Culture Clash…Dealing With Controversial Subjects in the Classroom (and Out)

Tags

academic freedom, college, employment, ethics, real world, Teaching

I teach in a wonderful university in the deep South.  In an area also known as “the Bible Belt.” A red state, as it were.  Most of our students are also from states in the southeast.  And before I go on, let me say, I was raised in Georgia–also in the Bible Belt, also traditionally a red state.

But then I moved…and moved and moved, and went to college…and another college and another college…and traveled abroad, and met wonderfully diverse people who broadened my way of thinking.  And I was open to this thinking because I was raised by a born-again hippie woman who fought against her own conservative raising (sometimes) by embracing the different, the unique, and sometimes the downright bizarre.

Mom at a Willie Nelson Concert, bald from chemo--hippie or redneck?

For example, when I was 10, we started studying astrology together.  Not just reading our horoscopes, but big volumes of books on stars, planets, gravitational pulls, natal charts, and so on.  But then when I was 15, she forbade me from getting in a car with a black male friend because she was afraid of what people would think.  What can I say?  She struggled.

And now I struggle with how and when to broach these issues (when they are germane to what I’m teaching) in the classroom.  I teach meeting and event management.  It’s a global field with diverse players and I try to prepare my students for that so they’ll know what they are getting into.

I ask questions in class like: “What would you do as a wedding planner if a same-sex couple came to you to ask you to put on a commitment ceremony (or wedding) for them?”  ”What about a bi-racial couple?” “What about an atheist couple?”  And I tell them the (true) story of a group that cried “foul!” when a hotel refused to host their sado-masochistic group function.  And I tell them they will have people of different faiths at their meetings.  And they will work with people who have different sexual orientations.  And I explain why I ask them these questions and tell them these things.  And I wonder if I offend them.

I sincerely believe it is necessary to raise these subjects in the classroom, a “safe zone” for expressing and exploring different beliefs.  And I hope I never get in trouble for saying these things.  Because they need to know about the real world, regardless of their personal beliefs (which I respect and protect, even if I don’t agree).

These challenges recently bled over into the real world when I went out of town and wanted to go see a friend with a new baby.  He and his partner have a new baby and I couldn’t wait to meet him!  But we were staying with another couple and they apparently haven’t addressed the issue of homosexuality with their 9-year-old.  (Which I find a little bizarre since I’m already explaining to my 2 and a half year-old that some families have a mommy and daddy, some have two mommies and some have two daddies).  And I don’t want to be the one to bring it to this kid’s attention.  And I don’t want to put my gay friends in what could end up an awkward position.  And I can’t believe that in this day and age, this is still an issue.

But then, I have a very open (if perhaps naive?) mind.  Some would call me a “social liberal.”  Some would call me worse.  Many in my own family (who, not coincidentally, reside in the Bible Belt states) disagree with my views and cite chapter and verse from the Bible as “proof” of their position.  I respectfully agree to disagree because I love them.

But having my own beliefs is one thing. (And, yes, I realize I’m not the only sole in the southeast with similar beliefs, but I don’t claim to speak for anyone else.)  As a professor, my beliefs come out in the classroom from time to time, whether I intend for them to or not.  And what I say influences my students to a greater or lesser degree (much lesser for the guy who sleeps through my mid-day Monday/Wednesday class).  And I hope it’s okay…with the students, with their parents, with the administration.  I’m not going to run around waving the academic freedom flag as a defense, because if it’s not okay, maybe I’m not in the right place.  Or I’m not the right person for the job.  But I hope I am because I love my job and I love my students.  My only goal is to help them see things, grow, and learn.  Sometimes that’s a bumpy road.

Carpe diversity.

The Challenges of Teaching Undergraduates

Tags

college, education, individuality

I was having a conversation today with someone about whether teaching undergraduates is challenging enough to “just teach” for the next 18 years (at which time I can draw a pension and retire on the beach.  Hey, it’s my dream.  Don’t mock it.).

It’s not that teaching undergraduates isn’t challenging–trying hard not to smile and applaud the latest creative excuses for not turning something in on time, the baffling “I-never-come-to-class-but-you-should-give-me-an-A” conversations, and the truly interesting students who range from the ones who make you laugh so hard you cry in class to the ones who come up with a fresh idea so novel that I wish I’d thought of it.  Those are day-to-day challenges of teaching undergraduates (as distinguished from grad students, where many of the challenges run to the “I-know-more-about-this-subject-than-you-do” variety.)

Undergrads doing their undergrad thing

But am I challenged–and therefore, challenging–enough to “just teach?”  Or is it an  imperative that I do more with my life and career?  Researchers research.  I’m not a researcher.  Oh, I could be.  I have the PhD and all.  But no fire in me to do research.  I do other stuff–I write, I speak, I network, I do outreach.  But does that stuff help me be a better teacher or hinder my teaching ability?  And more importantly, does it enhance me as a person, a wife, a mother, a friend…or just take away from the time and energy I have for those things?

After this conversation, I’ve decided it’s important to be true to who I am and ultimately, that’s how I become the best teacher I can be. And that means doing other stuff.  Because I think “just teaching” (no disrespect to those who are teachers or teaching professors, because really, who actually gets to “just teach”?) will make me stale and unchallenged.  And when I get unchallenged, I move.  Lock, stock, and barrel, I move.  Across the country, to another state, to a new job, to starting my own business.  It’s what I do.  I’m weird that way.

But most of all, because they deserve it.  The undergraduates, the graduate students, the non-degree students.  My husband, my son, my friends.  They deserve the best me I can be.  Even if that me has a few less hours in the week.  Even if that me is a little more distracted from time to time.

Carpe the real me.

My Name is Tyra…and My Kid’s a Biter.

Tags

biting, child, daycare, parent

For those of you who said (silently or out loud) “Hi, Tyra” – thanks for getting me.

It’s time to get the problem out in the open.  My 2 year old is a biter.  Worse, he’s actually kind of a bully…despite not even reaching 5% on the oft-cited mystery scale from the physician’s office.  Those of you who are parents know what I mean.  Conversations with other parents about “the scale” usually go something like:

“This is my daughter, Chloe, she’s 90% on height and 50% on weight.”  

To which I (mentally) reply, “Wait until she’s in college and gains the Freshman 15–then lets see who’s where on the scale.”

Or I get the pitying look and “Oh, he’s two and a half?  He’s so small for his age.”

Yeah, yeah, he’s less than 5% for height and weight.  He’s little.  But apparently he packs quite a punch…and bite…and hair pull.

That’s right, my kid’s not just a biter, he’s a…bully.  Ok, there, I said it.

Someone out there right now is probably raising their eyebrows and saying, “Ah, must be a violent home.”  You clearly do not know us and probably do not have kids, so I’m not paying attention to you. I might yell a bit despite my best efforts not to, but Mr. Safety (his father) is the most even-keeled person I’ve ever met.  Sometimes I have to check to make sure his pulse is still pumping, he’s so mellow.

Someone else is saying, “It’s all that violence he watches on TV.”  He gets about 4 hours of TV a week and only DVDs.  Just how violent does Elmo seem to you?  The kid doesn’t even know who Buzz Lightyear is.  We’re talking sheltered here.

Nonetheless, I believe I did bring this on.  See, when he was 1 he was in a different classroom with a kid we’ll just call B.  B was a biter.  And a hitter.  And crier, but that’s a different issue.  And he totally freaked me out.  I talked about B at home and how I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him.  Now I have one just like him (sans the crying).  And I imagine other people at home, saying, what’s wrong with that kid?  And it makes me sad.  And frustrated.  And slightly horrified.  

I actually am grateful for days when my kid gets bitten and isn’t the biter.  Ok, so now you know I’m a terrible parent.  But it’s nice to know my kid isn’t the only biter out there.

We’re trying positive reinforcement (he gets a monkey sticker on the calendar for any day he doesn’t bite at school) and negative reinforcement (no Bunny book at bed time – believe me, this is a huge deal).  Today’s our second day trying it and he did get a monkey sticker yesterday.  We’re hoping for a second today.

Biting something other than C

He has terrible taste in bitees.  The kid he seems to like to bite the most is C., the kid of someone I work with.  Great.  Really, you couldn’t pick any of the other 9 kids in the class?  You have to bite the one whose parent I have to see every day?  Thanks, kid.

Anyone else have suggestions/solutions for biting?  All his teeth are in–and have been for months.  So it’s not teething pain.  Is it because he’s the youngest in his class?  Because he’s less than 5% on the magical scale?  Because Elmo gives subliminal messages?  I’m open to any useful comments on cause and solutions.

Carpe monkey stickers.

Students InventingThemselves–and Me Reinventing Myself

Tags

college, education, individuality, real world, student

I have long felt like I have more in common with my students than I do with my colleagues.  It was true when I started teaching and it’s true even now, when my students look at me like I am as old as the hills (and about as relevant to their lives as the hills).  It’s true even though I realize I am older than many of their parents.  I still feel a kinship to them.

This despite the fact that I have no idea what they are talking about when they discuss “Real Housewives of Wherever” or the latest “I Think I Have Talent” reality show.  This despite the fact that they go out at 10:00 and I go to bed at 9:00.

Students are here in college, creating and inventing themselves.  They don’t always see it, but I do.  Teaching 100 level courses, I see them come in as, well, raw material (doesn’t give you a flattering visual, does it?).  By 400-level courses, they are a prototype, a roughed out product.  When they come back to see me a year or two after graduation, they are Them version 1.0 (or sometimes 2.0).  It’s a really cool process to see.

Some of my Them 3.0 students

I feel much the same.  I get bored with myself and who I am.  I try to tell myself that as long as I’m successful (whatever that means) and good at what I do, I should just keep on keeping on.  But it’s never enough.  It’s not that I’m aspiring to more money or a bigger car or house.  I’m not even aspiring to change jobs.  It’s more that I like the internal invention process.  Or reinvention, in my case.  I want to be Me version 8.3.2.  I’m tired of Me 8.3.1.  Or maybe I’m only Me 8.2 and I’ve got several steps to take before I’m Me 8.3.2.  What version of You are you?  How do you recreate/reinvent?

I relish being in a university environment where it seems anything is possible and there’s autonomy and opportunity to try different things, to be different.  I’ve met some cool people along the way, in and out of school, who also inspire me to try different things.  To be the best Me I can be.  I just wonder if that’s a moving target and if I’ll ever hit it.  Or will I be reinventing forever?  And is that a bad thing if I am?

There’s a lot I can learn from my students.  And I do, daily.  Sometimes I have to tell them what to do.  I wish someone would tell me what to do for a change.

Carpe reinvention.

Who Will Raise My Child if I’m Gone?

Tags

death, law, Parenting, will

Lately I’ve been fretting over the issue of who would raise my son if both my husband and I died.  I’m not just being melodramatic.  All parents of kids under 18 (or perhaps a bit older) need to think about this.  Have you?

We didn’t have our son until we were 42 and 45.  Just ask any actuarial and I’m sure they would say that this increases the odds that something could happen to us before he’s grown up and someone else might need to finish raising the Mole Boy (our son’s digital nickname, since Mr. Safety won’t let me use his real name online).

This has been a real challenge for us.  It’s not that we don’t have immediate family.  We do.  Mr. Safety has a sister and I have a brother and a cousin who is (or used to be) like a sister.  I’m sure, if asked, any of them would accept the responsibility.  The issue is finding someone who will raise MB the way we want him to be raised.  And finding someone who actually would embrace the job and not just do it out of a sense of obligation, familial or otherwise.  Among our choices are:

• Raging conservative family members whose views on many political, religious, and human rights issues are diametrically opposed to ours (but who we love in spite of this).
• A family member I used to be close to who initially accepted the role but who has taken the time to see MB exactly once in his 2-year+ life.
• A wonderful godmother who has never wavered from her commitment to never, ever have children (but is an awesome godmother).
• Some friends and family members who are older than we are and seem unlikely to want to “start a family” when they are in their 50′s or 60′s.
• Several friends who are “child free by choice,” which we respect.

We have some great friends who might embrace the role. But how do you broach this kind of conversation?

“Hey, it’s great to see you.  Glad we got to have dinner together.  Pass the rolls, please?  Oh, and will you take our child if we die?  Butter, too?  Thanks.”

It’s awkward.  And how does such a friend say, “Oh, no thanks” without fear of damaging the friendship?

It’s a little sad that we don’t have an “heir apparent” for our little heir apparent.  And we aren’t willing to leave it to “work itself out” when the time comes.

Parents, you need to think about this if you haven’t.  It needs to be in your written will.  Money for his care and any remaining estate should be put in a trust for him with the terms spelled out (hint: don’t let a 21-year-old inherit everything outright.  Even a level-headed 21-year-old could go a little crazy with a big check in hand.  I suggest that he/she gets some at 21, some at 25 and the rest at 30).  This isn’t legal advice.  I’m only a recovering attorney and not a wills and estates attorney.  Go talk to your lawyer.  Talk to your family and anyone else involved.  Everyone needs to be clear on what it means.

Friends, family, any takers on a Mole Boy? 

Carpe life but prepare for the alternative.

Students, If You Are Made of Sugar, You are Excused From Class

Tags

education, job, rain, weather

It’s raining today.  And apparently that wreaks havoc with students’ abilities to come to class.

Seriously, y’all, it’s just water falling from the sky.  I have seen you weather worse to come to class.  Oh, no, not weathering weather.  Weathering bad break-ups, family crises, hangovers, lack of clean laundry, and bad hair days, yes.  But not weather.  Rain, wind, snow (oh, my heavens, snow!), are (as one student Tweeted today) “a deal-killer” when it comes to attending class.

This alternately cracks me up and aggravates me.  It’s kind of funny because there will come a time when they realize they are much more capable of weathering storms–literally and figuratively–than they think they are and I wish I could be around to see every one make this realization.  Aggravates me because I worry that they are going to bag off of work as grown ups because it’s raining.  How long do you think they’ll keep that job?  I’m not too fond of walking across campus in the rain, either (at least not in grown up clothes and shoes), but I’ve made a commitment to do it.  So I will.

Though I did make the concession of wearing jeans to work today–even though it’s not Friday (gasp!).

It is this kind of thinking: “I can’t go to class. It’s raining!” that causes professors to include attendance as part of the course grade.

I think I need to have a stack of extra credit in-class assignments that I pull out on rainy days to reward those students who weather the harsh reality of sprinkles to come to class.  Come on, we can all be soggy together!

And besides, aren’t days like today the whole reason we buy cute rainboots?  Here are mine.

Carpe the rain.  Stomp in a few mud puddles.  It makes the rain much more fun.

I am Not Pursuing Writing, It is Pursuing Me

Tags

artists, fear, workshop, writing

I mentioned that I have this desire to write.  And then realized I already write.  I want to write more.  But it terrifies me.  And I’m too busy.  And I don’t know what to write.  Only I have three ideas in the hopper, two nonfiction and one fiction.  And that’s all crap because until I “sit the Hell down and write” (thank you, Patti Digh), I am not writing.

So I’ve busied myself with other things–trying to get ahead at work so I’ll have time to write, furnishing and decorating my new writing room that my husband created for me, spending quality time with my sweet two-year-old son.  None of which is writing.  Which is what I say I want to do.

Then WHAM! What hits my desk (at work) the other day?  A postcard, inviting me to register for a once-a-week workshop on “The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity” which professes to answer the questions:

• What are the basic principles of creative expression?
• How do I overcome blocks to my creativity?
• How can I be true to my authentic self while balancing life’s demands?
• How can I clarify and apply my unique strengths to my life?

I would like the answers to those questions, but am not sure I want to sit around with a bunch of artists and would-be artists and do my soul-searching with them.  I’m trying to convince myself that the this is a workshop for artists.  You know, those people who paint, sculpt, work in scrap metal, whatever.  Not would-be writers.  But it’s nagging at me.  It keeps popping up everywhere, that little pink postcard.  Upstairs, downstairs, in my writing room, in my purse, in my car.  It’s haunting me, hunting me, chasing me.  But I haven’t called the number.  Or checked the website.  Or gone to find out who “acclaimed author Julia Cameron” is, upon which this workshop is based.  Because if I don’t know, then quite possibly it isn’t for me.  So I’m going to do a little sleuthing right now…

I felt like a fish out of water at this writer's workshop

Okay, I found Julia Cameron Live and it sounds…um…a little touchy-feely.  Then I went to the website of all factoid websites, Wikipedia.  And found this information.  This Julia Cameron person was married to Martin Scorsese, for heaven’s sake.  How can she possibly have anything to say that would help me, a 40-something college professor with a desire to write something other than class notes?

But I’m certainly not helping myself too much.  I wonder if there’s a CliffsNotes version that wouldn’t require me to express myself in front of others?  I don’t really play well with others.  *sigh*  Ok, I’ll call.  But if they hold hands and sing Koombayah even once, I’m outta there.

Back off, pink postcard.

Carpe conquering your fears.

I Have a Dream…and it Terrifies Me. A Would-Be Writer.

Tags

aspiration, dream, fear, Mid-life crisis

Poaching a little on Martin Luther King’s words in the title there.  It’s his day.  I don’t think he’d mind.  Even though I’m not talking about a dream nearly as vast and meaningful as his dream.  My dream is…I want to write.  I’m not sure what I want to write exactly.  I just know I like to write.  I enjoy writing.  It’s something that’s all mine that I can do in solitude that makes me feel groovy.  And thus, I want to do more of it.

Somebody out there is bound to be saying, “Hey, dummy, you are writing.  I’m reading your blog.”  And yes, a blog is a start.  And I’ve written academic journal articles.  And book chapters.  And…  Hey, I guess I have written.  So let me revise my dream – I want to write what I want to write and I want it to be meaningful and helpful to someone else.  Hmm, that’s a much better dream.  Behold the power of writing.

I’m not going to say I aspire to be a great American novelist (but I’m not going to say I don’t, either).  But the books (and they are books) I have in mind are mostly non-fiction.  Not self-help, not humor, not DIY, not technical, but kind of hybrid multi-genre.

But every time I think about sitting down to write (and now I have a place to do so now – more about that in a moment), I get that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach  similar to the feeling I get when my husband says, “Hey, let’s ride that roller coaster!” Or, “Come stand on this 25-story ledge with me.” (Ok, he’s never actually said the latter, but he might as well because that’s what I hear when I hear “roller coaster,” “zipline,” “rooftop,” or anything else higher than about 8 feet.)

My husband, knowing and supporting my dream as only a wonderful partner can, made me a space to write in.  When I got home from a conference the other day, he surprised me with this:

After a weekend of shopping, it looks like this now:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has a long way to go, but it’s a start.  I’m just afraid.  Terrified, really.  I’m not sure of what–failure?  Success?  Ridicule?  I guess that’s why I’m putting this out there.  To take some of the power out of it.  Because my inclination is to keep this dream a secret.  And that could keep me in inaction.  And I need to take action.  I need to, as Patti Digh says, “Sit the hell down and write.”  And she’s right.

Are you ready to carpe your dream?  I will if you will.

Young People Don’t “Do” Professional Associations?

Tags

Association, convention, convention planners, generations, meeting planner, professional convention management, trade show

I’m getting ready to head off to San Diego to go to one of my favorite professional association annual conventions.  Professional Convention Management Association’s Convening Leaders.  Yes, it’s a convention of convention planners.  Don’t you love the irony?  Can you imagine the pressure the planners feel?  Planning for planners, sheesh.  That’s a no-win situation for sure.  And yet, they do it beautifully, at least in this recovering-meeting-planner’s mind.

2009 PCMA Professional Achievement Dinner

Anyway, PCMA is an association I’ve belonged to for years.  And one of about four that I currently belong to.  So I was rather upset at this Meetings & Conventions article “How Associations are Targeting Young Professionals.”  It seems that young people don’t really “do” professional associations.  They don’t get the value.

With the exponential growth of social media, I can kind of understand that they may perceive some redundancy.  Both allow formation of communities, both are resources for professional and personal growth, and so on.  But I do so love my professional associations.  As I told my husband, I love going to the PCMA convention because I see all my peeps there (and yes, I say “peeps” and he cringes…every time).

Maybe it’s because I teach meeting and convention management and without associations, there will be fewer conventions.  And without conventions, what I teach is obsolete.  Maybe it’s because my first “real” job was as a meeting planner for an association.  So this article concerns me from a self-preservation standpoint, but also from a nostalgia standpoint.  But it’s mainly because I truly see the value of professional associations for young people starting out in their careers as well as us “seasoned veterans.”  Professional associations have done so much for me (including giving me a group of peeps.  Go ahead, cringe.  You know you want to.).

What are your thoughts on professional associations and the younger generation? Can they change enough to remain what they are, only new and improved?  Or are they headed the way of the dinosaur?

Carpe professional associations.

Just Say “No” to Conference Calls

Tags

communication, conference call, meetings, technology

I have a friend who is a crusader and activist for many worthy causes–discrimination, disability rights, and so on.  I’ve never really understood that about her until now.  Now I have my own worthy cause to rally against – Down With Conference Calls!

With all due respect to the companies who provide the technology for conference calls, please diversify and find another line of business.  I don’t want you personally to suffer, but I want conference calls to die a quick and painless death.  Being on a conference call is like drowning slowly in a vat of molasses.

What I don’t like about conference calls:

• The fits and starts of people talking and accidentally interrupting each other that is far less comical than the Warner Brothers chipmunks (“After you.”  ”Oh, no, after you.”  ”Please, I insist.” And so on).
• Moderators who lack the ability to moderate a gaggle of disembodied voices well–including me.
• Lack of a clear agenda or failure to follow it.
• Hearing a voice and not being sure I’ve correctly identified who it is.
• Awkward silences.
• The guy who hits “hold” instead of “mute” on their phone so everyone else has to listen to the elevator music version of Barry Manilow’s “Lola” until he gets back from the bathroom.
• The incessant clicking of keyboards as people multitask.  And by multitask, I mean check their Facebook page and respond to witty posts by their 383 friends….one by one.

Ok, I needed to make that rant.  I’ve got to keep it short, though.  3 minutes until I have a scheduled conference call.  Give me strength.

Carpe the cause, brothers and sisters.