Category Archives: Teaching

It’s Been a Long Time…

…been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time. Sure has. Nothing like a little led Zeppelin to get the day going. I am not sure I even really like Led Zeppelin, but I like this song even though I have never really understood what it was about. It’s amazing that I could listen to a song a million times, at every high school dance (the three I went to) and on the radio, and never really get the lyrics.

I suppose it hasn’t really been lonely, but it has been a long time since I have written anything. So much has happened since the last time I wrote, it seems like light years since I went to Michigan, since Merideth got engaged, since I took my comprehensive exams, since Jacob spent two weeks at our house and taught me to love disc golf, and since Dave, the little man who is fixing our house, started fixing our house.

Because so much has been going on, I feel a little life-vertigo, like no matter where I put my foot down, it will be the wrong location and everything might come toppling down. I am not saying this to sound dramatic, I just feel a bit disoriented. I don’t, however, feel stressed, though I must be because I woke up yesterday with this kink in a muscle in my back. Today it was worse. While we were walking the dogs this morning, Bec said that I have the most amazing ability to somatize my stress. I do. I would much rather have a sore muscle than to have some deadly illness like I had last winter.

I started running last winter with the intention of finishing the mini-marathon in Indy, but I got so sick I couldn’t keep running. My lungs were pissed and they were having no part of my exercising in the cold air. Well, I since have started running again, and I am up to running 4 miles at a 12-minute mile pace. I say that’s not too shabby for a fat kid. I was supposed to run this morning, but when I woke up at 5:30, it was dark outside so I slept until 6:30 and walked the dogs.

Since the last time I posted, I have taken a Nazarite Vow that will end when my dissertation is finished. I took it on my birthday, July 22, by shaving my head and spending the day relaxing and contemplating the parameters of the vow. I amended the original Jewish vow, so I am not only following it, but I also added some things of my own. For the next year and a half to two years, I am abstaining from anything containing grapes, wine, or raisins, all alcohol, cutting my hair, eating meat, caffeine, sugary foods. In the same time period, it is my goal to walk at least 5 miles each day, which can include the morning run.  I plan to start swimming three times a week next week, as well. It is also my goal to run a marathon before I turn 40. So far, I am doing pretty well with my goals, and I have been managing quite well abstaining. The side-perk is that I have lost 30-35 pounds.

I feel all rusty and weird writing. I am having a hard time being articulate and creative without feeling like I am forcing it. I guess this is why every writing book, every writer, says that writing should be something that we do every day. I suppose, too, I should actually write about the things I mentioned in the first paragraph, which is typically what one does when setting up a piece of writing. Introduction: body: conclusion.

I should start off by talking about my vacation with Merideth’s family. We stayed at Little Bear Lake Hideaway, and the lake was beautiful. I swam across it, kayaked around it, and ran or walked the road that circled it every day we were there. One day I even went around twice. Usually I was the first one up and out of the cabin, so I got to see the water all quiet and smooth before anyone else was awake to see it. The water was a clear green, and I could see my feet when I was standing up to my neck in the water. The water was also incredibly cold. Very cold. Numbingly cold.

The days went by quickly, too quickly. I could actually live up there on a lake if I could find a job that would sustain me. We went to Gaylord, the closest fairly large town, three times and ate lunch at three decent diners. We went to Lewiston and ate at Talley’s Bar, and Merideth and I went to a little bar by the Outpost for coffee while Josh got Merideth’s clothes ready to go to Mackinac Island.

On Wednesday, we went to the island, and all day Merideth kept talking about wishing she could stay at the Grand Hotel. Finally, when the kids got tired, we walked up to the hotel and pretended we were all going to look at the porch. Little did she know, but Merideth and Josh were staying at the hotel. And, she also didn’t know he was going to propose to her. He did, and she said yes. They are getting married next June 5, and I am performing their wedding on a beach in Florida.

When I got back from Michigan, Bec’s nephew, Jacob, came and stayed with us for two weeks. We painted the outside of the house, which still is not completed, and we pulled up the carpet in the downstairs. We had tons of good conversation, and Jacob cooked dinner for us a few times. The best part of his stay were his disc golf lessons.

Nearly every afternoon, Jacob and I walked down to McCullough Park and pitched some discs. For an hour and a half or so each day, we just chilled and threw discs … and occasionally went poo-diving. Poo-diving happens when someone throws a disc into the drainage channel that runs along the edge of the course. We call the channel, the poo channel, because it is one of the ones that may or may not contain sewage when the storm sewers overflow. I only had to go poo-diving once, but Jacob had to go several times. Yum.

Jacob and I removed the carpet from the downstairs while Dave, the little man that is fixing and rewiring our house, redid the ceiling in the living room. About two weeks ago, he told us that it would only take a couple more days to finish the work, but I think he bit off more than he thought he was biting off with our rewiring. It has been a huge project and most of it had to happen through the uninsulated attic, so for a few days he couldn’t do much because of the intense heat. I can tell you, though, that I am ready for it to be finished, so we can start putting our house back to normal. I want to bring my couch in from the porch.

I took my comps last week and will know by Labor Day whether or not I passed. I am not confident that I did. The hard part about thinking that I may have failed is that I also got a job teaching American Literature at Burris one period a day. If I don’t pass my comps, I don’t get to teach at Burris next semester. If I don’t get to teach there next semester, I lose my foot in the door. And, I want to teach middle school English there next year! I keep trying, in the spirit of my Nazarite vow, to let God be in control and to trust what [They] are doing, but that is so hard for me. It is hard for me to realize that I am not in control, that God is.

I suppose another major event in my life is that my pastor is leaving. Last Sunday was his last Sunday to speak. I was fine until at the end of his message he remarked that he had been at our church for five years, and that it had been a good five years. Then I cried. I cried pretty hard through the last worship set, and then again once it was over. Of course, he came over and harassed me, when I was reading my book to stop myself from crying more, by singing, “I have my books and my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.” It’s true, but I am trying to become less of a rock, less of an island. I am trying hard to let people in. I suppose that is why my back has a huge knot in it.

P.S. Ms. Bern (CEO of Charming Shoppes, Inc.)

P.S. If you would add a concession stand in each of your stores, you might see your revenue increase. I know I could do with a nice refreshing beverage after grunting and sweating in and out of clothes in your tiny little dressing rooms. Why do you install heat lamps above them?

P.P.S. You could sell beer, too, but not Rogue’s XS Imperial Stout. The taste of the beer isn’t worth the ceramics wasted on the cool container, although I do like the little rubber stopper. My dislike for the beer has nothing to do with my lack of testes or testosterone. I simply like my beer to taste like beer, not bourbon. I am a machine when it comes to drinking beer. I don’t need more crankcase oil, which is what this beer tastes like. This reviewer, Dan, must have had a bit too much to drink before writing. In fact, I am sure Dan had the entire $15 bottle. Dan, it is always a bad idea to drink and write.

So, Ms. Bern, you should offer Cabernet, Shiraz, Avery’s Old World Porter, St. Peter’s English Ale, St. Peter’s Porter, Guinness, and Rogue’s Dead Guy Ale. Maybe for the Scottish lasses you could offer a Wee Heavy. How about some foot-long coney dogs and nachos, too?

P.P.P.S. Did I mention that you need to teach your machines how to sew on buttons? Mine are always falling off at inopportune times, like when I am teaching.

Waiting is Not My Strong Suit

I hate waiting. I think everything should happen instantly.

I should know right now, today, whether or not I have a job for next school year.

I should know right now, today, if I will have an assistantship for the summer.

I should know right now, today, what will be my future.

I’m impatient. I admit it.

If I could know what my future holds, would I chose to see it? Would I want to know if I was going to get hit by a bus tomorrow? Would I want to know that I would live to be 100 years old? Probably not, but I just hate waiting.

I think what I really hate about waiting is the fact that usually when we wait, we are waiting for someone to evaluate us, to tell us what they think of us, or we are waiting for something over which we have absolutely no control. Fate: that whore.

*

I woke up at 9 o’clock this morning. I have done nothing productive yet today. I am the biggest slacker. Ever.

*

I have never realized how bad day-time television can be. Desperate Housewives is a really bad show.

*

I am really fortunate to have so many great professors. I am slowly realizing their value and their influence in my life. I often require a large skillet clanged against my head in order to understand such things. This time, I am getting it by osmosis.

*

I do not regret leaving Grace Church. I miss some of the people, my friends. It was good to see people I haven’t seen in ages. It was good to be back in a place that feels like home. It was good to know that in their own disfunctional way the people there still love me. I missed the time I spent there as both a parishioner and a professional.

But, I do not miss the mind games, the old-boys club, or the way some people find it necessary to manipulate others. Particularly I don’t miss a certain “pit-bull with attitude” who has no ability to see the results of his poorly chosen actions.  A promise is a promise. You don’t reneg. Do you really think what you do is okay? Do you even consider how your actions impact others? No. No. No. I don’t think you do. If you did, you would reconsider. If you had as your first interest the salvation of others, you wouldn’t make it continually about you. That is selfish. We are called precisely to be unselfish, to give unconditionally, to give.

*

My brother found this saying on a bridge:

Generosity is not measured by how much we give, but by how much we keep.

*

I am still wading through wounds suffered in church. My pastor is leaving. I find it difficult to forgive. I find it difficult to find a reason to go to church. I find it difficult to believe. I find it difficult to put my faith in our church hiring someone like David to replace him. I think we may end up with a conservative, middle-aged, homophobic, pro-life misogynist who wants to put Jesus back in our schools. I don’t want to be there for that. I don’t want that.

And, I am not stupid enough to bind my belief in God with my belief in a man. My doubts have nothing to do with David’s leaving. His leaving just picked open old wounds that I have to let heal again. While they heal, I retain my right to be angry with God. So, God, I am angry with you, but I still love you.

Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me

What do “The Second Choice” by Theodor Dreiser, “Hands” by Sherwood Anderson, and “The Wagner Matinee” by Willa Cather all have in common? The fact is that I have to teach them all for my ENG 605 Literature Pedagogy class. Also, they are all written during the early part of the 20th century. They are dirty and gritty and explore all of those ideas that make us cringe: industry, relationships, sexuality, public and private domains, music, and modernization in all of its forms.

I think I could spend the entire class period talking about Dreiser. Well, now that I think a little more about it, I could spend a whole class period talking about each story. Each story is thick and voluminous, not easily explored in one pass. Short stories remind me of the Grand Canyon: on first glance you think you’ve seen it all (yeah, it’s a big hole), but then you realize that there are layers of color, trenches and rises, shrubbery, animals, and a river way down there at the bottom that you can barely see from the rim.

Teaching is about gleaning. It’s about looking around for the scraps that no one will notice and that no one cares about until you point them out, or until your students point them out to you. I think teaching resembles standing next to a dumpster of knowledge, poking around in it with a stick. You find something new and suddenly everyone wants it. In teaching that is good.

If everyone is interested enough to talk, then you know you’ve hit some sort of truth or importance in text. Your resonance strikes with someone else’s resonance and before you know it you’ve blown a speaker!

Is this really necessary?

This may not be.

This definitely is.