Why I'll probably never be that teacher

To be that teacher,

• I would probably need to get a PhD.  Not because it would make me a better teacher, but because schools like that, and they prefer to hire people with doctorates.
• I would need to be able to teach at least a couple of adjunct classes a semester every semester for several years to gain experience.  Better yet, I would need to be able to devote myself to adjunct teaching full time for several years.  Most places like experience, even if they don't know what kind of teacher you are. You need experience to make them even care to look into what kind of teacher you are.
• I would need to pursue publication seriously.  Not that publication is a sign that your writing is necessarily better than others, but having a publication record is important to schools, especially ones that want to be seen as serious schools.

Even if I could do all of these things, it would still not guarantee me a chance to try to be that teacher.  However, if I can't do these things, the chance of me ever getting to try to be that teacher is basically 0.  And the truth is that I can't really do these things.  Story of my life recently.  I don't have the time, money, energy, lowered standards, or stubborn willpower needed.  I am broken and hurting and not sleeping well and not at my mental best. It's all I can do to hold down a full time job with benefits to help me pay for all the medical treatments and medications. 

I have been thinking about dreams again lately.  I have wanted to teach since I was in high school, and I have taught, so that dream has come true.  If I'm honest, I'll also admit that what I wanted to do was teach full time.  If I pursue this desire, I will have to sacrifice many other things for the possibility that I may be able to do what I want and think I am gifted at. 

A problem is that I want to help people in my church and community now.  If I choose to live in the future in my dream, I sacrifice the good I can do now.  And that feels selfish to me right now.  Other people who are slaving and sacrificing for their dreams maybe don't feel that way, and I think that's fine for them.  More power to 'em.  But I don't think I can plan ahead like this anymore.  I think I want to help concretely now.  I want to be that teacher, too, but maybe some wants are more important than others.  Maybe those things are what I should be wanting more.

What do you think?

I want to be that teacher

I have fulfilled my dream of teaching college writing by teaching a couple of online composition classes, and I still want to be that teacher.  I think I would be good at being that teacher.  You know, the one who

• knows all about the major and minors and department and catalog and makes sure her advisees are on track.  
• is dedicated to helping students understand and learn and apply.  
• teaches students to love learning and words and communication.
• students love and come to for help because they can tell the teacher loves them and wants to help them succeed.  
• learns from her students and takes delight in learning all sorts of things.  
• loves her job and constantly finds ways to love it anew.  
• is involved in the school and helps out on committees and in the community.  
• has office hours and is available outside them.  
• has an office you want to stay in, so you can look around.  
• teaches students about how to try to be a decent human being.  

I want to be that teacher.  And I don't think I ever will be.  And it hurts.

Teaching The Sparrow

Well, that was fun. 

In case you wondered where I disappeared to for the last week, I was getting ready for tonight.  I just got back from guest teaching a class about The Sparrow.  Aside from the few people who never said anything (probably hated it), everyone seemed engaged with it on some level, though a few people didn't really get it.

"Such hubris!  Those Jesuits . . ."
"Um, I don't think we can just pin this on Jesuits."
"Oh, I know; it's all missionaries!"
"Um, no, I think it's all humans."

That was the most frustrating misunderstanding, and it came at the end in a flurry of discussion, so I couldn't redirect the reader's attention.  :(  This isn't (just) a book about Jesuits in space.  It's about people and how we, with the best of intentions, sometimes get really terrible results, even if/though God exists.  (The book allows for either.)  Yes, science fiction with subtext!  (And how.) 

This book had super-high reread value.  Nothing was wasted; everything had meaning (the theme was on every page in every conversation).  It was so painful . . .  I started crying around page 179.  I didn't even bother with tissues; I didn't want my nose to be peeling off when I tried to teach the class.

It's nice to talk about a great book with bright people.  There were so many things we didn't get to talk about.  I want to do it again.  :)

Teaching yourself things you don't know

Wow, have I been reading a lot of nonfiction lately.

• 101 Smart Questions to Ask on Your Interview: This is a really excellent book if you didn't know what you were supposed to do in a job interview when they ask if you have any questions. There are so very many great questions to ask (and many not to ask). I can't wait to ask some of them (the ones you're supposed to ask, not the ones you're not), so I want to get another interview soon.  Preferably before I forget or finish this notebook.
• XML: My head hurts. I learned HTML coding the old school, HTML-editors-are-for-wusses way. In some ways, XML using an editor with pre-formatted tags should be easier, right? Now if I could just figure out what they mean when they say XML doesn't do anything, but it carries data. Carrying data is doing something, right? Wrong, apparently. I think I need to see it in action because the descriptions just don't make sense. (None of the eight I've looked at so far . . .)
• JavaScript: Same thing with JavaScript; I think I need to actually play with coding it myself, so I can understand it. I keep reminding myself that Flash was a total enigma, too, until I took a class and did it myself. It was very ugly at first, but I learned.  Eventually.

Any nonfiction you're slogging through to learn something from right now?

The Stainless Steel Rat and the Job Interview Adventure

So, I was really early for my interview.  At least, I would have been if the information the interviewer gave me had been correct.  Just pick up a parking sticker at the guardhouse on the way in, she said.  It's on my way; the streets are one way.  An extra 20 minutes should be more than sufficient, even if I have to park in the lot furthest from the building I need to get to.

At the guard shack, I see a note that tells me to go to the safety office to get my pass.  Where is the safety office?  I don't know.  I have no idea.  I am sure it isn't anywhere close to where I need to go because Murphy is a close friend of mine. 

Sure enough, it is not close.  I eventually find the building.  There are no parking spaces for visitors or anyone else.  I park illegally.  I can't find my hazard flashers.  I do not have time for this.

I enter the building and see that the security office is on the lower level.  There is a stairway right next to the sign.  I hoof down it to discover that I am in some sort of Twilight Zone cul-de-sac that has nothing to do with security.  I run back up the stairs.  I look vainly for any indication of how to get where I'm going.  I see nothing.

I enter the nearest office and look for a sign.  I find one.  Security Office this way.  I go this way.  There is no security office.  There are no stairs.  There is no elevator.  I pant.

I turn around and see another sign pointing in the opposite direction of the first.  This one, too, claims to be the security office.  I am doubtful, but I am also in a tearing hurry, so I try it.  Eventually, many signs and a scary stairway later, I arrive.

Security is very . . . relaxed.  They are not in a hurry at all.  They have no easy access to an exit.  I would not feel particularly trusting if I had to call them in case of an emergency.  Eventually, they are suspicious about why I need a parking pass, but even more eventually they believe me and fill one out.  At a some-might-say leisurely pace.  Slowly. 

I retrace my steps at a dead run.  It is still 80 degrees with 150% humidity.  I am wearing a black suit.  I am perspiring.  I am not sure I will be able to get back over to my building around all the one way streets and construction, so I park at the first space I find and limp/run, taking every shortcut I can, trying not to get hit by cars since the sidewalks are blocked off by construction.  I am carrying a ridiculously heavy attache with my portfolio and other professional looking stuff.  Students laugh at me as I pass.  I sweat at them.

I am two minutes late.  I am seriously sweating, and I can't take off my suit jacket because they will be able to see the sweat on my shirt, and this will not make them think I am professional.  Everything I've ever read has said that being late to an interview dooms your chances completely.  I am panting and convincing myself I am not asthmatic because my inhaler is in the car in my coat pocket probably melting in the heat.  I am most likely slightly wild-eyed at this point.  I find a stairway (lovely vaulting) and head up.

Sweat is dripping down my face, and I have no hand to wipe it with.  My hair is wild.  I see that I am on the far side of the building from where I need to be.  A very long, plushly carpeted hallway stretches out before me for a very long time.  Joy.  Then I see two people I recognize from my research into my interviewers, and my desperation is enough of a cue for them to identify me.

They ask, was the construction a problem?   I tell them, Honestly it was the running around trying to get a parking pass that was a problem.  They look at me blankly, and I explain.  They shake their heads, That's not what they told us, sorry for the confusion.  We head to a conference room.  It is closed.  When they get the key, we head in, and the room is not air-conditioned.  Alas.  Spring in the midwest. 

I am a sweaty, frazzled mess, and the interview hasn't even started. I am trying to be graceful as I push hair away from my face and try to wipe away beads of sweat as they fall.  I do not look professional.  I probably do not smell professional.  I am late.  I am doomed.


I remember this great scene in one of Harry Harrison's hilarious Stainless Steel Rat books (maybe Gets Drafted?) where the cheerfully anarchistic SSR explains how to beat a lie detector test: you work yourself up to a state of paranoia and doom before they start, and you let yourself calm down as they conduct the test.

Apparently, this works in job interviews, too because as the sweat dries and my body cools down into focused, serious discussion mode (wherein my limbs usually become freezing cold), things go fairly smoothly.  By the end of the interview, we are having a good time, and I look somewhat competent. 

One of the interviewers even gives me a ride to where my car is parked, and we talk a little more.  Apparently, she calls the next person I am interviewing with and recommends me favorably.

So that's why you should read science fiction.

:)

Composition arguments and teaching cynicism

I am having a cynical thought.  The shock!  Sorry for surprising you like that.  :)  I watched a training video at work where once again only evidence supporting the management's policy was shown, and the management openly concluded, "See, we were totally right!"  I thought back to some of the arguments swirling around college composition over the last decades and had to smile a bitter little smile.

I think maybe when I teach composition I won't use the reasoning, "We're teaching you how to make proper arguments, addressing both sides and proving your point, because you will surely need to exercise this skill set wherever your job takes you no matter what your job is!"  This is a lie.  A huge, huge lie.

However, I think it helps you to know how to make a good argument, so you can recognize a bad one your employer is making, so you can feel a little bit superior to those suits making tens of thousands more dollars than you from their corporate ivory towers . . .  Yes, a cynical moment.  Ahem. 

I am prepared for the smart aleck reply/question from a student challenging this belief about the benefits of composition classes in college.  It really is in your best interest to know how to spot a bad argument, not just for the feeling of intellectual superiority it gives you but also because bad arguments are everywhere.  People are constantly trying to persuade and convince you, and you need to know you need to know how to stand your ground and push back.  Unless you want to be swayed by the mindless beast of opinion, you need to know how to sift through what's being flung at you and arrive at an intelligent, reasoned decision. 

Your employers do not.  Your employers do not have to convince you.  You have to do what your employers say because they pay you, and unless it's morally objectionable (ASIDE: If I get stalked and killed, please sue my employer because it's their fault for making dumb and dangerous policies they don't have to carry out in the field), you have to bend to their arguments. 

But, no matter what, you have to keep thinking, or you'll be drowning in a sea of bad arguments you can't even see, suffocating for lack of reason both at work and outside of work.  I think it's better to see the world burning up around you than to be someone who blindly sprays gasoline around or throws more wood on the flames.  Maybe if you pay attention, you'll be able to help others around you by reminding them to stop, drop, and roll or stay low to get the better oxygen until you can find your way to fresh air again.


What explanations did your college composition teachers give you about the purpose of college comp?  Did anyone even ask about it in your class?  Have you ever thought about it?  What are your thoughts about composition's place in liberal arts education?