Hello everyone,

It’s finals week.

There will be no extra credit in the course, my lovelies. I know you are worried about passing the course, or about getting a “B” instead of an “A”, but here’s the deal: At this point in the semester, when I have a ton of final papers to grade, I am not going to create an additional assignment for you (which I will also have to grade).

You don’t have time to do another assignment, especially if you couldn’t find time to do the regular work you were given during the semester.

The assignments I gave throughout the course are how you prove to me that you understand the material. You can’t pass the class on “extra credit” points. Do the work that’s given.

Look, I’ve walked in your shoes. I know what it’s like to be a student (trust me – I’ve collected all the diplomas. I have 5 college degrees. I’ve spent most of my life in classrooms). I understand the performance anxiety that many of you are feeling, and I truly hope that you will someday come to understand that excellence is built in the day-to-day stuff we do. There aren’t any shortcuts, you can’t “cram” for the exams of life, and the world rarely gives second chances, let alone extra credit.

Sorry it’s been a rant today. I’m really, really tired (and so is Nellie),

Annette

Dear friends,

I’m not mad anymore.

I used to get angry at my large lecture students for tuning out. There they sat, in their theatre-style seats, facing a stage on which I was “professing” my heart out, and they seemed trapped inside their heads. I wanted them to engage, to pay attention, to “participate,” yet they seemed unable to do so – why? Were they lazy? Unmotivated?

I tried a lot of things. I tried banning cell phones. I tried going “screens free” and making them take notes on paper. I tried abandoning all of that and letting them do as they pleased. I did not discern any notable difference between any of these tactics – and also, they seemed rather punitive. As a student explained to me one day, “Sometimes I feel like professors don’t like young people. They don’t understand what our daily lives are like, and they don’t want to.”

This was revelatory. I certainly didn’t want to convey that message. Moreover, I began to wonder if, in the case of large lectures, the space itself was the problem. The layout of a lecture hall can automatically cast the professor in the role of performer, and the student in the role of an audience member. Recall the last time you attended a large event, with a single performer at the front of the room. Did you sneak a glance at your phone? (I do). Did you arrive late or leave early? Did you raise your hand to engage with the person at the front, or did you take on the rule of “anonymous member of the crowd?”

It occurs to me that we are “blaming the victims” here, in a sense. Put students in the role of audience members, and that’s how they will behave. We have a social script for that. They are simply playing their part in an environment they think they know. Professors blame themselves too. We think, I could sing, dance, juggle flaming swords, and they wouldn’t be interested. We work hard to be “interesting,” and it doesn’t seem to work.

So what now?

Well, I try to care, to connect, to see them as individuals. When I’m feeling irritated, I remind myself to look out over the room with love. It’s not my job to entertain them, but I can send a blessing over them. I can remember what it’s like to be young, and unsure of what life is going to bring next. I can remember that it isn’t personal. I can remind myself that they didn’t wake up this morning and enter the world trying to think of ways to irritate me (seriously, we’re all caught up in our own stuff, am I right?)

I can do my best, and give my best.

Annette (and Nellie, hanging out on the back of the recliner)

Hello friends,

I’ve been reflecting on how my students often refer to life after college as “the real world” – as if the academy is an interlude from the daily grind, a womb-like place where everyone can relax into the comfort of being young and having few responsibilities. I find this both understandable and irksome.

I get it, I really do. In some ways, college seems like an extension of high school, of childhood, a period of waiting for adulthood to begin. The students who feel this way are usually privileged, able to view their college years as a time to hang out with friends, to drink and party, and occasionally go to class. It’s also a time to learn how to cook, do laundry, and find your footing as a grownup person.

But that’s certainly not the norm anymore. An increasing number of my students are what we used to call “nontraditional” (the preferred term these days is “contemporary learners”) – older than 22, already working, parenting, taking care of younger siblings or elderly relatives, struggling to pay the bills. These folks aren’t waiting for life to begin – they’re trying to fit a myriad of tasks and responsibilities into a day that’s too short, with limited resources.

I encourage my students to see this period of life as a chapter, rather than an interlude. As with any book chapter, it’s part of the story. It’s not the whole story, but it’s an integral part, and the plot is advancing throughout. The “real world” isn’t something that happens to the characters when the story’s over, it IS the story.

Every one of my students arrives in the classroom by a different path, and will follow divergent roads when they leave. But this experience won’t be a blank space in their lives. I hope each of them will be able to find the meaning in this time, and reflect on how it’s shaping the people they will become.

Annette (and Nellie, who is currently making the most of her life by watching birdies)

Today I visited my dad in the “old folks’ home” (he’s 99 and in an assisted living center). As we sat in his living room talking, the door from the hall opened. I turned around at the noise, and saw a very tiny, very elderly lady standing in the doorway. She smiled at me, and then started walking into dad’s bathroom.

I followed her and asked, “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Her name was Joy, and she was lost. (She was also only wearing one shoe). I offered to take her back to her room, and we went down the hallway together. Did she know her room number? No. Was it this one? No. How about this one? No. We walked the whole wing, and I spotted a couple of the patient assistants, and called them over.

This is Joy, I said, and she is lost.

Lost again, Joy? they asked her. You’ve gone wandering again? And with only one shoe?

They thanked me, and returned Joy to her room.

Now I can’t stop singing that old Sunday school song, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart.” And I’m pondering how, almost a century ago, a baby girl was born, and they named her Joy.

God bless Joy.

Dear friends,

I’m getting back into book reviews here in advance of the new year. Stay tuned for lots of reading!

I recently finished the book Enough by Cassidy Hutchinson:

You may remember her as the young woman who served as a top aide to Trump’s chief of staff Mark Meadows, and who recently testified before the “January 6th committee” about her recollections from her time in that position. The book is a memoir of her time in that job, interacting with top officials including the president.

To me, the book is interesting because I always enjoy an insider’s view of important events, and also because it examines the culture of power where a young woman like Ms. Hutchinson can become easily overwhelmed by conflicting demands from prominent people (read: men). When she finds herself in need of a lawyer and unable to afford one, she is provided with legal counsel from “Trump World,” but soon realizes that if she wants to speak freely, she’s going to have to cut ties with her former circle of acquaintances and coworkers. She finds a supportive mentor in Liz Cheney, who helps her navigate the uncertain territory of congressional testimony.

In some ways, it’s a tough read. A young woman is given a lot of responsibility, and manages to succeed in her high-pressure position, only to find herself unable to celebrate that success as events unspool around her. Theoretically, she should have been able to get just about any job she wanted afterwards, yet she found herself shunned by most of the people she’d trusted. I’m glad she wrote this book and I hope it helps her get on her feet financially. She certainly deserves that.

She still identifies as a Republican. I hope she remains active in the party, and is instrumental in its revival. I identify as a Democrat, but I respect moderate voices all around, and people who are willing to work with others to find mutually agreeable solutions.

My moment as “armchair psychologist” (this is why I enjoy memoirs) – Cassidy’s father was a strong and demanding man, and in her job, she was also surrounded by strong and demanding men. I wonder if this was, in some way, a comfort to her, if she was inclined to trust them. It took her a while to come around to the conclusion that not all of these people were worthy of her confidence, and to decide that she’d had “Enough.”

A good read, recommended. Find more of my book reviews on Goodreads.

Blessings,

Annette (and Nellie)

Dear friends,

At this time of year, I often fall into the trap of thinking I’ve just got to keep going and going and going (like that famous pink bunny). I have hundreds of papers to grade, Christmas gifts to buy, the house is a mess, and there aren’t enough hours in the day. What about you? Are you in a similar place?

In a culture that normalizes (even celebrates) “busy-ness,” it’s tough to take a break. If we stop to breathe, how will it all get done? Will the world stop turning if we stop running on the wheel that makes it go? I rush from place to place till it’s all a blur, and there’s no satisfaction in accomplishing anything.

My friends, I’m here to tell you – to testify – that the world won’t stop turning if you take a pause. Your family won’t starve to death, the stars won’t fall from the sky. Just take a moment. Reflect. Breathe. Decide what’s most important to you right now. Look back over what you’ve done, and what is meaningful to you. Breathe again.

Write yourself a note if you have to.

I haven’t mastered this myself, but I’m getting better. I’ve even learned to nap occasionally, which is a new thing for me, but I find that a short snooze replenishes my energy supply. Going to bed earlier, and getting a full 8 hours of sleep, also helps a lot.

Please nurture yourself this holiday season. Allow yourself time to rest and reflect. Sometimes you’ll need to press pause, and I’m telling you it’s okay.

Blessings,

Annette

Hello lovely friends,

How often in our lives do we think, “I have arrived!” I’m guessing not often, for most of us. We see ourselves on a path, a journey to somewhere, but is there any “getting there?” Or do we just keep moving the goalposts?

I’m at a strange age right now – 60. I’m entering a stage of life where I’m no longer young, yet I don’t feel old. I suppose I’m on the brink of being a “senior citizen,” but I don’t yet embrace that identity. My grandmother, who lived to be 96, used to tell me that you always feel like the same person inside. I imagine her son, my 98-year old dad, feels the same. Even he doesn’t seem “old” to me.

Many of my students are also in one of these “between” stages – no longer a kid, but not quite feeling like an adult, not just yet. For many of them, it’s a time to experiment with being grown up, but they can still rely on family for support. Others find themselves having to practice adulthood before their time, before they’d ideally like to. Some of them are still searching for a soft place to land.

We have this cultural joke that “adulting is hard.” I remember really feeling like a grownup when I bought my first brand-new car, all by myself, without anyone else’s consent or advice. I chose the model and color I wanted, financed it myself. These events are scary, but also really liberating – a lesson in trusting oneself.

Perhaps that’s the mark of maturity – self-trust. We’ve all been let down, and wondered if we can ever trust others again (especially after a romantic failure), but I think the key to “moving on” lies in trusting yourself. I’ll choose better next time. I won’t be fooled next time. I will learn to be wary, in a healthy way, to ask for what I need, to refuse to be bullied or ignored.

The next stage of life is uncharted territory, but I’m so much wiser than I used to be. So are you.

Blessings,

Annette

Dear friends,

It’s midterm time! – also known as the point in the semester where many of us are feeling behind, and could really use a break (thankfully, WMU has a “fall break” in the second half of this week, which means an extra-long weekend. Would be nice to fill it with fun and leisure, but I’ll be catching up on work).

Most of our endeavors have this “slump in the middle,” don’t they? We reach a point where we are exhausted, and need to regroup, recover, reflect. It’s good to stop for a moment and take a sincere look at how we’re doing, mentally, physically, emotionally, and to consider what we need to be our better selves.

On a daily basis, I hit this slump around 3 p.m. I don’t know if it’s a blood sugar crash, or lack of sleep catching up on me, but I always feel like I could use a nap around that time. These are the times when I remind myself why I started the task in the first place. For longer endeavors, there will always come a point when they’re not as engaging as they were at first, not as fun as we expected them to be, yet we still have some ground to cover before reaching the finish line. We have to find our strength again.

Let’s take a minute to rediscover the joy in our routines.

Blessings,

Annette