Recover

I thought that since last week was so stressful and dramatic, I'd comment on my very calm and casual weekend.

Basically, we recovered.  It's been hot, so most of our activities are in the evenings when it cools off.  I'm tired of the 90 degree days.  I want snow!!

Is it snowing yet? How about now? Are we there yet? 

We went out to dinner on Friday to celebrate "I'm not unemployed!".  We got home around 7:30 and I was exhausted, so I waited until about 10 and went to bed.  G ended up staying up reading most of the night and slept in the next day.  I didn't want to wake him so I figured a day of self-care was in order.  I worked out, colored my hair, painted my toes and did a face mask.  Stuff G doesn't need to be a part of, though we do loved exercising together.  I called and talked to my dear, dear Charlotte for over an hour.  That lady is good for my soul.

Once he got up, we just lounged around and spent a relaxing day doing very little.  Again, I had a rough day with my tummy so I went to bed early.  I mean, that was it. Just relaxing and talking and watching movies and being silly. Just what I needed.

We got up reasonably early on Sunday.  It was sunrise service and began at 6:30 a.m. and so we just stayed home.  Last Sunday I did my once monthly book club meeting with the high school kids and we had 3 other adults come too so it was a great conversation about the book "The Girl Who Fell From The Sky" by Heidi Durrow.  So this Sunday we just chilled out. We went shopping and found two awesome chairs at Goodwill from Ethan Allen.  One of them needed glue, so they were marked at $5 each.  I have glue and know how to use it.  So we did and I did and it was pretty darn awesome.

I know you've all been wondering how Eleanor is doing.

That cat will never die. Not if I have anything to say about it.

She's been terribly sick.  When I started her on the thyroid medicine, she was throwing up and just not hungry or thirsty.  She rapidly lost weight and my veterinarian was looking at me like "she ain't gonna bounce from this".  Yeah right. I took out all of her hard food and put her on canned, then bought her a bunch of crunchy treats and a few cans of tuna for variety.

It may seem excessive that I'd get up three times per night to feed her, but if I didn't, she would vomit uncontrollably.  And a week later, the vomiting was gone.  A few days after that, I stopped feeding her at night.

And now, a month later, she's gained weight and is probably back to her pre-sickness weight.  She gets her food thrice daily (sometimes four times if she plays her cards right) and gets her medicine twice a day.  It's Prednisone, thyroid medicine and an anti-vomiting medication called Metrocloprimide.  And we have a special way of doing it.  I sing the "It's medicine time" song, then pet her and give her two pills and the dropper of Metrocloprimide, then pet her some more and sing the "Medicine time is over" song and snuggle with her until she purrs.  Please don't judge me. I'm afraid to lose my 17 year old kitty and will do anything in my power to keep her healthy.  Yes, I know it's excessive to some people.  The whole operation takes less than 5 minutes and I think it amuses G to no end.  Not that he'd own up to it.

Why do you insist on pilling me? It's torture! 

In any case, there was a big football game last night.  Seahawks versus 49ers.  Huge rivalry.  Since moving back to Washington, I've renewed my fandom for both the Mariners (that's baseball) and the Seahawks.  I love our Seattle teams.  Alright, I love the OKC Thunder too, but don't tell my Washington friends.  But big game night.  I wanted to watch the game, so I invited my husband to go to a restaurant and eat and watch the game.  He agreed.  My husband hates sports. Sports aren't really his thing to watch, but he went anyway and was very pleasant.  I asked him about it, because I could have certainly called my girlfriends and said I wanted to go with them.  But he said the sweetest thing.  G spent his life around women.  He's a great listener and I encourage those female friendships as much as his male friendships.  You know what he says? He says he doesn't want me to have to feel like my husband doesn't take an interest in my interests.  Frankly, I don't mind that he doesn't enjoy sports, but I do just love him for being willing. Best. Husband. Ever.

Honey, the screen is behind you.  Oh, never mind. 

So we went and ate and I had a beer.  Kind of unusual for me, but it's football.

And just five minutes after we got home, it started to rain.  There was a storm front moving in.  And it heralds the first days of real fall.  Not a hint, not a whiff here and there in the mornings, but real fall.  No more days over 80 in the 10-day forecast.  "And in this moment, among us has broken the reaping season."  We sat on the porch and just watched it rain for awhile.  I sipped chamomile tea and, as it seems to be our custom, we counted our blessings together.  

Break out the sweaters! 

So there you have it. A reprieve from stress and a bunch of rest.  Next Friday I'll take Eleanor in for her follow up appointment to check her thyroid.  The medicine seems to depress her voice, but she has her ways of getting our attention.  As soon as I know something else about the job thingy, I'll let y'all know.  Until then- let's just say no news is good news.

Tension

I usually handle stress pretty well. It doesn't come naturally to me; I had to learn healthy coping mechanisms in my early 30s after years of doing such a poor job that my health and other's safety were threatened.  What I do now is talk to close friends about what is bothering me, pinpoint how I really feel about it and discuss ways of resolving the conflict or problem.  I accept love and support and only occasionally just bottle things up.  In times of stress, I pay extra attention to my physical health and what I eat and tend to get a little more close mouthed than normal. I get lots of exercise.

That's what I've been doing since last week.

There's an acronym for taking care of oneself. It's HALT.
Whenever you're
Hungry
Angry
Lonely or
Tired,
stop what you're doing because you need to do some self care.  Make your bed, take a nap or go to bed.  Things always look better in the morning.  Find a friend and quit isolating yourself and talk out the problem. And for goodness sake, eat something. In other words, when you've got those symptoms, halt and pay attention. You're no good to anyone else if you're not taking care of yourself.

What with my food allergies and my doctor's inability to help me figure out exactly what causes my digestive system to freak out, I'm waiting for an appointment with a gastroenterologist.

In the meantime? I'm stressed.  Like STRESSed.
My contract at my job runs out today and I'm not at all convinced that I will be retained.  It's not that they don't want to keep me here, it's just that nothing has worked out.

In January, I interviewed and was offered a tenure-track position in English Education.  Do you know how rare that is? My boss wrote me a letter saying that I would be retained and I let the opportunity pass. It wasn't in Washington, where I want to be.   And since I'd begun working at the university last September, I'd met regularly with my boss.  He assured me things were progressing.

Indeed, we got the funding for the position they wanted to create for me.  My contract ran out at the end of June, but was extended until August, and then again until September 15th.  In the meantime, I was encouraged to apply for a different position- one I felt really enthusiastic about.  That's how things were two weeks ago.

Worried, but trusting.

So I interviewed. I waited.
I was scheduled to meet with the dean for the position I applied for.  The secretary said he was meeting with all the candidates.  That screams "you didn't get it", in case you didn't know.  And I didn't get it.

I met with my boss again. He said that I was also out of the running for the position they created for me.  Another department had gotten control of it and wanted someone with Oracle experience and wouldn't budge on that.

Ok.

So we met again on Tuesday, and my boss pitched me two options.  I was like "those are ok options, but my contract expires Friday."  He said he knew that and would get back to me.

It's too late this year to apply for faculty positions. It's far too late to get another job.

That brings us to today, to right now.  At almost noon on Friday.  My kind, sweet, supportive husband is awesome but I'm still pretty tense.  I worked out extra hard this week and got enough sleep and company and discussion.

I'm pretty sure that all of the stress management in the world isn't going to help until I hear something.

Wish me luck! *crosses fingers*

******************UPDATE***********************
My boss isn't in today. There is no contract that the secretary knows of in the works.

Oh. Well then.

****UPDATE #2********

With 15 minutes to spare, the department secretary (who I just adore) called to tell me that they are extending my contract another month.  On the positive side, I'm glad to be employed. On the negative- what the hell are they going to do with me?

Towards a Better...

At my middle school, testing season is almost over.  Next week we will have make up tests and that's it for the year.  Things got thrown into panic mode since we were set to do paper and pencil tests for the 7th graders and at the last moment the state department said we had to do computerized testing.  We only have about 50 computers in the school and 500 students. It wasn't a nightmare but the counselor had never arranged this sort of thing before so we all suffered a bit.  Both the administrator and the monitor must stay in the room during testing and roamers are to come check every once in awhile to make sure that students are comfortable and that administrators don't need a break.  I really dislike having a room full of kids who have to pee for three hours and nobody comes to get them to take them to the bathroom.

Anyway, I am sure my kids did a great job.  I'm not allowed to see or to help or to look at test scores.  Likewise I instruct the kids not to talk to me about them.  However, it leaks out and sometimes in their exuberance, someone will brag to me about what they got.  I'm happy for them but also say they can't say those things to me. I think that the English scores will increase dramatically this year.  I'm in the English department and the main sixth grade teacher and eighth grade teachers really did a great job this year.  Those scores will follow us as well, wherever we go.

Speaking of going, my student intern is almost at the end of her stint in my school. Next week she is going to institute the poetry unit I asked her to create.  She has used my materials to come up with curriculum, written lesson plans and will institute them and assess at the end of the unit.  She is doing much better in the classroom and I feel comfortable having her there to help teach.  She thinks she is ready to go out on her own.  I hope so.  I've been teaching for that last however long and I'm still never as prepared as I want to be.  There is also a lot the kids throw at you and even when you are prepared, you have to watch your face and reactions.  So I've been thinking of some advice of my own for Title 1 public school teachers.

1. Don't take it personally.  Kids have it rough in public school.  Their home lives, especially those who live in poverty, are sometimes (though this is not the rule) challenging.  When they say or do ugly things, it's almost never about the teacher. When you hear ugliness, look immediately beyond the words to the child spouting them.  At all costs, avoid sarcasm.
2.  Not everyone who is poor is troubled.  Lots and lots of my students have happy home lives.
3.  My goals and values may not be their goals and values.  I am White.  The vast majority of the students I teach are either Hispanic or Black.  While we all have common American experiences, there are cultural differences and I do not have the right to make a kid feel bad because they realize from an early age that college is not for them. I do have a responsibility to learn more of my student's cultures and to pull those things into the classroom so that we can all learn better.
4.  That does not mean that I can give up talking about literacy, a better life, and college.  The fact is that as a 7-8 grade English teacher, I might be the last literacy educator they see.  This makes my job that much more important and urgent.  The buck stops here.
5. You know what my goal is? My goal is to be a better person.  That's why I teach. That's what it boils down to.  I want to look in the mirror every day and see someone I can be proud of.  How I go about teaching ties into that.
6.  My personal life has little place in my classroom.  My students know I am White and that I speak some spanish.  I tell them a little about growing up where I did, about the migrant children who became my friends and about Spanish lessons from 6-12 grade.  I tell them about my past teaching jobs, including the prison which fascinates them, and I talk about my dog and cat.  That's about it. If I am teaching curriculum and listening to their talk and their world and entering a realm that ultimately does not belong to me, I want to be as empty of a vessel as I can rather than a cup spilling over.
7.  Take the weekends off.  I know it is difficult.  Grade papers before you come home.  Set up curriculum and lesson plans on your plan period.  Do as my friend Bonner suggests and touch a door or some piece of the school as you leave and say "I am leaving this place" and do not come back until Monday.
8.  Laugh.  Tell jokes.  Enjoy these students because junior high is brutal and hormone filled and frightening.  Laughter is important and instructive and makes life easier.
9.  When you are wrong, say you are sorry. Publicly and with sincerity.  I apologize to my students when I get stuff wrong.  I take responsibility and get more respect for that than if I never admit mistakes.  This shows that if I can get better and be a strong person who is compassionate, then they can be too. It's a pathway and an example.
10. You spot it, you got it.  I stole this from an Al-Anon meeting (that's friends and family members of alcoholics).  When the kids were spending their lunch hours smearing food up and down the hallways and throwing trash on the grounds, I was dismayed and angry.  I decided that instead of some punitive action, I had a responsibility to teach compassion and responsibility.  I took an entire day and had the students write letters to Margarita and Griselda, who are our custodians.  I walked them around and we picked up trash.  We gave the letters to the ladies and made them cry.  I asked that if anyone saw people throwing trash or food where it shouldn't go that they speak up.  Now our hallways are mostly clear and the grounds look better.  Such a simple thing, really.  If you can, then do.

I feel strongly that we are the guardians of innocence.  Our middle school kids are half child, half teenager and spend a good deal of time just trying to figure out what to do next.  When someone or something threatens their ability to do so, it turns me into a raging witch.  For instance, one of our students dropped out for three months.  His dad dis-enrolled him and took him to Texas.  When he got back, his mom came to re-enroll him.  Only he had gotten a gang tattoo on his neck in the intervening time.  He knows that in order to be part of our school, he has to cover that tattoo but chooses not to.  Every single time I catch him, I take him to the principal and he spends time out of class sitting, waiting for his mom to come bring him a turtleneck.  It's crazy.  But I have to do that- to keep gang symbols and tattoos and signs and graffiti out of my school.  It's not just my job, it's my moral responsibility as an adult and as a human to protect others.

In other news, I have bronchitis again.  My doctor will be so thrilled.  Last weekend I missed an important play in Oklahoma City and this weekend, I missed a great play here in Tulsa.  I simply had no energy to walk from the damn car to the theater to sit there for two hours without coughing my head off.  I'll go on Monday for a shot and some antibiotics and blah blah blah...it's the same story.  My job is killing me because each time I walk into the building, I inhale dust and mold and probably asbestos.  I'm hoping next year will be better and working, always working, towards a better world.

21st Century Women Revisited

I've often made the point to my students that revision is writing. I knew that when I posted my last blog, I'd need to add something. There was just some point I hadn't made, some note that didn't ring the right note. Hmm. So I talked to my editor about it and bounced some ideas off of him about what I'd written. Grey is my editor/boyfriend/collaborator/friend. He observed that I had written something about what did not qualify me a 21st Century woman, but not much on what it means to be one. How would I recognize other members of this tribe? What, if anything, did I think of as "woman's work"? To put it differently, is there anything a man might do that would make me feel as though he was infringing on my domain?

That made me think. I guess there isn't much. I think men who clean house are pretty sexy, and since if I'm ever going to live with a man in an egalitarian sense, he should probably do his fair share of cleaning. In the home, I do prefer to be the one who cooks breakfast most of the time, and the one who cleans the bathroom. I suspect, and perhaps someday science will fail to rebuff my theory, that men do not see dirt the way that women are able to do so. Women always love it when men do dishes and to tell the truth, I have one more dirty little secret: I hate dealing with finances. I would clean every toilet every week for eternity if I didn't have to worry about money and what we do and do not have. I care that if I want a new dress, I can just go get one. I care that I have reliable transportation and money for food and maybe something shiny once in awhile. That's it. Seriously, I couldn't give two shits about money unless I didn't have any. But I'm pretty sure that this is much more about laziness than it is about gender roles.

Likewise, I think my upbringing wasn't really so much about gender roles than it has been about necessity. Women and men both can hunt and fish and work like dogs on harvest crew. It's more likely to find men in jobs that require outside work or dangerous work, but it's still pretty common for women to be in those roles too. I have snowmobiled quite a bit, jumped off of cliffs, spoken to audiences of over 2,000 people and stepped into a prison to try to make a difference there. And yet, nothing about me is particularly manly.

Maybe the things about being a woman that I like best is the ability to slip into a nurturing role, a mom-type of role that offers comfort, guidance, support and help. I usually can tell when one of my kids is upset or hiding some emotion. They don't seem to mind speaking to me about personal issues or asking advice. I like being a care giver. I dislike that Grey is sick and hope he feels better. If he isn't better when I get home from Louisville (I'm here for a conference), then I will bring him some cold remedies and cluck over him like a chicken until he either passes out or pretends to feel better so that I will go away.

Speaking of conferences, I happened to end up in a workshop with the Assistant Superintendent of the school district where I teach. I stepped out to take a phone call, and in my absence, my assistant principal told her we were having difficulty implementing the America's Choice curriculum. When I returned she asked "What do you think of America's Choice"?

In my defense, I was far more polite than one might think. I strongly believe that as a for-profit company, Pearson does not have my student's best interests at heart. Their curriculum is for 1 hour classes and I have only 45 minute classes. Furthermore, this year none of the grade level teachers have ever seen or had training on the curriculum. We have since had a one-day workshop wherein there was a group grump session at the organizers. They suggested implementing adaptations tot he curriculum that the teachers in the district often were gotten in trouble for doing. In fact, the Pearson "coach" for my school threatened me several times by telling me that her report would go to the very woman who was standing before me, asking for my input. I almost quit over the unsupported mandates and the coach barging into my classroom, writing reports about me that I was not privy to, reports that did not cast me or my teaching practices in a positive light. This from a non-district book company. A corporation.

But I was polite and I was diplomatic. And at the end of our long discussion- I think it was productive- the Asst. Supt. decided to come visit my school in the next two weeks. I offered to create an instrument to help gauge district teacher's attitudes towards the curriculum and immediately went back to my hotel room to construct a survey. As I exited the workshop and overheard my assistant principal exhale loudly and say to his friend "Well, the Assistant Superintendent *did* ask. What was she expecting?"

This guardianship of my students, fighting for what I believe is their best interest, and being willing to speak my truth and not back down- this is what a woman does in the 21st century. I could get fired. My principal may get into some trouble and life could become more uncomfortable than what it is right now. It's a risk I am willing to take. And man or woman, you had best step aside when in that particular arena.

I am a 21st century woman; articulate, adventurous, athletic and sometimes brave. I am not good at mopping floors or mowing grass, but I can split an infinitive or demonstrate the correct of the pluperfect subjunctive on short notice. Usually I'm ok for a laugh. My very romantic relationship is multi-platform and highly engaging with a man I like, respect and find to be more than qualified to handle a woman such as me. And handsome. Perhaps that's what I like best about being a woman. Maybe It's as simple as great sex and emotional connection; feeling safe and cared for and knowing that the one you care for in a healthy relationship also cares for you. Yeah. Glad I'm a woman.

Wisdom

I was asked a question recently about being a graduate student. I became a grad student in 2002 and have pretty much lived in that mode ever since. Did I have any wisdom about living this life? Did I have something to pass on? The implicit question was much more like "how do you live on next to nothing and still concentrate on studying with an empty stomach and the threat of not having a place to live the next month?"

First a disclaimer: I'm not wise. Yeah, no. I run around most of the time finding the parameters of my world by bumping into things, stubbing my toes and occasionally, unknowingly, breaking glass ceilings. I think that last part is imaginary or wishful but hey, it's my blog.

But I do have some reflections on being a graduate student, if you'd like that. I'm getting pretty good at it. And by now I owe the government more than I could possibly pay back. The writing is worth something though.

First, you have to pick a profession. If you're doing a master's, you can be sort of fast and loose. Professional writing is close to English is close to English Education. At the master's level, much can be forgiven. And it's easy to take cross-curricular courses. Take things you like along with things you have to take. And don't be a morning person. Nobody likes a sunny bitch. I try to never be anywhere before 10 a.m. For the first year of my doctoral degree, I taught late in the mornings and then took my grad classes at night- the last one got out at 10 p.m. If this doesn't sound like fun, you may be an overachiever.

Make sure you look at the gradweb website- this is the line in the sand for the graduate college. The graduate college is run by people outside of your discipline who enforce rules set down by someone else outside of your discipline. Pleading, threatening and bribery don't work: I suggest you pick a strong advisor and sick them on the college. And meet every single deadline, or else.

Coffee is my friend. I've been sucking bean since I was 11 years old. I can still remember the shaking in my hands and the pulsing of caffeine through my body and every nerve ending sang an electric Bob Marley Star-Spangled wail. There was nothing like that feeling. It helps me to contextualize my studies. If I'm drinking coffee when I read or write or discuss a particular topic, it's likely that I'll remember it later when I need to; and it's likely that I'll be drinking coffee then too. For instance, I took a thermos of fresh-roasted nicaraguan with a bright high taste to every one of my statistics lecutres. I had a cup this morning when we met as a group to work on our final project. I would argue that smell and taste memory helped my recall as much as having my friend Tracy sitting next to me while we worked. Of course, this means that I can never give it up. Ever. EVER.

Poverty is as cultural as it is economic. This is true. Most of my students think I'm a middle class white chick. Some who have little or no experience in the world think I might come from a well-educated Northeastern family. It's hard to tell that I grew up very poor and that I continue to live a slightly lower middle class existance. I had to teach myself the culture and lifestyles of the middle class in order to assimilate. For instance, where I'm from, we say "Did you get enough to eat?" and that's a hallmark of a poverty-class family. Getting enough to eat means there has been bounty- either in hunting, fishing, gardening or from just plain hard work for money. In the middle class, you might be asked how something tasted. There will be more detail on quality and spices than on quantity since it's more often taken for granted that there *will* be something for supper. In affluent classes, the empahsis is on presentation and style- do the settings look right and was there a visual component that appealed to the diner?

The culture of a graduate student is one who exists often between those classes. We appear one way- as aspiring intellectuals who eschew worldly concerns like paying bills and tending to the care of our families, homes and lives. These things are rarely if ever drawn into conversation with one's professors and even among other graduate students. Funny how the person with whom you take so many classes never told you that they have children, or that they had to move because they couldn't afford the rent where they lived anymore or that because there is little available in the way of health insurance, they can't go to a chiropractor and that their teeth are slowly rotting out of their head. But at home and with families, the shroud of mystery surrounds and alienates the student. We have to fill our other roles as providers, housecleaners, dog walkers, child nose-blowers, and care givers to our families regardless of their composition. And we worry. We worry constantly about money, about schedules about paying bills and paying student loans and if we're ever going to to on vacation again. Our significant others may wonder when the economic nightmare is going to end even if they are completely supportive of your ideals. It just takes a toll after awhile. You become schizophrenic- swarming any seminar on campus that gives away free pizza during the week and then being expected to whip out some specialized vocabulary and insight into solving the world's problems at dinner parties on the weekends. My strategy is to find a sugar daddy who can afford to take you out to dinner once in awhile. I'll let you know how that works out. In the meantime, it's top ramen half of the time and greek yogurt when I can afford it.

I save money on groceries and things in a number of ways. Some even help the environment. It's way cheaper to roast your own coffee than to buy it in the store. I shop the farmer's markets and am growing my own garden- this experiment might be good or bad. I'll keep you posted. I buy frozen rather than canned food for the nutritional value and the cost. I cook at home a lot and eat out less- never eating fast food. Fast food is gross. Eww... but that's a post for another day. Plus, I'm becoming a decent cook. Poor Luke isn't a vegetarian so he's stuck living off of salsa and avocados. I do offer to try meat but I make this yuckyface when I eat meat and I think he finds it unpleasant. Oh well, tofu-bacon it is. There are free days for lots of activities, like the Okc Museum, Fred Jones Museum of Art, the zoo and many other places. If you're cute, you can also talk your way in for free. Ahem....so I hear.

Oh, and if you are lucky enough to get a graduate assistantship that teaches, be careful. They make assumptions about my salary, my position at the university, about who I might be (sometimes that's the red-haired bride of Satan), and how they hell they can get the best grade out of me. I'm lucky to be a teacher of some years. I don't run into the same problems as my younger and less experienced counterparts. Although I do very much like to bounce my student challenges off on others. Don't get me wrong; I get stumped just as often as anyone else. They're just more technologically and intrinsically stupider difficulties with teaching.

There are a lot of distractions at home. First off, lose the cable bill. I haven't had cable for 13 years now. I like television. No, I love television. When Luke moved in, he brought a 56" big screen television. We use it from time to time to watch Netflix. If I have cable, I won't do my homework. But I know I shouldn't bring my homework home anyway because there are too many lovely distractions here. I have to clean the cat box. I need to walk the dogs. The garden won't weed itself. The dishes are dirty; I can't possibly do that research paper while dust gathers in the inner corner of the liquor cabinet! Augh!

Oh yeah, and about summer and winter breaks: you don't get paid during them if you're a grad assistant. It sucks, but put back money and be regimented about it. I'm lucky to get a summer class to teach. Of course, I'm crazy enough to take 3 classes and teach 5 and take three in the summers. For the spring semester my load was equivalent to about 24 hours. The norm for English students is 12. And I still got all A's. However, I wouldn't recommend this to anyone who has a significant other of any kind. Luke would help me with things just to be able to spend time with me. Once he wrote out all of my household bills and I just signed the checks. I have no idea if they were right but everything got paid on time.

One of the most important parts of grad school is having a hobby, preferably related to physical activity. Seems counter-intuitive to engage in activities not pertinent to adcademe, but believe me, this will save your sanity. I run and do yoga. I walk my dog. I keep a blog and am writing to my grandma every week since she's in a nursing home. Training a mind in only one direction may seem like a good thing, but it's the diversity of existance that will ensure survival when the insanity of end of semester work kicks in. And walk away for a week every semester to clear your head and rejuvenate, even if it's just to go camping. Just trust me on this one.

The best thing a new graduate student can do is find balance. Balance between interesting studies and a personal life separate from work. Balance between starvation and overabundance. Between giving everything you've got to your studies and everything you've got to your other obligations and finding time for yourself. Balance between chateau briand and buttered rice. Between friends who understand exactly the context of what you say when you're discussing the intricacies of progressive era politics and education a possible future for teaching in the U.S. And before you know it, you'll be standing in a silly, floppy hat with a diploma, wondering what the hell you're going to do next.

Hey, got a question? Some topic you'd like me to write about? Shoot me a text at mindied@gmail.com