Goodbye, WWU

I just finished teaching my last class at Western Washington University.

Up until actually setting foot in Iowa, this whole thing was somewhat surreal. And the same is true for this summer quarter – now that it’s come to an end it’s all finally setting in. I’m excited for this new adventure, but I’m leaving the best job I’ve ever had. I’m much more emotional than I expected.

I had a wonderful Research Methods class this quarter, in addition to the past two summer quarters. Every single student has been delightful, and every class has bonded and had a great time. A great time while learning about things like sampling and statistics, mind you. I take absolutely no credit for this. Students, and their previous professors, are entirely to thank. I’ve definitely been on a lucky streak with Comm 398 and secretly think it was the universe’s way of pushing me toward a PhD program (so I can have stronger credentials to teach the course in the future, with greater frequency).

However, it hasn’t been a cakewalk. There have definitely been challenging moments, days, weeks, and quarters. And challenging students. There – I said it! I’m not going to say anything more; already it feels odd and perhaps somewhat unprofessional to be discussing my professional life in a public forum. And it is not meant to be. But in a profession that seems to overtake your personal life to such a strong degree, and one that requires great sacrifices for your family members (dogs included), it’s simply a large part of me.

I’ll most likely be teaching two courses per semester at the University of Iowa during the next 4 years. I don’t know precisely what I’ll be teaching, or where we’ll end up in 2014. But I guess that’s what makes it exciting. If someone told me, at the age of 17, as a student at Wenatchee Valley College in Podunk Small Town USA that by the age of 30 I would have earned not just a BA but an MA, that I would be working on a PhD, that I would have lived in 6 states and traveled to 25 states, and that I would be happily married with 6 dogs, I would have fainted. Who knows where the next decade will take Sim and I. But life seems to be full of pleasant surprises.

Okay, knock on wood now. I know it’s superstitious and super silly, but do it! Sim used to carry a piece of wood with him in our Jeep Cherokee that sat in the cupholder, so he could always knock on wood. Obviously the traditional has worn off on me.

WWU, I bid you farewell. Here are just a few favorite moments caught on tape during our time together, compliments of my Fall 2009 Small Group Communication students.

Gifts

Be forewarned, this is a mushy blog. I’m normally the kind of person who swears that seeing her students each day is a gift in itself. Yeah, just like the 2-year old having a meltdown in the middle of the supermarket by lying on the floor and flopping around like a fish out of water is a blessing.

But in reality, that’s why I love teaching. Like any prof, I spend a shitload of time every week to prepare for class and grade assignments. And my reward? A few brief, yet cherished, hours spent with my students.

Only this quarter, no matter how much I tried to make it better and relish my last full-time quarter at WWU (which I should mention, is both my employer and my alma mater), I was feeling a little underappreciated.

Monday was my first gift: A holiday. I respectfully understand that it was Memorial Day. It was meant to observe, honor, and remember. But I slept. And I was much happier to see my students on Wednesday than I would have been on Monday. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Wednesday provided many gifts. I had an end of quarter party in my Small Group Communication class (yes, just like 5^th graders do – don’t be critical), hosted Friendship Day in my Interpersonal Communication class (yes, just like 3^rd graders do – again, don’t judge – they freaking love it). I listened to just 3 (rather than the usual 6) speeches in my Public Speaking class (thank you god): Speech #’s 63, 64 & 65.

And then I attended a BBQ for about 50 Public Speaking Instructor Assistants (IAs). Our IAs are a blessing. And not just because they do most of our grading. They are delightful people who help students grow as speakers and make the class markedly less daunting and more enjoyable. It was there that our Director presented my colleague (who is also leaving) and I with an unexpected gift: A memory book filled with a picture of us with our assistants and little signed cards from assistants who have worked with us throughout the year. It contains so many smiles and kind words that, I know, will cheer me up after any bad day.

The day then ended with the Teaching & Learning Academy Awards ceremony. Lots and lots of students, professors, staff members, departments, and organizations were recognized. It was noted that oftentimes awards of recognition are few and far between within academia, and the goal of this ceremony was to recognize all individuals/groups nominated by anyone. No letters of rec needed from the department Chair, colleagues, or students. No academic vitae, teaching evaluations, or research program to be evaluated. Just recognition for making a difference in someone’s life. Every award has the recipient’s name printed on the front and then contains their nominator’s comments/thanks on the back. Seriously, we should do this more often.

Friday was also ripe with gifts. Two students who I’ve worked closely with this year, and who also quickly become dear friends to each other, painted me a beautiful picture. It has bright colors and two quotes about teaching. They also wrote a special thank you letter and gave me a set of little margarita shaped candles that match the painting. And they also orchestrated a card for me, signed by all of the IAs on our section.

I know that instructors receive thank you cards and gifts periodically from students (and we must remember that we cannot accept gifts *before* grades have been finalized), but this quarter was especially touching. It helped me remember why I’m here, and I think Taylor Mali captures it best.

Burnout

Burnout: Attitudes are contagious. Mine might kill you.

This quarter marks two years of teaching full-time, and a total of 6 years intermittently teaching part-time. This translates to a total of 6 different courses taught to a total of nearly 40 sections of students.

I strive to be a fun, yet intelligent, instructor who relates well to Generation Y’ers (although I’m also happy to work with many non-traditional students). The kind of instructor that students are comfortable to approach, yet know better than to fuck with. Sorry, I’m fresh out of sugar coating today.

In fact, I’ve been short on sugar coating nearly all quarter. It started like all quarters. Fresh, new, exciting, and organized. And then it quickly turned into a patience, or perhaps a tolerance, contest. How much bullshit can Christina tolerate this week? The answer to that question decreased exponentially with each week.

As a young, female instructor who also has blonde hair and a generally cheerful disposition, I’m continually conscious of my professional demeanor. The last thing I want to be perceived as is (a) dumb, (b) under qualified, (c) the instructor who tries to be friends with her students rather than a teacher/leader, or (d) a bitch. This, coupled with the knowledge that a woman can in fact be credible yet personable, influences my professional conduct.

Along the way I’ve learned not to become too upset about some things. You want to make a scene about your exam score in front of the entire class to see what I do? Fine, see if I care. I dare you to make me sweat. Little do they know that, just yesterday, in fact, my husband commented on my “nerves of steal”. It’s not an indifference to students, because I really care. I’m a care bear. But it’s simply a mindset that enables me to get through extremely long days often comprised of one too many snide, rude, or completely unethical students. If I got upset every time a student, for example, text messaged and read a magazine throughout a trembling freshman’s final speech (as if the speaker *doesn’t* see an arrogant asshole in the audience who is communicating that their speech is boring), I would give myself a coronary. It’s much easier to remind that student of the attendance policy, reiterate that they are providing a disconfirming message to the speaker, and remove their name from that day’s attendance sheet. In reality, I would actually prefer to text message and read a magazine during *their* final speech. But someone has to grade it.

Because I look kind and nurturing before even opening my mouth, apparently students expect me to excuse all late work. And they would like me to pass out “A”s on a silver platter. Because I’m “just a dumb blonde” and can’t possibly help them improve as a writer. So when I firmly, yet gently, note the consequences for various decisions they’ve made, their jaws completely drop. “Oh my god. I can’t believe she said that. She must be PMSing. What a bitch. Who does she think she is?” Again, there’s no power trip. There is, however, an expectation of university professors. Murphy’s Law clearly explains that if you let a student earn an A on an assignment after turning it in, for no good reason, days late, they will conveniently report this wonderful news to their friend as they pass by the Chair’s office, or the office of a well respected senior colleague.

But back to the persona. I try very hard to show students how much I care about them. The burned out professor is a common image within academia. It’s quite obvious when someone is done. Out to lunch. Fed up. And their world quickly becomes very dark. Suddenly all students are adversaries. They can do NO right. Ever. This guise is not only heartbreaking, but it is frustrating. It starts to poison the classroom and changes students. Just as it’s hard to get over a romantic partner who has broken your heart or mistreated you, it is equally difficult to get over a bad professor.

In past quarters I’ve thought back to a “Teacher Burnout” scale (Richmond, Wrench & Gorham, 2001) that measures your level of exhaustion. But this quarter’s experiences, which quickly depleted my supply of sugarcoating, prompted me to actually complete the inventory.

http://www.jamescmccroskey.com/measures/teach_burnout.htm

After completing the measure I’m happy to report that (a) I was only mildly burned out, or (b) the scale does not adequately measure burnout.

The catch

There’s always a catch to anything. The catch to our move: I have to teach at WWU (in Washington) this summer. This is not news to me. In fact, I’m thrilled for the opportunity, which I requested months ago. This not only helps me build my vitae, but it pays in 6 weeks of work what I’d normally earn in 12 weeks due to the compressed schedule. However, it does mean that I have to help Sim and the dogs move to Iowa between June 13 and June 21, and then fly back for a 6 week summer session commencing on June 22^nd.

And, brace yourselves, I have to stay with my parents! My sister and her husband also live in the same town, thankfully, and have been kind enough to also offer me refuge and free rent. So I’ll likely rotate between houses every week to make sure I don’t wear out my welcome anywhere too quickly.

But the worst part will be being away from my family for that long. I know there are much worse things in life, but this will be really difficult. Their first 6 weeks in a new region, state, and city will be spent without me. I’ll be missing out on trips to the lake and dog park, playing outside in the water to cool off, and watching the fireflies at night. These dogs are going to go crazy over the fireflies. I just hope they don’t bark at them as incessantly as they do squirrels.