No, No, a Thousand Times NO!

Student #1: Can you just tell me exactly what to write on this paper so that I can get an A?

Me: No. You won't learn anything that way.

Student #1: But I'd have an A, so...

Me: I said no.

Student #2: Can you look over my works cited page and tell me if I did it right?

Me: There are some mistakes, so you'll need to revise them.

Student #2: Can't you just tell me how to correct them?

Me: No. I went over citations in class. I showed you how to find the information online, and it's also in the textbook.

Student #2: What if I just e-mail you at least three of my citations, and then I'll just correct the last one myself?

Me: Seriously, just look in the textbook. (rummages around in my bookbag for the bottle of aspirin I always bring to school)

Student #3: Could I set up an appointment with you to discuss my paper?

Me: No, I've already met with you twice to discuss your paper. If I meet with you a third time to discuss that same paper, it'll be like we're writing it together.

Student: But I can't figure it out by myself.

Me: As a student, it's your job to figure some of these things out for yourself. As the teacher, there's only so much I can do.

Student #3: How about I e-mail you my draft, and then you tell me what I should fix?

Me: No. Or as they say in Spain, no!

Meeting with students during my office hours is part of my job. And it is good to meet with students to find out what they're struggling with; it's better I know that now rather than when I'm grading their papers. What's not so good is when I have to set aside twelve (or more) extra office hours (in addition to my regular hours), as I've been doing almost every week since I came here, in order to accommodate all the students who want to meet with me. That means far fewer hours for grading, making lesson plans, research, and my website job, which is why I've had to stay up late almost every night to get all my work done.

At first I thought that I was the problem. I thought that maybe they kept coming to me for help because I wasn't getting through to them in the classroom. But dozens of appointments later (many of them with the same students over and over), I've realized that too many of these students want me to do the majority of the thinking, correcting, and revising for them, and all they have to do is fill in the blanks. I refuse to do that for them because I really want them to learn, and it's frustrating.

I can't keep going on like this. Because of my two jobs, I'm still working months at a time without a day off, and if I keep going at this rate, I'll have a heart attack before I turn forty from all the stress, or maybe just from all the coffee.

I've started being more firm with my students and setting more limits with my office hours. I will continue to be there for my students as much as I can, but I've finally started to realize that it's okay for me to say no sometimes, especially for the sake of my own health and sanity (and also because otherwise, I might start hitting myself with a chalkboard eraser during class and shrieking). I want to have more of a life outside of work, and that won't be possible if I keep saying yes every single time someone tries to get me to do extra work.

What about you? Do people at your job ever try to get you to do more work for their sake? Do you have a hard time saying no to them or in general?

Office Space

In academia, one of the most noticeable distinctions between untenured faculty and tenured professors is that the latter get their own individual offices, whereas untenured faculty have to share offices or don't get any space at all.

At one of the schools where I used to teach, the English Department would often take over my office for various reasons, such as "because we CAN", which is why I often had to meet with students in the cafeteria during my office hours (which all faculty are required to keep every week in order to be available to help students outside of class, regardless of whether or not they actually have an office). Nothing says, "I have arrived" like telling your students to meet you at the table next to the place where they make cheese sticks.

At another school where I used to teach, there was one office with about half a dozen cubicles that dozens of instructors had to share. There was one computer that we were all expected to share as well. One particularly greedy, self-centered instructor hogged the computer all the time, leaving his books and papers there even when he wasn't using it. When I sat down in front of the computer once, he asked, "Are you even doing work for school right now?" I wanted to say, "Why don't you come a little closer and ask me that again?" I was ready to throw down and go all WWE on him, but I might have gotten in trouble for wrestling one of my colleagues, even though he was a jerk. (I wish him a lifetime of broken computers, limited office space, and colleagues who are exactly like him.)

In Small Town, I shared an office with one other teacher, who was rarely there for students outside of class, so I mainly had the office and the computer to myself. It was nice to be able to work in peace and meet with students without hearing people say stuff like, "HEY! Get your OWN French fries!" I also liked that the department laminated my name, along with my title of "Dr." and hung it on the door, which was a nice change from all the other offices where my name was simply written on an index card and taped to the door. When I left Small Town, I took my laminated name plate with me.

In College Town, my "office" is actually a cubicle in a large room full of other cubicles, though at least I get my own desk this time. I texted a picture of it to one of my friends, who remarked that it was an "officle". I decorated it with pictures of my friends, postcards, and colorful office supplies.

One of the things I like best about working in academia is that I don't have to work in an office from 9-5. I like that I can do a lot of my work from home or in coffee shops, where I tell baristas, "Hit me with your best shot...of espresso that is!" and they all look at me blankly, not getting the Pat Benatar reference because they were born when Britney first came on the scene.

But since I am required to have office hours every week, I do have to spend several hours a week in my officle. I like the faculty; they've all been very nice and welcoming to me. But here is a small glimpse of what it's like to share office space with them:

Coworker #1: It is too cold in here. I'm turning off the A/C, okay?
Me: (sweat dripping down my face) Um, could we leave it on, please?
Coworker: OK, but I have to raise it to at least 75 because it is just so darn cold.
Me: (what I'd like to say: But if you're cold, you can put on a sweater. When I'm hot, I can't take off my shirt because then I'd just end up flashing all the undergrads and this is a college campus, not a Girls Gone Wild video.)

Coworker #2: Mm, this sandwich tastes so good.
Me: I bet all those onions make it taste like that. It's very, um, appetizing.

Coworker #3: How are your classes going? Did I tell you what happened in my class? (Launches into 15-minute story)
Me: (knows it would be unethical and illegal to slip a sedative into coworker's coffee, and yet...)

Also, it's not just my fellow faculty members; it's their students (as well as mine) coming in and out of the office to talk about their papers and their classes. There's constant chatter, and it can be a wee bit distracting.

But on the other hand, I keep reminding myself that officle aside, the point is that I have a better job than I did before, with a better salary too, as well as students who don't ask for a one-week extension to write a five page essay (after already being given three weeks to work on it). Sometimes, I walk around campus and feel lucky and glad to be there, especially after the stress I went through this past summer, where I was worried about not finding a job.

I will, however, be buying more coffee and a desk fan. And possibly sedatives.

What about you? What does your office space look like, either at work or at home?

A Tourist in My Hometown

Even though I spent the first eighteen years of my life in a small Midwestern town, I think of Chicago as my hometown. As the saying goes, "Home is where your heart is." In the town where I grew up, I was viewed by many people as "weird," but in Chicago, the vast majority of people are weird and it's actually considered "weird" to be "normal."

That's why when a relative offered to pay for my plane ticket to Chicago in exchange for my taking care of their two dogs for a week this past summer while the relative was out of town, I jumped at the chance. I was happy to spend time with those two adorable dogs, who snuggled by my legs when I slept and insisted on being carried around 90% of the time. 

I was also happy to be back in the city where I lived for more than a decade. When I was walking down State Street, here's a small sampling of what I heard:

"I hate you! I don't know you, but I hate you!"

"Oh yeah? I hate you too!"

"GET OUTTA THE WAY! Where'd you learn how to drive, freak show?"

"Dude, just be cool. The cops are right there!"

Even though it was supposedly summer, I had to wear several layers of clothes because it was so cold. Some guy pulled my hair on the El after I didn't smile when he ordered me to, and I responded by kicking him in the leg and then running off the train. A woman yelled at me in Spanish and threw sunflower seeds at me while I was eating a Chicago-style hot dog. And all I could think was, Ah, Chicago. It's good to be home.

Although I made sure I spent enough time with the dogs, such as taking them to the dog park and playing with them, I also did the things that tourists usually do in the Windy City. I rented a Divvy bike and took a ride by the lake. I visited the Art Institute (I've always loved the Impressionists' paintings and the Thorne Miniature Rooms best). I ate Chicago-style pizza and window-shopped on Michigan Avenue. I wrote in my favorite coffee shop in Lincoln Park. 

I took a selfie by the "bean" in Grant Park, and I walked around Boystown, my favorite neighborhood (aka East Lakeview). I couldn't help looking at the handsome, muscular men in Boystown, almost all of whom are very friendly and nice, and I thought, Dang. Too bad they're gay. I also got to hang out with an old friend who lived in Boystown.

I visited the American Writers Museum, a new museum that just opened in the Loop. It's small, and it has things like pictures of famous writers, as well as displays of their most famous quotes and information about their books. I thought it was wonderful and high time that writers got their own museum in this city.

I was quickly reminded by how fast Chicagoans walk, unlike most of the people in Small Town, who like to take their time walking, driving, and talking. Chicagoans, on the other hand, will not hesitate to push people out of the way and/or swear at you if you're walking too slowly. (I must admit that I was exactly the same way when I lived there.)

It felt so good to be back in the city again, if only temporarily. But it felt different this time around. I felt more like a tourist. It almost felt like I didn't belong there anymore, maybe because it had been more than two years since I'd lived there. And I felt sad, too, thinking of all the memories that that place held.

There was the beach where I and some of the other teachers took our students one afternoon as part of a field trip, back when I taught high school students. I had to keep telling students that I would call their parents and/or give them detention if they kept trying to drown each other. There was the spot in Grant Park where I hung out with some casual acquaintances that I thought were cool, right up until the point where they pulled out a joint and offered me a hit. I was all, "Uh, I just remembered that I'm late for my flamethrowing lesson. Gotta go!" There was the school where I taught my first class as a college instructor. There was the school where I earned my PhD, and I tried not to fall asleep during boring lectures by thinking of funny moments from Jersey Shore.

I remember when I was a kid, I wanted to be an adult so that I could do whatever I wanted. But the thing about adulthood is that you realize that you really can't do whatever you want. You can't stay out until 3 A.M. because you have to get up early for work, and anyway when you reach your thirties you actually want to go to bed earlier (at least I do). You can't eat ice cream for dinner because you're worried about your waistline (although I will admit that I have eaten ice cream for dinner, and that was because I "accidentally" burned the healthy meal that I prepared). And I can't stay in Chicago forever, even though I want to, because the rent and sales tax are too high (and don't even get me started on their soda tax) and I can't find a decent full-time teaching job there, at least not right now.

That's why I ended up first in Small Town and then in College Town. In academia, there are way too many PhDs and not enough jobs, so you have to go where the work is. But one good thing about being back in the Midwest is that Chicago is not as far away from College Town as it is from Small Town (though it's far enough that I can't go there every weekend, or even every month). But at least I won't necessarily have to wait until next summer before I go back for another visit.

Chicago will always be home. But another thing about adulthood is that you have to accept that some things don't last forever, and you have to move on.

What about you? Where is the "home" where your heart is?

Ottomans, Ice Breakers, and Anxious E-mails

I've been living in College Town for about a month now. It doesn't seem that long because I've been so busy.

For one thing, I had to deal with the movers and unpacking all of my stuff. Fortunately, the moving company I hired this time around did a MUCH better job than the furniture-stealing, price-gouging, we-were-out-getting-high-or-who-knows-what-and-THAT'S-why-your-delivery-was-several-days-late-but-deal-with-it-SUCKER scam artists I hired the last time around. None of my furniture or belongings were stolen or damaged this time, and the movers showed up when they said they would. And they didn't scream at me like the last movers did (the scam artist on the phone literally screamed at me when I asked them why it was three days past the promised delivery date and I still hadn't gotten my stuff yet and he just kept yelling, "I don't KNOW!").

Since I hope to stick around in College Town longer than I did in Small Town, I've actually made more of an effort to furnish and decorate my apartment. I've made a "wish list" of things I'd like to eventually get for my apartment, including a storage ottoman that could double as a coffee table, a bedside table (to replace the one that the scam artists stole two years ago), and another bookcase (the moving company from two years ago not only disassembled my bookcase and refused to put it back together, they damaged it so badly that I couldn't reassemble it myself). I also have a wish list of pop songs I want to download, including the solo singles of all the members of One Direction, but that's another story.

I went to the orientation for new faculty at my new school, and it lasted several days long, for eight or nine hours a day. We had to do various ice breakers that everyone else seemed excited to participate in, whereas I was all:


via GIPHY

The fall term just started, and I've literally already gotten dozens of anxious e-mails from students that say stuff like, "I don't have the textbooks for class yet! I won't get an F for that, will I?" or "I might have to miss class for two days in October. I won't get an F for that, will I?" or "I think I bought the wrong books for this class. But it's not like I really need the textbooks for this class, right?" My response to that question was basically like this:


via GIPHY

But so far, it's been okay. The other faculty have been pretty nice to me, and the campus at my new employer's school is beautiful and much bigger than the campus at my old school. College Town is all right, too. There are more shopping and dining options than there were in Small Town, which is nice, because I no longer have to drive several hours just to go someplace like Best Buy, a shopping mall, or a restaurant that doesn't play country music 24/7 (actually, I basically had to drive OUT of Tennessee for that last one, because that state is all ABOUT the country music).

As far as socializing goes, I set up an account on Meetup.com, and there are a few meetups that look interesting in College Town. One of them organizes get-togethers almost every week, and they have one coming up pretty soon. I'm planning to go and hopefully meet some nice, interesting people who I could possibly be friends with, and whose personalities don't make me want to head-butt them.

What about you? Other than Meetup, how do you meet new people and make new friends?

Singing My Way Out of the South

Before I left Small Town for good, Small Town Guy organized a going-away dinner for me. Nine of my friends showed up for the dinner, which meant a lot to me. When I first moved to Tennessee, I didn't know a single person there. I'd come from a life in Chicago that revolved around work, eating alone in school cafeterias, and kicking/and or swearing at guys who tried to grope me on the El. My life in Small Town also revolved around work, but it also included shared meals and parties with friends. When I look back on the two years I spent in the South, I'll miss the friendships I made there the most.

I remember looking at everyone as we ate together and spent hours talking, and thinking to myself, It'll never be like this with them ever again. Sure, I might come back to visit, but that is a long time from now (I have to pay off at least some of the enormous debt I incurred from all my moving expenses first), and by the time I come back, some people will have moved on to other places too and new people will have shown up, and it won't be the same. It made me feel sad when I thought of how this was yet another important part of my life that I had to give up in order to pursue a career in academia.

Although many things bothered me about my life in Small Town, such as the fact that I wasn't treated fairly at work, drivers who drove fifteen miles an hour in the left lane, and neighbors who yelled "WHOOOO" approximately five hundred times a night while tossing beer cans in the parking lot, there are some things I'll miss, other than my friends.

I'll miss the mild weather (it felt like spring lasted a lot longer there), even though Small Town basically shut down during the winter. There were usually no more than a couple inches, but it was enough to make most of the restaurants, stores, and schools shut down. People frantically stocked up at Walmart for the "blizzard," and I'd say, "You mean the snow that is melting as we speak?" In the Midwest, we get several feet of snow, wear multiple layers of clothing for more than two-thirds of the year, and keep ourselves warm by complaining about how cold it is.

I'll miss the mountains. As I drove out of the South, I went from driving past the green mountains of Tennessee to the flat farmland of the Midwest. Sometimes when I got claustrophobic in Small Town, I'd drive to bigger cities and towns, but what I enjoyed most was looking at the mountains. I never failed to marvel at how beautiful they all were.

I'll miss the interesting cities in Tennessee, including Nashville, which was my favorite. It was several hours away from Small Town, but I liked going there because of its thriving literary scene, including the open mic nights and poetry readings that were held there every week, hosted by hipsters who would no doubt have tossed their man buns at me in disgust if they saw all the pop songs on my playlist (I heart you, Taylor Swift. You too, Ariana Grande.) I even took a one-day writing workshop at The Porch, which is a writer's collective.

Nashville also has a really good music scene. A few months ago, I watched Vanessa Carlton perform (she sounds just as good live as she does on her albums) at 3rd and Lindsley, a bar that has a Sunday night concert series.

I also went to a concert at the Grand Ole Opry (there were a variety of musicians that I didn't recognize, but they were all very good), where several people attended wearing cowboy hats and boots. I also walked down Broadway in Nashville, which is full of honky tonk bars where aspiring country musicians perform. I bought a soda in a couple of those bars and listened to the musicians sing, and I thought it was so cool that I basically had access to all these "concerts" for the price of a couple bucks.

I told the English Department secretary at my former school about my new job in College Town, and I remarked about how I had spent almost my entire life in the Midwest. She said, "Well, maybe it's where you need to be." Maybe she's right, at least for now. But I think it was good for me to get out of my comfort zone, live in a state that I had never been to before, work at a rural college, teach students whose mindset was very different from my Chicago students (in Small Town, several students wore Make America Great Again hats. If they did that in Chicago, people would probably snatch the hats right off their heads, yell, "What's the matter with you, FOOL?" and throw the hats into oncoming traffic), and make new friends.

Before I left, I made a "Southern Songs" playlist made up of country music. Even though I felt sad to leave my friends behind, I sang practically the whole time I drove out of the South.

What about you? If you were to leave your town/city behind, what would you miss most?

When a Troll Is Someone You Know

Recently I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and came across a post from a former high school classmate of mine who'd served in the military. They wrote about President Chump's (oops, I meant President Trump. Or DID I?) ban on transgender people in the military.

HS Classmate wrote a long post about how they felt the ban was fair and the right thing to do, and listed all the reasons that transgender people deserved to be discriminated against. They argued that transgender people belonged in mental institutions, not the military.

I learned from firsthand experience that it's never a good idea to argue with people on the Internet. But this time I couldn't hold my tongue. I wrote on HS Classmate's post that it wasn't fair to discriminate against people, that they weren't mentally ill, and that they deserved to be treated with respect.

I thought of the transgender people I'd met in Chicago, who were funny, kind, talented, and beautiful. I thought of the transgender student in my class this year, who confided in me about how they'd been kicked out of their house by their parents after coming out as transgender. I thought of the transgender people who sang and danced on floats in the Pride Parade in Chicago and how no one there made them feel ashamed for being who they were.

But HS Classmate kept ranting about transgender people. When I shared an article on FB that discredited several of the claims they made about them, they filled up my Facebook page with several condescending retorts and more lengthy rants. I informed HS Classmate that no matter what they said or posted, they would never change my mind.

HS Classmate claimed that they had a right to their beliefs, and several of their FB friends agreed with them and joined in on attacking my comments that defended transgender soldiers and insulted me personally, though they'd never met me. HS Classmate didn't tell them to back off, of course, but seemed to revel in the attention.

I know that everyone has a right to their beliefs, including that person. But I still think it's wrong to use your beliefs as justification to discriminate against other people and deny them rights that they should be (and are) entitled to.

Now that I'm moving to College Town, I'll be living just a few hours away from the small Midwestern hometown where I grew up, where this person still lives. It's possible I'll run into them, and I'm willing to bet that they'll try to get me to talk about this. If they do, I'll say this:

"You have a right to your beliefs, and I have a right to mine. For example, my belief is that you're a Trump-supporting, InfoWars believing, Breitbart reading, conspiracy theory spouting, gay bashing, transgender hating BIGOT who's never been discriminated against a day in your life and is so threatened by people who aren't exactly like you that you feel the need to try to control them and put them down for being who they are. But again, that's just my opinion. So, how've you been since high school?"

One of my other high school classmates asked this person what impact transgender soldiers had had on their service in the military when they were on active duty. But HS Classmate didn't respond, perhaps because they didn't have a valid response to it.

The whole thing made me angry, and I unfollowed (but did not unfriend) this person on Facebook. If and when I do see them again and if they argue with me about this issue again, I might "accidentally" spill a hot beverage on them and/or "accidentally" make them trip and fall. But I digress.

What about you? How do you deal with people whose political views differ from your own?"