Midterm grading...

29 February 2020: It's that wonderful time of the semester. Sigh. Right now I've got 6 more essays to grade, so I should be fine. But part of the "should be fine" is a result of not letting up for like three weeks straight. Anyway...here's a line from a student's essay, about men getting upset when women don't laugh at their jokes, that made me laugh out loud: "I would venture to say this means women laugh at more things that are actually funny, or as some like to call it, 'smart humor.'"

"Light On"

28 February 2020: Hannah sent me this song today and I instantly loved it. Perfect vibe for a long Friday and maybe for this year...

"And I am finding out
There's just no other way
That I'm still dancing at the end of the day"

"the feminist tool-belt..."

27 February 2020: Grading midterm essays all day and find myself struck by this insightful and funny (and kind of butch) line from one of my GWST/HNRS seminar students: "The withholding of laughter is a prominent feature in the feminist tool-belt."

I've been thinking a lot about this lately--how easily we laugh at what disturbs or offends us, or perhaps even more problematically, how women laugh when men say unacceptable things. My favorite (and by that I mean least favorite) manifestation is when men (and not all men...duh) make jokes about why they haven't done something they were supposed to do, why they did something they weren't supposed to do, or why they messed up, as if their charming "oh shucks" moves absolve them. And I love (and by that I mean love) the move of just looking back at them without smiling or laughing. Such a flex.

So yeah...totally featuring that tool on my feminist tool-belt.

"Fraktur"

26 February 2020: So many options for today's post, including:

• The way my students collectively tensed up as we watched the closing 20 minutes of Nanette in the GWST/HNRS seminar today, a testimony to the power of Gadsby's performance. I sat behind them all as they watched and the tension was palpable.  
• The fun and complicated discussion I had with my YA Lit class over the sentimentality (I actually called it "cheesiness") of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.
• The amount of stress/anxiety/energy I felt this morning that spurred me to take a spontaneous lap around the block at 8:30 a.m.--and how lovely it felt with the cool morning mist falling on my face.
• The never-ending flood of emails that makes me want to burst back outside again.
• The practice session we had for the six students who are presenting their work this weekend at the WV Undergraduate Literary Symposium. (They are so good, so smart, and so energizing...)
• The fact that I've been on campus since 7:00 a.m. and it's 6:18 as I type this and there is still so much to do.
• The sore throat that is in its very early stages and that I am trying my best to ignore. (Colleagues and students are dropping like flies and these stacks of midterms can't grade themselves.)

But instead, I think I'll just link to this episode of 99% Invisible, which I started listening to early this morning. It so good. Come for the font discussion, stay for the references to Martin Luther, and crazy proposed recommendations for federal architectural guidelines.

Dante, Aristotle, windows, and mirrors...

25 February 2020: “It’s like my mom and dad created a whole new world for themselves. I live in their new world. But they understand the old world, the world they came from—and I don’t. I don’t belong anywhere. That’s the problem.” --Benjamin Alire Saenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

Re-reading this book again for my YA lit class and falling for it all over again. T

his time, perhaps because I am also teaching American Ethnic Literature in the same semester, I am paying more attention to the role of ethnicity, specifically the title characters' Mexican-American heritage, on display in the passage above. In the Ethnic Lit class, I've been thinking and talking quite a bit about first-generation Americans' experiences with their parents, something that is also reflected here.

In the YA class, I keep talking to my students about the "windows and mirrors" concept, specifically multicultural YA--that some students need texts that allow them to see into worlds they don't know (windows) and others need texts that reflect themselves back (mirrors). But texts like this one? In this moment, they do both. Dante is like so many kids--feeling unable to fit into his parents' world and like he doesn't belong anywhere. Yes, his experience is shaped by his ethnicity, but some of what he is talking about transcends that.

Home a bit early...

24 February 2020: Even with a college meeting at 3:15, I still managed to make it home today just a bit after 4:30. That's basically unprecedented for a Monday. I still had work to get done, but when the meeting got out, I was across campus (having driven to make it to the meeting on time after my class let out), and I was determined to get home. Glad I did, because upon greeting this fellow, he insisted on using my outstretched hand as a spot to rest his head.

In the Walgreen's parking lot...

23 February 2020: This morning, sitting in what passes for traffic in Shepherdstown, I saw two people walk across the Walgreen's parking lot, with outstretched and open arms, meeting for an embrace. I don't know who they are, how well they know each other, how surprised they were to see each other, or anything about them really. All I know and all I will carry with me is that image. And, on a weekend when I've spent a lot of time alone and thinking, that's enough. 

"Foolish Heart"

22 February 2020: Listening to Music for All Occasions on this quiet Saturday. Getting work done, thinking (and feeling), with a bit of a rockabilly/Tex-Mex beat...

"Unending Stream of Life"

21 February 2020: Had the absolute pleasure of seeing Shepherd's Wind Ensemble's concert this evening. This piece really captivated me.

Genius...

20 February 2020: "Virginia Woolf was like 'Senator Warren said she would decimate the billionaire herself.'” --R. Eric Thomas in his latest masterpiece, this one on last night's debate.

"The Pedestrian"

19 February 2020: I keep telling my students this semester that I wish every one of them was in every one of my classes because the material keeps intersecting in such unusual and unexpected ways. In American Ethnic literature, we've been wrestling with questions about identity, racism, and double-consciousness. In Young Adult Literature, we've wrapped up our discussion of Monster and are about half-way through The Hate U Give. In my seminar on gender and humor, we've finished Phoebe Robinson's book and spent our last class discussing 2 Dope Queens. 

So today's poem-of-the-day just really hit me. I love its use of the sonnet form, its title's double-meaning (as a noun and an adjective--as in, this is just an ordinary occurrence), and its quiet devastation. Give it a read.

Back to 2 Dope Queens...

18 February 2020: Spent part of this morning grades students' "Listening Responses" to episodes of 2 Dope Queens, an assignment in my "Gender and Comedy" seminar this semester. Basically, I told them to pick any episode, listen carefully, take some notes, and write some things down.

The students loved the podcast. Loved it.

And the assignments? These were really good. I am telling you, even their grammar was better than usual. What? How? A Phoebe and Jessica miracle, especially impressive for a show that isn't even producing new episodes anymore.

"The Show of Delights"

17 February 2020: I actually listened to this episode of This American Life yesterday and found it, well, delightful. It was the perfect thing to listen to on a late Sunday afternoon. And today, as I've been moving through a busy Monday, it keeps replaying in my mind in all the best ways.

"Work Without Hope"

16 February 2020: Thinking about this poem this morning...

"Work Without Hope"
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— 
The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— 
And Winter, slumbering in the open air, 
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! 
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,         
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. 

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, 
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. 
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, 
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! 
With lips unbrighten'd, wreathless brow, I stroll: 
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? 
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, 
And Hope without an object cannot live.

Mini-break with my boys...

15 February 2020: Quiet Saturday here, but I've been trying to stay productive. Snapped this picture during a mini-break. I was on my way out for a walk (as you can tell by the hat I'm wearing) when I came across Bing, who jumped up on the bed and indicated he wanted me to join him. It's hard to say no to him these days, as he's showing some signs of age. "Okay--just for a minute," I said. Soon Wes joined us, his paws on my arm. "Just a minute" turned into a bit longer, but not too long. Can't complain. These two have been with me for nearly 18 and 16 years, so they've earned it.

Sigh...

14 February 2020:

"Recitatif"

13 February 2020: “Those four short months were nothing in time. Maybe it was the thing itself. Just being there, together. Two little girls who knew what nobody else in the world knew—how not to ask questions. How to believe what had to be believed. There was politeness in that reluctance and generosity as well.” --Toni Morrison, "Recitatif"

Getting ready to teach this story in American Ethnic Literature tomorrow and continue to be blown away by it, particularly the way Morrison gets us in the mind of an older narrator remembering her younger self. I've been thinking a bit about friendships from my youth this week, specifically about how my impressions of them and their meanings have changed over the years. This story leans right into that spot in my brain/heart. 

"Uppity"

12 February 2020: “But it turns out for me that carrying on isn’t enough. Holding my head high and rising above doesn’t make me feel strong or fierce. It makes me feel stifled. Almost as if I am choking on a tiny injustice and that one of these days, the right injustice is going to lodge itself in my throat and take my voice and my very last breath. Therefore, the only reliable protection for me is to speak up. On that day with that White Director, I made the choice to never again be quiet, to never again suck it up. I challenged him. And I will do it again. If that make me uppity, so be it. At least people know I’m no longer a vessel they can use to act out their racist feelings. They will know that I think I’m worth fighting for. They will know that I have a fire burning inside me. They will know that I’m alive.” --Phoebe Robinson, in the hit-it-out-of-the-park ending to her chapter called "Uppity" in You Can't Touch My Hair

Having so much (smart) fun teaching this book this semester...

Look up...

11 February 2020: Got home today feeling a bit stressed. Laid on my back across the ottoman and chair. Closed my eyes and just took a minute. Opened them and found my #1 fan watching out for me from above. Felt better almost immediately.

Sign here...

10 February 2020: In my role as chair of the university Curriculum and Instruction Committee, I have to sign all course change and program change forms after their second reading.

How full have our agendas been lately? Well, I have over 80 forms to sign tonight. Sign name, print name, date form. Yikes.

So here's a sentence I just texted to Hannah, perhaps the weirdest sentence I'll type this semester: "I think I'll sign these C&I forms while watching the first episode of that Ted Bundy doc and then head to bed."

The academic life is so weird.

Spinning...

9 February 2020: Just a moment that stood out to me today…

I was finishing up a walk through my neighborhood and passed the little playground near my house. Some kids were playing there. Two of them laid on their bellies on the swings, twisting the chains up and then letting them go, sending the kids spinning around and around. I remembered doing that myself and found myself charmed by the timelessness of such a simple joy.

“Dear Future Female President: My List of Demands”

8 February 2020: “When you get sworn into office, yell, 'I'm a feminist,' and then throw your fist in the air like you're Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club....Don’t be trifling about being a feminist…[do] the actual work of trying to make things equal for everybody. You’re going to have to roll up your sleeves and get dirty in order to create a society that takes women as seriously at the men. The type that encourages us not to define ourselves by who we go to bed with at night, but by who and what we see reflected back at us in the mirror in the morning. The type that recognizes that women are not a monolith and that they have wildly different experiences informed by their race and/or sexuality. Be that beacon of light that we can look toward. Be the feminist who will help normalize the idea of Feminism for society. Be the feminist everyone needs. No presh.” --Phoebe Robinson, You Can't Touch My Hair...

I am re-reading Robinson's book for my Gender and Humor seminar. In her blog post last week, one of my students wrote that she wasn't really "very feminist," but if you know her, you know that's not true. Like so many young women, she just doesn't really know what the word means. I can't wait for her to get to this section of the book.

[A really interesting addendum: Robinson notes that if this first female president is a woman of color, she'll need to "chill out." "You need to be hella low key about your feminism, at least during the first term. This sucks, but them's the breaks, Madam President."]

"Editing as Carework"

7 February 2020: “The more aligned editing becomes with feminized worlds of teaching, service, and care, the less cultural capital such work accrues.” --Sarah Blackwood, "Editing as Carework: The Gendered Labor of Public Intellectuals"

I've been thinking about this article since I read it yesterday. It intersects with so many projects I am working on--the long-in-the-works "book" project, the Larcom piece, another piece on Harriet Jacobs. But it also comments on my whole "balance" project and my need to say "no" more. (This, on the day I learn, via email, that I've been put on another committee...)

"Easy Pearls"

6 February 2020:
"I recognize the way you hide your pain.
Asking me questions you don't really mean.
Maybe I pull against the way you lean
Into the things I say.
I'll give you less that way
Or maybe I just refuse to be here for you.
Maybe that's who I am underneath my official plan.

We dive for easy pearls and leave the rest forgotten.
We leave the best of worlds on the bottom." --"Easy Pearls," Girlyman

Feeling a cold coming on, and feeling a bit overwhelmed but can't quite put my finger on why. And, in general, just feeling a lot.

"These were my mother's pride..."

5 February 2020: “These were my mother’s pride—my wild freedom and overflowing spirits. She taught me no fear save that of intruding myself upon others." --Zitkala-Ša, Impressions of An Indian Childhood

Re-reading this today in preparations for a class on Friday. Maybe because it's been a long day and I am tired, but I found myself quite moved by these words, loving and elegiac both for the mother who raised her and the world that has disappeared. 

Peak Heidi Podcast Content...

4 February 2020: Hard to imagine a podcast better tailored to yours truly than this latest episode of Decoder Ring. Here's the intro:

"One hundred and fifty years ago, Lord Byron and Harriet Beecher Stowe collided in the pages of the Atlantic. The resulting smash up endangered an August American publication altered the reputations of two of the most famous in their time authors that have ever lived and most lastingly besmirched the less famous woman at the story’s center. At issue were so many of the topics that are still consuming us today civility, celebrity, feminism, fairness, fake news and bad literary men. Also, it’s hella juicy. So today, undercoating. What did Cancel culture look like in the 1860s?"

Give it a listen!

It's been a Monday...

3 February 2020: The day started off with me realizing that Wesley was locked in the garage all night, which makes me feel so guilty. (I was so focused on Bing last night because he's been extra sneeze-y...) Late afternoon included a student I am rather fond sitting in my class in the midst of a mental health crisis. Then a meeting that was over two hours that felt like something out of Beckett.

So yeah...feeling kind of anxious and tired and cranky. Some Mondays are like that.

A strong pig game...

2 February 2020: I have very little to say about the football game, but two of my best friends (completely independently) texted me pictures of their game-day pigs-in-a-blanket. Both also demonstrated fine form in their wrapping. If this is part of my legacy and reputation (“she makes great pigs-in-a-blanket”), you better believe that I am okay with that. On a quiet Sunday evening, I am grateful for the bit of joy this brings me.

This darn book...

1 February 2020: "You saved my life, she tried to tell him. Not forever, not for good. Probably only temporarily. But you saved my life, and now I'm yours. The me that's me right now is yours." --Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park

Finishing up this darn book in preparation for Monday's class. This super-sweet book about teenagers. Shouldn't work on me as well as it does. But man, it works. Was literally teared up reading it--and I've read this book a half-dozen times.