searched for the source, but can only find various unattributed uses |
searched for the source, but can only find various unattributed uses |
Time to celebrate! The end is nigh!
Seriously, every student should celebrate the successful end of a semester. It is no small accomplishment. Semesters are fifteen intense weeks of learning, discovery, and demonstrating that you were present and awake for all of that.
Graduation is tomorrow for my student teachers. I'll be there in my Masters regalia, no doubt thinking ahead to graduation in May of 2026 when I will be able to wear my new Doctoral regalia to celebrate my students. (Yeah, I'm thinking less of my own pending graduation in favor of theirs, but I assure you, looking forward to the day that a colleague of mine drapes that hood over my shoulders is pretty exciting).
But I won't get ahead of myself. I have three spring semesters, two summers, and two fall semesters left before then. I know I will be a different person, having those years of study and growth behind me. One semester alone has left me different.
I did have some doubts in August. Had I made the right choice? Would I be able to balance classes, teaching, momming, spousing, and coping with chronic pain? Would I find the workload overwhelming? Would I actually like any of the people I would be in classes with for the next three years? Would the unexpected come along and thrown me off course?
That last one is still a possibility, but I can definitively say that I did make the right choice, that I handle the workload, that I can balance this new aspect of my life in with everything else. In some ways, I am more efficient than I have been in previous semesters. Knowing that I have my own reading for classes, and my own assignments to complete, I have been on top of grading in a way I rarely am. Teaching writing is wonderful, but I usually procrastinate when it comes to grading. Having so much more on my own To-Do list has made me work a bit harder in all areas of my life.
I joked in my application to this program that one of the reasons I wanted to get the degree was so I could finally stop telling students not to call me Dr. Hyson. I wrote it as a joke, but it was not entirely one. A fellow student presented on the toll contingency has on adjuncts. I almost passed over reading their poster because it was too real in some ways. It's like the way I can't watch scenes where characters severely injure their knees because I know that pain so well.
Will contingency go away after I add that three more letters after my name - Sarah Hyson, MS, MA, EdD? Nope, no guarantee there. Many, many adjuncts have their terminal degree. Some of them are teaching the courses in this doctoral program.
But the ceiling will disappear. I will be eligible for conversion to tenure-track, even if it never happens.
I had fun making people angry.
Okay, so it was a righteous anger, and not so much fun as a satisfying result. Poster sessions at conferences are always interesting. Apart from the values of professionals representing a whole bunch of information on a small space, there is always a wide variety of information.
This is one of the reasons I assign something like this to my students (yes, a recurring theme in my reflections this semester). I changed it up a bit for my students this time around. Early in the semester I put them in groups based on their research topics, each group having a thread (or a couple of threads), linking them together. Granted, some of the threads were as hard to see as that spider web on a hike that you walk right through, but they were there. Those groups just had to stretch a bit to find - or wander through the woods of their research before accidentally running into their threads.
When it came time to present, I gave each group two goals - they had to convey their topic and the results of their research while also finding those threads and showing the synthesis of their topics. I love tweaking this end-of-semester presentation every year, so I can definitively say it was the best semester of presentations yet.
So, of course, I was thinking about how I assign similar experiences to my students while a student in my doctoral courses. I like being reminded what it is like being on the presenter end rather than the professor end.
Granted, the presentations at the doctoral level are a little different from what my undergrads present, but I see the same commitment to inform at both levels, the same passion for a chosen topic.
My passion was evident throughout the semester, as I began really working on what I hope will be the foundation for my dissertation. Seeing other people get angry when they saw my poster, saw the statistics, saw the lack of progress over decades, was not just satisfying, it further pushed me to create the change for which I see a desperate need.
Even without classes, my winter is going to be busy.
I'll take a moment to talk about some of that other information I saw from the rest of the doctoral students in my cohort. Several addressed the experience of marginalized communities in varying aspects of education. This included the mental health effects, which was a linking thread to several other presentations (they could have had a panel in my class, too). Other students focused on subject-specific topics: literacy, reading, math, music, play-based learning. Like I said, there was a wide variety, which meant I was able to learn a lot in a short time.
This should serve as a reminder - always stop by the poster sessions at conferences.
I tend to be wary of self-assessments that ask you to take a quiz and then tell you what kind of person you are. There is an aspect which is interesting - will my existent thoughts of who I am come through in the results of the test? Might the results be skewed because of my self-image projecting onto how I answer the questions, whether or not I am aware of this happening?
In my high school psychology class, we took a test that was supposed to show whether you were right or left brain dominant - right indicating creativity and left indicating logic. The scale of the test was a -20 indicating completely right-brained dominance and a +20 complete left-brained. Our teacher had us form an arc in the classroom, lining up according to our scores. As all my classmates finished sorting themselves out, I asked the teacher whether I should go out to the courtyard and stand there. I had scored a -40. He double-checked my scoring, not believing me initially, but confirmed that I done the match correctly and achieved a score he had never seen before.
I have taken the full Myers-Briggs personality test several times - the full test of over 200 questions, not a set of 20 quick questions on a quiz website - in part because a friend of mine is a certified Myers Briggs practitioner. When taking the test, I can intuit for many of the questions the result each answer leads to. So is it possible that because I see myself as introverted, I am more likely to choose answers which I know indicate introversion? It is certainly possible.
Then there are all the articles out there claiming to debunk such tests.
This was on my mind as I took the Gallup Strengths Assessment, which leaves me wondering whether my internal sense of self had any effect on the results. Taking that one step further, would it matter if it did? After all, my own sense of self could be entirely accurate. Regardless, I found the results intriguing.
This post is a little late - but I have a solid reason.
Most of these, so far, answer a prompt for one of the courses I am currently enrolled in. This prompt asks about positionality and networking. My brief comment on positionality - writing about that is easy for me. I write personal reflection regularly, so putting it in the form of a statement regarding my research topic did not cause anxiety or stress on my part.
Networking, though.
Here are my reasons for delaying this post:
We are just past the week I always describe as the worst week of the semester. In Week 10 it feels like the semester will never end, and then in Week 11 (this week), it suddenly feels like the semester is rushing to an end. Work is piling up for students and professors alike. Those of us who teach writing have pages upon pages of student writing to read. But the fun part... student presentations.
Years ago, I had a student standing in front of class, stuttering their way through a presentation, face turning red with embarrassment. I thought to myself in that moment, I am torturing this poor kid. I decided then that I would change the way I had students present their work. After all, there are so many ways that academics present, why not offer some of those methods to my students?
For a couple of years, I had students create conference posters. I invited other professors to come to their final presentation, see what my students were working on, and ask them questions. Another year, I had students present as panels, sitting before the class in a group, but providing their individual information and answering questions.
During COVID, and for a few classes after, I had my research writing students working on one project as an entire class. The class divided into teams at the end of the semester depending on their strengths and interests, which meant that just a few of them were speaking during the final presentation (which also included some other professors), though all were available to answer questions.
Then I hit on the method I am using now - my presentation café. This year, because of the way I have designed my research writing course, I am calling it the Presentation Market. Each group of students - my Guilds - will set up a table as a group to share their research with the class. They can use tri-fold boards, posters, handouts, or even lead the class in an activity. Whatever they choose, they will work as a group. (Also, since we meet at 8am, there will be BYO coffee and donuts, but I may bake some scones and bring them in.)
I ask my students to present their writing every semester, regardless of the way I do so. Since I ask them to present, they may wonder how often I present, or which methods I prefer.
Oddly, most of my presentations of academic work took place during COVID. Before then, I had presented at the Mid-Atlantic Writing Center Association conference, but did little else. It was during the pandemic that I found I had a lot to contribute. I presented at RECAP with my partner-in-crime Amy about our work combining the expertise of librarian and writing professor to model collaboration in the writing classroom. We are talking now about another RECAP application. I gave my presentation on the current book banning phenomenon to a local audience, for the organization Chester County Marching Forward, and a national audience, for the organization Red, Wine, and Blue, speaking about the history, the current trend, and how to combat book bans.
One week from tomorrow I am leading a roundtable at NCTE (National Council for Teachers of English Conference) on Reading and Writing for Social Change, with a focus on LGBTQ+ students. This one has me a little nervous, as it is my first roundtable, but I know it will go well. I'll be surrounded by my fellow West Chester Writing Project Teacher Leaders as part of this group session.
You may infer from all of this that presenting my words, my thoughts, is a place where I am exceptionally comfortable. To some degree, yes. I have been performing since I was six-years-old. I've performed in musicals, plays (I'm a Shakespeare fan), operas, choirs, vocal ensembles, band concerts, and marching band competitions. For ten or so years I was a model, primarily in hair shows. I am a teacher, speaking in front of people almost daily. I have even led church services - an annual poetry service, an LGBTQ+ pride service, and a service which blended the ideas of historic preservation, biology, and faith (UU churches have some really interesting services). Starting at age 13, I have spoken in front of school boards to counter book banning.
All of this indicates comfort on the stage.
However, there is significant difference between performing someone else's words, playing or singing someone else's music, speaking in front of your own community, and revealing the huge amount of work you have put into academic studies, especially if you are challenging well-established ideas or speaking on controversial subjects.
So, yes, I am experienced speaking in front of people. I get a rush from a successful performance or from seeing a student's eyes light up in that "ah-ha" moment. I will always, though, have that last-minute nervousness which comes before I step on the stage, before I teach a class for the first time, before I begin speaking about my research areas.
That nervousness is part of what makes the success feel so amazing in the end.
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Research Cartography
That's what I call it for my research writing class this semester. I designed the class to be a quest for knowledge, with a path through the land of Hysonia.