First Week of Classes

We hit the ground running last week, with transfer advising on Tuesday and Panther Prowl for both incoming freshmen and transfers on Friday, so you would think the first week back would be easy as pie.

Well, much of it was easy--since the students make the classes, and they were enthusiastic and ready to work. The fundamentals of English class had great stories to share about their literacy experiences. The film and literature students shared great examples to support each element of the shot. And the Advanced Institute teacher/students have begun implementing their mini-units.

The hard part was my own energy level. Monday's eclipse brought much excitement to campus, and I enjoyed sharing the experience with students at the campus pond. But on Tuesday I remembered how much difficulty I have with late afternoon classes. My morning and mid-day classes went fine. But the 3:30-5:10 film and literature class drained me.

And despite my low energy level, I decided to test my strength at the Panther Challenge, a circuit workout created by the Russians of Soviet Union days. After doing hundreds of squats in different iterations, burpies, box hops, chin ups and push ups, I did feel strong--until the next day when I struggled to get out of bed. Needless to say, I skipped that workout after class on Thursday and instead worked myself out on the circuit machines. Today I'm beginning to walk normally.

So next week I need to attack this energy problem. I'll figure out how to keep up the energy level for class and post-class exercise, while still staying off afternoon caffeine, so I can sleep at night. Here's hoping next week I can be as enthusiastic as my students about writing, reading, and film analysis.

Mom Visit

Mom came to visit this week and weekend, giving me a good excuse for a real vacation. We celebrated Mom's birthday at the Indianapolis Museum of Art with sister Colleen, shopped the farm market (and backyard garden) and prepared and ate lovely vegetables, extended our foodie experience to a locally-grown food restaurant, explored Lake Charleston, enjoyed bluegrass music at Lincoln Log Cabin, and walked the trails at the Douglas-Hart Nature Preserve. Here are a few photos to document our fun!

Pose, Wobble, Flow

I wobble every time I start a new semester, whether or not I’m teaching new classes. My wobbling occurs because I can’t stand to teach the same books, movies, or even assignments every semester and want to find better ways to connect with my students. 

Video Essay Example: Finding a Place for Monstrous Nature

For example, last year I taught English 3008, Digital Writing and Multimodal Texts for the first time, a required class for a couple of English concentrations and a way to fulfill electives in other concentrations and majors. For this class, I had English majors, of course, but I also had journalism and Communication Studies students seeking digital writing assistance and credit. The course is relatively new, so the only syllabi I had were the course proposal and a literature-heavy syllabus from a previous instructor. 

I wanted to do something different that also aligned better with the proposal, so I thought about ways to incorporate multiple new genres, while also integrating different multi-modal (and less tradition) documentary texts. I took a thematic approach, but the digital writing took center stage. If I teach this course again, I will reverse the podcast and video essay assignments and spend more time preparing them for each.

My Mother Tells Stories SD 480p 2

Iris Poem

Irises

My mother grew a circle of irises

dividing a koi pond from the rose garden,

bearded blond heads bobbing like fish hooks,

their reflections prismed into Greek goddess robes,

(messengers, I know, using flowing rainbows

as bridges between earth and the heavens,

I thought they’d turn to gold by seven,

melanin changing one iris from tan to blue

Dina’s heterochromia iridium charming bartenders, disc jockeys

and the entire Columbus Clipper baseball team

her bi-colored eyes blending way too smoothly

into exotic berry wine coolers in the

back of a maroon escort, looking rosy

from the rear-view mirror before a smell

like Jim’s skunked Australian shepherd washed in

tomato juice, baking soda, and hydrogen peroxide

opened my doors)—the bronzed lower petals

grow fuzzy from rhizomes, purging the liver;

behind the cornea their tinted apertures open

like symbols of passion planted on graves.