b l o g o s

reflections on my first sabbatical

I have been avoiding writing this post, because once I write it that means--performatively--my sabbatical is over. And so given that classes start tomorrow, it is (over), and so I will (write about it), with the cold grammatical comfort of the adjective "first," helpfully implying that there will be more. I have decided that sabbatical is, hands down, the very best thing about this profession. It's better than being able to go biking at 1 p.m. on a gorgeous afternoon if you don't have a meeting scheduled (and that's pretty damn good). It's better than May, June, and July (anyone who claims that August counts as summer in this profession is either delusional, high, or on the quarter system).

My sabbatical had a nice mix of professional and personal schtuff, of finished and launched projects, of travel (for work and for play), and staying at home for days on end, writing, gardening, and learning to make indian food. I liked that mix.

The biggest thing I noticed, though, is that it takes work to make a sabbatical good. First off, you have to say no repeatedly. I learned that at this university, the sabbatical is the only time one has license to do that. And even though I was asked to do things I would normally say yes to--like be on a search committee for a new classics head--I had to force myself say no. That was harder than it sounds. I did a (mostly) in-town sabbatical, and that meant that I needed to stay away from campus, to make my house my work spot, especially during the week. I managed that by working out a deal with my advisee, K, who managed my mail in exchange for the use of my campus office. I couldn't sneak in there, then, without getting caught by K. As part of our deal, every other Sunday I would go in and sift through mail stuff. This only took an hour or two. This meant that my office was remarkably tidy all semester long. It's already getting messy again.

Also hard was the need to regulate contact with graduate students. But I got good advice from experienced sabbaticalers, and I limited contact to 1) when they had amassed a number of pressing questions, or 2) when they had writing ready for me to read. It turns out that for the most part, the dissertators got a lot done, and no one else lost their way.

Including the buffer summer, I was able to wrap up four writing projects, including two wee little ones start to finish, and two larger ones that had been ongoing. I also started a habit of reading through new journal issues while working out at the gym, so I feel a little more in touch with "the field" than I do when I'm covered up with teaching and meetings. I hope to continue that, but I'm not sure my unsabbaticaled brain can take it. I may need to revert to the trash I normally read. Today, for example, I dipped into the latest Vanity Fair. How about that Christopher Hitchens going and getting himself waterboarded?

The travels in April were definitely the peak of sabbatical. I went to Dublin as a conference spouse, which meant I didn't do anything related to work, and even went on to Portugal with JM's sister. I also got to visit a couple of places to give talks. It's always nice to test-drive new writing, to meet new people, and to see old friends.

I thought I would miss the daily interactions with colleagues a bit more, and now that I'm back at it--poking my head in people's offices, stopping and chatting in the hall--I realize I probably did miss that. But a break from the dailies can be quite good, and a break I had. I can't say I'm totally ready to get back into it all, but the energy level is good, I am feeling grateful to have such a good job, and as my Greek teacher used to say at the beginning of every class, "ho kairos estin." It is time.

 

book-making

This morning, with the last days of sabbatical draining away, and with today being Monday, and my nocturnal clock still being just enough on European time to be waking up with lots of energy at 5 am, I decided it was time. I started reading for my next book.

It's so wee and nascent right now, this next book, which (perhaps paradoxically) means it is huge. And that means I have license to read capaciously this summer, as I figure out what the chapters might be like, expanding and/or ditching the ideas I have already.

It is also the case that this will be the first book that I have started as a book. My first one, of course, began as a dissertation, a wholly different beast in emotional and intellectual heft. The second one began as an article that spun out of control. This one, though, this one is starting as a book. (We'll see if it ends that way.)

Someone asked me recently how long it takes to write a book, and that is a tough question, in that it depends on the book itself, and even more importantly, on the position one is in when writing that book. So, for example, I wrote my last book partly as an assistant professor with lots of time for writing, and partly as an associate professor; the first book, partly as a graduate student with all the time in the world, and partly as an assistant professor. (Note how time always seems to expand when looking backward. I think this is a real condition of faculty life, or at least for faculty life where I work, but that might be for another post.) In effect, then, the first book, from conception to covers, took about eight years. Although if I were to count the response paper I wrote as a first-semester M.A. student that tried to articulate the ancient relation between sports and rhetoric, then it took more like twelve years, but that seems a bit long. And counting the protracted period when I worked on the second book as an article, that second one will have taken about eight years too. These two overlapped for a few years, though, in that I started the second book-as-article well before finishing the revisions on the first one. So I can count on eight years till this next one is done, right? I hope not, but if that's what it takes, then totally. And it might well take longer. I'd love to hear how long others' books have taken/are taking. I'm sure there is lots of variance, because we all work with such different rhythms and under widely divergent conditions. I've learned that my long-term projects tend to have lots of stops and starts by necessity.

This book has been percolating for almost two years now; I would say it started in the early fall of 2006, and Burke (from the book just finished) gave me the idea. I read enough then to write a sabbatical proposal, and last spring I found lots of leads for it when teaching history of rhetoric. But then I set it aside this year while finishing that second book. And now my program for the summer (and, let's face it, next year) will be to read and think broadly before settling on--and into--the texts I will focus on specifically. This morning I started with Aristotle's History of Animals, which is ten books and three loeb volumes long. Reading and thinking about animals in the history of rhetoric will most likely, like the last books, take me into biology, religion, politics, and education. And who better to start with than the dude who wrote about all of these matters, as well as rhetoric? It's still early, but I must say that I don't think I'll soon tire of reading about horses and elephants and otters and dogs, and thinking about how they have--some quietly and some noisily--shaped our views on language.

making bodies move

I'm home from a fantastic trip. There's so much to say about the port-tasting, about how awesome JM's sister is, about the joys of European breakfasts and urban hiking, or even about how much I love the days and weeks following a return from the east, because I wake up so early without effort. But instead I want to ruminate a little on stuff related to what I write about professionally. I guess that's what I get for setting aside work for a couple of weeks.

On one of our hilly urban treks, I believe on our way up to what we thought was a convent with beautiful tile, KM and I cut through one of Porto's many lovely parks. Here we saw a series of sculptures of three men laughing.

They are perched on what looks like a steep set of bleachers, surrounded by the lush placidity of portuguese landscape. And they are laughing themselves silly--even to the point where one guy has fallen backwards. I write about this a little in Bodily Arts, but ancient greeks knew better than anyone how tough it is to make a sculpture appear to be in motion; movement, after all, is almost antithetical to the durable solidity of bronze and marble.

But they got better and better at it, and eventually they were able to lose the wings and other add-ons that were meant to symbolically indicate movement. Now, these are by no means high quality sculptures, and one might say that the guy falling backwards ought to be a little more concerned, or at least that his arms might have changed from the leg-slapping guffaw to an "oh-shit" self-catch. But there are other ways that the motion of laughter is captured quite nicely here. There are the curled feet of the guy to the left, especially visible in the picture on the right. There are the different bodily styles of laughter--one leans forward, reaching to slap the ground or swat the air, while another throws back his head, and the third his whole self. The thing I like most about this little sculpture set is how it goes against the staid solemnity of most sculptures. All over Dublin, for example, as in most cities, there were those erect statues of leaders and revolutionaries, their chests raised to the sky, looking out over the roundabout or the city, faces grim, sometimes with women and weapons swirling at their feet. But these guys in the park are nameless anybodies. They are bent and gasping for air. They are laughing their asses off.

Somewhat relatedly, because it also involves depicting movement, the thing I noticed in Dublin and Portugal (and also Lisbon) is the ever-so-slight variants in the lighted sign that indicates it's okay to walk across the street now. I don't have photos of these (though I wish I did). The U.S. has relatively bland walking men. In Dublin, though, the walking man is slightly hunched, and he appears to have his fists clenched (he is probably cold). In Portugal the chests of the walking men are puffed out. One in particular, by the river and near where all the wineries are, looks like he's been doing some serious weight training, and he holds his chin high. The faceless man in the sign walks with purpose. Both the hunched, clenched Dubliner and the proud Portuguese seem, in their own ways, to book.

And finally, the owners of a little glass restaurant where the ocean meets the river in Porto seem to know that the real thing that distinguishes men's from women's bathrooms is not so much what they wear, but how they get down to it.
    

oh, porto!

random bullets of novelty

My goodness, but this winter is dragging on. JM and I have done a pretty good job of late kicking up the new around here in an attempt to patch ourselves through to some warmer weather, and for my part, to make the most of this here radical sabbatical. To wit:

• On Saturday we rode to Indy with our friends to taste some beer and eat some yummy food at a place we've never been before. Heck, we never go to Indianapolis, only through it. So that in itself was new.

• Last week I ordered some xc skis via ebay and they came the day before we got a few inches of snow so that my (sweaty!) workout that day was swishing all around the neighborhood on my new skis, just to figure things out. My arms were sore for a few days after that, but yeah, this place was made for cross country skiing.

• I've been trying out some new Indian and Thai recipes. Last week was chicken with chilis and onions served with curried cauliflower as a side (both from an Indian cookbook given to us by E!), and tonight I made spicy Thai chicken with rice.

• Over the weekend, I ordered a new pair of stripy spring pants in anticipation of wearing something besides wool or fleece someday. We'll see about that.

• Cheeky prof's query about feed aggregators led me to finally set up google reader. I know I'm late to this game, but damn, it does make a difference.

• I've also been reading for that new article and thinking about starting to read stuff for another new (and bigger) study. But having put that Burke book to bed (or at least down for a nap), I'm definitely more interested in alternative forms of the new at the moment.

• After listening to a PRI story Josh recommended about voice in politics that features extensive commentary by a vocal trainer, I looked into vocal trainers in Chicago and I think I'm going to make an appointment to learn some vocal techniques. I don't really care about developing a better voice--though I'm sure I could stand to--but I am totally interested in the teaching techniques and the way a good portion of the body must get involved.

So yeah, go new!

    

sabbatical FAQs: a midterm checkin

I'm learning that sabbatical brings with it a number of frequently asked questions, and I'm listing some of them here, with my frequently given answers.

Q: Are you doing anything fun on your sabbatical?

A: Yes, I'm going to Ireland and Portugal in April. And I got a nice long visit with my family in Tennessee. And I have some talk engagements that I'm planning to combine with fun stuff like baby visits and bike rides and hikes. And I'm cooking a lot and hanging around the house a lot. And I'm doing a lot of leisure reading and have started watching shows like Desperate Housewives. These I consider fun things. This afternoon I'm taking the dogs for a snow hike. Maybe I'll post some pictures.

Q: (This one comes with a suspicious 'but I know you' look): Are you really managing to stay away?

A: Weeeellllll, I could do better on this front, I'll admit. I am very strict about not going into the office during normal business hours, and I'm ever-grateful for K, who is managing my mail and keeping me out of my office. That said, I have had two days of "unsabbatical" so far, one involving an important review, and another an important interview. And then last week in an attempt to avoid grad recruiting, I called a prospective grad student from one of my departments. That backfired, though, because I liked him so much and wanted him to come so badly that I immediately signed up for the recruitment lunch. And then today I heard from a prospective in my other department and couldn't resist meeting with her either. But one for each department: that's my limit. For others I'll happily call--my days being recruited in high school taught me a thing or two about phone recruiting--but my travel schedule is picking up, so there won't be any more meetings.

Q: What do you do about your current graduate students?

A: They're being patient. And they're doing a great job giving advance notice for fellowship letters and whatnot, just like I asked them to. And the calendar idea that Caraf gave me was genius.  I may not be meeting them face to face, but I'm reading things they send, and they're getting a lot of good writing done. Hooray! Rumor has it that they think I'm being too quick to reply on email, so I think I need to work on that. But if I let things slide up the inbox, I would definitely forget.

Q: What are you saying when journal editors ask you to do reviews?

A: I'm saying yes. I'd rather reserve the right to say no when I'm so busy that I can't possibly do it.

Q: What's the one thing that is impossible to avoid?

A: Why, email of course. Lots of people do those auto-replies, but after having gotten like 15 of those from one person this year, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'll put one up when I'm traveling, though. And I would try checking email once every other day or something, but things would just pile up and make me crazy. So I don't know what is to be done about that. It's a rather intractable situation.

Q: Are you getting a lot of writing done?

A: Ahhh. The time to write and develop projects is quite lovely. The best thing about sabbatical.

Q: Do you ever take a break?

A: Believe me, this is a break. Now, the sun is out so I'm going hiking. 

springtime travel

The final details for my upcoming trips are falling into place, and I'm excited! Starting at the end of this month, they (or rather, I) go in the following order:

College Park, MD
New Orleans
Columbia, MO
Dublin
Lisbon and Porto (Portugal)
Elizabethtown, IL
Seattle

Looks like I'll spend the next few weeks getting my talk ducks in a row and dreaming about warmer weather.

happy woman professor day

This morning I had to send a flurry of emails to rearrange my teaching schedule for next year, and I am amazed by how easy it all was. My two departments have wonderful administrators and staff members who can--and do--make things happen lickety split. I'm very pleased with how it all turned out; it looks like I'm going to be teaching my Aristotle and Rhetorical Studies course in the fall (a.k.a. "Spawn of the Dead").

In this course, we read through Aristotle's Rhetoric bit by bit, focusing on one main concept each week. These concepts include persuasion, philosophy, invention, topoi, phantasia, delivery, and more. And each week, in addition to reading the next section of the Rhetoric, we read "around" Aristotle's tome, which is to say, we'll look at writings by his contemporaries as well as a selection of secondary texts, in order to see both what A was responding to and also to consider how his writings have been taken up. The course is inspired by a wonderful classics course on A's Poetics taught by Helen Cullyer at the University of Pittsburgh, and it's designed to give grads a primer in ancient rhetoric, a stronger grasp of Aristotle, and a deep understanding of how A's concepts have shaped the field of rhetorical studies for better and worse.

How appropriate, then, to realize in the midst of the administrative breeziness and my pedagogical zeal that today marks the second annual Happy Woman Professor Day.

As the link above will show, HWPD asks women professors to post about things they like about their profession. One thing I love about my job at the moment is the fact that we get a sabbatical every six years. This is a pretty intense job with so. many. things and people to keep track of and such high expectations wrt research and publishing that it's very nice to be told to go away and focus on research for a semester. Very, very nice. And while this time gives me a chance to recharge my research batteries, I have also found that I've been increasingly fond of my colleagues of late, and (surprise) that I already feel excited about teaching again, when the time comes. So, mushy gushy. There it is.

Now if I can only remember to read this in, say, October.

unsabbatical/sabbatical

Today I have to go in to Lincoln Hall, a.k.a the office. I've been doing pretty well staying away during my sabbatical, only visiting there on the occasional Sunday to sift through my mail. Having one of my dissertating students writing her dissertation in my office also helps prevent me from sneaking in there. But I have to go in anyway, because I've agreed to meet with a job candidate (don't worry, dissertation student, I told the head I can't meet in my office!). It's a long boring administrative story about why I need to do this (the story, not the candidate), so I won't go into it at the moment. But it's going to be thirty minutes, in and out. Kind of like that episode of the office when Dwight shuns Andy, which means that he won't speak to him. Then it becomes necessary to speak to him, Dwight makes a vertical gesture--top to bottom--and says "unshun." After he's said his piece he reverses the gesture and makes the reverse gesture and says "shun." So for thirty minutes--and thirty minutes only--I will say "unsabbatical."

And then I'll grab lunch at my favorite vegan spot on campus.

a pretty good day around these parts

We should have known today would be good when we woke up and learned that JM's physical type is now all the vogue on the runways. Later in the morning I got some good news in the publishing arena, and JM notched his first victory against his formidable racquetball partner. He celebrated with a nap while I took some mushy food over to a friend recovering from a comprehensive wisdom tooth extraction (owie). Post-nap, JM received some good publishing news of his own, and we danced around the kitchen for a time.

Our friend T likes to point out that one nice thing about our profession, and perhaps the only up side to the protracted publication process, is that there are frequently little steps to celebrate--a draft completion, a good reader's report, an acceptance, a final off-the-desk edit, an appearance in print, a good review. And we all really must anticipate and celebrate those smaller steps, otherwise the drudgery can become overwhelming.

Another cold, gray day weather wise, but a low-key, happy day, a good evening to make some tea, edit some book reviews and write (still more) letters.