Thoughts and Words Ill-Sorted

We just made one of our biannual pilgrimages to the library book sale, resulting in a credit card charge of $10,000.75.

Sydney

“You may feel the need to touch my stomach.  Beware that I may feel the need to clock you before you get there.  I’m very protective.”

Erin

(to be worn when out in out in public, and not when amongst friends)

After French class yesterday three of us found ourselves walking the same way through campus.  With midterm season in the air, I wasn’t surprised when one kid started wondering whether the class was curved.  As he talked he used a term once and I raised an eyebrow, but the second time he used it I was struck speechless; in explaining why he was worried that the class was curved he said “I hope it’s not, because I’m at a disadvantage since I haven’t taken French before.”  This is, by the way, a beginning French class, and those with background in the language are tested and generally moved up to another class.

I was surprised, honestly, that he had the gall to dig out “disadvantage” when even I could tell that only one student in the class had had any previous French training and many, like the other kid walking with us, were learning French through an English that was obviously a second language; originally from Singapore, the third member of the party had a pretty heavy accent, so I had a hard time understanding his French, but I could see that he put lots of time into his work and had his French rules down pat.  The “disadvantaged” speaker, however, had been handing out excuses from Day 1 about his mediocre performance.  The first day I joined the class he and I were partnered and he seemed embarrassed to find himself paired with a stern and older woman, muttering something about “This is the first time I haven’t come prepared to class.”  If it was the first day, it certainly was not the last.

As I started thinking about how he approached class, always coming up with excuses, always seeing himself as at a disadvantage with respect to the other students, I got both very angry and very disturbed.  To see one so young crippling himself with such a view of life, always thinking the deck was stacked against him–it was really sad.  I wish I could rip “disadvantage” out of his vocabulary and out of his brain so that he could stand on his own two feet.

Erin

I’ve had a number of inquisitive mothers and grandmothers asking about what I know about the baby thus far, how soon I’ll know x, y, and z, and all sorts of other things that I get the impression a number of other expectant mothers might know by this stage.  As one who usually wants to know things very badly, I’m amused by myself and both them as I answer “I don’t know.  As far as I know, everything’s fine.  But I don’t know anything.”  You can say I’m trying to follow Sydney’s prescription to sit back, relax, and focus on thinking calm thoughts so we end up with a calm baby (yeah, yeah, I know we’re dreaming on that front, but it’s worth a shot).  You could say I’m not focused on baby because I’ve got two to worry about (baby and dissertation) and I’m already cheating my child out of my attention.  You could say it’s the smugness of a young, healthy mother thinking that, statistically, she’s bound to be on the right track.

But I think (just maybe) it has something to do with the fact that it’s the first time in my life I’m acknowledging the fact that this is waaaaaaay outside my control.  As in, other than trying to stay healthy, happy, and avoiding sharp blows to the stomach, there’s not much I can do, for better or for worse.  I’ve thought a lot about this lack of control and the effect it has on my approach to the world.  For now, it’s making me content to worry about simply getting up in the morning, eating breakfast, getting dressed, and attempting to be productive with my day.  As we move along in the weeks (13 weeks and counting) I’m finding myself thinking of the baby more and more, but they’re pleasant, non-obsessive thoughts, and I’m amusing myself with them and leaving it at amusement.

Erin

So this next week or two is looking to be busy.  Good thing my energy is back to at least 75% normal capacity!  This weekend:

1) is the twice-annual library booksale, meaning that Sydney and I hope to be at the sale to stand in line by 6ish on Saturday morning so that we can endure a quick crush of people and dizzying bookshelves to claim what we hope is a lion’s share of the interesting stuff at the sale.

2) Sydney will be attending a conference at school that will give him something to keep himself busy just after the booksale morning (and challenge his ability to sit through long lectures after a sleep shortage . . . )

3) Sydney and I are setting up for church, so that will mean an early morning on Sunday as well as Saturday.  Oh yes, and I’ll be leading the worship on Sunday, so I’ll need to figure out how to have a voice (and a soprano one at that) after two unbearably early mornings . . . after fighting a cold all week.

4) We may be hosting Sydney’s parents if they’re able to drive down for a brief visit and a look at Ithaca.  Given that they’ve got a farm to run, we don’t know whether we’ll see them, but we’ll hope for it!

And by the following weekend:

1) I’ll have submitted a paper (that I need to write between now and then) for a department workshop.  Though excited about the project (and really revved up about all of the reading I’ve been doing for it), I’m wondering how much of a dissertation chapter I’ll be able to produce in that time to make sure it’s a useful experience for me.

2) we’ll pick up Nelson from the airport so that he can spend much of the rest of October with us.  I think Sydney’s already planning on hauling him off for some manly camping in the Adirondacks (which I’m sure he needs after doing pregnancy-camping with me!).

Oh yes, and Sydney and I have both been needing something like 12 hours of sleep each day for the past three months, so we have very short days in which to take care of all of these things.  Oh well!

Erin

In the past two weeks I’ve stumbled across two incredible examples of something I haven’t myself before been able to put into words: good teaching is that which moves the students to accept responsibility for their learning and assures them of their ability to bear it.

Last week I taught a class for a friend who was ill and the reading for the day was Aung San Suu Kyi’s “Freedom from Fear.”  Kyi is a pro-democracy activist in Burma, where she advocates nonviolent resistance and lives it by remaining under house arrest rather than flee to another country where she might be free.  Although I hate summarizing texts, I will do my best to convey some of the main threads of her argument, which begins, “It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subject to it.”  Throughout the essay Kyi speaks to the Western readers who may too easily dismiss the situation in Burma as “the Burmese problem”; Kyi reminds them that the problem the Burmese people face is a human problem that may show up in many countries, and at many times.  She also speaks to the current Burmese government, identifying their power as that which is motivated by fear and nothing else–certainly nothing that could justify their actions.  But most of all she speaks to the Burmese people, arguing that their oppression comes from mean causes (humans’ problems with fear), and that they themselves can overcome the problem by addressing the fear in their own lives.  She offers them not pity but empowerment: by disciplining their own actions so that they can overcome their own fear, they will have won the larger fight and will be in a better position to win the current one in Burma.

Although I know little about the situation in Burma and Kyi’s role in it, I can certainly respect her argument.  By reframing the problem as one of fear she unites all three readers and reminds them of their common humanity: Westerners, junta, and Burmese subjects.  But in doing so she also reminds them of their common responsibilities, responsibilities that have little to do with their current position in the world.  One has a responsibility to gain control over one’s fears, to build up a discipline in life that enables one to act in accordance with one’s principles, whether one has political power or no.  I was moved by her ability to chastise the weakest of her readership even as she offers them good news: they, too, have something to bring to the table, to work to uphold even in those difficult times.  And that something will allow them to claim a dignity that they might have forgotten was theirs.

The second teaching example of the week I found in Mark 4, Jesus’ parable of the sower.  In the parable Jesus describes a sower who sows his seed on the path, on rocky terrain, on weedy soil, and on good soil.  Only the last, as we might expect, yields a harvest.  As a kid, I was really bothered by this parable: if God wants us to hear him, why would he make any of us like the weedy soil or the thin soil?  What is “wrong” with us that we would be anything but good soil to begin with?  But as I’m reading it today, I see that the quality of the soil is not something one cannot help, but rather the state of mind that one brings to the situation when one encounter his gifts.  This passage is both comforting and chastising: God will sow and sow everywhere, so be assured of his luxury in this regard, but know that it is your responsibility and your role to work on the way in which you receive those gifts.  The reassurance of his unceasing effort is paired with the bit that puts the onus on us.  I like that, I really do.  There is a great onrush of dignity and worth that comes with the knowledge that one is thought capable, in some sense, of improving one’s receptivity.  We’re not just stuck the way we are.

As I think about these two teachers, I am also recalling that my own students react this way.  I want to be a tough teacher, at least in some respects, because I know that the best teachers I’ve seen are those who both give much and expect much.  Now, at least, I understand why that is the case.  People need the conferral of responsibility just as much as they need the encouragement their teachers can provide.

Erin

Before I go getting myself in trouble, I was hoping to consult about pronouns.  Sydney and I aren’t going to find out the sex of the child before the birth, so it’s difficult edging around gendered pronouns when we talk about our babe.  In our work, I’ve opted for male pronouns when I write and Sydney follows the standard in his field, which is to use only female pronouns.  I figure that between the two of us we have it covered 🙂  But I don’t want to mislead anyone who might overhear me say “When he arrives . . .”  I am not willing to say “they” when I am only expecting one (as far as I know), I don’t want to call our child “it” like the little alien it currently looks like, and I also put my foot down when it comes to using some sort of pet name instead (“When our little love-bump arrives . . .”).  Do I need to find an alternative to “he,” and if so, any suggestions?

Erin

I have, like most teachers and grad students, griped about students “swarming” campus, overflowing walkways, taking up the library computers, and causing noise and disturbance wherever they go.

However:

This morning I am sitting in a comfortable chair on the first floor of the library, a place that is usually too noisy for me to stand.  It’s before 9:00 on a Friday morning and things are quiet, crisp, and rain-soaked clean.  Through the wall of windows I am looking out on the full length of the arts quad, where the trickle of morning students on the criss-crossing paths has become a steady stream.  Things are peaceful, positively serene, and very, very deep green.  It’s a beautiful sight.

Erin

Given that I’m surrounded by college students aged 18-22, I need to make a t-shirt for my obviously-pregnant  months that says “This is a much better reason to throw up than anything you did last weekend.”

Erin

After two months of no cooking in our house, we finally got back to it in the past few days.  One of us mentioned a recipe for an apple-onion-cheese pizza, and then we got to it before the idea had time to fade (or before I thought of it enough to turn my stomach).  It was delicious!  Last night we had a couple over for dinner, so we knew we had to cook.  But in addition to our tried-and-true potato-leek casserole, I made a spice bread with raisins and carrots and we made a roasted-butternut-squash soup.  Because really, it’s not about making enough food to feed four people.  It’s about making enough to leave the hosts with delicious leftovers they can take for lunches all the next week!

I’m relieved that I still know how to cook and that I still enjoy it.  I’ve been pretty unhappy with not having the energy to do anything I normally do (other than sleep).  But last week I had some academic work go through, this week I got in some cooking, and next week I’m hoping for more exercise and possibly a hike.  I can have it all in turn, apparently, if not all at once.

Erin