Friday, June 29, 2012

A[nother] Change of Pace


Recently I wrote about my long and somewhat checkered relationship with further education which has led me to my current point of impending PhD candidature at Deakin University (I start on the 20th of August). The impetuous for taking on this academic challenge was planned major surgery to my spine which would have put me on sick leave from my teaching career for at least 3 months. Instead I’ve decided not to go back at all.

Last year I took leave to complete my honours year. It was a challenge I wanted to undertake and (unlike much of my other study) I didn’t want it to drag on forever so I elected not to work and to complete the study fulltime. My school gave me leave in order to do this.

Along with the study, last year was a time of much deliberation. I thought a great deal about what being a teacher meant to me and why I felt that my current school didn’t fulfill my needs as a teacher. I’m not ashamed to say there were tears. Tears of frustration and disappointment – frustration because I knew at some stage in my career I had been a good teacher and disappointment because I felt that I wasn’t allowed to feel that way in my current school.

At the start of this year, I went back to teaching until my operation on the 14th of May. I found being back in the system incredibly difficult, partly because it just is difficult and partly because, in my heart, I had already made up my mind. I had applied for PhD candidature but I didn’t yet know if I would be accepted—regardless, I had decided that I was going to quit teaching.

When I look back on my teaching career, I am very grateful for the opportunities it has afforded me. I’m grateful for the friends I have made; both students and colleagues. But I’m not grateful for the hours of my time it gobbled up doing administrative tasks; or the stress and migraines; or the sick feeling you get when you’re being drowned in work and there’s a deadline looming. I know my new ‘career’ as a student will include some of these but they will hopefully be much more under my control.

I hope.

So, I say goodbye to the Department of Education and Early Childhood Development, Victoria and hello to the Higher Degrees by Research Program, School of Communication and Creative Arts, Deakin University. Wish me luck.

Have you ever made a major change in your life or career? Do you have any advice to share about letting go of your past and embracing the new?

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Confessions of an [almost] perpetual student.


I like studying. There, I said it—you can have me committed to the Nerd Central Asylum whenever you’re ready.

When I headed off from home at eighteen to start my undergraduate degree, I had no idea it was the beginning of such a long-term thing. It was 1991, the state of Victoria was in the throws of Premier Kennett’s school closures and I had decided on studying for a Bachelor of Education and becoming a teacher. Four years later I donned the cape and trencher to receive my degree from Deakin University which was unlikely to lead to employment given the condition of state education at the time. For the next whole school year I put in countless applications for teaching positions to no avail.

Degree number one was a bust. So, the following year I decided that if I was going to be effectively unemployed anyway, I might as well continue to study. I went back to Deakin and I enrolled in a Masters of Education by coursework.

I didn’t get very far with the Masters, because in my attempt to get myself out of the unemployment queue, I took a job as a governess in Outback Queensland. When I had the opportunity to resume the study, I looked at the course material and decided that although I really wanted to be a teacher, further study in Education was not what I was passionate about.

There was another false start when I decided to study for a Graduate Diploma in Women’s Studies via correspondence through La Trobe University. I did the reading and found the content all very interesting but I struggled with the lack of contact with other students. This was in the days before online study—when correspondence meant materials and assignment posted back and forth and really no contact with others in the course. I withdrew before I got very far into that one.

While teaching at Lilydale High School, I met a colleague who had completed a few levels of Auslan at VicDeaf in Melbourne. This re-inspired my interest in sign language. I did the available short courses at VicDeaf then went looking for further means to extend my skills. My hunt took me back to La Trobe and I began a Graduate Diploma of Deaf Studies. I actually finished this one and it qualified me as an Auslan language teacher.

Not long after that I was down at my local Swinburne University campus for something entirely unrelated and I picked up a brochure on their short courses—both online and face-to-face. I was teaching fulltime at that point but had managed to fit in the face-to-face study for the Auslan course and the associated travel one night a week. I noticed one of the online courses was “Pleasures of Poetry”. Being online meant I would be able to log on when it suited me, do the reading, do the tasks and post them to a message board—much easier to manage than driving to night classes. I had been writing poetry since I was a teenager, I decided it was about time to learn how to do it properly.

“Pleasures of Poetry” was my first online study experience. I found that it was able to create the perfect balance between contact with other students and the flexibility to fit the study around my other commitments.

From there I went back to the Auslan and began to work on a Masters of Education by thesis looking at Bilingual Deaf Education. I decided to do the distance education thing again and enrolled via an interstate university. I figured that the distance wouldn’t matter with this one as what I would ultimately end up doing was a much more independent project and writing up a thesis on my findings. All I needed was good contact with my supervisor.

I had a number of problems maintaining that vital contact. He rarely answered my emails and when he did, he would only respond to one or maybe two of the three or four (or five or six) questions I had asked. I felt like I was floundering, I didn’t know what I had to do and nobody would give me the answers I needed. This was all during the preparation stages of the actual project, so I bailed on that one too. (Are you keeping count? What’s my completed to uncompleted ratio at this point?)

It took me a while to realise that I missed learning stuff but then in a fit of disillusionment with teaching I started thinking about one of the other careers I had considered at the end of high school—journalism. So, back to Deakin University where they offered a Journalism course that could be completed off-campus via their online learning portal. Perfect. I enrolled.

Because I was still teaching, I decided I would do this study part-part-time. Normal part-time was two subjects a semester; I elected to do only one. A couple of years and about 5 units into the course I realised I wasn’t particularly interested in the journalism subjects and, in fact, the ones that caught my eye were the electives from the more general Graduate Diploma of Professional Writing. So, for once, instead of just withdrawing from a course, I switched to a different one that suited me better.

During my studies in Professional Writing, I found out about a Summer School in Creative Writing held each year to correspond with the Edinburgh Book Festival, so I went to Edinburgh. I could have had these units count towards my Graduate Diploma but I chose not to because there were other subjects I wanted to do through Deakin—I wasn’t ready to stop studying.

Of course, doing the Professional Writing course one unit at a time meant that it took me a really, really long time to finish it. Plus I intermitted in the middle of it so I could go and volunteer overseas for a year and a half. So, when I got to the end of the Graduate Diploma most people didn’t know that I was finished. I started looking at doing an honours year and I didn’t really tell anybody. In general, people assumed I was just “still studying” to finish the Graduate Diploma. When I say I didn’t tell anybody, I mean, my sisters knew but my mum and dad didn’t.

I’m not really sure why I felt the need to be secretive about taking on the Bachelor of Arts honours. Initially, I told myself that it was because I was doing it ‘for me’ and it had nothing to do with anybody else. But ultimately, I think my failure at trying to do the independent study of the Masters by thesis was in the back of my mind and was worried I wasn’t up to completing an independent project. I wouldn’t have to admit that I had tried and failed if nobody knew I was trying in the first place.


I didn't fail, as evidenced by the silly hat, gown & hood with stripes!


As my honours project, I undertook a study of country towns and post-colonialism through the production of a number of short stories. At the end of a very intensive year of study, I had completed a suite of short stories and an exegesis totaling about 20,000 words and achieved first class honours. My results permitted me entry into Deakin’s Higher Degrees by Research program—to do a PhD.

My PhD project is going to involve writing more short stories (lots more) but this time I’ll be researching the concept of women as keepers of culture through cooking, recipes and stories. Not only did I not tell people I was doing honours, I also haven’t been telling them that I’m going to do a PhD. I’ve started to, but some of the people closest to me still don’t know. I’ve told work colleagues because I had to explain why I was resigning. I’ve told my sisters because they’ve known all along. I’ve finally told my parents, although not having had much contact with academia, I’m not sure they realised the significance of studying for a PhD.

And now I’m telling you. There, I said it. You can call Nerd Central Asylum whenever you’re ready.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Lacking Time & Motivation

Last week I started teaching again and instantly I regretted not having done more with my 12 months leave. Not because I didn't enjoy my classes, I did. I just became hyper-aware of how busy I'm going to be in the coming weeks and how little else I'll be able to get done. It's amazing how easy it was in my time off in 2011 to forget what the time demands of a teaching load are like.

In order to try to alleviate my guilt, I thought I'd try to focus on what I did get done and what I might still be able to do. There's no doubt I achieved some things in 2011 but I'd like to still spend time on things other than school this year as well. So, how do I manage to fit in time for writing, gardening, cooking etc when I feel exhausted at the end of the school day? Any and all suggestions are gratefully accepted.

I think to begin with I'm going to look at breaking things down into smaller tasks - let's face it, I don't have half a day to puddle in the garden anymore or a whole day on the balcony reading and rewriting a short story. But even before I think about how to fit more writing (and other things) in, I'm going to try to find places to submit the work I've already written.

I'll keep you all posted...

Monday, January 30, 2012

Gratuitous Gratitude

I have wonderful friends, a supportive and loving family, a ridiculously happy marriage, and a stunning home. But I worry that sometimes I don't appreciated my good fortune for the wonderful things in my life.

When I was a young teenager I began to get a real understanding of the inequalities in the world. I had grown up with images of hardship, poverty & hunger like those from reports of famine in Ethiopia but there was a particular watershed moment for me when a television news program showed footage of orphaned children in an institution in Romania. Quite literally, the politics of the country had abandoned and was killing these children--Ceausescu's regime had refused to admit that there was HIV in the country and these kids were HIV positive. One image of an emaciated child has stayed with me all of my life. I decided then that it wasn't 'fair' that my life was so easy simply because of the family, socio-economic group and country that was mine through the happy accident of being born into it. I didn't earn it, it just was. I didn't think at the time to be grateful for what I have, instead I was indignant and angry at what other did not have.

Then a few years ago I was explaining a dilemma we had to a friend of mine. My partner and I had planned a trip overseas at the end of the year and we were very excited about it but the predicament was that my partner wasn't working. If he didn't find work, we would have serious trouble being able to afford the holiday but if he did find a long term position, he wouldn't be eligible for leave by the time the trip came up. The friend I was talking to (let's call him Greg) said,

"You'll be okay, you two always fall on your feet."

Greg's observation has stayed with me because it wasn't until then that I really looked at just how lucky I have been. Of course, my partner got a six month contract so that we had the funds for the holiday but none of the hassles of having to get time off for our trip.

It's dumb luck really but I'm grateful. And I made a conscious decision to firstly realise how fortunate I am and secondly to be more grateful for the really quite amazing life that I have.

Today I had further cause to review my thoughts on gratitude. On my way home, I pulled over for a hitch-hiker. The woman explained that she was trying to get to her son's place to see him but the buses were running so infrequently that she decided to see if anyone would stop. She asked if I could just drop her at the corner of her son's street a little way along the road so she could walk up to her son's house. I wasn't in a hurry and said I'd drop her right there. At this offer she started to cry.

It made me think again about how lucky I am and that perhaps we sometimes take kindnesses shown to us for granted. It was an offer I made in an offhand way, driving two minutes out of my way to make sure she wasn't trudging uphill in the heat of the afternoon and yet she cried. How little kindness must have been showed to this woman in her life that such an offer produced tears of gratitude? It's a reminder to be thankful but maybe it's a reminder to be kind as well. There's always something to grumble about but I want to remember to be grateful for the good stuff because there's plenty of that around too.

And then there's being thankful for silliness of 'The Gratitude Experiment' from The Huffington Post which is linked to the title of this post...

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Smiling

And around my neck could be a flaming Christmas wreath,
And I’d be smiling under, smiling underneath.
Ani DiFranco


In the past week I’ve become highly aware of things that make me involuntarily smile. Of course, there are the usual things like seeing someone you love; a child doing something cute; or something that tickles your sense of humour. And then there’s icecream and chocolate (Or does that come under “seeing someone you love”?) But other things too make me grin like a goon, often to myself.

I’ve become aware of these other things that make me smile—ones that don’t necessarily make a lot of sense if you think about the fact that we smile (and produce a myriad other facial expressions) primarily as a mode of communication.

While watering my vegetable and herb garden two days ago I noticed that I couldn’t help smiling whenever I turned to face a plot of dwarf sunflowers growing there. Unlike the other plants in the garden, some of which I’m very proud of, the sunflowers give me a feeling of pure joy which has very little to do with feelings of achievement in growing them because they weren’t exactly a challenge. The seed of these sunflowers were a gift from a friend who is now living interstate and whom I miss terribly so, if anything, they should have prompted a feeling of sorrow but the beauty and colour of the sunflowers overcame anything negative and made me smile to myself, hose in hand.




My involuntary smiling at the sunflowers made me more aware of what can produce these smiles and feelings of joy so last night as I was driving home from Melbourne and had come over the Dividing Range into some wetter air I saw a rainbow and it made me smile. The day before I had seen a hot air balloon and it too had made me smile.


SOURCE: http://www.portalegypt.com/en/hot-air-balloon/

These things are interesting things to smile at but I think it comes down to how I feel about them. I’ve never been ballooning and I’m not sure that I’m particularly keen to go (although if someone offered me a ride, I wouldn’t say no) but I like the ‘idea’ of hot air balloons—there’s a certain romance to them. And the rainbow? Well, that’s probably a hangover from childhood and the fascination I had with them then. It wasn’t silly stories about pots of gold that caught my imagination, I just liked the colours.


SOURCE: http://rainbow-whirl.blogspot.com/

So, in the interest of smiling more often, I’ve planted more sunflowers in and around my garden and I’m going to keep an eye out for hot air balloons and rainbows.

What makes you smile?


Thursday, November 10, 2011

"Geek" is the new "Cool".

When I was in school they hadn’t even invented “geek” yet, those who fitted the bill (and I did) were referred to as “nerds” (and I was). And it was most definitely an insult. I was the studious type who followed rules, used manners and didn’t swear so the best I could hope for was when Michelle Rippingale said of me, “Debra’s kind of a nerd but she’s okay.”

Michelle followed up this initial comment with the affirmation, “Besides, it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch.” These words transfixed me because the idea of being mysterious far surpassed the reality of the fact that I was, indeed, up to nothing at all. It was the edgy kids, like Michelle, who were “cool.” A nerd could never hope for that kind of acceptance, it only happened in movies like Grease and Can’t Buy Me Love. Films that I devoured, as any nerd would, savouring for 90 minutes the fictional world where the whole high school ecosystem could be unraveled and somebody like me could get the guy and be gorgeous and/or sickeningly popular by the end of it.

Welcome, the internet, new information technology, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, and the social structure of being a teenager doesn’t seem quite so hierarchical anymore. Of course, this perspective could be due to the dulling effect of viewing the system from the outside but the structure seems less rigid and the lower castes of “nerd” and “geek” have been somewhat elevated to “IT nerd” and “computer geek” where their sought-after knowledge and skills imbues them with an importance and acceptance that nerds of my time could never have hoped for. But it’s not limited to IT either, this new perspective on nerds has established itself in mainstream television too. Take, for example, Matthew Gray Gubler’s character of Dr Spencer Reid in Criminal Minds or Jim Parsons as Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory. In my nerdy days, all we had was the annoyance of Steve Urkel who was designed to make us all cringe. The interesting difference between the nerdy heroes of the likes of Grease and Can’t Buy Me Love and the newer television manifestations, is that these modern-day nerds are also cool in their own right without having to change or pretend to be anything else.

When I went away to university, I broke away from the labels that had been assigned to me in high school. I shook off the dowdy cloak of nerd-dom and put on the cheesecloth and op-shop fashion of the broke environmental studies student. The luxury of going to university where I knew nobody and nobody knew me was that I could re-invent myself to my heart’s content. I was careful about it too—I tried to be honest with myself and others without being pigeonholed into a stereotype I wasn’t comfortable with. I was still pigeonholed, of course, but at least it was into a pigeonhole of (vaguely) my own choosing.

The luxury of age is that these days I don’t feel tied to or hampered by the labels, past or present, no matter how bad they may have seemed in my youth. I’m quite happy to be a nerd or a geek—although nobody could really accuse me of being an IT nerd, I did write the first draft of this post by hand, with a fountain pen. How old-school nerd is that?

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Strawbs

I wrote the story below while I was in Edinburgh last year and the post I was writing about my garden reminded me of it so I thought I would put it up.
__________


Strawbs

When Blue come back from the big smoke, ‘e was getting’ ‘round with a stick up ‘is arse. Mick said it was a pity it wasna sticka dynamite, we coulda really given ‘im a blast an’ it woulda served the snotty bastard right.

Blue ‘ad some big ideas these days, kept talkin’ ‘bout change. “Agricultural reform” ‘e called it as if ‘e gave it a big enough name, it’d make ‘im more important. That’s when ‘e decided we should all go organic. Mick misunderstood and got all huffy thinkin’ Blue had gone all queer and poofter on us,

“Wot-the-fuck did they do-ta-ya in th’ bloody city? Wotaya talkin’ ‘bout that kind of thing in the pub for? Me beer’ll bloody go flat, mate,” he tried ta laugh away ‘is shock.

“Nah, ya dozy bastard,” said Blue, “or-gan-ic, growin’ stuff without fertilisers and sprays. It’s big bucks in the city grocers.”

“Ah, sure,” Mick calmed down a bit, “but who’s gunna go ‘round and catch all the bloody locusts by hand? And howaya meanta grow anythin’ if you can’t spray for the little fuckers?”

But Blue ‘ad ‘is big plans and some’ow convinced ‘is old man ta let ‘im try a crop in the back block. Mick and me hadta laugh, we couldn’t help pitcha-in’ Blue out there in ‘is singlet and strides collectin’ up locusts to save ‘is precious patcha strawbs grown ‘orgasmically’ as Mick like ta say.