I've come to the following conclusion: had I to do it over again, I wouldn't come to graduate school. I wouldn't pursue my doctorate. I would remain in my classroom and teach, reading and writing in the hours afterward. It's an uneasy conclusion to arrive at, especially since my institution has been kind enough to support me during my time here. Please don't confuse this as being ungrateful; I'm not. I am unsure that what I gained is more valuable than what I gave up. Damned hindsight.

I've been working at a local elementary school as a reading teacher the past few weeks, working with a small group of students before school lets out for the summer holiday, and am reminded of the rush when that certain circuit connects in a child's brain. Suddenly, the symbols on the page not only make sense but they mean something. I've missed these tiny epiphanies. I've missed the social-ness of teaching. Being a scholar is such isolating work. I am not an isolated person.

My qualifying exams begin in three days. Thirty days, three questions, sixty pages. I keep thinking about the whole experience, wondering why the hell I'm doing this to myself.

Note To Self: On Your Birthday Eve

Dear Self: 

Do you remember your tenth birthday? It was cool yet sunny and your aunt showed up totally sloshed, shoving rolls of quarters attached to mylar balloons into your hand before she exclaimed in her slurred speech that you were growing up so fast. It wasn't until she went into the house that it hit you, the sadness, in inevitability of time. Never again would you be a single digit. There would always be a number in the tens place. I think this fed into those years of agonizing over leaving for college yet we both know how quickly you packed your bags when the time came. 

I feel like 29 has the possibility of being that kind of year, filled with grief over the steady passage of time. This 28-year-old is worried, quite honestly, that 29 will be hard. There will be lots of writing, more hard work to be done than hours in the day, and the potential to uproot everything and begin somewhere else. Again. 

It will be okay. Remember that you always seem to work your way through the chaos and emerge standing, albeit slightly bruised sometimes. Be risky. You play it too safe - you know this. Just not too risky. (See how hard this is!) Be kind to yourself. You always instruct others to do so yet rarely follow the advice yourself. Guard yourself against cynicism. I can feel it creeping in. Battle against it. That's not who you are, it will not be who you become. Don't borrow trouble. You cause enough on your own. Love, you jackass. It's not as though you have a finite amount of the stuff. 

May 29 be a good year. 

Be Well, 

You 

Exhausted

I taught today.

My children's literature class started this morning. At nine o'clock in the morning, seven undergrads and I began talking and thinking about children's literature and will do so for the next three weeks. It's the first new class I've taught since my first year and, risking sounding like a geek, I find the search for readings and experiences exhilarating. But exhausting.

Add to this class working at a local school as reading support. Three afternoons a week, I get to go hang out and first graders and figure out the mysteries of learning to read. I've missed teaching, actually working with a kiddo and figuring out what will work for them. Yes, it's frustrating and chaotic and messy, but golly do I miss it.

Today I got to teach twenty-one-year olds about the Puritan tradition of children's literature and six-year olds about the multiple sounds C makes. I am exhausted but I taught my ass off and it felt freaking amazing.

Grad School = Running

The House of Whelmed has been abuzz today in anticipation of this afternoon's graduation. Hair was curled, make-up was applied, those fancy doctoral robes were ironed. It was quite a production, really; a flurry of activity for a quick mention of one's name and a walk across the stage. Anne commented this morning that this was probably the first time she has walked throughout her entire doctoral program. Not walk in a physical way, but walk as in taking a moment to really exist in the moment without having to worry about what project was next, what papers needed to submitted to what journals, where those articles were. We have all been running through our programs, filling our summer schedules with classes, our spare moments with transcribing, even our sleeping hours are occupied with dreams of coding and theory. Yet I'm unsure that I would have it any other way: yes, there are moments of exhaustion, of physical pain, but there are moments where the simple joy of the metaphorical run are breathtaking.

The Last Friday of the Semester

I submit Boston Terriers as the most adorable dogs in the world. Seriously, who could resist loving that mug? 

I digress: the semester, he is done. In larger news, my coursework for my doctorate is done. This last revelation hasn't quite settled in my brain yet and probably won't until I've worked my way through quals in June. I am so close. To what, I am unsure, but I am close. 

It just hit me: the semester ends in two weeks. Drat, drat, drat. How did I get here? 

I'm struggling against myself as I work to finish up classes, draft my quals exam questions, and prepare to teach class this summer. This last part is a new addition to my summer docket: a three-week course on children's literature in the elementary classroom. This is the class I've been lusting after since I arrived in Indiana and I finally get to teach it. Twelve sessions. Three weeks. It begins in three weeks and I still have this semester to wrap up. 

I imagine there being some all-nighters in my general future. Overall, this isn't a horrible thing. 

In other news, dang is it beautiful outside. 

Weekend Away

Saturday in Detroit. Book sale at the Detroit Public Library and an afternoon wandering around The Henry Ford. Brilliant, I tell you. Brilliant. 

Herman Miller Goodness

I'm trying to zip through the week, which is a tricky proposition. I try to live in the moment, to expand my hours as much as possible, but with a trip back to Michigan in the plans for the weekend, I want Thursday afternoon to be here NOW. I haven't seen my best friend Candice since Christmas and we are planning a weekend of lounging, sight-seeing, and general tomfoolery.

I'm overly excited about heading to the Henry Ford, literally just a hop, skip and a jump away from Candice's house to see the Good Design: Stories from Herman Miller exhibit. I'm a sucker for HM, a Michigan company whose plastic-molded chairs and futuristic office furniture are celebrated for their mid-century aesthetic. I will, one day, own a circular oak table surrounded by white plastic-molded chairs with Eiffel bases. It's a goal.

As I researched the exhibit in an attempt to plan out our weekend, I came across The Print Gallery, another Michigan company with a unique Herman Miller connection. Since 1970, Herman Miller has been hosting a summer picnic for their employees and commemorating them with annual posters; The Print Gallery has been given permission to sell prints of these visual delights. They are so summery, so bright and cheery, yet still full of the aesthetic one would expect from Herman Miller.

All images: EverythingArt.com

These are some of my favorites and with decent pricing (from $45 for recent posters to $250 for limited editions), I think I'm making one of them my "congrats, you survived another semester" present to myself. Now if only I could finish writing all the papers that need to be turned in before that happens...

Lists rather than actual posts.

I've been meaning to post for about four days now but haven't seemed to find the time. As such, I have a ton of stuff in my head that I need to get out, which will result in the following list:

I have the best roomies ever. This past week was filled with anxiety and woe as I had... 

...a keynote address to give on Friday. Don't I look all scholarly-like? I was asked to give the keynote at a small conference here on campus, the only directive was to make it inspirational. When I signed on, I figured I could pull it off without a problem. Only when I realized the Dean of the School of Ed was last year's speaker (and my course supervisor and on of my teacher heroes was the speaker the year before that) did I start falling apart a bit. As I wrote last entry (which also consisted of a list - let's hope this is not a habit I'm starting here), who am I to give this talk at a conference about exemplary? Crap. So I avoided myself all together and talked about my kids, our time together, and how important they are to me still. I talked about exemplary work in college as a contract for future exemplary work, binding them to providing students with thoughtful, deliberate instruction while still being aware of who their students are as people. Reviews have been positive, which is good. (Notes to self for future speeches, should I ever be asked again: you over-plan. Remember thinking you had about ten minutes of dead air time so you hurried up and wrote more? Yeah, don't do that. You forget that people need time to laugh, time to think. Oh, and just put notes on your PPT slides. You are not a reader of the screen. You know this, trust yourself.) 

I finished Sweater Quest, by the hilarious Adrienne Martini, a week or so ago and it inspired me to try knitting socks again. My first summer of knitting, about two years ago, I managed to work my way through a sock from the top-down, which was an unnerving project - what if I run out of yarn? what if they don't fit? OMG, WHAT AM I DOING!? Not a pleasant project. So for two years, I've had this skein of Harry Potter sock yarn in my stash, taunting me (particularly because I had to search high and low and across three states for the blasted thing). Using some mad Google skills, I located some tutorials (here and here and here for those interested) and cast on. A little over a week later, I've a sock! And it fits! No pictures, though... I'm trying to wait until I have them both done... It could be a while. 

Mmmm... a quilt top. It's so much better than the first one. The seams on this one (kinda) match up. This is a good thing, no? 

Okay. I feel better. Now to finish taxes, figure out why my data set is out of numerical order, and plan for tomorrow's class. Perhaps all of this can be done out in the sun, yes? 

April, I am so glad to see you.

My friend Mark and I used to email each other every Sunday with our three highs of the week, three lows of the week. I'm unsure when we fell out of the practice, but I think it might be an easy way to get myself back into the writing here as the four drafts I've been working on just aren't anywhere near publishable. So, without further fanfare: 

Highs: 

* Today, while teaching my undergrad class, we all sang "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" as part of a phonics activity. 21-year-olds singing this little ditty just makes all the planning worth it. 

* I ran into a good grad school friend I hadn't seen in a while at the grocery today - had a chance to catch up and make plans to get together for coffee later in the week. 

* This book is slowly but surely bringing me back to something resembling academic life. 


Lows: 


* Writer's block. I'm giving a keynote address at a small conference on Friday morning and am struggling. The last speaker was the Dean, the year before that was the Director of one of the programs at the school. I am simply a grad student - what can I possibly say? 


* It's the first humid day of Spring, which is giving me a massive headache and a premature desire to turn on the air condition. Will take two aspirin and wait it out. It's too early for the A/C. 


* I'm struggling with some big life decisions, which sucks. I mean, good because I have options, but the actual figuring out of those options sucks. Hardcore. Like a Dyson. 

Officially

I was wrong. Spring hadn't arrived yet - I should know better than to declare it so. I can only declare Spring has truly arrived when I get my spring head cold. As of this morning, it has arrived. My head felt like the inside of a particle accelerator, which isn't that great of a feeling. Luckily, my undergrads worked on an Internet activity for our class time so I could do home, take massive amounts of cold medicine and rest. Not exactly how I wanted to spend the first day back from Spring Break. Hm.

A confession? I'm actually glad to be done with break. I'm much more productive when I have tons of things going on - the unstructured nature of breaks doesn't work well with me. I get lots of things done, mind you, just nothing official. Ugh.

Also: chocolate peppermint cupcakes and mocha frosting? Awesome.

I Won't Worry

Back in the spring of 2004, I would leave my tiny apartment in Mason-Abbott Hall in the wee small hours of the morning and make my way into the heart of Lansing for a day of teaching. I was loving what I was doing: my second graders were awesome, my cooperating teacher was amazing, and I was teaching pretty much all day. Teaching well, I might add. That twenty  minute drive into Lansing proper, however, was an anxious one. With Spring came the end of the school year, meaning I would need to find a teaching position, preferably in my beloved Mitten State. It wasn't a good time to be a beginning teacher in Michigan - the cuts that are now ravaging the system were just beginning and positions were few and far between. My ulcer had kicked into overdrive and I was sending both resumes and graduate school applications into the ether. Anxiety ruled those days. 

During that twenty minute drive, Jason Mraz's The Remedy (I Won't Worry) would often come across the Lansing airwaves and it became something of an anthem. Don't worry the time away. Everything works out. I would sing loudly, alone in my Ford Taurus, and some of the tenseness would leave my shoulders. 

And things did work out. I found a teaching job, a job I loved, and friends and began building a life. I left said job for graduate school. I'm preparing to leave graduate school in a little over a year. The song, it's back. Things will work out again, won't they? 

Infidelity

(Image from Bauer)

I bought my first pieces of Fiestaware about eight years ago - two juniper place settings that were heavily marked down at Younkers. I was in undergrad at the time and 75% off was the only way I was going to be able to afford the stuff. In the space between those first place settings and now, I've managed to amass a decent-sized collection - snapping up vintage pieces at flea markets and new pieces when they are appropriately on sale. Honestly, though, my passion for the Fiesta has wavered a bit - they've moved away from the more vintage-inspired color palette that drew me to it in the first place and into a rainbow of primary colors. Don't get me wrong: they are beautiful, but not what I love. I still love the Turquoise (please never go out of production!) and miss persimmon and their soft butter yellow like whoa. 

(Image from Bauer)

Then I stumbled on Bauer Pottery, out of LA. I won a lot of various pottery on eBay and there were some Bauer pieces - beautiful colors and just lovely pieces of pottery. A quick Google search revealed they are still making pieces, still in a beautiful array of vintage colors. LOVE. IT. Not that I'm going to throw all my Fiesta into the eBay ether, but golly do I love this stuff. Particularly: the cake stand in aqua makes my knees a little shaky and this cookie jar in orange needs to be in my life. Someday, friends. Someday.

It's the tail end of Spring Break - the weather is warm and the sun is out. Despite the anger of having to revert back to scheduled days in a matter of two days, it's lovely. 

I first came to IU about three years ago on a day much like today and I find myself still in awe at how beautiful it is. These buildings made of native lime stone, many dating from the WPA, are majestic. There's no other word for it. 

Since it's Spring Break, there are very few students on campus, which gives me some time to appreciate all of it. It's slowly sneaking in: the idea that I will be leaving this space, these buildings soon. 

That is an okay thing.

Yikes! It's Thursday already! Wherever did my Spring Break go? 

It hasn't been a total wash: there has been writing, there has been some knitting, there has even been some sewing... just not enough of it. I want more, another week of aimless scheduling. I think, in my head, I'm thinking this is my last hurrah, my last bit of aimless scheduling for a while. The summer, hopefully, should be spent working on dissertation collection and wrapping up classwork. Fall has the potential to be busier than the average semester. Spring will be spent writing, editing, and writing some more. It isn't going to get any better than this. 

So I'm going to hit the gym - I haven't been running in months - and correct some student papers. I'm going to spend these last days of break getting things done but at a slower pace. It's going to quicken all too quickly. 

Also: the fabric above? Love it. I found the quarter yard at a flea market a few weeks back and envision a pair of patchwork potholders in my future. Twenty-five cents. Nice. 

That Conversation

It's been a while since I've teared up while watching Grey's Anatomy. I think the last time was after George's father died and Christina gave him the "Welcome to the Club" talk outside of the hospital. I had just lost my mom and so much of that moment resonated with me. Bring forth the tears.

Last night's episode offered up a more subtle moment that left me verklempt: Arizona telling Torres she didn't want children. That face, the one above? I like to think I am better at hiding my disbelief than my beloved Torres, but I am all too familiar with that face. It's the moment you realize the relationship has an expiration date, much like milk. It's an insanely sad moment because I can feel myself letting go of the other person despite wanting to hold them close as long as I can. But I know I will have to let them go and my systems begin this automatically.

Here's the thing: I want kid. I've built my life around having a kid. I don't want to ensnare someone else into that process who doesn't want to live through that chaos. I want school plays and midnight vomiting, heart breaks and first days of school. Not everyone wants that. I get it, I do. But I want it and I'm not willing to negotiate around it so when I hear those words from the person I am seeing, I begin letting go.

So, yes, I teared up over one of the most melodramatic shows on TV. I'm okay with it and hope it's not going to reflect on my taste level too badly.

And Just Like That

I was walking to the School of Education this morning and stopped immediately in my tracks when I saw these small crocuses (croci? - what is the plural?) peeking out at me. How had I missed the arrival of Spring? 

Still generally engrossed in busy-ness, although I'm trying to be more thoughtful in the projects I take on. I announced on my Facebook a few days ago that I wouldn't be taking on any additional projects this month unless it added a line to my CV. I hate how harsh it sounds, as though I'm only doing things for the recognition they bring me. Rather, I suffer from a horrible case of Yes Mouth, where I immediately say yes to whatever is asked. Need a quilt block for a caring quilt? Sure! A PDF of that chapter you're too busy to copy and convert yourself? Alrighty! A guest lecture in your class about subject matter you're uncomfortable with? See you on Wednesday! 

Ah, the Yes Mouth. It's gotten me into a lot of trouble and by trouble I mean extra work that gets me no closer to my qualifying exams or data collection. See? Even typing that makes me feel shallow but can't help but feel that I need to begin being a little more selfish with my time if I'm going to get out of here by the end of next year. I need to start saying no. So I began asking myself the CV question before any given request and I can't say that I'm unhappy... I've been reading and writing more and have been slightly less stressed. 

Um. So, yeah.

Wow. It's been a while. 

Life is oh-so-daily at the moment, with a ridiculous amount of things to be done. I'm at a point of convergence where all the planning for the future and all the previous work collide. It's a messy space to be in, requiring many, many signatures, but it's a good space to be in. My program of studies is in the process of being signed and I'm spending a good portion of the day drafting possible qualifying exam questions. I'm within months of not only being done with classes but with changing my description of self from doctoral student to doctoral candidate. This is assuming, of course, that I pass my qualifying exams and my program of studies isn't rejected. 

I have no reason to believe it will be. I feel like I've done good work over the past three years. There is still so much more to be figured out but I'm in a good position to think through these next steps. 

Robot Unicorn Attack

Snow Day Goodies

The overnight snow managed to miss us, which is just as well. I have to head into the School of Ed in a few moments to put together a PPT, meet with students, and practice for this weekend's conference. It's Tuesday already - how do these things happen?

The downside to the snow day? I had baked for my students, homemade chocolate cupcakes and mocha buttercream from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook. No class means no students which means I have twenty-six cupcakes sitting around. I've been wandering though the house, trying to avoid grabbing random cupcakes as I pass through the kitchen. Whether you love her or hate her (I love her, not going to lie), Martha knows good things and these cupcakes are no different.

Ridiculously moist, the frosting gives a great bite them. Truly a grown up's cupcake. If you have the Handbook, the frosting recipe is way too much for approximately 30 cupcakes. I probably could have halved it and been fine. If you don't have the Handbook, I found similar recipes on MarthaStewart.com: cupcakes here, frosting here. Definitely worth trying. 

Off to trudge in the snow. The cupcakes will be coming with me. Someone has class today and I'm sure their students will enjoy the sweet treats. Be warm, peeps. 

Snow Day

Indiana had several bucket loads of snow dumped on it overnight, part the Snowpocalypse, covering everything in several inches of white stuff. If you know me, you know that I'm anything but averse to massive amounts of the white stuff. I totally dig it, particularly when it means I'm snowed in. (This last sentence assumes that I have a decent supply of milk and maintain power, fyi.) 

Today, however, was a teaching day and my class is right after lunch. Surely, the roads would be cleared by then, no? By noon, I had received eight emails and texts from students letting me know they were snowed in themselves. With one-third of my students unable to make it I made the call and spent the rest of class time throwing together a YouTube clip going over what I would have done in class that day. 

Oh, yes. There is nothing like going over MSV analysis on a YouTube clip. I'm looking away because our landlord was shoveling right then and gave me a bit of a start. 

I spent a good portion of the day working, although I did manage to work through two more of Lynda Barry's books. I love her and must make a note to self to write about why sometime soon. Also worked through a few rows on my Habitat, which I hoped to have ready for this weekend's trip to Pittsburgh but fear may be my airplane knitting. There just are not enough hours in the day. 

The snow's still coming down. I'm unsure it's stopped all day. I am perfectly okay with this, although I fear I shall have no choice but to venture out into the wider world tomorrow. And in preparation, I'll take my blueberry muffins out of the oven and venture off to bed. 

Happy Hearts Day

Happy Felted Wool Heart's Day! May it be delightful and find you surrounded by people you care for and care for you back.

Around and Wandering

My friends remind me the last semester of classes are difficult, mostly because you begin aching for your own work, your own readings, your own writing. I find myself aching to begin that work, imagining the difficulty that lies ahead but exhilarated by it at the same time. But first, yes first: classes. Two months left to go. Hold on, don't lose your cool.

The above is a bag I sewed for my friend J's birthday. She didn't have any tote bags and I had a stack of Amy Butler Midwest Modern sitting around and a hankering to attempt actual quilting on the sewing machine. It turned out really well - see more, including the back (my favorite detail) on my Photostream.

So much work to be done. Must return to it, but must get better about getting back here.

Strange Happenings

When I met with the possibly new roomies last week, Anne, the current roomie, created the above in an attempt to more fully inform of the pros and cons of living with me. Apparently, I dance like a fabulooous dancing loon yet there is nothing about my ability to break out into thematic song at random...

Those, however, are not the strange happenings to which I refer. And now, the rest of the story:

While in my CMDA class last week, I received an email from a nonprofit in Chicago asking how my research report was coming along. It was too pragmatic an email, too eloquently worded to be spam and, using my Google skillz that killz, discovered that both the nonprofit and the person who wrote the email were authentic. I've been known to forget an occasional reading, granted, but never an entire research report, especially when it is a research report in an area outside of elementary literacy. I sent a borderline hilarious email back about mistaken identity and got a borderline hilarious email in return about coincidence. Lovely people, really, although I'm still unsure about how my email address found its way into their address books.

I was also asked to be a keynote speaker at a conference, which is both flattering and confounding. I'm so excited to be asked, especially since last year's speaker was the Dean of the School of Education, but, really, I'm just an associate instructor. Regardless, I need to come up with some inspiring words and soon.

Refocus

The paperwhites sitting on our dining room table are in full bloom, pictured here in all their glory earlier this morning. 

What a wacky week: overly scheduled, ridiculously demanding, and fraught with insecurities. There wasn't a single day I didn't have at least two meetings and an entire list of to do to be accomplished. I guess that's the key to figuring out this last semester of coursework: how do I manage to finish up my own work while still fulfilling the requirements of my own classes? 

I've been stressing out about this more than a bit this week. A friend's dissertation defense, a meeting with possible roomies for the coming year. These are all events that remind me the end of this school year is swiftly coming, a school year in which I imagined I have a major portion of the work done for my dissertation next year. Granted, I'm ahead of the game, but not as far ahead as I would like. I need to find time to do more and do it better. Isn't that what everyone says... 

And I freaked out this week because I don't know where that time is going to come from. Do I give up knitting? Blogging? Reading? I get in five minutes here and ten minutes there of these activities, giving me possibly an extra hour a day. But that's the hour of the day that keeps me sane. I don't know where it's going to come from and I spent all Thursday night cleaning. The kitchen at the House of Whelmed has never been more clean. 

I know, in my head, it will all get done. I will pull some all-nighters and get. It. Done. But it's crushing at the moment. Every minute of every day is filled with something and while I have nothing against being industrious, I would like some time to breath. Or, at the very least, play with my new set of Sharpies. I'm unsure there is anything as cheerful as new Sharpies.