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Posts Tagged ‘Academics’

I am posting?

I have been woefully slack at creating new content for this blog. I apologize.

I’m overwhelmed with possible topics:

  • My doctoral hooding ceremony, for which my chair wore jeans and paint-covered sandals
  • The AEJMC conference I am attending that is making me feel like a James Franco-style slacker
  • The fact that tapas places don’t seem to really understand the concept of tapas
  • That chickens do indeed like the taste of chicken

And the ever popular topic

  • War, what is is good for?

My head is exploding with the possibilities. So, I’ll make it interesting and entertaining by posting images of signs and notices sent to me by my fabulous friends.

From Chad:

For your convenience, software programs offer spell check.

From Kevin:

Please experience a moment with a dictionary.

From Royce:

So is the pro shop apologizing or not? Perhaps they should apologize for mistaking the question mark key for the period.

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Well-meaning women sometimes say to me, “I just don’t know how you do it.” I could be wrong, but I think they are referring to the fact that I have a family and a full-time job, plus the completion of a doctoral degree looming over my head, yet I manage to bathe and dress myself, show up on time to all the places I need to be, and try to exhibit some sense while I’m there.

Lately, my stock answer for that well-intentioned comment is, “Well, I don’t, really.”

I’m not trying to be snarky; I just feel like I’m only barely keeping myself together. There’s some half-assery going on. Hence the extended time between posts on this blog.

And last week, I had a fetal-position moment that resolved itself only through Eddie rubbing slow circles on my back and speaking in low tones — you know, the way you speak to some rabid animal that’s gotten between you and your back door. I’m sure he wished he could consult some kind of Wife Manual.

Anyway, when I am feeling low, I like to cheer myself up with Damn You, Auto Correct! There I find treasures like this:

There now … Don’t you feel better? I know I do.

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… ‘Students and the enormous revenue they bring in to our institution are a more valued commodity to us than faculty,’ Dean James Hewitt said. ‘Although Rothberg is a distinguished, tenured professor with countless academic credentials and knowledge of 21 modern and ancient languages, there is absolutely no excuse for his boring Chad with his lectures. Chad must be entertained at all costs.’ (from ‘Professor deeply hurt by student’s evaluation‘)

Thank you to The Onion for providing this little bit of levity regarding the serious business of student evaluations. (I’ve mentioned my feelings about them before.)

Just this morning, one of my coworkers was lamenting the “age of entitlement” and mourning the death of professor respect. I’m not sure I’m in a position to really complain about narcissism, though. My activity on Facebook, Twitter and this blog is not exactly bucking the trend.

Let’s look at the concept of narcissism as defined by Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell, authors of “The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement.”

Narcissists believe they are better than others, lack emotionally warm and caring relationships, constantly seek attention, and treasure material wealth and physical appearance.

So I’ll narcissistically comment on my narcissism in my narcissistic blog: One out of the four is definitely true, and I think someone could make a case for two others, although only in specific areas.

But enough about me. What about you?

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Words of wisdom

Entertainment Weekly has a breakdown of Katie Couric’s book, “The Best Advice I Ever Got: Lessons from Extraordinary Lives.” Some lives are clearly more extraordinary than others. Let’s compare Joyce Carol Oates and Madeleine Albright with Ryan Seacrest. (On second thought, let’s not.)

Here are some select bits of advice:

Never follow anyone else’s path, unless you’re in the woods and you’re lost and you see a path; then, by all means, you should follow that path. — Ellen Degeneres

Yeah. Um. Whose path am I going to follow? What other person has degrees in English, geosciences, performing arts and journalism? I think I’m on my own here. If I could follow a career path, though, please sign me up for J.K. Rowling’s. I’m OK with the whole living-on-welfare-until-book-sells stint. Or Oprah‘s. She’s kind of awesome.

Say yes. Accept the job, agree to that meeting, catch up over a cup of coffee, lend a helping hand … You can always say no later — or so I’ve heard. — Ryan Seacrest

I have been learning how to say no. I’m not good at it. I’m overscheduled. I’m a Type A kind of gal.

So the pie isn’t perfect? Cut it into wedges … Stay in control, and never panic. — Martha Stewart

Amber, you want me in your pod. I will remain calm under pressure, think about all the possible alternatives, and examine fully the consequences. One of my mottos is “Keep calm and carry on.” (Another is “If it ain’t broke, don’t spend three days and four trips to Home Depot trying to fix it,” but that is a story for another day.)

Resist the urge to write lists, especially if the list is Pros and Cons. Just go with your gut. — Hugh Jackman

While my gut is lusting after Jackman as Wolverine, the rest of me is making to-do lists. It’s what I do.

Don’t sleep with your boss. — Chelsea Handler and Barbara Walters

This one is easy. No offense to my former bosses (OK, offense definitely meant toward one of them), but I never had the desire to do the horizontal mambo with them. Never. Ew. Especially as many of them were women. (Wonderful women, but still.) I know many of the students in my department fantasize about my current boss because he is very cerebral, does yoga, gets acupuncture, and is very much in touch with his sensitive side. Fine. I can’t look at him that way. Ew, again.

Katie Couric didn’t ask me for my advice, but I’ll share it anyway. (Don’t expect anything too fresh. Isn’t all advice recycled?)

  • Decide what you like to do, then figure out how to get paid for it. (I like to observe and report.)
  • If a big project is causing problems, break it into smaller, more manageable tasks. (How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.)
  • Write to-do lists. You’ll feel a sense of accomplishment when you mark off completed tasks. (Sorry, Hugh.)
  • Take time to do things that are unproductive but enjoyable. (All work and no play makes me a dull person.)

Uh oh. That was another list. Sorry again, Hugh!

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I attended a lecture last night by Nicholas Carr, author of “The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains.” I was very interested in what he had to say because I have written about Carr before, and I have had his book on my shelf for nearly a year.

Sadly, I’ve been too distracted to read it.

And, sadly again, that’s his point.

What he says is true: The constant barrage of information via smartphone, iPad, desktop computer, laptop, iTouch, etc., is eroding our ability to concentrate. We’re reverting to cavepeople distracted by all the sights and sounds of our environment, as opposed to the erudite focusers we became after Gutenberg invented the printing press.

One of his slides gave me great pause.

People claim they check email a couple of times per hour. Once research participants were fitted with eye-tracking paraphernalia, researchers discovered they checked email 30-40 times per hour.

Yikes.

No wonder I’m not done with my dissertation yet.

To his credit, Carr identified the many ways the Internet has improved our lives, including enhanced visual-spatial skills. And he admits to being distracted as well.

Here’s the point I’ve made before: The Internet is not going away. So what do we do to maintain and improve our ability to focus?

We turn it off. Use it sparingly. Have conversations without checking email, Twitter, Facebook, texts, etc. In Carr’s words to me in the book he signed, “Stay deep.”

I’ll be looking for a nice WiFi-disabled cave to hang out in while I finish my dissertation.

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Writing a dissertation is a marathon, not a sprint. For me, it is a marathon that also includes deviations off the path to experience some waterboarding, flaying and pillorying.

There is a special place in hell reserved for the people who devise the rules, regulations and procedures governing thesis projects and dissertations at state universities.

But enough about that. I have plenty of time to complain about the dissertation process over the next three months. Let’s talk about something fun — like words that I love.

Hobo
This is a great word I’ve managed to use twice this week. I imagine plenty of stubble, patches, and a stick holding belongings tied in a kerchief — the whole nine yards.

Raggedy
Straight up to’ up. I also like “rickety.”

Ghastly
I use it when “horrible” just won’t do.

Barf
Succinct and illustrative.

Sycophant
It says so much more than “brown-noser” or “flatterer” could. I’ve only used this once this week, but there’s still time.

Hmmm … I see a theme emerging. Must be my general mental state. See first two sentences.

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The word for the day is “meh.”

It is one of my favorite words, as students who have taken my classes will attest. I use it as an utterance in class, but also as a simple comment in the margin near a part of the submission I find less than stellar.

“Meh” beautifully conveys emotion — or rather, lack of emotion. It is a verbal shrug, a noncommittal answer, an indication of indifference.

It is the word for the day because my esteemed colleague Jonathan Rabb told me that one of our mutual students tried to use it in the narrative of a paper for his class. And then, when Jonathan balked, that person tried to justify it by citing me.

No, no, no. It can be used in a quote (“Meh,” she said). It can be used as a reaction (see above image). It can’t really be used in a narrative. It is akin to other interjections such as “Argh!” or “Rats!” (or even old-school Shaggy‘s “Zoinks!”) and has to be treated as such. Yes, even though it is now included in some dictionaries. Read this article for more on the origin and status of the word. (Note: I would put quotation marks around the word as it is used in the dictionary’s example.)

Despite its limitations, I think it is a lovely word that says so much with so little. I would like to celebrate the word by wearing this:

So, it is fair to say that I don’t feel “meh” about “meh.”

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I love this résumé on Craig’s List and I don’t care if it is real or not, or how old it is (2008). Warning: It is quite profane.

Here’s my less profane (and therefore less funny) non-work version of my résumé:

Résumé of Dubious Achievements

OBJECTIVE: Finish my freakin’ dissertation already and get my life back!

STUFF I HAVE DONE:

  • Commented on my boss’ crazy hair. (I don’t remember doing this, but he swears I did.)
  • Used “meh” to describe students’ work. Repeatedly.
  • Gone ballistic over mistakes in printed materials (much to the joy of most of the people reading this blog).
  • Chosen to watch “Jersey Shore” instead of getting much-needed sleep.
  • Cleaned my kids’ faces with my own saliva. (Vile, I know, but there it is.)
  • Watched “Tommy Boy,” Napoleon Dynamite,” “Grease” and “Pulp Fiction” many, many times (too many times to count).
  • Watched “Transformers” and “Iron Man” while pretending it was because the boys wanted to watch. (We all know how I feel about Shia LaBeouf and Robert Downey Jr.)
  • Fed my children peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.
  • Laughed at “iCarly.”
  • Planned an outfit around a necklace or pair of shoes.

MAJOR ACCOMPLISHMENTS:

  • Maintained this blog for more than a year.
  • Gotten out of bed on these recent frigid days.
  • Refrained from punching my mother-in-law.
  • Endured guest lectures that seemed interesting on paper, but were executed in the most boring, soul-sucking way possible.
  • Watched the George Clooney version of Batman. (Shudder.)
  • Pretended to be interested in Duke basketball.
  • Arranged a repair date for our recalled washer.
  • Created a brachiosaurus out of patterned paper. (Origami does not come naturally to me.)
  • Remembered to give Mona her heartworm pill this month.
  • Flossed regularly.

PROFICIENT IN:

  • Making lasagna, gyoza, potato and leek soup, and pumpkin pie.
  • Getting the boys dressed in five minutes.
  • Beating my hair into submission in about that same amount of time.
  • Butchering complex concepts in Spanish (fourth-grade level = fine).
  • Going to the gym even though I hate its guts.
  • Refusing to balance my checkbook.
  • Planning our next vacation.
  • Dreaming about winning the lottery.
  • Not wearing plaid.
  • Microsoft Office and Quark.

References available upon request.

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After reading some of the things people post on Facebook and Twitter and then having an e-mail argument with my sons’ barely literate soccer coach*, I’m even more concerned about the sad state of education in the United States.

Even John Cusack needs help.

I asked the students in my Business and Professional Writing class if they ever had to diagram a sentence. I was happy to see that most of them had, and they had done it in middle school.

Clearly some teachers are paying attention to fundamentals.

So can anyone explain this?

Or this?

I’d better not watch “Waiting for Superman” if I want to stay out of a fetal position.

 

*The apostrophe placement is correct; my sons play on the same team.

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Zumba is the devil. Zumba kicked my ass. Kicked. My. Ass.

For those of you who don’t know, Zumba is like Broadway choreography set to Latin music. Here’s an “official” definition.

Maybe the moves are “easy to follow” for the other 99.9 percent of the population, but I couldn’t even make the drill team in high school. And they didn’t have a full squad even after I tried out, if that tells you something.

Thankfully, this fellow was not my instructor.

I felt like a “Fantasia” hippo thrown in with the Rockettes.

Me

Them


















I’m not completely inept, it just takes me a while to learn choreography. Once I learn it, I won’t forget. But it is hard to learn when your life is flashing before your eyes.

There were weights involved also. And mats. And Desperate Housewives in cute workout clothes. I’m so glad my friend Keisha was there for a reality check. And to make sure I was breathing.

See the guy in the back? Kindred spirit.

I’m proud to say I made it through without blacking out. My face was Pantone 187, though.

It is the color I imagine Hell to be. Zumba, I’ll see you in Hell on Monday!

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