Meaningful Work and the 23-Year Journey

For more than two decades (23 years and one week, to be precise), my professional identity was college writing teacher. Even during a period with a part-time administrative appointment, my core professional identity was teacher.

When I accepted my current administrative position, I found myself grieving over the loss of that identity. I was no longer what I had been for nearly half my life. One day I was in the car with my son. He made a minor grammatical error as he spoke, and then he said, "Ha! You can't correct me any more because you aren't an English teacher now!" After I sat in stunned silence, I burst into tears. I loved my job, and I loved being an English teacher, and stepping away from that was so very hard.

As much as I came to love my new job and the people with whom I work, I missed my old job. I missed people I'd befriended over my ten years at my previous campus. I missed the familiarity of my life--two classes per day surrounded by plenty of unscheduled time to use for grading, planning, and community building (aka, talking with colleagues and students). I knew the rhythms of the day, the week, and the semester. I loved knowing my job and knowing what to expect. When people asked me if I missed my job, the answer was "yes"--despite the fact that I loved my new job.

Two months ago, one of my colleagues asked me not if I missed my old job but if I missed teaching.

Imagine my shock when I realized that the answer was "no."

What I had found most meaningful in my previous job was neither the subject nor the classroom; it was the interactions with individual students at moments of decision-making and transformation. When I came home from work and was asked about my day, I did not talk about helping students understand what a thesis is or a student's excitement at finding the perfect source for a research paper; instead, I responded with stories about students trying to decide on a major, struggling with parental pressures, and working through relationship issues. Those were the things I loved most about teaching, and those are the things I get to do every single day where I am now.

It is quite disconcerting to realize that I don't miss what I had loved for more than twenty years. I feel so blessed to have discovered what it is I find meaningful and important about my professional activities. Had this job not happened, I would have managed to be happy for another twenty years doing what I'd been doing. And I would have missed the chance to make a difference in a way that matters to me more than I could have known.

We Are the Champions

Dear Wisconsin,

Here we are, just about one year after it all changed. One year ago today, most of us were still enjoying the afterglow of the Superbowl and wearing our newly-purchased Superbowl sweatshirts. We were unified in joy at watching our beloved football players achieve their goal.

On February 11, I drove from Waukesha to Wausau to a workshop on supporting college students who face challenges in reading and writing. It was an incredibly cold day, so cold, in fact, that the doors on the campus vehicle I'd planned to drive were frozen shut. So there I was, at five in the morning, rearranging my personal vehicle situation so I could go to my workshop. I knew that I wouldn't return until sometime early in the evening.

I remember that the drive was beautiful. Throughout the state, I saw prairie grasses and bushes covered with ice crystals. The rising sun made everything sparkle so beautifully. I remember feeling very content.

During a break in my workshop, I checked my phone for the news. I saw that Scott Walker had put the National Guard on alert, saying that public employees would be so upset by his Budget Repair Bill that they might cause problems.

And so it began.

Since then, my activity level has ebbed and flowed. Sometimes I protested; more often I didn't. Sometimes I immersed myself in social media and tried to shape the discourse; other times I stepped back while I tried to figure out what I was thinking and feeling.

I have watched many maintain a level of passion and commitment that awes me. It was easy to be part of the movement when there were tens of thousands at the capitol, raising our shared voices in a cry that gives me chills even now: "This is what democracy looks like!" It was easy to march with the bagpipes and be inspired by the celebrities.

And then we went home, to do the real work of democracy, from collecting signatures to communicating information to simply continuing to show up at work despite feelings of oppression.That wasn't so easy, but it was equally important.

But here we are, nearly one year after the protests began, and I  have seen the landscape transformed. People have joined together. A million recall signatures. Friendships I have watched form across differences of age, race, and lifestyle center around a shared commitment to making a change.

I have been transformed as well. I was bringing home less each paycheck than I had ten years earlier for doing the same job, and my family just couldn't afford the hit it would take. I ended up leaving the public sector after than twenty years to take a position in a private institution. My professional life is completely different now. I carry with me the feelings of oppression and anger directed toward public employees by some of my neighbors as well as former students. (Side note: When I wanted to have a fair salary, I was told that it was taxpayer money, not really mine. Yet when Scott Walker hires a criminal defense team using his own money, it's his money. Pick one, folks.)

I will never again take voting for granted. I will never again sign my name to let someone be on the ballot unless I truly support that person. (Yup, I signed Rep. Kramer's papers after shaking his hand and thinking what a nice guy he was to stand at my front door and talk to me. And then he never responded to my emails at all.) I will never again think my voice doesn't matter. I will carry the memory of watching the news on my computer when the Wisconsin 14 voted with their feet and left the state; I jumped up and shouted in excitement! I will always remember that one of the best days of my life was the day I took my daughter to Madison and passed the torch of justice to the next generation. We marched in the snow and cold, we sat in the capitol and felt the vibrations of democracy through the marble we sat on, we worked on our protest signs together, and we saw that we were connected to thousands and thousands of others who were there. 

I mostly continue to carry the sense of community I have watched and participated in. This sustained shared effort is inspiring. 

And you know what? This is way better than winning the Superbowl. This wasn't a bunch of well-paid guys on a field with coaches who had us cheering them on. This was US! We are still here. And we are the champions. No matter what happens with the elections, we have earned our self-respect, our passion, our commitment, and our pride. I just need to be sure to get a sweatshirt.