Step One: Check

Step One: Check (oh, heck yes!).

3 years and 3 months ago, I made a decision that has lead up today: I decided on my dissertation topic.

It was a little over five months into my first year at FSU, and there were a lot of things going on in my life. On the same day I turned 27, I presented at a conference in Santa Barbara, figured out my dissertation topic, and my mom had brain surgery. Yes, brain surgery. I debated back and forth with my mom at the time whether I should make the trip to Santa Barbara because it meant I would miss her surgery, but she insisted that I should go. I did and after watching a presentation by a little know rhet/comp scholar (ahem, Yancey) present on the topic of transfer, I was sold. Completely. The topic just made sense to me especially after teaching and working with the students that I had in the past two years. I, as a composition instructor, had something I could give students that they could take with them into their education: a knowledge about writing something that, whether they wanted to admit it or not, would help them in their future. I sat for two hours on a bench (in the cold…whoever said southern California doesn’t get cold…lied) after listening to the talk and sketched out ideas for a research project with transfer. Of course the project morphed and changed along the way, but almost 3 and half years later I took my idea, turned it into a research project, and handed in my dissertation to that same little know scholar. Isn’t it crazy how life turns out sometimes?

Step One is complete in the last part of the journey to complete my PhD, and it feels weird—exciting—but weird. All of my blog posts about writing, or lack of writing, the journey is slowly winding down. Not that there isn’t a lot more to do before it’s “official” but let’s just say it felt official when I handed it off today to my committee members. I couldn’t help but grin a wickedly wide grin.

I.turned.in.my.dissertation. Holy crap.

No clever words today for this blog post. No funny stories. No melodramatic pauses.

No. Today I turned in my dissertation, and it just felt/feels darn good.

An Attitude of Exellence

When did decision-making become so difficult?

Gone are the days when the hardest decision was whether to sit with your best friend or your brother at lunch (just for the record: I might have picked my best friend over my brother for a few years, but in my defense…who makes rationale decisions as a 13 year old?!?).

Gone are the days when you wake up in the morning and have an internal battle: do I wear the vibrant purple eye shadow or the electric blue eye shadow, and more importantly, do I match my outfit to my eye shadow (I was always more of a purple girl and perhaps I did match an outfit or two with my eye shadow...and occasionally still do).

Gone are the days when you need to decide whether to be a swimmer or a dancer (obviously many know the decision I made, though, I tend to try and relive my dancin’ days when I have the chance—whether it be an impromptu dance party with JLO or on the table of a bourbon bar in Louisville ;-).

Although these decisions growing up seemed difficult--really they weren’t. But today I long for those days; I want to let myself drift backwards, only for a moment, and cover myself in those memories when decision-making revolved around friends, sports, and fashion.

Strangely (or un-strangely, I guess, if you are anticipating it), the last year as PhD student has more decisions than you could care to imagine and many of them come in the last six months. I’m currently in decision-making mode. Some of the decisions are obvious: no, Kara, you should not go to the baseball game on Sunday because your dissertation is not finished. Some of the decisions are not that obvious and require lists—lots and lots of lists. As mentioned in a previous post, I am a list-creating queen. I make lists to make lists. But the lists don’t make the decisions for you (nor, for that matter, does your dog though I have tried for three days to get Trini’s opinion on a writing matter. For the moment I’m taking the silence as confirmation of what I’m doing is moving in the right direction). And neither does anyone else as much as you might want them to. No, the decisions are all you.

But—what if I make the wrong decision? Will my dissertation fail? Will I be happy in that city? Will I learn from my writing mistakes? Will I be able to continue my research? Will I…make it?

My mom has always encouraged me that before a decision can be made you need to do three things: (1) you need to make sure you are informed (which includes list-making); (2) you need to pray; and (3) you need to maintain an attitude of excellence. The hardest of the three is maintaining an attitude of excellence because it forces you to believe in your decision-making ability when all you really want to do it doubt it (or crawl under a cozy blanket and ran away from it).

Currently my attitude of excellence is wavering a bit—kinda floating right outside my peripheral vision and giggling a girlish giggle at my state of indecisiveness. What I want (er need) to do is give her a good flick and rein her back in. Because decisions need to be made.

But instead, for this moment, I'm going to wrap the memories of my 13 yr old self around me like a cozy blanket and just sit on it a bit.

The Campus Interview

The Campus Interview: a 15 hour Date

Imagine: you’ve just landed a date with someone you’ve had your eye on for some time now. He’s smart and funny with sexy bedroom eyes, and he doesn’t mind a hard-core woman. He tells you he’ll pick you up at 9… am that is for a nice leisurely breakfast. Fast-forward to 9 pm. The date is still going strong; your real smile faded four hours ago sometime before dinner began. You're fidgeting because the boots you have on have lost their comfort appeal and now are just causing a blister (whoever said flats don't cause blisters...lied). Now he’s offering you slow-roasted coffee and lavender ice cream (who can turn down lavender ice cream?!?), and it takes all of your will not to massage the dull ache in your neck (don’t want to give away that tension has built up!). Finally he smiles and asks if you are ready to go (mentally you break out your best running man), you smile (your first real smile in five hours) and say you've had fabulous day and you can’t imagine where the day has gone.

The campus interview is unlike any interview you have ever done, and it seems very much like a day-long date because of its date-like qualities: questions about yourself, dinner that includes dessert, and coffee (and how do you like your coffee). You also dress in your best (conservative but respectful; trendy but not too over the top), constantly check your breath, re-apply lip gloss (or chapstick since traveling tends to dry out your lips), and don’t ever over-eat in front of the other party. You ask personal, yet appropriate, questions. You listen attentively and smile and smile and smile and smile. Smiling, as we all know from experience, is key in establishing personal relationships because they are very revealing. Pay attention to the smiles. ;-)

Something that is not date-like (or if it is that’s just creepy and don’t tell anyone you do it)—researching your "date" so that you know them/it inside and out. I have gone into the campus interviews knowing what the other faculty members look like, what they teach, what and where their degrees are from, and really anything else I can pull from a quick Google search. Once I mentioned that a person had gotten her hair cut and she looked at me funny and said “how did I know that?” (Oops. Gave myself away.)

And don’t kid yourself: it’s as mentally challenging as it is physically challenging. The hardest part is you have to be “on” for such a long time your “on” can get jilted, wilted, and winded...

Your smile wavers a bit. Your handshake is not as firm as it was ten hours ago. You drink one too many Dt. Cokes so that now your chest muscles quiver from ingesting so much caffeine. You might even forget how to pronounce your last name (totally true—one of my campus interviews I must have got caught up in the moment…). You blank on what side of Ohio you hail from (I apparently have many issues with the difference between east and west directions). You learn you have an accent that gives away that you hail from northeastern Ohio (who knew?!?). And most importantly, you might even begin to doubt your research even makes sense because you’ve said it so many times to so many different people in so many different ways. Transfer/Reflection--what??

The campus interview is as much of a whirlwind romance as the first date can be. They show you their best; you show them yours.

As you are there you have lots to take in—the people, the school, the program/department, the city, the food, the culture. You have to try and decide in that two day experience if the job is offered: can you imagine yourself there—working, teaching, living, and playing.

Sometimes when the morning after arrives and the date...er...faculty member picks you up for your ride to the airport; you stumble into the car with your hair piled on top of your head, glasses on, barely a lick of make-up, and it feels like each of you are deciding: should there be a second date? And honestly you are as much a part of that decision as the person driving you toward home.

Downpours and Rainbows

If you want the rainbow, you’ve got to put with the rain. ---Dolly Parton

The rain was fallin’ for me in March (as can probably be noted in my earlier posts), and it kept coming and going in downpours. It wasn’t a bad month, per say, but it was definitely a month where there was a lot of questioning and wondering: is this dissertation going to keep moving forward? Will I get a job? Can I keep up with my workload? Am I ever going to be able to wear a heel again (ok, so perhaps the last question isn’t as important as the others but still 3 months later I’m dying to put on my highest, sassiest pair and strut like I’ve never strutted before…)? The thing with questioning and wondering it leaves you standing in the downpour, no umbrella, mascara running down your face, feeling insecure and useless, so you gotta do your best to embrace the downpours as they come because whether you admit it or not they are a part of this process.

Recently I was having a conversation and someone said to me, “ok you’ve got 7 minutes to be negative and talk about your dissertation/job search.” I was kinda taken back by this statement. Having not lived the same experiences I have lived in the last 7 months I believe that is an unfair characterization of how I’ve dealt with/am dealing with everything (plus I don’t really view myself as a negative person. Case in point: I’ve won two awards in my lifetime for being motivating—you can’t really be a motivating person and be negative. ;-) The thing is, and if I’m being honest, the last year of your PhD is not easy and saying that it’s not easy doesn’t make it a negative statement—it makes it real. I believe in being real because I want to try and help others for when they reach their last year in the PhD. But here's the truth: I can write as many blog posts as I want about it, and I’m not sure anyone can truly be prepared until they live it, breathe it, and really dig in deep to everything that is a part of year 4. Rain, downpours, sometimes even wicked thunder storms become embedded in this last year.

But where there is rain there can be a rainbow...

So, yes, there were some downpours in the month of March for me but as March slid into April I’ve stumbled onto several rainbows. I’ve had five new interviews and been offered a position from a previous place I’ve interviewed with. I’m hoping that out of the new interviews that I’m able to go and do a campus interview at least one of them because here’s the thing: I’ve been questioning and wondering but up until this point none of the jobs I’ve interviewed for were exactly “right” for me and even though that was a hard lesson to learn it’s enabled me to become a much better interviewer (dude! I’ve got my research done cold! =) and has given me a confidence about my research/dissertation that I didn’t have before (and that has definitely helped feed into my dissertation writing).

See the funny thing about this last year of you PhD (and to use a cliché) you just never know what tomorrow holds. Could be a rejection or three. Could be a job offer. Could be a major break in #4. As my mother has told me since I was old enough to remember (and yes she sings it): the sun will come out tomorrow…and sometimes brings with it a rainbow.

“I don’t date girls under 5’2.”

It’s funny the fragments that stick with you. Moments isolated in time that just keep floating back-and-forth inside your mind.

Some random guy said the above quote after a hike I recently went on. Somewhere between reflecting back on the beautiful hike we’d all just experienced and discussing shoe sizes, this guy throws out that comment. I almost came back with a penis comment—almost. Instead I turned and glared at him (as best as one can glare with large sunglasses) and said, “I bet you really get a lot of girls then, huh.” Really, do people not know how to read their audience?!? He was surrounded by women, and while many of them were above 5’2, not all of them were. Uh, geeish!

The understanding of audience seems so crucial to understanding a lot of life’s experiences, yet, how many people don’t really read their audience. Ironically even those in my own cohort of friends and family don’t always read their own audiences—not a critique, mind you, just an observation. And I’m not suggesting that I’m always do myself, in fact, I'm still learning to respond to this understanding. It's something I stress in my teaching as I try and teach the importance of understanding your audience to both my freshmen and my upper level classes because I believe it’s one of the most important rhetorical concepts they can learn (next to, of course, reflection and genre). Understanding an audience helps teach them that their audience is not merely the teacher and that some day they will be writing to real-life audiences outside of school. I think it’s important for them to start to make those connections early.

Interestingly, I was reminded today of just how important understanding my audience is for my own dissertation. My committee that eventually reads my dissertation makes up my audience and this is so important because there are specific things I am doing/will do to make sure that my audience knows and understands what I am saying. I have read different books and different articles because I want to be sure that I understand case study methodology, for example. Some of the stuff I’ve read I won’t even put in my dissertation but you better believe I’ve read it and will keep in my back pocket just in case!

Reading/understanding audiences are a part of being a competent writer, but also part of being a competent speaker, friend, family member, or basically, all around person.

The random guy probably didn’t mean much with his comment, but as can been seen in #27 of my fun and fabulous facts post, I have a tendency to be sensitive about my height. We all have that one (or two) thing(s) that push our buttons…perhaps if you had grown up hearing midget jokes you would be tiny bit sensitive too (or had the nickname of Willow—from the movie about little people--I'm just sayin').

Moral of the story: whether in a casual conversation, writing for your first-year comp instructor, or writing your dissertation you need to read and understand your audience. I’m guessing the random guy didn’t have 1101/1102 at FSU because perhaps then he might know a little more about audience. ;-)

Pushing Through the Silence

Forgive me, dear readers, for I have not blogged in 19 days.

***A year ago I was sitting pretty: I had recently come back from CCCC, which had been a fabulous trip, and I felt on top of the world. Little did I know that in a year things would look and feel so different.

No one can prepare you for your last year as a Ph.D. student, and honestly if they tried I’m not sure you would “get it.” The last year has been full of ups and downs and sometimes it feels like mostly downs. It’s not just because the job search is such an emotional roller coaster either—there is just so much that goes on in this last year and the job search is only one part of it. There are times I wish I could simply sit in a dark room watching re-runs of Dawson’s Creek, dt Coke by my side, snuggled under my Florida State blanket with Trini on my lap. But where would that get me besides revved up on caffeine and teenage angst (not that that doesn’t sound appealing!). No, I know I must push forward even if the pace I’m pushing is barely a limp (which given the fact that I still--over ten weeks later--have a slightly swollen ankle is not to far off!).

There have been times in the last four months that I question my ability to write—does that happen to everyone or is it just some insecurity of mine…I really don’t know. There have been times when I’ve wished I was a different kind of writer—one that doesn’t jump in head first without looking back. There have been times where I look at my students and think “I’m just like them” wondering where this thing called writing is going to get me. And there have been times when I wonder how I’m going to finish because for me the writing process has been all or nothing (which is not the kind of writer I normally am). I’ve always been some form of a writer: I won my first writing contest when I was ten for a fire safety essay. I graduated high school with honors in writing (not in English—in writing) after I spent the year taking both an AP English class and the traditional English class because I loved writing. Then in college writing just seemed like a natural major for me. Now twenty years after writing my fire safety essay I question my ability to write because my dissertation keeps shaking her ugly/beautiful (either/or…?!?) head at me.

Questions, questions, questions. Fester, fester, fester. Uh, yikes!

Ten weeks. There is a countdown happening and there’s no going back now. No matter how many lists I make, and no matter how many times I revise those lists, I have a definite deadline. Ten weeks is either going to be a lifetime or in need of a lifeline depending on how it plays out. Based on my competitive nature I’m determined not to let her get the best of me, so in ten weeks I’ll be writing about the joys of completing and successfully defending a little thing called a dissertation.

Here's to her planting a vision inside my brain that takes hold and sticks:

We can work it out

Life is very short, and there's no time/For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it's a crime,/So I will ask you once again.

If January was “Whataya want from me” month than February was the “we can work it out” month.

The life of a fourth year PhD student moves in weird, jerky directions and one moment you feel completely in control and the next you feel as if you’ve jumped off the Fort Steuben bridge in the middle of January and the icy water consumes you (a bit melodramatic, eh?). I’ve been working things out this month with both the dissertation and the job search. At the beginning of the month I felt like I was slapping this dissertation in the face and gleefully yelling “I got you babe” but it was as if I spoke too soon. My dissertation spent two weeks in February fading in and out of consciousness—I was a mere passenger as it tried to work itself out. The dissertation, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is a beast and most of the time this beast ain’t pretty. It develops a personality; it forges ahead into territories you don’t want it to go; it plops down and takes a week long vacation when you don’t want it to; it rants in a language unknown to the human mind. I’ve spent most of February going back and forth with her and not making a whole lotta head way. I felt so in control the first week of February and so outta control for the rest of the month. I haven’t regained that sense of control until the last couple days, thus, my dissertation and I have been working things out this month (I’ve already warned her that February is the only month she is allowed for this to happen). Yes, ladies and gentleman, the dissertation becomes a living breathing entity, and you bow to her unquestionable powers.

We can work it/we can work it out.
Try and see it my way.

I’m working things out. I finally broke down and practiced coding. It was scary—no joke—and I’ve been putting it off because I’m unsure if I’m right or wrong with my scheme. Silly, right? But in my head if I didn’t think about it then it wasn’t there. Good thing for me KY wouldn’t let me forgot about it otherwise I’d turn into one of those dissertation lifers. I broke down, though, and even if it’s not going to work at least I know how to start up again. It’s not as scary once you’ve tried it; it was getting to the trying stage that was hard.

Spring break is looming in front of me and as a wise person recently said, “you might find it wise to use some or all of spring break to help you assure that the rest of the term goes well.” Academics might “get” spring break off from teaching but it’s actually an opportunity to work; to get caught up; to get ahead. Some won’t see it that way, I realize, but I see a week’s worth of no commitments and a schedule of nothing but writing, and I’m kinda pumped about that. I have a deadline to meet, and I fully intend to make it. So I’m working it things out with my dissertation—she's finally starting to see things my way.