Intermission - Winter Break

 

searched for the source, but can only find various unattributed uses

For a while that was my argument - it is too late to start. I did the math. It would take 3 or more years to get the doctoral degree, no guarantee of a tenure-track position immediately afterward, so tack on another couple of years, 5 years before applying for tenure, a 2 year process before earning tenure...a solid 12 years from starting the doctoral degree to getting tenure, theoretically the final goal.

That means there is no way I am getting tenure before I am 60, which sounds so incredibly far away, and also pretty close to retirement age.

So, let's give another time cushion and say I am comfortable tenured at age 62. This is the same year I could start receiving my Social Security benefits, so I would be at the level of employment which is the goal in academia in the same year I could first retire.

That sounds pretty weird.

Now, I have colleagues who do not retire until well into their 80s, so I could go 20 years or so as a tenured professor. 

I don't know, though, if that is what I want.

I have to give this some serious thought - at what age do I want to retire? What do I want to do when I retire? 

Right now, a friend of mine is traipsing the globe, exploring all sorts of wondrous places as he goes on cruise after cruise in his retirement. I get to live vicariously through his travels as he posts pictures of glaciers, mountains, deserts, ancient ruins, quaint villages. In retirement I could go to all the places I have wished to visit over the years, see all the architecture I have studied.

Once, I had a retirement dream of opening my own little coffee shop. It would be unique in one, distinct aspect. I would have a library of books available for customers to peruse - and annotate. Annotation would be encouraged, with pencils and pens at each table. As you sat in my cafe and read, you would see not only the words of the author, but the thoughts of other readers.

With no work responsibilities and my children grown and off on their own life adventures, I could dedicate my time to a charity, something I deeply believe in.

In all of these dreams, of course, there is my husband along with me, and his thoughts and interests to consider. The travel idea would definitely be one we could joyously share. I can't see him working in my coffee shop - he doesn't even drink coffee - but the annotated books might appeal to him. Working together for a charity is something I can see.

This all relies on my body holding up and allowing enjoyment in retirement. What will the chronic pain do between now and then? I'd love to think it will go away, that either it will fade on its own or doctors will find a solution. I dreamed the other night that I got a job offer in another country, with an enticement that this country had a successful surgery for my chronic pain.

Not bad, huh? Just a dream, though. It is only speculation - all of it is. Planning ahead relies on so many variables.

So why not plan for the best case scenario, the dream that everything will go my way?

I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Day 14 of Classes - the semester ends.

 Time to celebrate! The end is nigh!

Seriously, every student should celebrate the successful end of a semester. It is no small accomplishment. Semesters are fifteen intense weeks of learning, discovery, and demonstrating that you were present and awake for all of that.

Graduation is tomorrow for my student teachers. I'll be there in my Masters regalia, no doubt thinking ahead to graduation in May of 2026 when I will be able to wear my new Doctoral regalia to celebrate my students. (Yeah, I'm thinking less of my own pending graduation in favor of theirs, but I assure you, looking forward to the day that a colleague of mine drapes that hood over my shoulders is pretty exciting).

But I won't get ahead of myself. I have three spring semesters, two summers, and two fall semesters left before then. I know I will be a different person, having those years of study and growth behind me. One semester alone has left me different.

I did have some doubts in August. Had I made the right choice? Would I be able to balance classes, teaching, momming, spousing, and coping with chronic pain? Would I find the workload overwhelming? Would I actually like any of the people I would be in classes with for the next three years? Would the unexpected come along and thrown me off course?

That last one is still a possibility, but I can definitively say that I did make the right choice, that I handle the workload, that I can balance this new aspect of my life in with everything else. In some ways, I am more efficient than I have been in previous semesters. Knowing that I have my own reading for classes, and my own assignments to complete, I have been on top of grading in a way I rarely am. Teaching writing is wonderful, but I usually procrastinate when it comes to grading. Having so much more on my own To-Do list has made me work a bit harder in all areas of my life.

I joked in my application to this program that one of the reasons I wanted to get the degree was so I could finally stop telling students not to call me Dr. Hyson. I wrote it as a joke, but it was not entirely one. A fellow student presented on the toll contingency has on adjuncts. I almost passed over reading their poster because it was too real in some ways. It's like the way I can't watch scenes where characters severely injure their knees because I know that pain so well.

Will contingency go away after I add that three more letters after my name - Sarah Hyson, MS, MA, EdD? Nope, no guarantee there. Many, many adjuncts have their terminal degree. Some of them are teaching the courses in this doctoral program.

But the ceiling will disappear. I will be eligible for conversion to tenure-track, even if it never happens.

Day 13 of Classes

 I had fun making people angry.

Okay, so it was a righteous anger, and not so much fun as a satisfying result. Poster sessions at conferences are always interesting. Apart from the values of professionals representing a whole bunch of information on a small space, there is always a wide variety of information.

This is one of the reasons I assign something like this to my students (yes, a recurring theme in my reflections this semester). I changed it up a bit for my students this time around. Early in the semester I put them in groups based on their research topics, each group having a thread (or a couple of threads), linking them together. Granted, some of the threads were as hard to see as that spider web on a hike that you walk right through, but they were there. Those groups just had to stretch a bit to find - or wander through the woods of their research before accidentally running into their threads.

When it came time to present, I gave each group two goals - they had to convey their topic and the results of their research while also finding those threads and showing the synthesis of their topics. I love tweaking this end-of-semester presentation every year, so I can definitively say it was the best semester of presentations yet.

So, of course, I was thinking about how I assign similar experiences to my students while a student in my doctoral courses. I like being reminded what it is like being on the presenter end rather than the professor end.

Granted, the presentations at the doctoral level are a little different from what my undergrads present, but I see the same commitment to inform at both levels, the same passion for a chosen topic.

My passion was evident throughout the semester, as I began really working on what I hope will be the foundation for my dissertation. Seeing other people get angry when they saw my poster, saw the statistics, saw the lack of progress over decades, was not just satisfying, it further pushed me to create the change for which I see a desperate need.

Even without classes, my winter is going to be busy.

I'll take a moment to talk about some of that other information I saw from the rest of the doctoral students in my cohort. Several addressed the experience of marginalized communities in varying aspects of education. This included the mental health effects, which was a linking thread to several other presentations (they could have had a panel in my class, too). Other students focused on subject-specific topics: literacy, reading, math, music, play-based learning. Like I said, there was a wide variety, which meant I was able to learn a lot in a short time.

This should serve as a reminder - always stop by the poster sessions at conferences.

Day 12 of Classes

I tend to be wary of self-assessments that ask you to take a quiz and then tell you what kind of person you are. There is an aspect which is interesting - will my existent thoughts of who I am come through in the results of the test? Might the results be skewed because of my self-image projecting onto how I answer the questions, whether or not I am aware of this happening?

In my high school psychology class, we took a test that was supposed to show whether you were right or left brain dominant - right indicating creativity and left indicating logic. The scale of the test was a -20 indicating completely right-brained dominance and a +20 complete left-brained. Our teacher had us form an arc in the classroom, lining up according to our scores. As all my classmates finished sorting themselves out, I asked the teacher whether I should go out to the courtyard and stand there. I had scored a -40. He double-checked my scoring, not believing me initially, but confirmed that I done the match correctly and achieved a score he had never seen before.

I have taken the full Myers-Briggs personality test several times - the full test of over 200 questions, not a set of 20 quick questions on a quiz website - in part because a friend of mine is a certified Myers Briggs practitioner. When taking the test, I can intuit for many of the questions the result each answer leads to. So is it possible that because I see myself as introverted, I am more likely to choose answers which I know indicate introversion? It is certainly possible.

Then there are all the articles out there claiming to debunk such tests.

This was on my mind as I took the Gallup Strengths Assessment, which leaves me wondering whether my internal sense of self had any effect on the results. Taking that one step further, would it matter if it did? After all, my own sense of self could be entirely accurate. Regardless, I found the results intriguing.

No surprise, I ended up being something of an oddball. Most, if not all, of my classmates had their strengths spread out over at least two of the areas, while all of mine fall under Strategic Thinking. 

No matter the validity, or whether any bias skewed the results, I found the answers aligned with what I think of myself. It tells me I crave knowledge and enjoy time alone to read a book, that I see patterns and create solutions to problems, that I am inspired by the future and what could be, that I generate innovative ideas.

Whether or not it is accurate, I would not mind embodying these traits.

Day 11 of Classes

 This post is a little late - but I have a solid reason.

Most of these, so far, answer a prompt for one of the courses I am currently enrolled in. This prompt asks about positionality and networking. My brief comment on positionality - writing about that is easy for me. I write personal reflection regularly, so putting it in the form of a statement regarding my research topic did not cause anxiety or stress on my part.

Networking, though.

Here are my reasons for delaying this post:

1. As an introvert and almost certainly neurodiverse person, I despise networking.
2. Networking events tend to exhaust me, so a little distance makes writing about them easier and results in a piece with less bias.
3. I had another networking event on the horizon - the National Council for Teachers of English (NCTE) conference.

The event with only the students and professors of the doctoral program was okay. I was lucky to be seated on the edge of everything, rather in the middle of everyone talking, which makes a significant difference when it comes to noise. I did learn from the event that a recent doctoral student in the program wrote a dissertation similar to what I intend. This valuable piece of information will lead me to sources I can use.

The much more difficult networking event was NCTE. I usually avoid conferences - the sound, the people, the food, the lights, my chronic pain. (Seriously, I know it was Tom Hanks speaking, but did the ballroom really need to feel like a rock concert beforehand? I was already excited to see and hear him; there was no need to amp it up.) With all the reasons I find conferences anywhere from uncomfortable to downright distressing, I only go if I have a really good reason - like a presentation I am giving, in this case a roundtable on "Reading and Writing for Social Change."

I enjoy the sessions where I can sit in a smallish room and learn, discuss, engage in some activity. I enjoy getting a chance to talk with colleagues and friends I do not see often. For this conference, I got to see my sibling, who only lives 90 minutes from the venue, which was one of the highlights of this conference. While these things are wonderful, they generally are not reason enough to get on a plane, stay in a hotel, and attend the conference - and pay for all of it (or most, as sometimes my institution covers part of this cost).

Last weekend, though, I ended up accidentally networking, which is the best kind.

Somehow I ended up in a room with several people in leadership roles for NCTE (I was not the only non-leader there). They included me in the discussion, part of which was introductions with what we do professionally. This meant I ended up telling them about my research with the goal of creating federal legislation to protect and support LGBTQ+ students.

And one of the people in the room happens to be an editor for a journal which publishes LGBTQ+ related research.

When I was young, one of my favorite words was serendipity - in part because the first syllable has the same pronunciation as my name. It remains one of my favorites, but more for the concept than the morphology. The unlooked for treasure. Serendipitous moments stand out in my mind, like the one I experienced at NCTE.

One of other favorites is synergy, that idea that the combination of things creates a whole greater than the sum of its parts. I find that it often goes hand-in-hand with serendipity.

I did not attend NCTE looking to network. I planned to meet some author, listen to some amazing speakers, spend time with cool people, check out the exhibit hall, but not network. Networking, though it is a primary element of conferences like this, was not among my expectations. I had no intention of putting myself out there and talking to a bunch of people I don't know. My introversion and anxiety make the idea horrid.

But then I end up doing it anyway. Serendipity and Synergy.

It's the only way I ever network.

Day 10 of Classes

We are just past the week I always describe as the worst week of the semester. In Week 10 it feels like the semester will never end, and then in Week 11 (this week), it suddenly feels like the semester is rushing to an end. Work is piling up for students and professors alike. Those of us who teach writing have pages upon pages of student writing to read. But the fun part... student presentations.

Years ago, I had a student standing in front of class, stuttering their way through a presentation, face turning red with embarrassment. I thought to myself in that moment, I am torturing this poor kid. I decided then that I would change the way I had students present their work. After all, there are so many ways that academics present, why not offer some of those methods to my students?

For a couple of years, I had students create conference posters. I invited other professors to come to their final presentation, see what my students were working on, and ask them questions. Another year, I had students present as panels, sitting before the class in a group, but providing their individual information and answering questions.

During COVID, and for a few classes after, I had my research writing students working on one project as an entire class. The class divided into teams at the end of the semester depending on their strengths and interests, which meant that just a few of them were speaking during the final presentation (which also included some other professors), though all were available to answer questions.

Then I hit on the method I am using now - my presentation café. This year, because of the way I have designed my research writing course, I am calling it the Presentation Market. Each group of students - my Guilds - will set up a table as a group to share their research with the class. They can use tri-fold boards, posters, handouts, or even lead the class in an activity. Whatever they choose, they will work as a group. (Also, since we meet at 8am, there will be BYO coffee and donuts, but I may bake some scones and bring them in.)

I ask my students to present their writing every semester, regardless of the way I do so. Since I ask them to present, they may wonder how often I present, or which methods I prefer.

Oddly, most of my presentations of academic work took place during COVID. Before then, I had presented at the Mid-Atlantic Writing Center Association conference, but did little else. It was during the pandemic that I found I had a lot to contribute. I presented at RECAP with my partner-in-crime Amy about our work combining the expertise of librarian and writing professor to model collaboration in the writing classroom. We are talking now about another RECAP application. I gave my presentation on the current book banning phenomenon to a local audience, for the organization Chester County Marching Forward, and a national audience, for the organization Red, Wine, and Blue, speaking about the history, the current trend, and how to combat book bans.

One week from tomorrow I am leading a roundtable at NCTE (National Council for Teachers of English Conference) on Reading and Writing for Social Change, with a focus on LGBTQ+ students. This one has me a little nervous, as it is my first roundtable, but I know it will go well. I'll be surrounded by my fellow West Chester Writing Project Teacher Leaders as part of this group session.

You may infer from all of this that presenting my words, my thoughts, is a place where I am exceptionally comfortable. To some degree, yes. I have been performing since I was six-years-old. I've performed in musicals, plays (I'm a Shakespeare fan), operas, choirs, vocal ensembles, band concerts, and marching band competitions. For ten or so years I was a model, primarily in hair shows. I am a teacher, speaking in front of people almost daily. I have even led church services - an annual poetry service, an LGBTQ+ pride service, and a service which blended the ideas of historic preservation, biology, and faith (UU churches have some really interesting services). Starting at age 13, I have spoken in front of school boards to counter book banning.

All of this indicates comfort on the stage.  

However, there is significant difference between performing someone else's words, playing or singing someone else's music, speaking in front of your own community, and revealing the huge amount of work you have put into academic studies, especially if you are challenging well-established ideas or speaking on controversial subjects. 

So, yes, I am experienced speaking in front of people. I get a rush from a successful performance or from seeing a student's eyes light up in that "ah-ha" moment. I will always, though, have that last-minute nervousness which comes before I step on the stage, before I teach a class for the first time, before I begin speaking about my research areas.

That nervousness is part of what makes the success feel so amazing in the end.

Image from: https://live.staticflickr.com/2228/2089475191_8e681d0e79_b.jpg

Day 7 of Classes

Research Cartography

That's what I call it for my research writing class this semester. I designed the class to be a quest for knowledge, with a path through the land of Hysonia. 

Linear planning for writing has never felt comfortable for me. Outlines of the sort I had to create starting sometime in elementary school and all the way through high school - you know, the ones that use Roman numerals and Arabic numerals to provide an orderly plan for a paper - always felt unnatural. Creating them was a chore. My brain wanted to skip ahead, to dance backwards, to jump from one spot to another.

The first time I created a concept map was wondrous.

So, as I taught research writing semester after semester, I had my students writing literature reviews - using just two or three articles. I provided those standard linear outlines - two of them with different ways to organize the writing, expecting that most of my students had linear ways of thinking, that it was the dominant form of thinking.

Only they rarely managed to create synthesis - which was the whole purpose (or a primary purpose, anyway) - of the assignment. I wanted to see them question the prevailing ideas on their topic, making connections, finding contradictions, but seeing that in student writing was rare. It was frustrating, but rather than getting irritated with the students, I looked at my own practice. After all, when most of your students are failing to accomplish the task you set for them, it is probably not their fault.

I examined how I was teaching them synthesis and experimented a little. I brought in Epic Rap Battles of History. Using this to demonstrate the concept of synthesis was fun, for me and my students. They got it, they could replicate it, but they did not fully transfer the knowledge to their literature reviews. More showed synthesis than before, but they were still in the minority.

So I scrapped the assignment and decided to approach this an entirely new way. Behold, the Literature Review Poster! I collaborated with my library partner-in-crime Amy Pajewski, and we found a succinct 6-step method for creating literature reviews. I took that and made it a visual project. Students met at the Innovation Media Center (IMC) instead of the classroom. There, we had access to crafting supplies and could stretch out and use large tables for our work.

I had students find the primary themes in their peer-reviewed articles, print the articles, play with scissors (cutting out quotes which they found important), gluing the quotes to large poster paper, then writing and drawing all over it. I had them choose one color for writing connections, places where articles agreed with each other. Another color was for differences, conflict. Yet another was for the questions that came to their minds while comparing the articles. They repeated this with the thesis or purpose statement of each article and their methodologies. Essential in the process - keeping track of which quote came from which article, as they would likely use these in their writing later and would need citation.

A few professors in the English department have seen me working on this project with students, primarily when they come in for observations for my teaching evaluations. At least one asked if they could steal the idea for their classroom - of course! Use it. If you are reading, you have my full permission.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that when we started working on a literature review in my doctoral courses and they told us to map our review with the emerging themes, I was amused. I had even starting my own mapping in advance, as it was already forming in my head and I needed to make sure I captured those ideas before they ran away. I used the concept I created for my students, with only an inkling that this was pretty much what we would be doing for class.

And here I thought I had so been original in my idea.

Unlike the work I am engaging in now, I do not then have my students write a full literature review. They demonstrate their grasp of synthesis and their understanding of the articles by creating the poster. Sometimes I have them create it digitally - pretty easy on Google Slides.

As I gazed around the room last night, seeing my classmates work on easel paper on the walls, I thought of my own students, and how fascinating parallel development is.

By the way, if you want to work on digital mind mapping, I highly recommend LucidChart. My Literature Review mapping in progress:

An Aside - An Ode to Research Writing

 I am in my class right now, modeling writing while my research writing students write. The English department asks students in the course to write their own definition of research writing which evolves over the course of the semester, becoming more detailed and nuanced, including references to what they learned in class and read.

Rather than engage in other writing of my own, I decided I would contemplate what I am asking them to do - create a personal definition of research writing which references all I have learned in the various courses on writing that have been part of my education.

Students are often amazed when I tell them I struggled with writing when I was their age.

Creative writing was never a problem. Tell me to write a poem, a story, a personal essay, and I could always jump right into drafting. Research writing though... that was another story. (see what I did there?) I could do the reading, find quotes, paraphrase, summarize, but then putting it all together was where I came to a screeching halt. Sometimes literally. I am sure my mother and husband can both recollect times when I knew exactly what I wanted to say, or had some idea anyway, but could not get that from my brain to paper or screen.

It was easier when I approached it creatively, but that would sometimes result in an instructor handing back an initial draft with a B or C in bold red ink at the top, telling me that I needed to write more professionally, more academically, that research was not the place for this voice, this style.

Respectfully, I disagree, my instructors of yore.

While there is certainly a time and place for me to pull out the academic voice buried deep within my head, there is always room for my creative, weird self to come through. After all, this is my writing, right? It should sound like it comes from me.

My students quickly learn that I am weird and that I embrace my quirkiness and put it on full display in and out of the classroom.

And there was the root of my initial struggles with research writing. Teachers, instructors, were asking me to deny myself, to take what for me is an intricate weaving, with all the messy parts on the back, and translate it into a linear structure which is anathema to me. Nothing about my brain is linear. Ask me to write a concept map of what is going on in my head and I will fill every blank part of the page with tiny writing, lines connecting, overlapping, twisting to show how thoughts emerge from odd leaps in logic.

Granted, I did have instructors who embraced my weird, quirky self and marveled at what my brain produced. It was a poetry professor who talked to me about the leaps of logic she would see on the page which were unique and wonderful, like no one else's writing. I have Laura to thank for allowing me to write my Philosophy of Teaching as a poem rather than an essay. Now a colleague, she still remembers that and we have talked about that choice we both made to allow me to express myself the way my brain works.

What works for me? An amalgamation of the creative and the academic, finding joy in data and delving into the rhetorical significance within an interview or in autoethnography.

I am not saying that I see research writing as poetry - or perhaps I am, though in a metaphorical rather than literal sense. There is a delicate dance in research writing, in weaving together my thoughts and their thoughts and new observations and data, of discovery and sharing what so fascinates me. It does not have to be dry and dull, like many of my students expect at the start of the semester. 

The most effective research writing expresses passion for answering a burning question. It wedges its way into an existing conversation and yells out, "but what if....?" Research writing has the potential to change the world.

When I became a teacher, that was my goal. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to open my students' minds to their potential to be kind, thoughtful, critical thinkers who could assess information and ask those burning questions. This has not changed. If anything, it has grown stronger, sharpened to a fine pencil point which I can use to sketch out a future unlike the world we now live in. 

Research writing and poetry. Creativity and quantitative data. They can coexist on the page. They can take the weird quirkiness of my brain and form a new portion of that ongoing conversation which invites you in to see the world as I do and leap through logic with me.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/ewian/25390760215

Day 6 of Classes

 It is almost mid-term, but I find that this is not the stress-point of the semester. Week 10 is when the semester becomes really difficult. That is the week when it feels like the semester will never end, when there are so many assignments and so little time, and still five weeks to go. This applies to students and professors both - the writing and the grading. It piles up and this is when the pile teeters and threatens to fall over, burying you in words.

The Simpsons: Season 3, Episode 4

This episode of The Simpsons comes to mind, with Principal Skinner in his garage, trapped under fallen stacks of newspapers. To keep his sanity intact (it is almost a week before anyone finds him) he bounces a basketball, counting the bounces, and then tries to beat his score.

While it is a digital stack of writing looming on the horizon - now both writing that I have to produce and writing that I have to grade - this potential exists. Historically, my two reactions to being overwhelmed by either sensory input or tasks which I have to complete were to lash out or become paralyzed. I've done some serious self-work to stop lashing out. Among other reasons, I did not want to lash out at my children, or at students. Paralysis is still out there, though, where my mind freezes and I cannot focus on anything.

So, what have I done to ensure that the Week 10 peak does not deprive me of oxygen? 

One way I am taking care of myself to make sure I do not spend all of Thanksgiving break ignoring my family and working intensely has been keeping on top of grading. This semester has been better than any other where that is concerned, perhaps because my workload is much heavier.

I am also making sure that I enjoy time with my husband and children. I remind myself to connect with them in a significant way every day. One of my high priorities is to make sure that doing this doctorate does not result in me disconnecting from my family.

Luckily - or not depending on how caught-up on work you are - once Week 10 passes it is like time speeds up and the end of the semester is there before you know it.

Day 5 of Classes

 (Sorry - no entry for last week, conferences with professor and asynchronous class)

But while those conferences and distance learning were going on, I was creating this image in my head as I thought about gathering information.

You stand in a vast field which has been planted with many types of grains. All around you there are tall stalks of wheat and rye, sorghum and corn, barley. Some of it is easy to recognize - separating out the corn is easy - but others are similar in appearance, especially if you are not accustomed to identifying grains. You only need one type of grain, though. So, how do you find it and separate it from the others in this vast field? Taking a scythe to the field, cutting it all down, and sorting by grain would not only waste a tremendous amount of time, but what are you going to do with all the grain you do not intend to use?

Eventually, after considering several different methods, you realize you entered the field without enough knowledge. So you retreat and find all the identifying characteristics you need to know which stalks of grain to cull from the field.

Research can be like that.

There are vast databases of articles. You can wade into them with a question, and in return get flooded with thousands of articles, many of which are irrelevant to what you really want to know. This is why it is so important to have a clear idea of what you want when you go searching for articles. If you know the terms which apply to your articles, then you can sort through that mass of articles to find those which you need.

This usually happens for me without much thought. I mull over ideas for weeks, months, before I go into my university's library system to find sources. That mulling refines my thinking and gives me narrowed search parameters. I still end up with more articles than I need, or sometimes with not enough from a search to confining, but I am ready to redefine and continue.

Some call that mulling procrastination.

I have been prone to procrastinate throughout my years of schooling. I can recall many all-nighters full of anxiety, frustration, and sometimes tears. It took years for me to reconcile myself with procrastination, to stop condemning myself for a pattern of behavior which I could not break.

Eventually, I learned to embrace the procrastination and see the value within it. All the time I am putting off a task, my mind is working on it, mulling, tumbling it about like rocks to polish them into a beautiful shine. All this work makes the task ahead easier to accomplish.

With this knowledge and acceptance of my thought and work patterns, I came to understand that I could put off tasks without anxiety, so long as I assure I have a block of time to complete them before I need to pass them over to someone else.

Instead of, "Why did you wait so long, don't you know it's due tomorrow?" I can tell myself, "Okay, you've been contemplating this for days, weeks, and now it is time to commit the hours you need to complete the work."

It has been freeing, beautiful.

It allows me to pour over the mass of articles early in the process, get them ready, and set them aside until I need them.

It helps me plan ahead, knowing how much time it takes me to write a given amount of text.

Cross your fingers that it continues to work with this doctoral process.

Day 3 of Classes

 "Research" v. Research

***I've had this conversation many times. Just so you know, this piece will not delve into fake news or conspiracy theory or anything of the sort. ***

There is a significant difference between the common conception of research - looking stuff up online and reading about a subject, especially when using credible sources from experts in their field - and the academic conception of research. That academic conception requires a researcher to gather their own data through whatever design is appropriate to their project and to analyze that data.

Regardless of your definition of the word research, I have considered myself a researcher at various points in my life. Reflectively, we can apply the term research to early stages of life, though we would consider that research unplanned and without any specific design.

Imagine a baby just beginning to eat solid foods. Maybe there are some Cheerios strewn across their highchair tray. The baby picks one up and puts it in their mouth (because everything goes there - baby mouths are super-sensitive and therefore the appropriate research tool in exploring texture, flavor, and many other attributes of objects). The baby feels the rough texture of the cereal, the slightly salty flavor, the round shape. They close their mouth and discover that this shape breaks easily. Food successfully eaten.

But do all of those Cheerios react the same way? The baby repeats their experiment to see if they can replicate the earlier results, discovers that Cheerios are awesome, and gleefully consumes them by the handful.

That baby is researching their world, gathering data to sort objects into categories - good taste/bad taste, soft/sharp, loud/quiet, good person/scary person/not quite sure yet. 

The way we learn about the world, what it is and how we live in it, what we think and experience and share with each other, does not change much from that baby trying out new foods. Eventually, we assign all sorts of complicated names to the various stages of research, the processes which prompt the research to begin with, and the means by which we conduct our research.

It all boils down to the same thing, though - curiosity. 

Humans are born researchers. Somewhere in their lives, though, we shame and scold that natural curiosity and exploration out of children. We tell them to sit still, to listen, to repeat back, to stop asking so many freaking questions. Why do we do this? Sometimes it because adults are tired, or they don't know the answers or how to help children find the answers. It is the way we have designed our compulsory education system in this country. Everyone was a researcher, but so many of us lose that curiosity and exploration as we conform to a standardized system.

Funny, then, that we teach research to adults who retain or rediscover that curiosity and want to add some letters after their name to show they curious beings seeking answers to the mysteries of the world and telling other people what they discover.

You can probably learn a lot about my axiology, ontology, and epistemology just by reading this and knowing what the fancy research words mean (my values, my thoughts on the nature of being, and my thoughts on how we know stuff). Depending on whether you are the sort of researcher with lots of letters after my name, you may even have a guess on at my research paradigm (I tend towards critical/feminist theory). What you may not know is exactly why I am doing this. After all, I already have the MS and MA after my name, so why do I need the EdD?

It is a valid question, one that I explored several times over before beginning this journey.

The simple answer: I want to change the world. I want to make the world a better place for my kids, and their kids, and their kids, and on and on. I want to make the world a better place for complete strangers who I will never meet. I want to make the world safer for kids who cannot be themselves without fear, for professionals who risk their lives to help kids learn.

This is one path toward that goal, a path that nourishes the curiosity and sense of exploration which I have never let go. It will provide me with all the industry-standard language and methods which I need to make my research the sort that can effect significant change. It will provide me with an ethos that the MS and MA do not quite achieve. It will provide me with connections (gah - networking) which I may need to bring attention to my research.

Do I expect that every project I undertake will result in world-changing action? No, not really.

But I can hope.

Day 2 of Classes

 Last week was Labor Day, so there was no class. I have thoughts around Labor Day, particularly as an adjunct instructor. I will not go into depth about that here, but will send a huge heaping Thank You to all my tenured colleagues who remember that adjuncts exist and fight to ensure equitable treatment.

Today we talked about Imposter Syndrome. This is a term that I am not a fan of. About 18 months ago, this is what I had to say:

Imposter Syndrome:

Yet another term women can use to blame themselves for internalizing our misogynistic culture teaching them they're not worthy of success and must be doing something wrong when they do succeed.

To expand on this, there is an intersectional nature to this practice, making it even worse when you add in being part of various marginalized communities, primarily people of color and the LGBTQ+ community. When society teaches you from the moment of your birth that you are already an imposter, no matter what you do, having other people rail against Imposter Syndrome can be annoying.

Along with the post I wrote 18 months ago, I suggested an alternate explanation for the feelings associated with Imposter Syndrome: rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD). This is often part of neurodivergence or follows trauma or accompanies anxiety. That fear of rejection from RSD can be paralyzing, to the point that praise can feel fake. You know that rejection is coming, so the praise must be false, could even be out of sympathy knowing that the axe is about to fall.

Many people pleasers are experiencing RSD. That extra-well-behaved kid in your classroom? They may be so afraid of getting in trouble or saying the wrong thing that they follow the rules the best they can (waving - that was me once upon a time). I had a conversation with my sibling not long ago in which we - surprise, surprise - talked about our childhood and the different perspectives we had on experiences we shared. I was startled to discover that they did not feel a pervasive fear of getting in trouble for their entire childhood. I had no idea that it was possible to go through childhood any other way (which feels a bit ridiculous to type now, given everything I know about child development).

It took a long time for me to get past that all-encompassing fear (though it still has some remnants in my mind - thank you, anxiety). Oddly - or maybe not so oddly - RSD lessened when I was querying literary agents and received rejection after rejection after rejection. I started to realize that rejection is not necessarily a bad thing. It can be motivation to work harder, to keep going. After all, I only need one literary to say yes, so if all the others say no, it's not a huge problem.

Doing that work on myself, considering exactly what Imposter Syndrome may be from an intersectional feminist perspective, has allowed me to break free from the constraints these words wrap around us. I can move freely through the world without those chains.

Day 1 of Classes

What excites me?

I am excited to engage in meaningful work with colleagues, to explore topics which have hovered at the peripheral of my mind, to push my boundaries outward. I am looking forward to writing more about issues which concern me. I hope that having this degree will lead to more job security. 

At the end of this, I will be Dr. Hyson.
Damn, that feels good.

What concerns me?

Time. I have a full plate. I live with chronic pain. I work full time. I am a partner and mom. I worry that I will burn out and have to step back from this work. I am not concerned whether I am mentally capable of completing this program, but whether I am physically capable.

My thoughts and feelings:

Whew. I expected to feel anxiety. Anxiety has been a companion of mine from childhood. While I clearly do have some concerns, they have not blossomed into anxiety. I do use anxiety meds, so that is likely having some impact, but there have still been times when the anxiety is there. 

In place of that anxiety I expected is confidence in my own academic abilities. I spent far too many years of my life feeling inferior, feeling like academic achievement was beyond me. It took a lot of work to get past this and arrive at a place where I know my abilities and my limitations. 

One of my limitations is the ability to make friends. As an introvert with a brain which does not work quite like others do, I often miss social cues and have difficulty getting close to people. Luckily, I seem to be surrounded by extroverts who are willing to adopt me into their world of normal people.