Spring Break can mean a number of things for college students. Unsavory things, usually.
However, for the zombied-out graduate student, Spring Break is an absolutely necessary escape hatch through which a (perhaps false) sense of sanity and humanity is reached.
The three weeks leading up to this Spring Break pushed me to depths of obsessive-compulsiveness that I've never experienced before. I'd have to check the stove or electric kettle about 15 times before I can leave the room. Studying is sort of difficult when all you can think about is the fiery appliance that will be your doom.
Anyway, I managed to slap down a few midterms and flee from Flagstaff to the comforts of Kearney, Nebraska. It's a little-known Spring Break destination sporting a few decent restaurants, unpredictable weather and a boyfriend.
This trip, I really lucked out on weather. This will be sort of ironic later, but for now, consider that it was over 80 degrees every day I was in Kearney. In March, this is a surprise, even for Nebraskans. March can be blizzard, tornado or heat wave...or all of those things.
The nice weather was a blessing. A little sun-induced vitamin D does me a world of good, and lots of outdoor walking always invigorates me.
Besides several days of quality boyfriend time, I got to see my Grandparents and my brother. One of the downsides to moving away is being so far from family, especially young family who seem to grow about 6 inches every season.
So I spent my break from TESL-ing at NAU drinking gallons of coffee from Barista's, doing some light reading and writing on a term paper, and making fun of the un-muffled car sounds of Kearney.
Seriously, have you heard the noises that a pick-up can make with a few modifications? Rocket ship.
This morning, inspired by my last Barista's treat, I asked the boyfriend to check the weather in Flagstaff on his phone. I think he said something like, "winter storm warning, 8-10 inches expected." I had visions of the mountainous Interstate-17 between Phoenix and Flagstaff covered in ice and snow, and my little Mitsubishi flying like an unguided sled down the slopes. An adventure, yes, but not exactly a bus ride through rural Cambodia.
So there I was, finally on I-17, the final leg of my journey home, and the rain started to freeze. The sign about the road said "Winter Driving Conditions: 4WD or chains recommended."I had neither, but I felt that common sense could probably will me through it. Cars and trucks whizzed around my cautious 55 mph.
Not sure how exciting I can paint the next 5 hours or so--I was incredibly tense and I drove very slowly. The freezing rain changed to pure snow after Camp Verde, and the last 50 miles or so of my trip were a pure white out. If you've never had the pleasure of such conditions, Imagine a blank white canvas. Now pretend that's the view out your windshield. Where is my lane? Where are the other cars? Where is the sky? Where is the edge of the mountain road?
Petrified, but too scared to stop on the side of what I imagined was "the road" (for fear of the speedy vehicles that passed me every so often), I continued to death grip the steering wheel and follow the faintest of taillights and tire tracks.
Here's the part I don't like. Normally, I am the most over-prepared person in the room. I have two sharpened pencils, a shapener and spare eraser for any test, I always carry gum, kleenex, and chapstick just in case, and I usually have a few gallons of water and a blanket in my car for emergencies. Actually I did have a bottle of water, but that was the extent of my preparedness. I didn't even have a coat or gloves, not to mention flares, boots, or really any winter survival stuff. I wasn't planning on a foot and a half of snow greeting me after Spring Break.
When I finally arrived in Flagstaff, I got thoroughly stuck at the bottom of my driveway. Nine times.
I gave up and parked a few blocks away, out of the way of plows.
Only after I got all the way to Flagstaff did I find out that there will be no school tomorrow. Dang. The one 48 hour stretch of time when I don't check my e-mail, it's something very relevant to my safety.
Anyway, a snow day is a snow day, and I am grateful for an extra day to collect myself at altitude before taking the plunge into the rest of the semester.
This morning I was wiping some sweat off of my newly tanned brow, and this evening, I was clawing at the ice chunks that were once my windshield wiperblades.
Thanks, universe, for a wonderful and unpredictable Spring Break. Just what I needed.
March 19, 2012
February 25, 2012
Extra-credit
Very often, my expectations of glory go unmet.
Indeed, at my PEAKS conference presentation today, my expectations were unmet in terms of fabulous, ground-breaking content; yet I'm not at all disappointed.
This week, I had shamelessly self-promoted my presentation to my ENG 105 students who were hungry for the 10 point extra credit. I reminded them every day about how much I would like to see their smiling faces in my audience.
Knowing that these very small conferences often draw audiences of 0-5 people to each session, I expected a minimal turn-out for the presentation which I would give in tandem with a close friend and colleague. We were competing with a concurrent PhD panel on language policy and planning which meant that our measly first-year MA status would likely direct all potential audience members tot eh more experienced group's session.
However, our small room was soon filled (19 chairs, no less) with my students, colleagues, interested faculty and a few people I had never seen before.
What a blessing it was to see 10 of my students sitting in the front row. Presentations are a beast unto themselves in terms of nerves and anxiety. But seeing familiar faces, and faces to whom I am used to "presenting" to, in my front row helped me feel comfortable to present a paper I had written about the context of learning English in Cambodia. I bet you aren't surprised about my topic.
Anyway, my usual presentation-crackly-voice never made an appearance, and I was able to think on my feet throughout. Thanks to my students, for once in my life, I was able to deliver the material in a way that I really wanted to without the black-out adrenaline rush I usually experience.
The point of this entry, then, is to bask in the good feeling of creating some type of rapport (or at least effective bribery) that brought my students out to support me. It's some strange (insert literary term for coincidental event here) that in a presentation where I wanted to talk about the importance of knowing the context of your language learners in order to best teach them, my language learners showed up and proved to be the best part of it all.
It's clear that I'm going in the right direction. I feel inclined to thank the universe for a horribly stressful week that culminated in an unexpected show of support. It's sort of like I got the extra-credit, too. Thank you, universe.
Indeed, at my PEAKS conference presentation today, my expectations were unmet in terms of fabulous, ground-breaking content; yet I'm not at all disappointed.
This week, I had shamelessly self-promoted my presentation to my ENG 105 students who were hungry for the 10 point extra credit. I reminded them every day about how much I would like to see their smiling faces in my audience.
Knowing that these very small conferences often draw audiences of 0-5 people to each session, I expected a minimal turn-out for the presentation which I would give in tandem with a close friend and colleague. We were competing with a concurrent PhD panel on language policy and planning which meant that our measly first-year MA status would likely direct all potential audience members tot eh more experienced group's session.
However, our small room was soon filled (19 chairs, no less) with my students, colleagues, interested faculty and a few people I had never seen before.
What a blessing it was to see 10 of my students sitting in the front row. Presentations are a beast unto themselves in terms of nerves and anxiety. But seeing familiar faces, and faces to whom I am used to "presenting" to, in my front row helped me feel comfortable to present a paper I had written about the context of learning English in Cambodia. I bet you aren't surprised about my topic.
Anyway, my usual presentation-crackly-voice never made an appearance, and I was able to think on my feet throughout. Thanks to my students, for once in my life, I was able to deliver the material in a way that I really wanted to without the black-out adrenaline rush I usually experience.
The point of this entry, then, is to bask in the good feeling of creating some type of rapport (or at least effective bribery) that brought my students out to support me. It's some strange (insert literary term for coincidental event here) that in a presentation where I wanted to talk about the importance of knowing the context of your language learners in order to best teach them, my language learners showed up and proved to be the best part of it all.
It's clear that I'm going in the right direction. I feel inclined to thank the universe for a horribly stressful week that culminated in an unexpected show of support. It's sort of like I got the extra-credit, too. Thank you, universe.
February 16, 2012
A much-needed reflection on the beginning of the semester
If you thought I forgot about my my blog, you are right. My brain only has so much space, and "blog" got shoved somewhere behind "learn the English verb phrase"--Anyway, I wanted to reflect a little on how this semester is going.
To begin, the classes I am taking this semester are very different from last. I have Sociolinguistics, a rapid-fire overview of an entire discipline concerned with he intersection of language and society. We read authors like Deborah Tannen, a linguist made famous for her analysis of the conversations at a Thanksgiving dinner. We discuss topics like African American Vernacular English, code-switching, and even everyday situations in which language plays a key role.
I also have a Listening and Speaking Methodology class, which is highly practical, although I wish the class period was about three hours long so we could have more time to talk about teaching methods.
The third class I take is called "Grammatical Foundations" or something, and it is quite possibly the nerdiest thing I have ever participated in. No surprise, then, that I am quite smitten with our lectures on how to determine the aspect and tense of a verb phrase. The professor is literally world-renown for his word in Corpus Linguistics (a sub field of applied linguistics in which thousands of real-life texts and conversations are compiled into a database for analysis of real language use), and he is the wizard of grammar. What I hate about the class is that the intuitions I have come to rely upon so heavily are consistently wrong. While it can be frighteningly systematic, there is officially nothing intuitive about grammar. On the other hand, through the Grammar class, I am slowly developing a strong sense for the "rules," or least the tendencies, of the English language, which are immediately applicable in the classroom and the Writing Center.
Speaking of the classroom, I have a completely different set up this semester. I'm teaching a section of ENG 105 that is devoted entirely to students who have reached level 5 in the Program in Intensive English. I have 12 Saudi men, a few Kuwaiti students, and a handful of Chinese and Korean students. Despite being in the same level, these students have massive variation in their commands of English, which has proven to be an interesting challenge for me. Actually, I really enjoy teaching this class because it combines so many of my favorite things: writing, ESL, international students, and graduate assistantships (the last one = food and rent). My students are working on their first big project, and I am already so proud of their hard work. Of course there are difficulties with this demographic, but I will save that for another day.
Finally, this semester I have a new practicum assignment. I co-teach a class for Chinese scholars who are visiting NAU. About four Chinese professors come every Wednesday evening to what we call "English Enhancement". It's sort of a glorified conversation class, but we also demonstrate the research process, presentation techniques and even play games to relax. Although I find the additional preparation and classroom time commitment somewhat cumbersome, I think this is a valuable experience for me to get to know professionals from another country.
Speaking of cumbersome preparation, my workload this semester is INTENSE. Last semester, I thought that there was no way that I could handle any more work, but this semester I find myself constantly short on time, working on weekends, and generally rushing through everything just to keep up. I have several hours of reading and homework to prepare for each class, and I must take care of business for ENG 105, work in the Writing Center and tutor six hours a week, hold office hours, work on group projects, prepare presentations...you get the picture. It's non-stop. I wake up at 5, and crawl into bed at 10, completely exhausted. Some days feel totally rewarding, but some days it's hard to remember why exactly I want to do this to myself.
Grad school is shaping up just as I expected: high anxiety, low sleep, but awesome. I have a great group of friends, I have food and shelter, and I get to do what I love all day everyday. A good life.
By the way, I have also been going to yoga in the evenings, which if nothing else, is a full hour in which I cannot check email, grade papers, or read a research article. A welcome break and distraction from computer screens and subject-verb agreement.
To begin, the classes I am taking this semester are very different from last. I have Sociolinguistics, a rapid-fire overview of an entire discipline concerned with he intersection of language and society. We read authors like Deborah Tannen, a linguist made famous for her analysis of the conversations at a Thanksgiving dinner. We discuss topics like African American Vernacular English, code-switching, and even everyday situations in which language plays a key role.
I also have a Listening and Speaking Methodology class, which is highly practical, although I wish the class period was about three hours long so we could have more time to talk about teaching methods.
The third class I take is called "Grammatical Foundations" or something, and it is quite possibly the nerdiest thing I have ever participated in. No surprise, then, that I am quite smitten with our lectures on how to determine the aspect and tense of a verb phrase. The professor is literally world-renown for his word in Corpus Linguistics (a sub field of applied linguistics in which thousands of real-life texts and conversations are compiled into a database for analysis of real language use), and he is the wizard of grammar. What I hate about the class is that the intuitions I have come to rely upon so heavily are consistently wrong. While it can be frighteningly systematic, there is officially nothing intuitive about grammar. On the other hand, through the Grammar class, I am slowly developing a strong sense for the "rules," or least the tendencies, of the English language, which are immediately applicable in the classroom and the Writing Center.
Speaking of the classroom, I have a completely different set up this semester. I'm teaching a section of ENG 105 that is devoted entirely to students who have reached level 5 in the Program in Intensive English. I have 12 Saudi men, a few Kuwaiti students, and a handful of Chinese and Korean students. Despite being in the same level, these students have massive variation in their commands of English, which has proven to be an interesting challenge for me. Actually, I really enjoy teaching this class because it combines so many of my favorite things: writing, ESL, international students, and graduate assistantships (the last one = food and rent). My students are working on their first big project, and I am already so proud of their hard work. Of course there are difficulties with this demographic, but I will save that for another day.
Finally, this semester I have a new practicum assignment. I co-teach a class for Chinese scholars who are visiting NAU. About four Chinese professors come every Wednesday evening to what we call "English Enhancement". It's sort of a glorified conversation class, but we also demonstrate the research process, presentation techniques and even play games to relax. Although I find the additional preparation and classroom time commitment somewhat cumbersome, I think this is a valuable experience for me to get to know professionals from another country.
Speaking of cumbersome preparation, my workload this semester is INTENSE. Last semester, I thought that there was no way that I could handle any more work, but this semester I find myself constantly short on time, working on weekends, and generally rushing through everything just to keep up. I have several hours of reading and homework to prepare for each class, and I must take care of business for ENG 105, work in the Writing Center and tutor six hours a week, hold office hours, work on group projects, prepare presentations...you get the picture. It's non-stop. I wake up at 5, and crawl into bed at 10, completely exhausted. Some days feel totally rewarding, but some days it's hard to remember why exactly I want to do this to myself.
Grad school is shaping up just as I expected: high anxiety, low sleep, but awesome. I have a great group of friends, I have food and shelter, and I get to do what I love all day everyday. A good life.
By the way, I have also been going to yoga in the evenings, which if nothing else, is a full hour in which I cannot check email, grade papers, or read a research article. A welcome break and distraction from computer screens and subject-verb agreement.
January 17, 2012
Looking ahead to the new semester
For Christmas, my Opa and Oma sent me a page-a-day calendar for German learners, or at least, for those who wish to speak better German. Much as I bragged about being a TA in the beginning German class last semester, when I opened that calendar, I remembered what foreign language looks like. Reading in our native language is so natural that we hardly notice we are doing it. In a foreign language, on the other hand, each word is it's own challenge. I labored over a paragraph and immediately resolved to get better at reading German.
My progress has been minimal.
The reason I bring up foreign language reading (as if I needed a reason) is that I will being teaching Freshman composition to non-native speakers this semester. My class will be students who have made sufficient progress through an intensive English language program, and want to enter the university. Some of my friends taught this type of course last semester, and I jumped at the chance to bolster my TESL resume this semester.
Of course, the resume-bolstering doesn't happen automatically. I have to actually TEACH the course without epic failure. Furthermore, I want to love this kind of teaching. I really want to be successful with this ESL class in particular, since I've begun seriously investing in a career as ESL teacher.
I'm armed with one semester of teaching the class, horror/success stories from my friends, some budding notions of how to teach ESL, and Longman's Dictionary of Contemporary English. My Grandparents bought me the dictionary for Christmas, and I see why it's so popular among ESL teachers. So anyway, I'm armed with all this stuff. All I need now is some confidence and a few more weeks to plan. I'm in luck on at least the second half of that. My class is starting two weeks later that usual because the Intensive English program is piloting a "late-start" system to better accommodate international students during the chaotic first weeks of the semester.
I've spent lots of time mulling over the more and less effective things I tried last semester, and overlaying my growing TESL knowledge to modify my ideas for a group of language learners. It's not easy. I feel like I'm pinning the tail on the donkey (then giving him a grade). Last semester, I found the first big assignment to be the most challenging for both me and the students, so this semester, I'm trying a completely different approach. Rhetorical Analysis sounds foreign to me, so I can't even imagine what my students will make of it. I won't get too specific, bu my plan involves Pearl Jam, so you know it's going to be...90's rock? Well, it's a jumping off place to compare different rhetorical appeals in different media. There is also a newspaper article and academic journal in the plan. Brace for blank stares and deer-in-the-headlights looks.
I admire international students so much for their patience and dedication. As I remembered with my German calendar, every day presents a challenge, but if you slow down a little, you can understand at least 65% of what's going on. And that's not an F.
My progress has been minimal.
The reason I bring up foreign language reading (as if I needed a reason) is that I will being teaching Freshman composition to non-native speakers this semester. My class will be students who have made sufficient progress through an intensive English language program, and want to enter the university. Some of my friends taught this type of course last semester, and I jumped at the chance to bolster my TESL resume this semester.
Of course, the resume-bolstering doesn't happen automatically. I have to actually TEACH the course without epic failure. Furthermore, I want to love this kind of teaching. I really want to be successful with this ESL class in particular, since I've begun seriously investing in a career as ESL teacher.
I'm armed with one semester of teaching the class, horror/success stories from my friends, some budding notions of how to teach ESL, and Longman's Dictionary of Contemporary English. My Grandparents bought me the dictionary for Christmas, and I see why it's so popular among ESL teachers. So anyway, I'm armed with all this stuff. All I need now is some confidence and a few more weeks to plan. I'm in luck on at least the second half of that. My class is starting two weeks later that usual because the Intensive English program is piloting a "late-start" system to better accommodate international students during the chaotic first weeks of the semester.
I've spent lots of time mulling over the more and less effective things I tried last semester, and overlaying my growing TESL knowledge to modify my ideas for a group of language learners. It's not easy. I feel like I'm pinning the tail on the donkey (then giving him a grade). Last semester, I found the first big assignment to be the most challenging for both me and the students, so this semester, I'm trying a completely different approach. Rhetorical Analysis sounds foreign to me, so I can't even imagine what my students will make of it. I won't get too specific, bu my plan involves Pearl Jam, so you know it's going to be...90's rock? Well, it's a jumping off place to compare different rhetorical appeals in different media. There is also a newspaper article and academic journal in the plan. Brace for blank stares and deer-in-the-headlights looks.
I admire international students so much for their patience and dedication. As I remembered with my German calendar, every day presents a challenge, but if you slow down a little, you can understand at least 65% of what's going on. And that's not an F.
January 10, 2012
Blog. Because I can.
I'm back in Flagstaff. Having survived the Christmas in Nebraska portion of Winter Break, I turn now to the productive part of break in which I naively try to organize and prepare for the coming semester.
It feels like I'm on auto-pilot today. Going through familiar motions: plugging in the tea kettle, cooking oatmeal, folding clothes...
Despite (of because of?) the auto-pilot, I feel a profound emptiness. Sure, maybe it's because my roommate isn't back. The apartment is silent and the fridge is half empty. Maybe it's because I'm trying not to eat meat or much super-processed food. Since that was the basis for my diet for the last 23 years, that's enough to leave me empty any day. Perhaps it's a lack of exercise. Or intellectual work. Or even oxygen (I am in Flagstaff after all).
This emptiness I feel probably comes mostly from leaving boyfriend and family behind. Life is pretty sweet when you are surrounded by family and others who love you. Worries aren't as worrisome. Or at least someone will tell you to stop worrying. There are kitties and puppies to play with and coo at. There are cookies, cakes and ice cream to devour at will. There is a better chance of a legit meal (not just one item for dinner). There is some fullness about family that cannot be duplicated by any amount of food, stress, or online shopping. But at 24, you can't have it both ways. You can't be an independent adult and live at home. And even if you try, neither will be as good. It was hard to say goodbye to my vacation. I have trouble with goodbyes, and this time I had no major adventure awaiting my arrival. Just held mail, late bills, a car repair, and a semester that is sure to be more intense than the last.
My ability to whine really shines in this blog, doesn't it?
I'm going to go on a happy tangent. I discovered a new store today. New Frontiers, they call it. It's a "natural marketplace" that has the most incredible produce section I've ever seen. They even had those cool multi-colored carrots. Seriously. The bulk grains section was like a candy store for vegans. I helped myself to some organic quinoa. They also had two huge displays of foreign cheese (one of my favorites, and the reason I could never ever strictly follow a plant-based diet). The beauty of this store does come at a price, but it's not that much more than the grocery store, and the gorgeous fresh food will definitely encourage me to try more veggies.
So I'm empty, but I found a new store. I've got a week left to ponder life, and then it's back to the grad school vacuum. Cheers.
It feels like I'm on auto-pilot today. Going through familiar motions: plugging in the tea kettle, cooking oatmeal, folding clothes...
Despite (of because of?) the auto-pilot, I feel a profound emptiness. Sure, maybe it's because my roommate isn't back. The apartment is silent and the fridge is half empty. Maybe it's because I'm trying not to eat meat or much super-processed food. Since that was the basis for my diet for the last 23 years, that's enough to leave me empty any day. Perhaps it's a lack of exercise. Or intellectual work. Or even oxygen (I am in Flagstaff after all).
This emptiness I feel probably comes mostly from leaving boyfriend and family behind. Life is pretty sweet when you are surrounded by family and others who love you. Worries aren't as worrisome. Or at least someone will tell you to stop worrying. There are kitties and puppies to play with and coo at. There are cookies, cakes and ice cream to devour at will. There is a better chance of a legit meal (not just one item for dinner). There is some fullness about family that cannot be duplicated by any amount of food, stress, or online shopping. But at 24, you can't have it both ways. You can't be an independent adult and live at home. And even if you try, neither will be as good. It was hard to say goodbye to my vacation. I have trouble with goodbyes, and this time I had no major adventure awaiting my arrival. Just held mail, late bills, a car repair, and a semester that is sure to be more intense than the last.
My ability to whine really shines in this blog, doesn't it?
I'm going to go on a happy tangent. I discovered a new store today. New Frontiers, they call it. It's a "natural marketplace" that has the most incredible produce section I've ever seen. They even had those cool multi-colored carrots. Seriously. The bulk grains section was like a candy store for vegans. I helped myself to some organic quinoa. They also had two huge displays of foreign cheese (one of my favorites, and the reason I could never ever strictly follow a plant-based diet). The beauty of this store does come at a price, but it's not that much more than the grocery store, and the gorgeous fresh food will definitely encourage me to try more veggies.
So I'm empty, but I found a new store. I've got a week left to ponder life, and then it's back to the grad school vacuum. Cheers.
January 6, 2012
The trouble with Winter Break
Winter break is supposed to give you a
little breathing room, some time away from the intellectual vacuum of
grad school. I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to
leave TESL alone for a few weeks. I brought a few readings home so
that I could do a little prep work for teaching the ESL section of
English Composition next semester.
Not only was I able to completely file
away TESL since I left Flagstaff, but I also am experiencing a
strange homesickness for Nebraska. “The Good Life” it seems has a
particular charm that no amount of intellectual stimulation can
compete with. It has been so nice to eat with my family, watch Law
and Order, and talk about anything but TESL. I've written before
about the appeal of Nebraskan simplicity. Life moves from birth to
school to marriage to parenthood to grandparenthood almost
invariably, and there is something deeply comforting in following the
path. I suppose all my sentimental longings for Nebraska boil down to
my family and boyfriend living good lives here. But in this romanticized brain of mine, the only logical
solution appears to be quit school, move home, get married, ...wait,
nope. That's a terrible idea. Since when do I prefer the well-trodden path?
Over a few cups of Barista's (best
place in Kearney, NE) coffee, I talked this over with a former Writing
Center colleague. Since Kearney, he has begun grad school in
Riverside, California studying Political Science. California shows in
his beard, trimmed-up physique, and general neo-hippie attitudes
about the world. I can relate to the West Coast influences, as one of
my resolutions is to eat a mostly plant-based diet (note: I didn't
say vegetarian—that's a four-letter word in Nebraska). Our
conversation began with how wonderful our new residences were, and
how backward some Nebraskans can be, but as we got talking, our
conversation nearly reversed itself. Nebraska is a great place to be
from, we agreed, and we are much better prepared for the world
because of our corn-fed roots. Although we plan to change the world
(albeit in small ways), I think in our hearts we can't help but stay
Nebraskan.
Even beyond my longing for my hometown,
I remembered how untamed Nebraska can be. My boyfriend's family owns
some land outside North Platte, NE. This isn't the typical Nebraskan
landscape either. Nope, no cornfields in sight, and instead
canyon-like formations with deep draws and well-worn cattle trails.
If you've been following this blog for any length of time, you
already know that I have the desire for adventure, but maybe not the
courage (or proper footwear) to rough-it. Under the guise that hiking
his parents' land would be no harder than the local park, I agreed to
accompany him and his dad. As we bounced along the frozen mud in the
pick-up, I realized that maybe I was in for something more
challenging. Indeed, about two hours later, I found myself stuck
halfway up the side of one of these mini limestone canyons, clinging
to a tree trunk. Don't get me wrong, I love an adventure,
especially when there is an element of danger (mountain lion,
darkness, ice, ect.) involved, but I want a hot meal and shower when
I get home—which is exactly what my boyfriend's mom cooked up!
I'm not too sure what that last
anecdote had to do with my sudden longing for Nebraska. If it's adventure I seek, Flagstaff has
some of the best hiking in the world. Spending time with my boyfriend
and his family may have had more to do with my enjoyment than the icy
draws we slid down.
So besides a break from the world of Applied Linguistics, winter break has reminded me of what I'm missing
in Flagstaff. Family. My one-track (TESL) mind seems to sometimes forget how
important these people are. I have been envisioning my
career as an ESL teacher taking me around the world to faraway places
with exotic food and low GDP's. During this winter break, I've
started to wonder if the lifestyle of a wanderer can satisfy my need
for family. Will I miss out on my brother growing up? What about my
Grandparents? What am I giving up if I go? What about if I don't go?
I know that no job is forever and that
things work out, no matter what I decide to do, but the decisions
about work and life that I will have to make within the next two
years are starting to seem more real than ever. Never mind a break
from books and articles, this is just a way to make me second guess
everything! Thanks, winter break.
December 26, 2011
Thoughts on Christmas
I don’t remember the point when I stopped looking forward to Barbies and CDs under the tree. Now I hope for cashmere and little green notes to help me cover the Health and Recreation fees at school.
The holidays are different once you leave home. Especially when you leave home and have a “life” somewhere else. For me, coming back to Lincoln was particularly bizarre this year. I left my whirlwind of linguistics and language for a few weeks of good old Nebraska. My family puts on an epic party every year, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world—although maybe for plane tickets to Thailand (sorry Mom!). This year, the party was on the 23rd, that’s the day before Christmas Eve and the day after my Mom’s birthday. Three party days in a row is a lot for this grad student.
For my Mom’s birthday, my cousin picked me up to go downtown and have lunch with our mothers. My cousin, who I may always picture as a 10-year-old, is now about 6’4” and 270 lbs. He just finished his first semester of college and we suddenly had a lot in common. When did that happen?
It was also on my Mom’s birthday that I gained a lot of respect for my own body. I had to have a blood test done at the doctor, and I forgot that I should lie down during the blood draw. I survived the poke, the eternity of the draw, and the put-your-finger-on-the-cotton-ball, but after that, it’s all a blur. I came to slumped way down in the chair, with three nurses holding on to me. I put the pieces together to realize that this was not a bad dream and that I had actually passed out. It’s a special condition they told me. Something about the veins in my head contracting so much that I don’t get enough oxygen. Lot s of people have it. It’s always the big guys that pass out on us. Nothing to be ashamed of. Drink this orange juice.
I threw up the orange juice, much to the dismay of the lab tech. My blood pressure hovered around 70 for a little while as I did my best to stay awake. They put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me back to the exam room. The doctor chuckled at me and we joked that passing out was worse than the symptom I was trying to treat!
I regained most of my color and tried to fake some dignity on my way out.
Amazing how resilient the human body is. Unconscious one minute, paying a bill the next. If only my bank account were so self-healing.
Besides my medical misadventures (I’m fine, by the way, nothing a few days of medicine couldn’t fix), it was an eventful few days. The Griesel Christmas Party has reached legend stage. My parents invite over a hundred people, and most of them show up and bring friends. My Mom bakes about 500 cookies in the months before the party, and my Dad cooks up ham shanks and sauerkraut and grilled brats for everyone.
We hire someone to help in the kitchen during the party, we have two bartenders serving guests, and we have had hired babysitters and piano players in the past. Part of me feels like hiring people to work at your party is too bourgeoisie, but actually, it’s much better for the Griesels, because we can enjoy the party ourselves and we don’t have to spend the whole night pouring drinks.
While I know many of the guests, there are at least 50% that I either don’t know or can’t recognize from the last party. The deck is somewhat stacked against me, since everyone knows my parents and therefore knows that I am the daughter. Most of those people even know my name, so they rush over and greet me, and I frankly have no idea who they are. I have fish for clues or ask them straight up for names. I once asked a couple “So, how do you know my parents?” When they said, “We are your neighbors”, you can imagine the embarrassment.
This year, having started a new phase in Flagstaff, I had a good excuse for not knowing the neighbors. I also had a much better outlook on life than last year, and a more certain feeling than two years ago (it was about 2 weeks before I left for Cambodia). Telling people about grad school and Flagstaff felt good. I feel like I’m hitting my stride right now. I have a job that pays my bills, I’m studying something I‘m interested in, and I have some idea of what’s coming up in the next several years. Especially the parents of my brother’s basketball team seem to appreciate my struggles and successes. They also tell me how much my little bro misses me when I’m gone. That is a good Christmas present.
When I was little, Christmas was all about the cookies, the presents and the unwrapping. Now that I’m doing some of the wrapping, paying the Christmas credit card bills, and watching what I eat, Christmas has a new meaning. At the risk of sounding very Dr. Suess circa How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Christmas does mean something more. I’ve never appreciated eating breakfast with my family like I do now. I’ve never seen a more beautiful Christmas tree, or wanted to cry so fiercely during silent night at church.
This newfound reverence probably comes from life experience and possibly some latent homesickness. Whatever the cause, it couldn’t come at a better time. The holidays should be about appreciating our families, our health, and the hard work we put in during the year. Cashmere and cake balls are good ways to show appreciation.
Merry Christmas.
The holidays are different once you leave home. Especially when you leave home and have a “life” somewhere else. For me, coming back to Lincoln was particularly bizarre this year. I left my whirlwind of linguistics and language for a few weeks of good old Nebraska. My family puts on an epic party every year, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world—although maybe for plane tickets to Thailand (sorry Mom!). This year, the party was on the 23rd, that’s the day before Christmas Eve and the day after my Mom’s birthday. Three party days in a row is a lot for this grad student.
For my Mom’s birthday, my cousin picked me up to go downtown and have lunch with our mothers. My cousin, who I may always picture as a 10-year-old, is now about 6’4” and 270 lbs. He just finished his first semester of college and we suddenly had a lot in common. When did that happen?
It was also on my Mom’s birthday that I gained a lot of respect for my own body. I had to have a blood test done at the doctor, and I forgot that I should lie down during the blood draw. I survived the poke, the eternity of the draw, and the put-your-finger-on-the-cotton-ball, but after that, it’s all a blur. I came to slumped way down in the chair, with three nurses holding on to me. I put the pieces together to realize that this was not a bad dream and that I had actually passed out. It’s a special condition they told me. Something about the veins in my head contracting so much that I don’t get enough oxygen. Lot s of people have it. It’s always the big guys that pass out on us. Nothing to be ashamed of. Drink this orange juice.
I threw up the orange juice, much to the dismay of the lab tech. My blood pressure hovered around 70 for a little while as I did my best to stay awake. They put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me back to the exam room. The doctor chuckled at me and we joked that passing out was worse than the symptom I was trying to treat!
I regained most of my color and tried to fake some dignity on my way out.
Amazing how resilient the human body is. Unconscious one minute, paying a bill the next. If only my bank account were so self-healing.
Besides my medical misadventures (I’m fine, by the way, nothing a few days of medicine couldn’t fix), it was an eventful few days. The Griesel Christmas Party has reached legend stage. My parents invite over a hundred people, and most of them show up and bring friends. My Mom bakes about 500 cookies in the months before the party, and my Dad cooks up ham shanks and sauerkraut and grilled brats for everyone.
We hire someone to help in the kitchen during the party, we have two bartenders serving guests, and we have had hired babysitters and piano players in the past. Part of me feels like hiring people to work at your party is too bourgeoisie, but actually, it’s much better for the Griesels, because we can enjoy the party ourselves and we don’t have to spend the whole night pouring drinks.
While I know many of the guests, there are at least 50% that I either don’t know or can’t recognize from the last party. The deck is somewhat stacked against me, since everyone knows my parents and therefore knows that I am the daughter. Most of those people even know my name, so they rush over and greet me, and I frankly have no idea who they are. I have fish for clues or ask them straight up for names. I once asked a couple “So, how do you know my parents?” When they said, “We are your neighbors”, you can imagine the embarrassment.
This year, having started a new phase in Flagstaff, I had a good excuse for not knowing the neighbors. I also had a much better outlook on life than last year, and a more certain feeling than two years ago (it was about 2 weeks before I left for Cambodia). Telling people about grad school and Flagstaff felt good. I feel like I’m hitting my stride right now. I have a job that pays my bills, I’m studying something I‘m interested in, and I have some idea of what’s coming up in the next several years. Especially the parents of my brother’s basketball team seem to appreciate my struggles and successes. They also tell me how much my little bro misses me when I’m gone. That is a good Christmas present.
When I was little, Christmas was all about the cookies, the presents and the unwrapping. Now that I’m doing some of the wrapping, paying the Christmas credit card bills, and watching what I eat, Christmas has a new meaning. At the risk of sounding very Dr. Suess circa How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Christmas does mean something more. I’ve never appreciated eating breakfast with my family like I do now. I’ve never seen a more beautiful Christmas tree, or wanted to cry so fiercely during silent night at church.
This newfound reverence probably comes from life experience and possibly some latent homesickness. Whatever the cause, it couldn’t come at a better time. The holidays should be about appreciating our families, our health, and the hard work we put in during the year. Cashmere and cake balls are good ways to show appreciation.
Merry Christmas.
December 16, 2011
One down and three to go!
I survived my first semester of grad school. I haven't seen my grades yet, but barring any major snafu in my final exams, I think I will be pretty proud of myself.
Flagstaff was an unexpected gem of the decision to come to NAU. For about six months of the year, the weather is outstanding. For the other six, or at least the part I've so far experienced, you better have snow-boots. Actually I saw a woman walking her dog on cross-country skies yesterday. That kind of bold spirit characterized this town as the pot-smoking-vegan-cowboy-environmentalist town that it is. If it isn't organic,made by Patagonia, or if you can't spend the week rock climbing it's caverns, it isn't good enough for Flagstaff.
Granted, I'm not exactly a Flagstaffer yet. I appreciate the concern for the environment and the healthier diets, but sometimes the hippie stuff is too much.
Moving on, my cohort of MA-TESL students is incredible. I've made some really good friends. Since we all share the daunting experience of being first-year graduate students, I think we bond on fear and anxiety. Those bonds go deep. It's a good thing to bond with your cohort, because they will be your biggest support. In an graduate program with both PhD and MA options, the MAs get run through as quickly and painlessly as possible. On the other hand, The PhDs go through an arduous screening-in process to become candidates. I didn't realize how political graduate school can be, but having shared an office with two PhD students, I sure got an ear-full.
TESL itself was a good choice for me. I feel like I am able to invest a lot of myself into the assignments because of my own experiences learning language, and my experiences in Cambodia. Especially for my term paper about attitudes toward English in Cambodia, I had put my heart into researching and writing, so it was a great validation to get an A. I spent yesterday morning discussing that paper with a friend who wrote about refugees learning English. We are going to present our papers together at a small conference in February. It was rewarding to talk with her about something that I was so proud of, and to feel like maybe I know what I'm talking about. It's the first of four semesters, but if I keep expanding my knowledge at this rate, I think I will need a bigger skull.
I also turned in grades yesterday for my ENG 105 class. What an experience. Teaching composition is one thing, but being a teacher is quite another. I had a few students cry during the semester, another disappeared, and some just never quite knew what to do. I have so much admiration for teachers. This profession goes so deep. You are the presenter of materials, the grader of assignments, the counselor, the motivational speaker, and, in a way, the decider of futures. Next semester, I'm signed up to teach a special section of 105 designated for international students who are at a high level in the Program of Intensive English at NAU. Two of my good friends taught this section this semester, and are going to do it again in January, so at least I won't be alone.
Grad school is an intense experience. It reminds me of studying abroad in a way. When I was in Austria, I felt like I was trying to eat, sleep, and breathe German language. Now, I am eating, sleeping, and breathing English. I wake up at 6 and start thinking about plans for the day. By 7 or 8, I'm checking emails from my students, by 9 I'm tutoring, going to class, doing homework, teaching, updating grades, commenting on papers etc, then at 10 PM, I crawl into bed. That's when I do mental lesson plans for the next day. Luckily, about half-way through the semester, I stopped dreaming about school.
It's kind of exhilarating to be that immersed in something, but at the same time, wow, do I need a break. I miss my family and my boyfriend. I miss my kitties and I miss the flat horizon of Nebraska. I miss thinking about things besides English. Just give me three weeks away from the ponderosas and the mountains and I will be fine.
Get ready, Nebraska.
Flagstaff was an unexpected gem of the decision to come to NAU. For about six months of the year, the weather is outstanding. For the other six, or at least the part I've so far experienced, you better have snow-boots. Actually I saw a woman walking her dog on cross-country skies yesterday. That kind of bold spirit characterized this town as the pot-smoking-vegan-cowboy-environmentalist town that it is. If it isn't organic,made by Patagonia, or if you can't spend the week rock climbing it's caverns, it isn't good enough for Flagstaff.
Granted, I'm not exactly a Flagstaffer yet. I appreciate the concern for the environment and the healthier diets, but sometimes the hippie stuff is too much.
Moving on, my cohort of MA-TESL students is incredible. I've made some really good friends. Since we all share the daunting experience of being first-year graduate students, I think we bond on fear and anxiety. Those bonds go deep. It's a good thing to bond with your cohort, because they will be your biggest support. In an graduate program with both PhD and MA options, the MAs get run through as quickly and painlessly as possible. On the other hand, The PhDs go through an arduous screening-in process to become candidates. I didn't realize how political graduate school can be, but having shared an office with two PhD students, I sure got an ear-full.
TESL itself was a good choice for me. I feel like I am able to invest a lot of myself into the assignments because of my own experiences learning language, and my experiences in Cambodia. Especially for my term paper about attitudes toward English in Cambodia, I had put my heart into researching and writing, so it was a great validation to get an A. I spent yesterday morning discussing that paper with a friend who wrote about refugees learning English. We are going to present our papers together at a small conference in February. It was rewarding to talk with her about something that I was so proud of, and to feel like maybe I know what I'm talking about. It's the first of four semesters, but if I keep expanding my knowledge at this rate, I think I will need a bigger skull.
I also turned in grades yesterday for my ENG 105 class. What an experience. Teaching composition is one thing, but being a teacher is quite another. I had a few students cry during the semester, another disappeared, and some just never quite knew what to do. I have so much admiration for teachers. This profession goes so deep. You are the presenter of materials, the grader of assignments, the counselor, the motivational speaker, and, in a way, the decider of futures. Next semester, I'm signed up to teach a special section of 105 designated for international students who are at a high level in the Program of Intensive English at NAU. Two of my good friends taught this section this semester, and are going to do it again in January, so at least I won't be alone.
Grad school is an intense experience. It reminds me of studying abroad in a way. When I was in Austria, I felt like I was trying to eat, sleep, and breathe German language. Now, I am eating, sleeping, and breathing English. I wake up at 6 and start thinking about plans for the day. By 7 or 8, I'm checking emails from my students, by 9 I'm tutoring, going to class, doing homework, teaching, updating grades, commenting on papers etc, then at 10 PM, I crawl into bed. That's when I do mental lesson plans for the next day. Luckily, about half-way through the semester, I stopped dreaming about school.
It's kind of exhilarating to be that immersed in something, but at the same time, wow, do I need a break. I miss my family and my boyfriend. I miss my kitties and I miss the flat horizon of Nebraska. I miss thinking about things besides English. Just give me three weeks away from the ponderosas and the mountains and I will be fine.
Get ready, Nebraska.
November 27, 2011
Thanksgiving on a Card Table
Although my cooking generally teeters on the edge of barely edible mush laced with cayenne pepper, I stubbornly resigned to cook the entire meal: turkey, trimmings and pumpkin pie. I recruited Grandma Moore's recipes, lots of advice, and lots of butter.
My boyfriend did the grunt work on the mashed potatoes and the dressing, and I implanted butter under the turkey's skin, baked the pies, and made green bean casserole. We declared the feast a victory over small kitchen, inadequate utensils and general lack of experience in feast-cooking.
The card table in my living room has a weight limit that was thoroughly tested by our spread of food enough for 7-10 adults (we were only two). In a symbolic joining of Thanksgiving and Flagstaff, my steel water bottle was a testament to saving the environment; unning the dishwasher twice in one day, on the other hand, was a nod to America, the land of "infinite" natural resources.
My boyfriend and I agreed that Thanksgiving didn't feel like the real thing without our families, but that we liked the turkey and pumpkin pie just fine anyway. I suppose this Thanksgiving marks some newfound independence or culinary conquest, but I'm still looking forward to spending Christmas in Lincoln. I'm not a grown-up yet.
Counting the Informations
So as I was three-hole punching a thick stack of research articles I was supposed to read over the weekend, I began to wonder what the point of all this printing is.
Seriously. I have an enormous three-ring binder in which to bind all of my three-hole punched papers. I've read these papers, marked them with four different colors of pen, and pretty much forgotten all of the material already.
I have visions of myself one day opening this notebook for inspiration as I sit at my desk in Budapest, or Mandalay, or Tunis. Ah yes, back in ENG 548, we did talk about Content-Based Instruction--that's just what I need!
In reality, that notebook will likely gather dust in some plastic bin for all eternity.
The readings (which will likely be totally out of date in 3 years anyway) aside, I bought possibly the least practical teaching materials ever created. Okay fine, the least practical item to take along on an international flight to destination TBA: 500 laminated words with magnets that were hand cut out and assembled by my boyfriend and me after Thanksgiving dinner. The words themselves could potentially be a fun and useful classroom activity, but 500 magnets really increase the volume of that paper! I settled on a satisfactory method of organization that would no doubt make Martha Stewart cringe. I painstakingly grouped similar words together in stacks of about 10, fastened them with binder clips, and then sorted the stacks into 10 poly material button and string closure envelopes. It was a tedious process to say the least. Now I have a cubic foot of any future suitcase or desk drawer already spoken for. Let's hope they are useful.
Anyway, I think the underlying issue I want to write about is: how am I supposed to bring all of this information with me? My little brain is already on overload, and I haven't even finished my first semester.
I definitely need a stellar method of organization. Something better than poly envelopes and binder clips.
Seriously. I have an enormous three-ring binder in which to bind all of my three-hole punched papers. I've read these papers, marked them with four different colors of pen, and pretty much forgotten all of the material already.
I have visions of myself one day opening this notebook for inspiration as I sit at my desk in Budapest, or Mandalay, or Tunis. Ah yes, back in ENG 548, we did talk about Content-Based Instruction--that's just what I need!
In reality, that notebook will likely gather dust in some plastic bin for all eternity.
The readings (which will likely be totally out of date in 3 years anyway) aside, I bought possibly the least practical teaching materials ever created. Okay fine, the least practical item to take along on an international flight to destination TBA: 500 laminated words with magnets that were hand cut out and assembled by my boyfriend and me after Thanksgiving dinner. The words themselves could potentially be a fun and useful classroom activity, but 500 magnets really increase the volume of that paper! I settled on a satisfactory method of organization that would no doubt make Martha Stewart cringe. I painstakingly grouped similar words together in stacks of about 10, fastened them with binder clips, and then sorted the stacks into 10 poly material button and string closure envelopes. It was a tedious process to say the least. Now I have a cubic foot of any future suitcase or desk drawer already spoken for. Let's hope they are useful.
Anyway, I think the underlying issue I want to write about is: how am I supposed to bring all of this information with me? My little brain is already on overload, and I haven't even finished my first semester.
I definitely need a stellar method of organization. Something better than poly envelopes and binder clips.
November 15, 2011
Just PRINT (Gonna be okay...any Gaga fans?)
I'm never sure why the blogging muse strike when it does, but here I am. I just did a victory dance after printing off my first graduate term paper. The topic was Foreign Language Anxiety, and foreign language or not, I'm an anxious person, and I think that topic (plus the mountain of other work) just fueled my fire. I made a commitment on Facebook to choose a topic like ESL Zen or Positive Psychology next semester, but my natural inclinations always take me to such dark places! My other paper this semester is about Cambodia's recovery from the Khmer Rouge (and the influence of English as a new beginning). Genocide, Holocaust, HIV/AIDS, Anxiety, etc....what is my problem with selecting a not-so-depressing topic?
Anyway, my general anxiety hit an apex today sometime between realizing that I can't please everyone all the time and flicking an enormous spider off of my sweatpants (and then crushing him to a bloody pulp). Luckily I have a stellar boyfriend who is just a phone call away, plenty of jasmine tea, and a new album--Florence and the Machine's "The Ceremonials". Good stuff. Helps me relax.
I think my experience with anxiety today helped me just push print tonight. It's a hard thing for me. I want everything to be perfect, even though I know that at some point, I've met my limit. It's kind of exhilarating to hold 18 pages of pieces of paper in your hand and know that your blood (paper cuts), sweat (riding a bike to my office), and tears (self-explanatory) went into creating that masterpiece (or total hot mess--fine lines here).
If you haven't ever, I suggest busting a move after you print a paper; it's a pretty spectacular way to celebrate.
Anyway, my general anxiety hit an apex today sometime between realizing that I can't please everyone all the time and flicking an enormous spider off of my sweatpants (and then crushing him to a bloody pulp). Luckily I have a stellar boyfriend who is just a phone call away, plenty of jasmine tea, and a new album--Florence and the Machine's "The Ceremonials". Good stuff. Helps me relax.
I think my experience with anxiety today helped me just push print tonight. It's a hard thing for me. I want everything to be perfect, even though I know that at some point, I've met my limit. It's kind of exhilarating to hold 18 pages of pieces of paper in your hand and know that your blood (paper cuts), sweat (riding a bike to my office), and tears (self-explanatory) went into creating that masterpiece (or total hot mess--fine lines here).
If you haven't ever, I suggest busting a move after you print a paper; it's a pretty spectacular way to celebrate.
October 31, 2011
More good advice
Grad school seems like a hibernation of sorts. A time period in which I have given up my right to a life outside of TESL. Two years of hard-core studying, after which some new segment of my life will begin.
This paradigm is problematic.
In my professional development seminar, a counselor who specializes in grad student issues gave us a reminder that school isn't everything.
It's not about what happens after this time period. It's not about waiting for grad school to be over to let your life "begin".
This is your life, she said. Right here. Right now. Don't let grad school block that out. Flagstaff is an awesome place to live. Take advantage of it!
Ever a sucker for a profound thought, I think this advice is important. It's so easy to devote yourself to school, and to get caught up in the semester projects that seem to divide your life into neat little sections.
The Killers have a song called "This is Your Life" that carries a similar meaning to that of the counselor. If you read my blog regularly, I guess you already know that The Killers have a song for every occasion.
Anyway, I just wanted to put out a good thought today.
This paradigm is problematic.
In my professional development seminar, a counselor who specializes in grad student issues gave us a reminder that school isn't everything.
It's not about what happens after this time period. It's not about waiting for grad school to be over to let your life "begin".
This is your life, she said. Right here. Right now. Don't let grad school block that out. Flagstaff is an awesome place to live. Take advantage of it!
Ever a sucker for a profound thought, I think this advice is important. It's so easy to devote yourself to school, and to get caught up in the semester projects that seem to divide your life into neat little sections.
The Killers have a song called "This is Your Life" that carries a similar meaning to that of the counselor. If you read my blog regularly, I guess you already know that The Killers have a song for every occasion.
Anyway, I just wanted to put out a good thought today.
October 16, 2011
A dose of my own medicine.
I got some good advice today.
It was from a stranger and it kind of hurt my feelings, but I think it was good advice. The young American girl with the killer German pronunciation said to me, in English: Don't introduce anything that you are about to do as bad. Just let it speak for itself.
This stranger and I met because we were both attending Oktoberfest as non-German majors. We were waiting for the professor to come back, and we had been speaking German. My German comes and goes. And it was particularly halting today during our conversation. The words felt funny in my mouth, and so I apologized for my unintelligble speech. That's when she switched the conversation to English, and gave the advice. As my ego crumbled, I realized that I always tell other people exactly what she just told me, but I am so often guilty of selling myself short before I even have a chance.
She is wise for a seventeen-year-old who spent a year in Berlin learning to speak some of the best German I've ever heard an American speak. Later she confided that she wished she could just call herself "German" because, having spent a formative year in Deutschland, she felt somehow "German". My advice to her was just go for it. Tell people that you are German and see what happens. This was not advice in a serious sense, but in a party trick sense. She liked it. I think this is an identity crisis that every devoted language learner/study abroader encounters at some point, and role-playing when you meet new people is a lot of fun. I've definitely pretended to be a Scandinavian foregin exchange student before--which works a lot better if real Scandinavation excahgne students aren't around to call my bluff...
I'm tempted to write about the mess of theories that explain what I experienced today as a language learner, but I am not up for self-punishment at the moment.
To conclude, I would like to thank the universe for introducing me to a wise stranger who gave me a much-needed dose of my own medicine.
It was from a stranger and it kind of hurt my feelings, but I think it was good advice. The young American girl with the killer German pronunciation said to me, in English: Don't introduce anything that you are about to do as bad. Just let it speak for itself.
This stranger and I met because we were both attending Oktoberfest as non-German majors. We were waiting for the professor to come back, and we had been speaking German. My German comes and goes. And it was particularly halting today during our conversation. The words felt funny in my mouth, and so I apologized for my unintelligble speech. That's when she switched the conversation to English, and gave the advice. As my ego crumbled, I realized that I always tell other people exactly what she just told me, but I am so often guilty of selling myself short before I even have a chance.
She is wise for a seventeen-year-old who spent a year in Berlin learning to speak some of the best German I've ever heard an American speak. Later she confided that she wished she could just call herself "German" because, having spent a formative year in Deutschland, she felt somehow "German". My advice to her was just go for it. Tell people that you are German and see what happens. This was not advice in a serious sense, but in a party trick sense. She liked it. I think this is an identity crisis that every devoted language learner/study abroader encounters at some point, and role-playing when you meet new people is a lot of fun. I've definitely pretended to be a Scandinavian foregin exchange student before--which works a lot better if real Scandinavation excahgne students aren't around to call my bluff...
I'm tempted to write about the mess of theories that explain what I experienced today as a language learner, but I am not up for self-punishment at the moment.
To conclude, I would like to thank the universe for introducing me to a wise stranger who gave me a much-needed dose of my own medicine.
October 9, 2011
AZ-TESOL Conference in Prescott Valley
Academic conferences are important for professional development, and they are also fun. My friends/colleauges from NAU and I attended AZ-TESOL (Arizona chapter of Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) in Prescott Valley, Arizona. It was a smaller turnout than I expected, but I got to spend time talking with people from my classes who I hadn't had time to get to know.
The sessions ranged from textbook sales reps to highly interactive activities to use with students. I enjoyed watching some of my new friends present research on best practices in the classroom. It was nice to see people's real passions, and not the day-to-day stuff that we are often bogged down with. I also invested in some wonderful ESL materials from a session about teaching lower level ESL. I decided to invest a little in these fabulous laminated cards that have words color-coded by part of speech. The cards have magnents, so they will stick on newer white boards, filing cabinets or other metal objects. The cards are great because they are easy to read, the students and I can move them around, and the color-coding helps students associate words within a category. I'm trying to figure out a way to use them in my freshman composition class becuase I'm just so excited about them.
My excitment level about some laminated cards should tell you a lot about my life right now. Focused. School is on my brain non-stop, and I like it. I had a great time at the conference because I went with friends, and we had been awarded enough travel money to cover much of our costs, and we had a little time to just relax and enjoy our intellectual selves.
This post is sort of boring. I'm sorry about that. I don't have much to complain about! The funniest part was in-car dancing to Gaga's "Born the Way" at about 6:20 AM on Friday. I also enjoyed our random detour to the Dewey-Humbolt Pumpkin Festival on the way home this evening. County Fair, anyone? The best food was a tie between our dinner out at the Tajmahal restaurant and the home cooking of my Turkish colleague (yes, practically tailgated at the conference with a cooler, paper plates and everything).
Yet more reassurance that I might be on the right track (thanks Gaga). Perhaps I was born this way?
The sessions ranged from textbook sales reps to highly interactive activities to use with students. I enjoyed watching some of my new friends present research on best practices in the classroom. It was nice to see people's real passions, and not the day-to-day stuff that we are often bogged down with. I also invested in some wonderful ESL materials from a session about teaching lower level ESL. I decided to invest a little in these fabulous laminated cards that have words color-coded by part of speech. The cards have magnents, so they will stick on newer white boards, filing cabinets or other metal objects. The cards are great because they are easy to read, the students and I can move them around, and the color-coding helps students associate words within a category. I'm trying to figure out a way to use them in my freshman composition class becuase I'm just so excited about them.
My excitment level about some laminated cards should tell you a lot about my life right now. Focused. School is on my brain non-stop, and I like it. I had a great time at the conference because I went with friends, and we had been awarded enough travel money to cover much of our costs, and we had a little time to just relax and enjoy our intellectual selves.
This post is sort of boring. I'm sorry about that. I don't have much to complain about! The funniest part was in-car dancing to Gaga's "Born the Way" at about 6:20 AM on Friday. I also enjoyed our random detour to the Dewey-Humbolt Pumpkin Festival on the way home this evening. County Fair, anyone? The best food was a tie between our dinner out at the Tajmahal restaurant and the home cooking of my Turkish colleague (yes, practically tailgated at the conference with a cooler, paper plates and everything).
Yet more reassurance that I might be on the right track (thanks Gaga). Perhaps I was born this way?
October 2, 2011
Overdue fun-making of Flagstaff, but also of myself.
A Personal Essay from Flagstaff:
Flag is, like, one of the least pretentious cities in the world. Seriously, I'm from SoCal, so I know about pretentious.
I decided that I would use the water I was saving by not washing my hair to water my raised garden. I'm growing my own alfalfa sprouts. My hair looks really cool now that the back is dreadlocks. I cut really short bangs in the front. They make my eyebrow piercings stand out. A lot of people have their noses pierced, but that looks so lame. I got some glasses from the thrift store. They're from, like, the 1960's or whatever, so they look really vintage.
By the way, I almost lost a Birkenstock while I was riding my bike to Macy's after my hike. This Subaru just came out of nowhere when I stopped in the middle of the intersection to get my dog's leash out of the bike chain. When I got to Macy's, my dog was super tired, so I ordered him an iced coffee. He kept barking at the other dogs and at the customers, but I didn't really care. He's a dog, so he's going to bark or whatever. I took out my MacBook Pro and did some homework for my sustainable communities class, but I had to check Facebook, too, so I didn't get my homework done. Then I was hungry, so I totally ordered the veggie sandwich because it's, like, so rude to eat animals or whatever.
Then I thought that some girl from Nebraska was calling me pretentious, but I couldn't really tell because my dog was barking so loudly.
Okay, so I've been dying to write about some of the ridiculous stuff in Flagstaff. The official name for this phenomenon is "culture shock". It's in one of my textbooks on page 195. In this stage, I'm feeling intruded upon by the host culture, and I seek solace in people who are similar to me and I take comfort in complaining about the host culture--hence my essay.
When I'm not making fun of the people of Flagstaff (I wear Birks, I ride a bike that gets stuff caught in the chain, I go to Macy's, and I check Facebook), I am loving life here. Grad school is is high gear and I'm learning so much about learning that I can't help but be a better student. Learn how to read textbooks, Jena, or else you will get a 60% on the quiz. Yep, welcome to graduate school. I'm learning about phonetics and phonology, and about communicative language teaching and the critical period hypothesis. The phonetic symbols have finally worked their way into my dreams, as have the assignments I give to my ENG 105 class. Somehow this stuff has permeated into my deeper consciousness. Terrifying.
I'm writing two papers at the moment. One on World English in Cambodia, and the other on Language Anxiety in the Foreign Language Classroom. Speaking of anxiety and pretense...Actually, grad school isn't as bad as I thought. Although, I'm glad it isn't as bad as I thought because I would definitely be in tears if I had anything else on my plate at the moment.
I've made some friends, thank goodness, who look out for me and tell me to go home when I've been chained to my office chair all afternoon. I do fun stuff occasionally, like unpretentiously hike on mountains.
So I hope that is enough of an update to say that I'm still alive, I love what I'm doing, and I'm still able to pick apart a host culture like it's my job.
Keep it real, Flagstaff. And wash your hair.
Flag is, like, one of the least pretentious cities in the world. Seriously, I'm from SoCal, so I know about pretentious.
I decided that I would use the water I was saving by not washing my hair to water my raised garden. I'm growing my own alfalfa sprouts. My hair looks really cool now that the back is dreadlocks. I cut really short bangs in the front. They make my eyebrow piercings stand out. A lot of people have their noses pierced, but that looks so lame. I got some glasses from the thrift store. They're from, like, the 1960's or whatever, so they look really vintage.
By the way, I almost lost a Birkenstock while I was riding my bike to Macy's after my hike. This Subaru just came out of nowhere when I stopped in the middle of the intersection to get my dog's leash out of the bike chain. When I got to Macy's, my dog was super tired, so I ordered him an iced coffee. He kept barking at the other dogs and at the customers, but I didn't really care. He's a dog, so he's going to bark or whatever. I took out my MacBook Pro and did some homework for my sustainable communities class, but I had to check Facebook, too, so I didn't get my homework done. Then I was hungry, so I totally ordered the veggie sandwich because it's, like, so rude to eat animals or whatever.
Then I thought that some girl from Nebraska was calling me pretentious, but I couldn't really tell because my dog was barking so loudly.
Okay, so I've been dying to write about some of the ridiculous stuff in Flagstaff. The official name for this phenomenon is "culture shock". It's in one of my textbooks on page 195. In this stage, I'm feeling intruded upon by the host culture, and I seek solace in people who are similar to me and I take comfort in complaining about the host culture--hence my essay.
When I'm not making fun of the people of Flagstaff (I wear Birks, I ride a bike that gets stuff caught in the chain, I go to Macy's, and I check Facebook), I am loving life here. Grad school is is high gear and I'm learning so much about learning that I can't help but be a better student. Learn how to read textbooks, Jena, or else you will get a 60% on the quiz. Yep, welcome to graduate school. I'm learning about phonetics and phonology, and about communicative language teaching and the critical period hypothesis. The phonetic symbols have finally worked their way into my dreams, as have the assignments I give to my ENG 105 class. Somehow this stuff has permeated into my deeper consciousness. Terrifying.
I'm writing two papers at the moment. One on World English in Cambodia, and the other on Language Anxiety in the Foreign Language Classroom. Speaking of anxiety and pretense...Actually, grad school isn't as bad as I thought. Although, I'm glad it isn't as bad as I thought because I would definitely be in tears if I had anything else on my plate at the moment.
I've made some friends, thank goodness, who look out for me and tell me to go home when I've been chained to my office chair all afternoon. I do fun stuff occasionally, like unpretentiously hike on mountains.
So I hope that is enough of an update to say that I'm still alive, I love what I'm doing, and I'm still able to pick apart a host culture like it's my job.
Keep it real, Flagstaff. And wash your hair.
September 12, 2011
Pre-mid-September Updates
To my loyal readers, sorry I've not posted as regularly I would like to. To the rest of you, you made it just in time.
I've been in graduate school for two weeks now. I've got homework, I've got far-out paper due dates, and I've got my own class to run. As a teacher/tutor/student, I am trying my best to keep everything in my planner, and then actually look at the planner to remember what's next.
The most surprising thing that's happened so far is in my TESL Practicum. Instead of working with ESL students, through a serendipitous chain of events, I ended up as an assistant in a first-year German class. The professor is enthusiastic about having a helper in her class, especially since that helper has the remnants of an Austrian accent. I observed the class on Thursday, a requirement of the TESL practicum, and on Tuesday, I will start as an active teaching force (that's the first thing that came to mind, "force") in GER 101. Look out students, I'm about to lay some serious "Steierisch" on you. "Les ma a bissl was, ga?"
Although it has been three years since I lived in Austria, my fond memories of Kaffee and Schnitzel still warm my heart. My German has deteriorated since then, but at a GER 101 level, I feel confidant that I can handle it.
Did I mention that I teach Freshman Composition? Well, they have also been impressed by my German abilities because I told them about my assignment. They are a fun bunch, my ENG 105ers. We had a rousing discussion of rhetoric centered around the hypothetical text message "I love you". They were so enthralled that I was worried that my subsequent lessons wouldn't stack up. I was right. Sometimes you have to be more boring. How about that for a teaching philosophy?
Graduate school is a lot of work, and a lot of planning to do work. But it's also a place where I am surrounded by people who are a lot like me. And they like coffee, so...life is good.
I've been in graduate school for two weeks now. I've got homework, I've got far-out paper due dates, and I've got my own class to run. As a teacher/tutor/student, I am trying my best to keep everything in my planner, and then actually look at the planner to remember what's next.
The most surprising thing that's happened so far is in my TESL Practicum. Instead of working with ESL students, through a serendipitous chain of events, I ended up as an assistant in a first-year German class. The professor is enthusiastic about having a helper in her class, especially since that helper has the remnants of an Austrian accent. I observed the class on Thursday, a requirement of the TESL practicum, and on Tuesday, I will start as an active teaching force (that's the first thing that came to mind, "force") in GER 101. Look out students, I'm about to lay some serious "Steierisch" on you. "Les ma a bissl was, ga?"
Although it has been three years since I lived in Austria, my fond memories of Kaffee and Schnitzel still warm my heart. My German has deteriorated since then, but at a GER 101 level, I feel confidant that I can handle it.
Did I mention that I teach Freshman Composition? Well, they have also been impressed by my German abilities because I told them about my assignment. They are a fun bunch, my ENG 105ers. We had a rousing discussion of rhetoric centered around the hypothetical text message "I love you". They were so enthralled that I was worried that my subsequent lessons wouldn't stack up. I was right. Sometimes you have to be more boring. How about that for a teaching philosophy?
Graduate school is a lot of work, and a lot of planning to do work. But it's also a place where I am surrounded by people who are a lot like me. And they like coffee, so...life is good.
September 1, 2011
Mostly a list.
It was my first real day of graduate school. How do I know? I wore dress pants, for starters. I discussed possible topics for term papers with a professor. I said the words "communicative competence, syntax and linguistic analysis" while jogging with a fellow grad student. I sent a dozen emails regarding a "practicum". I spent two hours responding to freshman comp papers. I also made last minute copies of book pages for some of my students, held office hours, and rode my bike home after dark. I don't recommend ever doing that last part. I didn't eat dinner until past 8, and I hardly noticed. I didn't have my customary bowl of ice cream, and I hardly noticed. I did have a cup of tea. That's important.
Grad school. I love it for now. Even the dress pants.
Grad school. I love it for now. Even the dress pants.
August 21, 2011
"Just Jena" or "Linchpins are cool, but not cool enough"
Grad school has many surprises for me. Even my name is subject to scrutiny.
Today is my 24th birthday, and according to my Grandpa, I still have four years to prepare for my career-phase (28-42). The career I think I want is teaching ESL. That's what my masters degree will be in, anyway. My preparation at NAU includes graduate level coursework and a teaching assistantship in the English department teaching "Reading and Writing for the Academy Community"--essentially, it's a required writing class for freshman.
I'm a week away from starting my classes, and even though the lesson planning is daunting, it's the small things that give me the biggest hang-ups. For example, what should I have students call me? I want to have authority, but not intimidation. My instinct says "Jena" because I like my first name, and I don't feel like a Miss, Ms. or Mrs., and definitely not a Prof. or Dr.. I could go with "Ms. Lynch", but I've never been all that fond of "Lynch". I think of lynchings or lynch mobs, neither of which suggest that I am a nice or reasonable person. I could always say, "Lynch" like "linchpin", but I think my aversion to the name is more than semantic.
I am not close to the "Lynch" side of my family. When my parents divorced, I had my dad's last name, but little else. When my Mom has remarried, I became the only Lynch in the Griesel family. A few years back, I seriously contemplated legally changing my last name. First I thought of practical changes, "Jena Griesel", "Jena Moore" (Mom's maiden name), or even "Jena Keim" (Grandma's maiden name). None of these choices sounded very natural, so I tried to tap into the Italian-ness of "Gina". "Jena Bonati" (our one-time foreign exchange student) "Jena Marzetti" (a salad dressing) or "Jena Lorenzetti" (Still has the L). These seemed a little far-fetched, since I have no relation to Italy.
As a teacher, I want a name that has a positive connotation, (preferably something not connected to killing) like "Teegarden", "Goodheart", or "Coffee". A German name would also fit me: "Ms. Braun", "Ms. Ritter", "Ms. Garten", etc.
But alas. Here I am Jena Lynch. Rather than be called by a name that I don't really like, I think I'll stick with just Jena.
Or I could really go for it and be "Lady Lynch".
Today is my 24th birthday, and according to my Grandpa, I still have four years to prepare for my career-phase (28-42). The career I think I want is teaching ESL. That's what my masters degree will be in, anyway. My preparation at NAU includes graduate level coursework and a teaching assistantship in the English department teaching "Reading and Writing for the Academy Community"--essentially, it's a required writing class for freshman.
I'm a week away from starting my classes, and even though the lesson planning is daunting, it's the small things that give me the biggest hang-ups. For example, what should I have students call me? I want to have authority, but not intimidation. My instinct says "Jena" because I like my first name, and I don't feel like a Miss, Ms. or Mrs., and definitely not a Prof. or Dr.. I could go with "Ms. Lynch", but I've never been all that fond of "Lynch". I think of lynchings or lynch mobs, neither of which suggest that I am a nice or reasonable person. I could always say, "Lynch" like "linchpin", but I think my aversion to the name is more than semantic.
I am not close to the "Lynch" side of my family. When my parents divorced, I had my dad's last name, but little else. When my Mom has remarried, I became the only Lynch in the Griesel family. A few years back, I seriously contemplated legally changing my last name. First I thought of practical changes, "Jena Griesel", "Jena Moore" (Mom's maiden name), or even "Jena Keim" (Grandma's maiden name). None of these choices sounded very natural, so I tried to tap into the Italian-ness of "Gina". "Jena Bonati" (our one-time foreign exchange student) "Jena Marzetti" (a salad dressing) or "Jena Lorenzetti" (Still has the L). These seemed a little far-fetched, since I have no relation to Italy.
As a teacher, I want a name that has a positive connotation, (preferably something not connected to killing) like "Teegarden", "Goodheart", or "Coffee". A German name would also fit me: "Ms. Braun", "Ms. Ritter", "Ms. Garten", etc.
But alas. Here I am Jena Lynch. Rather than be called by a name that I don't really like, I think I'll stick with just Jena.
Or I could really go for it and be "Lady Lynch".
August 10, 2011
Welcome to Grad School--Sort of!
I'm officially a grad student. I wrote my first paper, well, "response" to a reading. An informal one-pager full of my thoughts on David Bartholomae's "Inventing the University". I feel so grad student-y now.
Actually, the text had a lot of tough ideas and I spent about two hours trying to figure out what to put in or leave out of my response. I want to start strong. Or at least with minimal typos.
I really like grad school so far. I'm a whopping two days into my graduate teaching assistant (GTA) training/orientation that should prepare me to teach Freshman Composition. The instructors are helpful and organized, and the new GTA's are fun and smart. I'm still getting used to sharing my thoughts and questions in front of 30+ people (why do the dumb questions make me raise my hand?). I will also get back in the Writing Center this fall, and I might even get to do some writing tutoring outside of the WC. Oh yeah, and I'll be taking graduate courses in TESL. It will be a lot of work.
I've been riding my bike to campus. It's 20 invigorating minutes of rolling hills each way. Pant Pant Pant. Helmet hair. Sweat on my dress pants. Heavy backpack. No big deal. The weather is gorgeous, it's Flagstaff, and I'm getting exercise without going to the gym.
Life is good.
Actually, the text had a lot of tough ideas and I spent about two hours trying to figure out what to put in or leave out of my response. I want to start strong. Or at least with minimal typos.
I really like grad school so far. I'm a whopping two days into my graduate teaching assistant (GTA) training/orientation that should prepare me to teach Freshman Composition. The instructors are helpful and organized, and the new GTA's are fun and smart. I'm still getting used to sharing my thoughts and questions in front of 30+ people (why do the dumb questions make me raise my hand?). I will also get back in the Writing Center this fall, and I might even get to do some writing tutoring outside of the WC. Oh yeah, and I'll be taking graduate courses in TESL. It will be a lot of work.
I've been riding my bike to campus. It's 20 invigorating minutes of rolling hills each way. Pant Pant Pant. Helmet hair. Sweat on my dress pants. Heavy backpack. No big deal. The weather is gorgeous, it's Flagstaff, and I'm getting exercise without going to the gym.
Life is good.
August 5, 2011
Something to accompany the pictures of last post
It’s much harder to blog about things that went well. That’s my excuse for not writing much lately. Flagstaff is incredible, the weather is a temperature so perfect that my body doesn’t even register it, and I’m no longer alone all day every day.
What is there to write about? My boyfriend came to visit me with his fractured elbow in a sling. Although I found his left-handed motions awkward and funny, I enjoyed the chance to help him out with day-to-day things that are hard with one hand, like picking up heavy things, carrying laundry baskets and opening bottles.
Despite the broken arm, and my better judgment, my boyfriend and I tried to experience Arizona’s outdoor pleasures. It turns out that my ability to whine about anything was more of a hindrance than the broken arm. We drove to Sedona and took a short, hot hike on Wilson Mountain—named for Mr. Wilson who was gobbled up by a bear at the turn of the last century. We slid down steep rocks to Oak Creek. We even took a scenic route by Red Rock High School to get an up-close view of the thunderstorm moving into Sedona, at which time I became jealous of the Red Rock school district and paranoid about getting struck by lightning. Closer to Flagstaff, we explored a hike trail near Mormon lake that I renamed “1000 Ways to Break an Ankle.” I’m not exactly an outdoor enthusiast, but I do my best to keep up with a guy with one arm.
When we weren’t out trying to break other body parts on the cliffs of Arizona, we took turns winning Scrabble until he figured out the “Bingo” rule (if you can play all of your tiles in one turn, you get to add 50 to your total score). After that, I had to fudge on the rules if I wanted to come even within 50 points of his score. For some reason, my background in English doesn’t translate into creating a crossword puzzle on the spot. The wine didn’t help either.
My roommate and a few guests also arrived during the week my boyfriend visited. Stress. Having been alone for several weeks and then suddenly being surrounded by people was a shock to my system. They were all very friendly and wonderful people, so my stress soon melted into much needed social interaction.
I also got to share more than I planned with my new roommate the day after my boyfriend left. After two afternoons of severe stomach cramping, fatigue and mild headache, I decided to get a professional opinion. Well, decided, as in I began crying in my roommate’s car while I was on the phone with a family friend asking about walk-in clinics. The decision was made for me, really. I can’t imagine how terrifying for my new roommate to have me crying and clutching my abdomen on her third day in Flagstaff. Bless her heart, she put in the address of the clinic to her GPS, drove me there, and sat with me in the lobby as my stomach churned and gurgled.
As I sat on the doctor’s table I expected that all of my internal organs were complete mush and that I would need some scary procedure involving a transplant. To my delight, I was diagnosed with altitude sickness, an affliction common to hikers and those who move to high altitude cities like Flagstaff. The doctor said that the pain in my stomach was most likely due to dehydration caused by the altitude, and that physical exertion and the Scrabble wine were exacerbating the problem. At this altitude you have to drink a lot more water than usual. Seriously? That’s it?
Seriously, one Gatorade and a couple glasses of water later, I was feeling better. I just needed to know what was wrong to fix it!
There's no real moral to this story. I had a lot of fun and I got altitude sickness. Welcome to Flagstaff.
What is there to write about? My boyfriend came to visit me with his fractured elbow in a sling. Although I found his left-handed motions awkward and funny, I enjoyed the chance to help him out with day-to-day things that are hard with one hand, like picking up heavy things, carrying laundry baskets and opening bottles.
Despite the broken arm, and my better judgment, my boyfriend and I tried to experience Arizona’s outdoor pleasures. It turns out that my ability to whine about anything was more of a hindrance than the broken arm. We drove to Sedona and took a short, hot hike on Wilson Mountain—named for Mr. Wilson who was gobbled up by a bear at the turn of the last century. We slid down steep rocks to Oak Creek. We even took a scenic route by Red Rock High School to get an up-close view of the thunderstorm moving into Sedona, at which time I became jealous of the Red Rock school district and paranoid about getting struck by lightning. Closer to Flagstaff, we explored a hike trail near Mormon lake that I renamed “1000 Ways to Break an Ankle.” I’m not exactly an outdoor enthusiast, but I do my best to keep up with a guy with one arm.
When we weren’t out trying to break other body parts on the cliffs of Arizona, we took turns winning Scrabble until he figured out the “Bingo” rule (if you can play all of your tiles in one turn, you get to add 50 to your total score). After that, I had to fudge on the rules if I wanted to come even within 50 points of his score. For some reason, my background in English doesn’t translate into creating a crossword puzzle on the spot. The wine didn’t help either.
My roommate and a few guests also arrived during the week my boyfriend visited. Stress. Having been alone for several weeks and then suddenly being surrounded by people was a shock to my system. They were all very friendly and wonderful people, so my stress soon melted into much needed social interaction.
I also got to share more than I planned with my new roommate the day after my boyfriend left. After two afternoons of severe stomach cramping, fatigue and mild headache, I decided to get a professional opinion. Well, decided, as in I began crying in my roommate’s car while I was on the phone with a family friend asking about walk-in clinics. The decision was made for me, really. I can’t imagine how terrifying for my new roommate to have me crying and clutching my abdomen on her third day in Flagstaff. Bless her heart, she put in the address of the clinic to her GPS, drove me there, and sat with me in the lobby as my stomach churned and gurgled.
As I sat on the doctor’s table I expected that all of my internal organs were complete mush and that I would need some scary procedure involving a transplant. To my delight, I was diagnosed with altitude sickness, an affliction common to hikers and those who move to high altitude cities like Flagstaff. The doctor said that the pain in my stomach was most likely due to dehydration caused by the altitude, and that physical exertion and the Scrabble wine were exacerbating the problem. At this altitude you have to drink a lot more water than usual. Seriously? That’s it?
Seriously, one Gatorade and a couple glasses of water later, I was feeling better. I just needed to know what was wrong to fix it!
There's no real moral to this story. I had a lot of fun and I got altitude sickness. Welcome to Flagstaff.
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