A meltdown and another confession

After my last post, I had a major meltdown.  I was working in Archer's office that day as I needed to be on campus for various meetings, and I literally sobbed.  Archer was working as well, and he sat next to me and rubbed my back.  He was great.  He didn't try to get me to calm down, which is rare for him.  He just let me cry, which I needed to do.  Once I stopped crying I told him that I am not happy at CU.  This is a hard thing for me to say to him or even to write here, within the relative safety of my blog.  It's hard for lots of reasons, but mainly because I know how happy he is professionally and because I know how tough the academic job market is right now.  Even though my position isn't tenure-track, I do have a one-year contract with each department I work for, so I have more job security than many people adjuncting.  Admitting I'm unhappy makes me feel a little ungrateful.  But I digress.

Archer asked if I could explain why I'm unhappy.  Here are a few reasons:

• I'm exhausted by inventing and teaching new courses every term, especially courses I'm not really qualified to teach.  For example, this term let's say I'm teaching a course in Jerk Studies.  See, I'm not professional in Jerk Studies.  Yes, I can teach Intro to Jerk Studies without a problem, and I can (and do) teach Professional Jerk Studies with a bit of prep.  I'm teaching this course though b/c someone in the writing department asked Dr. Nice Guy, the former chair of Archer's department, if I could teach this, given my interdisciplinary interest in books and the design of jerky spaces.  I said, "Um, well, no, not really.  But I could if I had to."  For me, "had to" meant "Sure, I can teach it if I must to ensure some sort of job security, but teaching it won't happen without a lot of stress on my part."  Dr. Nice Guy talked to Dr. Red (so named because of her lovely red hair), who asked me to write a course description.  I did, and voila.  Now I'm teaching this course.  I don't want to teach it.  At all.  It has been made very clear to me, however, that this is the course that could get me noticed by the powers that be.  Great!  I'll get noticed for doing something I am not qualified to do.  How wonderful for me!
• I am tired of feeling like I don't belong.  I'm tired of being on the fringes of 3 departments.  
• I am tired of feeling like I'm flying by the seat of my pants in the classroom.  I recognize that I am apparently good at teaching not totally prepared.  I am good at engaging students and getting them to participate, but I'm tired of working all day long to prep and then feeling like I still have no idea what I'm talking about.

After I explained all of these things to Archer, I told him that after this year, if we don't have any other job options and we are still at CU, I want to make some changes.  I will continue to teach in all 3 departments, so long as they will offer me positions.  I will not, however, design or accept any more courses that I am not interested in or that I am not qualified to teach.  It is just too stressful.  If that means that I only teach two courses a term, that's fine.  I would much rather take Bear out of full-time childcare and keep him home with me 2 or 3 days a week than go through the stress of teaching something I don't want and not qualified to teach.  If I only teach 2 courses a term and only put Bear in school 2 or 3 days a week, that does mean I will lose all of the time I currently have to get my own research and writing done.  But it will also mean that I'm a happier person, which, quite frankly, is more important to me. 

Here's the thing: I love teaching.  I love it.  I love everything about it.  When I'm in the classroom talking with students about something that excites me, I'm happy with my job.  When I'm writing, as much as I struggle to do it, I'm happy.  When I'm at a conference either giving or hearing a paper, I'm happy.  I love what I do.  I don't love what I do when I feel like I'm teaching something I shouldn't be.  Right now, I feel like a fraud.  I should not be teaching this class.  I will only be able to pull it off because the students don't know any better and, clearly, neither does the administration. 

I realize on some level that I'm being a whiny little brat.  I do know I'm lucky to have a job, but how lucky am I if I'm not completely happy with the job I have?

Sensitive Boy

Last week, when I picked Wild Man up from school, one of his friends Emmie was crying. She had just woken up from her nap about 10 minutes before I arrived (I so wish Wild Man napped as long as Emmie does; 3 plus hours on average! The teachers often have to wake her up so she can join the other kids for snack time). She was crying because the teacher had asked her to put her puppy in her cubby so she wouldn't get him covered in strawberries, which was the snack time food of the day. When Wild Man noticed Emmie crying, he immediately walked away from where he and I stood by the door and gave her a hug. He then returned to me and told me "Emmie sad, Mommy." I thought "how sweet," told his teachers good-bye, and took him to the car. About 5 minutes into our drive home, Wild Man began crying. When I asked him what was wrong he said "Emmie sad. Emmie need hug." My sensitive boy was crying because he had left his friend crying and he wanted to make her feel better. I again thought "how sweet," and I immediately shared the story with C when we got home.

I've thought about this event a bit over the past few days, and the more I think about it the more it bothers me. Here's why: I see so much of myself in my child. He is thoughtful (well, as thoughtful as a toddler can be), sensitive, kind, independent, determined, curious, and loving. But he is also willful, stubborn, demanding, abrupt, and sensitive. Yes, I listed sensitive twice, which I admit seems sort of odd, especially given that I've listed it along side the not so great traits my son and I share. I do want my son to be sensitive to other people's feelings and sensitive to the world around him. But I do not want him to be overly sensitive. I was an overly sensitive child--I would cry at the drop of a hat. I would cry when I was in trouble, I would cry when I was mad, I would cry when I was sad, I would cry when my friends were in trouble or sad. You get the picture: anytime I felt any sort of emotion (other than happiness) I would cry. And I don't just mean a few tears. I mean loud, blubbering crying that left my face red and blotchy for hours. My siblings, in fact, called me "cry-baby." This wasn't just a phase either. I reacted this way well into high school and college. As I've gotten older, I've become able to control my tendency to cry (especially once I realized that many people regard crying as a form of emotional manipulation, even though I don't cry on purpose; it truly is an emotional response in my case), but I am still a self-described crier. But I don't want my son to be so sensitive that he cries at the drop of a hat; this is one trait that I don't want him to share.

C and I talked about this recently, and he asked me point blank if this is a gender thing for me. I seriously considered that: would I be concerned about crying and sensitivity if Wild Man were a girl? Am I concerned that he will be labeled the overly sensitive boy, a label that could be damaging for various reasons? The answer is no. This isn't about gender for me; if he were a girl, I'd likely be more concerned about sensitivity and crying. I don't want him (or any subsequent children, assuming we have more) to be as fragile as I was as a child. I want him to be sensitive and aware of his emotions without allowing them to overwhelm him, as I really think I did. I don't want people to be fearful of telling him things because they're concerned he'll start crying. I want to figure out a way to preserve his sensitivity while encouraging him to have a thicker skin than I did.