reflecting on expecting.

For the tl;dr crowd (read: everyone):  I have two weeks of rad school classes left, ever.  What follows are my lengthy ruminations of reaching this point, otherwise known as my last ditch effort to procrastinate while I still can.  I’ll be back in roughly a fortnight.

Toward the end of October, I opened up my grad school binder, which I maintained for almost two full semesters before realizing that no one uses paper anymore.  Anyway, I opened up dusted off my grad school binder to thoroughly examine my program checklist, making sure all my little librarian ducks are in a row before registering for my last semester of classes ever.

As it turns out, I have no more classes.  I have two practicum sessions, which I’ll be doing in January and March.  Don’t get me wrong- I am completely aware that these are going to take some serious work from me.  When it comes to discussion boards and readings and papers and all the other digital classroom activities, though, I really can see the light at the end of the tunnel, because it’s only about two weeks away.  Reaching that conclusion was like walking downstairs in the morning to discover that you had completely forgotten about your birthday, but your parents hadn’t and they bought you a pony (January 14, in case anyone sees a cardboard box full of free ponies on the side of the road).  That also gives my attitude a huge boost to seriously rock out these last couple of weeks.  No matter how busy/crazy/hectic things are right now, the end is very much in sight.  Wouldn’t it be great to know that I ended my grad school classes with all the vigor of that last corner, when you mysteriously summon the courage to sprint out the last 200 meters?

For the record, I have never participated in a race that lasted more then 200 meters.

High school track team metaphors aside, this got me thinking about how that one small realization has impacted my expectations of myself since then.  It wasn’t that long ago that I felt like I was just barely scraping by, and that survival was the best I could expect from myself.  Now that I can quantify the rest of my grad school classwork with exact certainty, it suddenly seems like a much smaller mountain to scale.

For the record, I have scaled a mountain.  This one, in fact.

Grossly inflated accomplishments aside, the point of all this is that expectations part.  In the past few years, I’ve slowly shifted my mental paradigm to much more simplified expectations.  It’s not because I don’t care or because I’m lazy, despite the fact that that’s quite easily what it looks like.  I learned that setting these ridiculously high expectations for yourself and the people around you causes unnecessary stress, which I’m working hard on eradicating from my existence altogether.

At work, I can’t control the customers’ expectations of me.  I can do my best, hope that they see how genuinely awesome I am, and smile politely when they fail to recognize genuine awesomeness when they see it. I also can’t control when they think I’m much cooler than I really am, but I can just smile in awe that these brief interactions can reflect so positively back onto me (I greatly prefer this type of smile to the former example).

I can’t control how my co-workers make drinks, mop the lobby, count the drawers, or interact with customers (and each other, for that matter).  This one has been, by far, the toughest point to get through my thick skull.  I’ve learned just how draining it can be for a small group of people who want to make drastic positive change, when everyone else is categorized as part of the problem or completely apathetic to it.  I’ve altered my expectations of my co-workers to include the reality that we all do things differently, and I have to appreciate that.  This just means that I’m stockpiling my high expectations and positive attitude for a library program in trouble, or a patron in dire straits.  I most certainly haven’t given up my optimism that I can do anything I want to, I’ve just altered what it is that I want to accomplish.

(Dear customers: I also can’t control parking, weather, drink prices, when we decorate the store for the holidays, the taste of our decaf espresso roast, what coffees we brew, the temperature of the store, music selection, available milk choices, how often the menu board changes, the fact that we no longer offer almond/valencia/cinnamon syrup, or the nutritional content of the pastries, no matter how strongly you feel about any of these things.  Just saying.)

In my personal life, I’ve tried to abolish expectations from the wonderful people who I am lucky enough to have in my life.  My hope is that they understand how much I appreciate having them in my life, even if I don’t have the time to express it all the time, or vise-versa.  I am fortunate that many of them do understand this, because higher expectations of me would surely disappoint.  I also hope that they understand that I am always available to a friend in need, which I might not do such a hot job of making known.

It’s true, though: my top priority will always be the people in my life, because I probably don’t say that enough.

In class, my expectations are geared entirely toward what I can get out of my education.  I have no control over what the professor thinks of my work.  This was especially obvious in one of the classes I’m taking this semester, one of the tougher classes I’ve taken in the program.  Due to a huge mistake on my part, I was terrified that I was going to fail the assignment, and subsequently the class.  Now, I’ve gone through my fair share of difficult life stuff, but this was pretty intense.  My expectations of myself had been so high that I completely panicked and went through a seriously rough couple of days.  I still don’t know whether or not I overreacted (I probably did), and I ended up doing just fine on the assignment.  But I got that moment of mortality: I’m not impervious to failure, but I have what it takes to succeed.  Since the wound from this life lesson is still pretty fresh, I probably haven’t reached maximum appreciation potential of it.  I’m sure it was something important for me to experience, though.

As I roll up my sleeves and crank out the last of my days as an official student, I hope that I’ve reached a good balance on the expectations spectrum.  I’ll do my best at the things I have control over.  I’ll let go of the things I don’t have control over.  And I’ll keep in mind that my best is a whole lot better than survival.

 

evidence.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present you with irrefutable substantiation that I did, in fact, complete my fieldwork.  Furthermore, I aim to evince my progress as- ahem- a real librarian.

Exhibit A: You might recall that, for my secondary fieldwork, I created a whole bunch of READ posters to be displayed around the high school.  I was a little worried that the posters would be a well-intentioned project that eventually fell by the wayside, but I recently discovered that this was not to be the case.  My READ posters have been printed!  Here is the proof:

(special thanks to Mr. Chodak for the picture)

Exhibit B: During my elementary fieldwork, I started to feel more like a real school media specialist.  Throughout my high school fieldwork experience, I tried to observe as much as possible because I wasn’t quite confident enough to start shushing people, doling out writing utensils, and other things that define librarianship.

(That part about shushing and doling out writing utensils was a joke.)

With my elementary fieldwork, though, I was ready to get my hands dirty.  I was ready to give the “teaching” thing a shot.  And I finally summoned the courage to give it a shot during the last class on my last day.  I wrote about that over here, but now I have actual verification that this took place:

(special thanks to Ms. B for the picture)

I should probably explain my attire, because I don’t normally dress like that for fieldwork.  That day, the teachers and students were invited to boast their favorite sports team through their clothing.  Since I missed Red Ribbon Week, I decided I didn’t want to be the only oddball who wasn’t properly adorned.  So I dug out the only sports-related shirt I have: a vintage (read: old) Bolivar Bulldogs t-shirt.  The Chuck Taylors were the obvious choice in footwear that day.

But look!  All the students are paying attention!  They might just be looking in my general direction, but I’ll take it.

In one of my classes, we’re talking about extrinsic rewards.  I made the argument that everyone does everything they do because of the reward(s) involved, whether it’s survival, pleasure, or a piece of candy.  Well, friends, if I may get cheesy for a moment, these images are my reward.  These pictures serve as validation that I’ve accomplished some things and made progress.  I used to think about what I would be like when I became a librarian, and now I’m starting to see me become that person.  It’s a really strange feeling, but it’s also pretty cool.

 

 

ndlw: a day in the life

In case the graphic didn’t give it away, today marks the beginning of National Distance Learning Week!  If you’ve already read Rebecca’s really awesome official SU post on the same subject, you can probably stop here.  If you’re reading because you’re entertained by my follies, then… hi, mom.

As a distance learning student and someone posing as a blogger, I am intrigued by the concept of devoting a whole week to people like me.  While they don’t all pretend to be bloggers, there are millions of people in the United States who are distance learning students.  Millions.

I took a moment to think about that.  Whoa.

I field a lot of questions about the whole distance learning thing, as though people discover that I’m some bizzare creature that eats tomato soup with a fork (I wrote about those questions a while back).  The truth is, though, that a lot of people we know are earning their degrees online.  There are plenty of new teachers who acquire their requisite Masters online while starting their full-time teaching careers.  One of my sisters is getting her Masters through distance learning, because she wouldn’t otherwise have access to such a great program with a highly specialized degree.  One of my best friends is getting her MBA online so she can take classes at an expedited rate.  Distance learning, especially beyond the four-year degree, is becoming a serious contender for those embarking on journeys of higher education.

Most people already understand that distance learning allows you to fit your education into your life.  It’s great for people who can’t leave their 9-5, or who don’t want to miss dinner with the family so they can take night classes.  Or people who have taken six years to finally warm up to the idea of urban living, but only in one particular city, since traversing the Amazon would surely be easier to navigate than a whole new city.  Not that I can relate to that.

Since you already understand some of the pros and cons of distance learning, I’m going to give you a glimpse into the day-to-day life of a barista/future librarian.  Welcome to a typical day of karen the (soon to be) librarian:

7am(ish): Wake up.  Compare the threat of wasting the morning in bed to that of leaving its euphoric comfort for the harsh world that exists outside of my covers.

7:15am: Get out of bed.  Make coffee and greet the bunny.  Get my Sun Salutation on (harsh world, indeed!)

8am: Fire up the laptop.  Check email, Facebook, and Bloglines.  Find out what day it is.

8:20am: Log onto my class website (we call it a learning management system, or LMS) and make sure I don’t have anything due today.  Check to see if anyone has responded to my posts.  Really ensure that I’m positive what day it is (Wednesday?  It feels like Saturday).

9am: Remember the really important form that’s due for approval tomorrow.  Send an urgent Facebook message and tweet to classmates.  Work on assignments, discussions, blogs, or other nerdy librarian stuff.  Lament that I don’t have someone around all the time to test-drive my content for humor, intellect, or wit.

9:15am: Refresh the page continuously until someone responds to my plea.

10am: Thank my classmate profusely for her wonderful response and magnanimous assistance.  Fill out the form, submit it, and breathe a sigh of relief.  Check Facebook and comment on the librarian gig that a classmate just secured, and find out what I did with that Jeopardy! PowerPoint template that I saw once on my hard drive so I can pass it along to another classmate.

10:15am: Call and/or email one of the many amazing people at the iSchool with fervent queries regarding minutiae that no one but me cares about.  Thank them for not hanging up on me.

10:30am: Begin a simple task, such as sweeping the floor or doing the dishes.  Watch it snowball as I rearrange the entire apartment, organize that cupboard with containers and plastic bags, and/or cook meals for the month.

1pm: Realize that I’m now in danger of being late for work.  Look at my calendar to make sure I know what day it is and what time I’m supposed to be at work.  Check Facebook and get ready for work.

1:30pm:  Kick myself for never actually getting the floor swept or the dishes done.  Sync articles and other homework stuffs onto my phone, which I absolutely do not ever read or look at while I am at work.  Make sure it really is Wednesday.

2:30pm: Punch in to work.  Brew coffee, fill out values walk, make tasty bevs, and other green apronly stuff.  Do not use my amazing little phone to check email, Facebook, or homework.  Absolutely not.

9:58pm: Tell customers that we’re about to close.  Make a joke that no one laughs at.  Retreat to the back room to pull myself together do work-related stuff.

10pm: Close the store.

10:02pm: Punch out.  Go to Wegmans.  Wander around with headphones on, enjoying the experience and dodging anyone who might recognize me as their barista, which inevitably happens at least once per trip.

11pm: Hang out with the bunny.  Check the LMS, Facebook, email, and Hulu.

midnight: Celebrate making it through another day by pulling the covers as far above my head as I can.

Of course, that’s just an ordinary day.  Sometimes I meet up with friends before or after work, and there are many times when that entire schedule is replaced by a Big Gulp of coffee and a hefty assignment that’s due tomorrow. Fieldwork also made an interesting addition to the mix.

The point of all this is that distance learning is losing its stigma and becoming a big part of many people’s daily lives.  I’m so grateful that I’ve been able to complete this program from a revered institution without having to uproot my entire life.  Sure, there are a lot of sacrifices involved in distance learning, but I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way.

 

elementary fieldwork: roundup

My elementary fieldwork endeavor ended a little over a week ago, which has given me some time to internalize my experience, synthesize everything I’ve learned, and metaphysically analyze how my time in that particular school media center fits into the existential development of my professional chakra.

Or maybe I slept in, ate many meals with many friends I’ve been missing, and caught up on my Hulu queue.

Definitely one of those two.

Anyway, it occurred to me at some point that I had been approaching my fieldwork with the wrong attitude.  Based upon my limited experience at the elementary level, I started my experience having virtually ruled out this type of librarianship altogether.  I armed myself with the motivation to do good work, enjoy myself, and keep the most open mind I thought I could muster.

It’s not that I don’t like kids.  I’ve got some nieces that are a lot of fun to hang out with.  But I don’t need to say that there’s a big difference between being the world’s coolest aunt (which I most certainly am, by the way) and managing a classroom of twenty or so kids, especially when you’re also responsible for teaching them something beyond sitting still.

On top of the panic-inducing dynamic of an elementary library, the high school and above demographic just sounds so much more appealing to me.  I daydream about how I could decorate my library, demonstrate way cool resources, and coordinate fun events.

Regardless of my frequent reverie, I had the task in front of me.  As it turns out, I also had a lot of the tools I’d need to complete the task, and my elementary fieldwork ended up being a really positive experience.  The kind of experience that is best summed up with a bulleted list and a catchy title:

Things that made elementary fieldwork way more awesome than I ever thought it would be

• My site supervisor:  In all seriousness, I can’t emphasize how fantastically wonderful she was.  I’ve known her for a few years, which helped me relate to her- since we were once at the same level, it was easy to see myself in her position in just a couple of years.  It also meant that she knew where I was coming from.  She offered me a lot of invaluable words of wisdom about being an up-and-coming school media specialist.  We made a pretty good team, I think.
• The faculty:  I’m always pleasantly surprised at how welcoming the fellow teachers and librarians are to me, and this was no exception.  I didn’t spend very long at this school, but a lot of the teachers immediately made me feel like a part of the group.  It might be the team mentality of forming a united front to control 300 children, but I am very appreciative of it nonetheless.  I learned a whole lot from informal communications with other faculty members.
• The projects:  This is what gets me fantasizing about my own library.  Getting a little bit artsy makes me happy, and my elementary fieldwork was such a great setting for getting artsy.  I got to use big letters and bright colors, all the while keeping in mind that it has to be quickly understood by fourth graders.  My librarian seemed appreciative, and I loved contributing to the space in this way.
• The kids:  I admit it.  The kids… they are righteously cool.  On my first day, after my first full class, several youngsters blindsided me with hugs.  It was a moment of terror, followed by a moment of nervous laughter, followed by a moment of clarity.  I realized that I could enjoy hanging out with the students and use the opportunity to learn how to interact with them without the pressures of being accountable for their intellectual progress.  Of course, their little brains were in the back of my mind the whole time, but I tried to focus on the foundation before worrying myself with the feng shui of the living room.
• Story time: The last day of my fieldwork was right before Halloween.  Over the course of the week, the librarian had read some festive books, including Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. I got all nostalgic for my days as a third grader, when my teacher would read these stories to us.  Before I knew it, I was reading to the kids.  Out loud.  On the carpet.  Like a real librarian.  It was pretty rad.
• The kids: Worth saying again, because they were lots of fun.  And they drew me pictures from the art books they checked out:

I’m not sure that this fieldwork has changed my mind about working in an elementary library, but I’m definitely more open to the possibility.  Since I don’t have to decide that just yet, I’ll accept the experience as a good time and a whole bunch of great learning opportunities.  And I’m much more prepared for my big elementary practicum… even a little excited for it.

 

halloween.

Like everyone else in America, I saw a lot of costumes this weekend.  I don’t like to go all out with Halloween, but I dig seeing how creative and resourceful some people get.  One friend dressed as a character from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, complete with a bunch of birds that she sewed all on her own.  Then there was the co-worker who made a very impressive Dwight Schrute (I think it was the short-sleeved button-down shirt that really knocked it out of the park).  Two customers came in on Saturday night dressed as Quailman and Patty Mayonnaise.

The best costume, though, was a chance encounter at a party I almost didn’t go to.

I don’t know the guy who thought up this insanely cool idea, but my favorite costume of 2009 was Bob Ross:

(sorry about the picture.  it was dark.  and all i had was my phone.)

When I told him how fantastically awesome his getup was, he was ecstatic- apparently I was the first to identify his greatness all evening.  We had a nice chat about happy little trees, and he said, “Sweet… my costume is officially a success!”  And it was.