You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, you just might find
You get what you need.
I wrote earlier that just before school started, I took an interview with a local university, my top choice of the fifty-plus schools where I applied. The interview was at the end of our last teacher prep day, a day when freshmen and transfer students would be on campus for orientation with their peer mentors. I awoke that morning with my stomach and my bed sheets in knots.
I hadn't realized how many of these students would seek me out in my classroom. I met about a dozen smiling students telling me how excited they were to be there and that they were looking forward to English this year. The knot in my stomach tightened.
That evening, in the university interview, I fell in love with the program all over again. I loved the philosophy and the culture of the program, and I knew I could make a home there. I wanted that position. But I had to tell the hiring committee that I was under contract for the year, and the call came just a few days too late.
They expressed regret and said something about the possibility of an adjunct position next semester. I was sincere in telling them how much I'd like that.
I walked to my car and suppressed tears.
That night, my brother texted me to inform me that it was one month before my 30th birthday. I replied, "Thanks. My day wasn't disappointing enough." I may have also made a vulgar remark.
He wrote back, "Really? You found out today that you were offered two jobs when most people in the country are not able to maintain/find one job. I think you're doing pretty good."
Damn his gift of perspective. He was right, of course. I told him I'd allow myself one day of mourning, then move on.
And, astonishingly, I did. Once my students walked through my door, I quickly fell into the rhythm of the classroom.
We've completed the first three weeks of the year, and I'm confident I made the right choice. It has nothing to do with contracts and leaving anyone in a lurch. This is just where I need to be.
9.04.2012
An Outing
I'm 29, female, a New York native, and an educator. And I'm a registered Republican.
"Especially in an election year," one of the advisers said, "some of the students may feel alienated because of their political beliefs. It's important we recognize the legitimacy of all our students' beliefs and promote tolerance."
This may sound absurd. (Did I imagine that some of my colleagues snickered?) But my entire professional life flashed before my eyes. What do we do if we ourselves feel alienated from our own colleagues?
As a teacher, I've only outed myself as a conservative to select colleagues and students whom I deemed safe. Usually they are obviously conservative. I usually make a joke about a secret handshake.
Seriously, though, I've generally found the academic setting to be inhospitable to right-wing ideas: to be labeled a conservative was to be labeled fanatical, heartless, barbaric. I feared that politicizing my views would alienate me from the colleagues who had otherwise respected me.
This is a great irony. Academia, a bastion of nonconformity, has discouraged me from breaking its ranks. Many teachers feign tolerance in the classroom but behind the doors of the faculty rooms laugh at students naive enough to consider voting for a Republican. "Don't these kids think for themselves?" one professor asked me in Fall 2008.
But if everyone is telling him to vote Democrat, wouldn't considering the opposing side make him open-minded?
I realize that there is some barbaric rhetoric spouting from the mouths of conservatives these days (and all days). This is perpetuated by the soundbites that run on 24-hour news channels and memes that flood the Internet. But there's some preposterous stuff coming from the other side, too. Understanding conservative ideals is more than the pro-gun/anti-woman oversimplification that it's made out to be.
We try to teach our students independent thought and a close examination of argument. We try to teach them to accept others who are different from themselves, to engage in discourse, and to work toward tolerance and acceptance. Why, then, have we not learned these lessons ourselves?
***
Today at our faculty meeting, we had a presentation from the advisers of a group that promotes tolerance in an academic setting. Although the group was originally founded as a support group for LGBTQ students, it has since expanded to all types of tolerance: race, religion, physical appearance, and political party affiliation.
"Especially in an election year," one of the advisers said, "some of the students may feel alienated because of their political beliefs. It's important we recognize the legitimacy of all our students' beliefs and promote tolerance."
This may sound absurd. (Did I imagine that some of my colleagues snickered?) But my entire professional life flashed before my eyes. What do we do if we ourselves feel alienated from our own colleagues?
As a teacher, I've only outed myself as a conservative to select colleagues and students whom I deemed safe. Usually they are obviously conservative. I usually make a joke about a secret handshake.
 |
| Photo Credit: My Dad |
This is a great irony. Academia, a bastion of nonconformity, has discouraged me from breaking its ranks. Many teachers feign tolerance in the classroom but behind the doors of the faculty rooms laugh at students naive enough to consider voting for a Republican. "Don't these kids think for themselves?" one professor asked me in Fall 2008.
But if everyone is telling him to vote Democrat, wouldn't considering the opposing side make him open-minded?
I realize that there is some barbaric rhetoric spouting from the mouths of conservatives these days (and all days). This is perpetuated by the soundbites that run on 24-hour news channels and memes that flood the Internet. But there's some preposterous stuff coming from the other side, too. Understanding conservative ideals is more than the pro-gun/anti-woman oversimplification that it's made out to be.
We try to teach our students independent thought and a close examination of argument. We try to teach them to accept others who are different from themselves, to engage in discourse, and to work toward tolerance and acceptance. Why, then, have we not learned these lessons ourselves?
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