Today was a great day. Jake was all freaked out because it was supposed to be 100 today (although my computer only said 94), and I said, why not go to the pool?
We woke up, and the kids played in the park with Jake while I took a morning run before it got too ghastly hot. I recently downloaded the free app Map My Run (works for walks too) and was pretty psyched to discover that my pace is the same as what my average pace was back in San Diego 9 years ago. Not blisteringly fast, not even fast or medium fast, but definitely faster than, like, a year ago! Between walking and running I do 12-16 miles a week which is, I know, basically nothing. But I also have my gym class twice a week on top of that, and it's pretty much what I can manage right now what with working and the kids, and it feels nice.
Then I took Milo to the grocery store and he was completely delightful, like he always is at the store.
Then after the kids' nap we packed up our stuff and went to the pool, which was super fun. It was in the mid nineties and the pool was like bathwater, not at all cold, and I've got the only two kids on the planet who still start shivering and shaking after 10 minutes. They'd both be literally shivering all over, with blue lips, but insist they were fine and wanted to stay in. I made them get out every so often and warm up in the sun. Our friends joined us with their baby and everybody had a great time. Thanks to swimming lessons both kids really enjoy being in the water now, even though neither of them is even close to swimming. Nora was great about putting her face under water and taking risks and trying to swim a little bit. She has perfect form, floating on her back, but she still sinks like a rock. Milo does too. I think the fact that neither of them has any protective fat means they sink and get cold, but they still have a blast.
We had so much fun that we stayed through dinner time, eating apples and peanut butter and cherries, plums, and homemade granola bars, and only left when it was bedtime. Driving home at 7:15 it was still 91 degrees out.
Milo: Summer is my favorite season. And winter. Summer and winter. And fall.
Me too, Milo - but especially that part about summer.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Deja Vu
CSN&Y reminds me of college. So does 98 degree humidity...but also CSN&Y. I know, we were total retro ironic hippies. Especially my first college roommate. She was some sort of genius who graduated high school at 16 and wore her hair long and never drank, preferring to smoke pot. Now she's a SAH mom who homeschools her kids and raises chickens and has a gluten free recipes blog.
My roommate had a project with her dad when she was in high school. Together they found a non-functioning Morris Mini, and they bought it and then repaired it and got it into working condition. She took this car to college with her, even though freshmen couldn't have cars, so she parked it on the street and had to move it every night between 2 and 3 a.m. (This was not a problem given our lifestyle).
This thing was little.
The driver's side was on the right. When October came, we got fall break, which was basically a Friday off. My roommate was from Chicago so we decided to drive from St. Louis to Chicago with another friend of ours in that Morris Mini over fall break. It was a 6-hour drive. It was a lot of fun. It was very exciting for me and the other friend, Chad, to be going on a road trip on our own. It was less exciting for my roommate, who had had basically enormous amounts of freedom and autonomy for a number of years already, to a degree that impressed my teenaged self. Somehow we ended up with only one cassette tape in the car, which was Deja Vu by CSN&Y. And we listened to that same tape over and over and over and over again on the trip.
Nowadays the idea of driving from St. Louis to Chicago in a 25-year old Morris Mini is not my idea of the best time, but for an 18 year old, it was truly outstanding.
(Not off Deja Vu, but still a good one):
My roommate had a project with her dad when she was in high school. Together they found a non-functioning Morris Mini, and they bought it and then repaired it and got it into working condition. She took this car to college with her, even though freshmen couldn't have cars, so she parked it on the street and had to move it every night between 2 and 3 a.m. (This was not a problem given our lifestyle).
This thing was little.
The driver's side was on the right. When October came, we got fall break, which was basically a Friday off. My roommate was from Chicago so we decided to drive from St. Louis to Chicago with another friend of ours in that Morris Mini over fall break. It was a 6-hour drive. It was a lot of fun. It was very exciting for me and the other friend, Chad, to be going on a road trip on our own. It was less exciting for my roommate, who had had basically enormous amounts of freedom and autonomy for a number of years already, to a degree that impressed my teenaged self. Somehow we ended up with only one cassette tape in the car, which was Deja Vu by CSN&Y. And we listened to that same tape over and over and over and over again on the trip.
Nowadays the idea of driving from St. Louis to Chicago in a 25-year old Morris Mini is not my idea of the best time, but for an 18 year old, it was truly outstanding.
(Not off Deja Vu, but still a good one):
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
0. The kids got haircuts!
Before:
After:
1. My chair told me he got a letter confirming my tenure from the board of regents, after I asked him about it about 18 times. (I never got any official notification at any stage of the process). So now it is official! Hooray!
Yes, at other institutions professors are usually notified (usually at every stage of the process). Of course, at other institutions it's also not unusual to publish some sort of standards for tenure, and some information about the process, instead of everything always being super secret the way it is on our campus.
2. Last night Milo and Nora were playing in the park with their next door neighbors, two girls 5 and 8, who they love playing with. Milo had his iron man mask on. They were being super heros. It was time for the girls to go, and the younger girl chased Milo to hug him goodbye. He ran away. She pursued. He tripped and fell, prone on the grass, with his iron man mask over his head, defenseless as she caught up to him and hugged him. Yes, it was as cute as it sounds.
Milo is being kind of weird these days. He cries really easily, much more so than is typical for him. At the same time, he's a total dick to Nora. I'm kind of at my wit's end with all the fighting and bickering. Even today with all of my interventions there has been kicking from each kid, privileges lost, a door slammed on somebody's foot...it never ends. Seriously, save me from the fighting.
Remember when they were all cute and innocent? *sigh*
3. There have been some news stories about how U.S. kids are super spoiled. I think this is kind of true and kind of not true. Kids are loaded up with more and more stuff than ever before. Toys, sports equipment, phones, computers, clothes. Kids have also become accustomed to having adults at their beck and call, instead of the other way around. Middle class or upper class kids may not be doing the kinds of chores they were doing a generation or two ago, because those chores may be outsourced now (people hire house cleaners, gardeners to mow their lawns, etc.)
At the same time, kids now have about three times as much homework to deal with as we had when my generation was in school. They're expected to be in a lot more sports and other activities. They're busier, always being shuttled from one activity to the next, staying up late to complete their homework. My kids aren't even in elementary school yet but I'm totally against this homework arms race. I don't think it helps kids at all.
So, Milo and Nora are 4 and a half. At this age we make them clean up their toys, admittedly in a pretty haphazard way. They also have to make their beds every morning, put their clothes in the laundry basket, and they clear their places after each meal. Before meals I have them put their placemats out. Is that enough chores for their age? I have no idea. Maybe they should be doing more, but it's not clear to me what the more would involve. They both help us when we clean the house, because they're still at the stage where they think that's fun. They don't get an allowance. I was thinking of maybe instating an allowance when they're 5, to the tune of perhaps a dollar a week. Or maybe 50 cents a week?
It's funny to see how they each deal with their little tasks. Nora is better at remembering to bring her plate to the sink after a meal. Milo has to be reminded more often. Milo is fastidious about making his bed every morning. I never have to tell him. I have to tell Nora every morning, and she balks at it, complaining that it's a big job. I'm hoping that her pissing and moaning reaction about this now, and learning that she has to do it anyway, will teach her some discipline so that we won't be dealing with teenage levels of pissing and moaning at every unenjoyable task when they're older. But that's probably wishful thinking.
However, last night I decided to publicly (in front of Nora) talk to Milo about how proud I am of him for making his bed every morning without me asking. And lo and behold, for the first time ever, Nora came down this morning informing me that she had already made her bed! She was very pleased with herself.
Last night Milo tore his Spiderman sticker. This is a sticker he got at the audiologist's a few weeks ago. He was so, so upset about this. He cried for about half an hour about this sticker. We did lots of cuddling and hugging to make him feel better, but it didn't 100% do the trick. After he went to bed Jake said maybe he'd try to find Milo another Spiderman sticker the next day. I thought, that sounded like a good idea. Then I thought, maybe after swimming I'd take the kids to the store and see if we could find a Spiderman sticker.
Then I slept on it, and woke up, and realized oh no, that's actually a terrible idea. As much as I want to make Milo feel better about his sticker tearing, I don't think that us fixing the problem for him the very next day would be good for him. It's better for Milo to experience the sadness of tearing his sticker, no matter how much that stinks, and then get over it on his own without his parents making it all better right away. I think I read that somewhere in a parenting book. That parents make the mistake of fixing their kids' problems, so that kids never experience the little heartbreaks that are a natural part of life, and then you end up with bigger kids and adolescents and adults who are completely unequipped to handle any hardship whatsoever. So if your kid is being careless and drops his ice cream cone, parents might be tempted to just get them another one right away instead of letting the kid experience the disappointment of losing his ice cream. So on reflection I decided to not get Milo another Spiderman sticker, and let him just get over it. We comforted him with hugs and cuddling, but we didn't make the problem go away by replacing his sticker.
Anyway, he hasn't forgotten about it today, but he seems more or less over it.
Before:
After:
1. My chair told me he got a letter confirming my tenure from the board of regents, after I asked him about it about 18 times. (I never got any official notification at any stage of the process). So now it is official! Hooray!
Yes, at other institutions professors are usually notified (usually at every stage of the process). Of course, at other institutions it's also not unusual to publish some sort of standards for tenure, and some information about the process, instead of everything always being super secret the way it is on our campus.
2. Last night Milo and Nora were playing in the park with their next door neighbors, two girls 5 and 8, who they love playing with. Milo had his iron man mask on. They were being super heros. It was time for the girls to go, and the younger girl chased Milo to hug him goodbye. He ran away. She pursued. He tripped and fell, prone on the grass, with his iron man mask over his head, defenseless as she caught up to him and hugged him. Yes, it was as cute as it sounds.
Milo is being kind of weird these days. He cries really easily, much more so than is typical for him. At the same time, he's a total dick to Nora. I'm kind of at my wit's end with all the fighting and bickering. Even today with all of my interventions there has been kicking from each kid, privileges lost, a door slammed on somebody's foot...it never ends. Seriously, save me from the fighting.
Remember when they were all cute and innocent? *sigh*
3. There have been some news stories about how U.S. kids are super spoiled. I think this is kind of true and kind of not true. Kids are loaded up with more and more stuff than ever before. Toys, sports equipment, phones, computers, clothes. Kids have also become accustomed to having adults at their beck and call, instead of the other way around. Middle class or upper class kids may not be doing the kinds of chores they were doing a generation or two ago, because those chores may be outsourced now (people hire house cleaners, gardeners to mow their lawns, etc.)
At the same time, kids now have about three times as much homework to deal with as we had when my generation was in school. They're expected to be in a lot more sports and other activities. They're busier, always being shuttled from one activity to the next, staying up late to complete their homework. My kids aren't even in elementary school yet but I'm totally against this homework arms race. I don't think it helps kids at all.
So, Milo and Nora are 4 and a half. At this age we make them clean up their toys, admittedly in a pretty haphazard way. They also have to make their beds every morning, put their clothes in the laundry basket, and they clear their places after each meal. Before meals I have them put their placemats out. Is that enough chores for their age? I have no idea. Maybe they should be doing more, but it's not clear to me what the more would involve. They both help us when we clean the house, because they're still at the stage where they think that's fun. They don't get an allowance. I was thinking of maybe instating an allowance when they're 5, to the tune of perhaps a dollar a week. Or maybe 50 cents a week?
It's funny to see how they each deal with their little tasks. Nora is better at remembering to bring her plate to the sink after a meal. Milo has to be reminded more often. Milo is fastidious about making his bed every morning. I never have to tell him. I have to tell Nora every morning, and she balks at it, complaining that it's a big job. I'm hoping that her pissing and moaning reaction about this now, and learning that she has to do it anyway, will teach her some discipline so that we won't be dealing with teenage levels of pissing and moaning at every unenjoyable task when they're older. But that's probably wishful thinking.
However, last night I decided to publicly (in front of Nora) talk to Milo about how proud I am of him for making his bed every morning without me asking. And lo and behold, for the first time ever, Nora came down this morning informing me that she had already made her bed! She was very pleased with herself.
Last night Milo tore his Spiderman sticker. This is a sticker he got at the audiologist's a few weeks ago. He was so, so upset about this. He cried for about half an hour about this sticker. We did lots of cuddling and hugging to make him feel better, but it didn't 100% do the trick. After he went to bed Jake said maybe he'd try to find Milo another Spiderman sticker the next day. I thought, that sounded like a good idea. Then I thought, maybe after swimming I'd take the kids to the store and see if we could find a Spiderman sticker.
Then I slept on it, and woke up, and realized oh no, that's actually a terrible idea. As much as I want to make Milo feel better about his sticker tearing, I don't think that us fixing the problem for him the very next day would be good for him. It's better for Milo to experience the sadness of tearing his sticker, no matter how much that stinks, and then get over it on his own without his parents making it all better right away. I think I read that somewhere in a parenting book. That parents make the mistake of fixing their kids' problems, so that kids never experience the little heartbreaks that are a natural part of life, and then you end up with bigger kids and adolescents and adults who are completely unequipped to handle any hardship whatsoever. So if your kid is being careless and drops his ice cream cone, parents might be tempted to just get them another one right away instead of letting the kid experience the disappointment of losing his ice cream. So on reflection I decided to not get Milo another Spiderman sticker, and let him just get over it. We comforted him with hugs and cuddling, but we didn't make the problem go away by replacing his sticker.
Anyway, he hasn't forgotten about it today, but he seems more or less over it.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Summer Sunday
Oh, hey, you know what happens when you go over to your friend's house on a Friday night and let your kids run around wild with their kids all night, and they end up staying up until 11:30 p.m. because all the parents were having too much fun drinking wine and beer? We get one totally unaffected child, and one complete mess of a child. Nora was fine on Saturday and even skipped her nap. Milo was a disaster - anything less than his daily 14 hours of sleep and he falls apart completely!
Funny phrase that Milo has learned that he uses in a totally inappropriate way: "Doubt it." So, like, I'll say, "Nora, what'd you do in school today?" She'll say, "I made a painting." And Milo will say, "DOUBT IT."
Tonight Jake grilled some black bean burgers on the grill and then we ate dinner outside on the patio table, which the kids thought was the most fun ever. I do enjoy listening to the cicadas just getting started and looking around at the sky and the trees while eating dinner.
I had a very interesting conversation with my friend, my friend who is super powerful and impressive in a way I'll never, ever be. (She's on leave from our department to do a stint in the white house - she's on the President's advisory panel.) Anyway, she and her husband are kind of ticked off at the lousy treatment my area is getting from our department, and her take on it was that I have a choice. Choice one, I can continue to eschew the political bureaucrat's lifestyle and just hunker down and do my stuff and, at best, cultivate a culture of personality where I'll have my own cohort of grad students every year but not much more. Choice two, I can be all political and shit, having strategy meetings with key members of the department, meeting with them one on one and sucking up to them before important votes to make sure I've got the votes on my side, and focus on building not just my career, but a program. In other words, thinking programatically instead of individually. Because in our department, that's how you have to operate in order to make any real progress at all. This includes things like going to certain public meetings and lectures when the dean will be there, sucking up to her and provosts and other administrators, and basically building up a cache of goodwill over time.
The reality is that as the senior member of my area, this should be Mentor's job, but he's not going to do it. So I can either choose to do it, and think big, or choose not to do it, and accept that I'll probably keep running into the same roadblocks year after year after year.
So...do I want to build a career, or do I want to build a program? Do I want to build and maintain an individual lab, or do I want to build and maintain a system?
I have been reflecting on the past year or so that I need a different kind of mentor now. Not a research mentor, but more like a mid-career mentor who can teach me how to deal with bad deans and frustrating bureaucracies. My friend's year and counting at the white house has taught her all of this stuff, and now I am getting this advice that is probably true and valuable advice. Of course, it's not at all what I want to hear.
Funny phrase that Milo has learned that he uses in a totally inappropriate way: "Doubt it." So, like, I'll say, "Nora, what'd you do in school today?" She'll say, "I made a painting." And Milo will say, "DOUBT IT."
Tonight Jake grilled some black bean burgers on the grill and then we ate dinner outside on the patio table, which the kids thought was the most fun ever. I do enjoy listening to the cicadas just getting started and looking around at the sky and the trees while eating dinner.
I had a very interesting conversation with my friend, my friend who is super powerful and impressive in a way I'll never, ever be. (She's on leave from our department to do a stint in the white house - she's on the President's advisory panel.) Anyway, she and her husband are kind of ticked off at the lousy treatment my area is getting from our department, and her take on it was that I have a choice. Choice one, I can continue to eschew the political bureaucrat's lifestyle and just hunker down and do my stuff and, at best, cultivate a culture of personality where I'll have my own cohort of grad students every year but not much more. Choice two, I can be all political and shit, having strategy meetings with key members of the department, meeting with them one on one and sucking up to them before important votes to make sure I've got the votes on my side, and focus on building not just my career, but a program. In other words, thinking programatically instead of individually. Because in our department, that's how you have to operate in order to make any real progress at all. This includes things like going to certain public meetings and lectures when the dean will be there, sucking up to her and provosts and other administrators, and basically building up a cache of goodwill over time.
The reality is that as the senior member of my area, this should be Mentor's job, but he's not going to do it. So I can either choose to do it, and think big, or choose not to do it, and accept that I'll probably keep running into the same roadblocks year after year after year.
So...do I want to build a career, or do I want to build a program? Do I want to build and maintain an individual lab, or do I want to build and maintain a system?
I have been reflecting on the past year or so that I need a different kind of mentor now. Not a research mentor, but more like a mid-career mentor who can teach me how to deal with bad deans and frustrating bureaucracies. My friend's year and counting at the white house has taught her all of this stuff, and now I am getting this advice that is probably true and valuable advice. Of course, it's not at all what I want to hear.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Personal Solutions to a Policy-Based Problem
Even though this article wasn't perfect I still really loved it. Not surprisingly everybody around here is talking about it in the halls. The title the editors assigned to the article is a bad one; it'd be better to have a title about how it's difficult to have a high-powered career and a family at the same time, or something like that. It's hard for men, too, if they want to actually see their families. But the article itself avoided the most typical, almost universal mistake that pretty much every publication on this topic makes: That of blaming women for the choices they make. (As if those choices were made in a vacuum.) Instead, Professor Slaughter recognizes that we're in a situation in which particular societal norms and institutional rules (or lack thereof) make a high-powered career and a humane life outside that career fundamentally incompatible. Women are responding to those pressures. That type of response (which can include stepping back or dropping out of the career stream) is rational, not selfish.
She argues for some concrete changes, things like redefining the timeline of what constitutes a successful career, making work hours and school hours more compatible with one another, enlisting buy in from men in charge, changing face time culture. I'd also argue for national policy changes that would bring us in line with the rest of the developed world: policies such as universal parental leave and state support for high-quality child care.
Here's the thing. There are two conflicting (for me) issues going on here, and I can see how they're in natural conflict. One issue that is very important to me is to respect the choices that individual women make for their lives, careers, and families. Sometimes that means not having kids and putting everything towards their careers. Sometimes that means having kids and choosing to stay home with their kids because their careers aren't compatible with their family needs. I think it's important to recognize that women make those decisions not in a vacuum, but in the context of a national set of policies and business cultures that fundamentally discourage high-powered careers for those with families. What needs to change is these policies and cultures - when that changes, more women -- and men who want to be active fathers -- will have the freedom and opportunity to lean into their careers more.
However, the conflict comes from this inescapable truth: nothing is going to change unless women (or more broadly, feminists, women and men) force those changes to come about. And the only way people can force those changes is to reach positions of leadership in business, academia, medicine, and government. So the tension comes from the fact that unfortunately, somebody's got to do this job, the job of sacrificing to make it big in their careers, so that they can get enough power to enact real change. To make it better for the people who come after us. So I simultaneously respect and understand the choices that people make now to not partake in a system that's stacked against anybody with a family, while also acknowledging that it's important to fight against that, to strive for ambitious careers so that we can reach the levels necessary to have enough power to change things for the better.
Because let's face it. Most of the folks who are currently in the top positions in business, academics, and government are straight, white males. They are the very people who already benefit from our current system. They have people at home taking care of their household needs and families for them (my dad once referred to this as his "procurement officer", by which he meant, his wife). They are the wealthy, they are the ones in power, and people in power will not enact policies that will reduce their hold on that power and wealth.
We need feminists, by which I mean people concerned with the values of social justice for all people, to achieve career success and leadership positions. We need those people to enact policies that promote the values of social justice over the values of short-term profits. A more humane work setting may not necessarily be at odds, at all times, with long-term profitability. (See the article I linked above for a brief discussion on some research studies suggesting that company cultures that support work/life balance and flexible schedules can actually do better in the mid to long term). If we keep opting out, then who is going to do this? Not the people we've got in charge now.
So it's difficult, because I find myself giving advice to individual young women that relies on specific, individual solutions / workarounds, while simultaneously recognizing that it shouldn't be that way. That it's not fair that it's that way. But unfortunately, that's the way it is right now, and sometimes you gotta live with the way it is.
************* Wavy Memory Lines*************
I was recently at a conference in Savannah and a young grad student there wanted to know all about my decision to have kids on the tenure track at an R1 university. A group of about 12 of us were walking around the town, and we stopped at an ice cream shop to eat ice cream cones and chat. She is a very bright and articulate student. Given where and what she's studying, I can tell that she'll be poised to take a high-profile job, should she choose to do so. But she was already talking about maybe taking a non-R1 job so that she could have a family. She asked me how I did it.
I wish I could have told her that I did it because my university had a great parental leave policy (it has none) and high-quality subsidized childcare (it has none) and a department chair that strongly supported a flexible work-life balance (hah). But what did I have that helped me out? Individual privileges, some which are pure luck, some which maybe you can try to engineer a little bit. One privilege was having an area chair who is a super involved dad, who regularly leaves early to pick his son up from school, and who therefore set a culture in our area where prioritizing family needs is accepted. I also have a departmental culture that doesn't care at all about face time, but cares only about productivity. That's something she could investigate when she's on the market. A department that allows flexibility (but still demands high productivity) can enable you to work odd hours, hours at night, during your kids' naps, during the weekend. I worked a lot of hours on the tenure track, but they were at a lot of odd times, which helped me spend time with my kids.
But the biggest thing that made a difference, and Professor Slaughter mentioned this too, was who I married. Again, this shouldn't be what matters for a young woman interested in building a career, but given our current situation, it really does.
One time, before I was with Jake, I was with somebody else who wanted to get married and have kids, like, yesterday. His job was his life, and he routinely sacrificed everything, including his own health, for the job. It was clear that I came a distant second, but I had my own career to focus on too, so it was okay. But when we talked about having kids, he'd say stuff like, "I don't want my kids in daycare." And I'd be all, uh, are you planning to quit work then? Oh, absolutely not. Of course not. I'd say, are you asking me to stop my career then? "Oh no," he'd say, "I value your career." Okay, I'd ask him, then how are we going to take care of these hypothetical kids? He had no answer.
I knew that if I went down that road with him, I'd be the one responsible for everything. Doctor's appointments, bedtime routines. He'd come home at 11 p.m. and I'd get more and more resentful. The idea of him moving somewhere if I got a good job in another state wouldn't have been an option. Sure, he'd take out the garbage, mow the lawn, and fix the toilet -- he'd pull his weight, but subtly, his career would be the priority. And that's not the way you get tenure. You can't have kids, be at an R1, and get tenure when your partner's career takes precedence over everything. Something would have to give.
Anyhoo, I ended up marrying Jake and from the first day I met him, it was clear that he liked the fact that I was a professor and admired what I did for a living. Jake grew up with a mother who worked, and who was also a very strong voice in the family, and he had an inherent respect for the authority and autonomy of women. In his eyes, my career was the most important thing. That is tied up in the fact that he didn't want to have to move, and he knew that if I didn't get tenure, we could kiss our house/neighborhood/town goodbye.
Having twins was also a lucky happening because when you have two infants, there is no primary parent. Both parents have to be a primary parent. This set Jake up in that role from pretty much the day our kids were born. And I know without a doubt that I wouldn't have gotten tenure if Jake's attitude had been different. I got tenure because he really stepped up to the plate. He never complained about the trips I took. He never complained when I had to work late. He handled it, and he did it willingly because getting tenure was our goal as a family. And so I explained those things when I advised this grad student to be careful about who she married. Marrying a feminist can make all the difference if you want to both have a family and try to succeed in your career.
Now that I have tenure, I feel like it is time to shift the balance again, to make sure that he is getting what he needs in his career too. That is part of the reason why I turned down 2 jobs last year, both which would have been better for my career than my current job. But it wouldn't have been better for our family as a whole. Jake, meanwhile, continues to keep our family in mind when he makes decisions. He still struggles with whether his current job is the best one for him, but one thing that keeps him in it is that it allows him to spend more time with the kids. He knows that some of the alternate jobs out there would take him away from the family for more time each day than he feels is acceptable.
And no this is not fair. What about single parents? What about lots of other situations where people don't exactly have a choice? It's a privilege. The fact that I had Jake on my side was an unearned privilege helping me out. That's why I don't think advice like "marry the right person" should stand in for what should REALLY happen, which is change our policies and practices as a nation. Then who you marry would matter a lot less, and that's the way it should be. So it's sort of annoying advice to give, because it's basically saying "set yourself up to be as privileged a person as possible" -- but right now, it's all we've got. And frankly, I want this grad student to do that, because I want her to take the highest-reaching job she can get. And I want her to become a dean, and to take a government stint, and to then shape policy in a way that'll make it more humane for everybody else.
************* End Wavy Memory Lines **************
I don't think these tensions are just about women who have children. I think it affects almost all of us. A lot of men these days, especially in my generation and younger, also want to be a part of their kids' lives growing up. A lot of people who don't have kids still have other important commitments outside of work. Their needs are important too, and we could all benefit from changing the work culture to one that values a humane work week and flexible solutions.
And me? I'm not in some high-powered career, I don't have a stint at the white house, I'm not in administration. I'm just an associate professor humming along doing my stuff. But I do feel like a lot of us can do at least something even if we're not as high powered as the author of the article, me included. So now that I have tenure, I have decided to tackle one concrete thing on campus, which is a policy change. I am joining a committee to try to enact a policy that would grant everybody paid family leave on campus. I will work to accomplish that one little thing, and after that, set my sights on the next thing. I gotta use all of this privilege I've got for something, to try to make it better for everybody who comes next.
She argues for some concrete changes, things like redefining the timeline of what constitutes a successful career, making work hours and school hours more compatible with one another, enlisting buy in from men in charge, changing face time culture. I'd also argue for national policy changes that would bring us in line with the rest of the developed world: policies such as universal parental leave and state support for high-quality child care.
Here's the thing. There are two conflicting (for me) issues going on here, and I can see how they're in natural conflict. One issue that is very important to me is to respect the choices that individual women make for their lives, careers, and families. Sometimes that means not having kids and putting everything towards their careers. Sometimes that means having kids and choosing to stay home with their kids because their careers aren't compatible with their family needs. I think it's important to recognize that women make those decisions not in a vacuum, but in the context of a national set of policies and business cultures that fundamentally discourage high-powered careers for those with families. What needs to change is these policies and cultures - when that changes, more women -- and men who want to be active fathers -- will have the freedom and opportunity to lean into their careers more.
However, the conflict comes from this inescapable truth: nothing is going to change unless women (or more broadly, feminists, women and men) force those changes to come about. And the only way people can force those changes is to reach positions of leadership in business, academia, medicine, and government. So the tension comes from the fact that unfortunately, somebody's got to do this job, the job of sacrificing to make it big in their careers, so that they can get enough power to enact real change. To make it better for the people who come after us. So I simultaneously respect and understand the choices that people make now to not partake in a system that's stacked against anybody with a family, while also acknowledging that it's important to fight against that, to strive for ambitious careers so that we can reach the levels necessary to have enough power to change things for the better.
Because let's face it. Most of the folks who are currently in the top positions in business, academics, and government are straight, white males. They are the very people who already benefit from our current system. They have people at home taking care of their household needs and families for them (my dad once referred to this as his "procurement officer", by which he meant, his wife). They are the wealthy, they are the ones in power, and people in power will not enact policies that will reduce their hold on that power and wealth.
We need feminists, by which I mean people concerned with the values of social justice for all people, to achieve career success and leadership positions. We need those people to enact policies that promote the values of social justice over the values of short-term profits. A more humane work setting may not necessarily be at odds, at all times, with long-term profitability. (See the article I linked above for a brief discussion on some research studies suggesting that company cultures that support work/life balance and flexible schedules can actually do better in the mid to long term). If we keep opting out, then who is going to do this? Not the people we've got in charge now.
So it's difficult, because I find myself giving advice to individual young women that relies on specific, individual solutions / workarounds, while simultaneously recognizing that it shouldn't be that way. That it's not fair that it's that way. But unfortunately, that's the way it is right now, and sometimes you gotta live with the way it is.
************* Wavy Memory Lines*************
I was recently at a conference in Savannah and a young grad student there wanted to know all about my decision to have kids on the tenure track at an R1 university. A group of about 12 of us were walking around the town, and we stopped at an ice cream shop to eat ice cream cones and chat. She is a very bright and articulate student. Given where and what she's studying, I can tell that she'll be poised to take a high-profile job, should she choose to do so. But she was already talking about maybe taking a non-R1 job so that she could have a family. She asked me how I did it.
I wish I could have told her that I did it because my university had a great parental leave policy (it has none) and high-quality subsidized childcare (it has none) and a department chair that strongly supported a flexible work-life balance (hah). But what did I have that helped me out? Individual privileges, some which are pure luck, some which maybe you can try to engineer a little bit. One privilege was having an area chair who is a super involved dad, who regularly leaves early to pick his son up from school, and who therefore set a culture in our area where prioritizing family needs is accepted. I also have a departmental culture that doesn't care at all about face time, but cares only about productivity. That's something she could investigate when she's on the market. A department that allows flexibility (but still demands high productivity) can enable you to work odd hours, hours at night, during your kids' naps, during the weekend. I worked a lot of hours on the tenure track, but they were at a lot of odd times, which helped me spend time with my kids.
But the biggest thing that made a difference, and Professor Slaughter mentioned this too, was who I married. Again, this shouldn't be what matters for a young woman interested in building a career, but given our current situation, it really does.
One time, before I was with Jake, I was with somebody else who wanted to get married and have kids, like, yesterday. His job was his life, and he routinely sacrificed everything, including his own health, for the job. It was clear that I came a distant second, but I had my own career to focus on too, so it was okay. But when we talked about having kids, he'd say stuff like, "I don't want my kids in daycare." And I'd be all, uh, are you planning to quit work then? Oh, absolutely not. Of course not. I'd say, are you asking me to stop my career then? "Oh no," he'd say, "I value your career." Okay, I'd ask him, then how are we going to take care of these hypothetical kids? He had no answer.
I knew that if I went down that road with him, I'd be the one responsible for everything. Doctor's appointments, bedtime routines. He'd come home at 11 p.m. and I'd get more and more resentful. The idea of him moving somewhere if I got a good job in another state wouldn't have been an option. Sure, he'd take out the garbage, mow the lawn, and fix the toilet -- he'd pull his weight, but subtly, his career would be the priority. And that's not the way you get tenure. You can't have kids, be at an R1, and get tenure when your partner's career takes precedence over everything. Something would have to give.
Anyhoo, I ended up marrying Jake and from the first day I met him, it was clear that he liked the fact that I was a professor and admired what I did for a living. Jake grew up with a mother who worked, and who was also a very strong voice in the family, and he had an inherent respect for the authority and autonomy of women. In his eyes, my career was the most important thing. That is tied up in the fact that he didn't want to have to move, and he knew that if I didn't get tenure, we could kiss our house/neighborhood/town goodbye.
Having twins was also a lucky happening because when you have two infants, there is no primary parent. Both parents have to be a primary parent. This set Jake up in that role from pretty much the day our kids were born. And I know without a doubt that I wouldn't have gotten tenure if Jake's attitude had been different. I got tenure because he really stepped up to the plate. He never complained about the trips I took. He never complained when I had to work late. He handled it, and he did it willingly because getting tenure was our goal as a family. And so I explained those things when I advised this grad student to be careful about who she married. Marrying a feminist can make all the difference if you want to both have a family and try to succeed in your career.
Now that I have tenure, I feel like it is time to shift the balance again, to make sure that he is getting what he needs in his career too. That is part of the reason why I turned down 2 jobs last year, both which would have been better for my career than my current job. But it wouldn't have been better for our family as a whole. Jake, meanwhile, continues to keep our family in mind when he makes decisions. He still struggles with whether his current job is the best one for him, but one thing that keeps him in it is that it allows him to spend more time with the kids. He knows that some of the alternate jobs out there would take him away from the family for more time each day than he feels is acceptable.
And no this is not fair. What about single parents? What about lots of other situations where people don't exactly have a choice? It's a privilege. The fact that I had Jake on my side was an unearned privilege helping me out. That's why I don't think advice like "marry the right person" should stand in for what should REALLY happen, which is change our policies and practices as a nation. Then who you marry would matter a lot less, and that's the way it should be. So it's sort of annoying advice to give, because it's basically saying "set yourself up to be as privileged a person as possible" -- but right now, it's all we've got. And frankly, I want this grad student to do that, because I want her to take the highest-reaching job she can get. And I want her to become a dean, and to take a government stint, and to then shape policy in a way that'll make it more humane for everybody else.
************* End Wavy Memory Lines **************
I don't think these tensions are just about women who have children. I think it affects almost all of us. A lot of men these days, especially in my generation and younger, also want to be a part of their kids' lives growing up. A lot of people who don't have kids still have other important commitments outside of work. Their needs are important too, and we could all benefit from changing the work culture to one that values a humane work week and flexible solutions.
And me? I'm not in some high-powered career, I don't have a stint at the white house, I'm not in administration. I'm just an associate professor humming along doing my stuff. But I do feel like a lot of us can do at least something even if we're not as high powered as the author of the article, me included. So now that I have tenure, I have decided to tackle one concrete thing on campus, which is a policy change. I am joining a committee to try to enact a policy that would grant everybody paid family leave on campus. I will work to accomplish that one little thing, and after that, set my sights on the next thing. I gotta use all of this privilege I've got for something, to try to make it better for everybody who comes next.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Good Things
Good Thing #1: Final proofs of our book have been completed and reviewed and now the manuscript is off to the publisher! So it is officially done and the next time I see it, it'll be an actual book. I have co-authored three books now for this particular series but this is the first one for which I'm the first author. I'm pretty psyched.
Good Thing #2: Telling my grad student who led the charge on a particular analysis that her analysis is what our intellectual mentor in this area of work liked best about my talk last week. My grad student was so pleased and excited to get that kind of recognition. (It was well deserved - she's totally awesome.) Later, I got four requests from different researchers for a copy of our presentation and the best part about that was taking the time to stop and thank my team of grad students (and one new professor who has been continuing with the project via skype). Their work has been really outstanding, and it feels great to reflect on that, and to make sure they know it and know how much I appreciate them. I am so lucky to have these amazing, amazing students.
Good Thing #3: Summer foods. Anything with the herbs I've got growing in my garden - lots of basil. Lots of cilantro. Today it's roasted peppers with garlic, red wine vinegar, olive oil, flat parsley, fresh ball mozzarella, and capers. Soooo good.
Good Thing #4: The heat wave has broken. Pleasant low 80s temps instead of weirdly hot mid-nineties temps.
Kids: Nora seems to have recovered from whatever strange affliction was plaguing her. She's resumed her equilibrium just in time for Milo to start having a rough time. I wonder if he is getting sick; he's been very teary today over very small things (like losing a rubber band).
It's 8:45 p.m., an hour after their bedtime, and I can still hear Nora marching around upstairs in her room and singing songs to herself.
Last night we had a storm. I woke up from the storm. Then I heard our door open. Nora crept into our room. She started to settle down at my feet, like a dog, and I said, "Why don't you come up here with us?" So she slept between us. This reminds me of how far we've come. A few years ago a storm like that would have meant two crying babies, us up and out of our room, comforting them in their room. Exhausting. Now, I don't even have to get out of bed - they come to us. So nice! And to top it off, Milo slept through the whole thing. Even better.
Good Thing #2: Telling my grad student who led the charge on a particular analysis that her analysis is what our intellectual mentor in this area of work liked best about my talk last week. My grad student was so pleased and excited to get that kind of recognition. (It was well deserved - she's totally awesome.) Later, I got four requests from different researchers for a copy of our presentation and the best part about that was taking the time to stop and thank my team of grad students (and one new professor who has been continuing with the project via skype). Their work has been really outstanding, and it feels great to reflect on that, and to make sure they know it and know how much I appreciate them. I am so lucky to have these amazing, amazing students.
Good Thing #3: Summer foods. Anything with the herbs I've got growing in my garden - lots of basil. Lots of cilantro. Today it's roasted peppers with garlic, red wine vinegar, olive oil, flat parsley, fresh ball mozzarella, and capers. Soooo good.
Good Thing #4: The heat wave has broken. Pleasant low 80s temps instead of weirdly hot mid-nineties temps.
Kids: Nora seems to have recovered from whatever strange affliction was plaguing her. She's resumed her equilibrium just in time for Milo to start having a rough time. I wonder if he is getting sick; he's been very teary today over very small things (like losing a rubber band).
It's 8:45 p.m., an hour after their bedtime, and I can still hear Nora marching around upstairs in her room and singing songs to herself.
Last night we had a storm. I woke up from the storm. Then I heard our door open. Nora crept into our room. She started to settle down at my feet, like a dog, and I said, "Why don't you come up here with us?" So she slept between us. This reminds me of how far we've come. A few years ago a storm like that would have meant two crying babies, us up and out of our room, comforting them in their room. Exhausting. Now, I don't even have to get out of bed - they come to us. So nice! And to top it off, Milo slept through the whole thing. Even better.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Wow!
That grant that our PO told us we almost certainly weren't going to get? Well, today we talked to her, and she's sending us questions. (That's a VERY good sign indicating the likelihood of getting the grant after all). !!! This is very exciting! The down side is that it's for a much reduced budget - in fact, only 1/3 of our original budget. However, 1/3 of our original budget will still yield a 3-year grant that has a larger budget than my current 5-year CAREER award, so it's not anything to sneeze at!
This is a really amazing and surprising turn of events!
Today is our home day and Milo & Nora had their 2nd swimming lesson of the summer this morning. It went well, they both like it and are putting their heads in the water. Both jumped into the pool on their own without holding the teacher's hand! And they look so cute in their little swim caps and goggles.
This is a really amazing and surprising turn of events!
Today is our home day and Milo & Nora had their 2nd swimming lesson of the summer this morning. It went well, they both like it and are putting their heads in the water. Both jumped into the pool on their own without holding the teacher's hand! And they look so cute in their little swim caps and goggles.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
CALGONE TAKE ME AWAY
So, Nora has been on an epic morning rage the last two mornings. Four days with her grandparents managed to turn her into a total maniac. Or maybe it's just what she's like now, and I'm searching around looking to place the blame on Jake's parents because it's easy to do. But whatever it is, jeez, I have had it with that kid.
She's just completely defiant. She won't do what she doesn't want to do, she thinks it's acceptable to say no to me (or to scream it), she argues and talks back at every turn, and she just digs her heels in further and further. Honestly, this kid has been pushing me to the brink since she was an infant and she hasn't stopped yet. At times it's even hard not to laugh, because she's trying to use adult ways of arguing in a way she doesn't quite understand yet. I'll tell her I've had enough and I won't tolerate any arguments. "But Mom," she whines, "That's not the point!"
I wasn't laughing, though, when she went nuts at school and hauled off and hit me this morning. She hasn't done anything like that in a year or more.
Mornings are the hardest because I can't defuse the situation by separating us and putting her in her room to cool down. Instead, we are forced together because we must get dressed and out the door and to school. And the problem is, when a punishment is imposed for her hideously bad behavior, that's not the end of it. She'll argue it. And argue it. And argue it and argue it and argue it and argue it. Seriously, if I didn't physically remove myself from her presence, I think she would argue it all day long. Where the hell did this kid come from? And it's not like I argue back or respond or ever change my mind. I don't. I don't acquiesce to her arguments, ever. All the parenting books tell you that you need to be consistent and not back down and they'll learn to respect those boundaries. Those books have never met Nora.
I was never allowed to talk back to my parents. That resulted in things like writing "I will not talk back to my mother" 50 times. But Nora is too young to write lines. And oddly enough, despite me informing her that talking back to her parents is not done, she still seems to think this is acceptable. Where does she get this kind of defiance? Honestly. We are not a spanking family, so all I can think to do is put her in her room until she's willing to drop it. But again, that doesn't work when you're in the car on the way to school.
All I can do is reflect back on how, at least things are better now than they were a year ago. The meltdowns happen, but they last 10 minutes instead of 3 hours. She is capable of internally defusing now, and can change her mood in a few minutes, whereas when she was 2 and 3 she couldn't do that and seemed trapped in a cycle of continuous escalation that would literally last for several hours. (Of hell.)
The thing is, I am not an easygoing, lax parent. We have boundaries and standards and rules and I'd say I'm probably more strict than pretty much any of my peers. Pretty much all of my friends let their kids do stuff that I don't let my kids do. Having two very temperamentally different children has taught me how important temperament is in contrast to parenting behaviors. They both matter, but I never realized how is driven by temperament.
She's just completely defiant. She won't do what she doesn't want to do, she thinks it's acceptable to say no to me (or to scream it), she argues and talks back at every turn, and she just digs her heels in further and further. Honestly, this kid has been pushing me to the brink since she was an infant and she hasn't stopped yet. At times it's even hard not to laugh, because she's trying to use adult ways of arguing in a way she doesn't quite understand yet. I'll tell her I've had enough and I won't tolerate any arguments. "But Mom," she whines, "That's not the point!"
I wasn't laughing, though, when she went nuts at school and hauled off and hit me this morning. She hasn't done anything like that in a year or more.
Mornings are the hardest because I can't defuse the situation by separating us and putting her in her room to cool down. Instead, we are forced together because we must get dressed and out the door and to school. And the problem is, when a punishment is imposed for her hideously bad behavior, that's not the end of it. She'll argue it. And argue it. And argue it and argue it and argue it and argue it. Seriously, if I didn't physically remove myself from her presence, I think she would argue it all day long. Where the hell did this kid come from? And it's not like I argue back or respond or ever change my mind. I don't. I don't acquiesce to her arguments, ever. All the parenting books tell you that you need to be consistent and not back down and they'll learn to respect those boundaries. Those books have never met Nora.
I was never allowed to talk back to my parents. That resulted in things like writing "I will not talk back to my mother" 50 times. But Nora is too young to write lines. And oddly enough, despite me informing her that talking back to her parents is not done, she still seems to think this is acceptable. Where does she get this kind of defiance? Honestly. We are not a spanking family, so all I can think to do is put her in her room until she's willing to drop it. But again, that doesn't work when you're in the car on the way to school.
All I can do is reflect back on how, at least things are better now than they were a year ago. The meltdowns happen, but they last 10 minutes instead of 3 hours. She is capable of internally defusing now, and can change her mood in a few minutes, whereas when she was 2 and 3 she couldn't do that and seemed trapped in a cycle of continuous escalation that would literally last for several hours. (Of hell.)
The thing is, I am not an easygoing, lax parent. We have boundaries and standards and rules and I'd say I'm probably more strict than pretty much any of my peers. Pretty much all of my friends let their kids do stuff that I don't let my kids do. Having two very temperamentally different children has taught me how important temperament is in contrast to parenting behaviors. They both matter, but I never realized how is driven by temperament.
Monday, June 18, 2012
A Complicated Love
As my plane was preparing to land in my town, I looked out the window, as I always do, watching the landscape get larger and larger. Inadvertently, my pupils dilated and my heart swelled as I took in how beautiful everything was. I watched us sail over the rolling farmlands, the woods, the lakes, all the lush greenery that is so abundant this time of year. I can't help it. I feel so betrayed by my state these days, but I continue to love it so much.
When I first moved here 8 years ago, I was coming from southern California. I wouldn't call it an unfriendly part of the country, but it was fairly anonymous. I lived in a big city and didn't know any of my neighbors. Thanksgiving dinners were more about elegance than community. I locked the door to my apartment to go running. Heck, I locked the door to take out the trash.
Then I came here, and found myself frequently surprised by little interactions and events that reminded me how different things were. When I went to the corner store, the man behind the counter chatted with me, welcomed me to the area, and gave me advice. When I passed somebody on the sidewalk, or even in the street in my car, they'd wave. Even if I didn't know them. People had me over for dinner, people I hardly knew. I sat in retired colleague's kitchen as his wife prepared salmon and asparagus, chatting about what the Wednesday noon siren means (preparing for tornados). When I bought my house, the owners apologized at the closing because they didn't have the key to the front door. "We haven't locked it in 9 years, and we couldn't find it to save our lives," they told me. After the closing, I rushed over to my new house. I went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge. There, in the shining, spotlessly clean refrigerator, was a box with a bow on it. Inside the box I found pastries from the local pastry shop, and a note saying, "Enjoy your new home!"
And I met Jake, right away, and he offered to show me around town, right away. "How nice," I thought. "A new friend already! People are so friendly here!"
I was charmed, I was seduced by the culture of this new place. I marveled at things that I hadn't known since childhood, like fireflies in the evening, and cicadas at night. I fell in love with my new surroundings and with Jake at the same time. They became intertwined. As summer wound its way into autumn I marveled at how he and his family and friends all knew the same German drinking songs -- and they sang them, together, loudly, at Oktoberfest. I marveled at how they all knew how to polka, and actually did it. More, I marveled at the close family network I observed, where cousins and aunts and uncles all traveled to get together for people's birthdays and anniversaries.
It was charming that the local NPR station carried not only Talk of the Nation, but also statewide shows on insects and native plants, on home repair, on wildlife. I felt like I had wandered into a scene from A Prairie Home Companion. I still feel that way. And of course, yes, all of this is just a caricature. The state I live in and its people are vastly more complicated than the rosy picture I like to imagine. But I ignorantly allowed myself to live with the oversimplified version, because it suited me.
During my first fall term here, the other new faculty and I formed a cohort and we would go out for drinks and dinner, getting to know one another and our new town. All of us were from either the east coast or the west coast. All of the other faculty complained a lot about our town; its backwardness, its smallness, its provincial ways. And in many ways, it is all of those things. We are a small city of 230,000 people. It feels bigger than it is culturally, because we have both the flagship university and the state capitol here, but it was definitely the smallest city I had lived in. I too had wondered how I would react to it. Would I feel stifled? My fellow faculty members felt stifled, and they complained. Somehow it offended me. I felt protective of my new home state, maybe because it was wrapped up in Jake, a native of the state, with his peculiar mannerisms and regional speech patterns.
What I found was that the pace of life flowed differently, and you had to slow down to notice and appreciate what came up in that flow. The rhythm of the seasons gradually took hold of me. Jake's grandfather brought us brussels sprouts in October. We ate squash and soups in the fall, we ate tomatoes and peppers in the summer. In the winter, we hole up, turning inwards, working more. In the spring, everybody emerges, we become more social. We go out more, we hold parties, we sit outside on cafe patios. We barbecue. We spend winter afternoons making snowmen and ice skating, and we drink hot chocolate. We spend summer weekends at the lake, fishing and swimming, drifting on the pontoon boat as we let our fingers lazily drag across the surface of the water.
How can I not love all of this?
But oversimplified stereotypes cannot endure, and of course there is another side to this state. It's a side I've mostly ignored, which is easy to do in our liberal oasis of a town, but it grew harder and harder to ignore, and became impossible to ignore after the failed recall.
This is the side where friends of friends think it's okay to make racist jokes. It's the side where nobody in the extended family will use my last name. It's the side where my undergraduates, who are always white, aren't interested in learning about ways to better connect to students of color in their own classrooms. It's the side where vegetarian means you still eat fish and shrimp, where a college education is uncommon, and where people describe visitors from the state south of us with words like "bastards".
In the past year there was a This American Life episode about the political upheaval in our state. The general theme of the episode was that people here are so nice, and the upheaval threatens that niceness. They interviewed some people who were campaigning against a local candidate, and they asked those people to discuss the candidate they were trying to oust. The campaigners said, "We don't think she's right for the office. I mean, she's a good mom..." The interviewer noted how remarkable that is, that the strongest thing they could say was that they thought she wasn't quite right, but had to couple that statement with the remark that they thought she was a good mom.
They recorded a contentious meeting that turned nasty, with hecklers, and then you hear one woman in the background call out, "We're NICE in [our state]!"
But what I've witnessed hasn't been nice. Recently we traveled through small towns to attend a wedding. Every other house had a pro governor sign in front of it. There was a giant billboard with the message that our current governor is working for the entire state, not just the "privileged few". That's how teachers are characterized here now. As the privileged few. That is not nice. In a small town 45 minutes south of us, somebody distributed anonymous flyers attacking teachers in general. That is not nice. None of this is nice.
Intellectually, I understand that of course our state is deeply complex, like any. The farmers who traveled down to the capitol to march on the square come from the same state as their neighbors who thought there was nothing wrong with repealing the equal pay act. The people on my street who shoveled my sidewalk and brought me meals come from the same state as the guy who called in to the local radio program complaining that state workers are spoiled and need to pay their fair share. The family members who gave me treasured clothing and jewelry items belonging to my husband's grandmother -- before Jake and I were even married -- are the same family members who cannot completely hide their racism, their misogyny, and their anti-semitism.
Ours is a community oriented, family oriented culture. I didn't grow up in a culture like that. I have been more welcomed and integrated into Jake's complicated, deeply flawed extended family than I ever was in my own biological family. I grew up in the relative anonymity of the west coast, and then I moved to a town where nobody is anonymous. Everybody knows your story, and that is simultaneously comforting and stifling. I feel so angry, so, so angry at what has happened over the past year and a half. When I reflect on it, I think that I feel much more angry than I would have felt over the outcome of a similar election when I lived in, say, California, because here it feels deeply personal. And I, like many like me who have adopted this place as our own, allowed myself to feel a sense of betrayal. I allowed myself to become seduced by some aspects of this place, without fully understanding everything about the complex, intricate culture and history of the people who live here.
You can't stay in love with a fantasy forever. Eventually, the real parts come out, and the story is messier than whatever rosy picture you concocted. And that's where I am now. Sad, really sad, and still angry as well. But that hasn't made me stop loving.
When I first moved here 8 years ago, I was coming from southern California. I wouldn't call it an unfriendly part of the country, but it was fairly anonymous. I lived in a big city and didn't know any of my neighbors. Thanksgiving dinners were more about elegance than community. I locked the door to my apartment to go running. Heck, I locked the door to take out the trash.
Then I came here, and found myself frequently surprised by little interactions and events that reminded me how different things were. When I went to the corner store, the man behind the counter chatted with me, welcomed me to the area, and gave me advice. When I passed somebody on the sidewalk, or even in the street in my car, they'd wave. Even if I didn't know them. People had me over for dinner, people I hardly knew. I sat in retired colleague's kitchen as his wife prepared salmon and asparagus, chatting about what the Wednesday noon siren means (preparing for tornados). When I bought my house, the owners apologized at the closing because they didn't have the key to the front door. "We haven't locked it in 9 years, and we couldn't find it to save our lives," they told me. After the closing, I rushed over to my new house. I went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge. There, in the shining, spotlessly clean refrigerator, was a box with a bow on it. Inside the box I found pastries from the local pastry shop, and a note saying, "Enjoy your new home!"
And I met Jake, right away, and he offered to show me around town, right away. "How nice," I thought. "A new friend already! People are so friendly here!"
I was charmed, I was seduced by the culture of this new place. I marveled at things that I hadn't known since childhood, like fireflies in the evening, and cicadas at night. I fell in love with my new surroundings and with Jake at the same time. They became intertwined. As summer wound its way into autumn I marveled at how he and his family and friends all knew the same German drinking songs -- and they sang them, together, loudly, at Oktoberfest. I marveled at how they all knew how to polka, and actually did it. More, I marveled at the close family network I observed, where cousins and aunts and uncles all traveled to get together for people's birthdays and anniversaries.
It was charming that the local NPR station carried not only Talk of the Nation, but also statewide shows on insects and native plants, on home repair, on wildlife. I felt like I had wandered into a scene from A Prairie Home Companion. I still feel that way. And of course, yes, all of this is just a caricature. The state I live in and its people are vastly more complicated than the rosy picture I like to imagine. But I ignorantly allowed myself to live with the oversimplified version, because it suited me.
During my first fall term here, the other new faculty and I formed a cohort and we would go out for drinks and dinner, getting to know one another and our new town. All of us were from either the east coast or the west coast. All of the other faculty complained a lot about our town; its backwardness, its smallness, its provincial ways. And in many ways, it is all of those things. We are a small city of 230,000 people. It feels bigger than it is culturally, because we have both the flagship university and the state capitol here, but it was definitely the smallest city I had lived in. I too had wondered how I would react to it. Would I feel stifled? My fellow faculty members felt stifled, and they complained. Somehow it offended me. I felt protective of my new home state, maybe because it was wrapped up in Jake, a native of the state, with his peculiar mannerisms and regional speech patterns.
What I found was that the pace of life flowed differently, and you had to slow down to notice and appreciate what came up in that flow. The rhythm of the seasons gradually took hold of me. Jake's grandfather brought us brussels sprouts in October. We ate squash and soups in the fall, we ate tomatoes and peppers in the summer. In the winter, we hole up, turning inwards, working more. In the spring, everybody emerges, we become more social. We go out more, we hold parties, we sit outside on cafe patios. We barbecue. We spend winter afternoons making snowmen and ice skating, and we drink hot chocolate. We spend summer weekends at the lake, fishing and swimming, drifting on the pontoon boat as we let our fingers lazily drag across the surface of the water.
How can I not love all of this?
But oversimplified stereotypes cannot endure, and of course there is another side to this state. It's a side I've mostly ignored, which is easy to do in our liberal oasis of a town, but it grew harder and harder to ignore, and became impossible to ignore after the failed recall.
This is the side where friends of friends think it's okay to make racist jokes. It's the side where nobody in the extended family will use my last name. It's the side where my undergraduates, who are always white, aren't interested in learning about ways to better connect to students of color in their own classrooms. It's the side where vegetarian means you still eat fish and shrimp, where a college education is uncommon, and where people describe visitors from the state south of us with words like "bastards".
In the past year there was a This American Life episode about the political upheaval in our state. The general theme of the episode was that people here are so nice, and the upheaval threatens that niceness. They interviewed some people who were campaigning against a local candidate, and they asked those people to discuss the candidate they were trying to oust. The campaigners said, "We don't think she's right for the office. I mean, she's a good mom..." The interviewer noted how remarkable that is, that the strongest thing they could say was that they thought she wasn't quite right, but had to couple that statement with the remark that they thought she was a good mom.
They recorded a contentious meeting that turned nasty, with hecklers, and then you hear one woman in the background call out, "We're NICE in [our state]!"
But what I've witnessed hasn't been nice. Recently we traveled through small towns to attend a wedding. Every other house had a pro governor sign in front of it. There was a giant billboard with the message that our current governor is working for the entire state, not just the "privileged few". That's how teachers are characterized here now. As the privileged few. That is not nice. In a small town 45 minutes south of us, somebody distributed anonymous flyers attacking teachers in general. That is not nice. None of this is nice.
Intellectually, I understand that of course our state is deeply complex, like any. The farmers who traveled down to the capitol to march on the square come from the same state as their neighbors who thought there was nothing wrong with repealing the equal pay act. The people on my street who shoveled my sidewalk and brought me meals come from the same state as the guy who called in to the local radio program complaining that state workers are spoiled and need to pay their fair share. The family members who gave me treasured clothing and jewelry items belonging to my husband's grandmother -- before Jake and I were even married -- are the same family members who cannot completely hide their racism, their misogyny, and their anti-semitism.
Ours is a community oriented, family oriented culture. I didn't grow up in a culture like that. I have been more welcomed and integrated into Jake's complicated, deeply flawed extended family than I ever was in my own biological family. I grew up in the relative anonymity of the west coast, and then I moved to a town where nobody is anonymous. Everybody knows your story, and that is simultaneously comforting and stifling. I feel so angry, so, so angry at what has happened over the past year and a half. When I reflect on it, I think that I feel much more angry than I would have felt over the outcome of a similar election when I lived in, say, California, because here it feels deeply personal. And I, like many like me who have adopted this place as our own, allowed myself to feel a sense of betrayal. I allowed myself to become seduced by some aspects of this place, without fully understanding everything about the complex, intricate culture and history of the people who live here.
You can't stay in love with a fantasy forever. Eventually, the real parts come out, and the story is messier than whatever rosy picture you concocted. And that's where I am now. Sad, really sad, and still angry as well. But that hasn't made me stop loving.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
This weekend I've been all alone because Jake and his parents took the kids up north on Friday afternoon when I was still flying back from DC. And yes, it has been awesome. I saw one friend for coffee but that was it; I wasn't motivated to get together with people because the one thing I don't have any of in my normal life is time alone. I'm pretty much never alone, and I'm a person who likes being alone. So I spent most of the weekend alone, doing some chores and work but also going for a long run, baking and cooking, reading a book (for pleasure, not for work!), and watching original Star Trek episodes.
Jake is a pie person much more than a cake person, so I made some handheld pies for him for Father's Day. I made blueberry, strawberry, and peach bourbon pies:
I also did some weeding and then tried to take some photos of our deck and patio in the event that we ever try to sell our house. It wasn't easy, though.
Maybe I should lay out the outdoor rug on the patio before photographing it, but getting that rug out is more of a 2-person job. (We generally bring it out for parties and stuff.) Also, the giant chicken wire cage around our planter isn't attractive, but there's no way in hell I'm messing with that thing after the effort that went into getting it into place!
I went to an open house Jake wanted me to check out, and another one that was near the one Jake was interested in. Both were a bust. The more time passes the harder it is to try to think about moving. There are so many kids Nora & Milo's age on this block. One thing about our neighborhood with the old houses is that the houses have a lot of character but most of them also have weird flaws. And if we're going to deal with weird flaws, we might as well deal with our own house's weird flaws.
Time is behaving so strangely for me now. As I get older, elapsed time feels like it has condensed so that the 8 years here in my house and in this town (almost exactly 8 years - I moved here near the end of June) feels about as long as the 4 years I spent in grad school. And with the house quiet and empty, it sure does remind me of the very first summer when I first moved into this house, sitting in the same spot I'm sitting now, boxes scattered about the floor. It could almost be then. I was alone a lot then, in my happy little house that felt huge.
Jake is a pie person much more than a cake person, so I made some handheld pies for him for Father's Day. I made blueberry, strawberry, and peach bourbon pies:
I also did some weeding and then tried to take some photos of our deck and patio in the event that we ever try to sell our house. It wasn't easy, though.
Maybe I should lay out the outdoor rug on the patio before photographing it, but getting that rug out is more of a 2-person job. (We generally bring it out for parties and stuff.) Also, the giant chicken wire cage around our planter isn't attractive, but there's no way in hell I'm messing with that thing after the effort that went into getting it into place!
I went to an open house Jake wanted me to check out, and another one that was near the one Jake was interested in. Both were a bust. The more time passes the harder it is to try to think about moving. There are so many kids Nora & Milo's age on this block. One thing about our neighborhood with the old houses is that the houses have a lot of character but most of them also have weird flaws. And if we're going to deal with weird flaws, we might as well deal with our own house's weird flaws.
Time is behaving so strangely for me now. As I get older, elapsed time feels like it has condensed so that the 8 years here in my house and in this town (almost exactly 8 years - I moved here near the end of June) feels about as long as the 4 years I spent in grad school. And with the house quiet and empty, it sure does remind me of the very first summer when I first moved into this house, sitting in the same spot I'm sitting now, boxes scattered about the floor. It could almost be then. I was alone a lot then, in my happy little house that felt huge.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Worth It
Conferences are about serendipity. It can be a dud, or it can be great, but usually the ways in which it ends up great are ways that you can't predict ahead of time.
I wasn't super psyched about this conference I just attended but it ended up okay in the end. One thing about conferences is that it usually involves giving one or more talks, and I hate giving talks. I do it all the time, because you have to as an academic, but I don't like it. I still get nervous, no matter how many talks I give. Conferences in which my talk happens on the first day are inevitably more fun than conferences in which my talk happens on the last day.
Anyway, some things that ended up being good about this conference was that I finally got a chance to talk to our program officer and learn more about what the deal is with our grant. I also floated a new idea for another grant I'm working on with some colleagues. She was into it, but really only into half of it, I could tell, so I think this is going to pose some challenges to us moving forward.
One interesting and upsetting thing is that we're struggling to get sufficient funding through these programs for math projects as opposed to science, technology, and engineering projects. Math isn't getting as much money and meanwhile our two math POs are leaving. I asked my PO what happens when she and the other one leave, and she remarked that probably somebody would end up in their roles who is a science person but has some connections to math. "This is very concerning for the future of math funding," she told me. Ugh. In a better funding year our grant would have been funded this time around.
Anyway, talking to the PO made the trip worth it. Another thing that made the trip worth it was my symposium today. I was very nervous about it because the theme of the symposium was for a research area that I'm just starting to get involved in. So I feel like something of a newbie in this area. Meanwhile, 4 of the 5 other presenter groups are super, super experienced in this area of research. Also, I was *extra* nervous because the content area that I was presenting on is the content area that this very well-known researcher, Dr. C, basically created about 20 years ago. I mean, the content area already existed, of course, but her work on the conceptual structures involved in building it still remains the standard to this day. So I'm going to get up and talk about my work in this area, HER area, and she was on the panel too! It's like talking about the Bible in front of God. Which I said, at the beginning of my talk. (Fortunately she laughed).
To add to the nervousness, this researcher has a particular reputation, and it's not a reputation of being all roses. So I was worried that she'd tear me apart.
So anyway I gave my talk with famous Dr. C sitting near me, and she was really nice. She kept making all of these comments to herself as I was talking, and they were encouraging comments so that bolstered my confidence. Then, after the talk, this other famous guy (who also has quite a reputation) asked a public question that was really a disguised attack. It was on all of us but he used me as an example, so it was specific to me. Also, his point was actually one I agree with completely, so I thought his point was valid. We just hadn't addressed that particular point in our talks because that wasn't the focus of those particular talks. Anyway, Dr. C responded and in her response she complimented a particular analysis I had done as addressing this guy's concerns. I also responded, and he pushed back on my remarks very strongly. It was difficult, but I didn't take it personally. (He's just like that.) Afterwards Dr. C told me that my talk had made her trip worth it, and she suggested a small working group where several of us get together to work on these common problems we're all tackling! That was super exciting. If a working group with Dr. C came out of this, it would totally make the whole trip worth it. It was also a relief that she responded well to my work given how worried I'd been about her response in particular. It's nice when people end up being...nice. Instead of jerky. I'm choosing to focus on the niceness of Dr. C rather than the aggressiveness of the other famous guy.
Then in the airport shuttle on the way to the airport, this random person I've never met turned to me as she was getting off and said, "I really liked your talk. I learned a lot, and I'm in SCIENCE!" The whole shuttle laughed, and somebody said "Never the twain shall meet!" (The joke being that math and science never talk to each other.)
The final thing that made the trip worth it -- dinner and wine with my friends last night. Lots of hilarity ensued.
I wasn't super psyched about this conference I just attended but it ended up okay in the end. One thing about conferences is that it usually involves giving one or more talks, and I hate giving talks. I do it all the time, because you have to as an academic, but I don't like it. I still get nervous, no matter how many talks I give. Conferences in which my talk happens on the first day are inevitably more fun than conferences in which my talk happens on the last day.
Anyway, some things that ended up being good about this conference was that I finally got a chance to talk to our program officer and learn more about what the deal is with our grant. I also floated a new idea for another grant I'm working on with some colleagues. She was into it, but really only into half of it, I could tell, so I think this is going to pose some challenges to us moving forward.
One interesting and upsetting thing is that we're struggling to get sufficient funding through these programs for math projects as opposed to science, technology, and engineering projects. Math isn't getting as much money and meanwhile our two math POs are leaving. I asked my PO what happens when she and the other one leave, and she remarked that probably somebody would end up in their roles who is a science person but has some connections to math. "This is very concerning for the future of math funding," she told me. Ugh. In a better funding year our grant would have been funded this time around.
Anyway, talking to the PO made the trip worth it. Another thing that made the trip worth it was my symposium today. I was very nervous about it because the theme of the symposium was for a research area that I'm just starting to get involved in. So I feel like something of a newbie in this area. Meanwhile, 4 of the 5 other presenter groups are super, super experienced in this area of research. Also, I was *extra* nervous because the content area that I was presenting on is the content area that this very well-known researcher, Dr. C, basically created about 20 years ago. I mean, the content area already existed, of course, but her work on the conceptual structures involved in building it still remains the standard to this day. So I'm going to get up and talk about my work in this area, HER area, and she was on the panel too! It's like talking about the Bible in front of God. Which I said, at the beginning of my talk. (Fortunately she laughed).
To add to the nervousness, this researcher has a particular reputation, and it's not a reputation of being all roses. So I was worried that she'd tear me apart.
So anyway I gave my talk with famous Dr. C sitting near me, and she was really nice. She kept making all of these comments to herself as I was talking, and they were encouraging comments so that bolstered my confidence. Then, after the talk, this other famous guy (who also has quite a reputation) asked a public question that was really a disguised attack. It was on all of us but he used me as an example, so it was specific to me. Also, his point was actually one I agree with completely, so I thought his point was valid. We just hadn't addressed that particular point in our talks because that wasn't the focus of those particular talks. Anyway, Dr. C responded and in her response she complimented a particular analysis I had done as addressing this guy's concerns. I also responded, and he pushed back on my remarks very strongly. It was difficult, but I didn't take it personally. (He's just like that.) Afterwards Dr. C told me that my talk had made her trip worth it, and she suggested a small working group where several of us get together to work on these common problems we're all tackling! That was super exciting. If a working group with Dr. C came out of this, it would totally make the whole trip worth it. It was also a relief that she responded well to my work given how worried I'd been about her response in particular. It's nice when people end up being...nice. Instead of jerky. I'm choosing to focus on the niceness of Dr. C rather than the aggressiveness of the other famous guy.
Then in the airport shuttle on the way to the airport, this random person I've never met turned to me as she was getting off and said, "I really liked your talk. I learned a lot, and I'm in SCIENCE!" The whole shuttle laughed, and somebody said "Never the twain shall meet!" (The joke being that math and science never talk to each other.)
The final thing that made the trip worth it -- dinner and wine with my friends last night. Lots of hilarity ensued.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Conference notes
I tried to sort of sleep in this morning during my DC visit. As I kept waking up to doors slamming and loud feet stomping, my brain said, there's the kids. Time to get up. Then I'd wake up a little more and realize, oh, no. Not the kids. Just some boorish adults who aren't my problem.
I love the Hyatt over all other chain hotels. They do a lot of things right. I'm not particularly motivated to even leave my room. My room is about 2/3 the size of my 1st California apartment.
I kind of wish I hadn't agreed to go to this PI meeting. It is simultaneously broad and small, which means there are practically no talks that interest me. Also, I'm still smarting from the whole grant thing, and just not feeling it. Already looking forward to returning home tomorrow.
I love the Hyatt over all other chain hotels. They do a lot of things right. I'm not particularly motivated to even leave my room. My room is about 2/3 the size of my 1st California apartment.
I kind of wish I hadn't agreed to go to this PI meeting. It is simultaneously broad and small, which means there are practically no talks that interest me. Also, I'm still smarting from the whole grant thing, and just not feeling it. Already looking forward to returning home tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Geez, what a crappy day. Lousy morning with the kids, then I can't find an affordable ticket to SFO in August and am kicking myself for not buying it a long time ago, and worst is that we found out our grant probably won't be funded. It's not 100% yet because our PO is still waiting on final budget numbers, but I think it's like 99% sure that it won't. Moreover it looks like none of Mentor's other two grants will be funded either. Which is hugely disappointing, and also brings up new challenges with how we're going to handle money and funding issues. We have one unfunded student, which happened due to a miscommunication. He told us in his application that he had funding from his government, which is common for people from his country. Many times we receive applications from people who have full funding from their government that pays for their tuition, stipend, etc. We stupidly assumed that was the case with him. We should have checked more carefully, because it turns out that in this student's case, his government funding is actually quite minimal and doesn't even fully cover tuition. So we were anticipating funding him on one of the grants I was totally sure Mentor would get. Now, without this grant coming through, we have no way to fund this student and it is really weighing on me. Tuition + living expenses is hugely expensive and I'm worried about how he is going to handle it.
This is the problem with relying on grants...when the funding to NSF dries up, and it becomes increasingly difficult to secure grant money, then we start running into problems because we have come to depend on grants as part of our structural way of operating.
This is the problem with relying on grants...when the funding to NSF dries up, and it becomes increasingly difficult to secure grant money, then we start running into problems because we have come to depend on grants as part of our structural way of operating.
Weather change
Rough morning. Since when did french toast become such a culinary insult? Reflecting on today's rough morning reminds me of how far we've come. These days, tears happen less often rather than being an inevitable part of the morning. And when they come, they end sooner. Nora began the car ride refusing to get into her seat, but by the time we got to school she was happy and ready to go. What a change from a year ago. 4 year olds are a lot better than 3 year olds.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Can Milo & Nora Come Out to Play?
Today Milo wanted to impress his 8-year old next door neighbor on the playground, so he did a headstand for her. She did indeed seem quite impressed.
The 8 year old has a 5-year old sister who gave Nora a little bag with pens. You can color the outside of the bag with pens. Nora has been clutching that thing ever since. At night time, she said, "Eva colors on her bed. Can I have this now and color on my bed? Eva's allowed to do it."
So cute. These girls live in the house next door, literally 10 feet from our front door. Now the kids are running back and forth between houses all the time. I'm really unsure about how much freedom to give them. They are too young to be just going off on their own, but I can see the day coming. But I do love watching them spontaneously go over to the houses of their friends up and down the street - it reminds me of how it was when I was a kid.
The 8 year old has a 5-year old sister who gave Nora a little bag with pens. You can color the outside of the bag with pens. Nora has been clutching that thing ever since. At night time, she said, "Eva colors on her bed. Can I have this now and color on my bed? Eva's allowed to do it."
So cute. These girls live in the house next door, literally 10 feet from our front door. Now the kids are running back and forth between houses all the time. I'm really unsure about how much freedom to give them. They are too young to be just going off on their own, but I can see the day coming. But I do love watching them spontaneously go over to the houses of their friends up and down the street - it reminds me of how it was when I was a kid.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Love Our Neighborhood
Our neighborhood is a big pull to stay put. We have this listserve and through the spring I've been purging some bigger items, like the kids' outgrown trikes, our double jogging stroller, a bed rail, stuff like that. Over the years I have gotten a lot of nice hand me downs from neighbors - clothes, ice skates, outdoor toys, etc. I put our items up on the listserve and gave them away to neighbors who needed them. It is always good to give back to the group when it is our turn to pass stuff on.
Today I saw an email come in with a picture of a little kid's bike. Free to whoever wants it sitting outside a block from our house. Perfect size for Milo in maybe a month or two, great condition. Jake went out and picked it up, and now we've got Milo's new-to-us bike sitting in our garage for the day when he's ready to graduate from his balance bike.
Jake's parents picked up a tagalong bike at a yard sale, which they're bringing down to our house this week. I haven't seen it so I don't know if it's the right size for a very little kid, but I hope it is. Then we can buy another one for the other kid, and then go biking around as a family. I can just picture it, biking to the Saturday farmer's market for some local vegetables, music, and fun!
Today I saw an email come in with a picture of a little kid's bike. Free to whoever wants it sitting outside a block from our house. Perfect size for Milo in maybe a month or two, great condition. Jake went out and picked it up, and now we've got Milo's new-to-us bike sitting in our garage for the day when he's ready to graduate from his balance bike.
Jake's parents picked up a tagalong bike at a yard sale, which they're bringing down to our house this week. I haven't seen it so I don't know if it's the right size for a very little kid, but I hope it is. Then we can buy another one for the other kid, and then go biking around as a family. I can just picture it, biking to the Saturday farmer's market for some local vegetables, music, and fun!
Friday, June 8, 2012
When to Stay and When to Go
A lot of things about the job have turned really bad in the last couple of years. Lousy within-department interactions, with a departmental bias held strong against our area and communicated openly in faculty meetings. A horrible dean, truly the worst manager I've ever known. Explicit communication that our area will not be supported or grown, which always surprises everybody because deans at other universities pretty much universally support our area because we bring in so much money. And to top it off we have lousy math dept. interactions. They've been so bad lately that Mentor and I have gotten an email informing us that our knowledge, backgrounds, and experience are insufficient for us to be qualified to do the job of running a particular program we're running.
What is good about my job? The little bubble that is my area. My direct area colleagues and our area grad students are truly awesome. We work well together, we have terrific collaborations, and I enjoy the collaborative research we do. Everybody in my area is a great colleague.
But is that bubble enough to protect from the incursions from our department, our dean, the math department, and the horrible state political situation that is ruining everybody's town/county/educational system? I find myself wishing I'd applied to a job in the northwest where a couple of my colleagues are going.
What keeps me here: Our city, the weather, the friendly culture of the midwest, Jake's job/family situation. What makes me want to leave: Our state, the racist & sexist culture of the midwest, my job. If I were single, I probably would have left already, but it's more complicated when you're talking about uprooting a family.
What is good about my job? The little bubble that is my area. My direct area colleagues and our area grad students are truly awesome. We work well together, we have terrific collaborations, and I enjoy the collaborative research we do. Everybody in my area is a great colleague.
But is that bubble enough to protect from the incursions from our department, our dean, the math department, and the horrible state political situation that is ruining everybody's town/county/educational system? I find myself wishing I'd applied to a job in the northwest where a couple of my colleagues are going.
What keeps me here: Our city, the weather, the friendly culture of the midwest, Jake's job/family situation. What makes me want to leave: Our state, the racist & sexist culture of the midwest, my job. If I were single, I probably would have left already, but it's more complicated when you're talking about uprooting a family.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Nora Has Better Policy Ideas Than Our Governor
It's just so bad that I can't even bring myself to talk about it. So instead I'll relay a brief interview I had with Nora.
(Walker's administration repealed the equal pay act)
A: If there is a law that says that women and men should get
paid the same for doing the same work, do you think that’s a good law or a bad
law?
N: A good law.
A: Why?
N: Because if they want the same amount and they
don’t get the same coins, they should.
A: Do you think it’s a good idea or a bad idea to let companies put
pollutants in the water?
N: What are pollutants?
A: Poisons.
N: No.
A: Why?
N: Because, what if fish eat them?
A: What do you think would happen?
N: They would die.
A: Do you think that teachers should have bigger classes
with more kids, or smaller classes with fewer kids?
N: Bigger classes with more kids.
A: Why?
N: Because if it’s a smaller
class and a lot of kids were there, they couldn’t fit.
A: Do you think teachers should have more kids in their classes
or fewer kids in their classes?
N: More kids.
A: Why?
N: Because if they had a few kids, they wouldn’t be
able to garden and stuff.
A: There is a program that lets poor people have doctors even though they don't have enough money to pay for it. Do you think that's a good program or a bad program?
N: Good. Because they need to fix the person.
A: But it does cost a lot of money. Is that okay?
N: Yes. Because they need it.
A: Do you think we should all have to pay more money to get things like sidewalks, trash pickup, and snow plows, or less money, and get less of those things?
N: Pay more money to get those things. Because if you don’t
have enough money, you won’t be able to buy them if you want them. One time we
bought a sidewalk. Nah. Someone just put a new sidewalk.
A: Do you think that was a good thing?
N: Uh huh. Because if sidewalks are really old, you need
new.
A: Do you think that when people go to vote, they should
have to show their driver’s license to vote?
N: No.
A: Why?
N: Because then, I think they’ll be faster.
A: What does it mean to vote?
N: It means to get new people that are good instead of the
bad ones.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Stuff We Saw and Didn't See
Some things we saw:
Other things we saw but didn't photograph:
-- Segway tours (tourists in a group on Segways)
-- A hearse with the top cut out of the roof, and then a bar coming up out of the roof with bar stools seated around it. Tourists drank while being driven around on a ghost tour.
-- A bicycle powered bar. 8 or 10 seats all facing inward around a rectangular bar. Each seat was attached to pedals, and everybody pedaled to make the giant mobile bar move.
We didn't see:
-- Turn signals. Nobody uses them around here. It's treacherous!
Other things we saw but didn't photograph:
-- Segway tours (tourists in a group on Segways)
-- A hearse with the top cut out of the roof, and then a bar coming up out of the roof with bar stools seated around it. Tourists drank while being driven around on a ghost tour.
-- A bicycle powered bar. 8 or 10 seats all facing inward around a rectangular bar. Each seat was attached to pedals, and everybody pedaled to make the giant mobile bar move.
We didn't see:
-- Turn signals. Nobody uses them around here. It's treacherous!
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