2-17-2005 just stole top billing for the worst day of my life. (Before,
it was a Monday when I locked my keys in my car, missed my first two
classes, and blew a presentation.)
Today, I found out I didn't make it into the program, for reasons
coursework won't fix. So I'm going interdisciplinary, the "senior year
panic button" I used to make fun of, 'cause that's the only way I can
get a degree before financial aid runs out, getting some kind of job
that'll supposedly help
somehow (Career Services allegedly has information on this), and coming
back
in a few years.
'Cause now I've got something to prove.
But there's still not a word for how much it sucks. The whole time I've
been in college, I've been working toward this program. All my life,
all I
wanted was to be a teacher. And it was almost real for a minute there.
3-2-05, ~10:15 Caffeine
just isn't doing it any more...
Jeez, I let this thing get out of date. Here's the update:
On the 17th of last month, around lunchtime, I found out I didn't make
the cut for the program next term. I went to the park across from the
APS building and cried for, like, an hour off and on. And then I had
the late-night shift 'cause it was Thursday. Bad combination!
Definitely beat out 5-10 of last year.
[later note: see also "New worst day of my life"]
But something in my brain must have kept working on it, 'cause a day
and a half later (yes, that would make it midnightish) the idea popped
into
my head.
I'm petitioning to enter the program on probation next term, and it's
definitely going to a committee thing. I don't know if that's good or
bad,
it just is what it is. Same with all my classes. I know I'm passing
everything
and right now, as long as I make it into the program next term I don't
care
if it's with all C's, and if I don't make it into the program next term
this term was pretty much underwater basket weaving so who gives a
crap?
(Yeah, crap was my first choice word.)
And there's a guy...but I'll yank entries from my other journal to fill
the gaps on that one. Suffice it to say we're both book nerds, at least
some of the same types of books...and I think he knows I exist...but
he's
in the program, the guy-to-girl ratio is insane, how am I
supposed
to compete with that?
And here's current events: I'm behind, at least in reading, in
just about every class; I got sick at the worst possible time which is
part
of that and part of why I didn't make the cut.
My ankle that I didn't screw up is screwing itself up, doubtless a
leftover from all the limping, working dishroom is doing things I don't
like to my back, and I'm tired all the time. Caffeine just isn't doing
it any more.
It's not that I built up a tolerance like my dad, either--this hit too
suddenly for it to be that. I think I just need to sleep for a week.
But I can't look forward to Spring Break, 'cause I don't have anywhere
to go but home.
There's family stuff too, so I don't really go home anymore--a few
hours the weekends I don't work, sometimes--it's been strained, at
least on my
side, since Christmas when Mom and
I got
in a fight--but I think she thinks it's OK now, and it's not, I
have
the same basic problems I always have. And I need to get back to the
Counseling Center but I'm just mad about the whole thing. She pulled
everything she pulled, and she still is, and Rianna and I are the ones
in therapy. I can't believe how much it hurts; I can't believe it ever
didn't, back when I took it all for granted, didn't know the difference
to tell how screwed up it was.
I can't blame my dad for not doing anything about it when we were kids,
Oregon
is probably the worst state to get a divorce in if you're a dad, but I
blame
him for not saying anything about it now. I'm almost 21, Rianna's
almost
18. We're too old to have a custody battle over. It doesn't matter if
Mom
gets mad at him and actually does file papers any more. He stayed
around
because he wanted to do the best thing for us, didn't want to leave
like
his dad and his dad's dad, but now I wish he'd actually say something
when
a fight breaks out instead of leaving us (me--Rianna seems to just go
with
the flow) to take it all. I know he means well; he just doesn't get it.
He's
a guy, after all, and guys can be dumb about some stuff.
I'm trying to think of a part of my life that's not screwed up. Work's
all right, I guess, my paycheck broke $400 this month. Dad's work may
be getting
health insurance that I may be able to use to throw some braces on my
teeth--keeping
that going when I graduate might be a bugger, but I'll deal with that
at
the time, there's always COBRA if nothing else works and I'll have a
job
by the time it's an issue.
OK, so it's only the big things that're screwed up. And the fact that
I should be buzzed, after 2 12-ouncers with caffeine.
3-6-2005 1:33 PM Has
anyone seen my brain?
I've been way too wound up all term, and I know it. Now it's
coming up on Dead Week, then Finals Week, and everything's coming
due...and, has anyone seen my brain? 'Cause I need it, and I miss
it very much.
I'm tired of being tired all the time, of having to keep my mind off
any kind of future plans 'cause if I think too hard about one way it
could go, I start choking up. And I don't want to end up spending
another hour crying in the park, so I don't think about it. But
if I can't get
in, am I just totally screwing myself?
The committee meeting's set for Wednesday of finals week, 10:00 to
11:30. I'm going to need one of the first slots because I have to
work at 10:45. And assuming it goes well and I make it in for
next term, I'll probably
have to make an actual effort to not get wound up just as tight next
term,
'cause I'm asking to be on probation...which was strategic, 'cause it's
something I think I can get, but there's a chance of getting booted at
the
end of the term, so I'll have that to obsess over the whole time.
I think I remember a time
when school was my refuge from stress. I know most people have
their families for that, but most people don't have my mom. I'm
used to family stuff not being how it's supposed to be, but now
nothing's normal for me and Spring Break's coming up and everything's
up in the air and I don't want to have to spend a whole week at home
because none of them get it.
A dream they didn't go after--that's easy;
that's "I would have done it if it weren't for..." and they're off the
hook. This is something I've been working toward for so long that
I can't remember what it's like to not be knocking myself out. I
can't remember not
wanting it.
How can my best not be good enough?
3-8-05 Sorry, no snappy quote today.
12-ounce glass of soda: 25 cents.
Cheese enchiladas: $1.10
Salad from salad bar: not sure 'cause it was weighed, but probably
about a buck.
Having enough time to eat it and do this because Chicano Lit let out
early: priceless.
Some things a meal plan can't buy. For everything else, there's Valsetz.
'Course, I'm still freakin' stressed out, 'cause I've got, like, no
time to do so many assignments...and SaveEnterprise.com keeps
luring me in, but that's a whole other issue. And I had a heckuva
time waking up and getting to class today; that's kinda normal but it's
still a real pain in the neck. Or maybe back; I'm again wishing the
student
clinic had a chiropractor. I'm going before the committee at 10:00 next
Wednesday, and yes, that does mean I'm going first--which SUCKS!!!--but
any other time would involve missing work. So I need to talk to
Caroline again, if I can ever remember, about what I need to make sure
to cover when I talk to them--do I just rehash my petition, or should I
try to bring something new to the table? And, heck, what are my odds
really?
10:10 AM a week from tomorrow will be the end of anything I can do to
make this better or worse. It's kind of like finishing a final exam:
maybe
it sucks, maybe it's good, but actions from that point on are off the
hook
as far as the result goes. I can't believe it's so close. I can't
believe
I have to wait so long. And I'm tired of knocking myself out just to
not
know.
According to True Colors, I'm a 23 (out of possible 24) Green, and for
a Green, "not knowing" is one of the prime stressors. So I don't
suppose it's
a surprise that I'm running out of fingernails. I know I can do the
program.
I just don't know if I can make them believe I can do the program.
3-16-05 The weird, calm part
The PARC thing got moved to 8:30; fortunately I found out in time
and made it. I don't know if it went well or not, I don't have
the
objectivity to tell anything anymore.
I turned my last final of the term in. I have a few work shifts
between me and spring break, but that hardly counts. The term's
over. I don't know yet if it was the best or the worst. I
do know that I
finally decided what I'm going to do if they don't let me in--go
straight
to grad school after senior year, at Prifysgol Cymry, or the University
of
Wales for the siaradwrs y saesneg (English-speakers) in the
group.
So, the worst they can do is send me to Wales for a year or two.
It's the weird, calm part of the term. Everything's
finished. Nothing I can do or leave undone makes anything any
better or worse.
It's 1:35 PM...and I've had half a bagel and some chocolate today...I
think I'll nuke a couple burritos.
3-18-2005
The appeal did no good, I found out today.
I've spent the last month and change hovering between guarded optimism
and choking up if I thought about the alternative. I managed to
push my way to deciding to try to get into grad school in Wales if it
comes down to it, and now it has, so that's what I'll be doing for part
of the summer if those plane tickets come through.
I mean--I'll try talking to the Dean, but I couldn't make round 1
listen to me, I couldn't make round 2 listen to me. I don't even
know what I'm doing wrong. It's almost like they're just
rubber-stamping what was already decided.
I'll just say it straight up: I feel like total crap. Not
crying--I did all of that the first time around, there's just no crying
left in me
for this--but it feels like getting kicked in the stomach all over
again.
So--this time next year, I'll have done another round of
applications. At least one or two colleges in the University of
Wales; Willamette since I can get a scholarship there; whatever state
school in Oregon runs a MAT program at elementary level for a safety.
It’s just unbelievable how much it sucks.
And it doesn't sit right with me that I did everything they told me I
was supposed to--and I was good at it--and because they feel a certain
way
about my personality, nothing counts. And I found out about it
too
late in my coursework to do anything except Interdisciplinary. I
make
fun of people who hit senior status, don't have the coursework for
anything,
and go Interdisciplinary, but now I guess I can't any more. But
I've
taken all the classes they told me to for what I wanted--it's just that
it's a course or two in a million different areas, nothing organized
enough
to be a major.
I could have taken real science classes instead of Frank's Fake Science
and be in the exact spot I’m in right now.
I could have taken more than three or four electives.
I could have taken classes that led toward a real major in something,
that maybe even would have challenged me a little in an area other than
time management to juggle 16-18 credits at a time.
I could have made time for a real life.
And the crazy thing is--if I'd done that stuff, made fewer sacrifices,
pushed myself on the timeline a little less, I might be able to make
the cut
next term or the term after.
It just doesn't feel right that I can decide everything about my
college experience by what the College of Education said they wanted,
and then,
after it's too late for me to do anything else, they can just flat
reject
me and there's nothing I can do about it.
3-19-05
(the subject before, continued)
I just wish people would stop telling me that they're doing things for
my own good, that they're on my side. They even said in the
meeting that the thing holding me back was my interview--done when I
was sick, so I don't see how they think they can tell anything from
it--and I offered to
be on probation for my first term so that they could assess me based on
my
performance and boot me out if I couldn't hack it. I know that
would mess me up a term on being able to get an interdisciplinary
degree if I couldn't, but I don't think that would happen, and I'm
willing to let that me by risk to take, my mistake to make.
And their suggestions for how to improve so that I'll make the cut
post-bac in a few years are bogus. They want me to work at
Sylvan--where they want certified teachers--or teach at a community
college--where they want to see Master's degrees, and I don't even have
the coursework for an undergrad degree with a real major because I've
been taking this insanely diffuse
pre-education coursework. And for the same reason, I don't know
any
one thing solidly enough to teach it at college level if I get under
the
radar.
I know I can do it. I know I can step my game up that far.
I've never yet met a challenge that I couldn't step up to, including
being a self-taught homeschooled kid and getting into college.
Yes, I've been
out of my element during this whole process--and going back into my
element,
the whole tutoring thing, isn't going to help me any. My grades
have
never been better than my first full-time term, when I was taking 16
credits,
in way over my head, and I literally got straight A's.
I need to be in way over my head.
Of course--if I wanted to really be in over my head, I'd go over to
Wales and just start teaching--they'll let you teach for two years
without Qualified Teacher Status and I could go through a Postgraduate
Certificate in Education program half-time in that time--crap.
That is totally something I'd do. I'd be so far out of my league
it wouldn't even be funny, or maybe it would be really funny, but
that's always where I do my best.
Now I need to go to the library tomorrow. This feels like there's
something to it--and if Stand and Deliver is right, if "all you
need is ganas," I'm overqualified.
3-22-05
I'm officially severely writer's-blocked. It's been pure slogging
through the last couple scenes, which represent several months of
outside-world time. Switching around among stories has been kind
of working--but now,
not so much. No matter what I try, I can't get into that
flow. When I try, I can feel my brain locking up.
School. Teaching. Writing.
Everything I've ever had going for me is getting severely screwed up.
And I can't make it stop.
And the school thing--I haven't called the Dean yet, I can't convince
myself it'll matter. At the risk of sounding cynical, if they had
a few ESL students apply and needed to not look racist, a white girl
with
a German surname would be just what they needed on the reject list.
I haven't decided yet, but I may be resigning from ClubED, or at least
not putting myself up for reelection for next year. I'm not sure
I can
in good conscience tell other people to take their teaching dreams to
Western
after this.
Everything about my life over the last few years has been more and more
focused toward this--to the exclusion of just about everything else I
didn't actually need to survive--and now I'm all but left with nothing.
I'll e-mail the Dean, I guess. What's to mess up?
But I still can't come up with any word for how much everything sucks.
I wish I could cry about it, but I've got no tears left for this, I've
got nothing left. I had my meltdown, I sort of deferred some of
the aftereffects by trying this whole appeal thing, now I've got
nothing. It's like the weird calm part of the term--no energy
left, nothing to use it on--but without a good outcome to hope
for. Like the sort of hollow feeling that gets mixed in with the
queasiness after puking.
It's way worse than hurting.
It's like the numb spot on my leg, left over from the wreck. It
doesn't feel like anything unless I press on it, then it hurts a ton
but
not in a way I can do anything about.
And car wreck isn't a bad analogy for this term.
3-26-05
Saturday, but 12:28 AM so it still
feels like Friday: The Dean's considering it or something--the
e-mail I
got back read like that standard autoresponder so I don't really know
how
it's going. I have an appointment 9:30 Tuesday, which I set up
myself
through Karlene. So--I don't know. Karlene says Gwenda Rice
says
to come to what I can of the Week 1 stuff until I know one way or the
other.
I didn't work this hard, this long, to not get in. If it comes
down to it, though, the Statesman Journal would love another College of
Ed story. It's been a few weeks since they had Welander to talk
about.
I wasn't even started yet. How can they think I'm finished?
This'd be the worst possible time to learn how to give up.
But I can't help wondering--every time around, I seem to feel like
absolute crap for a few days until I do something, even if it's
something I already decided to do if I had to. I have to wonder
if I'm just deferring
the aftereffects again.
And I would pay to see the statistics on what actually happens to
rejected applicants--and on how many people have actually gone through
PARC successfully. 'Cause if they're booting people who go on to
do well by going somewhere
else, and PARC's upholding the "indicators,"I have to wonder how they
justify
calling themselves the Policy Analysis and Review Committee.
Rubber-Stamp
Society seems, from my angle right now, to fit better.
If this doesn't work out--and I go somewhere else--I swear by
everything my clans have ever sworn by, I will fax them my middle
finger along with
something nice someone writes about me. And the story in whatever
newspaper
will take it.
On the good side, Enterprise tonight (last night for the purists, who
can go do something anatomically impossible) was "Similitude,"
undoubtedly
in the top 5 all-time episodes, and I didn’t see one ad that started in
anything like that g**-awful "These are the final voyages."
On the bad side, they ran another Veronica Mars ad in really poor
taste: "This poll shows that Veronica Mars is the show people want to
keep on the air"or some such thing. Are all the UPN/Viacom
executives except Coto sitting in "the circle," of That 70s Show
fame? How do they
think gloating about shows getting canceled will attract Enterprise
viewers?
And, on the weird side, there were no ads at all for future showings of
Enterprise. Is this the next step in their not-advertising
campaign--or did they have to ditch the plugs they'd cut, because Tim
and his lawyer have something cool to tell everyone soon?
I'm going nucking futs again.
And I can't help thinking it's weird that Enterprise started about the
same time as I started college--Enterprise is in trouble at the same
time as I'm going through all this absolute h***--it's got to be a
coincidence, obviously, how could it not be? But it's still weird.
2:42 AM: 11921 words in The
Journey before I started, 12478 something like an hour or an hour and a
half later. I would've been able to keep on except Teresa popped
in to get something, which I guess is fair 'cause it's her room, after
all, I just sleep here
on the extra bed that got stashed against the wall, but it still made
me
surface. 500-some words in an hour and change isn't great, unless
you
measure it against half a scene's progress in that story in the last
three
months. (They're still at the Springfest thing--Kerana hasn't
even
impulsively recognized Tam's existence or messed up her ankle yet, the
first
fire just got flamed up and before I started, the people leading off
had
just circled up. Which is also where it was three months ago.)
And anyway, I'm happy enough for being able to write anything. I
don't care right now that some of it will probably get yanked into the
Encyclopedia of the Humanlands if I'm ever lucky enough to be able to
justify such a
thing. OK, maybe a lot of it, I still don't care.
3:39 PM: Now that it doesn't
feel like yesterday, maybe I can squeeze out an entry for today.
I can't help wondering how many petitions PARC denies, but I've already
mentioned that.
I can't help wondering how many people who get shot down by PARC go to
the Dean.
I can't help wondering how well that usually goes.
I'm sure I'm hitting one-percent level or better on stubbornness.
I'm not sure the people making the decisions realize what that means.
I've got my plans for the first day more or less worked out. The
beginning of the second day too. Beyond that I don’t know.
I hate not knowing.
And it's reaching a level where I'm thinking about seeing if the
counseling center can hook me up with a pill to take the edge off if I
get into Term 1. I basically don't believe in using
psychoactives, but if they can give me something I can go on for just a
few months until I can figure out how to do it without drugs, that'd be
worth something. I wouldn't
stay on it much past the end of the school year, I think, maybe not
even
that long. But I also won't pass up anything that might help me.
If the Dean says yes, if I make it, I'll do whatever it takes--'cause
after everything, after what people've already decided about me, I'm
gonna
have to be that much better. Everyone's going to be looking for a
reason to boot me. Which I accepted when I asked for probationary
status so they'd let me in at all--but it's still one more thing.
3-28-05 Why's it have to
hurt?
I really do get that no one ever said it was going to be
easy. But I always thought that working at stuff counted for
something.
I know it has to be the right stuff--I can't make it as a teacher by
digging really deep holes in the park--but I've been doing, I thought,
the right
stuff.
It's the first day of a new term, I went to everything I was supposed
to today, but it doesn't feel like a new beginning yet. Every
other
new term, I've been able to say at the beginning, "It's a whole new
term
with nothing screwed up about it yet." I can't say that this term.
The only reason the family stuff isn't actively screwed up is I'm doing
the eggshell thing, avoiding everything. And that bothers me as
much as the other would, since everyone else thinks it's OK, and it's
not. See the poem I wrote last Christmas.
It doesn't have to be easy, that I understand, but why's it have to
hurt?
Grades are still OK. That's almost the only thing though, and
what're they really worth if they don't get me what I want and
need? The fact is, a transcript is just a piece of paper, and
there is no objective value in a long string of A's and B's. It's
like money: it's worth what
you can get with it. Apparently not very much.
My meeting with the Dean's tomorrow. What'll she say?
How'll it go?
All I can say is I don't know.
And I hate not knowing. I hate that worse than anything.
3-29-05
11:04 AM "This is one screwed up situation."
Or so I told the Dean a little while ago. She must not watch Enterprise or she would've
recognized the line from "Similitude."
I knock myself out, all these years, and now all I can possibly get for
it is a basically meaningless degree and a ton of student loans to pay
off. And the first chance I had to find out there was a problem
was too late
to do anything else.
It's not right.
And there's literally nothing I can do to change it, for years now.
So now I know what I'm doing for the term. I can get on the
homework and everything.
Somehow that doesn't help.
Somehow "Similitude" feels way too close to on-target.
Everything's gone now. Except instead of that being part of the
process, something that goes with what I was meant for, I'm just losing
what I was meant for.
I thought I was out of tears for this. Turns out I was
wrong. I could have another really good meltdown in the park if I
let myself.
So much for school being the part of my life that's not screwed up, any
time in the next year and more.
And just about everything else has just been a means to an end--and
that end has had to do with school, teaching, all that.
Everything has
been about everything I just lost.
So so much for everything.
12:31 PM
Would it actually kill people to not ask about it?
I can't even get lunch without running into three people I know, two of
whom I get pulled into conversations with. I shudder to think how
it would've been if I'd stayed in the dining room instead of getting
everything to go.
Three years. And now I've been stamped "not good enough."
I didn't just let myself down. I let down everyone who ever
believed in me.
3-30-2005 I had to do something stupid, or it wouldn't really be a
drama
I ran into Jeff yesterday when I was grabbing dinner. He asked how
stuff was going...so I told him, which ought to be fine, but I was
kinda a
jerk about it, I really got snappish.
So I e-mailed him later that night to apologize...and he still hasn't
written back. Could be he just hasn't checked his e-mail; I don't know.
I doubt he actually hates me, 'cause he's not like that, but all things
considered he'd be justified. I'm such an idiot, I don't have enough
people who believe in me that acting like this can be anything other
than absolute stupidity. And that it was Jeff of all people...I am such
an unmitigated loser.
4-2-2005 At least I'll be qualified to flip burgers
Jeff's not mad. Kinda what I figured; that's how he is. Not that that
makes me less of a jerk.
My birthday's next Friday. I'll be legal drinking age...which never
used to sound like it had potential. I'm not going to, it would be too
easy to do something stupid with how messed up in the head I am. Last
thing I need is to do something that could make my life worse.
I can keep my mind off it longer. But when I get to thinking about
it...I can't think of a night I haven't cried some. And sometimes
randomly during the day. And I can't get my brain really into gear for
any of my classes. Sometimes in class isn't bad, but homework's taking
longer than it should.
I probably need to go get my head shrunk. But they can't make my life
not suck, and I can't imagine talking about it'll help, 'cause for that
I'll have to think about it. And I can't imagine they have a pill to
make me not care that my life sucks that's strong enough to work and
won't mess me up the rest of the way on homework.
And every time I think about it, it actually looks worse. Like,
assuming I could somehow get in to grad school, exactly how would I pay
for it? Pell Grants are first bac only, as are most other grants. Loans
would
probably cover tuition and books, but not living expenses. So I'd have
to work, since no one can afford to keep me as a pet and anyway I won't
live with my mom. Also I wouldn't have this problem if it weren't for
letting down everyone who ever believed in me, so I've got no right to
ask them to fix it.
And if my problems are too major for this, how would I even get in to
grad school?
Pre-ed coursework hasn't exactly been a challenge; all I've really done
is practice time management to get stuff done. I haven't really learned
much. So I'll get exactly two things out of college: a meaningless
degree and a foodhandler's card. Which qualifies me to flip burgers. So
I'll
be able to choose between getting evicted from a slum apartment and
going into default on my student loans.
If I were any more of a loser I wouldn't actually have a pulse.
4-4-2005
11:27 PM-12:27 AM (I couldn't
make that up!)
I'm reminded of a Gatorade commercial...
ClubED was tonight again. Every time I hear someone talking about
starting the program, it's like getting kicked in the teeth. But
as of tonight, I think because of some outside reading I've been doing
trickling into my thought processes, I think I know what I'm going to
do.
It doesn't have to happen to anyone else.
But let me rewind for half a minute. I went to Salem yesterday to
get a Spanish dictionary and some recreational reading from Borders
(the outside reading I mentioned). On the way back I got my first
speeding ticket--I'm pretty sure it's bogus but I have no real way of
fighting
it and my mental state of late is hardly in my favor, so I sent the
slip
in with a No Contest plea and a statement of mitigating circumstances
on the order of "I was doing the safest thing I could at the time by
focusing on other cars, not my speedometer."
There is NO WAY I was doing 72--I know what my car feels like at that
speed from other times--but I can hardly use THAT as my defense.
I was really polite, though, I even thanked the cop when he gave me the
ticket, 'cause I bet that confuses the crap out of 'em. At least
this happened in the part of the term where I can take the bank hit
from the ticket. My insurance'll go up, but I've had my license
for
a little over a year now so not like it would if I'd gotten the ticket
last month, and it was gonna go up anyway 'cause I'm turning 21.
It gets so much worse than this.
And, weirdly, I think that might be what started me snapping out of
it. I didn't cry last night; I haven't cried since.
That and the reading. And something the ED 483 instructor said on
Thursday that's been also trickling through my brain. And
ClubED's thing tonight, that the NEST mentors did. But it
crystallized for me afterward.
It's gonna be like getting kicked in the teeth for a long time when
people talk about getting into the program, being in the program.
But that's my sacrifice, and hopefully this will be my legacy as a club
officer.
Right now, it's possible to
have an actual one-on-one with Dawn Wildfang once and only once, in the
second term of junior year to do a degree plan for the application, and
do the rest through group advising sessions. And the people who
do
it that way probably have an overlap population with the people who
need
the one-on-one the most to find out about stuff like what's holding me
back.
The thing is...if I'd found out earlier, I might have had a chance to
do something about it.
Now, Dawn's schedule is slammed, I understand that. And anyway
she's a coursework advisor, not a counselor. But we have those
here.
ClubED is known on the College of Education's student links list as
"The official College of Education student organization." So
maybe
it's time we start acting like it--asking for stuff in the students'
interest to be done, not just planning parties.
And if not us, who?
First of all, I don't agree with one thing that was said about this
"Intergenerational Mentoring" thing--that the idea is to focus on
juniors,
seniors, and first-year teachers. Maybe at other schools that
would
work but not Western--any time junior year would have been too late for
me. We have to get the sophomores, and the transfer students the
second they show up. Like, if I'd found out in spring of my
sophomore
year, that might have been time.
And once we get them, we have to have something for them and find out
which ones need it. We need to come up with some kind of
supplementary materials for the practica--even just something for
students to voluntarily do--so that it's not just a case of being in a
room for so many hours
a week. And we need to get the College of Education to talk to
the Student Counseling Center and come up with something students can
use
a counseling session or two on in sophomore year or so to find out if
there's stuff they need to work on.
It still won't get everyone; some people just don't take advantage of
what's available to them. (Which I guess means I need to use this
year's sessions while they're still there for the family stuff.
Bloody blazes that's going to suck; I'm still mad about my mom being
the
one not in therapy, not even
admitting she should, when her being messed up is what messed up Rianna
and me.)
But it would have gotten me, and it'll get the people who want it bad
enough. The ones who don't want it bad enough would probably be
in the 50% that wash out in the first three years anyway.
So if ClubED will be doing this, maybe with variations based on what we
can pull off, I'm in for the duration. And if not, I'll train my
replacement as Webmaster and come to meetings to hang with my friends,
because that's what I can live with. I can't be an officer in a
club that won't step up to this.
And when they'll take me, I'm coming back here. Not because I
have to prove anything to them. Because I have something to prove
to myself.
When they'll take me.
Not if.
I shouldn't have had to take it to the Dean to get feedback that made
sense. From what one of the professors said at the Ed program
orientation thing that I went to the last half of last Monday in case,
I'm "the one who..." which means a couple of things--1) my stubbornness
is legendary now 2) because most people don't push it that far.
Which is no
surprise, but it means most people don't push it far enough to get
something
they can use.
That has to change. And that, I think, I may be able to help make
happen.
Oh yeah, and what the ED 483 instructor said--but let me give the
context first. He was wondering what the WOU policies on on
during-class breaks work; one of the other girls said something to the
effect of a
10-minute break after every 50, which is right for your average class,
but this was a 3-hour time block with 15 minutes at the end already
built
in as break, so theoretically there would be 15 minutes of break
somewhere
in the class...and I said so, with the reasoning. So he said the
two of us were future union presidents, well-versed in the contractual
stuff...which got me to thinking.
I never really saw myself as leadership material. I've
deliberately never angled myself into place for being president of
anything since
I started an online homeschool club, and that was mostly so I could
write a newsletter. But now that I think about it...I'm not
actually
the way I know I come off sometimes, even to myself, kinda
pushover-y. I get it now; I got burned by crap people said to me,
one time too many, and I don't want to be a person who says that.
But the thing is...I won't, I get it now, I just have to go with my
instincts. The ones that said to back off a little, talk about
other stuff instead for a
couple minutes so the kid could pull himself together, and give the
crying kid a Kleenex already!!! (And I think it would've worked
if I'd
actually been in charge of what had happened right afterward.)
The instincts that I also used to keep five special ed kids in line on
a project while the rest of the class was doing test prep--I wasn't
crazy-strict,
I know what that looks like, but they got the project done and didn't
make trouble. The instincts that I used when a first-grader was
sent to room 6 for time out and ended up left there longer than he was
supposed to be and wanted to leave, in fact said he was going to, and
I kept him from leaving with nothing but words saying I thought that
was a bad idea, while making a chart.
It's been fear of saying something wrong that's been paralyzing
me. And now...now I think maybe I'm done with that.
If I'd known this last year--heck, maybe
if I'd known it at the beginning
of this fall--I could be in the program right now.
And this doesn't have to happen to anyone else.
So I'll now be taking on something pretty major...maybe even the kind
of thing a future union president might take on...so maybe the
instructor was on to something. It'll mean using everything that
right now
I don't have. Trial by fire, straight up.
Which is why I'm reminded of a Gatorade commercial from a while back:
"Sometimes getting to heaven means going through hell." (Which
is, in this sense, a place name, not a swear word, so EAT THAT
censorship
people!)
This is my sacrifice.
This is what I can do.
And somehow, I think it's also going to be exactly what I need.
~current~
Archives in reverse chronological order:
~recent (latest
entries first)~
~Starting over (in progress)~
~So this is
what it's like to not be good enough (earliest entries first)~
~interlude,
including still more family stuff (earliest entries first)~
~Junior Year Begins,
including more about my mitochondrial DNA (earliest entries first)~
~Summer before Junior
Year, aka "This is why I worry about my mitochnodrial DNA"
(earliest
entries first)~
~When I started
at Western... (earliest entries first)~
~When I went to
Chemeketa... (earliest entries first)~