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In a recent post (now redacted) I identified my graduate school. I did this because I wanted to write about the utterly horrific things going on there. I did so knowing the risks of letting my finely crafted anonymity slip even a little bit.
What I did not anticipate, even in my most paranoid imaginings, was that this post would come to the attention of several professors from my graduate program. Who contacted me. Through this blog.
They contacted me out of genuine concern, a shared sense of outrage, a desire to help. The situation at the grad. school is grave and they are clearly working to address it. I applaud them and am doing my own part to help.
But seriously, did they have to read my blog?
I’ve always thought (back to my paranoia) that the worst thing that could happen would be for my blog to be discovered by my graduate students. I had not taken into consideration: faculty from my own graduate program — faculty I may or may not have studied with — who may or may not have actually served on my dissertation committee — who may or may not be people I admire, who I want to impress, who may still have to write me letters of recommendation.
((Cringe))
I like to think that these individuals have more serious concerns than my little ol’ blog. But, I know what I would do if I found a blog written by a former or current grad student in my program … I’d email it to all of my friends/colleagues and say, “Oh my god. Can you believe this?” And, yes, I think I would spend some time poking around the blog trying to crack the mystery of the blogger’s identity.
Given the circumstances at the grad. school, my concerns about my anonymity appear petty — even to me. I know it’s all pretty meaningless in the end. But, I do feel like my blog voice has been impinged. I can’t shake the fear that one of my own professors is reading this — or scrolling back through some of my more self-indulgent, navel-gazing posts and thinking “This is one of OUR graduates? How disappointing.”
So, if I don’t post for a while … now you know why. I’ve got a royal case of blogxiety.
And …. (( poof ))
What do you do when, in the middle of your home yoga practice, you hear from downstairs the sound of your dog retching horribly and then the unmistakable wet sound of vomit?
Do you:
a) Continue to calmly practice, heeding your guru’s admonition that you should be able to practice in the middle of Times Square, so focused and steady is your mind’s attention.
b) Leap up and run downstairs to clean up the mess, not only out of concern for your dog but because, frankly, your dog is gross and there’s a good chance she will eat her vomit if you don’t get to it first.
c) Half-measures: Run downstairs to clean up the mess, only to discover that the dog managed to hit the rug with her extra liquid-y vomit, so only succeed in mostly cleaning it up. Return to your yoga mat but be unable to clear your mind, thinking: “breathe … now, in addition to cleaning the kitchen, making dinner, doing a load of laundry, and grading at least 5 more papers tonight … gotta grade at least 5 more … breathe … or how else will I be able to return these papers by Thursday? … breathe … now I also have to get the vacuum cleaner out and vacuum the rug … breathe … dammit …”
Yeah, you know which one I did.
Om, everybody.
Oh Book, you are like a very bad relationship I cannot get out of.
You are like that boy/girl friend who’s always hanging around, showing up at inappropriate times, calling intermittently and late at night — but always expects to be the center of attention. Always demands my full concentration. Takes and takes but never gives.
When I finally find some time to devote to you, you pout about being neglected and I have to slowly coax you back. I have to lavish you with attention even when I don’t want to, just to get anything done.
I complain to all of my friends about you — and have been complaining for years. They are sick and tired of hearing about how much you suck. They tell me, “Dump his ass!” But I can’t dump you — we’ve been together for so long now, I don’t want to have devoted all this time for nothing! They tell me, “Don’t let her treat you that way! You deserve better.” But I don’t feel like I deserve better — I feel like I got what I deserve: a crummy book. Other people have beautiful books, or smart books, or funny books. Mine sucks — but it’s the best I can hope for.
I wonder where this relationship is going. Will you be there for me when I really need you — or will you crap out on me in the end, after everything? Will my other relationships/friendships survive this tumultuous affair, or will I alienate everyone else in my life for you? Will I discover that I actually hate you — maybe when I’m standing over you with a bloody knife? Or will you keep me at your beck and call forever?
Oh Book, I really, really want to break up.
The flu has hit my university hard. I’ve got it. Most of my students have it. My email box is filling up with pleading, whining, exculpatory emails. This one just has to be shared.
In it’s entirety … no salutation, no signature …
[quote] i been sick past few days with high fever,cough,nose bleeds, sweating when wake, sore throat. i just know getting over the worst of it. and could not concentrate fully on my work. i will take the points off for the assignment will i be able to turn it into u tomorrow to you office. [unquote]
I should feel more charitable towards this student, I suppose, but I all feel is irritation at the fact that he can’t even be bothered to capitalize, spell, or even write out words. Who does he think he is? Prince?
Geez. The flu makes me cranky.
I may never again have a chance to use the word “otolaryngology” in a sentence so you better bet I am gonna make the most of it.
For the past few years, I’ve been having trouble with my voice when I teach. My throat gets sore, my neck, shoulders, and face get tense, my voice gets scratchy, weak, and strained. Needless to say, the longer period of time I teach, the worse it gets. But, I began to get really worried when I was suffering after teaching only one class.
I’ve had to develop my own strategies for dealing with this problem so I could do my job: drinking water or tea constantly during class (and dashing to the bathroom between classes), planning lots of in-class discussion or other activities that enabled me to speak less, and creatively juggling of my teaching schedule so I could minimize the number of hours I am in the classroom on any single day.
And still, I suffered.
It seems patently clear that I don’t know how to use my voice. I have never had any vocal training of any kind, either musical or theatrical. I am very introverted and, maybe as a result, my voice tends to be pretty soft — I am designed for the talking softly in a quiet room to one other individual, not the projecting outward in front of a large classroom. I knew that I needed to learn how to better project and use my voice so I don’t damage myself — but I didn’t know what to do about it. I spent a lot of time last year trying to find a vocal coach, to no avail. Finally, someone recommended I see a medical professional. Who even knew there was such a thing?
This week I went to my very own otolaryngologist. It was a fascinating experience. He stuck a metal tube with a camera in it inside my mouth, while holding onto my tongue with his fingers, and asking me to make sounds not unlike pig squeals. It was even less sexy that it sounds. But, in the end, he verified that my vocal cords are not damaged (yea!) but that my throat muscles are being improperly used and are tense and strained. So, he has prescribed a series of speech therapy sessions that are intended to teach me (finally, after over a decade of teaching) how to properly speak in front of a classroom.
I’ll keep you posted on what I learn, in the off chance that any of you suffer from the same ailments — which, likely you do, as my otolaryngologist says that teachers make up a significant portion of his clientele.
The fact that these lessons are being covered by my health insurance is another piece of good news. I am so accustomed to the fact that I don’t get any perks with my job and that I actually end up spending a great deal of my paltry income on work related stuff (printer ink, anyone?) that the idea that, for once, a work-related expense is being covered by my work is … well, nice.
Remember, teachers, what my otolaryngologist says: Water is the best assistant to the public speaker. So, drink up!
