a TT job. Today I received the scores my first annual review and the summary of my peer teaching evaluation that happened yesterday (wow, my colleague works fast). I discuss the results of the annual review with my chair on Monday. I don't know what to think, though I do have concerns. Like any evaluation, I think there are things we can agree with that we already knew, but there are things that remain mysteries (such as how student evaluations of teaching are rated, especially when you are prepping all new classes and just moved cross county) and well the fear of publishing is now escalated (well, I guess it always is, isn't it?). I've said this here before, but as a friend from graduate school once said, we have to be perfect at everything. And I full well knew this before accepting my TT job, but it seems so different when the you are actually on the tenure clock.
So this leads me to a few topics and questions that may or may not be discussed as I write this while trying to prepare dinner (mulch-tasking), a day spent trying to figure out per-aprroval for a mortgage to buy a house here, a faculty meeting, and well getting the results back from what I mentioned above. I am tired. I am burnt, but yet I have this odd sense of energy as the week ends and I reflect.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Losing my sh**
I've tried for this entire week to construct a blog post on the trailing spouse... I write too much. I think too much. I get distracted. I get away from my main point.
I love my job. Don't get me wrong. I didn't have to come back into academia. But it's not the glorious path many think. Some of us get jobs in good colleges/universities, but in small, rural towns. These are not R1 schools, which is fine by me, but you also don't have the access to the same resources. But I'm not complaining about that...
My partner came with me to support our family, but he gave up amenities for his career to do so. My partner does have his own business and has to her for the sake of our location. He is not an academic.
We have to find a different place to live here, but are limited with finances. I dislike my neighbor so much I often feel sick when I see him. Our rental house is small. My office is the kitchen table, which does not work well. My partner works from home... I need space to work from home but not be near him. My kids need a space to be kids.
I'm carrying around my own depression, anxiety, guilt, which is enough to derail my mind from the publishing I need to be doing. And then I carry around the guilt, real or imagined, in relation to my family moving here.
No, it's not my dream town. I have a few friends (but it's hard to classify friends as an adult). I feel my own isolation .
At times like this, I wish I could just be a conservative and say well "god will tell me what to do" or "if I pray hard enough, things will work out", but I don't believe in that (but unfortunately I am surrounded by this in Southern Baptist land).
Maybe y'all would handle this all better, but feel that I am losing my shit at times .I want to the be the rock star scholar, but maybe I never can obtain this. Maybe things have to change in ways I don't want to think about or admit, but now, I'm in a low place that I need to get out of .
Am I the only academic who has dealt with these things with a non-academic spouse who follows?????
I love my job. Don't get me wrong. I didn't have to come back into academia. But it's not the glorious path many think. Some of us get jobs in good colleges/universities, but in small, rural towns. These are not R1 schools, which is fine by me, but you also don't have the access to the same resources. But I'm not complaining about that...
My partner came with me to support our family, but he gave up amenities for his career to do so. My partner does have his own business and has to her for the sake of our location. He is not an academic.
We have to find a different place to live here, but are limited with finances. I dislike my neighbor so much I often feel sick when I see him. Our rental house is small. My office is the kitchen table, which does not work well. My partner works from home... I need space to work from home but not be near him. My kids need a space to be kids.
I'm carrying around my own depression, anxiety, guilt, which is enough to derail my mind from the publishing I need to be doing. And then I carry around the guilt, real or imagined, in relation to my family moving here.
No, it's not my dream town. I have a few friends (but it's hard to classify friends as an adult). I feel my own isolation .
At times like this, I wish I could just be a conservative and say well "god will tell me what to do" or "if I pray hard enough, things will work out", but I don't believe in that (but unfortunately I am surrounded by this in Southern Baptist land).
Maybe y'all would handle this all better, but feel that I am losing my shit at times .I want to the be the rock star scholar, but maybe I never can obtain this. Maybe things have to change in ways I don't want to think about or admit, but now, I'm in a low place that I need to get out of .
Am I the only academic who has dealt with these things with a non-academic spouse who follows?????
Monday, February 24, 2014
from gangs and drugs to the rural deep South: finding your place
I wrote earlier, for which I congratulate myself. I write
now, hoping something coherent spills on the page, which is not easy for me in
general, but it's not particularly easy to type on a lap top with a brace on
for carpal tunnel. But here it goes because at the least blogging
makes me feel somewhat productive, but really, it lets me think "out-loud"
to myself on paper (well the computer screen).
And I am inside my head way too often, which I am going to venture to
say many academics are, but ones who struggle with anxiety and depression may
feel this to an extreme.
I now reside in a very small town. I hope I have made
friends, but I wonder if I have. I live
in a very small town in the rural south, in which I will never completely fit
in. I was born and raised in the Midwest and lived thirteen years in the Twin
Cities metro area in Minnesota. I lived in the inner-city in Minneapolis. We
had gangs, graffiti, gunshots, muggings, you name it. Did I ever tell you about
the time there was a kid in our freshly tilled garden who ran from the police
after a sting? As he laid with a sawed off shot gun... Yea, that was kind of
interesting. Or the man who stole my mac
computer early in the morning, while I ran in my house to protect myself and
family. Or the guy my partner gave a $20 to in his empty diaper bag who said he
needed to buy diapers for his kid. Or, the guy who came up to my house asking
for money and when I told him I didn't carry cash, he said I could drive him to
the ATM. Yea, like that happened. So, yes, we had some interesting experiences.
But I loved my neighbors. At the end we were close. We
borrowed tools. We helped each other remodel and garden. We grilled. We stopped
by. We had block parties. I miss our big
old house. My once colorful (green and purple in the living room and dining
room) house. I miss my attic bedroom that felt like a tree house. I miss my
garden and all the flowers I spent years cultivating. Snow... I don't miss you,
nor the cold.
But I think of Simmel's work as I think about life now and
then. I'm too tired to go and find his quotes, but to say there is something
about living in a large area. You can be
anonymous. I didn't know everyone in Minneapolis. I didn't even know everyone
in our neighborhood. Sure, I thought at the time how great it would be to be
somewhere where you were a closer knit community, people knew you, and there
would be this ethic of community. People may know my shit, but they would care?
Now I live here... this small community in rural Southeast
Georgia. When I got here, things seemed to be great. You are new and people
invite you over. And then things trickle off as they have their things going
and I was/am supposed to be working or having found my group? But that's the
thing, the University is about the size of the town and most of us are friends
with people there. The pool is small in many ways. And yes, people know your
shit when you do dumb shit (not speaking about me... Yes, I've done dumb shit
in my life, but that was prior to the internet!). But since the pools is small and a friend and
I reflect on this, there are things I wonder about. And I wonder if this is my
"anxiety" speaking or does anyone else feel like me. Of course I would like to fit into a social
circle (or few). I'm like that. My partner is not as concerned, but he also
takes a longer time getting to know people and rightfully so, I can see how a
group of us academics can bore him. And he's a computer programmer.. his
computer is his friend. I want to be
seen as something special, a person people truly would like to hang out with. I
want my kids to be seen the same, but the younger one is having some trouble in
his behaviors lately. I don't want to be
lonely. I try to focus on what I do have. But sometimes it's not enough and I
don't know long I can feel on the margins of a new town, that isn't always
welcoming to a Yankee (and a feminist woman Yankee at that). I've heard it gets better and I want to
believe. And I am working on getting better with my own issues (ever heard
about how stress can exacerbate mental health issues.... )
Back in the days that I spoke with a therapist, which I
highly recommend for anyone (and if you didn't know therapists are supposed to
talk with therapists) and we talked
about my feelings of being lonely but being tied down with two children, she
suggested I invited people over. Well, let's think about this. Good idea, but
bad idea. I was the person who was upset at my wedding because some folks
couldn't get their drunk assess across town from the bar to our reception that
had liquor at it. So, yes, by all means
I was happy with who came, but why didn't the other people. You see, I am that
person. My partner can brush it off. I'm more of the sensitive one . I sense
your feelings and am empathetic, but the spin on this is that yes, I know I am
emotional. So, I'm trying this strategy
again here though I am embarrassed about our rental house (seriously, it's ugly
and too small for our family) . It's worked a few times to have folks over, but
when I try to invite the ones I really want to hang out with, it doesn't seem
that it happens. And then I wonder why. It could be that they are truly busy
and have not time. It could be that someone is allergic to our dogs. And maybe
that's part of this. Or some people can
be a bit flighty and also overbook. But then I wonder and worry if it is
because they don't really like me and don't want to tell me so. Which cycles
and cycles in my head. Because I am
sensitive, do I scare you? Or I think
about what I might have done to make them mad. And this my fellow readers
cycles in which anxiety and depression are linked.
So how does this get back to this small town living idea? Did
Simmel think about mental health and emotions?
Maybe... I didn't read much of his beyond my graduate theory course or
when I've taught about him in different classes. But where it does get back to the small town
thing for me where faculty are close, I worry about how I fit in, who is my friend, and my support community.
Second guessing is easy and hard for me to do; easy because I can do it second
nature; hard because I know I shouldn't do it, but I feel the need to be
prepared to be hurt.
There are only so many social circles to fit into here. I
thought I was doing well. I thought I was doing good and bringing good vibes,
despite the times I did break down. And my friends, there was a lot going on
that I have not all wrote about here, from my own medical issues, to my partner
thinking he was having a heart attack with a not so great family history that
were/all part of the package of the time.
Is it because I have anxiety and depression I long for
someone to invite me to do something? To be my friend? Is it because of being
an only child? I won't know the answers and I know this, but sometimes I do
want to know what "normal" thinking people feel about these
things. I've been coping at times by
getting back into my work. Not as much the research, but that is next, and this
is a large part of blogging again. Taking the time to think, reflect, and
write.
Yes, I want someone to say to me "You are great!",
"You are awesome!", "Please join us because you are a rock
star." But I know as an adult and someone who has worked in mental health
also, you can't get what you want from others. It starts with yourself. So,
tell me readers, are any of my feelings normal? Can I say publicly that I am sorry for who I
am at times? That I am sorry that I
needed some extra support and it may have came out shitty. I am sorry. I like
you all and hope we can be friends. Until then, I work on myself and have to be
okay with feeling ups and downs through-ought each day and hope I can heal, be better to myself and
others, and find the energy that is bogging me down to write and to continue to
do research.
My mind amazes me, but on the outside you may never know....
I have 10 minutes before I leave for campus for a meeting. I
have attempted to write two different posts a few times this weekend. I
couldn't do it. Why??? Writer's block? My mentality? Wait, they
both link. My wonder if what I says matter? Yes, that too.
It's Monday. Though I don't teach, I'm behind. I am panicked
about publications and research, but what's new. That's a lot of my own faulty.
My 4 year old has been well, a 4 year old and by 8:30 am, I'm ready
for a nap or wine already. I'm homesick for the friends that get me. I am
homesick for my hometown I moved away from the age of 18. I am sad that my kids rarely see their grandparents. I
feel guilt I brought my family to this place, even though I love my job. I am
lonely, sans my ultimate friend I have made here who feels like we have known
each for other. I am tired. I don't want to sell any more girl scout cookies. I
want to take a day, sit outside, write to myself, and write and revise an
article. But that's not going to happen. We are looking at a really cheap
house. That's exciting and scary. My neighbor still freaks me out now. I miss
the dog we watched over the weekend.
My mind... It thinks too much. Too much that I have a hard
time articulating a thought. Some think I can't think or speak, but you don't
know... my mind is complex. My mind is analytical. My mind tricks me. My mind
amazes me, but on the outside you may never know....
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Chances to Write and Speak
I have two thoughts on my mind this morning about writing and speaking. I had volunteered if needed and thus was asked to speak at my church, a UU one, in March. Members and outside folks often speak during services. But what am I going to talk about? I can talk about anything. Thoughts on topics include:
a) Do I take the risk and talk about mental health and my story? The rationale is to remove stigma and barriers associated with mental health and be a role model for those who struggle silently. But, what are the possible consequences? How much do I want to expose? How will people see me?
b) Do I use this as a time to talk about my future research on mental health during pregnancy? I have not collected data yet, but have read enough and lived through the experience. Would the membership find it interesting to talk about the cultural mandates of motherhood? Can I tie this into being more loving and accepting of others and ourselves? Would this open up research opportunities and collaborations?
c) I have thought about talking about ally development, especially in a very accepting church, but one in which members may believe since they are UU folks, they are not racist, homophobic, etc... But as we know, microagressions occur daily and ally development is a process. If I go this route do I talk about theories on ally development? Bring in my work when I interned at a GLBTA office on a university campus, which was an eye opening experience of how little I knew about issues that folks who identify as trans experience?
I am exited about this opportunity and need to make a decision soon.
My second thought is that a call went out for a sociology journal that is doing something different in seeming to promote public sociology or a different type of sociology than traditionally published in journals. I asked two local groups of people if they were interested in writing.
I asked a group of students who have spoken of their lives. Many of them are African American women who live in the Deep South and experience racism and the intersection of gender and race in their daily lives. Would they want to talk about their stories? How can I contribute to this piece?
I also asked my Reverend, who has lived here all her life, and another student who was just ordained as a minister in a more conservative church, but has done so much work with immigration reform here.
But the idea of working with students, collaborating on writing a piece excites me! It may not get published, but it's a start.
a) Do I take the risk and talk about mental health and my story? The rationale is to remove stigma and barriers associated with mental health and be a role model for those who struggle silently. But, what are the possible consequences? How much do I want to expose? How will people see me?
b) Do I use this as a time to talk about my future research on mental health during pregnancy? I have not collected data yet, but have read enough and lived through the experience. Would the membership find it interesting to talk about the cultural mandates of motherhood? Can I tie this into being more loving and accepting of others and ourselves? Would this open up research opportunities and collaborations?
c) I have thought about talking about ally development, especially in a very accepting church, but one in which members may believe since they are UU folks, they are not racist, homophobic, etc... But as we know, microagressions occur daily and ally development is a process. If I go this route do I talk about theories on ally development? Bring in my work when I interned at a GLBTA office on a university campus, which was an eye opening experience of how little I knew about issues that folks who identify as trans experience?
I am exited about this opportunity and need to make a decision soon.
My second thought is that a call went out for a sociology journal that is doing something different in seeming to promote public sociology or a different type of sociology than traditionally published in journals. I asked two local groups of people if they were interested in writing.
I asked a group of students who have spoken of their lives. Many of them are African American women who live in the Deep South and experience racism and the intersection of gender and race in their daily lives. Would they want to talk about their stories? How can I contribute to this piece?
I also asked my Reverend, who has lived here all her life, and another student who was just ordained as a minister in a more conservative church, but has done so much work with immigration reform here.
But the idea of working with students, collaborating on writing a piece excites me! It may not get published, but it's a start.
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