Welcome to Fabulous...Las Vegas

Glamorous me and friends

If you don't know the story of how I ended up in Flagstaff, it starts with Las Vegas.

I spent last weekend on a pilgrimage of sorts--a bachelorette party in Las Vegas. A best friend from college is getting married this fall, and she's asked me to be a part of her wedding.

My fascination with Las Vegas began with The Killers--one of my favorite bands hails from Sin City. Yet it wasn't until the lead singer put out a solo album about finding himself, God, and everything in between in Las Vegas that I became fixed on moving to the Southwest. His entire album pays homage to the contradictions of Las Vegas--the fabulous and the sleezy, the cheap and the lux, God and the devil. I fell in love with the album "Flamingo", and now here I am in...well, Flagstaff. It's not Vegas, but it is the Southwest.

My friend's finance is from Henderson, Nevada, so Las Vegas actually wasn't that bizarre for his side. I feel that I lucked out in that Vegas is only about four hours away by car. The other bridesmaids needed plan tickets.

The Strip is fantastic. Though disorienting, expensive and pretentious, there is something magnificent about the glamorous, enormous buildings that loom like gods above the crowds. The lyrics comparing the worship of the sins of Vegas to the worship of God suddenly make more sense.

Las Vegas is the perfect escape. For a weekend, anyone can pretend to have the money, time and class to live it up. It's a right of passage in Vegas to pay too much for sashimi and cocktails, blow money on slots, and wait in line for exclusive clubs. Women can wear too short, too sparkly, too tight clothing and heels that only Gaga could love. Even as a self-described "frugal-ass broad", I could pretend for two days that I was a classy, well-paid, well-vacationed woman.

I wish I had a more articulate explanation of Vegas. I reconnected with old friends, made new friends, and escaped for a weekend. Las Vegas is nothing like I expected, yet "Flamingo" makes more sense now that I've experienced the muse myself.

Here's to Vegas, big dreams and getting married.


Give us your dreamers, your harlots and your sins
Las Vegas
Didn't nobody tell you?
The house will always win.

Photo from my Mom

My Mom is not much of a coffee drinker; yet in honor of this tremendous blog, enjoyed a vanilla latte at this coffee shop. Thanks, Mom!

Beyond Finals

It's weird how I feel somehow bad that I haven't posted much in the past year--as though I haven't contributed my two cents to the blogosphere--which I guess I technically haven't--and I wouldn't say the world is any worse off for it.

My last post, lamenting the agonies of finals and the lust for expensive products made by Apple was pleasing at the time. Now, however, I think I have a few more interesting (and less expensive) things to write about. By the way, I'm writing this on my hefty Dell, which is still working...

So I survived Finals, if not with a few deeper lines in my forehead and a few more red lines showing in my eyes. I successfully completed my first year of grad school with a 4.0 GPA (I would expect nothing less). Many of my colleagues did the same--and this is the reason I love grad school so much. So many motivated and intelligent people working together. Compared with my undersgraduate coursework, in this Master's program, feel much more accomplished. I think many grad students have the experience that it is the students who run grad courses by contributing thoguhts and summaries of the textbooks and articles choosen by thte professor. It's more pressure, but more rewarding for those, who, like me, are willing to put in the extra effort (i.e. reading time). I will say that modesty may not be the virtue of my blog.

As though finals were not enough, I also finished up ENG 105. Toward the end of a hard day of grading, I had to call my Grandpa for some advice. I lamented the poor students, the no-shows, the good-students-gone-bad. I complained (as you might guess from the way I write) about almost every aspect of teaching. My Grandpa listened patientiently and diagnosed me as a novice teacher. You'll toughen up, he said. It's hard to give out unlikeable grades to kids you like. Teachers, especially at the beginning, want everyone to succeed, and take it very personally when some students don't make it. Stick to the standards. Use your rubric. Give them the grade they earned. That's your job. They might not be successful in your class, but that's ok. As a long-time teacher, administrator, and coach, my Grandpa is a good mentor for a novice like me. After talking with him, I felt ready to dole out final grades, difficult as it was to know that I might have the power to end someone's student visa.

The sharp drop-off of activity since finals caught me off guard. My boyfriend has moved in for the summer--which is a huge change from our nightly telephone calls. I think I drove him a little nuts the first few days because I wanted to stay so busy. We painted a few rooms in my apartment and drove all over town looking for a new dining room table. We also drove all over town trying to find him some temporary employment. I think I've blogged several times about how tough it is to get temporary employment. It's the same story here in Flagstaff. He must have filled out 20 applications in one week. We've been scouring the city for possibilities, but no luck yet.

The highlight of the summer so far was the solar eclipse. If you are an astronomy junkie, or if you listen to NPR, you might know that last Sunday, there was a total eclipse of the sun, visible in the US southwest, along a line passing very near the Grand Canyon. I had been eager to get our of Flagstaff for a day trip somewhere, so I decided that we should make an event out of this eclipse. We bought special eclipse glasses and drove up to Page, AZ, hoping for an optimal view. By chance we happened upon a dusty desert hiking trail  that had perfect views of the expanses of land around Page. We got to watch the moon slowly eat away the sun for nearly an hour before all that remained was a thin ring of fire. It was a very bizarre experience because the sky didn't actually darken as I thought it might, but it did seem to cool off by about 20 degrees once the moon blocked the sun. It's a rare event to have a total eclipse slide through your backyard, so I'm thrilled that we made a fun day out of it.

Okay, I feel better about my cyber contributions for this month. Tomorrow I start my summer gig at the Program in Intensive English. I forecast some interesting posts in the near future...

"Thoughts on technology" or "Waste some time while studying for Finals"

At the end of every semester, it seems, I get the urge to make a major change.

The psychologist in me says that I am seeking control during a time when everything is chaotic and mostly out of my control.

Last semester, during Finals Week, I decided to try being vegetarian. A good choice, I think--except for Diablo Burger and the delicious food made by my Chinese Scholars. I had to convert back for a few hours to sample their dishes.

This semester, I am fixated on getting new technology. "Retail Therapy" you may be thinking.  I too, think that such a phenomenon may be contributing to my desire, but I also think that the 6-inch stack of articles I have printed for my classes this semester might have something to do with it.

My hearty Dell laptop survived my entire undergraduate career (including Study Abroad), and went on the fritz just before my finals in December, 2009. I tried to replace the trusty (albeit weighty) Dell with a netbook. Yes, I needed something lightweight for my trip to Cambodia, and December 2009 may have been the peak of the netbook. Babytop, my tiny, red companion, got me through hundreds of Cambodian Adventure Lady blogs, but definitely falls short as a primary computer. It's small, does not have a common OS, and somehow the speakers and headphone jack do not work any more (thanks probably to the humidity in Phnom Penh).

Before grad school, I grudgingly agreed not to purchase a new laptop, and instead had a new hard drive installed in the now seriously old-school Dell.

I admit, the longevity of this machine is usual. In these times of rapidly changing technologies, few machines can keep up.

I found out today that mine has trouble keeping up, too. Google Docs. If you've never use these magical, yet devious devices, let me explain. A Google Doc is very similar to an word-processing program, except that it is stored online. In addition, you can invite anyone to co-author the document. Two or more people can even work on the document simultaneously, which eliminates the need for sending drafts of revisions back and forth (a tedious and almost traumatic experience for someone like me, who usually struggles with the revisions that others make--or don't).

Back to the Google Doc, today I organized a study session for our Sociolinguistics class. I prepared a Google Doc with all of the study guide questions so that we could all upload our existing work, and continue working simultaneously to get this study guide finished. Let me just say that nine people sitting around a library table with laptops, six-inch stacks of articles, textbooks, flash drives, chai teas, and cell phones is a bit chaotic to begin with. Once we started working on the Google Doc, things got even crazier. At first, it was sort of like magic. Answers started popping up. Little bits of knowledge from our respective brains coming together. Then it got crazy. People started uploading study guides from last year (borrowed in good faith from nice 2nd-year MA's).

Our once pristine study guide quickly turned into a 50-page festering wound of text. I'm the kind of person who takes one look a document like that (by the way, we are allowed only 2 pages of notes for the test) and wants to blow chunks.

Seriously. I'm all about compiling info and then cutting it down later, but what am I supposed to do with 50 pages of other people's stuff? The answer is of course: delete, delete, delete; but where do I start?

I think my computer and I had some sort of ESP, because the nine-person simultaneous edit kept shutting down my Internet Explorer, and my computer became unresponsive three times before I gave up.

I don't think I can blame the old technology for me giving up, as I also became unresponsive several times...yet, I do think that things like Google Docs and other online "cloud" storage is probably the next big thing. It can be wildly convenient if your computer or other device can keep up. I wanted to participate a little better in the brain and file dump this afternoon, and I couldn't keep up with the fiesty Macbooks and Lenovos.

So if you will remember back to the beginning of this post, I wrote about my obsession with getting new technology. I've been researching the iPad. It's not a laptop, but it could be a nice tool when I don't have access to a computer, but need connectivity and access to my documents.The iPad has been dominating my wish list for a number of reasons:

1) Most important, it looks so cool. I think I have just blown my credibility entirely, but hear me out or skip to #2. When I see others with iPads, I assume they are not only cool, but also very smart and organized--though it is more likely the case that they are spoiled brats (undergraduates) or are eating Ramen every night to make up for the cost (graduate students). Moreover, neither smarter nor more organized than me, they probably just think iPads are cool, so they got one.

2) Lightweight. I ride my bike to school (to save the $500 parking pass for people with extra money) and my Goliath laptop would make the ride more difficult and contribute to my already crappy posture. As of now, I almost never bring my laptop (I have my own computer in my office), but next year, I won't have my own computer and I will have just as much computer work to do, so I think I will want my laptop more often. Hence, I need a lightweight alternative.

3) Read, store, organize PDF's and e-books. My discipline loves PDF articles, as evidenced in the mind-blowing stacks I have been lugging around the past couple days in preparation for finals. Put these in combination with my overweight laptop, and I need a backpack and another bag to haul all of my materials to the library (or nearest chai tea location). Beyond the heavy-factor, it's a task just to find the right article in the stack. For each question, I have to look through 30-40 articles. Not efficient. Once I find the article I want, I still have to look for the term or specific information that I need. Not that this is too difficult a task, but in an e-format, a quick document search would save loads of time! I'm imagining the utopian grad school experience in which I can easily access the rich knowledge (and the minutia) of TESL with the tap of a screen and spend the time I would have spent rifling through my files on thinking deeply about the concepts most salient to my field.

(side note: yikes on my writing style. I can tell I've been writing academic papers all year. I just identified an appositive noun phrase earlier in this post. Gag! Grammar class has ruined me.)

4) Netflix. You bet I watch Netflix! I'm just finishing Season 3 of RuPaul's Drag Race (America's Next Top Model for Drag Queens). I would love to have a clearer picture for my indulgence in crap TV. Maybe if I become more cool with an iPad, I would watch cooler shows. Doubtful, but maybe I will!

5) Who cares. I've made you read a ton of blabbing (again).

To review, my old laptop is heavy and can't keep up with the changes in technology or my life, Google Docs can be a hot mess, an iPads are the ticket to utopia.

Niqab--the Face Veil

It's been more than a month since my last post. I can attribute my lack of prolific publishing to 1) a time-sucking schedule that could best be described as "painful", and 2) a shortage of good material. Unless you want to hear about my office, journal articles on applied linguistics, or varying degrees of insanity brought on by ambiguity intolerance, I don't have much to say.

Today, however, an inconsequential Friday during which I managed to squeeze out 15 minutes to attend the International Fair, proved to be blog-worthy.

I went to the fair intending to make the rounds to see my international friends, make awkward small talk, and then slip off to yoga.

I greeted my friends at the Moroccan and Tunisian tables, and then I began strolling the tables. The Saudi table was easy to spot, as all the men had traditional garb--the long white tunics, the red checked head scarf and the black ropes that keep the scarf attached. Even though I was hoping to slip by the table, one of the guys stopped me and said "would you like to try it on?" He held up what appeared to be a black table cloth. My curiosity spoke out before the hesitation could stop me. Before I knew it, I was slipping into a long, black robe that covered all of my arms, and nearly reached the floor. Then the guys draped my head with a black scarf. Then came teh scary part. The niqab, or face veil. This piece of fabric some how looked very ominous with it's slit for the eyes. As they tied it around my head, I felt a little clastrophobic. Only my eyes were now visible. I was dressed like a Saudi woman.

I was quite intimidated at first, but I did my best to stay calm as they took my picture. They instructed me to lift the face part so that I could talk more easily. Then they interviewed me, on camera, about how I felt in the clothes. To be honest, in the clothes, I felt very safe. Sure, at first it was intimidating, but that also had to do with strangers helping me assemble an outfit. Without a mirror, I really had no idea what I looked like, but since only my eyes were showing, I can guess that I closely resembled any woman who tries on this outfit. In my interview, I think I described the outfit as feeling like a scarf. When I wear a scarf, my neck always feels protected, and much to my surprise this outfit made my whole body feel that way.

After I took off the clothing, I felt like a different person. Although nothing really changed, I felt different. I felt like I understood something better, or like a had a million more questions. I love things like that. Many Americans, including me are very ignorant about the Middle East, and that it something I am not proud of.

Since most of my students are Saudi men, I feel like I need to get to know their culture better. The only woman in my class is from Kuwait, and she doesn't veil. Some of her friends do, and they have gotten in the habit of coming along to office hours with my student. I really enjoy talking with them. They ask me for advice on ENG 105, and I ask them about Kuwait. It's a good trade.

Every day, whether I blog or not, I learn something. Today I had a profound experience of walking in someone else's shoes (actually, seeing through someone else's niqab). What a wonderful opportunity to lose some ignorance and learn about my students.

If I weren't so darn tired, I would extend my metaphors further, but not tonight. Maybe later.

Farewell faithful readers, and goodnight.

Spring Break Forecasting

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Thanksgiving on a Card Table

This year marked my first Thanksgiving away from home. The holiday also gave me a much needed break from school, and an even more needed dose of boyfriend time.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.