I know she can GET the job, Harry, but can she DO the job?

I have always thought that making first-or-second-year college students pick a major was a little ridiculous. How on earth is someone supposed to know, at age 18, what they want to do with their lives? [1] I cannot tell you how many people I talked to in my senior year who decided that they didn't want to be an education or business or psych major, but they only had one more semester and changing their minds would mean more time and money spent at school. And yes, I know that (thankfully!) many employers are just looking for a degree in general, nevermind what that degree is in, and no (just for the record), I'm not saying that getting a degree isn't worthwhile (although see [1] and a probable future post for more thoughts on this), but the point is: that's a hell of a lot of pressure to put on someone fresh out of high school, who--thanks to senior year and an unrealistic sense of self-assurance--thinks they actually know what it is that they want to do.

Like me, for example. I knew exactly what I was doing with my life (note the rueful shake of the head). I never even changed my major, because I knew before going to college that I was going to get my English degree, and then go on to grad school to study Composition And Rhetoric, and then become a tenured English professor and teach college freshmen How To Write and have a book-lined office with a comfy swivel chair and be that crazy blue-haired professor who changed students' lives on the regular.

Confession: I had no idea what "rhetoric" actually was (something Aristotle something), and now after a year and a half of grad school I might be able to explain it to you. Same applies for "tenure." I have also learned (in a mere 3 semesters of teaching) that I'll settle for making sure my students remember to bring a pencil to class, and convincing them that teachers DO actually notice when you use 12.5 point font (and that it just makes you look desperate when I've told you seventeen times that there isn't actually a page requirement). [2]

--anyway the point is, being an English Composition professor just made the most sense. Writing has always been pretty easy for me (which is why I would wait until the night before to do it...), and I care about reaching students at the early-adult-stages because that's the time when most people deal with/go through a lot of pretty significant life changes. I certainly did. And you'd think (maybe) that the fact that literally all of my other plans had changed would have indicated to me that I should rethink the English Prof one--but no, I'm stubborn, and it was the one thing I was determined to hold on to. Going To Grad School was the reason I turned down a promotion at The Corporation (at least three different times), why I only half-heartedly looked for better-paying (and more enjoyable) jobs, why I spent my summers trying to study for the damned GRE and write up application essays instead of doing the thing that has always been waiting (patiently) on the sidelines for me to notice it. I was thoroughly devastated when I didn't get accepted on my first round of applications (surely the magna-cum-laude-with-honors and a talent for writing would up my chances of a killer statement of purpose?!) but then not getting accepted just became a challenge that I had to take on, which I did, because I knew that I could if I just tried a little harder.

Not once did I stop to think whether or not that was what I really wanted to do.

The summer before I started school was the first time I gave myself a break, took The Pressure Of Everything Else off, and allowed myself to take my writing seriously. After all, I had the time, and no other commitments, and I might as well make the most of my summer before I moved on with my "real" life. And then I wrote more that summer than I've ever written, and it was messy and mostly awful and that project has been temporarily shelved, but it underscored the thing I've always known and pretended not to: I want to write fiction. My heart has always been in the young adult fantasy shelves, with the stories about girl heroes and adventures, with magic and romance and learning about life and relationships and yourself. But then grad school happened, and there I was, doing what I'd worked so hard to do and trying (only somewhat successfully) not to be miserable while doing it.

This is a post about Making and Changing Plans (she explained), but allow me to take a small detour to talk a little bit about whining. The thing is, it's so hard to explain where I am with school without looking like I'm just pathetically complaining about having relatively-demanding responsibilities. On the one hand, my problems are directly related to the combination of the objective, widely-accepted stress about grad school and my own struggle with anxiety. Being a graduate student is all-consuming: you wake up in the morning thinking about the work you have to do, and frequently just doing your chores feels like reprieve. [3] But I also never feel like I am doing as much as I should, and I never reach a point where I can look at my to-do list and say "yep, crossed everything off for today." And because I'm teaching, I have the weight of the education of 48 students on my heart, and the constant feeling of failure when it comes to providing meaningful feedback on their work (which only about a third of them will read anyway), as well as managing my interpersonal anxiety when it comes to overly-confident-and-cocky students (or, worse, the totally non-confident students, when my Big Sister Function kicks on and it's all I can do not to hug them while they're crying). It's little wonder that I'll take my victories in the form of pencil-equipped students on a daily basis.

But that's only one side of it. The other side comes directly from the fact that I can't seem to stop from talking about how hard of a struggle this is. And that's the really upsetting thing about grad school: it consistently makes me feel like a failure, like I am the kind of person who would rather be doing anything other than the work she's supposed to be doing. It makes me genuinely concerned that I am lazy and/or incompetent, that I am bad at sticking things out, that I can't handle actual responsibility (so much for motherhood) and I'm never going to be happy because all I want to do is watch Netflix and color--and that all of this is my fault, because I'm useless. Personal life history and character references will probably (hopefully) prove otherwise, but grad school makes it hard for me to even know who I am anymore, and between weeks 1 and 15, sometimes it's literally all I can do to have a good solid cry on the couch (or the floor, or the shower, you know, wherever). [4]

For those of you who have asked me about school and gotten the overly-dramatic time-for-a-paxil answer, this is why. And then I hear myself say (again) how it's really challenging and how rough of a time I've had, and then I hate myself for whining about all of this, again, and then I shut up because methinks the lady doth protest too much.

And thus I return to my main point, which is that having plans is fine, and being the kind of person who pursues her goals is fine, but what we often forget to tell ourselves is that we need to take time to consider what it is we actually want to do, and whether our Well-Made Plans are really getting us there.

Last semester I had to decide whether to turn in an application to renew my teaching assistantship, as well as one to the Creative Writing department to Continue My Education and get a PhD (because regardless of the fact that The Plan had always been a PhD in comp/rhet, getting a PhD in general was still acceptable). It's such a good opportunity, everyone said, and it would be silly not to at least apply because you can always decide not to go later. And even if none of UWM's fiction writing classes will specifically help you with what you want to write, you can still benefit from the classes, because writing and sharing your work will always help you improve, won't it?

I am not ARGUING that with you, Harry. [5]

But for the first time (that I can think of anyway), I made an active decision not to act on something that I could have. I nervously took some deep breaths as December deadlines passed me by. Filling out some forms? No big deal. [6] But what was a big deal was realizing that even taking that step--even pretending that I would decide later--meant that there was a really good chance that I would make myself do it. Because, damn it all, I'm not a quitter! I'm not someone who flakes out on Serious And Important Life Goals! I am not someone who just gives up on her dreams!

Not arguing that with you, Harry. But just because I can get the job--and maybe, even if I CAN do the job--it doesn't mean that I have to.

Now (almost 10 years after Making Plans) I finally, actually, know what I want.

I want to write novels and raise a family. I want to go to a job that allows me to actually cross items off my to-do list, a job that I don't need in order to feel fulfilled, and I want to leave everything there when I come home. I want to read ALL of the books and learn not to feel like I'm disappointing anyone (myself included/especially) for not Being Productive every waking moment. I don't mind hard work, and I don't mind challenges. But if I'm going to face those, no matter what, they might as well be hard work and challenges on the road to doing the things I'm actually interested in.

So, long story short (much too late, they chorused): I'm about to hit the ground limping with my final semester of grad school. [7] I'm really, really overwhelmed by it (I have to write my thesis and teach a totally new class, not to mention ignore the noisy conflict of senioritis and highest-grad-school-stakes-so-far), and I could use your prayers, because I'm already a couple of emotional meltdowns in and the semester hasn't even started yet. But if Joe can jump into a volcano, and if Addie can leave the castle to find the cure for the Gray Death [8], then I can (probably) (hopefully) make it through the next 3.5 months.

And then?

I guess we'll find out.

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[1] Not to mention the fact that we tell them to go directly to college, do not pass go, do not collect any money for having a full time job to grow up a little and figure out what you want out of life (because you certainly won't be making enough money to pay for college, to the collected dismay of the older generations) -- but that's for a different post.

[2] For the record, blue hair washes out right away and looks terrible with my complexion, and besides, I don't even like to own books.

[3] If that doesn't capture the sense for you, I don't know what will.

[4] For my Catholic friends out there: how do I nominate my husband for sainthood?

[5] This, the title, and the images are from the movie Joe versus the Volcano, which if you haven't seen yet you absolutely should.

[6] Sending in creative writing samples and actually getting accepted to the program? Much bigger deal. All things considered, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten accepted anyway (realistic observation, not self-depreciation). But that's not actually the point, so this got footnoted instead.

[7] I've considered quitting, but Aaron has convinced me that I should have something to show for all the work I've done (emotional and otherwise), so I guess I'll at least give it a shot. See [4].

[8] Bonus points if you know what this is from -- looking at you, Minte.

countdown

I think it finally hit me that my life is changing again, and I'm sort of in backpedal mode. No, I'm not pregnant. But I am starting grad school in September, and I am instructing two sections of English 101 in addition to taking my actual graduate courses (and still barista-ing on the side!) and basically, two weeks from now I will be trading in life as I know it so I can start all over again.

This was always part of my 'plan' [1], but it's hard to accept that I am, in fact, actually going back to school and actually getting hands-on, with-guidance practice/experience for the thing that I want to do as my career. I don't know how to be excited about that, because it's not even really ... real. It's like this pretend on-paper thing that's happening and it's all sort of still vague and overwhelming. Plus, the thought of actually teaching and being responsible for not one but two entire classes is just ... I mean, it's terrifying. Exciting, but terrifying. And I know in the back of my head that I really just have to--you know, show up, and go through the motions, and try not to stress out about how it's not going at all how I planned, and we'll all get through it together, but for the right-now, while I have the time to be thinking about it, it's sort of looming overhead as this big, all-consuming unknown thing.

And the weirdest part is that right now, I'm looking at the time I have before the four (count 'em, four) orientations before school starts, and I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have done this in the first place. I feel like I just started to figure my shit out. I somehow magically jumped the hurdle of "getting my ass in gear" and I have been faithfully writing, working out, and reading the Bible. Like, pretty much every day, or in a comfortably-alternating pattern. [2] I am creating, rather than finding, a balance of work/social life/Piera time. I've stopped stressing out quite so much about the times when I decide to do something relaxing, because it's occurred to me that it's actually good for me to let myself chill out for a while (who knew). In some ways I feel that I have a lot more on my mental/emotional plate than I have in a while, but in other ways, I feel a lot more at peace with myself in general. And I'm excited about it, and about being generally positive and happy, and I'm not ready to give it up yet! I just freakin got here!

Two weeks. Two weeks and three weekends of actually being the way I've been trying to be for the last three years: content. And that's already slipping away because the list of "things I have GOT to do before school starts" is growing--things like my proofreading gig, and having to actually research and decide on (and pay for....) my own health insurance, and cleaning/organizing my study (and finding a desk to put in it, which is really the most important part), and changing my facebook settings so that students can't see my stuff, and making sure I have some quality time with the sibs before they leave for school again, and buying things like nice pants and shoes maybe? and I already have upcoming weekend plans, and ... suddenly I don't even have my two weeks anymore, and I'm careening down the slippery slope into the future.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely would not take it back. I can't wait to be back in school. I like me the best when I am in school--I love constantly learning, constantly writing, constantly being presented with new ideas and new ways of thinking. I love the schedule and the routine and the whiteboards and all of it. It just seems that I have been working so hard to get here that I have wasted the last three years, and it's almost ... not fair? to suddenly have figured out how to live a life that I enjoy. That I want. I finally hit my stride, and haven't I been looking for it my entire life?

In a way, it's probably taken these last three years of work and discontent and disappointment and hope in order for me to be "ready" [3] for this. A friend of mine pointed out that I needed to go through all of the challenges of the last few years in order to to learn how to face Life and find some kind of balance. I have to stop thinking of it as a waste and start trying to see it as the learning process--but that's hard to do when I am finally here, and I can't remember what was so hard about it in the first place. Then again, I will have had a few months of this before I get started... maybe I needed it all to happen right now in order for me to be excited enough to carry it with me into the upcoming semester.

What I'm saying is, I just want to BE at the start of Orientation #1. Once I hit the ground running I won't have the time to look back, even if I wanted to--and I definitely don't want to.

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[1] don't worry, I never actually counted on said plan, but it was, you know, there
[2] side effects may include: not knowing who you are anymore; wondering how long it's going to last before you fizzle out; random bouts of ridiculous excitement over the amount of productive I feel in a given day
[3] I'll probably be referencing this post from now until the day I die...

it's just money

Yup, you guessed it: this is another temper-tantrum post regarding the evils of growing up.

Seriously though--when they told me it was rough, they weren't kidding. When the adults I've complained to all gave me the "heh, yeah, I remember those days," I thought, "well, at least I'm not alone, at least they survived."

What I didn't realize was that the little "heh" was a temporary flashback to the red font on your bank statement, or the dreaded calls from 800 numbers (fourteen times a day), or the fact that you start using change when you buy things, simply because it makes you feel like you're spending less money.

For a while it was comforting to know that this is a normal post-college experience. Everyone agrees that it's hard to balance yourself out, start paying back loans, try to pay rent or utilities or whatever, nevermind--God forbid--the occasional "splurge," which at this point, includes paying $1.50 for a redbox movie. But it's normal, right? Plenty of Real Adults have done this, and survived, and have even started to have children! [1]

If it's normal, which they keep telling me it is, then everyone deals with it, and eventually, people recover. It's not forever. One day, or so I am told, it'll be normal to have a positive number in your bank account when you get your next paycheck.

The only thing is, that's just not helpful.

No, I don't want your budget lecture or your helpful suggestions or your "have you tried"s. The problem isn't our lack of ability to manage our money. The problem is the lack of freaking money. And sure, it's going to get better. Aaron is being handed work left and right, and my student loans go on hold in the fall, plus I get a salary to be a TA, which yay, but that doesn't help me now, this week, when it's Tuesday and we're overdrawn and there are literally only two eggs and a stick of butter in the fridge. At least I don't have to decide what to make for dinner?

And so, because I'm me, I like to look at all the things I did or am doing wrong. I could have gotten a degree in something marketable and not "English," because what does that degree even mean [2]. I could have "saved up for college" and/or applied to a bunch of places until I got a free ride somewhere and then I wouldn't have loans to pay back. I could shut my stupid mouth and get the job at Aldi bagging groceries, because in the end, what's another 20 hours/week of dealing with the average American consumer, and no one really cares about your degree or actual abilities anyway. And the time you are (selfishly!) taking for your marriage, your sanity, or cooking actual meals isn't really that important, because--you need the money! Get off your high horse and stop bitching!

....

I used to believe, wholeheartedly, that doing what you love is the most important. I used to believe, wholeheartedly, that it was just money, and that there would never be enough, and you just had to focus on what God is giving you today, and let tomorrow sort itself out...tomorrow.

The thing I'm most upset about, more than anything else, is the fact that it's getting harder and harder to believe in that. In theory, I do. In theory, I completely believe that God gives me what I need, when I need it. In theory, it could be a lot worse, and I have a zillion things to be thankful for, and I really have no right to complain at all.

You may have noticed, but I like to whine about growing up. Partially, it's because I know I'm not alone and I feel a sort of camaraderie with my fellow post-grads--and also, I'm a smartass and it's part of my stand-up routine. But honestly? It's so much harder than I realized it would be. And I'm not just talking about paying my bills. I'm talking about shouldering the responsibility of an apartment, a car [3], a job. I'm talking about facing the fact that it's irresponsible not to do something about the anxiety disorder I've been ignoring for years. Regular day-to-day responsibilities aren't homework that I get to put off until the last minute. The decisions Aaron and I have to make--we're it. We make the last call, and if it's a bad decision, there's no one to rescue us. There's no midnight-"get me out of this sketchy party"-phone-call. We're the end of the line, and we're just so used to being kids. Sure, we listened to what grownups told us, and eventually we actually started paying attention, but how on earth can you be "prepared" for this? All you really have is an idea of what it'll be like, and then cannonball, it's into the freezing cold water and you'd better learn how to swim.

You probably won't believe this, but I actually hate listening to myself whine. I know I don't have it as bad as it feels. I can look at today and think, I have a job, I have tips to buy groceries, I have a car to get home and a fantastic relationship with my fantastic husband. College degree, acceptance to grad school, prospects for the future, friends, clothes, cell phones--what do I really have to complain about?

"Growing up" is finding--or sometimes, creating--balance. Maybe I'm not at work every waking moment, but I'm making the most of my life. And life is more than the bank account. Life is goals and relationships, it's using the talents that we're given (even if they don't make us money!). It's finding the strength to face another day, to be able to say alright, let's have a kid or two, [4], to remember that the amount of money you have/don't have doesn't--shouldn't--can't--dictate how you live your life. Can I make changes? Sure. Will it be touch-and-go for a few years? Probably. But that's just how it is. That's just life, and it's not supposed to be easy.

"Growing up" means actually living and breathing the belief that God is giving us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it. It's not something that just happens, it's something you face, you learn, you exercise over and over again, probably forever. It's exhausting, and there's no going back. And that is the hard part.

---
[1] I can't even begin to process how that would work right now. The suggestion alone raises my heart rate.
[2] If you're one of my past or future professors, please note that this is rhetorical and cynical and ... just keep reading...
[3] Two, actually, and no I don't want to talk about it
[4] Nope, not a pregnancy announcement. Stand down, soldier.

why i've been going crazy for the last few months

I can't decide if posting this is cheating, since I didn't write it for my blog in particular, but I guess it's no worse than posting a link to someone else's blog? So here it is: my grad school application essay. It feels a teeny bit pretentious to show it off, but I'm kind of proud of it, so...whatever.

Oh, and while I'm being self-conscious, I thought about taking out the school-specific details at the bottom, but then I didn't.

Anyway, enjoy.

---
When I assign the first paper in my future English 101 class, it will be on a current and controversial topic sure to elicit strong opinions from my students. This will encourage them to share their perspectives while giving me a snapshot of their writing abilities. But my favorite part of this assignment will come at the end of the semester, when I ask them to write a second paper on the same topic—except this time, they have to write it from the opposite point of view.

I can’t wait for the uproar when they learn that this is their final.

This assignment epitomizes what I find so glorious about writing. On a practical level, it requires a structured outline, thorough research, and the ability to present information in a logical progression. But this assignment is about more than just composing The Perfectly-Written Essay. It forces students to build an argument from scratch, and to learn how to use language to support an idea—even an idea they disagree with. In committing to the writing instead of only to the position, students learn the value of each and every word used to present a perspective. In using their writing to communicate to the world, students learn the power those words have, and the importance of having reasonable support for their ideas.

There comes a time in our lives when we have to figure out what we love and what we stand for. We have to account for ourselves, but in order to do so, we first have to understand ourselves. In college—right when we need it the most—we learn a beautifully structured method for thinking through an idea and supporting an opinion: expository writing. The classic essay format provides a way to identify the questions we are asking, and gives us the medium with which to answer them. But most of all, the essay calls for order in the form of a thesis. And when students are inspired to create and deliver a personal opinion by means of that thesis, they not only learn to write effectively, but also they also come to a better understanding of their own beliefs.

The unfortunate reality, however, is that college writing assignments are often a wasted effort. Working in the Concordia Writing Center for four years revealed to me that even the most diligent of students do not take their English Composition classes seriously simply because they are boring. The essay is established only as an arbitrary format for future homework assignments, and students walk away uninspired. And what a shame that is, because learning to write is the perfect platform for learning how to think critically. English Composition must not become obsolete, and I intend to be a part of its regeneration.

To do so, my idealism needs to be met with the reality of experience and the structure of a strong education. My attraction to the English department at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee lies in the department’s dedication to writers, evident in its cross-cultural, interdisciplinary studies as well as in the active support and involvement of the writing center. I look forward to the guidance of scholars with such diverse backgrounds and research interests, particularly Alice Gillam and her course “Teaching Writing as Process,” and Dennis Lynch’s experience as Director of Composition. I am also eager for the opportunity to hold a teaching assistantship, which is the ideal method of a hands-on education for my intended career as a professor of English. I hope to use my experience at UWM to reshape the way we write, and consequently, the way we think, one thesis at a time.

Today, the essay. Tomorrow, the world.