Monday, November 27, 2017
Harvard Citation Suggestions?
I've gotten a bit swept away between writing papers and Thanksgiving for the last few weeks, but hoping to get back to blogging regularly soon. For those of you in modules 2 and 3, what resources did you find for referencing in Harvard style? I'm having a hard time finding resources, and clearly I found ones that weren't accurate, because I got feedback about checking my bibliography. All the sources I'm finding online are contradictory to both each other and to the feedback so any suggestions are greatly appreciated.
Monday, November 6, 2017
Warning: Transition in Process
Yesterday we had our monthly skype call, and Maité offered some excellent advice--think of the AOLs as a transition to module two, she said. They're just a jumping off point. Adesola had a great analogy too, saying that the AOLs are our bridge from work to academia, and the module three artifact is our bridge from academia back to work. Then some questions about module three and the process of research made me think about transitions and processes in general.
My title above is tongue-in-cheek, but in earnest also. Lately, I've noticed myself apologizing a lot for being mid-process in life and work, as if perfection is something not only attainable but realistically attainable in the near future. Obviously it isn't! At the risk of sounding cliche, I'm trying to drum into my head that there's nothing in life that isn't a process. The AOLs lead to module two's big questions which lead to module three's specific questions which lead to different kinds of questions which lead to other areas of research ten years down the road... it doesn't stop. If I wait to be satisfied until my process is done, well, that's just never going to happen, and that's okay.
Example--when I was a senior in undergrad, I did a large senior performance project that turned out rather disappointingly. In some ways it went well; I got great feedback from the audience, a good grade, and of course I learned a lot about both my research subject and myself. In other ways, it didn't go so well. But when I finished it, I didn't really feel done. I felt like I had just completed the very beginning of a long journey and that someday I might revisit it, even though the basic conclusion of my research investigation was that the investigated thing was something that didn't work for me at ALL.
Fast forward five years later... and that thing? It's suddenly reappearing in my life! In fact, I'm finding it to be immensely helpful, which frankly I find weird, but whatever, it happens. I find it immensely satisfying as well as darkly amusing that a thing I hated so much and was so convinced would never work for me is suddenly something that is giving me a great deal of joy.
It's the same with our module questions. Instead of thinking of them all as research projects with a defined end and goal, it might be better to think of them as jumping off points, during which we bite off a tiny amount, chew it, turn it in, and then keep coming back to it over our lives. Research and life aren't ever really done, right?
My title above is tongue-in-cheek, but in earnest also. Lately, I've noticed myself apologizing a lot for being mid-process in life and work, as if perfection is something not only attainable but realistically attainable in the near future. Obviously it isn't! At the risk of sounding cliche, I'm trying to drum into my head that there's nothing in life that isn't a process. The AOLs lead to module two's big questions which lead to module three's specific questions which lead to different kinds of questions which lead to other areas of research ten years down the road... it doesn't stop. If I wait to be satisfied until my process is done, well, that's just never going to happen, and that's okay.
Example--when I was a senior in undergrad, I did a large senior performance project that turned out rather disappointingly. In some ways it went well; I got great feedback from the audience, a good grade, and of course I learned a lot about both my research subject and myself. In other ways, it didn't go so well. But when I finished it, I didn't really feel done. I felt like I had just completed the very beginning of a long journey and that someday I might revisit it, even though the basic conclusion of my research investigation was that the investigated thing was something that didn't work for me at ALL.
Fast forward five years later... and that thing? It's suddenly reappearing in my life! In fact, I'm finding it to be immensely helpful, which frankly I find weird, but whatever, it happens. I find it immensely satisfying as well as darkly amusing that a thing I hated so much and was so convinced would never work for me is suddenly something that is giving me a great deal of joy.
It's the same with our module questions. Instead of thinking of them all as research projects with a defined end and goal, it might be better to think of them as jumping off points, during which we bite off a tiny amount, chew it, turn it in, and then keep coming back to it over our lives. Research and life aren't ever really done, right?
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Teaching as Performance Art
I was writing in my journal today and wondering how people manage to teach full-time, because it is such an output of energy. I was also thinking about how uncomfortable having parents and other teachers around during class makes me, and that got me thinking about teaching as a kind of performance art. Recently, I read an internet comment from a non-dance teacher who said that she's not necessarily the same person outside of class as in, that she puts on her teacher persona and then takes it off when she leaves class. And yeah, I do that too.
Some of it is necessity. As a somewhat shy introvert who hates to be in the spotlight (well, figuratively--literal spotlights are just fine), I need to portray a calm, confident, professional front in class and be willing to speak. That is, after all, what I'm being paid for--to speak up and fix things that are going wrong.
But it's tiring, and sometimes I come in feeling rather quiet and without my "teacher face" on. The students' energy in those classes tends to be lower, which leaves me wondering, to what extent can a teacher be real with their students? Obviously, some things are not appropriate--they're students, not confidantes, professionalism is key.
Sometimes being honest feels warranted, though; perhaps an older student asks how you are after a tough week, and you say, "Well, it's been a rough week, TGIF!" or something along those lines. They're students, not dolls, and warm relationships sometimes develop. Not to mention that it's good for students to see that adults are people too, that they struggle with things, and that no one has it all together.
It also leaves me wondering about the effectiveness of various personality styles in the classroom. I'm sure we all know at least one person who's so charismatic they capture the room's attention without even trying. Some of us are just not like that though, and is it necessary to become like that? Sometimes, I think so, but always? Hm...
I'm very curious--fellow teachers, to what extent do you put on your teacher face before classes, and what kinds of situations do you take it off? And more importantly, do you feel you need one, and why?
Some of it is necessity. As a somewhat shy introvert who hates to be in the spotlight (well, figuratively--literal spotlights are just fine), I need to portray a calm, confident, professional front in class and be willing to speak. That is, after all, what I'm being paid for--to speak up and fix things that are going wrong.
But it's tiring, and sometimes I come in feeling rather quiet and without my "teacher face" on. The students' energy in those classes tends to be lower, which leaves me wondering, to what extent can a teacher be real with their students? Obviously, some things are not appropriate--they're students, not confidantes, professionalism is key.
Sometimes being honest feels warranted, though; perhaps an older student asks how you are after a tough week, and you say, "Well, it's been a rough week, TGIF!" or something along those lines. They're students, not dolls, and warm relationships sometimes develop. Not to mention that it's good for students to see that adults are people too, that they struggle with things, and that no one has it all together.
It also leaves me wondering about the effectiveness of various personality styles in the classroom. I'm sure we all know at least one person who's so charismatic they capture the room's attention without even trying. Some of us are just not like that though, and is it necessary to become like that? Sometimes, I think so, but always? Hm...
I'm very curious--fellow teachers, to what extent do you put on your teacher face before classes, and what kinds of situations do you take it off? And more importantly, do you feel you need one, and why?
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