I'd Love to Help

 This semester (and forevermore), I want to spend some time thinking about status in the classroom. Both 'status' and 'classroom' are flexible terms in my consideration, and it's likely that the way that these terms are interpreted will vary from week to week, but the core of what I'm considering will stay the same. How do we interpret hierarchies in our environment, and how does that relate to our capacity to teach and learn effectively?

This week, I'd like to consider training within the corporate environment. As a part-time-trainer (part-time-administrator, part-time help desk gal, etc. etc.), I have direct exposure to folks across the company. In general, I try to take a status-neutral approach to assisting people. In training, I work to speak clearly, leave space for questions, and err on the side of providing excess access to resources. In administration, I work to act diplomatically, increase accessibility, and err on the side of providing excess access to resources. In ticketing, I work to be courteous and prompt, and to err on the side of providing excess access to resources. Do you sense a theme?

Status in the corporate world is a question of how you appear, who you know, and the previous exposure that an individual has had to your department. This is similar to the classroom environment in many ways, but it differs in a key way: your teachers are not always going to be of a "higher" status than you, at least not in terms of pay or organizational hierarchy. However, a degree of "high" status can be achieved in a variety of ways. For example, if you are a SME (Subject Matter Expert) in a topic, then you are given more cultural capital, at least in that arena. Because specialties are both defined and expected, this type of fluidity in status arrangements happens all the time. However, there is a degree of status or respect that is often assigned via age, race, gender, and degree of exposure. Do you know someone? Do you know who they work for? Do you like that department? Do you think that they should have control over the work that you do? All of these conversations go into the instant mental calculation of how we suss up one another. Further, it's how I, as an "Analyst IV," a 23-year-old woman, who has been stopped multiple times in the bathroom by other women who incredulously inform me that "you look like you're 14," am one of the primary administrators and trainers for our company's core set of collaboration tools. Would you like to learn how to use Zoom? I'd love to help.

I think a lot about how to minimize the intentional status differences in traditional classrooms, but being faced with the array and flexibility of status in the corporate environment has gotten me thinking in a different way. How status is articulated is not only a feature of the hierarchies we know and love (hate? feel meh about?), but also something that is constantly evolving, and is based on many aspects of our cultural capital. As much as there is dysfunction and uncertainty in my non-academic teaching environment, there is a certain degree of ease that I have knowing that this marker of status is up for debate. I know that this ease comes in part because I am (relatively) comfortable in my environment, and that is a privilege that is informed by other privileges like my whiteness and my degree of social comfortability, and that I try not to take that for granted.

In all: I can certainly I can muck it up with a group of trainees, but I also have the opportunity to redevelop a relationship with workers at a site 2,000 miles away who have felt alienated by the department in the past, and I get to do that while actively playing with my role. Instead of posturing myself as the leader, even in a teaching space, I try to represent myself as a capable individual, but one who is actively deferential and engaged with the specific needs of the group that I'm working with. I also try to show lightness and humor and vulnerability. Vulnerability is particularly accessible in the era of COVID, but that's a double edged sword. Will someone be charmed by your apologetic warning that you may hear a dog barking? Or will they be frustrated that I am granted the opportunity to work from home, while they are not? It's a gamble, and not one that always works out in my favor. Knowing that, I know my crutch is there if I need it: "can I show you where to find some of our additional resources?"

The Process Continues

 

The Process Continues: My Journey in #TrustingTheProcess

 

              Week 9?  I cannot believe we are already at Week 9 of Week 15. Halfway through my first semester of graduate school and teaching. After my last blog post, I took some time to reflect on what I learned about #TrustingTheProcess and how to continue to trust the process, even when it is difficult to do so.

 

              While I cannot insert an image here like my incredible colleagues, I have decided to use my creativity in a different way by posting a song about trusting myself and never giving up and relating it back to the readings for Pedagogy and Communication. I love music and wanted to incorporate my love of it and writing into my blog. While the songs I pick do not always talk about trust, they are inspirational in their own right. I hope to give you insight by relating them back to the readings and how I #TrustTheProcess.

 

On her 2015 anthem “Fight Song,” Rachel Platten sings about the ways in which her spirit was not broken and the courage to keep going, even when circumstances could have easily prevented her from finishing out her endeavor. In the chorus, Platten sings, “This is my fight song, take back my life song, prove I’m allright song, my power’s turned on, starting right now I’ll be strong, I’ll play my fight song, and I don’t really care if no one else believes, ‘cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me” (Platten, 2015, Chorus 2, Lyrics.com). I find this song very relatable to #TrustingTheProcess in the aspect that like Rachel Platten, I sometimes lose faith in my ability to be a graduate student and TA, but I always find my way. For example, when Platten sings about how she has a lot of fight left in her (Platten, 2015), I also feel that I have to just keep #TrustingTheProcess, no matter how difficult it can get.

 

I struggled to write my Feminist Criticism proposal because as you all already know, my abilities to make rhetorical arguments are not as strong as they could be. However, I had a great conversation with my faculty mentor that immediately put #TrustingTheProcess into perspective for me. I was so worried about the ultimate evaluation and grade I would receive for Feminist Criticism that I think I forgot that the learning is the most important thing in the process. Of course, I want to do well, and I am striving to make a good grade in all of my graduate courses, but #TrustingTheProcess of learning is the most important component to learning. My mentor told me to put the grade aside and that as long as I learn something important to take with me into the future, everything else, including the grade I receive in Feminist Criticism, will work itself out. Even if I learn how to be a critical scholar and trust myself through the process and even if I never look at feminist theory again after this, as long as I learned something valuable out of my experience, that is what matters most. My faculty mentor reminded me to trust myself through that conversation, and I am so thankful. So, while #TrustingTheProcess as a graduate student, especially in Feminist Criticism, has been challenging, it is also a work in progress, something that I continue to work on every day. In the end, I know I will do well in the course because I care. Sometimes I ask myself if participating and caring is enough, but then I remember that I am trying my best. I need to trust myself and give myself a bit more compassion as I try to learn. Over the last two weeks, I have become a bit better at #TrustingTheProcess, although sometimes it still continues to trip me up. Like Platten sings though, I will continue to fight through the bouts of doubt I feel to obtain my master’s degree and also to continue to be the most effective TA for my wonderful students, who give me hope for the next generation.

 

              In his book “The Courage to Teach,” Parker Palmer (1998/2007) states, Integrity requires that I discern what is integral to my selfhood, what fits and what does not—and that I choose life-giving ways of relating to the forces that converge within me: Do I welcome them or fear them, embrace them or reject them, move with them or against them? By choosing integrity, I become more whole, but wholeness does not mean perfection. It means becoming more real by acknowledging the whole of who I am.” (Palmer, 1998/2007, p. 14). I relate to this quote for a number of reasons. First, in order to become a holistic learner, I believe one must be honest with him, herself, or themselves. Palmer states that one does not need to strive for perfection to become a holistic learner and that being a holistic learner often means figuring out how to accept yourself as you are in the context of teaching and learning. For me, a brand-new TA in graduate school, I will make mistakes. But my integrity can never be unmatched, as Palmer would argue. Therefore, when I mess up as a TA, which has not really happened yet, I will find a way to bring my entire being into the situation to make it right again. Honestly, I would consider myself a holistic learner. I learn best when professors take my triumphs, mind, body, and soul into effect. Palmer discusses holistic learning in the aspect that if his heart is not in teaching, then good teaching simply cannot occur. Good teaching requires heart and identity. Therefore, I always bring my heart and identity into my teaching. I believe my students can tell a difference because I have received emails thanking me for the support I offer students. My pedagogy involves holistic learning and also room for trial and error.

 

              As a Teaching Assistant, I attempt to bring my entire heart into teaching my students in COMM 1010. In a virtual environment, it is difficult to bring my whole heart into teaching because I do not get to interact with my students and know them as I would if I was teaching in person. However, I do the best I can, and again, it’s just about me #TrustingTheProcess. If I stop now, nothing new will be accomplished. Finally, I am slowly learning that it is okay to have days where teaching and learning are tough. I’ve learned that not every day will be an easy teaching or learning day, but if we all continue to #TrustTheProcess and have faith that everything will work out, whether it is in classes that are challenging us, holistic learning, bringing your identity into the classroom, or teaching, we are all going to get through this sometimes bumpy but otherwise fabulous semester together!

Here’s to continuing in #TrustingTheProcess, never giving up, and continuing to learn.

Best,

Kendal

 

References

 

Bassett, D., & Platten, R. A. (2015). Fight song. On Wildfire, New York, Columbia, February 15, 2015.

Link to Lyrics.com Rachel Platten Song: https://www.lyrics.com/track/31853065/Rachel+Platten/Fight+Song

Palmer, P. J. (1998/2007). The courage to teach: Exploring the inner landscape of a teacher’s life. San Francisco: Wiley & Sons

#ImaginationWork: Engaging “What If?” as a World-Making Practice in the Online Classroom

As the last months of 2019 slipped into the dawn of 2020, the novel coronavirus radically remade human relations across the globe, from our homes to institutions of higher education. TAs and tenured faculty alike were forced to pivot under direction to transfer courses, teaching, and learning online almost overnight – or, at UNT, over an extended spring “break” – operating with the assumption that the pandemic would pass by summer allowing us to share physical spaces of learning together by the fall.

Yet, here we are, the last months of 2020 slipping into the dawn of 2021. Many of our classrooms are on still Zoom, our staff meetings are on Microsoft Teams, and we socialize via FaceTime, Instagram, and other digitally mediated platforms of communication. Effectively, our homes have become spaces of higher education. It feels impossible to imagine what the future might hold for academia at large, no less our positions within it as leaders and learners. How are we to proceed?

From my standpoint as TA and a graduate student engaged in a semester of 100% online teaching and learning, that is a difficult question to even begin to address. With little certainty to frame the future, there is much left to the imagination right now – a messy myriad of what ifs. 

What if mass-produced virtual learning environments are the future of higher education? What if our students do not have access to stable internet connections or necessary technological equipment to succeed? What if I cannot successfully adapt/adopt a pedagogical practice that upholds my commitments to what Paulo Freire (2000) terms “co-intentional education” (p. 69) between students and teachers...online? What if my favorite parts of teaching and learning – the cultivation of visceral knowledge via shared time and space, the relationships fostered in physical classrooms and hallways, the smell of dusty textbooks and crisp papers, the sound of loafers clicking down halls and the feel of bustling bodies blocking campus sidewalks – are facets of the past? What if, what if, what if...?

#ImaginationWork

SpongeBob SquarePants creates a rainbow over his head
and the word "imagination" hovers above it

I contend that we must embrace what Deanna Dannels (2015) terms “imagination work” (p. 217) to traverse the virtual Rubicon of online education. Imagination work is a world-making practice driven by “imagining new possibilities and narratives” (Dannels, 2015, p. 217) in service of creating better ways of being in a world that is ever-changing. It is our imperative, as critically-engaged students, instructors, and citizens to engage imagination work as an intervention to transform the educational challenges provoked by the pandemic into opportunities to co-construct new narratives of virtual teaching/learning.

“[Imagination is] an embodied intellectual faculty that, with careful attention and specific strategies, can effect personal and social transformation.” - Gloria Anzaldúa

Foregrounding imagination as a world-making practice is not new to the context of the classroom. Chicana feminist and scholar Gloria Anzaldúa (2015), for example, theorizes imagination as “an embodied intellectual faculty that, with careful attention and specific strategies, can effect personal and social transformation” (p. x). Freire (2000), too, advocates for a co-intentional educational practice whereby “teachers and students (leadership and people), co-intent on reality, are both Subjects, not only in the task of unveiling that reality, and thereby coming to know it critically, but in the task of re-creating that knowledge” (p. 69). As these scholars suggest, imagination is not only useful, but crucial, to achieve social and educational transformation. And, amid the novel challenges of teaching/learning online, it is increasingly more critical.

Perhaps the first step to engaging imagination is to define it. I appreciate the citation Dannels (2015) provides, quoting Eric Liu and Scott Noppe-Brandon’s definition of imagination as “the capacity to conceive of what is not” (p. 217). Further, according to the scholars, the very two words that all too often tickle my unease are the two words necessary to unlock imaginative ways of interpreting and navigating the unknown...what if.

Welcoming the “What Ifs”

According to Dannels (2015), living out the words what if “involves practicing imagination actively [and] finding ways of being in the world inspiring imagination” (p. 217). With this is mind, what if, instead of dwelling on the anxiety of the uncertain future or nostalgia for the past, we practiced embracing the messy present without trying to untangle the what ifs, but rather, befriending them?

What if we actively and radically (re)imagined our online classrooms as co-creational spaces, rich with potential, rather less-than-ideal locations of educational interaction? What if we engaged pedagogical practices that inspired imagination in our online classrooms and beyond? What if we reflected on what we have learned so far and created new narratives with “careful attention and specific strategies” (Anzaldúa, 2015, x) to improve education beyond the pandemic? What if, by engaging with our students through collective imagination, we began to forge new and better ways of being in the world?

  

I do not have the answers today (and most likely will not by blog post five) but have posed a few questions (thanks, Freire) that I plan to reflect on throughout the semester. Actively re-imagining the coronavirus classroom online requires we think toward the future while taking concrete steps to create it today. #ImaginationWork will involve practice, certainly. What if, however, actively practicing imagination is the portal to radically connecting, leading, learning, and world-making together to create a better future?

References:

Anzaldúa, G. (2015). Light in the dark/luz en lo oscuro: Rewriting identity, spirituality, reality. Cambridge University Press.
Dannels, D. P. (2015). 8 essential questions teachers ask: A guidebook for communicating with students. New York: Oxford
    University Press.
Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed: 30th Anniversary Edition. New York: Continuum.

 

Academicize for Whom?

    Fish calls upon teachers to do their job which is limited to introducing their students to a new literature base and to develop the skills that are related to their discipline--nothing more, nothing less. Teachers should only conduct class in pursuit of (what Fish believes to be) the only virtue within the academy: the pursuit of Truth. In pursuit of Truth, professors can entertain any subject as long as it is academic in nature. "To academicize a topic is to detach it from the context of its real world urgency, where there is a vote to be taken or an agenda to be embraced, and insert it into a context of academic urgency, where there is an account to be offered or an analysis to be performed" (p. 27). This pedagogy begins from the perspective that the academy should be a neutral space from partisanship and that academics should save the world on their time but only within the bounds of their external qualifications.

    The purpose of this blog post is to refute Fish's pedagogy and to identify its philosophy as a technology of Settler Colonialism. I attempt this through an analysis of my own experience navigating the academy as a student and teacher to showcase how it is not a neutral site. The insular tendencies and the calling for the apoliticization of the academy therefore function as modes of colonial knowledge production. 

    To begin, I think that the creation of a class and the maintenance of the academy is political and its denial perpetuates settler colonialism. For instance, we've learned about the process of creating a class from Civikly and the ways that the teacher curates and plans for the instruction of their curriculum. The process of diving into the literature, selecting what histories are worth being told and analyzed, and the method of instruction, are all political acts. The denial of these actions as political is steeped in privilege and enables the erasure of indigenous knowledge that is often deemed irrational by Western epistemologies. I can't really explain how powerful it was for me to read decolonial literature from Chamoru scholars because it was the first time that I felt like I was represented in the academy. Fish explains in the introduction that he doesn't think that students are fit to judge the quality of the curriculum or lesson due to their inexperience and lack of expertise, but I argue that this is colonial because indigenous peoples are often excluded from the academy and structurally told that their knowledge is not legitimate. Fish, on page 168, explains that the duties of teaching extend outside of the classroom into areas like office hours but office hours tend to be one of the best sites for students to gain mentors and allies. The idea that office hours should only be used for intellectual pursuits while prohibiting the student to be a person as well as a scholar would lead to the academy only being accessible to those that are the most privileged.  Fish assumes that students and people in general can check their identity at the door which is akin to the way that racial minorities are told to leave their race at the door in order to assimilate into the professionalism of whiteness. 

    Beyond the denial of teaching as a political act, Fish perpetuates settler colonialism by calling for administrators and the university to remain neutral regardless of the political battles that take place within society. Fish applauds universities, such as the University of Wyoming, when, in response to calls by their students to condemn the Iraq war, the university released a statement saying that it does not have a foreign policy. I don't think we can understate the power that, for better or worse, the university has to transform society. Agents of the state are recruited from the academy to conduct foreign and domestic policy, graduates assimilate into capitalism by innovating technology for the the US and its military, and the vast majority of people, in one way or another, structurally benefit from structural oppression. The denial of the political potency of the university given these observations, in addition to the university's location on stolen land, mean that the university is part and parcel to settler colonialism. Moreover, I argue that the mobility and social prominence in American society is predicated off of mass exploitation and settler colonialism. That being stated, the university can be a site of liberation. One of the most common examples of the university influencing politics would be the student protests against the Vietnam War. But that's not as important as this central tenant: silence in the face of adversity is morally abhorrent when one has the ability to speak out. Universities, like privileged individuals, benefit from structures of oppression and have the ability to speak out against injustice. The rejection of this reality and the university's obligations, is complicit in and condones oppression. 

    If the academy hopes to be a site of liberation we must reject this pedagogy. To those who would rush to Fish's defense and espouse the value of academicizing, I would ask one question: academicize for whom? #DecolonizeEducation 

Time management, boundaries, & Freire versus Fish

Here we are... Week 8.

Eight weeks into the semester... Halfway through Fall of 2020... Here I am, still feeling as though I haven’t found my footing.

(Image description: A bedroom is shown as a rectangular prism. Depicted in back and gray are a bed, a rug, a plant, a door, and an individual sitting in a chair. Depicted in blue is water that fills up the bottom of the room and covers the bed, the rug, half of the plant, half of door, and most of the individual sitting in the chair.)

Time management is not my strongest skill (to put it gently), but I know that time management is paramount to getting things done while NOT losing a handle on everything else. As an undergrad and as a first-semester grad student, I planned, I scheduled, I color-coordinated, I over-planned, I broke large projects into smaller chunks, I set measurable goals, I gave myself personal deadlines...

This semester? I’ve struggled. I’ve managed to keep my head above water on most days, only ever being able to work a day or two ahead. I’ve hardly felt effective, productive, or generally satisfied with the work I produce (for my grad classes or my TA classes). Needless to say, it’s exhausting to feel disappointed in your work. It’s frustrating to continuously question your capabilities. It’s discouraging when you vow to do better, try harder, work smarter, figure SOMETHING out, only to find yourself gasping for air in a panic as the water level reaches your chin yet again.

That is not to say that I haven’t had good days. I have. That isn’t to say that I haven’t taken time away from my desk. Of course I have! You have to take time to attend to yourself as a person. Typically, though, I only take time to attend to myself when I’m at my absolute limit. 

I haven’t struck a balance between school/work responsibilities and the personal responsibilities of attending to mental health, reaching out to family or friends, cooking, cleaning, exercising (what’s that?), and breathing. 

Each week I make a resolve to make a plan and stick with it. Each week, a wrench of one form or another is thrown into the process and I take the easy way out: I let myself become frustrated with the process, frustrated with the situation, frustrated with "how I am." 

It's so easy (for me) to be a defeatist, to resolve oneself to being insufficient, or to scoff at the often-toxic positivity that is thrown around with the best of intentions.

I recognize that I, Rebecca, have always grappled with boundaries: I say yes when I want to say no, I sacrifice my own needs to stress over other's, and I brush off the resulting expenditure of my limited mental/emotional energy.

Perhaps this is why I found myself somehow agreeing with a particular idea in Stanley Fish's Save The World On Your Own Time. For the uninitiated, Fish's argument is that you should only do your job, don't do anyone else's job, and don't let others do your job. Fish states that, “both the coherence and value of a task depend on its being distinctive,” (p. 168) and thus, the value of being a teacher is dependent on a distinct delineation of a teacher's obligations or responsibilities. By clearly determining what tasks for which you are responsible, you can easily determine the tasks for which you are not responsible and avoid using your time on tasks that are not within your role as teacher.

Of course, the list of Fish's EXTREMELY problematic and HIGHLY unrealistic views of pedagogy and education is somehow longer than my weekly to-do list. I do not have the time nor space in this blog post to discuss his opposition to education that aims to create engaged advocates, participants in democracy, or empathetic, critical thinkers. His views are in direct opposition with those of critical studies figures and his ideological commitments are in direct opposition with my own. Fish's educational philosophy starkly contrasts the educational philosophy of Paulo Freire, whose Pedagogy of the Oppressed has ranked #1 on my list of pedagogical readings so far. 

While I strongly disagree with Fish's delineation of the obligations or responsibilities of a college teacher as well as the goals of education, I found myself tempted to buy into the practice of drawing hard lines and creating easy dichotomies. Perhaps, I thought, if I could just make a clear list of what tasks I must attend to as a teacher and what tasks I mustn't touch, then I could more easily manage my time and energy.

Of course, this is easier said than done. Part of Fish's argument is that the line is hard to draw unless you make the drawing of the line easy (read: embrace the role of oppressor / pre-ordained knowledge transmitter and follow the banking model of education). 

It's easy to say, "As a teacher, I must be mindful of my hierarchal position in the classroom and attempt to enable students to combat their oppression in respectful, effective ways." This is much more difficult in practice. How can I feel as though I'm not sacrificing my ideological commitments when I must instruct students that there are objective, concrete, correct ways to use commas and ONLY those uses of commas make for True Good Writing™? I certainly can't tell a group of 3010 students (whose course objective is to learn how to write in the appropriate, scholarly, APA style) my thoughts on the ways in which the English language serves to reinforce and perpetuate ideas of colonization, patriarchy, racism, sexism, ablism, and straight-up oppression. 

I find myself doing mental gymnastics to justify: Okay, so if the students can ever investigate the oppression of the English language and 'proper' sentence structure, they must start with an idea of what the 'proper' sentence structure is and why we are all urged to follow it. The students can effectively deconstruct the form once they know the form and its limitations... But... But I can't articulate all of this to them. We have such limited time! They need to know the requirements for the reference page. I still have to grade their papers from last week! I have to deduct points from their grade for uses of anthropomorphic language... Can I somehow explain that this rule only exists for the purpose of this class? After a semester of hammering anthropomorphic language out of their writing, will they later understand that objects and things can perform verbs because the symbolic has material effect? No, no, not now, not now... These issues are important but that is not my current job...right? My current job is to assist in the teaching of "how to follow writing rules and APA standards in order to synthesis disparate ideas and familiarize oneself with peer-reviewed journals centered around a communicative concept or theory." Someone else will do the important critical work... right?

Then, the clock shows a later hour and I have not made any progress toward grading their papers, creating the powerpoint for tomorrow's recitation meeting, or reading for my grad classes. Considerations of Freire versus Fish, my obligations versus my prohibitions, and co-intentional education versus banking-model education are IMPORTANT considerations. However, they do not always allow me to manage my time in the most effective way possible.

I now conclude this rambling blog post as I concluded my weekly Pedagogy discussion questions on Stanley Fish:

I feel as though I am left with two options: I could compartmentalize, delineate, and simplify the role or I could reject easy dichotomies, de-categorize meaning, maintain my own values in all areas of my life, and grapple. Grappling with content, with pedagogy, with boundaries and commitments... grappling with myself and with others in the pursuit of co-constructed knowledge seems, to me, a far better use of my time.

 

At the end of another week, I sit down with the intention of filling out my planner, setting personal deadlines, and creating attainable goals. I try to reconcile my limited abilities within the resources I currently have and the deeply personal, political, critical reasons that have lead me to even consider serving as a TA. Again, I list my action items:

1. This weekend: Complete all reading/preparation for my grad classes
2. Sunday: Complete grading as necessary in order to stay up-to-date with grades
3. This week: Maintain boundaries with the amount of time I will dedicate to each TA class
4. This week: Maintain boundaries of when I will respond to student emails
5. This week: Build personal time AND buffer time into my schedule to ensure I don't burn out or break down
6. This semester: Continue to grapple. Continue to breathe.

References:
Freire, P. (1970). Pedagogy of the oppressed. Bloomsbury

Fish, S. (2008). Save the world on your own time. Oxford University Press

@elif-demir (n.d.) Animation drowning gif [.gif image]. Retrieved from https://giphy.com/gifs/room-aquarium-drowning-tHVI8Za6XdG69KnAGZ

Break the bank: Not all change makes cents

Let us all reach our jackpot! To work towards our journey of achieving our Master’s degree. All the work coincides with Friere's problem-posing model of education. Friere deems that the banking model of education is an "act of depositing, in which the students are the depositories, and the teacher is the depositor" (Freire, 72). An act that we must all learn to change. The question then arises: How do we break out of the conventional mode of education in which teachers give information that students take in, memorize, and regurgitate? We learn how to break the bank, of course.

Break the bank. Entering UNT as a graduate student had contrast with my experience as an undergrad at UNT. Same school. Different learning atmosphere. Classes shifted from more lecture formats to discussion-based. As an introvert, the experiences challenged my comfort in participating in discussions. I felt uncertain speaking during my classes even when I knew the information because I feared being wrong. I also became hesitant to ask about my levels of confusion because I did not want to appear incompetent or unprepared for not understanding. I questioned my previous abilities to succeed, still attempting to put my best foot forward to participate. My mentor and professors reminded me that all my feelings were valid, and my experiences aligned as expected with all the change. 

The shift from undergrad to grad school felt beyond me. I was uncomfortable (I remain uncomfortable), yet uncomfortability is growth, as they say! Throw Zoom on top of it, and wow! We have even more change. 

One realization in grad school: Not all change makes sense (cents). Change can also make bills. And bills can make our jackpot.

Jackpot. To hit the jackpot of securing our education. As a first-semester TA in the online teaching experience, I find myself reassuring my students that "We are all in this together," navigating through the realms of online education. To promote acts of co-intentional learning, where both my students and I actively participate in the creation of knowledge and finding our way through. I could see the uncertainties and emotions my students expressed to me about online learning, and I found myself telling them everything I wanted to hear and heard from my professors. The endless loop of learning how to listen to the advice I received and gave to others. What a concept.

The beauty lies in the journey to the end goal. And right now, we are all on the #journeyofuncertainty. And guess what? That is ok. On the path to everything I have ever wanted, and right now, many tasks all feel at stake. The acts all remind me of the song in High School Musical 2 called "Bet On It." 

The main male lead Troy Bolton, played by one of my favorite actors, Zac Efron, sings through a mental breakdown about counting on yourself and learning how to reach everything you ever want even through the many obstacles that can get in the way. One of the lines in the chorus that really relates includes: "I'm not gonna stop, that's who I am. I'll give it all I got, that is my plan. When I find what I lost. You know you can. Bet on it, bet on it. Bet on it, bet on it (Bet on me)."

One tip to myself: It is ok, to not be ok.

Baby steps on the road to flourish amidst all the change. To come out with more than we could ever expect. To break the bank. Any tips, my friends? #journeyofuncertainty

Citation:

DisneyMusicVEVO. (2019, September 12). Troy - Bet On It (From “High School Musical 2”) [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-t4vqd534Y

Blog Post 1: Learning to Fully Trust the Process: Week 7 Fears, Doubts, Worries, and Grace

 

        

You are probably wondering why I waited until Week 7 of 15 to start my journey with you. Well, truthfully, it is because as both a teacher and a student, I have had to truly learn about #TrustingTheProcess. #TrustingTheProcess, while it may seem easy, is not always as easy as it may seem.  Sometimes, it is easier said than done. First, I want to talk about how as a teacher, I navigate trusting the process, especially in a virtual environment.

              I don’t think I ever imagined my first-semester experience to be in the virtual environment. I thought that when the heat came, COVID-19 would somehow die off, but that is not what happened. However, I am still grateful to even be in graduate school, as I know how truly lucky, I am to have been accepted. Although the journey is not always sunshine and roses, it is worth it. It is worth every learning opportunity not only as a teacher but also as a student. In her amazing book “Eight Essential Questions Teachers Ask,” Deanna Dannels discusses common questions teachers ask. As a TA, one of the biggest questions I had was: “How do I Negotiate Relational Boundaries?” Dannels calls this question a “worry stone question”, or a commonly asked question. As a matter of fact, she dedicated an entire chapter of her book to this very question! This question seems even more important in negotiating the virtual environment. As a teacher, I often am finding myself trading emails with students that are professional yet caring. I want to be a flexible TA, one that cares for students in their professional endeavors but also note that these are some really uncertain times they are going through right now. Like all of us, they are also learning how tYou are probably wondering why I waited until Week 7 of 15 to start my journey with you. Well, trut    hfully, it is because as both a teacher and a student, I have had to truly learn about #TrustingTheProcess. #TrustingTheProcess, while it may seem easy, is not always as easy as it may seem.  Sometimes, it is easier said than done. First, I want to talk about how as a teacher, I navigate trusting the process, especially in a virtual environment.

              I don’t think I ever imagined my first-semester experience to be in the virtual environment. I thought that when the heat came, COVID-19 would somehow die off, but that is not what happened. However, I am still grateful to even be in graduate school, as I know how truly lucky, I am to have been accepted. Although the journey is not always sunshine and roses, it is worth it. It is worth every learning opportunity not only as a teacher but also as a student. In her amazing book “Eight Essential Questions Teachers Ask,” Deanna Dannels discusses common questions teachers ask. As a TA, one of the biggest questions I had was: “How do I Negotiate Relational Boundaries?” Dannels calls this question a “worry stone question”, or a commonly asked question. As a matter of fact, she dedicated an entire chapter of her book to this very question! This question seems even more important in negotiating the virtual environment. As a teacher, I often am finding myself trading emails with students that are professional yet caring. I want to be a flexible TA, one that cares for students in their professional endeavors but also note that these are some really uncertain times they are going through right now. Like all of us, they are also learning how to #TrustTheProcess and I understand it is a difficult thing to do. When a student takes COMM 1010 with me, I want them to know I care about them but am still going to hold high expectations for them, just like my current and former professors do, and did, for me. I do try and offer words of wisdom and encouragement and try to offer as much compassion and grace as possible, which is, to be honest, something I am trying to work on extending to myself as a graduate student and also a TA. I want to be sensitive to their experiences while also being professional. Often times when I exchange emails with students about an issue that is personal, I always ask myself after if I’ve said the right thing. When students respond back thanking me for my care, I remember that it is all about how I need to just #TrustTheProcess, even when I am unsure of how to do that. Paulo Freir discusses reflexivity and praxis, and as a student and a teacher, I have had to implement true self-reflection. Case in Point: my journey in Feminist Criticism.

              While I respect rhetoric with my entire heart and think it is an extremely important part of the Communication Studies Discipline, it is probably the most challenging aspect of communication for me on a personal level. However, I am glad I am deciding to #TrustTheProcess and take this course, as I know it will only make me a better communicator and writer in the end. So, imagine my own surprise when I decided to sign up for Feminist Criticism to challenge myself to step way outside of my comfort zone. The first few weeks of the course were not that hard. We read, we discussed the readings, and we built a community, albeit in the virtual environment. I’d say that’s successful. Now, as I imagine what my final project is going to look like, the course is becoming much more of a challenge. The thing is, I knew it was going to be this way and still chose to take it, which I am very glad for. It is good for people to step outside of their comfort zones and do things to implement trust and growth.

              Now, as I navigate conducting research and making a rhetorical argument regarding my final project, I’ve experienced lots of doubts this week about my place in Feminist Criticism. I am an upbeat person, but to say the least about Week 7…it’s been humbling to be in graduate school. As a student, the work I do is hard. It’s not easy for me to just come up with a rhetorical argument. As a matter of fact, the final project is probably one of the most exciting, yet hardest, things I will need to do this semester. Yesterday, I became extremely discouraged when I realized I was way in over my head with the artifact I was choosing to analyze. I was attempting to analyze a speech, but after really examining it through a rhetorical lens, I soon and quickly realized that just because the speech was discussing blind women, that did not mean it had anything to do with feminism. I was pretty close to using something that would not have served me well to use. After some self-reflection about the **major** missteps I took in selecting my artifact, I reached out to my fantastic professor for some guidance. I was worried that it was too late to pick another artifact, but after self-reflection, I thought I should at least reach out.

              Today, I had a meeting with my professor. She informed me that it was not too late to change my artifact and that I just needed to situate myself to make a rhetorical argument. Which, to be honest with you all, I am still figuring out how to do. She also gave me pieces of very valuable feedback that will serve me well beyond Feminist Criticism. I always say my brain does not work in a rhetorical fashion, that I don’t know how to do rhetoric, and that I will not be a rhetorician. However, when I’m having that inner dialogue with myself and naming the world as Freir suggests scholars do, I am not #TrustingTheProcess at all. As a matter of fact, I am pushing back against the process of trust. Dictionary.com defines “trust” as “[a] firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something” (Dictionary.com). What I vow to do from this day forward when engaging in dialogue with myself and others about rhetoric is say, “Maybe I’m not good at this now, but I trust that I will get better.” I will no longer say I don’t do rhetoric. I will #TrustTheProcess, no matter how many bumps there are in the road to getting there. The road is not always a straight shot to an unknown destination. Sometimes on that windy road, there will be obstacles that one encounters. In my case, my biggest obstacle as a teacher is negotiating boundaries of professionalism with my ability to sympathize and care about and with my students. To not only care about them finding their own process to trust, but to care about their learning in COMM 1010 Virtual Addition. To establish self-reflexivity and dialogue with them, and to eventually bring it to praxis. But also, to care about what is happening in my students’ personal lives that may be preventing them from turning in their best work. To care as a teacher and not a therapist but to still demonstrate that I care. Dr. Dannels brings up some amazing techniques for caring about students which I have implemented into my own practice. For example, one of my students asked me to provide him with feedback for his paper, but I was not in a position to do that because the paper was due at 11:59 PM that night.  I do not bring up this story to call this student out for emailing me on a Sunday. I am totally okay with students emailing me on Sundays. Using Dannels’ language regarding feedback, I gently informed the student that I was glad he was committed to his learning, but that I could not provide feedback with such late notice. The student thanked me for my time and we both moved forward. And also, he did great on his paper! Dannels taught me a lot when I read her book, and I felt like I got a glimpse into how to be the most effective teacher from her.

 

            As I rap up this first out of five blog posts, I know that there will be days where #TrustingTheProcess is easy and days where it is challenging. The important thing is, I will not give up until I either master rhetoric to the best of my abilities, learn that self-disclosure over email is appropriate because it allows me to share common ground with students and give them appropriate tips for success in COMM 1010, or trust myself with my research and know that I am only doing the best I can. I hope you enjoyed reading this blog, and I look forward to reading yours!

Sending a Virtual Handshake or Hug,

Kendalo #TrustTheProcess and I understand it is a difficult thing to do. When a student takes COMM 1010 with me, I want them to know I care about them but am still going to hold high expectations for them, just like my current and former professors do, and did, for me. I do try and offer words of wisdom and encouragement and try to offer as much compassion and grace as possible, which is, to be honest, something I am trying to work on extending to myself as a graduate student and also a TA. I want to be sensitive to their experiences while also being professional. Often times when I exchange emails with students about an issue that is personal, I always ask myself after if I’ve said the right thing. When students respond back thanking me for my care, I remember that it is all about how I need to just #TrustTheProcess, even when I am unsure of how to do that. Paulo Freir discusses reflexivity and praxis, and as a student and a teacher, I have had to implement true self-reflection. Case in Point: my journey in Feminist Criticism.

              While I respect rhetoric with my entire heart and think it is an extremely important part of the Communication Studies Discipline, it is probably the most challenging aspect of communication for me on a personal level. However, I am glad I am deciding to #TrustTheProcess and take this course, as I know it will only make me a better communicator and writer in the end. So, imagine my own surprise when I decided to sign up for Feminist Criticism to challenge myself to step way outside of my comfort zone. The first few weeks of the course were not that hard. We read, we discussed the readings, and we built a community, albeit in the virtual environment. I’d say that’s successful. Now, as I imagine what my final project is going to look like, the course is becoming much more of a challenge. The thing is, I knew it was going to be this way and still chose to take it, which I am very glad for. It is good for people to step outside of their comfort zones and do things to implement trust and growth.

              Now, as I navigate conducting research and making a rhetorical argument regarding my final project, I’ve experienced lots of doubts this week about my place in Feminist Criticism. I am an upbeat person, but to say the least about Week 7…it’s been humbling to be in graduate school. As a student, the work I do is hard. It’s not easy for me to just come up with a rhetorical argument. As a matter of fact, the final project is probably one of the most exciting, yet hardest, things I will need to do this semester. Yesterday, I became extremely discouraged when I realized I was way in over my head with the artifact I was choosing to analyze. I was attempting to analyze a speech, but after really examining it through a rhetorical lens, I soon and quickly realized that just because the speech was discussing blind women, that did not mean it had anything to do with feminism. I was pretty close to using something that would not have served me well to use. After some self-reflection about the **major** missteps I took in selecting my artifact, I reached out to my fantastic professor for some guidance. I was worried that it was too late to pick another artifact, but after self-reflection, I thought I should at least reach out.

              Today, I had a meeting with my professor. She informed me that it was not too late to change my artifact and that I just needed to situate myself to make a rhetorical argument. Which, to be honest with you all, I am still figuring out how to do. She also gave me pieces of very valuable feedback that will serve me well beyond Feminist Criticism. I always say my brain does not work in a rhetorical fashion, that I don’t know how to do rhetoric, and that I will not be a rhetorician. However, when I’m having that inner dialogue with myself and naming the world as Freir suggests scholars do, I am not #TrustingTheProcess at all. As a matter of fact, I am pushing back against the process of trust. Dictionary.com defines “trust” as “[a] firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something” (Dictionary.com). What I vow to do from this day forward when engaging in dialogue with myself and others about rhetoric is say, “Maybe I’m not good at this now, but I trust that I will get better.” I will no longer say I don’t do rhetoric. I will #TrustTheProcess, no matter how many bumps there are in the road to getting there. The road is not always a straight shot to an unknown destination. Sometimes on that windy road, there will be obstacles that one encounters. In my case, my biggest obstacle as a teacher is negotiating boundaries of professionalism with my ability to sympathize and care about and with my students. To not only care about them finding their own process to trust, but to care about their learning in COMM 1010 Virtual Addition. To establish self-reflexivity and dialogue with them, and to eventually bring it to praxis. But also, to care about what is happening in my students’ personal lives that may be preventing them from turning in their best work. To care as a teacher and not a therapist but to still demonstrate that I care. Dr. Dannels brings up some amazing techniques for caring about students which I have implemented into my own practice. For example, one of my students asked me to provide him with feedback for his paper, but I was not in a position to do that because the paper was due at 11:59 PM that night.  I do not bring up this story to call this student out for emailing me on a Sunday. I am totally okay with students emailing me on Sundays. Using Dannels’ language regarding feedback, I gently informed the student that I was glad he was committed to his learning, but that I could not provide feedback with such late notice. The student thanked me for my time and we both moved forward. And also, he did great on his paper! Dannels taught me a lot when I read her book, and I felt like I got a glimpse into how to be the most effective teacher from her.

 

            As I rap up this first out of five blog posts, I know that there will be days where #TrustingTheProcess is easy and days where it is challenging. The important thing is, I will not give up until I either master rhetoric to the best of my abilities, learn that self-disclosure over email is appropriate because it allows me to share common ground with students and give them appropriate tips for success in COMM 1010, or trust myself with my research and know that I am only doing the best I can. I hope you enjoyed reading this blog, and I look forward to reading yours!

Sending a Virtual Handshake or Hug,

Kendal