proud teacher

I've been skulking around campus like an obnoxious person of mystery in sunglasses because I scratched my cornea two days ago (while helping myself to a tissue!!). And because it hurts, I've been heading home early and missed the faculty bake-off yesterday and the reception to celebrate LV's tenure today... Boo. 

But I love this part of the semester because students are working on their research projects and I love seeing how fired up they're getting and all the ideas and connections that are taking off. Who knows where that will go. A paper on Baldwin's Sonny's Blues from last year's critical theory class just won first place in Sigma Tau Delta's (the English honorary society's) international convention that concluded in Pittsburgh last week and the society's journal editor asked the student if they could publish it! 

Pic: At the WGS Symposium with one of my student's projects about rehabilitating body dysmorphia in dancers. Their point is that as dancers they always stare at themselves critically in the studio mirror so they wanted to use the mirror as a canvas to enable dancers to write empowering complimentary words for themselves and others.

And on compliments: A couple of weeks ago, when I gave the talk about the Trump administration's rhetoric, a student told me their friend who'd come to the talk with them said I was pretty and had terrific hair--I got so self-conscious, that instead of saying thank you and moving on, I blathered on about but did they like my talk. The next day, Lisa said something nice about my hair as well, and that weekend I reacted awkwardly when something similar happened. L's advice: "A simple thank you will suffice."

"keep fighting the good fight"

Today, I finally got to teach the class I was supposed to teach in prison last October. I was a bit concerned about building rapport with a bunch of adults I'd never met before within the space of a class period, but it went great.

Things that stuck with me:

• In pre-class training, the liaison said that if anyone held the door open for me, I should wave them through first--I shouldn't let anyone walk behind me. (And then they assigned me a Personal Protection Device with an emergency button.)
• But apart from some people in the hallway who were gawking at the classroom, everyone was welcoming and respectful.
• When I mused out loud that the classroom didn't have a clock (and as no smart phones are allowed in the building, I didn't have mine), one of the students gave me his watch to use.
• How eager my students were to laugh at my silly jokes. My kids could stand to take some lessons on how they did NOT roll their eyes. Ha.
• But seriously, 100% of the class wanted to be there, had done their homework, and were active participants.
• How dependent they were on forces completely out of their control--whether the program would continue or not, whether they'd receive funding or not, if people would find the time and inclination to come visit/teach them or not.
• What they said about freedom, the way rehabilitations had been rolled back, how when you grow up hearing gunshots every day, you don't even think to duck. 
• How in the space of two hours, I was already assigning place values to the students as the philosopher, the historian, the memoirist, the media consultant and so on.
• The new things I learned in these texts I've read a zillion times--from my reading of course--but more importantly from the ways other people read, shared, and built on in community. I love this part of teaching so much.
• How they must have picked up on the small coded things I said (there was an official observer in class) about the carceral system, restorative justice, needing a Malcolm in order to have the government negotiate with a Martin, etc. When I answered their question about why I was there, I got a deep "I understand" from the person who asked it. And at the end of the class when we we were taking the desks from the circle and putting them back into the mandated and regimented rows (metaphor much?) three students shook my hand and told me to "keep fighting the good fight."

I will. 

Lots of moving parts to the prison education program currently, but I want to keep being involved. Surprisingly Big A, who usually supports everything I want to do, was a bit taken aback when I mentioned taking this on as an extra class and wondered if I might need to pace myself. 

(Also, I don't like shaking hands. If I resort to my heritage and start offering namastes instead--would that be rude?)

Pic: Spring is really coming! A sunshiny-bright patch of crocuses on the MSU campus.

shashay all day

One of the big reasons Nu wanted to come with me to work was because there was a drag show in town. 

One of the cute things that happened when we went to Admitted-Students' Day last week, was that we bumped into Nu's kindergarten bestie KM. Nu and KM might share a floor as college first-years! Anyway, Nu and KM made plans to hang out at the drag show this evening, and I even got to take them to the bookstore for soup and a sandwich before the show.

Nu liked being in class this morning where one of the things we talked about was why drag freaks powerful people out so much. (Ans. Because it transgresses what society tells us is possible. If we start imagining other possibilities, where will we stop? What if we imagine our way to better healthcare or out of tyranny?)

Anyway, the show was brilliant. And the student organization that organized the show and generously invited us was also absolutely brilliant. The queens are an ensemble out of Detroit, but the DJ is a (Fulbright short-listed) student and it was fun to see them behind a computer as I would in class, just doing very different stuff. The students seemed to have thought of EVERYTHING--on our table were sparkly beads, fun mocktails with umbrellas and crazy straws, zany club glasses, and EVEN cash for us to give to the dancers!

At the end of the night, one of the queens--Jewel Jubilee--said how it was a tough time to be visibly queer in this country, but that as she looked across the young faces in the room she felt strong and that by standing up for each other, we'll all make it through. That's the only time I cried yesterday.

Pic: Two shots of brilliance. 

trash turtles all the way down

I was worried about a dear friend who'd had open heart surgery last week. It made me feel a little better when I got to see their dear face while I dropped off some medication I'd picked up (they can't be alone, so I could either stay with them while their partner picked up the meds or pick up the meds while their partner stayed with them). 

I hadn't heard a peep out of my mom or sis for a whole day. So when the phone rang around 2 am, just as I was putting the puppies and the house to bed, I freaked the fuck out because I thought something was wrong with either my friend or my mom and dad. But no, it was just my mom calling to chat. I think she was a bit thrown off by DST too? Anyway. 

After that, I kept trying to read myself to sleep. Big A was at work, and then he texted to say he'd been attacked by a patient. That was it for sleep last night. I was so sad and worried for him and made him send me pictures and cried over all the scratches and bruises I could see.

And I got to hear the whole story today... I am sad for the patient suffering a psychotic episode in prison and then again in the hospital. I am sad for the security guard who gets paid minimum pay and is expected to put his life on the line--he got attacked first and Big A was trying to help him him when he got attacked too. There are no villains here. It's just awfulness all the way down. I'm just thankful there were no guns involved.
_______________________________
Pic: This made me laugh when I went thrifting this weekend because I needed new books for our Little Free Library (I got some awesome ones). I didn't get these books. They both have the same title--One Bite at a Time--it's just that they couldn't be more different in content: one is a book of recipes for cancer survivors and their caregivers and the other a collection of horror short stories!

could that be

Last night, I was hanging out with Max and Huck when Nu showed up in the rumpus room at 2:30 or so... They'd headed for bed hours ago, so I was confused, but they told me they were going outside to see the blood moon...

I had no idea! Nu is in an astronomy class at school and that's where they'd heard! Edcuation! Don't disband the Department of Education!

Anyway, we went outside and it was beautiful and surreal. I liked the reversal of Nu showing me something in nature.

Pic: My blurry phone pic of the blood moon. It's Holi today too, and for once it's warm enough to play outside but I didn't plan ahead.

Helping--Period

Lysne Beckwith Tait, founder of Helping Women Period and author of Instigator: Creating Change Without Being the Loudest Voice in the Room visited my class today. She is wonderful and fun and I find her story of starting a non profit addressing period poverty over the course of a week inspiring. She's responsible for some big changes in Michigan--like getting the tampon tax repealed.

And her "menstrual products petting zoo" is always a big hit. Reusable period products like cups, discs, and period underpants are usually in clamshell packaging in stores. Her "petting zoo" lets people get a feel of the products.

Her anecdote about having a booth at a true crime convention and noticing all the people dressed up as serial killers skirting the period supplies booth is hilarious. I will say menstruation holds little stigma for our current crop of young people. I love that they'll just dig around in their backpacks for a tampon in the middle of class and leave holding it openly. 

The big tip Lysne gave us about affecting change is to decide what change we want to see and then listen to many perspectives on how to affect that change. "Take your ego out of it." Sounds like good but tough advice. 

Pic: Lysne with my class. I love the sassy picture of Lysne we have up on the screen as well!

Happy International Women's Day!

It's so different all over the world! In some places, it's a well-deserved day of rest. Here, it is rightly a day of protest and action--especially this year. There was a rousing rally at the capitol this morning.

Then I culled some professional clothing from my closet to donate via L for the Women's Resource Center event. (How many navy blue polka-dot things and black slacks does one person need?!) I would have loved to go, but couldn't because I had to prep for the International Women's Day tea event at MacCurdy House (the feminist house on campus I advise). 

I headed over with finger food, fruit and cookies, and a vase of flowers (from my birthday haul, still going strong). The housies had put out decorations and teacups and were amazing hosts. We had lots of folks show up, so it's good that I over prepped as usual and many mugs of red velvet chai and peppermint tea were quaffed. 

Pic: Raising a cheer for women at MacCurdy. This picture makes me smile back--I love these smart, compassionate, engaged people who showed up for a semi-work event on a Saturday evening. 

And here are some previous iterations: 2024, 2023, 2022, 2020, 2019. (Also, I just went down a rabbit-hole searching "MacCurdy" and finding all the dear faces of people who have graduated and are doing amazing things in the world.)

"Fight Cancer not Canada!"

There is so much happening every day. A rally for science today, a postcard writing campaign and a women's rally and another women's rally tomorrow... L and I plan to divide and conquer there.

Nu wanted to stay home from school. When I sent the school absence report form to the family chat, Big A asked if Nu was just going to take all Fridays off from now on. That's not a bad idea for Nu. Or for me?

Pic: Posters from the Stand Up for Science protest at the Capitol building today. The one that says "Fight Cancer not Canada" is my favorite. Pic by L. 

Marching Forth Again

I had a full teaching day, talked to my parents on the way to work, got lots of birthday visitors at work, and just... a lovely birthday! 

Friends, thank you for your wishes--I felt surrounded by love all day and your wishes in multiple places helped... I am so blessed and so, so grateful.

I wish I'd come to appreciate the serendipitous significance of my March Fourth/March Forth birthday earlier, but I'm running with it now. This year, apart from fighting fascism, I hope to prioritize working meaningfully on some of my longer projects. This was a new year's resolution that didn't quite take, but this is a good time to reset, I suppose.

Big A texted to say he'd "fucked up the cake." (He usually makes the chocolate cake from the recipe on the back of the Hershey's cocoa box, but there was no Hershey's in the store... and chaos!). It was just terrific, BTW. Went out for sushi with the fam, Nu made me a Kandi bracelet, At gave me books, Big A gave me a leaf blower of my very own so we could have leaf blowing duels and the now-customary card scrawled with all the dear details of our year that makes me cry every time.

(Now I can't wait for tomorrow and to be allowed to do stuff again. My parents used to do this, so I probably brought this tradition with me, but the birthday baby isn't allowed to do *anything* over the birthday weekend and sometimes it makes me feel a bit like I'm on a rest cure.)

Pic: Clockwise--Kids (Nu, At, Max, Huck), cake, me.

March ahead

Oh, the dread that descended as I thought and wrote, "Midterm break is over" at the end of yesterday's post. 

The thing is, the week has been non-stop. I worked with the Baldwin Prize people out of Baltimore from Friday. I judged scores of papers for the national English Literature honorary society (Sigma Tau Delta) all week ahead of the convention at the end of March--the deadline for that was yesterday. 

And I chaired the Women's and Gender Studies panel of the Michigan Academy conference yesterday, but also had to go to the Board Meeting which ran late on Thursday because somehow I'm now a board member. And I had a paper at the conference with EM, so we had to work on that all week too, finishing up in a burst of energy after dinner together on Wednesday.

And then I realized that we didn't have any speakers for Women's History Month, so I scrambled and used my professional connections and asked nicely and got two amazing speakers for us-- Heidi Lewis, President of the National Women's Studies Association, (via Zoom) and Lysne Beckwith Tait, Founder of Helping Women Period, (in person). I got some other activities arranged on the Women's History Month calendar too (a student symposium, International Women's Day Tea) but these things are more within my own control. When you work at a small college, one wears a lot of hats.

And then some bad news: The editor of an anthology where I had an accepted submission said The University of Louisiana Press had decided not to go ahead with publication. But in the wings, another anthology submission needed urgent copy-edits approval. The copy editor wanted to remove the parenthetical notation of the novels' dates of publication on introduction--I think it's highly pertinent? Anyway, some back and forth on that. 

And as of this morning, back to regular upkeep of Canvas pages and class preps for my classes. (And oh, I graded *everything* by Tuesday.)

Looking ahead, there are additional things I've agreed to. There's a class for incarcerated students on the 18th--I'd already prepped this last year but didn't get to do it and I'm looking forward to it. And also I'm going to be on a campus-wide panel talking about 50 days of this administration on the 12th--that should be fun (NOT!).

I guess it's a good thing we had a midterm break so I could work on these things without juggling regular classes as well.

Happy March! Marching ahead! (Also, I'm glad I didn't take off for Turkey!! Neither did my mom and sis, actually.)

Pic: From under the Beal Street Bridge. A thin glaze of ice on The Red Cedar; brilliant blue skies and bitingly cold winds. I walked and walked and walked to clear my head.

wanting the kids to be alright

I found it so strange that two book clubs meeting this week read novels that were centered on missing kids. I don't think I'd have felt like reading either of these when I had younger kids myself. When I told EM this she chalked it up to me being likely to imagine At and Nu as the missing kids. Probably. I could barely bear reading these even with grown kids. And I doubt those worries go away entirely--Nu still texts when they get to school; At is off to Seattle tomorrow and will send travel updates. (Both at least partly per my request.)

I finished grading all the midterms this morning. (I'm teaching only two classes right now because I'm teaching a May-term this year as well, so it was relatively easy.) I'm so immensely proud of the way my students are thinking through problems and phenomena and coming up with amazing theses. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if I saw something like this as an abstract in a professional journal: "When reading Amelia Lanyer’s “Eve’s Apology in Defense of Women” I was struck by how much it reminded me of but also contrasted with John Milton’s Paradise Lost; both works reinterpret the story of Adam and Eve, and were published in the 1600s. I remember that Milton reinterprets Adam eating the forbidden fruit as an act of love for Eve since he knows that she will die and can’t bear to live immortally without her. If this interpretation (and memory of it) are correct, it could be interesting to contrast this to what Lanyer does with Eve, interpreting her giving the fruit to Adam as a similar act of love.These are just the beginnings of an idea, though, and I would have to modify it to better fit the vision of the assignment outlined in the directions." Interstitially, as students write out their ideas I get to learn about personal details here and there and am humbled by how much so many of them have to combat to show up and keep on. Each of those circumstances is made even more heavy by the antics of the current administration. I'm so weary of all this chaos and cruelty.

Pic: These book covers are so pretty, especially dappled by sunlight like this. I know I'm making something blueberry themed for The Berry Pickers bookclub on Friday. What is the alarming 3-D seeming Pepto-pink drip on The God of the Woods supposed to be?! (OK, I googled--it's the pink coverup paint in Barbara's bedroom.)

things I did I can be proud of

I called my political representatives about the government coup by Musk. I used 5calls.org and it's really easy as they hook you up with the relevant reps and provide a script if you want to use it.  

I tried something new... I applied to a medical  humanities conference over the weekend, and... I got accepted! I think I can use professional development funds to attend this one. (This reminds me that I ought to submit poems to journals. Some poems got picked up by anthologies last year, but I didn't actually send out any all last year. That's terrible. I shouldn't be so afraid of rejection that I never get accepted!)

I tidied my closet... and everything looks so bright and boutique-y. I catch myself going in there like a dork just to look at it. 

I got so many recommendation letters for students and support letters for colleagues done. I was talking to Big A about how I spend too much time on these when the prevailing advice is to get them done as quickly as possible. Reason #457865 to love him, he said of course it makes sense for me to do things in a way that leaves me feeling satisfied. (People depend on these things; I never feel like I can just dash them off.) 

Pic: A sord (I had to look it up) of mallards on a floe on the Red Cedar.

prepping < resourcefulness < generosity

According to this article in the New Yorker,  many Americans are prepping for a second civil war. Anecdotally, I've certainly encountered my fair share of people talking about stockpiling canned goods, taking selfdefense classes, and buying firearms and so on since the election. Some of this seems sensible.

Extreme prepping seems like a lot. I'll never forget watching Cloverfield Lane with the kids long ago and being horrified by the John Goodman character. My At sagely told me that that was kind of the point--if you accidentally live through the apocalypse, the people around you are likely to be dreadful.

And here I was patting myself on the back, for being resourceful because I had a stubborn salt stain on my black boots that I disappeared by using a black Sharpie. I think I picked this up from the Julia Roberts character in Pretty Woman. She might have used a black eyeliner, but it's basically the same thing--we just have different tools of the trade, I guess. 

Pic: This is Mr. Arlo who was a welcome gatecrasher at my meeting with the MacCurdy students. I am so proud of my students' generosity and proposals on how they could use their house (a women's resource center) as a safe and welcoming space given the possibility of federal freezes, raids, etc. This is the mode that makes the most sense. 

even the chipmunk does what it can...

One of my favorite bits in childhood retellings of the Ramayana is when Rama is building a bridge from the peninsular tip of India to Sri Lanka to rescue his partner Sita from Ravana who has kidnapped her. He has the help of his semi divine siblings and the Vanara army under the ace engineer and architect--Nala. But he also has the help of a little chipmunk who carries pebbles in its mouth to supplement the work of the huge army. Rama is so moved by the chipmunk's altruism, that he picks it up and gently strokes its back... and that's how the chipmunk got its stripes!

But the real point is that everyone does what they can to right a wrong. In fact, in some versions of the story, the chipmunk's pebbles cement the gaps between the giant boulders and are actually crucial to the structural stability of the bridge. I am reminded of this in so many ways. Two examples stand out for me today. One is StephLove putting her body on the line by protesting near the White House at the freezing of federal grants (the freeze has since been blocked by a federal judge). The other is a student who has been using their skill sets (English and Political Science) to annotate three significant executive grants so people can read and understand them more easily. 

Heroes. All the hearts. 

Pic: Huckie and Max, who clearly haven't eaten in days at the dinner table yesterday.

I'm a breathless miracle

I've been describing this week as breathless. Even so,  not only am I not caught up, I'm behind on rec letters, editing tasks, household chores, emails, phone calls, and even texts. 

I guess the weekend is for catching up now.

And perhaps next week will be more reasonably paced.

Some of the breathlessness is sometimes literal as in an incipient anxiety attack. And that's not surprising given the onslaught of attacks from on high trying to erase every progressive win of the last fifty years. I want to push back with something bold and expansive, like the Black Panther Party's 10-point program, instead of simply reacting to what is being taken away. 

And also, I got LV into my favorite form of "distractification"--we're planning a post-Valentine's potluck in Feb together. Instead of agonizing over the latest developments, our recent texts have been about guest lists and menus instead. So when LV, who is an art prof, suggested we make "milagros" I thought it was a cocktail. But then he started talking about how miraculous it was and...  I mean... I like cocktails, but I thought calling one a miracle was a bit much. It turns out they are little symbolic votives--we're going to do a craft! 

Pic: That's not a pond, it's the river--and it's still frozen. I saw people walking across it late this evening.

"life is never just one thing"

I didn't see Big A at all today. He'd worked an overnight in Ann Arbor and I left for work an hour before dawn to make it to an 8 am meeting. By the time I got home after a late evening at work, he'd already left for work again. 

But to quote Connie Schultz, "Life is never just one thing;" other than that, it was a lovely day. 

We inducted new members to the English honorary and it's always such a delight to see students dressed up for the occasion and meet their families. I mean... you think you see your students grow in the classroom and love their work and the people they are and then you meet their families and it's a whole new level of understanding how much they're cherished, seeing the wonder their grownups have about these humans they have made in one way or another. It's kind of transcendent. 

Also, somehow I was going to place an order with the catering company and then decided to do it myself and found myself after classes at MacCurdy (the feminist house I advise) borrowing their oven to heat up trays of hors d'oeuvres. And also, I have the best colleagues... ok, the best women colleagues--who seamlessly did everything from setup to clear-up. The whole evening was busy and bright and social and fun--all the stuff I adore. 

And then when I came home I was so tired I couldn't even bear the sound of the loud TV show Nu (who had no school today and has no school tomorrow because of our frigid temps) had on. I just wanted to sit with my arms around my babies for while. Then Nu went to bed, I FaceTimed my sister for her birthday (it's already her birthday in India!), and then snuggled up to read with Max and Huck.

Pic: This treat of lovely words and signature shortbread was waiting for me after my first class today. I did work hard today, but this wasn't about that. It's from a lovely and private colleague in another department and says way more about their wonderfulness than anything it might imply about me.

on the eve of an orange apocalypse

I've decided to pay the inauguration no attention. In my book, it's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day--I will be observing events related to that. I feel flags should still be at half-staff in honor of Jimmy Carter's death. 

Like Robert Reich, who has lived through McCarthy and Nixon, I too want to acknowledge that tomorrow might be a terrible day, and I too believe that our resilience and decency will get us through. 

Connie Schultz on perhaps her last visit to Sherrod Brown's D.C. office today noted, "So much change coming for our country. But I heard our grandchildren’s laughter nearby and felt the hope in that. Life is never one thing." Life is never one thing. Yes, that's true as well.

Tomorrow, I have a ton of work to get through and MLK Day events to attend. I'm meeting a friend for tea. I have a massage scheduled. At is coming to family dinner; I'm making a family favorite--egg paratha rolls. Look how inconsequential 47 is to all of these good things. Instead of responding to the circus (that way lies madness and despair), my focus is going to be on building up community and solidarity outside the system. Soon enough it will be midterms with a chance to make governmental change.

Pic: L's picture from Saturday's Lansing Women's March in protest against the incoming administration. I had an admissions event at work and couldn't go, so L sent me pictures to show me what I missed. There are so many people who are working so hard on our side.

not normal

The images of devastation coming from the California fires (in Winter!) have been so hard to process. Homes, memories, histories... wiped out... just like that. I can't imagine. And yet, of course I've imagined it happening to me, to us, over here. It's not difficult. We're all just one disaster away. I'm holding space and grief for all the people, land, animals, plants, water, air, and atoms affected by what was preventable. 

Today has been hard. I turned in final grades for the online Gaza course. Of the eleven students who had registered for "Literature Survey 2," just two graduated. I lost touch with the remaining nine, and hadn't been able to get a response from them in months. I will never know what happened to them. I imagine the best. I imagine the worst.

Of the two who graduated, D, promised to stay in touch "God willing, as long as we are alive, to learn from you." The conditionality was chilling. F, turned in work late once and apologized explaining that there had been internet outages and that their tent had been bulldozed. It made me embarrassed to receive that email. 

None of this needs to be anyone's normal. 

Pic: via Praxis-Archives 
#RestInPowerAaronBushnell

scribbling women, dogs walking, dog-writing, and bitches

When I first watched Bridgerton, I was struck by this remarkable line:

LADY WHISTLEDOWN: "According to the much heralded poet Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine."

And I meant to use it when I taught Women's Writing again (which is now). It is such a mash-up of Byron's famous misogyny, Hawthorne's hatred of "scribbling women" and Samuel Johnson's screed about women's composition--that it's like a "dog’s walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.” 

Also, while I was looking for the precise quote, I went down some interesting theory rabbit holes. While I was aware of Animal Studies, I wasn't aware that there was a specialized field of "dog-writing" that studies the intense relationships of women writers with their dogs (Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Virginia Woolf, and so on). (While I'm no Woolf or Barrett-Browning--in our family, Scout is known as my dissertation wolf and Max is my book puppy. I don't think I could have gone on without their steadfast attention, affection, and presence.) The word "bitch" crops up with increasing frequency in the titles of these works about dog-writing: "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch: Personal Criticism, Feminist Theory, and Dog-writing" or  Writing with the Bitches, etc. 

It feels like I've come full circle with the Bridgerton quote.

Pic: Snow falling in the "portal," which what L and I call this corridor of trees from her house to the street.

heart with the old

I just want to say yes            somewhere, I want 

since we must begin             to watch this again:                            

seeing my problem              through lit windows

and your proof                     where we're made 

                                                                                  without our own consent

                                                                                  like the worst bargain   

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Note: I liked writing and reading these couplets in columns, rows, and just mixing it up even diagonally. Somehow it seems to work as long as it ends up where we're born without our consent!

Pics: Last year this calendar lived on my desk at work and brought me joy all year long. Each jar-shaped month was topped by a cheery sprig of flowers and as I shuffled the cards in the bamboo holder from month to month, the composition of the bouquet changed over the year. I was sad about having to throw it out. But I didn't have to throw it out. I cut off the calendar part of the cards and now it lives on as an arrangement of flowers. Perhaps I could add a small picture of Scout to it.