Category Archives: Running

Failure? China. Appointment.

Posted on 9 October 2010 | 3 comments

Epic fail: I am so bad at this full-time job thing. I don’t like it. I like having lots of time to myself. Being around people wears me down. Groups of people wear me down more. Warring factions about put me over the edge. Having a meeting every time I turn around is even worse. I love the students. I love my subject area. I love teaching. But I hate this job.I know I have to have a full-time job, and there isn’t one I’d rather have than this one. But, I really want to just live instead of working and somewhat living.

*

I think I made either the best or worst educational move of my entire life. In my 10th grade English class, we have been reading Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “Self-Reliance” and Henry David Thoreau’s “Civil-Disobedience.” Naturally when Liu Xiaobo won the Nobel Peace Prize, I seized the opportunity to discuss his act of civil disobedience with my students. I have a Chinese exchange student in my class, so I figured she’d be able to help us understand the whole thing a bit more. Maybe she could even help to explain why China is so upset about his win. I showed these two videos:

But first, we read this article from the BBC. We also discussed some of the comments following the article.

About half-way through the first clip, I looked over at Nancy (my Chinese student) and noticed that she was looking frantically through her computer. She was frowning and looked mostly confused. When the videos were over, I asked the students to discuss two things in their groups: (1) Why were the Chinese so upset that Liu won the award? and (2) How was Liu exercising some of the ideas from Emerson and Thoreau’s writings? One of my other students also wanted to discuss why it is that American and British media always end up making other countries look barbaric in the news. I set my students loose in pairs and groups to discuss these three things.

I noticed that Nancy was still looking through her computer and that she hadn’t joined a group for the discussion, so I went over to her desk to discuss with her. When I approached her desk, I never in a million years, could have predicted what she would ask me. She looked up at me and said, “What happened at Tienanmen Square? What happened in 1989? I have never heard of this that we watched.” I am sure my mouth gaped a bit, but it was more at my own stupidity. Of course, with Internet censorship, she had never heard of the protest and civilian slaughter at Tienanmen Square. Why would she have heard of it? The military won, the people succumbed, and things went on as usual.

To discuss the event would mean to have to explain that they do, in fact, want their citizens to conform to a certain way of thinking. And, to discuss the event would mean owning that they killed a few hundred unarmed protesters. It would be like honestly discussing what happened to the homeless in New York or who gave the orders for the National Guard/ROTC to start shooting at Kent State.What’s even stranger about the whole situation is that even after Liu won the Nobel Prize, when Nancy tried to search for him on Chinese websites, all she could find was that he was a political prisoner. Maybe then it would be a bit more like doing a search for Mumia or Leonard Peltier and only being able to find what the government thinks of them, not what their supporters think of them.

So, I’ve either given a young woman a reason to question authority, or I’ve given her government a reason to be suspect of her. Either way, I hope she continues to ask questions about this, because it’s an important moment in history.

*

On Monday, I finally have an appointment to see a doctor at Central Indiana Orthopedics. Hopefully, he can help me get this ankle back in running shape so I can shoot for a spring marathon. We’ll see. I’ll update next weekend.

3 Comments

Posted in Running, School, Teaching

Whirlwinds. Meanness. Writing. Exercise.

Posted on 24 September 2010 | 1 comment

I started the school year with an equal dose of confidence and trepidation, knowing my ability to teach would have to somehow balance with the expectations of Burris. One thing is true: this month has been a complete and utter whirlwind. I have never graded so many papers in such a short time, nor have I ever had so little time to do any personal reading or writing. I have found myself getting up at 4:00AM or 4:30AM each day this week in order to get grading and planning finished. I have spent the better part of at least one day, if not both days, of every weekend at school working. I haven’t even touched my dissertation, and now I face a couple of late nights working on a presentation for a conference I foolishly applied to attend. However, I do get to spend a good bit of quality time with friends I don’t get to see frequently, so I am looking forward to that part of it. Writing the presentation is an entirely different story!

One month into this new school year, I have to say that my experience is different than I expected. The people I expected to not like, I have grown to love, and the people I expected to really like, I am recognizing I am not so fond of. As usual, I am left with one driving question: Why do people insist on treating each with no compassion and no respect?  When I die, I fully expect  to move into my afterlife, asking to speak to whomever is in charge and trying to understand why people can’t be nice to each other. I will also demand to know why people get cancer and why it seems that the worst, most hateful people continually get ahead. I mean occasionally kind, loving people get ahead, but it feels as if the predominance of folks who are lauded in the media aren’t very nice. It seems as if the predominance of people in my life who have “the best lives” are the most hard-hearted and cruel. I suppose that is what happens when we continually measure the quality of people’s lives by financial success.

As you’ve noticed, and as I’ve said above, this new gig leaves little to no time for personal writing or reading. Normally, I wouldn’t consider working on my dissertation as personal gratification, but I crave a minute of reading a book written expressly for adults. I want to wrap my mind around a little Toni Morrison, and cuddle for a minute with Gloria Naylor. I have even found myself desiring to read scholarly articles! This need will be temporarily sated by my necessity to complete this conference presentation for next weekend. Sarah, Elizabeth, and I are going to Minneapolis, MN, for a fat studies conference. We are presenting on fat, pedagogy, and images. I was going to write about the students I’ve had who have interacted with the ideas of fat and body image, but I think I am going to shift my focus to include conversations or teachable moments in which my students have said things about being fat.

Finally, my body craves exercise in much the same way that my mind craves intellectual stimulation. I desire a run and a swim. I keep thinking that I will start running and swimming in the mornings, but this week I graded instead so next week I am going to shoot for swimming in the morning and easing back into running with a short barefoot run every evening. I feel like a slug. My ankle still hurts, but it is no longer excruciating. I hope the running won’t injure it again, because I have already missed one marathon opportunity, and it sucks.

*

The sun peeks over the top of the gas station across the street, highlighting the new garage being built next door. The rafters and wall-studs are geriatric dinosaurs darkened against the pinks and blues of the early morning sky. Two men sit, silhouetted by the light, by the windows between me and sunrise. They have discussed baptism, blackholes, and solar flares before moving on to high school cross country. Now they give thanks for their posh lives, reveling in the fact that they are not traveling business men who sit “forlorn and lonely” in hotel lobbies.

1 Comment

Posted in Dissertation, Running, School, Swimming, Teaching, Writing

This I Believe. Language. Seminary.

Posted on 26 August 2010 | 4 comments

Again this year, I am having my students write a “This I Believe” essay. I like to begin the semester (school year) with my students explaining why they believe in a particular idea, concept, or theme. I like to do this for two reasons, or probably more, but it helps me to get to know one big belief they hold, so we can talk about it throughout the semester. And, it helps me see how they already write about their beliefs, so I know what I need to teach about argument, about rhetoric, and about those pesky little things like grammar. I have a student writing about how fantastic he is, one writing about the first amendment, and one writing about friendship among other things. Fantastic topics, really, if they can pull them off with good, solid examples.

I have already had two parents tell me that they are thrilled that their children are actually writing in class school this year. Well, yeah, the only way to learn how to write is to actually do it. I figure it’s somewhat similar to trying to become a mechanic by learning the parts of an engine, but never putting the whole thing together. I suppose it might run, but it certainly wouldn’t run fluidly. Apparently, in the past, there has been a great emphasis on vocabulary and spelling without putting them into practice in writing. I really see no point in learning these skills separately from writing. In the same ways that reading and writing are related, and listening and speaking are related, vocabulary and spelling are related to writing. They all work together! Our language acquisition and usage functions as a gigantic web in which we learn how to speak and write. It’s ridiculous to separate them out on a regular basis. Enough ranting.

In other news, my Vibrams wore through the right sole. That’s my longer leg, which is probably why my other leg gets a hip ache, and that leg’s quad is always sore when I run. I can’t imagine being Wilma Rudolph. She deserves some mad props, running with legs that were once crippled. Seeing as how no one thought she’d walk normally, I guess she showed them by earning the title of Fastest Woman in the World. That’s right, Sister, run on.

In other news, I’ve been looking at recent AUSOT student orientation pictures. I remember being so optimistic and hopeful that anything I did in a pulpit would make a difference in this big, fucked-up world. I remember thinking that my sexuality had nothing to do with quality of pastor I would become. I remember hiding so far back behind those robes and stoles hanging in that seminary closet that I could barely see the light and the freedom that would eventually come from re-opening the door and leaping out a few years later. I remember thinking that my piercings might be a stumbling block for some and taking them all out, just to turn around and put them all back in. I remember being so in love with theology and talking about God and getting to know Jesus that I couldn’t focus on much of anything else. I remember passionately wanting to learn Hebrew and Greek. I remember walking in to the first orientation session and seeing some of my classmates and thinking that I could never be as put together as they were. I remember so many good things from my three years, but I also remember some bad. I remember being called a Femi-Nazi by a fellow student in a computer lab. I remember being so conflicted in classes when some of my beliefs didn’t align with the beliefs of others. I remember the pain and suffering that I put other people through, and though which they put me through. I remember knowing in the very core of my being that my sexual orientation wasn’t a choice, but that it was a gift from God that could rightfully be honored in a healthy relationship.

Now, I look back with a mix of joy and sadness, really the way that all people, if they were honest, would see the history of their lives. I think nostalgia is bound up in the details of remembering both good and bad, positive and negative, in equality. Both facets of our memories make us who we are. Do I love the fact that I met so many beautiful people? Yes. Do I love the fact that I questioned my identity in the world and in Christ on a daily basis? Yes, and no. Do I love the fact that I was made to feel like my own understanding of the gospel message was somehow errant because it didn’t align with the status quo? No. So, it was a tumultuous time, a blessing of a tumultuous time. Two of my students are writing their essays about how everything happens for a reason. I agree, but sometimes it is damn confusing how that all works out.

4 Comments

Posted in Religion, Running, School, Teaching

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Posted on 22 August 2010 | 5 comments

I am over the rainbow. This school is like Oz. There is a wicked witch who has evil flying monkeys and drones who say, almost audibly, “All we are, we owe her.” I am not sure that is really what the drones say as they march around the witch’s castle, but they are sure as hell happy when Dorothy frees them. Does anyone have a bucket of water, ’cause I’m ready to melt me a witch! This school is also Oz-like because the munchkins are fantastic; I have a few that might belong to the Lollipop Guild.

I stole this metaphor from the new math guy. He jokingly told his mother that he was going to buy ruby slippers to wear to school because Burris is like the Land of Oz. Though he isn’t going to do it, I think I am going to buy a pair of red shoes to wear to school. I think I am going to like him, but I can never remember his name. We are both here at school today, working on Sunday, trying to get our classroom plans in order. We both decided to take it day by day for this first full week and pass out the syllabi next Monday. I am going to make the nuts and bolts syllabi for my classes with the expectations outlined, and the general rules and practical bits. Then I am going to give them the year-long, or semester-long schedules next Monday.

I ran twelve miles today in preparation for the marathon. I think by the time November rolls around I will be ready for this. I am a little sore today, but still mobile. I have been having some serious doubts about my ability to last for 26.2 miles, but I am more nervous that I will be too slow and get scooped up by the medical wagon. If that happens, I’ll probably die. Today went well, but slow. I also have to keep reminding myself that I still have 76 days left to train for this. That’s twelve weeks or three months. As long as I can keep some semblance of a schedule, I can do this. As long as I get up early to do the runs, my body will respond. I know this in my head, but sometimes my bed feels so good at 5AM!

Leah finally sent me pictures from Mer’s wedding. Here are Merideth and I. There are at least six pictures of us, and this is the only decent one.

It was a little bright (and really fucking hot) on the beach.

This is what I want my wedding reception to look like. We had an absolute blast!

What else is new? I am trying to jog my mind to think of things, but nothing is coming. I suppose I should stop writing here and work on my syllabi.

5 Comments

Posted in Goals, Just for Fun, Relationships, Running, Teaching

At the Blue Bottle

Posted on 13 August 2010 | 7 comments

It’s really noisy in here. I have on headphones, and I can here too much noise for my liking. I’m not sure why people think they need to yell when they work in food service. I think all the restaurant clang makes the workers temporarily hard of hearing. I know it made me that way. So, I sit and listen to the Indigo Girls punctuated by loud utterances of laughter and food industry slang. I like it here. It’s real.

Tomorrow morning I will run 7 miles. I am shooting for 13-minute miles, so I plan to get up around 5 to run because it is too fucking hot otherwise. I don’t say that lightly, that it’s fucking hot. It is. This morning as I walked the dogs, the sweat puddled around my neck and in the small of my back. My shirt was drenched by the time I made it the slow, two-mile jaunt. The dogs were panting. I was panting. We relished the cool, air-conditioned house.

We are supposed to go move Grams’s stuff from Norwood to Warren Home tomorrow, too. I hope this move goes smoothly for her. It’s strange, really, how we move old people about from place to place either by force or by desire. There is much to be said for cultures who keep the old ones in their homes with them. I think it brings less fear of death and less fear of aging to see it happen right before your eyes. I have never seen anyone die. I have never seen the sloppy parts of getting old, except the time when Mrs. Rhine, our across the street neighbor, pooped on the floor when I went to visit her one time. She said, “Oh, excuse me,” and made a bee-line for the bathroom. A little poop fell out right there on the floor. It dropped in slow motion from the hem of her house dress to the floor while I sat there, a small child, not knowing what to do. “I’ll be back next week!” I shouted as I ran out the front door. I wasn’t sure what to do with the little poop staring at me, so I ran.

In fact, I think that could be a metaphor for my life. When there is a little poop staring me in the face, I want to run.

7 Comments

Posted in Coffee, Music, Relationships, Running