Apparently I have to submit a reappointment performance review by December of this year. Even though my appointment is fixed length and might not even exist come May. Also according to the chair of the department I should be looking for a job right now, even though I just finished up my old job last week and only began this one a month ago. I should also be trying to publish some of my work, or write a proposal for a book deal. At the very least I should be presenting at conferences and guest lecturing at local community events. I also need to be peer reviewed as I teach my classes, gather student evaluations to report out, even though I have no evaluations to gather as the semester has only just begun and I am brand new. All of this is necessary to look good on my performance review so that I can be reappointed (or not) to a job that may (or may not) exist.
But today I won't think too far down that road. Right now the sun is out, I have some reading to do, and warm coffee to drink. I'll prepare for my classes later on today, and think about the rest of it later. Sometimes procrastination is necessary for sanity.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Thursday, September 27, 2018
How Is It Almost The End Of The Week- Again?
Is my life on fast forward? Or is this just the way things are at my age? Don't tell me because I don't want to know. I am holding out hope that, at some point, my life with slow down and I will once again feel like a young twenty-something with all the time in the world.
Okay so I doubt I felt that way in my twenties, but almost three decades later it is easy to imagine I did. Like the people who want to go back in time, to a "better" America- to make it great again. That America never really existed did it? We, like the countries we live in, are all works in progress. I just wish sometimes the "progress" or lack-there-of, didn't seem to take place in the blink of an eye.
My classes seem to be settling in to some sort of rhythm I feel less stress about the material I have decided to cover and more in tune with what my students need. Now that I have a little space to breath I am exploring some options to play around with in class. We have a great digital media room so that I can sit in the middle of the class and students can configure desks around eight giant TV screens in the room. I want to have them create and present some time lines for the class.
Right now I am exploring Sutori I would love to hear feedback if anyone has used it.
I also found this Site which has a wonderful amount of primary sources for students to work with.
Hopefully I can find some time this weekend to investigate further.
I also intend to sip strong morning coffee at my little cabin in Lincoln as I listen to the loons (if they haven't left already) and figure out a way to slow time.
- I'll let you know how that goes.
Okay so I doubt I felt that way in my twenties, but almost three decades later it is easy to imagine I did. Like the people who want to go back in time, to a "better" America- to make it great again. That America never really existed did it? We, like the countries we live in, are all works in progress. I just wish sometimes the "progress" or lack-there-of, didn't seem to take place in the blink of an eye.
My classes seem to be settling in to some sort of rhythm I feel less stress about the material I have decided to cover and more in tune with what my students need. Now that I have a little space to breath I am exploring some options to play around with in class. We have a great digital media room so that I can sit in the middle of the class and students can configure desks around eight giant TV screens in the room. I want to have them create and present some time lines for the class.
Right now I am exploring Sutori I would love to hear feedback if anyone has used it.
I also found this Site which has a wonderful amount of primary sources for students to work with.
Hopefully I can find some time this weekend to investigate further.
I also intend to sip strong morning coffee at my little cabin in Lincoln as I listen to the loons (if they haven't left already) and figure out a way to slow time.
- I'll let you know how that goes.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Letting Life Be My Guide
I have been practicing trying to let go and let life happen. I wish I were better at it, but in wishing this were so I realize I am engaging in the struggle to "do" life rather than being "in" life. I need to let go of the struggle of wishing things were a certain way. This is very hard for me to do as I am a control minded person by nature. Not control in the sense that I think I can tell others what to do, but in the sense that I want things in my own life to be a certain way. I have a strong tendency to push myself to reach goals and once reached to take on more challenges. In some ways this has been a positive in my life. It has seen me through some rough times and led me to where I am today. As a high school dropout at 16 and a mother and wife at 17 I was the last person anyone expected to go on to college, let alone graduate school. I have been lucky enough to have the support of my children and husband as I determinedly pursued my education. I have also felt lucky that I am a stubborn person and do not like to accept the word no. Now at 47 looking back on my journey I am beginning to see the other side of being a driven person. I have lived with a tremendous amount of anxiety and worry about the things I cannot control, and let's face it there is much in life we cannot control. And by much I mean really everything. I tend to put up a wall of thoughts between myself and life, I spend more time analyzing, predicting, imagining, and even reminiscing, than I do just sitting and letting life happen. Today I need to plan lessons for the week, I need to catch up on classwork for the ERL class, I need to organize my closet, I need to prep for Early College meetings next week. I have my list sitting beside me ready to check off each item, but more than anything on that list right now what I need to do is go sit outside and listen to the sounds of life that are happening right now. The life that is outside of my own head.
This is one of my favorite blogs . Mary always seems to post just what I need to hear.
Friday, September 21, 2018
Transitions
Transitions are hard. I am cleaning out my office, for the third time in four years, and wondering what I have gotten myself into and how I can possibly do this thing I am apparently now doing.
My first full time position with UM began four years ago when I accepted a position in Explorations and Foundations as an academic and career exploration advisor. I moved from my office over in Steven's Hall where I had been advising as a graduate student in CLAS advising. The move was not far, just a short walk past Memorial Union and Folger library, past the green house and York dining, and up a little hill to the building which housed the Foundations and Explorations program. It was a former grad school housing that had been turned into office space. In this space I discovered some wonderful friend and colleagues, all of whom I am still in touch with today. I found a wonderful mentor in my supervisor, she encouraged me during those early days of my doctoral work, when I had already begun to think I was in over my head. She told me that her goal was to have me complete it by the time she retired. When she retired I still hadn't completed it and I was off on a new adventure this time in Belfast at Hutchinson Center UMaine. As I packed up my office and shared pizza with my supervisor and another advisor (who incidentally had become a very close friend) I realized just how much I was going to miss everyone and panicked that I had made a bad choice.
In fact it was not really a choice as the Foundations part of the program was being phased out and I had the option of moving back to CLAS advising, where Explorations would be housed. The team as I knew it would no longer exist. Two of my colleagues had gotten married (of course we all went to their wedding and danced!) and moved away for new jobs. Two of my other colleagues had moved to other positions at UM in different colleges. Two would be staying on and joining CLAS back in Steven's Hall. I felt like it was the right time for me to move on and begin another journey, this time a little closer to home. I packed up my office and filled my car to the brim and drove off, away from campus but closer to home. My first day in my new position I learned that my supervisor had made my new director promised to support me in finishing my doctorate. She was not going to let her retirement or my changing positions erase that goal she has set for me.
I slowly moved in to my new office and made it home. It was much larger than my old office and felt empty and foreign for a few months. I was closer to home and not used to leaving work and arriving to a busy, sometimes messy kitchen after just a few minutes of leaving my work. I was not sure I liked this quick and abrupt transition. Having to commute to decompress had become part of my habit. I continued to work as an advisor and work on my thesis. My first year came and went and still no Phd. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the work load, being a student and a full time employee was not easy. Not to mentioned a two grand babies had been born in that same year. Despite the feelings of overwhelm and sensing that I was dropping more balls than I could count I eventually did finish that thesis. In the same month I defended, another grand baby was born and my mother in law died. Life (and death) seemed to just keep rolling along no matter what.
The day I defend my thesis and secured the approval of my committee I walked out of that defense a Dr. and I fell apart a little. I went straight to my friend's office on campus. He was directly behind Steven's Hall (where my defense was held) in Shibles. He asked me if I passed my defense, I nodded and began to cry. He hugged me and told me it was OK. After I dried my eyes and collected myself we laughed. No matter what it is always best to end in laughter.
What should have been the happiest days of my life, or at least the most relieved, felt flat and anti-climatic. I had entered a new phase of my life, the post-doc phase, and I had no clue what I was going to do. I knew I needed to work, or at least do research in my field. I felt deflated, old, tired, and directionless. What would I do with my time? How would I integrate back into my "old" life. Could I go back 12 years and start again. I just felt like a stranger in my own skin. All the congratulation and claps on the back only made it feel worse. For the first first months all I wanted to do was cry every chance I had to be alone and think about my life.
Then is happened again. A job opportunity popped up. A chance to teach history this time. The chance of a lifetime. Living in Maine opportunities to actually use a Phd without relocating are very rare. The were of course a few problems with the position, it was only a year appointment (renewal contingent on funding) it was also located in Portland and Gorham, about a two hour drive from home. But I loved the idea of being part of a campus community again, of working with students, of teaching history, researching and learning to be part of a faculty. All of this was so exciting. I jumped right in. Now I am packing my office in Belfast getting ready for a move to another office, yet again.
My office at USM is tiny and sparse. The two days a week I have been using it it has been extremely hot. The vent over my desk makes a strange whooshing sound that holds the promise of making me go insane if I listen long enough, like the effects of windmills on people who live too close. It feels foreign and far away. I feel in over my head. I feel worried that I have made a bad choice. I feel anxiety over this new transition. Yet- inside I know it is a good move for me. I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I will make new friends and explore new opportunities for collaboration. I will become familiar with the campus and the community. Portland is a wonderful area to discover. Looking back I know that I might not have felt like I knew where I was going. I might have felt like I was wandering, but in the end I have never been lost. I am still right here.
My first full time position with UM began four years ago when I accepted a position in Explorations and Foundations as an academic and career exploration advisor. I moved from my office over in Steven's Hall where I had been advising as a graduate student in CLAS advising. The move was not far, just a short walk past Memorial Union and Folger library, past the green house and York dining, and up a little hill to the building which housed the Foundations and Explorations program. It was a former grad school housing that had been turned into office space. In this space I discovered some wonderful friend and colleagues, all of whom I am still in touch with today. I found a wonderful mentor in my supervisor, she encouraged me during those early days of my doctoral work, when I had already begun to think I was in over my head. She told me that her goal was to have me complete it by the time she retired. When she retired I still hadn't completed it and I was off on a new adventure this time in Belfast at Hutchinson Center UMaine. As I packed up my office and shared pizza with my supervisor and another advisor (who incidentally had become a very close friend) I realized just how much I was going to miss everyone and panicked that I had made a bad choice.
In fact it was not really a choice as the Foundations part of the program was being phased out and I had the option of moving back to CLAS advising, where Explorations would be housed. The team as I knew it would no longer exist. Two of my colleagues had gotten married (of course we all went to their wedding and danced!) and moved away for new jobs. Two of my other colleagues had moved to other positions at UM in different colleges. Two would be staying on and joining CLAS back in Steven's Hall. I felt like it was the right time for me to move on and begin another journey, this time a little closer to home. I packed up my office and filled my car to the brim and drove off, away from campus but closer to home. My first day in my new position I learned that my supervisor had made my new director promised to support me in finishing my doctorate. She was not going to let her retirement or my changing positions erase that goal she has set for me.
I slowly moved in to my new office and made it home. It was much larger than my old office and felt empty and foreign for a few months. I was closer to home and not used to leaving work and arriving to a busy, sometimes messy kitchen after just a few minutes of leaving my work. I was not sure I liked this quick and abrupt transition. Having to commute to decompress had become part of my habit. I continued to work as an advisor and work on my thesis. My first year came and went and still no Phd. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed with the work load, being a student and a full time employee was not easy. Not to mentioned a two grand babies had been born in that same year. Despite the feelings of overwhelm and sensing that I was dropping more balls than I could count I eventually did finish that thesis. In the same month I defended, another grand baby was born and my mother in law died. Life (and death) seemed to just keep rolling along no matter what.
The day I defend my thesis and secured the approval of my committee I walked out of that defense a Dr. and I fell apart a little. I went straight to my friend's office on campus. He was directly behind Steven's Hall (where my defense was held) in Shibles. He asked me if I passed my defense, I nodded and began to cry. He hugged me and told me it was OK. After I dried my eyes and collected myself we laughed. No matter what it is always best to end in laughter.
What should have been the happiest days of my life, or at least the most relieved, felt flat and anti-climatic. I had entered a new phase of my life, the post-doc phase, and I had no clue what I was going to do. I knew I needed to work, or at least do research in my field. I felt deflated, old, tired, and directionless. What would I do with my time? How would I integrate back into my "old" life. Could I go back 12 years and start again. I just felt like a stranger in my own skin. All the congratulation and claps on the back only made it feel worse. For the first first months all I wanted to do was cry every chance I had to be alone and think about my life.
Then is happened again. A job opportunity popped up. A chance to teach history this time. The chance of a lifetime. Living in Maine opportunities to actually use a Phd without relocating are very rare. The were of course a few problems with the position, it was only a year appointment (renewal contingent on funding) it was also located in Portland and Gorham, about a two hour drive from home. But I loved the idea of being part of a campus community again, of working with students, of teaching history, researching and learning to be part of a faculty. All of this was so exciting. I jumped right in. Now I am packing my office in Belfast getting ready for a move to another office, yet again.
My office at USM is tiny and sparse. The two days a week I have been using it it has been extremely hot. The vent over my desk makes a strange whooshing sound that holds the promise of making me go insane if I listen long enough, like the effects of windmills on people who live too close. It feels foreign and far away. I feel in over my head. I feel worried that I have made a bad choice. I feel anxiety over this new transition. Yet- inside I know it is a good move for me. I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I will make new friends and explore new opportunities for collaboration. I will become familiar with the campus and the community. Portland is a wonderful area to discover. Looking back I know that I might not have felt like I knew where I was going. I might have felt like I was wandering, but in the end I have never been lost. I am still right here.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Week Two and Still No Clue
I am trying my best to adjust. I spent so much of my time focused on finishing my dissertation that I think I forgot how to have a life. The weekends are the hardest. The years I spent feeling guilt for not working on my writing during a nice weekend, or for hating myself on a Monday for the time I spent procrastinating on Sunday have become embedded in my psyche. Can a person have PTSD from completing a PhD I wonder? Turns out I am not the only one who feels like this. A quick Google search for PhD- PTSD brings this, and then this. I have a feeling there are plenty more stories out there like that.
It is Sunday night and that familiar feeling of dread tugs at me. I know that my work is unfinished, that I am not prepared for the coming week. I have spent the better part of this weekend prepping for my classes, but I am not satisfied. I know I must have left some important information off of my powerpoint, or that the videos I have chosen for the class are not quite right. Should I really be relied upon to teach history? There is so much I don't know. It's that imposter syndrome creeping in on me again. I am so good at doubting my capabilities. But yet I keep going. If there is anything I have learned over the years it is that, just keep going, even if I don't have a clue what I am doing. I know I will somehow figure it out along the way.
It is Sunday night and that familiar feeling of dread tugs at me. I know that my work is unfinished, that I am not prepared for the coming week. I have spent the better part of this weekend prepping for my classes, but I am not satisfied. I know I must have left some important information off of my powerpoint, or that the videos I have chosen for the class are not quite right. Should I really be relied upon to teach history? There is so much I don't know. It's that imposter syndrome creeping in on me again. I am so good at doubting my capabilities. But yet I keep going. If there is anything I have learned over the years it is that, just keep going, even if I don't have a clue what I am doing. I know I will somehow figure it out along the way.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Post #1
As I sit here in my new office on this early September day, in what feels like 90 degree humidity (my phone tells me its only 80 degrees), the windows frame a campus that I do not yet recognize. Although it has a look of familiarity, this is not UMaine. I have just come from teaching a history class where it looked like the students were either dying from the heat, or from my lecture, or the combination of the two. Everything in my life feels new and confusing, including this blog. That paired with the intense heat of this office in which I am now writing, and the long commute that I will have back home tonight leads me to inquire: "What fresh hell is this?"
I guess I mean it in the best possible way.
I guess I mean it in the best possible way.
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