b l o g o s

where there's a dissertation, there's a whippet

(Speaking of lives that wind around work--or is it the other way around?)

And now I have added a category, whippets and disses, just for this genre of posts. CGD's diss is in good company.

mama 2 mama

There are a few things to say about the washed-out photo at left, taken with my iPad on a return flight from the RSA Institute at Boulder. The first is that I took it while reading the introduction to a dissertation scheduled to be defended in a few days. Reading a dissertation on a plane isn't all that momentous--people in jobs like mine do it all the time--but reading a dissertation while flying solo with a toddler is a major event for this mama. During the first hour of the nap, I rested. And then I found myself getting restless and then... could I? No. Maybe I can just reach down into my bag with my free hand. Yes! There it is. My wrists hurt like a mofo from having to hold it in the same position for an hour, and typing notes and making annotations was next to impossible, but I managed. The Bean woke up just as I wound down the last sentences of the introduction, delighted to see that she could switch the iPad over to the baby-appropriate counting app.

The second thing to say about this photo is that CGD, the author of said dissertation, wrote pretty much the whole thing with a baby sleeping in her own lap, having given birth, completed a job visit, and negotiated a job offer all within the space of (no joke) a month last winter. After the postpartum/post-job search (!) phase wound down, she had to write up the study she had been conducting for three years now (a really remarkable study of the rhetorical practices surrounding a watershed in Eastern Iowa). CGD posted onto facebook photo after webcam photo of herself in a room lit only by the glow of her dissertation screen, with the little--growing--bundle sleeping in a carrier or wrap or her arm. (We mamas get pretty fast with the one-hand typing.) By the time she finished, he--the baby--was sitting up gazing in wonder at the screen. As well he should.

One would expect a dissertation written with such speed under these conditions to be a little rough around the edges, at least typographically speaking. If the introduction is any indication, though, this one is as clean as a freshly diapered baby's behind. And the writing is so strong, the study so capacious and downright fascinating, I can't wait to post this and get back to reading it.

CGD, I promise I will post the requisite diss-with-whippet, but I wanted to post this one as well, as a visual response to your writing series, a further chronicling of the lives that share the spaces of our work. Way to go, mama.

time warps

Today I called Comcast to see how much we would save if we dropped tv cable from our package. The person on the phone volunteered that we have been getting overcharged by $10. a month since we moved in: "and since that was in June 2009," she said, "we need to refund that money for one year."

Later, JM and I were at "the mall"* with the Bean, who was running ahead of her stroller in Macy's. A Macy's employee smiled sweetly and asked, "how old?" When I replied "15 months," she nodded knowingly and said "Yep. I was going to say a little over two," as if my answer completely affirmed her guess.

I will leave it to you people to guess which of these women I corrected. 

 

*honestly, there should be regulations against calling that place a mall.

where there's a dissertation, there's a whippet (ongoing series)

This one features my first digital dissertation read and annotated on my iPad, and a decidedly not first sleeping, blanketed whippet.

where there's a dissertation, there's a whippet

 

 

 

 

I read most of this dissertation in Kansas and on flights to and fro. But before mailing it off to its whipsmart author with my comments, I found a whippet nearby. I'm telling you, the whippet knows when a dissertation is around.

(Also, KR: there's one of the boots you were asking about awhile back.)

Go here for last year's installment, and at the bottom of that are the previous disses in the series. CGD, you are on deck!

conference childcare--what conference childcare?

I have written here before about the difficulties of attending conferences with a baby in tow. This is on my mind because CCCC is coming up, and the Bean and I are flying there alone. I am lucky because my parents live fairly close to Atlanta, and they are going to come help out so that I can attend my panels, meetings, and a memorial dinner and know that the Bean is safe with Nana and Pops. 

At one point, though, I thought I would need to use the conference's recommended sitter service. (And I am imagining there are others who have no choice.) Mind you, this is not childcare provided by the conference. Several months ago, when I emailed the NCTE offices to find out about conference-provided childcare (because I know I had seen a drop-in option in the past), I received a note saying that they stopped arranging for on-site service. The note went on to offer information about a recommended service and the charges. I thought I needed someone for two hours, and with all the additional charges (including some mysterious "referral fee," parking, and a minimum four-hour charge) it was going to cost me nearly $90.00. I wondered on facebook just how many CCCC attendees with small children could afford that sort of fee. I suspect the answer is not that many.

Since I am planning to attend NCA in New Orleans this November with just the Bean, I decided to look up their policies. This is even better. My search for the term "childcare" of course turned up nothing, but digging in the conference FAQs, I found this gem:

Q. Can my partner, child, or family member accompany me at convention? 

Absolutely! NCA’s annual convention, for many members, is a family affair. The NCA convention has many social aspects in addition to its fine intellectual tradition. Your family members or friends do not need to pay the membership fees if they do not plan on attending programs, convention receptions or visiting the exhibit area. For a $50 registration fee, they are welcome at all sessions, events and receptions.All partner, family, spouse registrations must be purchased onsite in New Orleans.

So I emailed someone at the NCA offices asking whether the conference provided any sort of childcare or at the very least recommended a service, like CCCC and MLA (MLA, which provides vouchers to help curb the cost of the service, is starting to look like the winner here). Here is the response I received:

Hello Debra. NCA does not arrange special childcare services but often the hotel can recommend local services. I would suggest contacting the concierge desk at the hotel at which you are thinking of staying. Thank you!

 

Michelle Randall, CMP
Senior Manager, Convention and Meetings
National Communication Association
1765 N Street NW
Washington DC 20036

In case you have just been skimming, let me sum things up for you: the NCA encourages people to register their spouses and kids--that is PAY to bring them to the conference--but they will not lift a finger to arrange a certified care provider for people traveling with children to their professional conference. Note that I am not asking NCA to pay for childcare, just to make a service available for women (or men) who need to bring their children along with them. Though I do think they ought to also consider at least partially subsidizing childcare for contingent laborers, assistant professors, and graduate students.

I am not sure where the women's caucus is on this issue, and frankly, I would think that NCA would want to be in line with the large conferences and have some sort of childcare procedure in place if they really want to claim to be "family friendly" as they do when they brightly announce the registration fee for spouses and children. 

So here is what I am thinking of doing in New Orleans: I will pay $50.00 to register Nora. She will wear the nametag (a strangulation hazard for a toddler, if NCA must know), and she will come with me to my presentations. I will announce at the beginning of my presentations that I am performing what NCA must think we need to do with our families, and I will let her interrupt my presentation or run around the room as much as she wants. Perhaps I will buy her a noisy tambourine, adorned with the NCA theme, "Voice," just for the occasion.

I will call it a "baby-in."

I want to clarify that I do not think this issue rises to the level of import of the labor issues that NCA has turned a blind eye to in the recent past. But I do think turning a blind eye to the conditions of their conference attendees is of a piece with that very mentality.

 

feminism and lecture hosting

JM, the Bean, and I visited Philadelphia last week so that I could give a lecture at Temple's Center for the Humanities. Sue Wells, Eli Greenblatt, and Shannon Walters were such wonderful hosts. The usual food and conviviality were amped up on all sides.

But their hosting went beyond the usual. When they asked me to come give a talk, I was a little apprehensive, because I needed to bring JM and the baby with me, and we wanted to take the train, which adds further complications. But from the moment I mentioned these extra concerns, both Sue and Eli (the point people on the arrangements) helped make it not just possible but very easy to bring the Bean along. Sue very sweetly offered to borrow a car seat and meet us at the train station. Eli even arranged for a *babysitter* so that JM could join us all for dinner the night before the lecture.  

As a bonus, Sue took me and the Bean for a fun trek through the "Anatomy Academy" exhibit at the PA Fine Arts Museum. How lucky am I to get a tour of medical sketches, paintings, and displays from the leading scholar of rhetoric and medical training in our field! We peered at 19th century surgical instruments while Bean dashed from a bench to an electrical outlet, running out any heebie jeebies from the train ride. Here she is at right in the museum proper, taking off after my favorite fox painting (visible in the background).

The next day, when Sue and I were heading up to the building before my lecture, I mentioned to her that it strikes me as decidedly feminist to be so supportive of my little entourage. I feel very fortunate to have had a string of hosts this year who have been exceedingly accommodating: the Chicago Humanities Festival offered to pay for an extra room for my mother-in-law, who came along to keep the Bean while I gave a talk one day and interviewed KAJ another; folks in the Comm department at Pitt booked a larger room to allow for her pack-n-play, and welcomed the Bean to their happy hour. Such hosting graciousness is, yes, a feminist act--it makes it possible for me to say yes to a handful of invitations.* Or as Sue put it in her friendly, blunt reply to my gratitude, "what, are we just going to not hear from you for seven or eight years?"

While we were driving around Philly the next day, she told me about how she took her 6 month old daughter to a conference in Italy, and when she and her friend asked one of the conference organizers if it would be all right to have the baby at a session as long as they promised to rush her right out of the room as soon as she made a peep, he responded in Italian (Sue translated for me): "The baby needs to be outside. Fresh air is good for it." We had a little laugh about this response.

And while the Italian conference organizer's attitude is still, twenty years later, remarkably commonplace, it is refreshing to have flexible, accommodating hosts, hosts who recognize not all scholars fit into a standard itinerary, hosts who embrace the difference.

 

 

 *I would be remiss if I didn't mention the family members who have given so generously of their time to help make this year's travel schedule work as well: JM, JM's mom, my sister, and my mom.

 

netflix blogging: cyrus

This movie is very funny. I heart John C. Reilly, and Jonah Hill is fantastic. Here is my second favorite scene:

"no it doesn't."

Remembering Jada

  Our sweet, velvet-bellied whippet Jada died last night. She was fourteen or so and had congestive heart failure, but was in pretty decent shape until the past day or so, when her system just seemed to shut down. Last night we made a bed for her on the floor in the living room and took turns sleeping next to her. When JM woke up and didn't hear her rattly breathing, he knew she was gone. She was still warm when we wrapped her in a sheet and put her in the back of our car.

At left, she is pictured at a lake in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, listening to a loon.

When my niece and nephew were little kids, they gave her the giggly nickname "Jada Potato," and it stuck. She made all these crazy moves with me, as our two expanded to five--from State College (where I brought her after I rescued her), to Champaign, where our friends sweetly (and mostly) indulged her love for licking human skin, to Pittsburgh, where she would race JM to the top of Frick Park's stairs, (back) to Urbana, where we acquired Tillie, with whom she begrudgingly learned to share us, and then back to State College, where she loved to lie on the chaise longue in the morning sun. 

She kept me company through two books, countless articles, and now three revisions of the  textbook. She would always lie around while I read dissertations (see here, here, and the photo at right, with her beloved octopus).

When I was very pregnant--even in early labor at home--she quite literally propped me up on my side, tucked in behind me, warm and firm.

When we brought the baby home, Jada took one lick, scooped up the octopus, and began pacing around with excitement. She surprised us by making it through the first year of baby Bean's life, the past few months exchanging her gentle licks for bean's (mostly gentle) practice pats and subsisting on the tasty morsels of meat, macaroni, and peas that Bean cast off her tray, and even sometimes taking food right from her hand--always gently, eyes wide with pleasure.

So long, J. Potay. Our lives were fuller and happier with your company.

 

 

 

 

lessons about sex

When Northwestern psychology professor Richard Bailey allowed a sex demonstration in front of his lecture class last month, he "didn't see the harm in it." After the firestorm of criticism, he still doesn't seem to, despite his admission that he began to feel uncomfortable himself during the demonstration. His apologies have been, really, non-apologies.

At the end of a recent Tribune piece focusing on Bailey's response to the controversy generated by his, er, guest speakers, is this gem of rhetorical criticism:

Bailey also said he has not heard convincing arguments against what happened, echoing Morton's statement when he said arguments such as that the demonstration "was troubling" are too vague.

"If I were grading the arguments against what occurred, most would earn an 'F,' " Bailey said.

There are a number of things that are deeply troubling about the fact that you allowed a live demonstration using sex toys in front of your class, Professor Bailey. I will just name the one that I find the most enraging:the sex toy in question that the man used to penetrate the woman on the stage of your lecture hall was in the form of a POWER SAW that has a phallus-like protrusion instead of a blade.

This normalization of violent sex games is of a piece with the bland acceptance of violence against women in this culture, and it calls to mind this airtight argument about the sort of domestic violence Charlie Sheen has been allowed to get away with while people everywhere shake their heads and have a good chuckle over the drug addict from Bueller. Yes, presumably this demonstration was consensual, and yes, perhaps some couples find this sort of violent theme enjoyable. And yes, this issue sets off interesting arguments about academic freedom that I'm inclined to entertain.

The pedagogical gains from such a demonstration remain to me unclear, but I am certain about one thing: to eroticize violent acts toward women in front of a group of 18-22 year olds in an educational context is both irresponsible, and from my vantage point, reprehensible.

 

 

 

here's what's sacred about family time

The status update was going to say this:

"Debbie notices that 'family' is sometimes deemed a sentimental category at times when it is really a category of labor."

But I quickly realized that this was too cryptic, and that the update probably belonged over here at blogos. What I mean is this: JM and I are unable to meet requests to do work-related things on weekends [updated to add: and] between the hours of 5 and 7 pm (because this is when we are feeding and putting the Bean to bed, and that process is best handled by both of us and pretty much has to involve me at this point). My most immediate colleagues get this limitation, and we work around it. As an example, I am taking the Bean over to a colleague's house tomorrow afternoon (a Saturday) to talk with that colleague about promoting the English major. This is how we planned it from the beginning (at the colleague's suggestion).

Even so, others don't get it, and I suppose they wouldn't really have any good reason to get it. Weirdly, though, the way they don't get it is by claiming to get it, and then saying something about the sacredness of family. Sacred my ass. It's work.

Departing from carefully divided weekend childcare routines is not only difficult, it is often unfair in that it leaves the other person trying to take care of house-related stuff while keeping a toddler from falling down the stairs, and it means leaving the other person to do that without a break (which in our house means a break to go do work). It is difficult because "trading" time means losing double the amount of time one spends doing whatever one has committed to do. That childcare time needs to be made up in the name of equity. And without equity this whole family thing does not work--not for us, anyway.

So that's what I mean: it's not about a sentimental or sacred protection of time with family, it's about work and an insistence on familial equity. Which are, come to think of it, sacred. 

scattershot four: "kids these days" edition

1. Yesterday before class began, I asked my students for product advice: "can anybody recommend a pair of headphones with a mic on it, you know, that you would use to talk on an iphone?" As they stared at me blankly, I slowly came to the realization that they don't need microphones for their thumbs.

2. While trudging up Pugh Street just downhill from a heavily cologned young man, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, the cologne is some kind of subconscious effort to make up for his behind, left bare by his sagging jeans.

3. State Patty's day (held on a Saturday) is a totally watered down version of The U of Illinois Unofficial Saint Patrick's Day (held on a Friday). This year, the people on my neighborhood listserv are trying to "take back" the weekend by taking their kids out and doing family stuff. Maybe when The Bean is older we will participate in both efforts by setting up a stand in our yard and selling bottled water, changes of clothes, and cologne top ups.

4. On the flip side of #2 and #3 are the students in my class. They are giving speeches on really interesting issues: on the uprisings in Egypt, on Wikileaks, on China's one-child policy, on Wisconsin, on Arizona's anti-immigration laws, on unisexed children, on same sex marriage. They are bursting with questions for each other after the speeches, even though we don't have time for questions (note to self: need to build in time for questions). And they also go easy on the cologne. Perhaps this is because their pants are in the right place.

 

CDD **FLASH FORUM**: Collective Bargaining in the U.S.

 CDD FLASH FORUM: Collective Bargaining in the U.S. 

The recent swell of protests in Wisconsin, Ohio, and other states signals the continued life of labor unions and a strong belief in the importance of collective bargaining. The controversy over collective bargaining matters for more than union members: it cuts to the heart of deliberation, of democracy, and the livelihoods of workers everywhere. In response to these protests, the Center for Democratic Deliberation presents a “Flash Forum”—an event organized with due speed to respond to the exigencies of the moment—to give members of our campus and community an opportunity to consider what this issue might mean for people in Pennsylvania and especially for students at Penn State.

We have invited a group of people who know something about unions, labor, collective action, and/or collective bargaining to briefly share their thoughts on these matters, and we invite you to join our discussion.

Featured Presenters:

John Marsh, Assistant Professor, Department of English

Emma Gaalaas Mullaney, Graduate Student, Geography & Women's Studies

Paul F. Clark, Professor and Chair, Department of Labor Studies and Employment Relations

Samuel Zucker, Undergraduate Student, College of Liberal Arts

Dominic Sgro, Director, Southwestern Pennsylvania Public Employees Council 83, AFSCME

 

Date: Tuesday, March 1

Time: 2:30-4:00 pm

Place: Memorial Lounge, Pasquerilla Spiritual Center

 

 

 

In Memoriam: Summer Smith Taylor

 

Summer Smith Taylor passed away today. She was in palliative care, a term that is usually only circumstantially good (in that it focuses on providing comfort) after being stricken last month with Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS) that resulted in insurmountable and systemic complications, including extensive brain damage.

Just typing those words makes me cold.

Word only started to get out this past week about the gravity of Summer's condition, and as I scrambled to contact our friends from graduate school, overlaying grief with clinical description, my mind crowded with images of Summer from her graduate school years. 

Summer darting around downtown State College--she was small but quick--running errands, taking care of stuff. Her signature thick, strawberry-blonde hair. Her combination of warmth and drive. Her phenomenal end-of-term presentation in Chris Haas's research methods seminar. Summer's work was so stellar that Chris stopped everything after her presentation to explain to the rest of us how we could do better, be more like Summer. Summer's blush. (Those last two memories came in rapid succession.) Summer running a meeting at the Leonhard Center Technical Writing Initiative, which she directed. And boy, could she run a meeting: she taught me how. She was ever organized, always brimming with ideas, and she tolerated my and Blake's joking around with a sweetness to be cherished.

Summer with her parents, again downtown.  They would walk all around together, and she always looked so happy and relaxed when she was with them. Summer at graduation (above right), gown flowing, hood neatly draped over her arm.

Blake and I squealed with delight when he told me that CCCC featured a panel focused exclusively on Summer's work, her full name in the title and everything (I can't locate the title, but I think it was something like "Calling Summer Smith"), and how Summer stood up in the audience after the panel and began her question with "I'm Summer Smith." I'm sure that got good laughs. And I am equally sure she blushed when it did. And then proceeded to say something worth heeding.

Those of us who knew Summer, especially those of us from Penn State and her long-time colleagues at Clemson where she worked for 10+ years, not to mention--dear God--her husband Rob, daughter Eva, her parents and in-laws, struggle with the magnitude of this loss. Summer was a leader, a questioner, and above all a sweet and happy person.

We are all bereft.

 

hypotheticals: Pittsburgh

It is both comforting and disconcerting to wake up in a city you lived in for a year, a city you fell in love with instantly and left abruptly.

JM, the bean and I woke up in Pittsburgh, to its snow-spitting skies, its ash-tinted slush, its gray, taupe, and brown buildings. We trudged over to the Rite Aid on Forbes, through the bottom floor of the Cathedral with all its gorgeous arches, where JM confessed he never went past the fifth floor (those elevators are pretty scary); by the little restaurants where we had drinks or an occasional lunch; by the bus stop where we shivered under coat hoods with other people heading to the east end, the other side of Frick Park.

As we walked, and the Bean stared with wide eyes at the store windows and buses and stone, we tried to work out what happened here, why we left, what might have happened had we stayed, whether we would have ended up exactly where we are now, whether we would have had the bean.

All these questions are as unavoidable as they are unanswerable. I tend to agree with the horse dealer in True Grit: "I do not entertain hypotheticals. The world as it is is vexing enough."

Even so, we sure do miss the food trucks, the baseball, and the bridges.