Monthly Archives: September 2009

Taking Classes


I spent some time scouring the course catalogs of university and colleges near and far yesterday in search of direction. It all began with the requirements for teaching licensure in Alberta, which reminded me that I have just three years left on my Iowa license, and I will need to take six accredited hours to maintain it.

Trouble is I am only really interested in taking writing courses and generally speaking, creative writing is the basket weaving of continuing education. No credit whatsoever is offered unless you happen to be in an MFA program. Getting accepted to an MFA program for writing is a lot like getting into a performing arts school like the one in the movie, Fame. You need a combination of academic cred and a bit more interest in literary fiction than the next guy or gal. It is also a good idea to be young and relatively unpublished in the mainstream and without real work experience beyond the part-time jobs you might have needed to pay for the stay your scholarships and student loans didn’t cover.

Here is my dilemma. In order to maintain teaching licenses, I need to take classes, but am I doing it for any other reason but an unreasonable fear that something might happen to Rob and I would need a real job again? Which isn’t all that unreasonable really. But the truth is that the only thing that would get me back into teaching at the secondary level would be desperate need of employment, so why bother? Why not let the license go? Apply for an Alberta one which would extend my ability to teach somewhere by another two or so years beyond the Iowa license expiring and then, depending, let that one go too?

And here is what irks me, the fact that writing courses that aren’t taught within the holy confines of an MFA program won’t earn me any college credit. With an M.A. I can theoretically teach at the college level, I am limited to education courses or entry level English. I couldn’t teach writing without an M.F.A, and all the writing courses I take and all the writing I do and any publishing I might get done, doesn’t mean anything.

There is no M.F.A program in the area, but even if there were, we aren’t going to be here much longer and won’t be anywhere for very long for a few years to come. Not time enough to start a program – provided one can be found – and finish it. Realistically, an M.F.A. program would have to wait until we came back from overseas and settled somewhere. Given the premium placed on youth and lack of real life experience, I will be that much older and that much more experienced. Writing is about the only career outside the performing arts where age and experience are negatives.

Rob points out to me that I would hardly be destitute if something happened to him, and he seriously doubts I would be inclined to frivolously spend insurance money – of which there is more than enough. And he’s right. Money doesn’t burn holes in my pockets. In fact, the more money I have, the less I tend to spend because I am my father’s daughter.

I think then this gets back to the idea of having a job. I had toyed with the idea of getting a part-time job, but it had to be a mother’s hours type thing, and they simply don’t exist. Sure, Dee could go to after school care. She’d be thrilled, but she learns enough questionable behavior from the kids she goes to school with at times for me to deliberately put in her a situation where she’d be exposed to more of that.

And there is the question of having all this education which is all but worthless outside of education. English is only slightly less disparaged as a major than education. Those who can’t – read books and work 9 months out of the year.

The writing classes offered are mostly offered at night and tend to be taught by people who can write but don’t know much about teaching. The same can be said of workshops for the most part. The teacher in me is sometimes too offended to learn though there is often not much being taught that I don’t already know. Which is the other problem.

Sigh with a small little grrrr.

The Progressive Death of a Macbook


My best friend talked me past my fear of buying on credit nearly three years ago when I purchased the 15 in Macbook that I use for most of my writing and blogging and general time wasting on the Internet. She convinced me that it was a reward for having completed my masters and securing a rather substantial pay raise in doing so. I hadn’t yet realized the money. My school district had established a policy of waiting to move people on the pay scale to mid-year where degree advancements were involved. I went from a B.A. 15 to a M.A. 30, so I suppose that deserved a bit of self-gifting. But I was never easy with credit. Over the years I had gradually lifted my self-imposed credit limits. It was sitting at an all time high of $2000 – and that’s total by the way not per card – because my parents had reneged on a promise to loan me the funds necessary for getting my masters in the first place. I’d had to charge the last few courses. The computer purchase was on my list of things to do in the spring, when I’d paid my folks back and gotten the credit paid off, but BFF’s arguments made sense. She pointed out that I really wasn’t as financially insolvent as I felt and that the sale price (one of those day after Thanksgiving things) made it silly for me to wait and then pay full price.

In the end the purchase was more a reward than I could have known. I had been using a desktop that was in my bedroom. When you are single, it really doesn’t matter where your office is. Dee was still sleeping with me and I couldn’t really be on the computer once she was in bed for the night because the light kept her up. The mac allowed me the freedom of wi-fi and I was able to be anywhere in the house. Without the freedom, I would not have been able to pursue my initial friendship with Rob to the extent that I did.

I often credit Steve Jobs – via the iPod/iTunes – with saving my sanity during the bleak months of hospice and early months of widowhood, but I guess he also deserves a nod for facilitating the courtship of Rob and I.

The mac though is suffering from the dreaded bluetooth is unavailable syndrome. It is a design flaw in the macs that Apple doesn’t seem to care enough about to fix because it strikes randomly and usually can be short-fixed for brief time spans if one is patient enough to put up with it and really enamored of her mighty mouse. The bluetooth issue will eventually result in the mac not being able to enter sleep mode because the bluetooth is constantly pinging for connection. Rob discovered that he could go in and either reroute the wire or disable it completely (that is the only real fix), but he wants me to find the paperwork to see if it is still under warranty first and then drag it over to the Apple store at the mega-mall. I am fairly certain that the latter will be a waste of time. I have availed myself of the genius bar at Apple’s stores before and found the techs to be just that – techs. If the problem is software, they might be able to help, but it it is hardware, they are useless and being where we are it would mean weeks without a computer because it would have to be sent away for repair.

Being without my mac is not all that much of a hardship. There are more computers in our house than people. In fact in my office right now, there are four computers. We may not watch television, but we are hardly media Luddites. I just don’t feel much like making the effort for the sake of being able to use a wireless mouse. It’s rather a small issue.

However, I will back up the data to the external hard drive and have at a search for the Apple warranty papers. Rob is actually quite busy with his mom’s computer issues (she drove out of her way on a recent trip just to bring both her computers her for Rob to repair) and this is keeping him from the stone work on the house, which has to be finished before snow flies. He discovered this last week that he could conceivable get his transfer after the first of the year and we don’t have time to mess around with the reno and the purging. It’s past time to be serious about getting ready for a big move.

I am a little disappointed with the mac. I used PC’s at work and dealt with issues constantly and expected better from Mr. Jobs and Co. Still, three years is a good run with a computer. I will run it into the ground though before doing anything as drastic as replacing it.

Meme’ng for a Friend: Save Yvonne’s Sight


A friend tagged me for a meme. A friend who is thoughtful, insightful and kind. Though I have kinda given up meme’ng, I could not refuse her.

my-storyYvonne Fong is a gifted young writer who is in danger of losing her sight to neurofibromatosis 2.  It is a genetic disorder that causes the rampant growth of tumors, which in Yvonne’s case have already robbed her of her hearing. You can read more about her story here and here, and watch her tell her story.

Having lost a husband to a genetic illness, I know full well that many genetic diseases are too rare or affect too few people to attract the attention of researchers or are well-known to doctors, who often end up misdiagnosing or being unqualified to treat patients who have them. You can help Yvonne by visiting her website where there is information about her quest to raise funds for her surgery and by passing along this meme in hopes that someone with the ability to help her might read it.

 

If you choose to help, please follow these meme rules:

1. Create a blog entry titled “Meme: Save Yvonne’s Sight”
2. List three things you love to see. Add in the picture of Yvonne’s book cover. The URL is http://www.yvonnefoong.com/images/banner/my-story.jpg
3. End with the line, “Yvonne Foong is in danger of losing her eyesight thanks to neurofibromatosis (NF). Please find out how you can help her by visiting her blog at http://www.yvonnefoong.com.”
4. Tag 5 blog friends. Be sure to copy the rules, please :)*

 

*I don’t tag people anymore. Meme, or not, as the spirit directs you.