A Year in Review

I hate 2013. 

There, I said it. It's the end of the year and I'm not at all sorry to see it go. It's been the worst year of my life.

Let's look at my resolutions for the year, shall we? First up, finish my dissertation. Nope. Not even close on that one. Next up, find a job or post-doc. What is the point? I'm not even close to finishing, so why waste my time on the job search? Then there was the goal of reading 52 new books this year. Umm...I think I read ten or twelve. Maybe. I did read Pride and Prejudice twice (again). Reading for pleasure got preempted by the dissertation and stress and worrying over Dewey. Finally, there was the ever-lofty "take better care of myself" goal. Ha. I did yoga maybe twice this year, but I did lose thirty pounds. Then Dewey got sick and I ate my feelings the past three months because it was better than crying constantly, but I did that, too. I told you I was bad at resolutions. Maybe 2014 will be better resolution-wise.

I'm trying to pinpoint what exactly was so horrible about this year and I don't think it was any one thing necessarily, but a compilation of a whole lot of crap. 

Certainly, this wasn't a great year for teaching. Only teaching one class over the winter semester was terrible. It wrecked all the progress I'd made on my giant pile of grad school debt and seems to have cost me my best friend because I couldn't afford to go to her wedding in the Bahamas. We haven't talked since June and, before that, it was pretty strained, although I thought it was getting better. Then she didn't call or even text me for birthday, so I guess it was more strained than I realized. This semester was a really rough semester for teaching. I had one class that was great - good students (some not so good, too), good chemistry - and one class that started horribly, but picked up towards the end for some of the students. I just think 8:00 classes shouldn't exist. Trying to get this class to do their work, much less talk about it, was worse than pulling teeth. The number of students that failed the class is shocking, but it's impossible to pass them when they didn't do the three major assignments. Accepting that was difficult.

More difficult was losing three dogs this year. Winnie, technically my uncle's dog, but she grew up at my parents' house, with Dewey when they were puppies. She was Dewey's girlfriend and mother to the adorable duo of Princess and Tank. Then we lost Tank the day before my birthday. I thought that was horrendous, but I wasn't in any way, shape, or form prepared for what was to come - saying goodbye to Dewey. I dreaded it for years, since his first diagnosis with cancer, but November 25th was the worst day ever. Or maybe it was November 26th, when I woke up without him for the first time. 

I know he is not in pain anymore and that's what matters and I know that it gets easier over time, but living without him is hard. Every day there has been something that has reminded me of him, of how much my life revolved around him. It's been four weeks and there hasn't been a day that I haven't looked for him or called for him or wanted to hug him. I also realize I sound like a lunatic, but I'm hoping you won't judge. It was just me and him for a long time and those years were some of the toughest of my life.

Until this year. I can't wait to say goodbye and good riddance to this year.

The End of AcWriMo!

That's all, folks! How'd you do? Did you accomplish your goals? Create some habits to help you write all year long?

I hope you all had a better end to AcWriMo than I did. I think I wrote 500 words these past two weeks and most of that was last week, not this one. Life took over this week and nothing was done. 

Still, I learned a lot about what I need to do to finish the monster. I found out that planning exactly when and what I will write works for me, at least right now. A year ago, it didn't work so well, but more structure seems to help these days. I still need to work on making the writing a priority that doesn't get swept aside in the face of more immediate needs, like grading or emails or lessons.

Despite the fact that I only accomplished one of my goals - the introduction - I wrote more this month than I have in a long time and I feel like I'm in a good position for December and beyond, too. 

I'm going to count this as a success because I really, really need one right now.

Let's celebrate with a little Queen, shall we? 

The loneliness is palpable.

In an episode of Sex and the City, when discussing her lack of a boyfriend, Carrie Bradshaw told Charlotte, "The loneliness is palpable." That line always struck me as heartbreaking because, even at my lowest of lows, I've never really felt that way.

Until now. Now I know.

Thirteen years and almost three months ago, I fell in love at first sight. He was the absolute cutest puppy I'd ever seen. He loved me instantly, too. 

It was absolute chaos because there was something like three or four litters of puppies at once (I promise this was a very reputable breeder of champion show dogs, not a puppy mill!) and they were super excited to have two visitors - my mom and me. We were there to pick up the latest addition to my parents' gang of show dogs, back when they used to breed and show golden retrievers, too. My parents were excited because of the parentage of this puppy and because the breeder, a friend of theirs, said he was the best she'd seen since the puppy's father was showing and my parents loved the looks of his father.

I could have cared less about any of the show dog talk. I was there for the puppies. So. Many. Puppies. My mom hates driving in the mountains and didn't want to go almost to Pittsburgh alone, so I said I'd go. Puppies, after all, particularly golden retriever puppies, are irresistible.

When we first got to the kennel, the breeder showed us the puppy that was to be ours. He stacked (that's dorky dog show talk for how dogs are supposed to stand in the show ring) perfectly. Everything about him looked perfect and he was only six weeks old. I loved him right away.

In a room full of adorable golden retriever puppies, I sat down to play, to break up vicious puppy battles, to rub puppy bellies, to have my hair chewed on. Our puppy ran around the room twice, noticed me sitting down, ran full speed at me, and then slammed on the brakes, put his head on my foot, and fell asleep. Needless to say, I was hooked. This was supposed to be my dad's dog - he'd even picked out his name: Dewey - but my poor dad didn't stand a chance. 

Dewey and I were inseparable. No one existed outside of our happy little puppy cuddles bubble and that didn't change in the thirteen years we had together. Dewey lived with my parents and I visited him as much as possible, sometimes coming home every weekend just because I couldn't stand being away from him.

When I moved to Canada six years ago, he went with me. There was no way I could leave him behind and my parents finally caved to years of begging them to give me to him. I was so excited. He was so excited. 

Everything about Canada was an adventure for us. Neighborhood walks were new because my parents lived in the country with a giant backyard, so Dewey wasn't used to going for walks and I wasn't used to walking a dog all the time. I met so many people over the years because of Dewey. He was not afraid to walk up to anyone, convinced they absolutely wanted to pet him. He was so handsome, why wouldn't they? Dog parks were new to us, so was going for hikes or going swimming in lakes, his most favorite activities, second only to eating and sleeping. 

He quickly became a mascot of sorts for my grad student friends, who all loved him. Most of them found him just as hilarious and charming as I did. The first time I invited a friend to my apartment in Canada, Dewey was clearly put out because she was sitting in his spot on the sofa. After an hour or so, he was sick of sitting on the floor and started staring at her, not so subtly communicating he was unhappy with her being there. She thought he was so cute that she offered to sit on the floor! The first party I threw, another friend was sitting on the floor with a plate of food and Dewey sat next to her for quite some time, hoping to be fed. Eventually he gave up and just grabbed a quesadilla off her plate, which he scarfed down while remaining seated right next to her. He didn't even have the nerve to look guilty. Why should he? He loved when I had parties. The food was everywhere and no one could resist his face. The parties had a time limit, though, and, if he was up too long past his bedtime, he became visibly annoyed. He'd frequently climb up on the couch, bulldozing his way over people, lay down, and then slowly but steadily push them with his feet. It was his couch, after all. Friends would stay at my place because I lived very close to downtown. One friend in particular stayed more than anyone and when Dewey woke up in the morning, he would be delighted to find her sleeping on the couch...until he realized she was on his couch and not moving. He'd whine right by her face and whine and whine and whine. That's not a sound you want to hear first thing in the morning, especially when you're hungover. If she didn't make room for him in a satisfactory amount of time, he would jump over her, stomping ungracefully all over her, and lay down behind her. Like I said, it was his couch.

I struggled with depression in Canada. I still do, but he helped. There were too many days when I only got out of bed to feed and walk him. Even then, I couldn't wait to get back to bed. He would cuddle with me, as if he was just trying to make me feel better by sheer closeness. And he did. I slowly get better. I went to the doctor because of him. I went on an antidepressant and through counseling because of him. I couldn't stand to neglect him, so I got help for myself. I'm not exaggerating when I say he saved my life. I wouldn't have done any of that if I had been on my own.

He had many health scares over the years. I cut short a summer research trip in Scotland four years ago because he had to have some lumps removed. I didn't regret it for a minute, especially when the vet decided to remove all seven lumps and he was in so much pain. He was diagnosed with kidney disease three years ago and a thyroid condition last year. He had serious eye issues, like cataracts, glaucoma, and P.U.V. that started three or so years ago. Through it all, though, he was fine. I know that sounds crazy, but he was. We adjusted his diet, added some prescriptions and a lot of herbal supplements, and he was ok. He was happy. 

This summer he had this disgusting skin condition that, after months of vet visits and tests, turned out to be skin cancer, which is fairly aggressive and fast-moving in dogs. At his age, the treatment is as bad as the disease, so I promised to just keep him comfortable and happy as long as I could and then to let him go when I couldn't.

I thought I had months. I hoped for a year. In reality, by the time, he was diagnosed, I had less than two months. Two weeks ago I was hoping he would make it to Christmas. Last week I hoped for Thanksgiving. By Friday night, I was hoping he would make it to Tuesday, so I could get through my Monday classes and spend all day with him Tuesday before letting him go. It was clear that he was hanging on for me. It was also clear that he was barely hanging on. By Saturday, I was hoping he would go peacefully in his sleep. Sunday, I hoped I could get home from class Monday in time.

Monday, I can honestly say, was the worst day of my life. Saying goodbye was beyond painful. How do you say goodbye to a dog that is more than a dog? A dog that is your best friend? A dog that is your life? How do you walk out of the room, leaving him there? I still don't know how I walked away. I don't remember leaving the vet's office. I remember holding him and then I was home, sitting in my mom's car in the garage, trying to force myself to walk in the house, knowing that Dewey would not be there to greet me, that he will never be there to greet me again.

My parents still have three other dogs, including Dewey's daughter, who I adore and who worships me, but it is not the same. There is a giant presence missing. I am at a loss as to what to do. Before he was sick, my focus was on playing with him and cuddling with him and having fun with him. When he was sick, my focus was on keeping him comfortable and happy. Now what do I do? The house is so empty without him here. I am so empty without him here.

The loneliness really is palpable.

AcWriMo Week 4

It's week three! How are we doing?

What were your goals for this week? What did you achieve? What do you want to achieve for next week? How will you get there?

If, like me, you feel a little underwhelmed by your AcWriMo progress, remember the immortal words of Bob Marley:

"Get up, stand up! Don't give up the fight!"

AcWriMo Week 3

Ack! We're halfway through AcWriMo, but I'm not halfway through my goals. Where has the month gone?

Let's evaluate, shall we? For me, I think I'm going to stick with the detailed schedule. I've also found I really need to have my writing planned out ahead of time, preferably for a few days at a time (even better - for the week), not just the next day. That way I can visualize the impending disaster of not getting that day's writing done.

How was your week? How's the month going? What has worked for you? What hasn't? What are you thinking about changing?

AcWriMo Week 2

All apologies to everyone waiting to check in! I scheduled this post for the wrong date. Clearly the first week of AcWriMo took a toll on me!

How are things going for everyone? Did you meet your goals? Come across any stumbling blocks? Want to curl up in your bed like a little baby? No? That was just me?

Here's a general idea of what to discuss, if you need a reminder:

Last Week's Goal:
Last Week's Daily Goal (if you had one):
Plan of Attack (if you had one):
Achieved (ie did you meet your goals? Did your plan of attack work?):

This Week's Goal:
This Week's Daily Goal (if you have one):
This Week's Plan of Attack:

Stay tuned - I'll post my own meager accomplishments as soon as I figure out why my students can't see their exam grades. This is not my week for technology!

AcWriMo Week 1

Welcome, everyone! To kick off AcWriMo, we are going to keep this short and sweet. After all, we have writing to do. Don't forget to sign up on the AcWriMo spreadsheet!

Let's just start with a short introduction of who you are, your goal for the month, your weekly goal, your daily goal if you have one, and, again if you have one, what your plan of attack is to accomplish your goal.

I'll start us off. I'm a PhD candidate at the University of Guelph's Centre for Scottish Studies. I'm also an adjunct and struggle with balancing my teaching responsibilities and the need to finish my never-ending dissertation.

AcWriMo Goal: write the introduction and finish the second chapter of my dissertation.
Weekly Goal: 2100 words added to chapter two, outline introduction
Daily Goal: 300 words per day

Plan of Attack: I don't normally do this, but I created a very strict schedule this week because it's going to be a crazy grading week and my weekend is busy with family/friend time (for once!). I scheduled two hours of writing Friday, Monday, and Wednesday; one hour on Sunday; and three hours Tuesday and Thursday to make up for no time on Saturday and a short session on Sunday. For Friday, Sunday, and Monday, I plan on simply adding notes from three sources I haven't included yet. Also on Monday I will look at the other sources for the chapter to determine which ones I need to work with the rest of the week. I'm hoping that the detailed schedule I created will help me focus more and get distracted less. I also built in time for all those annoying things that pop up every day that drain my time and energy for writing, so I guess I'll see how this goes.

What about you? What are your goals, your plans? Are you going to be as tightly scheduled as I am or are you taking a looser approach?

AcWriMo Writing Group???

Many of you know November is AcWriMo. If not, you can read more about the details here, thanks to all the hard work of Charlotte Frost and others.

I volunteered to be an ambassador for it this year because I find I need to force myself to recommit to my writing and keep missing out on joining my regular online writing group. While I hoped to run an in-person writing group, no one at my school has committed to the idea yet and, well, the month starts Friday.

If anyone out there is interested in a month-long AcWriMo writing group, join me here every Friday in November for extra motivation. All you need to do is commit to a small goal, add it to the comments below, and join the larger AcWriMo movement by signing up on the AcWriMo spreadsheet. You can also join the conversation by following #AcWriMo on twitter. The tips and tricks are always very helpful!

If you're like me, saying you will commit to writing is easier said than done, so this time I'm making up a writing schedule for the month. By the end of the month, I plan on being a writing god. Join me?

Jorge Cham is a genius.

Sink or Swim*

I am a nag. Rather, I'm not normally a nag, but I turned into a nag this semester. My students do not have their shit together at all. They miss deadlines all the time (despite a rather steep daily late penalty), ignore instructions constantly, don't do the readings on anything near resembling a regular basis, they don't take notes in class when they even bother to come to class, and then they wonder why their grades are low. By low, I mean failing.

I don't mean all of my students, obviously, but I do mean a giant chunk of them - larger than any semester I've ever seen before. For instance, eleven students out of twenty-two in one class didn't turn in a primary source analysis. That's 50%! That is shocking! ELEVEN.

(Just saying "eleven" makes me laugh and reminds me of this wonderful skit.)

You're welcome.

This is the same syllabus I've used for two other semesters with the same assignment instructions, so I'm 99% sure there isn't a problem with the clarity of my instructions, given that this has never happened before. Four of those eleven students who did submit the essay wrote it about the wrong primary source, just completely and entirely used the wrong source. Two of those students used sources from the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. The class is a modern U.S. history class. I just. I can't.

Today alone I asked two students why they weren't taking notes and didn't even have a notebook out. I told three students not to put their heads down on the desk because it was class time, not nap time. I emailed a student to find out when or if she was planning on returning to class because she emailed me a week ago to tell me her grandfather was on his deathbed and she wouldn't be in class Friday and wondered if she could take the quiz Monday instead. I hadn't heard from her since, so I emailed her to make sure she was ok. She's fine, according to her email, just had a cold and so she hasn't come to class. No mention of her sick grandfather, who happens to be sick right before the second test of the semester. Did I mention her grandmother passed away last month, right before the first test of the semester? I also emailed two students whose group project is two days overdue.

I had a group discussion of FDR's Four Freedoms and Charles Wesley's response planned. I broke them into groups, told them to read the Wesley source, which was only 3/4 page long. And then I watched them. I watched them read the source and then sit there. Silent. For minutes and minutes and minutes after every group member was finished reading. This is week ten in the semester and the class is very used to group work and discussing and they generally do a good job of it. Today they were silent and I was fed up. After ten minutes of silence, I actually said, "Did you forget that you are meant to discuss the two sources with your group?" I gave good instructions about what to discuss; I'm just not sharing them here for the sake of brevity in an already long post. Some of the good students actually chuckled, like I'm hilarious, but they were silent, too. What the frick? After my sarcasm, they did discuss them together and I went around to each group and everything was fine, as was the eventual discussion with the whole class - better than fine, good actually, but the damage was done.

I came to the realization, as I sat there watching them not discussing the sources, that I'm putting too much effort into this. I'm enabling them even though that was not my intention and even though I'm trying to teach them responsibility. I'm not their mother. Why am I doing all of this? If they don't care AT ALL, why do I?

It's just...I hate to see students failing. I hate to see them slipping through the cracks, so I try to follow up with them when I see it happening, but now I am that professor who harps on her students to put their phones away (every freaking class with one student in particular), take notes, wake up, turn their assignments in, nag, nag, nag. I don't want to be that professor. I don't like that professor. No one likes that professor.

I can feel the students who do their work getting frustrated. They roll their eyes at students who claim they had no idea a quiz was today or their paper had to be uploaded to turnitin.com. They are fed up with those students and so am I.

Weeks ago, I warned that the reminders would end and that they were on their own and yet I've found myself slipping back into the same habit because so many of them are not doing the work or paying attention to the syllabus. My nagging ends today. I am burnt out. I have no more to give. I can't help students who don't help themselves and so I am done. I have done all that I can. I have done far more than some of the FT professors in my department would do and I am just an adjunct. So, I'm calling it. I'm done.

I'm choosing to focus on the students who do their work, who come to class, who make an effort. There will be no more tracking students down about their assignments. No more nagging. No more lectures about how to act as a college student. They've heard it from me at least twice before and I know they've heard it from other professors, too. They are on their own now.

Sink or swim, kids. Sink or swim.

*It was hard to come up with a title for this post. I originally called it "Stalking Students" because that's what I feel like I'm doing, but that's awful and I didn't want to seem to make light of dangerous situations.

Routines and Ruts

You know the kind of semester where you feel like you are constantly getting your ass kicked? The semester that is simultaneously flying by and the longest semester of your life?

That's my semester. I've had bad semesters before, but this one, well, it takes the cake.

I was supposed to finish my dissertation this semester. It's mid-October and I can't remember the last time I actually had a moment or took a moment to even open up a chapter file.

I can't get it together. I can't keep up with the work. This was supposed to be an easy semester. Two sections of the same class that I've taught before and don't really need to prep much. Except there is a lot of prep because the chair doesn't want us to lecture much and wants us to design all these fantastic lesson plans to really reach students on multiple levels that lectures just can't reach. I didn't lecture much to begin with because I prefer activities and discussions and blah, blah, blah, but when your students don't read, it's really hard to get any sort of discussion going because they don't have the basic knowledge required to participate in that discussion. When they don't read, it's really hard to have a successful activity of any sort because, for instance, they can't defend a side in a mock Scopes trial when they don't know who Scopes was and they can't lobby President Wilson for or against the Espionage Act when they don't know what the Espionage Act is or who Wilson is or that there was a giant freaking war of epic proportions taking place.

I can't get into a routine and I need one. It's mid-October and I am stuck in a rut of just barely getting grading finished in time or just barely writing that exam before class or just barely prepping before class or whatever. I am losing my mind.

I need a routine. I like a routine. I don't know how I lost my routine, but I did and I can't seem to get back to it. I miss my routine! I miss having free time. I miss reading blogs to relax or commiserate or just catch up with people that I've met along the way in a million different writing groups. I miss writing groups! I miss College Misery and Jane B and Historiann and Amstr and Bardiac and Notorious PhD and everyone else whose name I didn't mention because it's 12:30 in the morning and I still have 20 test essays left to grade and my brain is fried. FRIED.

Here's my promise to myself: tonight I finish those tests. Tomorrow I grade their multiple-choice (hurrah!) quizzes and fill out the evaluations for the football players and finish grading their blog posts, which I'm actually on top of, surprisingly. Then I get to take a nap and, when I'm all refreshed from a delightful nap cuddled up with Dewey, I'm going to sit down and work out a weekly schedule (including time for yoga and all the annoying little things that crop up and suck up so much time - I'm no fool). After that, I get wine. Lots of wine. And I get to catch up on some blogs. And I get to go to sleep as early as I want. I'd put my money on 8:30, if anyone was taking bets.

I will have my routine and I will stick to it or else this vein is really going to explode and I don't have health insurance (or Medicaid yet), so that would be a problem.

Ok. Back to grading. *sob*

Affordable Care for Adjuncts?

Today is the day. Today is the day Obamacare goes into effect. Today is the day Obamacare goes into effect and I get to fill out my application for Medicaid.

Medicaid? Yes, Medicaid. I don't make enough money as an adjunct to afford health insurance, even through Obamacare, so I have been told that I need to apply for Medicaid.

I came to this understanding at a meeting at my school that was supposed to explain the non-existent changes to the school's insurance plan and answer any questions any employees might have. The school's insurance agent was very nice, explaining that, because my school's insurance plan actually exceeds the platinum level of coverage in Obamacare, employees have nothing to worry about, although they could opt out and buy their own, lesser coverage, presumably to save themselves some money.

Here was my exact train of thought as I processed this information, "Better than the platinum level of coverage? That's amazing. Who on earth would choose to opt out of that?...Wait. No. What the hell? That is bullshit. Couldn't the school drop down a level of coverage and extend benefits to more of their employees? Or drop down a level of coverage and pay us a wage that gives us a fighting chance of being able to purchase insurance ourselves?"

That's the problem, of course. It's lovely that my school offers such a supposedly fantastic plan, but it does me no good. Obamacare does me no good, either, as much as I am a firm believer in the necessity of universal healthcare. It does me no good because I don't make enough to buy my own insurance. It does me no good - in fact, it hurts my situation - thanks to the stupid decision on the part of the IRS that says anyone teaching more than two college classes is a full-time employee and must be insured by the college, resulting, as expected, in adjuncts' class loads getting decimated, further affecting our ability to cobble together a living, let alone purchase health insurance.

On a side note, I would like to see whatever geniuses at the IRS who came up with that decision try to teach two classes and work on those classes less than forty hours a week.

Still, as I've read more and more about the #IamMargaretMary tragedy and watched the government shut down over Obamacare and I've read all of people's angry tweets and raging posts on Facebook - on both sides of the issue - I have been, aside from my initial blog post and tweets about Margaret Mary's death, relatively silent.

It's not that I'm not angry. I'm furious. Of course I'm furious. I'm also at a loss. I hear people saying all these dreadful things about poor people being too lazy to get a job or being happy to mooch off the system because they are all drug addicts or not spending their money on "the right things." I read posts with people joking that it's funny how people can't pay for their own health insurance, but they can pay for a smartphone.

Ha ha. Yes, that's hilarious. I have an iPhone, I confess. Shame on me. Show me a health insurance plan that costs the $35 per month that I pay for my data plan and I would gladly purchase it. But let's have it be a useful plan that doesn't require a $10,000 deductible and only lets me visit one doctor in the state, ok?

I hear these awful comments and I want to scream that I AM THAT POOR PERSON. I am the person who cannot afford health insurance, or rent, or my student loans, or a car payment. I live with my parents and have lived with my parents for sixteen months because of my financial situation. I'm trying to finish my dissertation and bartend during the summer tourist season to help make ends meet since what I make as an adjunct is laughable, but those ends don't meet.

Those ends never meet. How can they meet with $150,000 in student loans? How can they meet when I drive 45 minutes each way, three times a week, to teach and gas costs $3.40 per gallon? How can they meet when, every time I feel myself start to get on top of my bills, something always happen? My dog gets sick, or my car breaks down, or I get sick and am forced to go to the doctor to get a prescription, spending $300 just to get simple antibiotics after being sick for three straight weeks and not being able to take it anymore. Yes, I am that poor person who isn't spending their money on "the right things."

But let's do the math, shall we? Let's see just how much I make an hour teaching "part-time." Keeping in mind that the national average per class for adjuncts is somewhere around $5,000, I earn $2,100 per class. $2,100 over sixteen weeks of teaching - because no one preps for a class before the semester starts, right? - is $131.25 per week. Since I naturally don't work 40 hours per week because I don't have a "full" course load, let's say I work 25 hours a week (I can barely control the shaking rage I feel at the assumption I work so little as a professor, but, sure, let's go with it). $131.25 per week divided by the ridiculous assumption of a 25-hour work week means I get paid, drumroll, $5.25 per hour. That's $2.00 under my state's minimum wage requirements and, like I said, 25 hours per week is some sort of insane joke of an estimate. Just for fun, let's see how much I make assuming a 40-hour week. Again, $131.25 divided by 40 this time is...$3.28 per hour. $3.28 per hour to teach a college class.

How did I get here? I did all the things I was told would help me make a good life for myself. I work hard, I am educated - well-educated, possibly too well-educated. In other words, I bought into the myth of the American dream and yet, here I am, living with my parents and applying for Medicaid.

As I sit here filling out my Medicaid application and trying to choke down the humiliation of needing Medicaid, I am going to let that number run through my head as a constant reminder of why I am about to try to go on Medicaid.

Yes, I am that person who "mooches off the system." Wouldn't you? It's a system that pays me $3.28 per hour.

Will this be me?

There is a tremendous sense of outrage over the tragic death of Margaret Mary Vojtko. Perhaps it was her life, or at the least the last few years of it, that was more tragic than her death. I don't know. 

If you haven't read the article already, you should. Vojtko's death, in the most appalling way possible, highlights the effects of university administrators' willful disregard for the human beings they employ at pay levels per class that sometimes are less than or equal to what a work-study student can earn in a semester. Trying to earn a living as an adjunct is precarious, at best. Trying to earn a living as an adjunct in a country without universal health care is, obviously, worse. When you add to that an attempt at providing health care for everyone, but that attempt backfires as administrators prove they lack any milk of human kindness and cut adjuncts' class loads to avoid providing health care for those of us in the trenches, doing the majority of the teaching, teaching the classes full time faculty don't want, in the time frames they don't want, what you have is not a recipe for disaster. It is a guarantee of disaster.

The refusal of administrators to pay a living wage, to provide health insurance, to treat adjuncts as human beings deserve to be treated, will have lasting repercussions. I could go on and on about the unfairness of the situation to the students. Hell, I have. But you know what? There's been enough talk about the students. I don't care about students right now. For once, it's not about them. It's about me. It's about me and all the other adjuncts who, despite working tirelessly for wages that can do nothing but trap us into a cycle of what is basically mental torture when your insufficient income is unreliable, sporadic, and likely to change with the briefest of notice. It's about the desperation created by a system that will kick you out of the door after years of abuse and not even give thought to the destruction of your life and all that you have worked for, a destruction that they have helped cause. It's about the hope that this will end, that Vojtko's treatment - that the fact that she worked for a Catholic university for 25 years and yet was buried in a cardboard casket - will help bring an end to such a system.

Because you know what? Change the religious affiliation of the school and that could easily be me in the cardboard casket in forty years.

And That's What It's All About!

Don't be disappointed. This post isn't about the Hokey Pokey. It's about teaching. I can tell you're sad. Sorry to disappoint!

Anyway, I was on campus yesterday to pick up my printed syllabus because the print shop lady doesn't get to campus until 7:45 a.m. and I have an 8:00 a.m. class on Monday and am far too obsessive to even consider waiting until then to get pick up my syllabus. Anyway, I ran into a few of my former students, football players who were already on campus for practice, and they seemed genuinely excited to see me. We chatted for a bit about the upcoming semester and their season and it was nice. It's why I decided to go back after all.

Then today I checked my class rosters and noticed that one of my students in World Civ last year signed up for a class with me this semester. A repeater! My first repeater! How cool is that? I'm so excited! I can't wait to get back in the classroom!

It's happening all over again...maybe??

I got an email today asking me to teach at the same school again this fall. They offered me two sections of U.S. History again.

I'm conflicted. I didn't think I'd be willing to go back and I'm still not sure that it's a good idea because it's not very much money (I mean even lower than normal adjunct pay) and I may just be setting myself up for heartbreak all over again. On the other hand, I wouldn't have to revise anything unless I really, really wanted to, giving me time to finish the dissertation and keeping a foot in the door somewhere, since I've had absolutely no interest from any other schools I've applied to and the semester is rapidly approaching. It also means I could bartend or wait tables part-time, instead of the full-time option I'm staring down right now since no other teaching options are working for me.

I don't know. Any of you who so patiently listened to all of my whining (and celebrating, too) last year want to weigh in on this, keeping in mind that I've been trying for months and months (and months and months) to find alternate employment and keep getting rejected for being overqualified and underqualified, etc., etc., etc.?

Vive la France!

Oh, Paris. So much to say and I don't even know where to begin. Don't worry, you won't get all the details of my entire nine days there. I'll stick to the highlights, I promise!

First, the conference and the entire reason I was there: it was strange, but went well in the end. You know those conferences where it seems as if there are two groups attending - the grad students and the established academics? It was like that. Even at the banquet we had two "kiddie" tables of grad students and one prof at each of those tables. It was really hard to mingle the two groups together. Most of the profs kept to their group, unless they knew one of us grad students, at which point they might talk to us for a bit and then scurry back to their group. It was kind of strange. Some of the other students were saying that they felt really uncomfortable trying to approach the profs because, as always, grad students tend to feel like we have nothing to offer in establishing a relationship with a prof and that the prof is always thinking that we want something from them, when really, a lot of times, it's just a matter of hero worship, perhaps with a bit of wanting ideas from them, too. I'm (too) far enough along to let that bother/stop me anymore, but even I found it a little intimidating to try to talk to some of them because of this gaping divide between the groups.

I presented during the last panel on the last day, which is never ideal, but was fine. The question session for our panel got monopolized by an exchange between one of the panelists and an audience member, to the point where the moderator made the decision to end the session in order to stop the exchange from getting more heated. It wasn't terribly heated, but neither side was backing down and the moderator wanted to avoid a train wreck, basically, which was a good idea. That left me with no questions asked at all, so I really was clueless as to how my paper was received. They laughed at the funny bits I put in and clapped at the end, but was it the compulsory clap everyone dreads? I didn't know. It turned out not to be a compulsory clap, as I had four or five profs come up to immediately afterwards and tell me that they liked my paper, thought I had a great avenue for further research, suggested some secondary sources to help frame my work for the next step, etc. One prof, who I've known for a few years but have fallen out of touch with, even went so far as to say how impressed he was not just with the topic and the research, but with my delivery and that I really kept people's attention, even without a dreadful PowerPoint (the speaker after me had an impressive slideshow and I did not - not much to show, really, and I don't like pointless PowerPoints), and even made them laugh. A few of these profs are on the board of the JST, so now they know me and my work and I'm hoping that helps when they get my fellowship application next year. That was the whole point of going to this conference, after all.

So, the fun stuff: oh, the churches! And pastries! And wine! And food! I don't know where to begin, so I'll just show you some pictures.

Best meal (fondue and wine after the conference ended):

Favorite Versailles picture (that's right, I'm driving a golf cart around the grounds):

Favorite Louvre picture (I was more impressed with the architecture than some of the fan favorites because fighting the crowds to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and The Lacemaker - while worth it - was exhausting and annoying and I had to leave after only a few hours there or someone was going to get stabbed):

Favorite of-course-this-would-happen-to-me moment (getting stuck in a canal lock for 45 minutes while on a canal tour because someone cut a wire overnight and the lock was broken and a specialist had to be called to repair it WHILE we were in it):

Favorite church (oh man, this one is hard, but I'm going to go with St. Etienne du Mont partly because I had to work so hard to get in there as it had hours that conflicted with my schedule - the nerve!, though Sacre Coeur, St Paul et St Louis, St Pierre, and so many more make it really hard to chose):

Favorite random place we decided to visit (the police museum because it had a guillotine blade used during the Revolution):

Favorite attraction overall (again, this is tough, but I'm going with the Opera Garnier because the guided tour was fantastic, it is stunningly gorgeous, and, not least, I love the Phantom of the Opera)

Just look at the ceiling by Chagall! Parisians hated it at first, but I loved it. It's an ode to the glory and beauty of Paris and music and dance - how could you not love it? (The picture doesn't do it justice, so don't judge it by this!)

Did I mention I love the Phantom of the Opera? I really, really do.

Ok, that's it for now. I have a dissertation to write!

Absence, Illness, and Heartache

Some of you may be wondering where I've been lately; it's been a couple of weeks since I posted anything, after all. Some of you may be grateful for the quiet, though, in which case, please don't tell me!

To make a long story short, I've been sick with some sort of mystery illness that lasted about a month, but finally, finally. I'm pretty sure it was bronchitis, though I can't be certain because I don't have health insurance and can't go to the doctor or get a prescription unless I am near death. I felt sick enough for long enough, though, that I decided to skip DHSI in the interest of getting better and also not infecting everyone on my plane and at DHSI. You are welcome, people. It was miserable not going, since I've been looking forward to it for over a year and I kept thinking about how much money I lost because I can't get reimbursed for my travel award without a boarding pass. It was the right thing to do, but it sucked. Instead of getting my DH geek on, I slept for 16-20 hours every day for five days straight and followed along on twitter when I could stay awake. I know, I know. I should have gone to the doctor. I feel almost totally better now. Almost.

The dissertation is in bad shape, though, thanks to the mystery illness. I'm behind with one chapter and I have another one due at the end of the month. I basically need to finish two chapters in two weeks. That would be hilarious if it wasn't so awful.

Speaking of awful, the reason that I'm writing this at 5:00 a.m. is that the day I've dreaded for months now finally came and we had to say goodbye to Tank today. You might remember Tank's drama that I wrote about in March. I can't remember if I later wrote about how he actually had some sort of cancer in his bloodstream that attacks organs over time, but he did. For the past week or so, he stopped eating breakfast and eventually just picked at his dinner and acted very tired. We took him to the vet Monday, hoping it was just an infection, but knowing it wasn't. I had to take him to the vet because I was off, but my mom met me there because she's a control freak when it comes to the dogs. However, my dad's car was there, too, which immediately led to hysterics on my part (I'm not ashamed to admit it, I completely lost it) because I was afraid they wanted to put him to sleep right then and there, even though he was still happy, moving around, and eating. Fortunately, that didn't happen; the control freak just wanted my dad there in case it was necessary. The vet did warn us that it was only a matter of time and not much time at that. Wednesday we decided to put Tank to sleep Thursday night, but he didn't want to get out of my bed in the morning, even to go outside or to get a drink. He was in really rough shape, so I decided we should reschedule for as soon as possible, despite wanting to hold him and pet him and give him cuddles for as long as possible.

I really am glad he isn't suffering any more (I'm trying to be an adult about this!) and that I got to a point where I could admit it needed to happen, but today is my birthday and the only thing I want is a healthy Tank back and that just isn't going to happen. The worst is that his sister, Princess, starts wandering around the house, looking for him, every time she gets up and then she gets upset when she can't find him and then we all get upset all over again. I clearly do not do well with losing a pet.

Sleep well, my precious little Tank. I will love you and miss you forever and so will Princess.

Princess and Tank (right) hiding and cuddling under the kitchen table.

What a Year, eh?*

It's been a year since I left Canada and moved back to Delaware to live with my parents. I fled for a lot of reasons, but the big one was poverty and it caused most of the other problems. Paying tuition, rent, utilities, food, and all of Dewey's vet bills and prescription bills...it was all too much. My savings were gone (no surprise after five years of grad school), my funding ran out the year before, and I really just didn't see any way to survive on my own any more. I was at the end of my rope. I had no idea what I was going to do or how I was going to pay rent or buy food.

Over a year of this stress turned me into an emotional mess. I cried. A lot. I slept a lot. I curled up into a ball on the couch a lot. I felt as though I would not be able to handle any more problems that came my way. I was on the edge of a breakdown for a really long time. All of that added up to seemingly insurmountable writer's block, too, making the dissertation a frustrating reminder that, at 35, I am a failure both as a PhD student who can no longer write and as an adult who can not support herself and has to move back in with her parents.

This past year has been brutal, even with the help of my parents. They have been more than generous, helped out more than I ever wanted, and did all of this with a "we're so happy you're home" attitude that is truthful and meant to assuage my guilt but does not. I had to go back to waiting tables, working for the same company I worked for when I was sixteen. That was humiliating and yet here I am, working at the same place this summer because the money is too good to pass up. I found out more than I wanted about how precarious and soul-crushing life as an adjunct can be. I did not get to go to my best friend's wedding in the Bahamas, despite the fact that she's been my best friend for thirty years and she is more like a sister than a friend. I have basically spent the past year either at work or on my parents' couch, being unable to afford to do literally anything.

Still, I have had some successes. I presented at the MWCBS and the NACBS. The NACBS was a huge success, with a lot of networking and, more importantly, great feedback on my paper from scholars I really admire. I attended DHSI last summer and DHWI in January, thanks to scholarships and funding from my school. I taught two new classes and, despite some hiccups, really enjoyed the classes and my students, who mostly seemed to reciprocate, aside from a couple (one in particular) Negative Nellies. I'm going to DHSI next week, thanks to another scholarship, and in just over a month, I'm presenting at a Jacobite conference in Paris (again, thanks to funding). The NACBS, DHWI, DHSI, and the Paris conference have all been part of my master plan for years now and it feels amazing, if a little frightening, to actually see that plan become a reality.

The best part, though, is that my writing mojo is back. It's back! Not only am I writing, but my supervisor actually seems to like what I'm writing. He said it was "mature and authoritative," among other compliments that I can't actually remember right now. The pressure from my supervisor leaving for a new job in Scotland is immense and I do still panic that I won't get finished in time, but at least it is helping and not throwing me into a terrified, immobilized stupor, balled up on my couch, like I would have been in last year if this had happened.

The change in my mental state is something I did not expect. I am not expecting to collapse in a heaping puddle of tears at the slightest setback, offhand comment, or if I don't hear from a friend for a few days. I'm no longer terrified of failing, of disappointing my supervisor, my family, myself. Don't get me wrong - I still have a lot of self-doubt, but what grad student doesn't? From all the blogs I read, forget grad student, what academic doesn't? Still, I am recovering from financial disaster and I am writing. Both of those are things I would not have thought possible a year ago.

I owe all of this to my parents. Without them, none of this would have been possible. I doubt they know how grateful I am, unless they understood that all the cooking and baking I've done this year has been my way of thanking them. At least now they can read about how thankful I am.



*Despite my best efforts, "eh?" used to, and still does, pop into my conversations. What's that all aboot?

Je vais a Paris!

It's true. I'm going to the Paris conference in July and I couldn't be happier about it!

Despite my abject poverty and the pressure of finishing the dissertation, the conference was too good to pass up. The conference organizers are paying for grad students' hotel rooms and conferences fees, including lunches and the banquet. Evidently, my aunt and uncle didn't want me to miss this opportunity that I've talked about for, oh, four years, so they sent me a check that more than covers airfare. I tried to refuse (no, seriously, I really tried), but they were adamant, so...I'm going.

A friend I travel with a lot (or used to travel with a lot before poverty set in) is also going with me. We're staying a few days extra because I've never been to Paris and I don't know when I'll get back and I really want to see The Lady and the Unicorn tapestry and Abelard's grave and Sacre Couer and Notre Dame and all of the beautiful churches, really, and I want to wander around the streets, eating baguettes and cheese. Can you tell I'm excited? I can't wait!

The paper is already written, just needing a few revisions because it is similar to a paper I presented last year (the horror! but no one from that conference will be at this conference) and it's also part of a chapter that I've been working on, so it's in pretty good shape. If I stick to my schedule, I'll have three dissertation chapters written and two of them fully revised before Paris, assuaging some of my guilt about taking a break in the midst of heavy writing. So far, so good. More importantly, though, I already have heard from a few people expressing interesting in my new project. It's all starting to come together. Finally.

If anyone has any recommendations about where I need to go in Paris, I'd love to hear them. I especially like oddball places that not everyone knows.

Writing, Writing, and More Writing

It seems as though I am making decent progress on the chapter revisions, which were not too many to begin with, thankfully. The Montgomery Plot is kicking my butt, though, and making me not like it. It just won't fit into my chapter nicely, but it has to and so I've sat here for hours, struggling with it, trying to get it to play nicely because tomorrow is the deadline for these revisions and I can't afford to take longer on this chapter right now.

It doesn't help that I'm stressing about this because I have plans for tonight (for once!) and those plans start in roughly two hours and I still need to shower and get dressed and pack for the night. Perhaps a break to shower and pack will clear my head and I will come back and kick the Montgomery Plot's butt. Whining just a little bit about it has already helped, so did signing up for JaneB's writing group, which leads me to the entire point of this post...

As a reminder, Jane B is hosting the Top Left Quadrant writing group for the summer. Don't forget to sign up if you're interested. It starts this weekend!

That's the end?

My semester of teaching is over and I'm...underwhelmed? It's not like I was expecting a party at the end of the semester, but a "goodbye" email from the chair would have been nice. I don't even need a "thank you," just some recognition that I was there and now I won't be would have been nice. Heck, even just the letter of reference he promised would have been fantastic. Instead, I had to email him to remind him about the letter and to let him know that I'd arrange with a prof teaching summer classes to drop my keys off to her one day this week, since no one was there to give my keys to Friday. What an end.

It would be different if I was a large school and just a face in the crowd. The department has three full-time professors and four adjuncts, one of whom is supposed to be a full-time professor in the fall, if everything works as promised. So...really? Nothing at all? I must expect to much. Courtesy. Courtesy is too much.

On the bright side, my students sound like they will miss me. Before the final, I was trying one more time to convince a student to at least do a minor in history because he was very engaged and able to grasp the larger concepts of what I was teaching. After he asked what classes I'd be teaching in the fall so he could sign up for one and I said I wouldn't be here, he said, "Oh. Well, never mind. I don't really like history. It's boring, but your class was different. You made it different." He then went on to tell me how he dropped a Western Civ class with the chair because it was so boring. That's not information I wanted. I recommended two other profs and he said he'll think about it. The same thing happened at the end of the final when a student I felt certain hated me all semester asked what classes I'm teaching in the fall and I had to again explain that I'm an adjunct and the school isn't bringing me back because of "enrolment." I managed not to roll my eyes or use air quotes when I said that, too, so I was a little proud of that. She was disappointed, though - genuinely so - because she wanted to take another class with me, she'd enjoyed it so much. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I really thought she hated me. Evidently not.

At least it was a great end to the class, if not to my time at the school itself. And now I promise to be done whining about this school. That's over, too.

Going, going....

My advisor is leaving my school. In three months.

I think I'm traumatized.

A Sphincter Says What?

I typed up my student evaluations from last semester because, well, I'm an adjunct and no one in the department cared enough to have it done for me. These evaluations were done by the department itself, in addition and separate from the college evaluations that are online. All the history department asked was what students liked best and least about the class. Typing them up myself was its own particular kind of torture, not just having to read the comments that I can't respond to but also having a very good idea of who wrote what because I still remember most of their handwriting styles.

I decided to take to Twitter and tweet some of the gems (those that made me feel all warm inside *and* those that were particularly heinous), as a way to help me process the comments. When I came across a comment that said "I didn't like how early the class was," I tweeted that quote with my response at the end: Then don't sign up for an 8:00 class. It got some laughs and retweets. It also helped me not get angry at the student, who I in no way forced to take an 8:00 class when I am anything but a morning person and was certainly not thrilled at having to be there at 8:00 myself. I have a 45 minute drive in the morning. They have to walk across a street. (See? This is the downfall of seeing the handwriting, knowing who wrote the evaluation, and remembering all the things they told you throughout the semester.)

The tweet that got the most response, however, was this one:


"I liked how the teacher lectured, but you had to study. Most teachers make PowerPoints that give all the information and you don't do anything on your own."

When I first read it, I was stunned, hence the Wayne's World reference. You can get through college-level classes without studying? Professors just want you to regurgitate what they tell you? Call me naive, but that's horrendous. I almost didn't tweet it. I was so taken aback that I thought it had to be a one-off. But it wasn't. There were a few more comments in a similar vein, so I tweeted it and my response, which was "I don't know what to say about that last tweet eval. I feel sorry for those students who are taught to be robots."

Apparently, a lot of people agreed to me because there was a flurry of retweets, favorites, and replies with some very good points made. What happened to critical thinking? What happened to independent learning and studying and thinking for yourself? Is it wrong to expect students to study in college?

It is very easy to criticize students for not understanding what it takes to succeed in college, that they are largely responsible for their own success, that grades reflect performance, not effort. After all, how many times have we told students they don't get an A because they do the work, they get an A because their work meets a certain standard? 

But are we complicit in their misunderstanding? Evidently, some of us are. In this age of the assault on higher education, this is not how we should represent ourselves if we expect society at large to believe our protests that higher education is important and relevant and vital. If we don't make the effort to teach as well as we can, why should we expect students to make the effort to learn as well as they can?

I say this fully aware of the all of the changes taking place in higher education right now, fully aware of all of the other demands on academics that can push teaching to the back burner, and fully aware of the adjunct situation, since I've lived it for the past year. I say this as someone who tried to write her dissertation while teaching four new classes.

Do I regret spending what a lot of people would consider too much time on teaching? No. I really don't.  I just graded a student's final exam and the grade was more than double what they earned on the first test of the semester. The student obviously learned something this semester and it wasn't just modern U.S. history. They learned how to read for comprehension, how to study, how to think critically. How do I know this? I worked with that student quite a bit. I can see the change. That's why I don't regret it. Whether the student realizes it or not, I made a difference and that's enough for me. Well, that and evaluation comments like these:

"I liked the fact that this course taught things that weren't common knowledge. I deeply enjoyed my learning experience."

"I liked that we learned many things that could possibly change our views."

"I thought history was boring until I actually got engaged with it."

I might not have been at this school for long, but I can leave without regret, knowing that I did the best I could and that the school is losing an asset, someone who cares about their students, not someone who throws up a PowerPoint slide and tells their class to just copy it down. I care and I can make a difference. That's the point of being an educator.

Writing Group Week 16 - That's All We Wrote!

Well, well, well. We survived another writing group. Did you meet your main goal? Did you meet last week's goal?

Before we get to that, this is just a reminder that the next writing group is being hosted by Dame Eleanor Hull over at her place. The group she is hosting will be significantly different than this one, with DEH asking that participants focus on one piece of writing. Her group will provide a place for "public accountability and acknowledgment of interim goals met." JaneB has offered to host a kind of tandem writing group where participants can discuss more general goals, work process, OBW(hatever), etc., similar to what has happened in this particular writing group.

When I offered to host this group, I thought that there were enough of us ABDs or ECRs in the previous groups that it might be beneficial to have someone coming from that perspective co-hosting, particularly because my co-host is mid-career and could provide a counterpoint on behalf of those of you who are not ABD/ECR. I also, perhaps naively, hoped that as someone who struggles with the writing process (which is new for me because I never struggled as an undergrad, during my M.A., or during the first two years of my PhD) and, therefore, reads a lot about that topic, I might be able to provide some helpful new ideas or reminders of old tricks to those of you further in your career who might be stuck in a writing rut. Sometimes a change in perspective can get you out of a rut, after all. Certainly, when I could only offer questions, not solutions, others in the group did; however, if anyone feels as if they did not get anything useful from this group because of my particular perspective, I apologize.

Writing groups are what the participants make them and I, for one, am grateful for the increased sense of community I gained from this particular group. I could write it off as saying I've been feeling particularly isolated this semester with no real, physical academic community right now, but I think academia can be a lonely place, as a lot of you have said or shown in these groups and on your blogs. As I said over at JaneB's, I really felt as if you all acted as a support system for me and cheering me on through my successes and my struggles and I hope you felt the same from me/us in return, if that's what you wanted from the group. I could not have handled the stresses of the semester - writing, teaching, and personal, a lot of which didn't even get mentioned in the group, if you can believe that - without the support from all of you, so thank you all.

Enough of that. Let's celebrate the end of this group and all that we've done. Here it is - the final roll call (original 15 week goals included - sorry if you changed yours and this isn't up-to-date):

Amanda@ladyscientist: no check-in
15 Week Goal: completely finish two fellowship apps, get halfway through a third, turn my dissertation intro into a minireview, write my final section of TheReviewThatNeverEnds, and any other small writing projects that come my way

Amstr (writing account): 1) write 1500 words (or more!!), 2) read 3 articles, 3) notes on 5 articles (or more), 4) make office functional and call electrician to put in safe outlets.
15 Week Goal: finally finish the darn dissertation!

Bardiac: no check-in
15 Week Goal: working on a paper for the Shakespeare association, and also working on moving a paper from conference to publishable

Contigent Cassandra: finish & give lecture; continue grading; regroup/plan final push on chapter (including, if necessary, asking for a 1-2 week extension well in advance of the May 1 deadline. That's more professional, right?)
15 Week Goal: complete a chapter for an "approaches to teaching" volume (we'll call this the T chapter), due 5/1, and to keep up with freelance assignments. If I have any additional time, I'd also like to finish the J article that I was trying to finish last fall, and make some sort of progress on the P project, but, based on past experience, that seems unlikely

Dame Eleanor Hull: polish 1000 lines of translation and send it to my team. Review the companion-piece against the journal's style sheet and send it. Allow self 15 minutes a day with MMP-1.
15 Week Goal: finishing and submitting the MMP is my main goal, and if I finish it before the end of the group I hope I can declare a new goal.

Danne: 1) write first thing in the morning and 2) work on my PhD for at least three hours a day
15 Week Goal: read and take daily notes of my reflections and the progress I'm making. I want to work at least 3 hours a day, 6 days a week on my thesis

Elizabeth Anne Mitchell: no check-in
15 Week Goal: finish up article O, which I researched and got close to completion in the last group, for submission. I then have article O prime, the offshoot from article O to flesh out, complete and submit

Good Enough Woman: Spend a hour each M and W mornings reading secondary text, order two books from ILL.
15 Week Goal: "Finish draft of Chapter 5, Draft Chapter 3, Revise article"

heu mihi: Do what's on the to-do list. Finish the sucker, really.
15 Week Goal: get a workable draft of the article finished by the end of April. What I'd like to do is write 5 hours a week, plus fit in some reading time as needed

humming42: 15 minutes a day.
15 Week Goal: work on the reconfigured book project, which now includes some incremental steps like drafting a survey, getting IRB approval, and applying for a travel grant

Jane B: a) outline the results and discussion sections for the Paper That Wants To Be Written, and b) spend time with the Stupid MSc Paper - let's say three lots of ten minutes, as a goal.
15 Week Goal: make measureable progress' - I want to be able to report actual numbers in terms of papers moved from one key developmental stage to the next

Jason: no check-in
15 Week Goal: I need Chap. 4 & Chap. 1 drafts. Ideally, the Chap. 4 draft will come together in the next few weeks (sent to advisor by end of Feb.)

Jodi: Seriously finish the chapter because this is ridiculous.
15 Week Goal: 1000-1500 words/wk

kiwi2: Again, read and take notes on two papers a day for my exotic synthesis. Also write 500 words this week, to start putting some ideas together.
15 Week Goal: "conference talk to give in two weeks and have a big pile of analysis to do for this over the next week- hence, my first goal, is - do this. All week.
2)Paper X from the previous writing group needs reanalysis of one section (arggh), and general rewriting. Its a collaborative effort, and I am anticipating writing will drag on for some time although I would like to submit, like, immediately.
3)Paper Z, I want to finish the analysis of one dataset, and the writing of these results (probably two paragraphs max.). I am half way through this, and would like to just get it done.
4) There are other projects too that I want to get done, but I will focus on the above first, and then concentrate on two hours of writing a day. I think if I can achieve this, the other pieces of research will also fall into place"

kiwimedievalist/zcat_abroad: no check-in
15 Week Goal: 6000-word article due on the 1st of April, of which I have done a fair bit of research (much of it spinning out of my PhD thesis (aka dissertation), and about 2500 words written and bits(?) of a novel if possible)

luolin88: 30 minutes on Tuesday and Thursday
15 Week Goal: write and submit an article

Matilda: revise my plan for a new paper.
15 Week Goal: 1. Finish an article A. 2. Finish an article B. 3. 15-minute writing every day

meansomething: no check-in because of travel
15 Week Goal: continue to devote time each week to poems (drafting new ones while continuing to revise the sequence); to find a publisher for my second book ms.; and to experiment with breaking out some pieces of the lyric essay draft, possibly as shorter pieces on their own

metheist: incorporate the new ideas about gesture into my chapter.
15 Week Goal: finish chapter 4, write my introduction, edit, and defend. Also, I want to work more on embracing the present, not obsessing on the past or worrying about the future.

nwgirl: no check-in
15 Week Goal: Finish revisions of two chapters

Pilgrim/Heretic: no check-in
15 Week Goal: write 21,000 words by April 26

profacero (Z): finish and submit both abstracts
15 Week Goal: to reserve time daily, 25 minutes if that is all there is but ideally 2.5 hours. That is it, 25 minutes to 2.5 hours, 7 days a week, no vacation ever (on vacation, 25 minutes), and ideally closer to 2.5 hours most days

Susan: no check-in
15 Week Goal: first, a plenary talk at a major conference outside my discipline in late March, and second, a draft of a piece for one of the "companion" volumes that speaks to some of the conceptual issues of the book project

tracynicolrose: Finalize Frameworks for presentation; tackle citations in BE; continue with new MS matrices
15 Week Goal: work on 3 new papers this semester: BE paper, Methods paper, and HT paper. My aim is to get a decent draft completed on all three so I can submit over the summer

Zabeel: revisit article and make plan of future work
15 Week Goal: to get the book manuscript finished and submitted to press (finish final 2 chapters and conclusion; edit all for consistency; incorporate comments as they come in). I'd also like to finish converting a conference paper based on a new topic into an article

Got FOMO?

This is my life. There is no escaping FOMO for me. Either I am the one with FOMO, constantly checking emails, Twitter, and Facebook, not to mention texts, or someone I am with someone who has FOMO and is annoying me.

I'm pretty good about ignoring my phone when I'm hanging out with people because it infuriates me when people ignore me for their phone.* My best friend, on the other hand, is terrible. He is constantly texting - even while driving, making me yell at him - or checking email or Facebook and it drives me nuts. We can be out to dinner or having drinks or just watching tv and he is constantly on his phone.

Why can't people enjoy the people who are actually making an effort to spend real time with them, rather than focusing on what other people, who aren't with them, are doing? Whatever happened to enjoying the moment?



*Seriously. I really do make an effort. Avoiding work is one thing, but I think it's terribly rude to ignore people you are with and I just don't do it (much).

Enough is Enough is Enough

Have you heard the latest rape news? It happened in Canada, so you may not have, but here's a link to the story of Rehtaeh Parsons, a 17 year-old girl whose family just took her off life support three days after she hanged herself.

Why did she hang herself? Well, year and a half ago, four boys thought it would be awesome to rape her, DOCUMENTING THEIR ACTIONS BY TAKING PICTURES OF THE FUN TIME and then, because that wasn't hilarious enough, what did they do? You guessed it. They shared those pictures with everyone in school and their town.

Does this sound familiar? Nauseating shades of Steubenville, perhaps?

Parsons tried to hide what happened from her family until she could no longer handle the pressure and abuse from the community. Because, you know, it was clearly ONE girl's fault that she was raped by FOUR boys.

I will never understand what makes people think it's ok to rape and think it's ok, no - hilarious, to brag about rape. I will never understand what makes people think it's ok to blame the victim of a horrible crime that didn't end with the rape (it never does), but continued up to and including the time she hanged herself because of the torment she faced and the humiliation she dealt with every single day?

Despite the physical proof that she was raped, everyone in the town saw the pictures, after all, the RCMP didn't have enough evidence. They couldn't be bothered to even interview the "alleged" perpetrators right away. The mother was told that, regardless of the rape, there wasn't really a crime because the distribution of child pornography, which is what it's called when a 15 year-old girl is involved, was somehow not a crime, but a "community issue."

They are, in a strange way, right. That it was acceptable to the community that this happened is a "community issue." That it was ok for her mortification to be increased exponentially by the sharing of those photos and by the sick, twisted reaction to those photos is a "community issue." That it is ok for four boys to rape a girl is a "community issue." How they responded to that crime is a "community issue." When things will change is also a "community issue" - a world community issue. How many times do we have to hear about these rapes, these shamings, these blamings of the victim? When will that change come?

Shame on the community. Shame on the RCMP. They are just as culpable in this girl's suicide. I hope every single one of them who knew about the crime but didn't investigate or didn't take it seriously is haunted by her suicide for the rest of their lives. It is the least they deserve.

Week 14: Rounding Third

Forgive the baseball analogy, but it's that time of year and not a minute too soon. Go Yankees!

Now that that's out of the way, in all seriousness, we are quickly coming to the end of this writing group. (Fortunately, Dame Eleanor Hull has offered to host the next incarnation of the group for those of us who need/want it.) Is anyone exhausted by the semester? Is anyone exhausted by trying to squeeze in the all-precious writing that we swore to protect at all costs, but perhaps we were not as vigilant as we could have been or the universe thought we were hilarious with such a vow and decided to prove just how wrong we could be? Yeah, that's me.

I struggled to even come up with a topic for the week because I am just so tired, but then I remembered a post by Kathy Steffen I read a few months ago about getting your writing back on track and one of my favorite tips was "Print out motivation quotes or writing affirmations and tape them to your computer so you will see inspirational words every day." This writing group, for me at least, is all about inspiration. I do, however, have a secret love, the best writing coach ever, that I thought I would share. Some of you may know him from the tv show Friday Night Lights, but some of you may not because you do not have the television interests of a fifteen year old girl. Meet Academic Coach Taylor. He can be hardcore, but it's all out of love. My laptop, iPhone, and desk are all littered with ACT pics.

He speaks the truth.

He can be a sweetie.

He can be...less sweet.

He can also be an enforcer when he needs to be (or when you need him to be).

Those are just a few of my favorites, but Academic Coach Taylor has loads more to say. Feel free to share anything you find particularly inspiring, but, otherwise, let's keep writing! We're almost there!

Quick Tank update for those of you asking - he had his stitches out yesterday, despite an obscene amount of whining and hysterics about going back to the vet (not uncalled for in his case, but still!) and then the precious boy actually gave the vet tech kisses while she was removing his stitches. So upset and still so loveable! Anyway, he's fine and here's a picture of the little muffin his first night home after the surgery. He looks absolutely thrilled to have to wear that cone, doesn't he? He's not the only one to be glad he's done with the cone.

Roll call!


Amanda@ladyscientist: Finish fellowship application.

Amstr (writing account): re-park diss. downhill.

Bardiac: no check-in

Contigent Cassandra: make continued progress on writing and/or research, alternating back and forth as necessary (and switching off with preparation for the mid-April lecture). get the tax tasks completed well before April 15th.

Dame Eleanor Hull: submit final draft of companion-piece. Continue at least one hour of research a day, 3 lines of transcription and 50 of translation. Return to MMP-1 and write another 2-3 paragraphs.

Danne: no check-in

Elizabeth Anne Mitchell: Begin the survey question creation for article B.

Good Enough Woman: Write conference proposal on new shiny topic.

heu mihi: Read through Kzoo draft; fix what's easy; list what needs doing.

humming42: submit May abstract, touch manuscript every day

Jane B: a) continue to do something research-like first every day, b) write up what I've done so far with the simulations, outline what the next step is (I am embarrassingly bad at parking computer stuff on a downhill slope) and outline the paper they're going to turn into and c) finish the damn draft of the wretched paper with the MSc student.

Jason: no check-in

Jodi: Write a ton Monday and Tuesday. Hopefully finish the revised first chapter by Wednesday. Grade exams by Friday.

kiwi2: Final draft of grant proposal, one pager and summary. Send paper X to collaborator B. Start gathering data files for next paper all in one place. I am also involved in a conference this week, giving a paper and chairing, so the last goal could be over ambitious.

kiwimedievalist/zcat_abroad: no check-in

luolin88: Complete the requested revisions for the article. Time: 30 mins TWTh and 1hour Friday.

Matilda: revision of my paper

meansomething:  1) 5 12-minute sessions; 2) 1 ms. submission; 3) 1 mag submission

metheist: T/R 7hrs and MWF 1-2hrs

nwgirl: no check-in

Pilgrim/Heretic: LOOK at the damned thing at least 5 minutes per day, even if I don't write anything

profacero (Z): Spanish version of abstract, write and send.

Susan: Catch up with teaching.

tracynicolrose: Finish drafting Frameworks presentation; draft BE discussion

Zabeel:  well, Finish paper.

Aca-what???

Yesterday Inside Higher Ed posted two pieces particularly relevant to my life right now. The first was on counting adjunct hours for the Affordable Care Act; the other was on the unethical treatment of adjuncts. So much to say. So much anger.

When I originally was told that I "most likely" wouldn't get classes next fall because of enrolment concerns, I believed it. A few people suggested it might be because of ACA, but I defended "my" school, thinking they wouldn't do something like that. They're a religious school, after all, and surely have more humanity than that. I kept believing it right up until I noticed that the emails making the rounds to faculty and staff kept mentioning how excited the administration is that the number of inquiries and applications for next year were actually UP. In no less than seven emails, we were all told numbers were up and enrolment projections were actually higher than the last two years. I realize that's just projected numbers, but ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

I did some more digging and found out that nearly all the adjuncts were getting reduced hours this semester and told they "most likely" wouldn't be back in the fall "because of enrolment concerns." I couldn't find anyone who knew of a single adjunct who was told otherwise. I also couldn't find another faculty member, adjunct or full-time or staff from the financial office, who had heard that numbers were not actually expected to increase.

So. I admit I was wrong. I will admit that my school and its administration lack all milk of human kindness. The administration is just a money-hungry and blood-sucking as everywhere else and that makes me really sad. I'm not sad just for me. Would I have liked to stay there, with a job I like near my friends and family? Absolutely. I'm more sad for the students, though, and the effect this has on them, on their eduction, for which they are paying a lot of money, probably more than they should, but that's another matter entirely.

As for the second article...argh. I just can't. Let's compare the issues in the article to my current adjunct experience, shall we?

1) "no job security or expectation of employment beyond the current term" - CHECK

2) no benefits and low compensation - CHECK (please, $2,700 is a dream compared to what I earn)

3) ineligible for unemployment benefits - CHECK

4) don't receive orientation, mentoring, and are excluded from faculty meetings - CHECK, CHECK, CHECK

5) not involved in curriculum design - CHECK  (in fact, I barely have control over my class syllabus since the former chair criticized me because my U.S. History survey class covers up to Watergate - the other profs don't get past Vietnam and only spend one day on Vietnam, so I felt pretty happy that I got further than profs who taught the class on a regular basis and it was my first time, but she wanted me to spend all my time on the 20th century and get to World War I in three weeks - three weeks to cover Reconstruction, the American West, railroads, industrialization, and the Progressives. Unbelievable. Fortunately, the current chair told me to ignore her and approved my syllabus. Three weeks!)

6) lack of office space - I'm ok on that, actually, mercifully, although plans were in the works to kick me out of my office for 3 hours each on MW this semester because the former chair wanted an undergrad who would be working for the department to have office space. The undergrad was supposed to get my office on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I was told specifically not to come to campus on those days because those would be her days in the office, but then that meant that Mondays and Wednesdays should have been my days, following that logic, except that I was also getting kicked out for three hours on those days in favor of the undergrad. This was particularly problematic since I carpool with my dad and would then have nowhere to go for three hours. Trust me, the library is not an option because it is very, very tiny and does not have a lot of work space. Fortunately, none of this happened.)

7) hiring decisions made at the last minute, often days before classes start - CHECK (I got hired three weeks before classes started to teach two classes I'd never taught before, one of which was not the class I'd applied for originally. I was told this semester that I would find out if my 8 week class would go ahead the day that it was supposed to start. Would you prep a class you might not get paid for? Is it better to prep at the very, very last minute? What a nightmare.)

8) inadequate materials and resources - CHECK (at the end of last semester I found out there was an online instructor resource with all kinds of maps and activities - don't get me started on how much time I spent searching for decent maps - that was upsetting to say the least, but at least I am free to make as many photocopies as I want)

I could go on and on (and I have), but I am fed up. I'm pissed. I've only been an adjunct for a year, although I was aware of the adjunct nightmare for much longer, but how long will this go on? How can institutions treat the ones in the trenches, doing the majority of the teaching that tenured profs don't want to do, like crap? We don't make enough money to support any life, especially not a life with a family or massive, crushing student loan debt, or both. It enrages me that we are treated as expendable and worthless. How is this sustainable, not just for adjuncts, but for students and institutions? It will not succeed. Students will not succeed. Institutions will not succeed. This country will not succeed.

Ok, rant over. For now. (And apologies for some of the nonsensical ramblings. I write much better than this normally, but I am too upset and needed to get it all down.)

P.S. I'm switching the title of this blog back to its original title, "Acaderanged," because it sounds better than "Acabullshit," which is closer to my present feelings about academia right now.