Complexity and Humanity

I've gotten some interesting feedback on my last post. People (some I know in real life and even more that I don't) have sent me messages about my decision not to protest when Walker visited his niece's grade school in Waukesha yesterday. Mostly, the comments have been really supportive. Others, however, have suggested that I'm giving up the fight or that I'm just having a rough patch. They tell me to stay strong and get back in fighting form.

Hmm. I work very hard to stay focused on policies, issues, and processes--and not on people or personalities. This has never been as much of a challenge as it has since February 11 of this year, when Walker introduced his Budget Repair Bill and I learned who the Fitzgerald brothers are.

I have always tried to think of the humanity of those with whom I disagree. I want to understand other points of view--not so I can engage in debate but so I can better understand issues and challenges and so we can find ways to work together to do what is best for the most people. This is how I approach my political views, my personal relationships, and professional challenges. It is an essential aspect of who I am and how I interact with my world. It is a core part of me, and to act differently is to become something other than what I am.

When I talk with people with a more conservative viewpoint, I am able to be respectful of their views. Once I understand why someone thinks in a particular way, it helps me better understand how to discuss my views with that person. I need to connect with others as humans, none of whom is perfect.

I admire those who fight strong. Those who protest frequently, those who confront our legislators as they walk into the Capitol, those who expose behind-the-scenes conversations and procedures, and those who engage in public debate are vital in effecting change. I'm just not good at those things. We all need to play to our strengths, and mine are in seeking common ground, attempting to understand, and being mindful of the humanity of all (even my enemies). These are not particularly visible qualities; that does not mean they are unimportant.

Not all who are on the same side of an issue need to be doing the same things. The Wisconsin political climate is more divisive than I ever could have imagined. I am also seeing some divisiveness in how people talk to and about people who are on the same side (including but not limited to me).

I have spent a lot of time listening. I've written to my legislators. I've protested. I've asked questions. I expressed outrage at certain actions, and I sobbed when I thought of how many women with HPV will go untreated because of the funding being taken away from women's health clinics. I have never been so distracted in my life, and this experience has been burned into my heart and mind permanently.

I am angry. I am outraged. I am horrified. I am appalled. I am resolved. I am hurt. I am many things, and I feel many things. But that does not mean that I should not be able to recognize and appreciate the humanity and the views of others.

I saw a video of Walker's visit to his niece's school. I was able to set aside my feelings about his actions as I watched a little girl introduce him, saying, "This is my uncle." Her affection for him was genuine.

It reminded me that we are all complex individuals. Walker is not just Darth Walker, master Koch puppet, doer of evil, and other terms I've heard applied to him. He is also a little girl's uncle and a human being.

The moment I forget that, I have lost a part of my soul.

Why I'm Not Protesting Tomorrow (Much to My Surprise)

Ever since February 11, I've felt envious of those who could protest Walker directly. Protesting at the capitol is amazing, but every time, I was aware that he wasn't there, that I wasn't reaching the person responsible for the constant fear and anxiety I've had for over three months now. A while back, he was in Waukesha, but I couldn't participate in the protest because I had something else scheduled. I was so disappointed.

Last night, I found out that he will be in Waukesha tomorrow, at Banting Elementary School, at a time when I am completely free. My grades are done and turned in, summer school doesn't start for three weeks, so I am in the clear. I have been disheartened and wearied by the continuing lack of compassion I am seeing from my governor and so many legislators. Do they not know what they are doing to people's lives, or do they just not care? Where is the compassion? A chance to protest without having to drive to Madison is rare.

Imagine my surprise when I realized how conflicted I felt about the idea of protesting him tomorrow.

I admire the people who show up again and again throughout the state to protest Walker. He never goes anywhere without the presence of people reminding him that we are watching him and we are unhappy. He can't even go fishing without protesters in a boat along side him. (Really, that was so awesome!) I get how important that is.

I also understand how important it is for children today to be aware of what is happening in our state. Seeing protesters outside their school is something they will remember for the rest of their lives. They will take a history class in high school or college. The subject of labor rights will come up, and they will know that they were witnesses to part of that history. We should not shield them from the fact that people are unhappy with what the governor is doing. We should celebrate the fact that protesting and gathering peacefully is one of the great rights of living in this nation.

So why am I so conflicted?

When we lived in southwestern Illinois, my husband was involved in campaigning for Republican candidates for various offices. Yes, I even voted for some of them. At one campaign event, I shook hands with Jim Edgar, who I knew would be elected governor. I felt giddy. There was something about the office of governor that was so exciting to me. No matter who inhabited that office, I knew that I would always be thrilled that I got to shake the hand of a future governor.

Maybe that's part of the thing for me. No matter who the governor is and what he is doing, he is the governor. School children should get to experience the excitement of the occasion. It is a big deal. I am grateful to see the calls for protests at schools to be silent--but even a silent protest is visible. I don't like the thought of children looking through their classroom windows to see adults holding signs--a sight most children wouldn't be familiar with. I think it could be confusing and even disturbing, even while providing an opportunity to learn about our rights and history.

And what about the governor? I love that everywhere he goes, his presence is protested. It sends an important message and, I hope, it makes it more stressful for him to do his job in the way he's been doing. I want him to feel stressed as he is doing things that damage lives in real ways. However, if there is one time when the governor should feel unharried and happy, it is when he is meeting with school children.

Here was the clincher for me: I read that his niece goes to Banting. I have four nieces and three nephews. I want them to be proud of me, and if I were to visit their schools, I would want them to feel  thrilled to have me there. Despite my feelings about Walker, his niece is a child. She deserves the chance to be excited that her Uncle Scott the governor is coming to visit her school, without the distraction of people holding signs outside the school. It is for her and the other children that I cannot bring myself to protest tomorrow.

It is just my way of showing some of the compassion that has been lacking in my elected officials lately, even while I respect that others will feel very different and will be there at Banting to greet the governor.

Juggling Rhythms

I spent yesterday at the University of Wisconsin Colloquium/Engaging Students in the First Year Conference. It was odd, as it was the first time I was there without an ESFY title. In some respects, I felt a bit out of sorts, being in a familiar place with an unfamiliar role.

In the past year, as I've returned to full-time teaching, I've been reminded how much I really do love teaching and working with students. My presentation yesterday was about teaching and working with students. It was a pilot program that went well, and it was a real treat to get to talk about that. It felt like a nice capstone to my year.

In the afternoon, I found myself talking to some colleagues at UW-Marathon County who both hold split positions--part teaching and part administrative. As I listened to them talk about the projects and reports they have ahead of them in the coming weeks, I got a big smile on my face--and they knew exactly why.

One of my biggest challenges and frustrations at a split appointment was that I had to exist on two different sets of rhythms. As a teacher, there are times of the semester and year that are particularly intense and stressful (like the end of the semester, always). Fortunately, those times are usually followed by some down times that have a more relaxed pace. I can have several days in a row of really intense and draining reading and grading, and then I have some time when I can rest, reflect, and even step aside from my work for a bit. It kind of balances out.

Administrative work, however, is completely different. There are reports to be written, budgets to be wrapped up, meetings to hold (and in the UW Colleges, these are mostly teleconferences due to the geographic distribution of our 13 campuses and the central office), and work to continuously plan and implement. Full-time administrators rest and recover using very non-academic sounding leave called vacation days. Part-time administrators/part-time instructors don't exactly have these. Because of the demands of the end of the semester as an instructor, some administrative work is set aside for the days and weeks after grades are turned in.

What this all amounts to is that people in split appointments rarely have downtime. I never got to enjoy being done with the semester in a way that was truly recuperative. Instead, I would have to kick back into high administrator mode. Juggling two entirely different sets of rhythms is hard. While I certainly miss some aspects of the work I used to do and the ways I got to work with people I liked and respected, I am happy to simply be an instructor who does a little bit of advising on the side. It is much, much easier on my ability to take deep cleansing breaths.

The Good Wife

So here we are  again. My husband lost his job, and he was told it was due to overstaffing. I think it was because he was almost at the end of his 90-day probationary period and the company didn't want the expense of hiring him directly instead of through the temp agency, and since they had two women return from maternity leave, it was a choice they could make.

Still, it came out of the blue. Why is it so hard for him to find a job that helps us keep our heads above water?  Unfortunately, he didn't work there long enough to be eligible for unemployment, which ran out shortly before he started this job.

It is so hard to know how to be a good wife. I am totally falling apart inside, but my husband needs me to be encouraging and supportive right now. And naturally , this happens at my most hectic time of the semester.

We've been through this before, and I just don't know if I can do it again. I will, because I have to. But I have to wonder if I'll ever be able to feel a sense of hope again. Every time this happens, a piece of my spirit is extinguished. What if I get to a point where there's nothing left?

Blurring boundaries

When I stepped down from administrative work to resume full-time teaching this year, I made a decision that I would no longer deal with email during evenings and weekends. I pretty much stuck to that during the fall semester, and I felt liberated. I still had school work to do at home, but I made sure that when I was doing my school work I didn't have Facebook and Twitter windows open at the same time. So even when work happened at home, I made sure I was completely "at work" while I was doing it. (Heck, I even would wear a school t-shirt to remind myself of what I was supposed to be doing!)

Maintaining boundaries was difficult to adjust to, but once I did, it was freeing. I was able to compartmentalize things in my life in ways that allowed me to feel more productive and accomplished in each area. I began to feel more balanced, and when I was thinking about any particular area of my life, I was once again feeling engaged and energized and accomplished--instead of flustered and constantly behind.

Recently, however, I've been experiencing a blurring of boundaries. Naturally, I blame Scott Walker. So much of my personal time has been directed to engaging in conversations about state political issues--and since the budget repair bill and the proposed budget affect both my work and my compensation, it's been harder to maintain these boundaries.  Like many of my colleagues, I spent most of February and March distracted and angry while at work. It was sometimes hard to look at students and not wonder, "Are you against me?" It was hard to read student papers from home while sitting at the same table where I sit to pay bills and balance the checkbook.

As one of my beloved colleagues retires, I am also experiencing the fluidity of boundaries. I am personally very sad that she is retiring. (I'm thrilled for her, but very sad for what her absence will mean for the campus and the department and simply for the value of being in the presence of her strength and wisdom.) My colleagues and I have been discussing the various ways we might celebrate her time with us as she moves on to her next phase of life. Unfortunately for me and my intentions, much of this conversation has been happening via email outside of daytime working hours.

Now, I have no issues with someone sending email at odd times. I've certainly done my share of sending emails at 4 am, in the middle of summer, deep into January snowdays, and so forth. Because much of academic life takes place at home, during the times that work within our own individual lives, I respect this. The fact that I am choosing to honor boundaries in my life does not mean that I think everyone else should be doing the same thing. But I am seeing decisions get made during these odd times. During Spring Break, when some of my colleagues were on a much-needed break from all things work-related, people were making decisions about how to acknowledge my colleague's retirement. This past weekend (Easter weekend, when I was out of town to visit family), emails were being sent about another department activity.

All I ask is that people be given an opportunity to adhere to work/life boundaries if they choose--and that decisions not be made when classes are not in session. Feel free to discuss and share ideas during off-times--but don't make decisions until everyone has had a reasonable opportunity (as in, during the teaching day)  to make their voices heard. I am feeling so frustrated right now, and I am getting very snarky. Most work-related decisions do not need to be made within 24-48 hours, and I feel resentful when it seems that am behind my colleagues' expectations simply because I am trying to strive for balance in my life.

Deep fried chaos

Amidst all the political chaos of the state and the effects that has on my life, a new chaos has been introduced to my life: my sons' joy of deep frying.

I blame my husband, who bought the deep fryer years ago and came up with the idea of pulling it out of storage last week to make french fries.

Then, late one afternoon, I heard my sons having an animated and enthusiastic conversation in the kitchen.  They informed me that I should stay out of the kitchen while they experimented with the deep fryer. I was told I just couldn't handle what they hadgoing on in there--and they were right. On the deep frying list: cheese, fries, doritos, and bacon. They then dug through the fridge to see what else could be deep fried.

They made disparaging comments about me for not having the deep fryer out every night as a central component of all food preparation.

Over the past few days, I have witnessed more french fries than I could stand, multiple attempts at deep frying bacon, deep fried hot dogs, corn dogs, and, just for fun, ice cream (that one didn't work so well).
The deep fryer has taken up residence on my kitchen counter. Oil splatters are everywhere. My favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe card that had been left on the counter now has a permanent oil coating.

I walk into the kitchen and roll my eyes. At the same time, though, my heart is warmed. At 16 and almost 19 (this week!), the days when my sons will be together to concoct a kitchen mess are numbered. I am reminded that when I hear them, it means they are in my home.

I'll have lots of years to clean up the kitchen after they're gone. For now, I'll enjoy their chaos and mess. And the french fries.

What If Scott Was One of Us (#wiunion)

It needs some work, but sing this to "If God Was One of Us."
------------------------------------------

If Scott felt some shame, what would it be
And would you throw it in his face
If you were faced with him at a press conferences
What would you ask if you had just one question

And yeah yeah Scott’s not great yeah yeah Scott’s not good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if Scott was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the train
Trying to stay in his home

If Scott had some grace what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to agree
In things like corporate tax breaks and the trough and job creation

And yeah yeah Scott’s not great yeah yeah Scott’s not good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if Scott was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the train
Trying to stay in his home
He’s trying to take over the state
Back up to Madison
Only Koch is calling on the phone
Except for the Fitzwalkers in the dome

And yeah yeah Scott’s not great yeah yeah Scott’s not good
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

What if Scott was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the train
Trying to stay in his home
Like a brick wall on his own
He’s trying to take over the state
Back up to Madison
Only Koch is calling on the phone
Except for the Fitzwalkers in the dome