Not Defending the Academic Summer

My last class of the semester was Wednesday, May 15... My next class will be Thursday, Sept. 5.

Do those sentences engender envy, longing, admiration, jealousy, anger, revolt or a simmering emotion somewhere in between? My non-teaching friends imagine my academic summer as three-months of Saturdays lounging on the back deck in a Grateful Dead Concert T-Shirt, eating chocolate bon-bons, and staring up at the sky creating fantasies from cloud shapes.

Now, I'm not going to try to defend an archaic school schedule based on our agrarian past. Everyone knows that students are not released, in most cases, to work on the family farm during the summer months. Though maligned, our current school schedule is an accepted tradition: sort of like hiding a pickle on the Christmas Tree. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's tradition and is not going to change.

Though I have long since retired my Grateful Dead T-Shirt, I'll admit I do look forward to the break and try to take advantage of the time off. Naturally, family vacations are planned during the summer. Our children are married during the summer, and births planned for June/July delivery -- just count back nine months. Honey-do lists checked off, and doctor and dentist appointments scheduled. We have three months to get our health back after having trashed it for nine. A caffeinated diet only goes so far.

Teachers who are still working on advanced degrees, squeeze in as many classes as possible, in addition to professional workshops and conferences. At my college, it is expected that faculty attend at least 40-hours of professional development each year. Summer is the best time to do that, because we just don't have the time during the school year. Conferences during the school year mean we have to find substitutes to teach our students. That's something most faculty would rather not do.

Summer is also the time for department planning meetings; for joining interview committees; for cleaning up, redesigning and remodeling classroom space; for preparing new lesson plans; and writing new curriculum. This is the time to crack open the bright and shiny textbooks that were shipped to us just before Easter and have sat unopened under the desk until now. This is the time to explore new software and Internet learning sites, and to wonder how the iPad could be added to the classroom?  And, some instructors do accept summer teaching assignments. I did that last year and enjoyed it.

But mostly, the academic summer is a time to recharge the batteries, to rediscover why we do what we do and prepare for the next school year. I'm not trying to make excuses here. This is not a hidden perk. The summer break is a well-known benefit of the academic job, like dental or eye care, or an executive wellness center. I just want to point out that our summers are as busy as neighbors in the private sector. Just like others, we find we rarely have the time to lounge on the back deck and wonder at the shape of the now flying quickly by.

OnCourse Affirmation

I was looking out the west-facing window at nothing in particular: gray rain skies moving quickly south to north, trees showing spring green over residential rooftops, and a construction crane looming over the Lambeau Field scoreboard. If there was a clock in the room, I would have been glancing at it. At times I miss a watch.

"Doug, you are a caring, creative, and enthusiastic man."

Did I really hear that, or was I just imagining things at the end of a long school year and three-day workshop? Sometimes the mind does wander during long seminars. I brought my focus back. I was one of half the group who was seated in chairs in an elongated semi-circle, our backs to the center of the circle. 

Move movement behind me; then, "Douglas, you are a reliable, efficient, and effective man."

About 45 staff members (support, advisors, and faculty) from the college were in the third day of a three-day workshop on student and personal success called OnCourse, created by academic visionary Skip Downing. The workshop's organization and focus repackaged proven classroom techniques in a fresh way to engage, inspire, and instruct. The workshop leader, Robyn, from OnCourse central, demonstrated the eight OnCourse principals in imaginative, interactive ways, such as the Affirmation Whisper. Two days ago we had written three personal affirmation for ourselves and, now, Robyn asked the class to anonymously whisper those affirmations to others who sat in the circle.

I could make out affirmations behind compatriots at my left and at my right. Words fell just below direct hearing, but occasionally ("funny," "helpful," "knowledgeable," "resilient") rose above the ambient music and the shuffling of people moving around behind us. Sound in the room rose and fell in random patterns like a gentle chant that twisted around then separated from the notes of the music. The exercise lasted for 45-seconds and then the seated and whisperers switched roles. Another 45-seconds and it was over. The exercise, though short, seemed cathartic. The repetitions of the whispers, the quiet movement of people behind, were a welcome and appreciated respite.

True, this exercise was hyper touchy-feely and way, way outside the usual comfort zone of a tech college instructor. And true, this exercise required a level of trust that might not be found in a casual classroom. A few of the ideas and some of exercises demonstrated during OnCourse were like that. But, most would work with our students. The ideas behind the OnCourse material were solid and persuasive. Most of the ideas would very definitely work with our students.

Tears, Hugs, and End of Year Honors

The end of the school year breakfast is short on speeches and long on recognition. After brief remarks by the president of the college and presentation of a list of retirees and service certificates, the rest of the program focuses on a half-dozen awards given to staff members for service to the college, their colleagues, their students, and to the profession.

This year, I noticed that every award winner protested their recognition. Over and over again, they said, "I can't believe I'm getting this award. I'm just doing what I love to do. I'm just doing my job." They honestly did not believe their efforts merited this recognition because, in their minds, they were just doing what everyone else was doing. In their minds, they were doing nothing special. That, in my opinion, makes them even more deserving.

These folks quietly, effectively, and consistently do their job. They are colleagues, collaborators, and, on occasion, co-conspirators. They represent the best among us. They attend meetings, respond to emails, come to work early, stay late and bravely try to keep up with the latest version of Blackboard.

I suppose just "doing the job" may seem an old-fashioned idea in today's world. If you're not self-promoting on YouTube, you're not real, right? Getting up, going to work everyday is not sexy enough for some (not these) who mark their progress on a self-centered scorecard. Doing the job you were hired to do, doing it with pride and doing it to the best of your abilities, is a midwestern value. It's something most of us were raised to do. It's also something the comb-over egos who flit about either coast just don't understand.

Nominations for the awards had been quietly collected months before the ceremony, so the actual announcement is often a surprise to those who receive the honor. Usually, it is not a surprise to the rest of us: we know who are the hard workers. As the honorees come forward, sometimes teary-eyed, their families, who were in on the secret, are brought forward from a side room to share the standing ovation from the college. Tears, hugs, and honors are a good way to end the school year. Recognizing our best, recognizes all of us.

   

Happiness is a Clean Inbox

I have one email in my Inbox right now. Yep, just one. That feels pretty good.

That's not how it was a couple of hours ago. Yesterday and today, I was in a solid string of meetings and classes and did not have breaks to screen and process incoming email. By the time I started to seriously clear the file, there were three-plus screens of emails to process, which are quite a few after just two days. People seem to be tumbling over each other to post their thoughts. Screens and screens of emails make me almost physically uncomfortable. Panic sets in. Delay and procrastination freeze my fingers. I need to practice deep breathing exercises as I methodically answer, file or delete the emails.

My habit is to sort and store emails in a couple dozen folders in Outlook. Those folders house the archives of my colleagues and the organization of my thoughts. The Inbox, on the other hand, represents active business that either needs to be attended to or is waiting for a reply from others. It's better than sticky notes in a day-timer. What's a day-timer? That's another blog.

Early in my career, I remember that most mail was, what is now called, snail mail. Looking at mail, meant physically opening sealed envelopes to see what the postman brought. I have a really cool letter opener with a carved wooden handle from those days, though it's sitting in at the bottom of my desk drawer now. I now use it to break down cardboard boxes from Amazon. Your "Inbox" was an open box on the corner of your desk that was, well, a box. During busy days, the paper correspondence flipped off the top of the pile when someone passed too close to your desk. Tottering mountains of correspondence would fall and scatter across the floor. 

Email has eliminated almost all postal piles and has kept the office floor relatively free of paper. In fact, I don't recall the last time I received an outside letter at the office: interoffice mail with sign-up sheets for the golf league doesn't count. The metal, wooden, or wire cage in-box has been replaced by computer monitor, keyboard, and CPU. The electronics take up a lot more room.

Back in the day, getting to the bottom of the Inbox meant you were caught up. Nothing more would come until the next mail delivery at 10 a.m. You could go home content that you had done your paper-pushing best. Now, the good feeling lasts only a moment until you start receiving emails in reply to the emails that you replied to just moments ago.

At the moment, however, I have just one email in my Inbox. It won't last, but, for now, it feels pretty good. 

Finally Sleeping with the Windows Open

We've been able to sleep with the window open for the past couple of weeks. No snow, no sleet, no ice. No danger of waking up shivering in freezing temperatures and arguing about who should get up to shut the window. Just the song of birds in the morning and the rush of traffic outside.

This has been a too long winter that began sometime in November and didn't really break until two weeks ago: five and a half months of closed windows, of turning inward. At first, you don't notice it. When windows are first closed and latched, Thanksgiving and Christmas keep our attention on family and friends. We look past the browns and grays of dead things in the yard, and the subdued sun that barely clears the treetops of the horizon. 

January and February snows whitewash the sins of the past year and promise a new beginning to the next. The landscape sleeps quietly under a down of crystal that sparkles in the day and glows from moon light during long black winter nights. We try to work with the weather and keep busy with winter sports and the adventure of snow-days. But, that novelty wears thin by the end of February. March usually is the turning point from winter to spring, reducing snow banks to gray memories. But not this year. More snow, sleet and ice (unusual for the Northeast Wisconsin traveler), and low temperatures kept the windows shut 30 to 45 days longer than usual. Our 75-inches of snow is nowhere near a record, but the late and consistent buildup was unnerving.

Everyone seemed tired in April this year, exhausted by the daily battle with winter that overstayed its welcome. For both staff and students at the college, our main topic was the weather as we looked up at low blue-gray snow clouds, checked the weather app, and calculated another difficult commute. Wisconsinites are a tough bunch, but the relentlessness of winter had worn us down.

The last week in April, with temperatures finally in the 50s and 60s, our collective mood seemed to lighten. Windows opened and short-sleeves rather than parkas were the clothing of choice. Pickup basketball was played in the driveway again, skateboards kicked down the street, lawn furniture brushed off and polished up, and the smoke from grills wafted over the neighborhood. The NFL draft reminded us of summer training camp. Runners, training for the May marathon, worried less about black ice under the snow and more on their split times. I even heard the neighborhood 50-something rock band practicing with the garage door open once again.

The arrival of spring brings new energy to everyone. It's good to have the windows unlatched and open once again. It's good to have the outside world back in our lives.