Tag Archives: advice

Less is more, more is less, more is more

I have a long standing joke with my younger sister that my life philosophy is MORE IS MORE. Her house, her style, her basic approach to life is understated, clean, simple, elegant. But me? I’m crowded, messy, saying yes to too many things, feathers in my hair, 3 kids in 5 years, more is more is more.

Last week, I found myself hunched over Kate Millett’s Sexual Politics, prepping for class at the last minute, again, while trying to simultaneously answer phone calls and update my list of which mom was bringing cookies/juice/pin the heart on the skeleton/owl stickers to the preschool Halloween party.

I realized I’d been reading for 10 minutes by the clock but hadn’t actually read anything. And I didn’t know if cookie mom was also bringing the frosting. And the alarm on my phone that reminds me to go to class was ringing.

“I think my brain is full,” I said. “I think I’m doing too much.”

The lovely, amazing faculty member who shares her office with me stopped typing and said, “You always say you just need more time. But this is not that? You feel like you’re doing too much?”

And then she asked a really obvious question: “What do you want to do less of?”

And I was completely stumped. Less hands on time in my kids classrooms? Less time working at a job I love? The things I want to do less of I’m already neglecting: housework, for example.

I’ve been thinking about that question all week. What do I want less of?  What could I live with less of? What could I do better if I did less? What would I get more of if I was willing to let go of something else? I don’t have any answers yet. Letting go is my absolute worst skill. Like I said, I’m more is more is more. I hold on tenaciously. But oh, my brain is full these days. So maybe it’s time to rethink that life philosophy.

It’s NaBloPoMo! I’m blogging every day with the amazing writers at yeah, write. Because even though this entire post is about how I need to do less, at 11 pm on November 1 I decided that actually, I need to write more.

Quittas and Post-Ac-ers: What should I tell the smart kids to do in addition to grad school?

Thanks for all the kind comments on my last post. Things are looking up. Sometimes drugs really do help.

* This post was edited to make clear distinctions between my personal experiences and personal conversations about grad school and my professional work as an academic advisor. Under no circumstances would I ever tell an advisee what they should do with their lives, or say “You should not go to grad school.” That’s not my role. — lauren

Work is busy, busy, busy and I’ve been thinking about how I could reframe my sad mindset about having lost something I love, and instead focus on new opportunities to learn that are available to me now. One interest that keeps pushing its way to the forefront is working with honors or high-achieving students.

Brainy hjw223 via Compfight

This is new to me: I spent the last 5 years teaching in developmental programs for at-risk students, at 4-year and community schools. Most of my PhD studies the second time around focused on literacy instruction for struggling college students. I’ve spent my teaching career really interested in that trailing end of the bell curve, and believe deeply that most students are capable of success with the right support.

But now I get to work with the opposite end of the bell curve: students who were high school rock stars, or kids who just started college and are feeling that rush of “Ahh! This is what I was waiting for! This is my place! I’m really good at this!” These are my double majors, my smart asses, my “can I minor in Spanish AND do a certificate in entrepreneurship AND a double major in psych and bio? How about study abroad?” kids. These are my kids in the sense that, they are who I was as a college student. Continue reading

Academia Myths & Mismatches E-Course Review

Jo Van Every and Julie Clarenbach are post-academic career coaches. I’ve seen both of them crop up on Versatile PhD and in various post-academic google searches, and became curious about their services for those of us exiting academia. They offer a free “Myths & Mismatches” e-course at their website, and were kind enough to allow me to write a review of it. (I received no compensation, and I approached them for permission to write the review.)

Academic Coach Taylor needs to branch out into post-academic coaching!!

Myths and Mismatches is free, first of all. So that’s good, especially when you are a broke-ass ex grad student. And they don’t hook you in to a bunch of spammy crap when you sign up: bonus! You receive the “course” in 10 emails over the course of 10 days, alternating between the myths (lies about academic life) and mismatches (structural factors of academia that misalign with aspects of regular life or individual personality).

The myths are bracingly vulgar and completely accurate. In Myth #3, “Merit is everything,” they write:

One of academias very favorite myths is that everything within it is based on merit. Only the best students are accepted to the graduate program. The best students get fellowships and scholarships. The best students get the best jobs. The best work gets published. The best candidates get tenure. And then theres the flip side: If you didnt get in to the program of your choice, its because you werent good enough… Even when we choose to walk away, these stories of failure dog us. (In our own minds, if nowhere else.) Leave before tenure? Its because you couldnt hack it. Decided not to go on the job market because you didnt want to stay in academia? You wouldnt have gotten a job anyway. Decided not to finish graduate school because its making you hate the universe? You werent smart enough to finish.

Excuse our language, but this is all a fucking load of steaming crap.

Anyone who’s spent a few hours with grad students will find the myths resonant and refreshing.

The mismatches are a little harder to make sense of, just because I wasn’t ever really sure what “mismatch” means. Does it mean I’m a mismatch for grad school? Or grad school is a mismatch for the real world? The mismatches seem to come from nowhere and have no locus or agency. For example, in Mismatch #1, “Mismatch of Opportunity,” Jo and Julie write:

So much of academic success is really lucky timing — being in the right place at the right time with just the right set of skills and credentials and time and money and space. Some of this can be engineered — but some of it can’t. And because it can’t, many academics find themselves with a mismatch of opportunity… They aren’t failures any more than not being able to be President because you were born overseas is a failure. It’s an unfortunate situation, but it’s got nothing to do with you personally. A mismatch of opportunity is just that — a mismatch — and it’s more about timing and luck than it is a comment on your worth as a person or quality as an academic.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this (or some of the other mismatches): they seem to say, “It’s no one’s fault, that’s just how it is.” I appreciate the effort to alleviate guilt and negativity, but am not sure “mismatch” is the best way to describe these structural aspects of academia that make them horrible places for most people to make a life. At the same time, I’m not sure what else I would call them, and certainly don’t know if I could find another M word that would give them that nice alliteration in the titles!

If you’re looking to deprogram from the cult of academia, this is a great place to start, just to reorient yourself to reality and boost your confidence moving forward. But I think these would be even more powerful as preventative measures: if you’re a college kid thinking about graduate school, sign up for this e-course. If you’re smart and kicking ass in your coursework and wondering where to take your hotshot self next, take this e-course. Like forest fires, graduate school is best prevented. Read these essays and ask yourself if you are really the exception to the rule for every mismatch. Ask yourself if you have fallen for some of the myths they describe – I certainly had – and what changes when your eyes are open to these fantasies about academic life. Then please, do anything but go to grad school. Hire Jo and Julie, or post a comment here, or go camping: just say no to grad school.

Cycle! Cycle! Cycle: How we taught our kids to love the Tour de France

It’s been an exciting week in our household. Margeaux learned to walk, for starters, and I am still getting accustomed to the sight of her toddling, vertical, down the hallway and around the corners. But that’s just the beginning of the awesome! We walked in a Fourth of July parade, swam in a pool, used enough water to power the Bellagio fountains to keep our garden green in an oppressive heat wave, caught fireflies with friends in town from Philly, and spent approximately a billion hours watching the Tour de France.

Vintage tour.

Here’s why I love the Tour, and why I think you and your kids should watch it too: Continue reading

Don’t beat the heat: 10 Ways to imagine yourself happy in the heat.

Oh, world.

Were you aware that it is fucking hot?

I’m not one to complain about heat (other things, we’ve established, I’m happy to complain about). I lived in Oklahoma for 12 years, where heat indices of 103 are de rigeuer (check it and see). When my Iowa friends start sweating bullets as the thermometer pulses past 85, I sorta smile. It’s a real privilege to complain about a 94 degree day with a cool breeze, in my opinion.

And yet, I have to acknowledge: it is really hot. My facebook feed teems with updates that:

  • describe what people are doing to beat the heat
  • complain about the heat
  • complain about people complaining about the heat
  • fret over global warming

I’m no fool; global warming is for real. But I find it amusing that people think we are witnessing the end times because of a few hot days in July. Check this, for example:

While setting hundreds of new heat records, the most notable aspect of the current heat wave gripping the central U.S. and spreading east is the associated humidity. In the upper Midwest Monday, the combination of heat and humidity brought widespread heat index values of 110+, with numerous 120 degree readings. The peak heat index occurred in Knoxville, Iowa, which reached a suffocating 131 degrees.

This was written in July 2011. Yes: it has been hot in July in years past. Wikipedia teaches us that it has been hot in July many times in the past. My friends, it gets hot in the summer. So I just don’t see a purpose in getting angry about it, or trying to avoid it. Yes, all right, FINE: my kids and I spent 8 hours inside yesterday watching She-Ra and eating no-bake cookies. But really, the best thing to do is go into it. As with many things — swimming in a cold lake, childbirth, writing an essay that feels like it’s going nowhere — the way out is the way through. We may grit our teeth at the prospect of two more weeks of this heat. We may despise how trapped we feel and how annoying our kids are becoming. We are angry and want to run away. But that shit will not change the weather. This is the absurdity of our summer condition. We must imagine ourselves happy in the heat.
In The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus uses mythology to deal with man’s existential crisis. Sisyphus’s story is simple: he did some bad thing and pissed off a God, and his punishment is to roll a boulder up a hill. When the boulder reaches the top, it rolls back down, and he has to start all over again. Camus likens this to the human experience: condemned to repeat the same things day after day; and, if you follow the existentialist philosophy that there is no God and therefore absolutely no larger point or payoff to life, it can feel pretty fucking bleak. Camus asks the simple question: Must we commit suicide in the face of this pointlessness? NO, he concludes. He writes:
What counts is not the best living but the most living… The struggle itself [...] is enough to fill a man’s heart. We must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Camus asks us to embrace all that the unreasonable world has to offer. So, be like Sisyphus and imagine yourself happy in the heat. After all, we can’t change the weather.
10 Ways To Embrace the Heat:
  1. Wear less clothing. “No shit, Sherlock!” you’re saying, but seriously, this is a common mistake. When I lived in Oklahoma, I packed away everything that went past my knee or elbows. I lived in skirts, shorts, and tank tops. Are you wearing jeans right now? Did you layer your shirts? Were you foolish enough to put on close-toed shoes? Amateurs! Change into something else and see what a difference it makes.
  2. Put a fan on your porch. Moving air makes all the difference, even if you’re in direct sun. If you have a covered porch with an outlet, plug in an industrial fan and sit outside. You’ll get used to the heat. I’m outside right now, on a covered porch with ceiling fans, and it’s 90 degrees. I feel completely comfortable.
  3. Get up earlier. During my last summer in Oklahoma, I got up at 6 every day and immediately went for a walk (this is back when fitness was a priority for me). Play before breakfast instead of after breakfast. Get your outdoors fix in before Ellen (or, if you’re a hipster nerd like myself, before On Point). (I love you, Tom Ashbrook!)
  4. Get wet. I bought a swimsuit last week for the first time in 6 years and it’s amazing how much cooler you feel when you’re actually playing in the fountain or swimming in the pool instead of sweltering alongside it. Get your suit on, set up your hose or sprinkler or mister or sink sprayer, and get wet. Suddenly 95 feels comfy.
  5. Listen to music really loud. It feels more like an awesome montage in a summer camp movie if you are blasting “Panama” by Van Halen then if you’re listening to NPR.
  6.  Drive faster, with the windows open. Create a breeze. According to the Car Talk guys, the drag created by open windows is probably as energy inefficient as using your AC, anyway. Combine #5 and #6 and you’re halfway to a brilliant and beautiful summer memory.
  7.  Nap in the sun. Lather up with sunscreen and try do this off peak hours. Then you’ll see why cats like it so much, and, bonus, you’ll feel absolutely frigid when you go in the shade or AC.
  8.  Get yourself on a boat. How long has it been since you went on a boat ride? Did you forget that boats are fucking awesome? I don’t care how much of a city mouse you are, flying across any lake — even a dirty, syringe-filled lake — feels incredible. 
  9.  Two words: ICED. TEA. It doesn’t even have to be sun tea, although that is obviously the best kind. We get cold brew bags and stuff our mason jars full of chipped ice and mint leaves or lemon wedges. 
  10. Fruit. It’s on sale. Buy as much of it as you can fit in your trunk and eat it all, tonight. Make your whole meal out of fruit. Bonus points for super cold and refreshing citrus fruits like grapefruit and oranges. I rarely bought fresh fruit when I was a swinging young working single non-parent, but this is the time to take a gamble on a flat of strawberries and challenge yourself to use it all up.
There you go. I bet you are feeling better already.

Book Review: Who Gets to Name Grandma: The Wisdom of Mothers and Grandmothers, by Carol L. Covin (aka the Granny Guru)

When Dorothy was about 3 months old, my mom and I had the following hilarious conversation when I arrived to pick D up from my mom’s house after work:

Mom: She must be just about big enough for rice cereal. Has your doctor talked about starting her on cereal yet?

Me: Ummmmmmm…. I’m not sure when we’re starting cereal. I’ll look in the What to Expect the First Year book.

Mom: You know about baby rice cereal, right?

Me: (confused, because this seems like a really obvious question) Yeah, it comes in a box in the baby aisle.

Mom: I’m asking because when I suggested rice cereal to T this morning, he got really quiet, and then he said, “You mean Rice Krispies?”

To her credit, my mom insisted that I should not tell Tyler that she had revealed his confusion about what whether Rice Krispies constituted an appropriate first food; she and T’s parents have been tremendously helpful, kind, and respectful of boundaries since D was born. No relationship is perfect, but on the whole, we feel incredibly grateful to have them as part of our girls’ everyday lives. Continue reading

Moving Out of My Grad School Office & My Academic Home

In case you’ve ignored everything we’ve written so far, I quit grad school this semester. I mean, last semester. Because the semester is over, which means… yeah. I’m done with the whole thing.

Scheduling a somewhat spontaneous, short notice road trip during the final week of the semester meant that I didn’t have a lot of time for sentimentalism while wrapping up courses, packing up my office, and turning in my key. Nevertheless, I had a bit of a lump in my throat as I hauled out boxes of books, knowing that this was likely the last time I’d walk through these hallways.

EPB houses English, Rhetoric, Philosophy, and a couple other little CLAS departments. I moved into the EPB shortly after we moved to Iowa to start grad school. EPB stands for “English Philosophy Building,” but we more lovingly refer to it as the EXTREME PARTY BUILDING!!!! Continue reading