Something to Say

Having nothing to say can be a frightening issue in several instances: when you are supposed to be blogging, when you are supposed to be publishing, during important conversations, during presidential debates....

While I will probably never find myself in the latter scenario, the first three, and especially the first two, are common self-inflicted circumstances for me now. As I was trying to figure out what to post for this week I felt as though I did not have anything important to say, and it was the same feeling I got earlier in the week when I was brainstorming "future projects" (something I have to discuss for my tenure review). Although blogging and scholarly articles and casual conversations may be quite different, I do believe the ability to have something to say comes from a certain habit of mind.

This habit of mind consists of:

1) CURIOSITY. I believe that to have interesting and fresh things to say, you have to ask a lot of questions, which means you have to be curious about what you see, read, and hear all around you. I tend to get so busy in a day that I breeze past things that should require a second look (group of kids on skates with movie cameras in our street), or don't stop to find out more (like seeing an interesting headline in the New York Times, but not actually reading the article).

2) REFLECTION. When I hear someone say something worthwhile I suspect they have thought about it before. Setting aside some "still time," as I call it, to reflect on things that have happened to you in a day can cause you to realize what's been in your head that you didn't even realize you were thinking about. getting it down on paper, of course, is a must. Perhaps 19c writers were so amazing because they kept journals.

3) INTERACTION. Other people will draw your attention to things you didn't notice, will challenge the same old way you have always thought about things, will reinforce something you were already thinking but hadn't been able to put into words, and all other sorts of things that will sharpen, enhance, and deepen your own interesting ideas. I call this a habit of mind because I think you have to interact in an intentional way that is other-oriented. You should do more listening than talking and you should not immediately discount what other people suggest. And, you should try to interact with people who would not normally make your "friend" list because they are too different from you.

So as I sat here tonight wondering why I have nothing to say, I thought about how maybe I'm not intentional enough about these particular habits of mind: curiosity, reflection, and interaction. We'll see if my blog posts get more interesting if I start doing these three things. If you have habits of mind that help you come up with interesting ideas or things to say please share!

Upon Reaching December

When Pandora opens it automatically restarts where it last left off: with “Jingle Bell Rock” and “O Holy Night.” Our house smells faintly of burnt wood. There are Ziploc baggies of cookies on the counter. My nightly ritual consists of plugging in lights at dusk and unplugging them before bed. Yes, such signs mean it is now December and the holiday season is in full throttle.

This year, though, it means even more. Having now reached December 2011 means I survived my first semester at my new job as an assistant professor. Some things are not so different, especially as I stare at the stack of essays and exams that need grading. Some things are only slightly different. I have still had the joy of Christmas baking and Christmas movie nights, though not with my long treasured friends, but with new friends I am quickly growing to love. I have a North Carolina Frasier Fir in my living room, though it was gotten in near tears in 40 degrees of pouring rain at the Home Depot.

And some things are vastly different. This year I won’t be preparing for MLA interviews, nor will I be frantically finishing a dissertation. I will, however, be putting together my tenure notebook for my first tenure review in January. When I look back at the last several Christmas breaks it does strike me that they have been defined by some of the most monumental milestones in our field. (I hope this causes people who complain about the long breaks professors get to give that a second thought).

Maybe that’s why it only feels natural that I have a make-or-break sort of project like the tenure notebook to keep me occupied during the holiday. Oh, don’t worry. There will plenty of festivities. I’m already slowly working through the Christmas movie list (The original How the Grinch Stole Christmas, check. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, check.). And I am nearly sick of eating Christmas cookies and listening to Christmas music. I am working my way steadily through Christmas cards, wrapping paper, and tape.

I do feel a sense of accomplishment that I completed my first semester here without major incident, or, in other words, successfully. Putting the notebook together will involve much reflection, so I suspect my posts throughout December on the blog will include more thoughts evaluating my experience. Right now, though, I am enjoying the feeling of knowing I finished, without dissecting it any further than that.

Thanks to all of you who have been “listening” to my thoughts this semester. I hope to be a little more consistent with my weekly posts. If there is anything you particularly want to hear about, professional or personal, about my transition from graduate student to full-time faculty, from North Carolina to Texas, just let me know.

continuing the conversation

As a follow up to my guest post for Constructing the Academy blog, I found a pretty interesting article that lays out what one should do at a conference (as opposed to my post which was simply what I did at my first conference as a faculty member).

How to Work the Conference Part One

How to Work the Conference Part Two

How to Work the Conference Part Three

**disclaimer: by posting this link I"m not suggesting I agree wholesale with this writer. To me, though, its worth thinking about how other people approach professionalization issues in our field because it helps me clarify what I want my approach to be**

Home is (?)

I knew it would happen, but I have sort of forgotten that it would. It was shocking, then, when I tried to sign in to my UNCG email account and I got an error message that read "log account expired."

I'll admit, I go to the English department website sometimes and just surf around, or watch the scrolling stories go by on the universities home page. I've stopped getting mail for awhile now in my UNCG inbox, but somehow it was always comforting to be able to check my email when I wanted to.

I'm hoping it'll be good for me, this enforced shut-out from the corner of cyber-space that defined so many years of life. Instead of being suspended between two spaces, checking both my new school and my old school's email, I now find my academic identity squarely situated in only one email address.

Although I've been forced to cut ties with my old email, I'm so fortunate that ties to my advisors, my colleagues, my friends, and my family can continue. I wonder what "home is where the heart is" might mean when your heart is with so many people flung far and wide by jobs and other life circumstances? I'm beginning to think home is not a place but a state of mind, more like the phrase "I feel at home with you."

Thinking about home in this way might make it easier for me to get my Texas drivers license. I have heard you don't get to keep your old one, and I can't yet bring myself let go of this last piece of tangible evidence that says I belong in North Carolina. Just the other day at the security checkpoint in the airport the security personnel asked me if I was traveling with the guy in front of me. In response to my quizzical look he shrugged and said "you both have North Carolina licenses." Eager to strike up a conversation with a fellow North Carolinian, I introduced myself to this traveller and he asked me "so what are you in Waco for?" It was a stunning question, but not nearly as stunning as the answer I heard coming out of my mouth: "Oh, I live here now."

In moments like that I realize this isn't home -- yet. But if home does not have to be just one place, but can be a state of mind, an attitude I have toward lots of different places and people and moments in time, then I'm rather anxious to add Texas to that list. My email account may have expired, but obviously my affection and attachment for UNCG and Greensboro have not. Nor will it ever, I imagine. But this doesn't preclude attachments to other places. I'm still quite attached to the lake house I grew up in, and to my best friend from 5th grade, and to the local farmer on highway 29. They are all home to me, and in this way I suppose I will always be coming from or going toward home. What I'm trying to do now is to learn to be at home.

The Importance of Failing

Condoleezza Rice spoke yesterday evening at Baylor University for one of President Starr's "On Topic" events and I was fortunate enough to be among the audience. Yes, some of what she said I disagreed with and Yes, some of it sounded too practiced and stilted. But a good deal of it was genuine and entertaining. My favorite moment was near the end when a question card from an 8 year old was chosen who asked "why are you so smart, beautiful, and amazing?" Dr. Rice answered with the story of how she got to be Secretary of State, which was, she says, "by failing as a concert pianist." Apparently she could read music before she could read and her mother had groomed her to become a world-renowned musician (they lived in segregated Alabama if this tells you anything about where Dr. Rice gets her tenacity from). Dr. Rice discovered as a sophomore that she would not be able to cut it in that line of work, so she gave up this pursuit that had to that point consumed her life. A few months later she discovered politics.

Her answer, I thought, to how she found her way to success profoundly begins with failure. This is a quality I think we need to cultivate in our culture - both inside and outside the classroom. A praise of failure would go a long way toward enabling people, especially those in high positions, to say "I was wrong" without being lambasted. Or even to say "I don't know." It would also foster greater creativity in all kinds of ways, by encouraging people to try and then to see their failure as success. Failure is a kind of success, because you you find out all kinds of important things-about yourself, about the subject you are pursuing, about the world-when you don't get it right.