No Pressure

Honestly, this post is really going to be an angry rant, but I'm going to disguise it as witty and humorous. In class yesterday, we basically complained about the current state of being a teacher. When you get a post graduate class of educators, this tends to happen. Yes, we had an academic base for the discussion, but it was really dressed up complaints.

We were discussing how back in the day, teacher retention was a concern because while a majority of teachers were women, they didn't stay in the profession long because they were having babies. Then my male professor went on to say to a room full of females, "I mean, realistically, you have undue pressure on you because the average age of women having their first child has been going up, especially when the level of education of the woman goes up. But, you only have so many fertile years before giving birth becomes a hazard to both you and the child..." He went on, but the vast majority of the younger women in the class were just looking at him horrified.

I think that I fool myself into thinking I am still college age because I am still taking classes. But the general feel of the class was that 28 was pushing it if you hadn't had kids yet. Well... if I am going to be here til I am 24, teaching in London till I am 27 or so and then coming to the States to settle down, I have one year to get hitched and knocked up. No pressure.

As if people (I am convinced there are just as many men as women who are hankering to settle down and just as many women as men trying to avoid it) my age didn't have their biological clocks ticking away in their ears all the time, I have to have my professor telling me to get a move on. So unless I find a Kiwi who not only wants to date me, but move to London with me, and then move to the States permanently thereafter, I am outta luck. Better call me a spinster and buy me some cats, people.

Confusing Action with Motion

I don't know which is more... distressing: reading Kerouac while in bed or while working out. Like the work of Dave Eggers, there is a distinct emphasis on movement. If I had my book with me, I would nerd out here and put some quotes, but for now, just believe me. So if I'm just lounging in bed, I feel like such a waste. I should be out in the world, experiencing things. At the very least, I should be moving. Not so, however. I have been taking On the Road with me to work out in the morning. This is more frustrating! A theme I have been toying with in Kerouac's work is that his emphasis is on traveling, but his experiences are when he isn't moving. One nerdtastic example is that the title is a recurring phrase... spoken right when he's going to leave one story and venture on into another in another place. When he's literally "on the road", we mostly don't hear about it. That gives the book a darker spin than it is intended, but reading his later work, the theme starts really becoming obvious.

So picture me pondering this, while working for all I'm worth on a crosstrainer, but not actually moving. Trippy, I know. It works much better to read back issues of Cosmo and New Woman because it's all about body image. Why not throw yourself in all the way, mind and body? It's much more distracting than Keroauc. Moral of the story? Choose reading material for the gym very carefully.

SIDENOTE: This is a reason I should be a writer for a show like Futurama, Simpsons, or Family Guy (or I watch far too much of the aforementioned shows). I was getting ready for work and putting my boots on. With my work out this morning, my left calf was getting a bit big again and I said, "Stupid calf." Then I pictured me looking up to see a baby cow in my flat and just trying to stammer out an apology. Haha. I crack myself up.

Miracles: A Way of Life?

I'm about to get religious on your heretic butts. :) Now, I don't like to talk about religion when no one has asked about it and even sometimes when they have. I dig God, we get along really well, but religion can be such a touchy topic. But here goes, it's on my mind and I wanna talk about it. (And whose blog is it anyway? "All for the readers", my butt.)

Today in church, the pastor was talking about the story of Jesus walking on water. There are three interpretations according to him: a) he really did walk on water, making it a miracle; b) there was really a sandbar or something, making it just plain old lies; or c) it's a figurative story about Jesus overcoming the struggles of and within the church. This pastor voted c. It got me thinking though... his whole logic on why it didn't really happen is because it would separate us from Jesus, make it harder for us to be like him. But then, I thought (and this can be about life in general) maybe we are supposed to be performing miracles. In the religious sense, the disciples did it, not just Jesus, so we should in theory be able to as well. In some cases, I do think people perform and experience miracles today. In the non-religious sense, it brings me back to my fascination with quantum mechanics in everyday life. Do we create and/or limit our abilities based on our expectations? Of course we know that we are to some degree, but what are the actual extremes of our capabilities?

If I have to choose between the options that pastor gave, I choose a. It means that God not only thinks I can do miracles, but that he wants me to pursue them. In life, I hope that I can expect things that ought to be impossible. On a deeper still note, what if we do create our existence? What if the world could be anything, and we as a group picked this? ...And continue to pick it. I just don't even know what to do with that. Here ends the sermon for today. ;)

Attack of the Killer Calves

I have newfound determination for this soccer thing. I will become great. For those of you who know me at all, I can be a wee bit stubborn (who, me?!) and I have taken all that energy to soccer. I don't know why... I'm bored, whatever. The point is that I have been working out super hard. You know on the cross trainer the trick is to be able to last a long time on it? Yeah, well I have it to a level where I am pushing those footpedals for all I'm worth and not going too fast. This, my friends, is full on training.

This, compounded with my desire to run full on into people while playing, has made my legs a bit... fragile. My bruise is now some funky reds and purples framed by an interesting combination of green and yellow. Fun times. This, so far, is all part and parcel of playing the game. I am in perfectly fine condition although I do walk a little funny in the mornings (I get stiff). But I had the shock of a lifetime today when I put on my awesome black boots. I slip on the left boot and it's kind of tight. Like tighter than when I wore them earlier in the week. I think, Great... I work out more and I'm getting fatter. Then I put on the other boot, but it fits fine. Hm. My left calf is distinctly larger than my right. And this has happened since Monday. There are several explanations: My right (dominant, kicking) foot is getting leaner because I use it more. Or, my left leg is swelling because of my bruise and/or just getting belted in the knee last week. Perhaps I have been pushing harder with my left leg than my right on the cross trainer, bulking up my left leg. The other option (and most likely one) is that my muscle knot (yes, I just made up that phrase) in my left leg is making it swell ever so slightly and I am freaking out over nothing.

Still, now that I know, I feel like it's super obvious and people will stare at the funny legged freak, thinking she must have just gotten her right leg out of a cast... look how tiny!! Geesh, and people who are starving, suffering from diseases, and in wars think they have it bad.

Expert Schmexpert

I have learned from this fine university that I was raised in an archaic academia which taught me that there are such things as reality, truth, and experts. Not so, my friends. This is a world built on overlapping interpretations in which one can easily get swallowed up trying to understand (and evidently in vain) other interpretations.

The one aspect where this bites me in the buttocks is when you have to write a paper. I don't like to think of myself as an expert on anything. Except perhaps on how to make the perfect afternoon (soup, rolls, butter, tea, good book, followed by more tea, knitting and great movie). Still, I am starting to understand why people think they can speak authoritatively on things. After reading heaps and heaps of articles on collaboration and its uses in professional development of teachers, I gotta say I think I know what I'm talking about. I am finding it less and less necessary to rely on quotes because Good Lord! It would take me ages to write down what they all think individually. I have to summarize, analyze (hmm.. could it be? write a paper!!) which takes up a lot of room and comes out of my fingertips pretty friggin' quickly. It's like someone asked me, "So, Annika... how do you feel about using collaboration as professional development?" (I know, no one in their right mind would ask me to elaborate on anything. I supply enough information unprovoked.) I would leap into it: "Well, funny you should ask! Let me tell you a thing or two!"

So this is what it's like to research and write about something you're actually interested in. If only I could suddenly develop a keen interest in qualitative research and its philosophical movements. Blast.

And another PS - Happy Birthday, Lisa! (Again, technically, it is the day after here, but in the US, Lisa is celebrating right now and we should too.) Does anyone else think of the music from the Simpsons where Bart gets the crazy guy who thinks he's Michael Jackson to sing Lisa a birthday song? I bet you do now. :)

Like Six Whole Months!

-I mean, it's like six whole months!
Half of a year!
-How many weeks is that??
More than a semester!
-25% done with our entire time here!

This is just part of the conversation Kelley and I had yesterday about how long we've been here. Yes, today marks my six month anniversary of being in Kiwi land. Six months!! Thinking back... it doesn't seem that long. But being in the States seems like it was ages ago. Such is life. What have I been doing this whole time? I don't even know. All I know is: I like it. Good choice, me!

It's funny that suddenly a year doesn't seem so long anymore. I don't know which is better. When I was three, I thought in terms of hours. Wow, it's already three pm? I'm late for my nap! Wait, I still think that... Then, when I was in high school, I thought in terms of days. Now, I think in terms of weeks. And I am shocked when a week has slipped by, unbeknownst to me. Crap, what's the date?! When I get older, will I think of life in terms of months? Good Lord, it's August?! All I know is life is starting to move so fast, I have to hang on for dear life. Good, bad, who knows? It's just life.

In another note of the passage of time: Happy Birthday, Beth! (Yes, today is the second for me which complicatedly makes it Lisa's birthday and not Beth's birthday, but right this second it's Beth's birthday in the US... my head hurts...)