Four weeks ago, Tristan started preschool.
I stopped sleeping (thanks to what I know now as having a baby in posterior or "sunny side up" position), and...
Well, miraculously, everything sort of stayed together.
Don't get me wrong--the first few days of school were a challenge. He wanted to go, thankfully, but didn't want to listen.
Today, after Tristan told me "walk on the Green line, mama, down the hall," the teacher's aid laughed and told me that he does that to them now, when they forget.
He loves the routine. He loves the "friends" (what he calls all the other kids. It makes my heart swell!) He loves the art class, the speech, the OT, the playground...It's such a great fit and his vocabulary is just exploding.
An amazing four weeks. He's even doing pretty well with baby brother who arrived a week ago. He's such a big help--and a proud big brother :D
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
The blessedness of sleep
Today is, in many ways, an important milestone. A week ago, I successfully orally defended my dissertation. I'm still in the midst of a number of revisions and am praying just to graduate in December at this point, but by and large, this doctoral process has come to a close. It really took about a week for that sink in well though. It still doesn't feel like a celebration as there are "miles to go before I sleep."
...but sleep has been a very fleeting thing at my house for three years anyway.
Tristan has never been a great sleeper and, as my OB says, "you want them to eat, sleep and poop well. If any of those things aren't going well, you'll be miserable." All three were tough for us, and we tackled the eating and pooping issues first. Tristan went through phases where he was super constipated, but for the most part the diapers were often messy, awful smelling and not well formed #2. Had I known then what I know now, I would have seen the signs of lactose intolerance and gluten intolerance a lot soon. Since the diet change, progress has still been a bit slow (he sneaks regular pasta or cookies sometimes) but it's like we've watched the toxins leave his system and he's in less pain when he eats or dirties a diaper...but we knew sleep would be more of a challenge. Even on his first night home from the hospital, he tried to eat for 5 hours straight, and then would only sleep in 15 minute increments. It did get somewhat better and he did sleep completely through the night on occasion as he got close to 12-18 months but was always a very early riser, and any little change to his schedule meant a bad night (or five) of sleep as we readjusted.
Sleep changes have come through a combination of less pain when he eats, occupational therapy techniques and supplements (I think). As he's still limited in what he can eat, but growing like a weed, it's been good/important for us to work with a nutritionalist. He's up to 4 different supplements now: 2 that help with Calcium (tests showed he was low in calcium though he drank a TON of milk--which might have to do with the intolerance, or just the fact that he moves so much and burns through the supply in his system), one called "brain calm" that helps balance the levels of a neuro chemical called Gamma and--the newest one which is a life saver for us (we just started last Friday) called "Rescue Remedy" which helps with levels of adrenaline in the brain and body. We'd been through a period of several months where it took 2 or more hours to get him to sleep at night, and he was getting up at 5 (if we were lucky) or having a "party" between 1-3 am and wanted us to be next to him as he talked and talked and couldn't stop moving around. The OT we saw through special school district told us that instead of playing soft music and having soft lighting at bedtime as our primary OT had suggested (and we'd been practicing), we should not do any music or light and as we noticed him "ramp up" his activity to remove stimulation. The first night we tried it? He slept 7:30 pm-7ish am. Since then, he's had some trouble falling asleep and gotten up between 6 and 7, but it's a lot better than it was. Naps were a necessity (because he still gets super cranky and klutzy by about midday), but were also a fight. Rescue remedy right as we notice him getting hyper and klutzy has really helped with this as well. Sometimes the naps are 45 minutes and sometimes 3 hours, but the important thing is that he's waking up more communicative and happy instead of crabby like before.
The new thing for us? We'd always put locks on his door before at night because otherwise he'd wander. We stopped recently when he'd shown signs of being mama and papa-oriented. In other words, he comes to our room. More importantly, he no longer talks for 2 hours in the middle of the night! He brings his favorite pillow, his blanket and his "gog" (the stuffed wolf he sleeps with) and settles in with us. It takes a few minutes, but he falls asleep and sleeps until the alarm goes off for Rob to get up--or later. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm so grateful to have him come join us in bed. We're sleeping better (because he's actually sleeping!) and he's sleeping better (I think because he feels more safe and secure) and I'm pretty sure that we'll be able to continue this after his brother arrives--although I'm not sure how much a baby will disturb his sleep with crying and feeding so that makes me a bit nervous.
I always used to get so mad at the parents who'd said cry it out was abusive and we should just let him sleep with us. It never used to be possible. He didn't understand sleep. He wanted to talk and play whenever he was around us. This? I think he gets it, finally. This sleeping with a sleepy, semi scared (monsters, mama!) preschooler feels...normal. It's nice to feel like we're normal every once in awhile, though I know we still have a lot of challenges to face. I love watching my little guy do things now like play independently and creatively ("the dog is driving the train!") and eat different foods and most of all, sleep and understand just how much better it makes him feel :D
...but sleep has been a very fleeting thing at my house for three years anyway.
Tristan has never been a great sleeper and, as my OB says, "you want them to eat, sleep and poop well. If any of those things aren't going well, you'll be miserable." All three were tough for us, and we tackled the eating and pooping issues first. Tristan went through phases where he was super constipated, but for the most part the diapers were often messy, awful smelling and not well formed #2. Had I known then what I know now, I would have seen the signs of lactose intolerance and gluten intolerance a lot soon. Since the diet change, progress has still been a bit slow (he sneaks regular pasta or cookies sometimes) but it's like we've watched the toxins leave his system and he's in less pain when he eats or dirties a diaper...but we knew sleep would be more of a challenge. Even on his first night home from the hospital, he tried to eat for 5 hours straight, and then would only sleep in 15 minute increments. It did get somewhat better and he did sleep completely through the night on occasion as he got close to 12-18 months but was always a very early riser, and any little change to his schedule meant a bad night (or five) of sleep as we readjusted.
Sleep changes have come through a combination of less pain when he eats, occupational therapy techniques and supplements (I think). As he's still limited in what he can eat, but growing like a weed, it's been good/important for us to work with a nutritionalist. He's up to 4 different supplements now: 2 that help with Calcium (tests showed he was low in calcium though he drank a TON of milk--which might have to do with the intolerance, or just the fact that he moves so much and burns through the supply in his system), one called "brain calm" that helps balance the levels of a neuro chemical called Gamma and--the newest one which is a life saver for us (we just started last Friday) called "Rescue Remedy" which helps with levels of adrenaline in the brain and body. We'd been through a period of several months where it took 2 or more hours to get him to sleep at night, and he was getting up at 5 (if we were lucky) or having a "party" between 1-3 am and wanted us to be next to him as he talked and talked and couldn't stop moving around. The OT we saw through special school district told us that instead of playing soft music and having soft lighting at bedtime as our primary OT had suggested (and we'd been practicing), we should not do any music or light and as we noticed him "ramp up" his activity to remove stimulation. The first night we tried it? He slept 7:30 pm-7ish am. Since then, he's had some trouble falling asleep and gotten up between 6 and 7, but it's a lot better than it was. Naps were a necessity (because he still gets super cranky and klutzy by about midday), but were also a fight. Rescue remedy right as we notice him getting hyper and klutzy has really helped with this as well. Sometimes the naps are 45 minutes and sometimes 3 hours, but the important thing is that he's waking up more communicative and happy instead of crabby like before.
The new thing for us? We'd always put locks on his door before at night because otherwise he'd wander. We stopped recently when he'd shown signs of being mama and papa-oriented. In other words, he comes to our room. More importantly, he no longer talks for 2 hours in the middle of the night! He brings his favorite pillow, his blanket and his "gog" (the stuffed wolf he sleeps with) and settles in with us. It takes a few minutes, but he falls asleep and sleeps until the alarm goes off for Rob to get up--or later. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm so grateful to have him come join us in bed. We're sleeping better (because he's actually sleeping!) and he's sleeping better (I think because he feels more safe and secure) and I'm pretty sure that we'll be able to continue this after his brother arrives--although I'm not sure how much a baby will disturb his sleep with crying and feeding so that makes me a bit nervous.
I always used to get so mad at the parents who'd said cry it out was abusive and we should just let him sleep with us. It never used to be possible. He didn't understand sleep. He wanted to talk and play whenever he was around us. This? I think he gets it, finally. This sleeping with a sleepy, semi scared (monsters, mama!) preschooler feels...normal. It's nice to feel like we're normal every once in awhile, though I know we still have a lot of challenges to face. I love watching my little guy do things now like play independently and creatively ("the dog is driving the train!") and eat different foods and most of all, sleep and understand just how much better it makes him feel :D
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Several updates
Well, I guess it's been awhile. I've had people tell me lately that they are wondering how T is doing, how I'm doing in the dissertation process...and so this is just a catch-all.
On July 31, I turned in my first full draft of my dissertation. It felt good, though I was really tired and just...done. About 2 weeks later (almost 2 weeks ago), I sat down with my advisor who had a lot of good ideas, and since I had set it down for a bit (to finish grading final papers for the three classes I taught this summer) I felt rejuvenated and excited to address issues and fix several things I knew I could make better. After a doodle poll with my committee, we found a date that actually worked for everyone. If you're familiar with academic schedules, especially when dealing with people from 3 different universities, you understand just what a miracle that is. Because of paperwork requirements and the number of people who have to approve it, our October 4, 2-4pm, defense date translated to a due date of a refined, mostly polished draft getting to my committee before September 12 and, if you give them enough time to read and approve by Sept. 12, you're talking Sept. 1.
Yes, that's this Saturday. For the last 2 weeks, I've been working on 1) re-doing analysis and re-writing a little over half a chapter on discourse 2) deepening the analysis of interviews (in another chapter) with clearer introductions 3) filling out the conclusion a bit more and 4) adding a handful of figures/tables that easily summarize participant and thematic data.
And, with a bit more APA work, it will be ready (I think. I hope.) 264 pages as it stands, and I think it's pretty decent. I'll feel better after more of my committee sees it and gives feedback. I am happy, though, that at least 2 of my 4 lifespan interview participants have gotten back to me on their chapters, given feedback and seem happy with the stories and even the analysis. One of my committee members (beside my advisor) has also given some really good feedback on the discussion chapter. Another really helped me get the discourse chapter in better shape (the chapter I've worked on the longest and still, I feel, is the weakest because of the complexity it requires). I really appreciate walking into this stage feeling like I already have a good idea of how the committee might ask me to make changes if more are necessary. So...that's that. A couple of forms, some revisions and hopefully October 4, after 4 pm, I'll officially be declared "Dr. Hager."
The adventures with T have been harder, honestly. We started seeing a nutritionalist in mid-July and he's been able to tell us that he believes the reflux didn't disappear when the spit-up stopped. That means that the last 2 years his esophagus has continued to burn. No wonder he's avoiding meat and veggies--he still can't process them. At all. He's now on calcium supplements and I know what you're thinking: he's REALLY tall for his age, and drinks a ton of milk. He's simply not processing it into his bloodstream. We are certain now that he's allergic to milk/milk products and it really hurts his stomach (though he craves it because it's soothing going down, but BURNS afterward and inflames his intestines, poor kid), and has been doing really well with almond milk and coconut milk. We've also gone gluten free with him, which also seems to help a lot. It's hard to find milk-free, gluten free bread though. Thank goodness for trader joe's and UDI bread. It's pretty course, but works well for his peanut butter sandwiches. GF pretzels and shortbread cookies also make him really happy :D We tried "chocolate chip" GF cookies, but discovered hidden milk in a lot of processed foods.
Things are going well with this and T's vocabulary and attention span is getting much better, as long as we don't have slip ups. He begged for a donut on sunday at church and we paid for it, tenfold, as he went screaming and yelling up and down the tables. Yesterday, I babysat another little boy and T snuck some nutragrain bar off of his highchair tray. Today, he's jumped on me, smacked me in the head several times, refused to listen and diaper changes have turned into wrestling matches. It's now like having two very different children--one who's really badly behaved and who elicits all kinds of rude comments from well-meaning friends, relatives and strangers. The other? calmer, cuddly, helpful with household chores (and even helped me a lot yesterday with the little boy I watched, patting his head when he cried, and sharing toys with him) and loves to tell stories. The second little boy, I love to death. The first I love as well but makes life more challenging and really tests my patience. It's also really frustrating to have a kid who's sensitive to: food dyes, soy, milk & milk products and probably gluten and have others offer him "treats" (like the occasional lollipop) that I then have to tell them, no, he can't have them and look like the mean mom. Trust me, I'm saving me and us from crazy outbursts and him from a whole lot of tummy/gut pain.
So things are looking good, we're even seeing improvements in OT. Oh! We also went through with those tests--his hearing is fine (which we guessed) and he qualified for special school district services because he simply refused to take the DIAL 3/evaluation and would not co-operate without me in the room. We weren't that surprised. It's not that he's incapable, but he doesn't do well in unknown spaces (yep. sensory processing disorder with sensitivity to large spaces, multiple inputs and temperature were already known challenges), so having to go with a stranger, away from mom, in a strange place almost guaranteed he wouldn't co-operate from the get-go. We have to wait to hear back from them and it may take another 3 weeks, but we think he'll be going to the AWESOME early childhood center in our district and getting (for "free" through the district) additional help for speech and behavior. I'm hopeful and I think he'll have fun. He's freaked out the last 2 times we've been (for testing) when I said he couldn't play on their playground (which was gated in and locked)--and if he goes there, he'll be able to play there!
It's been a busy (but good) couple of months and both T and I are making great progress. The dissertation is nearly finished, set to defend, and Tristan is starting to feel a bit better with food and learning new words and responsibilities every day. His new thing? He's interested in learning how to peddle his bike! We may have a bike rider on our hands before we know it. July and August (and of course, God) have been very good to us.
On July 31, I turned in my first full draft of my dissertation. It felt good, though I was really tired and just...done. About 2 weeks later (almost 2 weeks ago), I sat down with my advisor who had a lot of good ideas, and since I had set it down for a bit (to finish grading final papers for the three classes I taught this summer) I felt rejuvenated and excited to address issues and fix several things I knew I could make better. After a doodle poll with my committee, we found a date that actually worked for everyone. If you're familiar with academic schedules, especially when dealing with people from 3 different universities, you understand just what a miracle that is. Because of paperwork requirements and the number of people who have to approve it, our October 4, 2-4pm, defense date translated to a due date of a refined, mostly polished draft getting to my committee before September 12 and, if you give them enough time to read and approve by Sept. 12, you're talking Sept. 1.
Yes, that's this Saturday. For the last 2 weeks, I've been working on 1) re-doing analysis and re-writing a little over half a chapter on discourse 2) deepening the analysis of interviews (in another chapter) with clearer introductions 3) filling out the conclusion a bit more and 4) adding a handful of figures/tables that easily summarize participant and thematic data.
And, with a bit more APA work, it will be ready (I think. I hope.) 264 pages as it stands, and I think it's pretty decent. I'll feel better after more of my committee sees it and gives feedback. I am happy, though, that at least 2 of my 4 lifespan interview participants have gotten back to me on their chapters, given feedback and seem happy with the stories and even the analysis. One of my committee members (beside my advisor) has also given some really good feedback on the discussion chapter. Another really helped me get the discourse chapter in better shape (the chapter I've worked on the longest and still, I feel, is the weakest because of the complexity it requires). I really appreciate walking into this stage feeling like I already have a good idea of how the committee might ask me to make changes if more are necessary. So...that's that. A couple of forms, some revisions and hopefully October 4, after 4 pm, I'll officially be declared "Dr. Hager."
The adventures with T have been harder, honestly. We started seeing a nutritionalist in mid-July and he's been able to tell us that he believes the reflux didn't disappear when the spit-up stopped. That means that the last 2 years his esophagus has continued to burn. No wonder he's avoiding meat and veggies--he still can't process them. At all. He's now on calcium supplements and I know what you're thinking: he's REALLY tall for his age, and drinks a ton of milk. He's simply not processing it into his bloodstream. We are certain now that he's allergic to milk/milk products and it really hurts his stomach (though he craves it because it's soothing going down, but BURNS afterward and inflames his intestines, poor kid), and has been doing really well with almond milk and coconut milk. We've also gone gluten free with him, which also seems to help a lot. It's hard to find milk-free, gluten free bread though. Thank goodness for trader joe's and UDI bread. It's pretty course, but works well for his peanut butter sandwiches. GF pretzels and shortbread cookies also make him really happy :D We tried "chocolate chip" GF cookies, but discovered hidden milk in a lot of processed foods.
Things are going well with this and T's vocabulary and attention span is getting much better, as long as we don't have slip ups. He begged for a donut on sunday at church and we paid for it, tenfold, as he went screaming and yelling up and down the tables. Yesterday, I babysat another little boy and T snuck some nutragrain bar off of his highchair tray. Today, he's jumped on me, smacked me in the head several times, refused to listen and diaper changes have turned into wrestling matches. It's now like having two very different children--one who's really badly behaved and who elicits all kinds of rude comments from well-meaning friends, relatives and strangers. The other? calmer, cuddly, helpful with household chores (and even helped me a lot yesterday with the little boy I watched, patting his head when he cried, and sharing toys with him) and loves to tell stories. The second little boy, I love to death. The first I love as well but makes life more challenging and really tests my patience. It's also really frustrating to have a kid who's sensitive to: food dyes, soy, milk & milk products and probably gluten and have others offer him "treats" (like the occasional lollipop) that I then have to tell them, no, he can't have them and look like the mean mom. Trust me, I'm saving me and us from crazy outbursts and him from a whole lot of tummy/gut pain.
So things are looking good, we're even seeing improvements in OT. Oh! We also went through with those tests--his hearing is fine (which we guessed) and he qualified for special school district services because he simply refused to take the DIAL 3/evaluation and would not co-operate without me in the room. We weren't that surprised. It's not that he's incapable, but he doesn't do well in unknown spaces (yep. sensory processing disorder with sensitivity to large spaces, multiple inputs and temperature were already known challenges), so having to go with a stranger, away from mom, in a strange place almost guaranteed he wouldn't co-operate from the get-go. We have to wait to hear back from them and it may take another 3 weeks, but we think he'll be going to the AWESOME early childhood center in our district and getting (for "free" through the district) additional help for speech and behavior. I'm hopeful and I think he'll have fun. He's freaked out the last 2 times we've been (for testing) when I said he couldn't play on their playground (which was gated in and locked)--and if he goes there, he'll be able to play there!
It's been a busy (but good) couple of months and both T and I are making great progress. The dissertation is nearly finished, set to defend, and Tristan is starting to feel a bit better with food and learning new words and responsibilities every day. His new thing? He's interested in learning how to peddle his bike! We may have a bike rider on our hands before we know it. July and August (and of course, God) have been very good to us.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
When dissertation and family live in opposition
I explained to my dad today that I'd practically given up on an "excellent" dissertation and was just aiming for "passable." He laughed and said that was probably where I should be at this point. He remembered the summer after finishing a chapter he'd researched in Washington D.C., coming home exhausted and writing a similar email to HIS advisor.
This is not to say that his exhaustion wasn't earned (after all, I was set to graduate college shortly thereafter, and was in the throws of wedding planning while my sister was set to start college that fall, and he'd been asked to take on additional roles at the college. There was plenty going on at our house at the time!) but mine is a bit different.
As I've said before, it took about 2 years of essay writing, interviews, and then dealing with a sour economy/finding jobs to pay for my tuition to start in the fall of 2008 on my PhD. Three months after I started, we found out I was pregnant. Timing seemed fine. Pregnancy was uneventful and I did well in classes, in teaching, and seemingly balancing it all. When Tristan was born with 2 types of jaundice, things started to get tricky but my researcher assistant job allowed for a flexible schedule. This became even more important as we dealt with a year of serious reflux for Tristan and little sleep. Yet I did well in classes, and even went back to teaching part-time. I thought I was doing what I needed to do. I was still really passionate about writing on immigrant experiences and the experiences of Muslims post 9/11.
It's in the last two months that this has started to fall apart. Tristan's diagnosis of SPD and needing to attend therapy every 2-3 weeks only presented a minor schedule change. I have, however, been trying to teach 3 classes (2 online, one in person) and finish the dissertation at the same time. On Monday, at therapy, I was told that they had additional concerns and we needed to go in for more testing, evaluation and possibly more therapies with Tristan. It was just hard to hear and the truth is, made me realize something difficult and important at the same time.
I need to be with my family even more than I have been. Even though I've been physically present this whole time (thank goodness for online teaching that allowed me to grade papers and write lectures when he was napping or playing), I needed to mentally and emotionally be here more. I'm still passionate about this dissertation--make no mistake--but in the few hours that I spent processing what this meant for Tristan and for me, I realized that my priorities were shifting.
As hard as it is to leave the classroom (yet again!) my son needs me here--and I need to be here, too, doing less. It's been an amazing and challenging four years of graduate work, but I was often juggling more than anyone should. Family and studies were often competing for my attention and I made it work as long as I could--but my son will only be little once. And I only have so much time and energy.
I need a break from teaching. I'm burnt out. I'm discouraged. Experiences this year in teaching TESL online have primarily contributed to this, but I think in some ways this is God's way of leading me in a new direction.
I'd said to several friends earlier this week as I was processing and working through this new information with Tristan that I believed the statement "God never gives us more than we can handle" was utter nonsense. I still think that--but I think my mother responded at the heart of the matter in a later discussion. She told me, "I think God gives us a little bit more than we can bear so that we're forced to rely on him." That's where I'm at--trusting in him to help me bring my studies and teaching to a successful end point this fall, and to take me in a new direction beginning in December sometime. Or January.
So that's it. I love teaching and I love this study, but I do love my family more. And I feel like God is telling me that life will move in a different direction for awhile once this dissertation has been submitted and accepted. I only pray that I can come back to this eventually and work more in interfaith dialogue, once Tristan (and baby #2, who will arrive in late November) are a bit older and well settled.
This is not to say that his exhaustion wasn't earned (after all, I was set to graduate college shortly thereafter, and was in the throws of wedding planning while my sister was set to start college that fall, and he'd been asked to take on additional roles at the college. There was plenty going on at our house at the time!) but mine is a bit different.
As I've said before, it took about 2 years of essay writing, interviews, and then dealing with a sour economy/finding jobs to pay for my tuition to start in the fall of 2008 on my PhD. Three months after I started, we found out I was pregnant. Timing seemed fine. Pregnancy was uneventful and I did well in classes, in teaching, and seemingly balancing it all. When Tristan was born with 2 types of jaundice, things started to get tricky but my researcher assistant job allowed for a flexible schedule. This became even more important as we dealt with a year of serious reflux for Tristan and little sleep. Yet I did well in classes, and even went back to teaching part-time. I thought I was doing what I needed to do. I was still really passionate about writing on immigrant experiences and the experiences of Muslims post 9/11.
It's in the last two months that this has started to fall apart. Tristan's diagnosis of SPD and needing to attend therapy every 2-3 weeks only presented a minor schedule change. I have, however, been trying to teach 3 classes (2 online, one in person) and finish the dissertation at the same time. On Monday, at therapy, I was told that they had additional concerns and we needed to go in for more testing, evaluation and possibly more therapies with Tristan. It was just hard to hear and the truth is, made me realize something difficult and important at the same time.
I need to be with my family even more than I have been. Even though I've been physically present this whole time (thank goodness for online teaching that allowed me to grade papers and write lectures when he was napping or playing), I needed to mentally and emotionally be here more. I'm still passionate about this dissertation--make no mistake--but in the few hours that I spent processing what this meant for Tristan and for me, I realized that my priorities were shifting.
As hard as it is to leave the classroom (yet again!) my son needs me here--and I need to be here, too, doing less. It's been an amazing and challenging four years of graduate work, but I was often juggling more than anyone should. Family and studies were often competing for my attention and I made it work as long as I could--but my son will only be little once. And I only have so much time and energy.
I need a break from teaching. I'm burnt out. I'm discouraged. Experiences this year in teaching TESL online have primarily contributed to this, but I think in some ways this is God's way of leading me in a new direction.
I'd said to several friends earlier this week as I was processing and working through this new information with Tristan that I believed the statement "God never gives us more than we can handle" was utter nonsense. I still think that--but I think my mother responded at the heart of the matter in a later discussion. She told me, "I think God gives us a little bit more than we can bear so that we're forced to rely on him." That's where I'm at--trusting in him to help me bring my studies and teaching to a successful end point this fall, and to take me in a new direction beginning in December sometime. Or January.
So that's it. I love teaching and I love this study, but I do love my family more. And I feel like God is telling me that life will move in a different direction for awhile once this dissertation has been submitted and accepted. I only pray that I can come back to this eventually and work more in interfaith dialogue, once Tristan (and baby #2, who will arrive in late November) are a bit older and well settled.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Riding the Food Dye wave
I used to be the kind of mom that saw benefit in healthy eating--and now our sanity depends on it, while Tristan's SPD fights against it. How so? Well, he's very texture and temperature sensitive. If it's warm, it's "too hot!" and anything leafy, soft, or mushy are "belch!" in his book. He won't touch many kid favorite foods--hot dogs, chicken nuggets, most noodles (though spaghetti sometimes gets his approval)...and then those created in the last 40 years or so, he can't really have. Let me explain.
We discovered back in October the connection between Yellow dye (both 5 & 6) and his hyperactive behaviors. This issue has been all over the news in the last two years. For a few examples:
http://www.npr.org/2011/03/30/134962888/fda-probes-link-between-food-dyes-kids-behavior
http://miami.cbslocal.com/2012/03/28/can-food-dyes-cause-or-affect-adhd/
http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/03/30/fda.food.dye.health/index.html
I hadn't heard of it, though, until a church friend of ours who also works at the preschool Tristan attended this fall handed me a book by Feingold that she had read when her children had similar issues. We started taking all foods with dyes out of his diet and after a few days, he really was much calmer. The only problem? It's practically in everything geared to kids: store bought macaroni n' cheese, Kool-aid, jello, most candy and popsicles, many breakfast cereals (even ones you don't think of as multi-colored and dyed. Yes, Cheerios is one on this list), juices, fruit snacks which had been Tristan's favorite snack, and the list goes on.
(As a sort of side note: This is why I've been taking issue with the "organic" label lately--Annie's fruit snacks and others labeled organic have food dyes. Read the label closely. It even says "artificial colors and flavors." How is something SO doctored considered 'organic'?)
It should be said, when some believe that those of us BEGGING for food dye regulation are not extremist in the least--many other countries DO regulate the use of food dyes and levels of dyes. The US? Not at all. I don't think you necessarily need to ban them, but as we've seen such a huge increase in ADHD and hyperactivity in children (some sources in the articles above mentioned 400% since food dyes have been added to foods), shouldn't we at least consider better regulation of what goes into the foods we eat and the safety of these additives?
In some ways, we're lucky. Tristan ISN'T sensitive to Red 40, the most pervasive dye and the one many kids are sensitive to. He IS very sensitive to yellow though (both the numbered ones and annatto--which we didn't know was a yellow dye until we did some searching after cheese crackers set him off). How did we figure this out, and what does a food dye reaction look like around here?
Well, now that we keep him away from colors (thank you, capri sun and invisible Kool-aid for providing an occasional treat without the side effects!) this is what can happen. Before I start with what food dye "highs" (as I've taken to calling them) look like, you should know: he still naps and naps well most days for about 2-3 hours, and he also sleeps at night 7-6 or so. He expends tons of energy so this seems normal. He also expends tons of energy on food dye highs, but sleep patterns get crazy as you'll see.
Rob and I went to see "Brave" the other night. I had been craving chocolate, so we got a bag of Reese's pieces and I didn't finish them. They were 'hidden' in my purse. On Thursday morning, Tristan snuck into my purse and found them. After only a few seconds of quiet, we found him that morning eating them excitedly. No, none of the brown ones--yellow and orange. Oh joy.
Thursday they worked on our roof, so I drove to Greenville with Tristan. Of our 70 minute drive, he screamed "OUT! OUT!" for the last 20 minutes and couldn't stop wiggling. We couldn't get him to eat much of anything, and he tried to drink his weight in milk and water. He was irritable, didn't want to play with me or anyone else, and changed activities every 5 minutes. Even one of his favorite videos at my parents house that's about 9 minutes long couldn't hold his attention the whole time. Naptime was about an hour and involved us driving him around to sleep. It took us 2 hours to get him to sleep that night. He got up on Friday morning about 5:30.
By 9 am, Tristan (and I) had played in the sprinkler, had a water pouring party on the kitchen floor, blown bubbles, ran around the backyard, had 3-4 cups of milk (again, almost no food though I did get him to eat some trader joe's fruit leather), played trains and danced to sesame street. I was exhausted already (ugh pregnancy!) and he just kept going. He was cranky and indecisive. he would ask for something, and by the time I got it to him, he'd cry and tell me that he didn't want it and act like it was the worst thing I'd ever made him. Naptime was a fight again, but I did get him to sleep without driving around. It took over 30 minutes to get him to calm down enough to sleep and then he was up 45 minutes later, only slightly less cranky than before. He wouldn't sit and eat with us for lunch or dinner. he only wanted to run around and play. He'd barely make eye contact when I spoke to him. He'd ask for hugs, but run away before I'd held him for 5 seconds. Another hour at bedtime to try to get him down, and then we let him cry it out after that because both Rob and I were exhausted and he was still wanting to run around though at that point it was in circles while whining.
He was up by 5-something again this morning. We tried to pull him into bed with us and rest, but he'd have none of it. More milk, more running, more "no!" as I tried to keep him inside in this extreme heat, but he becomes belligerent during this period as well.
Food dye usually takes about 72 hours to wear off around here, or slightly less. He is standing/sitting still for slightly longer periods of time this morning and showing some interest in food. He's also asking for hugs and making some eye contact. It's just so hard sometimes when your child can disappear behind this badly behaved facade for days, and you know the reason it happens but it's hard to stop sometimes. He's too young to understand. It also stinks because there's so much (texture and temperature wise) he refuses to eat and battles us over. We're working with the OT on this, but...it just feels like a very long and frustrating road in the middle of a food dye high.
We discovered back in October the connection between Yellow dye (both 5 & 6) and his hyperactive behaviors. This issue has been all over the news in the last two years. For a few examples:
http://www.npr.org/2011/03/30/134962888/fda-probes-link-between-food-dyes-kids-behavior
http://miami.cbslocal.com/2012/03/28/can-food-dyes-cause-or-affect-adhd/
http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/03/30/fda.food.dye.health/index.html
I hadn't heard of it, though, until a church friend of ours who also works at the preschool Tristan attended this fall handed me a book by Feingold that she had read when her children had similar issues. We started taking all foods with dyes out of his diet and after a few days, he really was much calmer. The only problem? It's practically in everything geared to kids: store bought macaroni n' cheese, Kool-aid, jello, most candy and popsicles, many breakfast cereals (even ones you don't think of as multi-colored and dyed. Yes, Cheerios is one on this list), juices, fruit snacks which had been Tristan's favorite snack, and the list goes on.
(As a sort of side note: This is why I've been taking issue with the "organic" label lately--Annie's fruit snacks and others labeled organic have food dyes. Read the label closely. It even says "artificial colors and flavors." How is something SO doctored considered 'organic'?)
It should be said, when some believe that those of us BEGGING for food dye regulation are not extremist in the least--many other countries DO regulate the use of food dyes and levels of dyes. The US? Not at all. I don't think you necessarily need to ban them, but as we've seen such a huge increase in ADHD and hyperactivity in children (some sources in the articles above mentioned 400% since food dyes have been added to foods), shouldn't we at least consider better regulation of what goes into the foods we eat and the safety of these additives?
In some ways, we're lucky. Tristan ISN'T sensitive to Red 40, the most pervasive dye and the one many kids are sensitive to. He IS very sensitive to yellow though (both the numbered ones and annatto--which we didn't know was a yellow dye until we did some searching after cheese crackers set him off). How did we figure this out, and what does a food dye reaction look like around here?
Well, now that we keep him away from colors (thank you, capri sun and invisible Kool-aid for providing an occasional treat without the side effects!) this is what can happen. Before I start with what food dye "highs" (as I've taken to calling them) look like, you should know: he still naps and naps well most days for about 2-3 hours, and he also sleeps at night 7-6 or so. He expends tons of energy so this seems normal. He also expends tons of energy on food dye highs, but sleep patterns get crazy as you'll see.
Rob and I went to see "Brave" the other night. I had been craving chocolate, so we got a bag of Reese's pieces and I didn't finish them. They were 'hidden' in my purse. On Thursday morning, Tristan snuck into my purse and found them. After only a few seconds of quiet, we found him that morning eating them excitedly. No, none of the brown ones--yellow and orange. Oh joy.
Thursday they worked on our roof, so I drove to Greenville with Tristan. Of our 70 minute drive, he screamed "OUT! OUT!" for the last 20 minutes and couldn't stop wiggling. We couldn't get him to eat much of anything, and he tried to drink his weight in milk and water. He was irritable, didn't want to play with me or anyone else, and changed activities every 5 minutes. Even one of his favorite videos at my parents house that's about 9 minutes long couldn't hold his attention the whole time. Naptime was about an hour and involved us driving him around to sleep. It took us 2 hours to get him to sleep that night. He got up on Friday morning about 5:30.
By 9 am, Tristan (and I) had played in the sprinkler, had a water pouring party on the kitchen floor, blown bubbles, ran around the backyard, had 3-4 cups of milk (again, almost no food though I did get him to eat some trader joe's fruit leather), played trains and danced to sesame street. I was exhausted already (ugh pregnancy!) and he just kept going. He was cranky and indecisive. he would ask for something, and by the time I got it to him, he'd cry and tell me that he didn't want it and act like it was the worst thing I'd ever made him. Naptime was a fight again, but I did get him to sleep without driving around. It took over 30 minutes to get him to calm down enough to sleep and then he was up 45 minutes later, only slightly less cranky than before. He wouldn't sit and eat with us for lunch or dinner. he only wanted to run around and play. He'd barely make eye contact when I spoke to him. He'd ask for hugs, but run away before I'd held him for 5 seconds. Another hour at bedtime to try to get him down, and then we let him cry it out after that because both Rob and I were exhausted and he was still wanting to run around though at that point it was in circles while whining.
He was up by 5-something again this morning. We tried to pull him into bed with us and rest, but he'd have none of it. More milk, more running, more "no!" as I tried to keep him inside in this extreme heat, but he becomes belligerent during this period as well.
Food dye usually takes about 72 hours to wear off around here, or slightly less. He is standing/sitting still for slightly longer periods of time this morning and showing some interest in food. He's also asking for hugs and making some eye contact. It's just so hard sometimes when your child can disappear behind this badly behaved facade for days, and you know the reason it happens but it's hard to stop sometimes. He's too young to understand. It also stinks because there's so much (texture and temperature wise) he refuses to eat and battles us over. We're working with the OT on this, but...it just feels like a very long and frustrating road in the middle of a food dye high.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Burning the candle all over the place!
I finished the last full chapter I had left to complete, and left it with 3 readers I trusted. After getting back their comments, I revised it and sent it to my advisor and another committee member for more feedback.
I'm now diving into the last of my data (community interviews) for analysis purposes--but it's not easy. You see, it's VBS week, and students from both of my classes have assignments due next week that they're asking questions about. This means I'm out about 8-12:30 every day for VBS, trying to get in some cuddle time with my little guy before his nap, answering questions for classes while he naps and then dealing with a number of meetings (doctoral paperwork how-tos, church council, OB-GYN) and evening obligations... Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit burnt out at the moment. I figured it was safer to write less this week than write and have to deal with all of the revisions that (for me) result in less than intelligible or articulate writing.
But at least the last full chapter is written and I'll get to editing it when I've had a bit more sleep and I'll finish the last analysis work when have a bit more time to really work and think on it.
When VBS ends tomorrow at noon? I'm hoping Tristan and I can both celebrate with a nice, long nap :D
I'm now diving into the last of my data (community interviews) for analysis purposes--but it's not easy. You see, it's VBS week, and students from both of my classes have assignments due next week that they're asking questions about. This means I'm out about 8-12:30 every day for VBS, trying to get in some cuddle time with my little guy before his nap, answering questions for classes while he naps and then dealing with a number of meetings (doctoral paperwork how-tos, church council, OB-GYN) and evening obligations... Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit burnt out at the moment. I figured it was safer to write less this week than write and have to deal with all of the revisions that (for me) result in less than intelligible or articulate writing.
But at least the last full chapter is written and I'll get to editing it when I've had a bit more sleep and I'll finish the last analysis work when have a bit more time to really work and think on it.
When VBS ends tomorrow at noon? I'm hoping Tristan and I can both celebrate with a nice, long nap :D
Friday, June 8, 2012
Transitions
The data is collected, I'm writing the discussion chapter now with only the conclusion left after this (and a WHOLE lot of revisions, I imagine). I should be defending by October and graduating by December (please pray that all of this "time frame" holds together!) I'd always just thought that this blog would end after the dissertation was done and that perhaps this would someday serve someone else's data collection purposes on the challenges of dissertation writing.
As I've discovered lately though, the toughest part of the dissertation usually has nothing to do with the writing itself; the toughest part is figuring out how to balance life WITH writing and all the things life throws at you. Recently, life threw something BIG at my family. We'd always known that my son was very active and "quirky," but about 6 months ago, the tantrums got worse and he seemed to struggle more and more with expressing himself and feeling overwhelmed. Our pediatrician kept telling me not to worry about things, things I'd started to notice around the time he was one and a half or two, but they started adding up. The tantrums started to involve hitting, biting, kicking, head butting and one time he head butted me so hard, he made my nose bleed on both sides.
The signs were there even earlier than six months ago in some ways. We had to leave preschool at the end of October after the teacher was SURE there was something very wrong with him and she couldn't get him to do what she wanted. I thought "strong willed," but I did also have him evaluated by the DAYC measures (Developmental assessment of Young children), and he showed up slightly delayed but not 1) autistic or even 2) qualifying for services. They gave me the name of a different pediatrician though, and she specialized in diagnosing and helping with children who had behavioral issues. I eventually got fed up with our first pediatrician's reassurances and called the other pediatrician. At our very first appointment in April, Tristan hadn't slept well the night before and was showing off all of his tantrum glory. The pediatrician immediately helped us connect with an Occupational Therapy center, though she told us it would probably take about 3 months to get our first appointment for an 'official' evaluation. Until then, he would be diagnosed as a tip toe walker, which is what most insurance companies require in order to send a child to therapy. He is, in fact, a tip toe walker which is often a classic symptom of autism, though he was determined not to be autistic or to be anywhere on that spectrum.
I was more relieved than worried at that point. Relieved that we were moving towards answers to help us all cope with his energy levels and violent tantrums. I put it out of my mind until we could go, and concentrated on school, writing, and teaching. Our first OT was this past Tuesday.
I feel like our lives have changed in a few short days. Yes, it's answers and that's an answer to our prayers although we have to still narrow down the diagnosis. Yes, Tristan LOVES the OT and the play/movement it involves. Yes, I'm excited and have a number of new resources...but it's overwhelming. He's been diagnosed as having SPD or "Sensory Processing Disorder," and has both Hyposensitivity (over stimulated) and Hypersensitivity (under stimulated and needing more input) to different stimuli. Yes, it moves us towards positive changes in his life and helping him cope better with his surroundings as well as explaining a number of things he does....but now I do worry some. I worry about when he might be able to potty train, if he'll adapt okay to preschool or if we'll have pull him again, and most of all if I'll be able to ever to have a full time job that isn't him (or if his brother or sister will be able to get enough attention in the midst of this).
It's going to take years of therapy with daily use of the "brushing" technique from me, as well as a good deal of advocacy. As SPD is still not acknowledged by many physicians as a 'real' condition and schools usually take a punitive approach to dealing with it (punishing for the 'acting out' that happens when reacting to sensory stimulation), it's something that will require a lot of work on our part to make sure others understand and don't immediately stereotype him as a 'bad' or 'disruptive' child.
So what does that have to do with my dissertation? Well...it is impacting how quickly I'm able to work and how distracted I feel lately. More importantly though it has to do with the future of this blog. I've come to the conclusion that this won't just end, but will transition to dealing with SPD, our family, and ways in which (I hope) our faith and faith community intersect in our lives.
Look for this to be blended for awhile, alternating between updates on the dissertation and writing with life with SPD and how we're coping.
As I've discovered lately though, the toughest part of the dissertation usually has nothing to do with the writing itself; the toughest part is figuring out how to balance life WITH writing and all the things life throws at you. Recently, life threw something BIG at my family. We'd always known that my son was very active and "quirky," but about 6 months ago, the tantrums got worse and he seemed to struggle more and more with expressing himself and feeling overwhelmed. Our pediatrician kept telling me not to worry about things, things I'd started to notice around the time he was one and a half or two, but they started adding up. The tantrums started to involve hitting, biting, kicking, head butting and one time he head butted me so hard, he made my nose bleed on both sides.
The signs were there even earlier than six months ago in some ways. We had to leave preschool at the end of October after the teacher was SURE there was something very wrong with him and she couldn't get him to do what she wanted. I thought "strong willed," but I did also have him evaluated by the DAYC measures (Developmental assessment of Young children), and he showed up slightly delayed but not 1) autistic or even 2) qualifying for services. They gave me the name of a different pediatrician though, and she specialized in diagnosing and helping with children who had behavioral issues. I eventually got fed up with our first pediatrician's reassurances and called the other pediatrician. At our very first appointment in April, Tristan hadn't slept well the night before and was showing off all of his tantrum glory. The pediatrician immediately helped us connect with an Occupational Therapy center, though she told us it would probably take about 3 months to get our first appointment for an 'official' evaluation. Until then, he would be diagnosed as a tip toe walker, which is what most insurance companies require in order to send a child to therapy. He is, in fact, a tip toe walker which is often a classic symptom of autism, though he was determined not to be autistic or to be anywhere on that spectrum.
I was more relieved than worried at that point. Relieved that we were moving towards answers to help us all cope with his energy levels and violent tantrums. I put it out of my mind until we could go, and concentrated on school, writing, and teaching. Our first OT was this past Tuesday.
I feel like our lives have changed in a few short days. Yes, it's answers and that's an answer to our prayers although we have to still narrow down the diagnosis. Yes, Tristan LOVES the OT and the play/movement it involves. Yes, I'm excited and have a number of new resources...but it's overwhelming. He's been diagnosed as having SPD or "Sensory Processing Disorder," and has both Hyposensitivity (over stimulated) and Hypersensitivity (under stimulated and needing more input) to different stimuli. Yes, it moves us towards positive changes in his life and helping him cope better with his surroundings as well as explaining a number of things he does....but now I do worry some. I worry about when he might be able to potty train, if he'll adapt okay to preschool or if we'll have pull him again, and most of all if I'll be able to ever to have a full time job that isn't him (or if his brother or sister will be able to get enough attention in the midst of this).
It's going to take years of therapy with daily use of the "brushing" technique from me, as well as a good deal of advocacy. As SPD is still not acknowledged by many physicians as a 'real' condition and schools usually take a punitive approach to dealing with it (punishing for the 'acting out' that happens when reacting to sensory stimulation), it's something that will require a lot of work on our part to make sure others understand and don't immediately stereotype him as a 'bad' or 'disruptive' child.
So what does that have to do with my dissertation? Well...it is impacting how quickly I'm able to work and how distracted I feel lately. More importantly though it has to do with the future of this blog. I've come to the conclusion that this won't just end, but will transition to dealing with SPD, our family, and ways in which (I hope) our faith and faith community intersect in our lives.
Look for this to be blended for awhile, alternating between updates on the dissertation and writing with life with SPD and how we're coping.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The importance of a strong network
I nearly screamed with joy last night. I had a text from Rose, who had gotten my chapter and would read it as soon as she could...
But she'd recently gotten married and moved and life was a bit in chaos.
I was honestly just thrilled to hear from her and know that she was still involved with the study, even from afar. I wouldn't say all of the women have become my good friends, but I do feel strongly connected to them in some ways and invested in their lives. It was nice to hear that Rose's story had taken an even more positive turn recently and that she was off on a new adventure. Even in our interviews, she'd talked about missing the west coast and feeling somewhat stuck and stifled when she returned to the Midwest 6 or 7 years ago, so it was good to hear that she had now moved to the East coast. A different coast, but a place where she felt like she had opportunities galore. Her family, of course, stayed here, but I have no doubt that her sisters and parents will stay close in touch.
It was a bit strange getting this message when I did. I was out to dinner with Angela and Sujin, two of my fellow graduate students, celebrating that the semester was over, that they'd finished their last classes and that Sujin had recently successfully defended her dissertation proposal. We were talking about passing around IRB information, reading comp exam essays (for Angela, who will be sitting hers in July), and getting feedback on each other's writing. It's not exactly a family network, but sometimes it feels like it. This work can be lonely and sometimes the families that we live with do not understand the process or offer help. My graduate school "family" is a family formed by similar experiences, past research and writing collaborations, and intellectual interest in each other's topics. Sujin, Angela, and I have all been interested in language learning, language teaching, and identity development issues. Reading their work helps drive my own research and build connections between us.
No reading was involved last night, though. Sure, between bites of hummus, Baba Gannoush, Taboleh, falafel and stuffed grape leaves, there was talk of IRB and writing, but we mostly enjoyed the food and the company. It was the first time we'd been able to meet since right before AERA in April. It was re-energizing to talk about life with others in the midst of this crazy process. We even talked about trying to get tickets to the symphony or go dancing together! While Rose and Amira do keep in contact about their part of the study (as does Ashley), it's the strong network we have of researchers who are at dissertation phase now that keeps me going.
Much like the life stories I've heard, mine, too, speaks of the importance of strong ties to family--even if the most important family at this stage isn't technically my "family" at all. My family is encouraging, but nothing pushes me quite like hearing "I'm looking forward to reading your conclusions" or "Can you send me your discussion chapter? I want to see how you ended up doing analysis," or my absolute favorite-- "can I see your finished outline? I know you're not doing the standard 5 chapter format and I'm thinking about different ways to structure mine as well." Nothing pushes you to finish quite like that last one! I don't think I could do this without Sujin, Angela, and Lisa (my advisor), and I'm grateful for their enthusiasm, drive, and company on this journey.
But she'd recently gotten married and moved and life was a bit in chaos.
I was honestly just thrilled to hear from her and know that she was still involved with the study, even from afar. I wouldn't say all of the women have become my good friends, but I do feel strongly connected to them in some ways and invested in their lives. It was nice to hear that Rose's story had taken an even more positive turn recently and that she was off on a new adventure. Even in our interviews, she'd talked about missing the west coast and feeling somewhat stuck and stifled when she returned to the Midwest 6 or 7 years ago, so it was good to hear that she had now moved to the East coast. A different coast, but a place where she felt like she had opportunities galore. Her family, of course, stayed here, but I have no doubt that her sisters and parents will stay close in touch.
It was a bit strange getting this message when I did. I was out to dinner with Angela and Sujin, two of my fellow graduate students, celebrating that the semester was over, that they'd finished their last classes and that Sujin had recently successfully defended her dissertation proposal. We were talking about passing around IRB information, reading comp exam essays (for Angela, who will be sitting hers in July), and getting feedback on each other's writing. It's not exactly a family network, but sometimes it feels like it. This work can be lonely and sometimes the families that we live with do not understand the process or offer help. My graduate school "family" is a family formed by similar experiences, past research and writing collaborations, and intellectual interest in each other's topics. Sujin, Angela, and I have all been interested in language learning, language teaching, and identity development issues. Reading their work helps drive my own research and build connections between us.
No reading was involved last night, though. Sure, between bites of hummus, Baba Gannoush, Taboleh, falafel and stuffed grape leaves, there was talk of IRB and writing, but we mostly enjoyed the food and the company. It was the first time we'd been able to meet since right before AERA in April. It was re-energizing to talk about life with others in the midst of this crazy process. We even talked about trying to get tickets to the symphony or go dancing together! While Rose and Amira do keep in contact about their part of the study (as does Ashley), it's the strong network we have of researchers who are at dissertation phase now that keeps me going.
Much like the life stories I've heard, mine, too, speaks of the importance of strong ties to family--even if the most important family at this stage isn't technically my "family" at all. My family is encouraging, but nothing pushes me quite like hearing "I'm looking forward to reading your conclusions" or "Can you send me your discussion chapter? I want to see how you ended up doing analysis," or my absolute favorite-- "can I see your finished outline? I know you're not doing the standard 5 chapter format and I'm thinking about different ways to structure mine as well." Nothing pushes you to finish quite like that last one! I don't think I could do this without Sujin, Angela, and Lisa (my advisor), and I'm grateful for their enthusiasm, drive, and company on this journey.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
New Challenges
It's been a productive month, as I finished writing 3 (of my 4) life history chapters in the last 3 weeks.
We also announced my pregnancy this past Sunday--at 12 weeks. I hope this helps explain some of my quietness for months. It was on the forefront of my mind and I couldn't talk about it. I spent a lot of time sick, and even more just plain exhausted. I'm still trying to recover from the exhaustion, which is tricky with an almost 3 year old in the house who goes through bouts of hating to sleep. In fact, last night was the first night we had a full night of sleep in over a week. At times, I'm overwhelmed by goals I'd set out, thinking that they're completely realistic, but then I'm frustrated when I cannot, for the life of me, finish them on "schedule."
What does this have to do with a dissertation? Quite a lot actually. I'm frustrated and overwhelmed by my last 2 interview transcriptions. I've hired someone to help with the others, but said that I could do these two. I NEED to, as one is a core participant (the second interview with the last life history I have to finish) and the other is an interview that is long, but only a small portion really needs to be transcribed as quite a lot doesn't relate to the subject. We all do our best to leave our personal lives at the door of our work, but the lines inevitably blur. The lack of sleep catches up to us, as do the worries about finishing a dissertation before a second child arrives. I also worry about "pregnancy brain" as I continue to write. Will it be articulate enough? Will it do justice to my method and my participants' stories? Which is more important to me--having a good and finished dissertation or having a fantastic dissertation that I can't defend until after the baby is born? I am leaning towards "good" right now, as I'm terrified of what the first year may have in store for me.
In some ways, being a first time parent in a PhD program was a blessing. I didn't know how hard it could be. Had I known what to expect with the reflux, lack of sleep for about a year and a half (between reflux and teething) and how this would interact with my coursework and TA/RA duties, I think I would have quit. This time, I don't just expect it to be the same, but there's no guarantee the baby won't have reflux--and I'll have his or her big brother to contend with, this child who still hates sleeping and isn't a big fan of listening and who we're just praying we can potty train before we take him to preschool part time in the fall.
The reality is this--I have 3 or 3.5 chapters left to write for the full draft, and I want to get them to my committee by the end of August. I'm tired and while I love what I'm doing, I need to move forward and finish before I get even more overwhelmed. The chapters to write are: 1) the last life history (which I was able to start during "nap" ("no nap!" struggle time) time yesterday) 2) a chapter of 'analysis'/meaning making (which is at least started) and 3) conclusions/implications, as well as the community interview portion of the "ethos of reception" chapter. The problem is that this would still just make a full draft. More lit will need to be added, sections will need to be rearranged, etc. Even thinking about this makes me tired some days. My goal, though, is to simply finish this last core participant interview transcript and life history by the end of May. June is for the analysis chapter, July is for the conclusions chapter, and the community interview stuff will be done in August, since I have to wait on transcripts for that (and pay my wonderful transcriptionist who's also interested in giving feedback for analysis purposes! I love working with people who are blossoming researchers and want to be involved in projects!) I'm hoping that a draft in August, with probably a LOT of revisions, will translate to the ability to be able to defend by (or before) October, in order to be "done" before December. Thanks to a lack of financial aid, I'll have to take credits (but do no work) in the spring though I'll be unofficially finished in December. UGH.
Did I mention that I'm teaching 3 classes this summer? One that's fairly intense started yesterday (and it's online). The students are fantastic and have great questions and ideas, but I do feel like this will take more energy and time than I think I'd anticipated.
I guess my plea at this point is just for prayer--energy, sleep, and perseverance are all needed at this point.
We also announced my pregnancy this past Sunday--at 12 weeks. I hope this helps explain some of my quietness for months. It was on the forefront of my mind and I couldn't talk about it. I spent a lot of time sick, and even more just plain exhausted. I'm still trying to recover from the exhaustion, which is tricky with an almost 3 year old in the house who goes through bouts of hating to sleep. In fact, last night was the first night we had a full night of sleep in over a week. At times, I'm overwhelmed by goals I'd set out, thinking that they're completely realistic, but then I'm frustrated when I cannot, for the life of me, finish them on "schedule."
What does this have to do with a dissertation? Quite a lot actually. I'm frustrated and overwhelmed by my last 2 interview transcriptions. I've hired someone to help with the others, but said that I could do these two. I NEED to, as one is a core participant (the second interview with the last life history I have to finish) and the other is an interview that is long, but only a small portion really needs to be transcribed as quite a lot doesn't relate to the subject. We all do our best to leave our personal lives at the door of our work, but the lines inevitably blur. The lack of sleep catches up to us, as do the worries about finishing a dissertation before a second child arrives. I also worry about "pregnancy brain" as I continue to write. Will it be articulate enough? Will it do justice to my method and my participants' stories? Which is more important to me--having a good and finished dissertation or having a fantastic dissertation that I can't defend until after the baby is born? I am leaning towards "good" right now, as I'm terrified of what the first year may have in store for me.
In some ways, being a first time parent in a PhD program was a blessing. I didn't know how hard it could be. Had I known what to expect with the reflux, lack of sleep for about a year and a half (between reflux and teething) and how this would interact with my coursework and TA/RA duties, I think I would have quit. This time, I don't just expect it to be the same, but there's no guarantee the baby won't have reflux--and I'll have his or her big brother to contend with, this child who still hates sleeping and isn't a big fan of listening and who we're just praying we can potty train before we take him to preschool part time in the fall.
The reality is this--I have 3 or 3.5 chapters left to write for the full draft, and I want to get them to my committee by the end of August. I'm tired and while I love what I'm doing, I need to move forward and finish before I get even more overwhelmed. The chapters to write are: 1) the last life history (which I was able to start during "nap" ("no nap!" struggle time) time yesterday) 2) a chapter of 'analysis'/meaning making (which is at least started) and 3) conclusions/implications, as well as the community interview portion of the "ethos of reception" chapter. The problem is that this would still just make a full draft. More lit will need to be added, sections will need to be rearranged, etc. Even thinking about this makes me tired some days. My goal, though, is to simply finish this last core participant interview transcript and life history by the end of May. June is for the analysis chapter, July is for the conclusions chapter, and the community interview stuff will be done in August, since I have to wait on transcripts for that (and pay my wonderful transcriptionist who's also interested in giving feedback for analysis purposes! I love working with people who are blossoming researchers and want to be involved in projects!) I'm hoping that a draft in August, with probably a LOT of revisions, will translate to the ability to be able to defend by (or before) October, in order to be "done" before December. Thanks to a lack of financial aid, I'll have to take credits (but do no work) in the spring though I'll be unofficially finished in December. UGH.
Did I mention that I'm teaching 3 classes this summer? One that's fairly intense started yesterday (and it's online). The students are fantastic and have great questions and ideas, but I do feel like this will take more energy and time than I think I'd anticipated.
I guess my plea at this point is just for prayer--energy, sleep, and perseverance are all needed at this point.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Reflections on a productive AERA
More than anything, this experience provided me with something more valuable than I can really explain: mental invigoration and energy. It's almost as if someone said, "you're going about this all wrong. Here--here's where you start," without ever explicitly saying this.
It was about the comments I got in the workshop. It was about the questions I was asked to answer during my presentations. And, more than anything, it was about the rejection I got yesterday for my article. At first, I was sad. Really sad. But then it hit me this morning--I had been framing this portion all wrong. In fact, I'd been thinking about the dissertation itself all wrong. I kept trying to think about it as a singular project that needed to use the same methods throughout and see everything in the same light. I realized that's not what I need to do at all. It's the same topic and elements, yes, but more like 3 different projects using the same data to get to different aspects of the picture.
In the first portion, I'm exploring newspaper data and community interviews, really focusing on discourse analysis to figure out what the power structures present are and how the larger narratives reaffirm the works of folks like Tehranian (2009), Beyoumi (2008), and Maira (2009), who all state that Muslims have been framed as a monolithic whole, of one mind and thought, looking similarly, and of "the imagined unified region known as the Middle East" (Tehranian). I'm able to show the shift in focus over time through basic numerical data, as there are far more articles in 2001 on Muslims and Arabs than there were prior. Though the numbers decrease after 2001, there are still surges in some years such as 2003 (the start of the Iraq War seems to have some impact here) and 2005 (I'm not really sure why on that one!) and they haven't receded to pre-2001 numbers yet. Framing has also changed as where "Arab" used to be the primary word of choice (and often used inaccurately in the OP ED pieces I'm looking at), "Muslim" is now more in focus and the words are slightly more likely to occur together (which indicates to a degree an increased awareness that just because someone is "Arab" doesn't mean that they are Muslim!) Community interviews reveal a divide in knowledge about realities post-9/11 (but as I'm still transcribing these and not yet begun to analyze much, I don't want to say much on this at this point!)
The next section of the project looks at the narratives of my "core" participants. Using a sort of open coding and grounded theory approach, we've looked for themes similar across the narratives to talk about some important questions and concepts that have come up in the analysis process. While this, I believe, doesn't do justice to the stories themselves, it's a nice way to summarize findings and raise a few questions. To better address the stories as a whole and present a less comparative approach, each of these four narratives is presented as a case study of sorts, in narrative inquiry style/methodology.
Finally, and in order to answer the final question ("how do the individual narratives align or disalign with larger discourses in media and the community?") ...I'm not sure. This, I think, as I get further into narrative inquiry methods, this may actually be addressed in the case study narratives themselves.
The challenge I was given at the workshop, I think, has become another important question for me to answer in the findings. One of the other dissertating folks said "I'd love to hear the ways in which these stories and this process has shaped you and your identity/identities." I really hadn't thought about it before, but I think this is probably the next chapter or portion of a chapter that I start working on as it's been on my mind for the last five days straight :D As usual, I think the hardest portion will be writing the conclusions and implications.
Like I said, it's almost like it suddenly hit me that this is 3 different projects using the same data and therefore making it seem like a mess from afar, but more like a three dimensional, multi-disiciplinary image as you get down to it. A challenge to create, for sure, but it's become an important creation for me as I hope to help others from multiple understandings within education perceive the importance and complexity of the issues I'm trying to address.
I'd love to hear any other thoughts/questions out there! As it stands, the intro is done (with some more lit review to be worked on/added, of course), and the newspaper/community interview chapter is about half finished. I have 3 of the 4 narratives drafted though still in progress, and I'm honestly hoping to get to work on the findings now. No, I know I'm not "done" with the analysis, but there are things that keep coming up and need to be addressed for sure, even if I end up having to scrap it later because it no longer seems accurate at the end. With any luck, I'll have a draft at least of everything by July :D It is happening and it will happen. It's such a good feeling to come home from the conference and realize I'm actually sort of closer than I thought I was to finishing!
It was about the comments I got in the workshop. It was about the questions I was asked to answer during my presentations. And, more than anything, it was about the rejection I got yesterday for my article. At first, I was sad. Really sad. But then it hit me this morning--I had been framing this portion all wrong. In fact, I'd been thinking about the dissertation itself all wrong. I kept trying to think about it as a singular project that needed to use the same methods throughout and see everything in the same light. I realized that's not what I need to do at all. It's the same topic and elements, yes, but more like 3 different projects using the same data to get to different aspects of the picture.
In the first portion, I'm exploring newspaper data and community interviews, really focusing on discourse analysis to figure out what the power structures present are and how the larger narratives reaffirm the works of folks like Tehranian (2009), Beyoumi (2008), and Maira (2009), who all state that Muslims have been framed as a monolithic whole, of one mind and thought, looking similarly, and of "the imagined unified region known as the Middle East" (Tehranian). I'm able to show the shift in focus over time through basic numerical data, as there are far more articles in 2001 on Muslims and Arabs than there were prior. Though the numbers decrease after 2001, there are still surges in some years such as 2003 (the start of the Iraq War seems to have some impact here) and 2005 (I'm not really sure why on that one!) and they haven't receded to pre-2001 numbers yet. Framing has also changed as where "Arab" used to be the primary word of choice (and often used inaccurately in the OP ED pieces I'm looking at), "Muslim" is now more in focus and the words are slightly more likely to occur together (which indicates to a degree an increased awareness that just because someone is "Arab" doesn't mean that they are Muslim!) Community interviews reveal a divide in knowledge about realities post-9/11 (but as I'm still transcribing these and not yet begun to analyze much, I don't want to say much on this at this point!)
The next section of the project looks at the narratives of my "core" participants. Using a sort of open coding and grounded theory approach, we've looked for themes similar across the narratives to talk about some important questions and concepts that have come up in the analysis process. While this, I believe, doesn't do justice to the stories themselves, it's a nice way to summarize findings and raise a few questions. To better address the stories as a whole and present a less comparative approach, each of these four narratives is presented as a case study of sorts, in narrative inquiry style/methodology.
Finally, and in order to answer the final question ("how do the individual narratives align or disalign with larger discourses in media and the community?") ...I'm not sure. This, I think, as I get further into narrative inquiry methods, this may actually be addressed in the case study narratives themselves.
The challenge I was given at the workshop, I think, has become another important question for me to answer in the findings. One of the other dissertating folks said "I'd love to hear the ways in which these stories and this process has shaped you and your identity/identities." I really hadn't thought about it before, but I think this is probably the next chapter or portion of a chapter that I start working on as it's been on my mind for the last five days straight :D As usual, I think the hardest portion will be writing the conclusions and implications.
Like I said, it's almost like it suddenly hit me that this is 3 different projects using the same data and therefore making it seem like a mess from afar, but more like a three dimensional, multi-disiciplinary image as you get down to it. A challenge to create, for sure, but it's become an important creation for me as I hope to help others from multiple understandings within education perceive the importance and complexity of the issues I'm trying to address.
I'd love to hear any other thoughts/questions out there! As it stands, the intro is done (with some more lit review to be worked on/added, of course), and the newspaper/community interview chapter is about half finished. I have 3 of the 4 narratives drafted though still in progress, and I'm honestly hoping to get to work on the findings now. No, I know I'm not "done" with the analysis, but there are things that keep coming up and need to be addressed for sure, even if I end up having to scrap it later because it no longer seems accurate at the end. With any luck, I'll have a draft at least of everything by July :D It is happening and it will happen. It's such a good feeling to come home from the conference and realize I'm actually sort of closer than I thought I was to finishing!
Friday, April 13, 2012
Vancouver
Again, it's not dissertation related, but hit me so hard tonight as I'm here to present my research that I have to share this.
Vancouver
Vancouver
At the conference center,
Abuzz with excitement,
Talk of measurement
Evaluation
Social contexts of learning
And social justice,
I am awed
By the mountains
‘cross the water
and the breeze
that drifts by
as hydroplanes
swoop down
and gulls glide by
and all seems still
people stop
at coffee bars
at department stores
at art galleries
awed by beauty,
enjoying their freedom
in the midst
of conference talk
and business talk
and busy talk
I walk
Out the doors,
Up five blocks
And turn on Granville
Towards my hotel
It doesn’t take long
Before the scenery changes
The busy streets
And shops
And happy people
Are still there
But every few feet, every block
Someone is lying down
Under an awning
On a heated grate
By a bus shelter
The first man I pass along the way
Is sleeping, as he was when I walked by this morning.
I know it’s the same man, though I never see his face
His clothes are the same.
Black pants, black hoodie pulled up, and curled almost into a ball.
He doesn’t beg.
The next man is sitting next to a store
by the entrance and singing
The next is a group of drummers
sitting next to a store entry and working together in rhythm.
This feels more like the indie music scene
I was told about in this neighborhood
But I know it’s not quite.
I see their clear plastic starbucks cups
And the sign that says “please”
I walk by the old theaters,
The symphony,
The giant record store across the street
People are talking, laughing,
Dressed for concerts
Walking quickly
By people sitting quiet, dirty, with cups
Signs that say “any change will help”
And no one seems to see them
And I just can’t get over the contrasts,
The disparities I’m seeing.
Then I’m on the block I hate.
The one that breaks my heart,
As I see him again.
The kind boy with the dark hair
And beautiful dark eyes.
He talks quietly to each person that passes by
“Please, miss, do you have any change?”
I say yesterday that I’m from out of town and have no cash
(It’s true. I didn’t take any out and don’t have a debit card with me)
“A penny even?”
“not even that,” I smile at him sadly.
Today, I can’t even look.
I know he won’t remember me,
But I see his face,
Hear his quiet desperation
His kind words to all those who walk by
Most don’t even acknowledge that he’s there.
Then something worse happens.
Something I can’t really believe.
I hear a clanging sound ahead of me
And notice a man,
Sitting under the bus stop awning
With his clear starbucks cup
Sprawled several feet in front of him.
They at least sort of stop to say “sorry.”
She says “oh. Sorry,”
and he says, “yeah, she’s sorry.”
And they keep walking
Never stopping to help.
After the boy,
and not having any change to give him myself
I stoop and scoop
And he says “thank you miss”
Over and over
And I just say quietly,
“I can’t believe they didn’t stop to help”
“I can’t believe it either. I’m 64 years old and I can’t believe it either.”
We don’t talk after that, just attend to the work
Another girl stops to help
And we leave when we’re done.
His cup was mostly full of pennies,
with a few nickels
and one quarter that I saw
I can almost justify the young boy on the street.
Teenage runaway, perhaps?
But the 64-year-old man,
Who wasn’t yelling like some of the other street people
Or talking to himself
And just kept thanking us for helping
What’s the reason he’s there?
No one who’s old enough to be a grandfather
Deserves to be on the street.
Where are their families?
Downtown, all is beautiful
Especially by the Harbor
And where the Olympic buildings are
Gastown tells the story of a booming drug traffic,
But only in certain parks and on corners
Most tourists wouldn’t see
Yorktown and the Granville neighborhood
Where I walk to
Back to my room
Tell a different story
The story I was compelled to tell here
Of how easily
People become invisible
And how even in moments they are visible
When the coins spill
Most people choose to let them become invisible again.
I never thought I’d leave Vancouver
With a heavy heart
And a lasting impression
Of the sadness in this city
Instead of the conference
But I think this is what will follow me home.
Hopefully tomorrow, if I see the boy,
I’ll remember to stop and ask if I can get him food
I may not have cash
But I still have power to notice
And to respond
To human need.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
I'm sorry
To those that subscribe,
A post that never should have been posted publicly was apparently sent to all of you as part of my blog. I sincerely apologize for this, as it was a rough day and I was trying to "write out" my frustrations, having no idea anyone else would see them.
I guess sometimes a bad day kicks you twice, and words even on paper live to haunt you another day.
Let the dissertation work continue post haste--and say a prayer that it's finished by mid to late fall! I head to AERA and two days of workshops next week to tweak and refine, sans family. I am hopeful that it's productive and rejuvenating for all of us.
A post that never should have been posted publicly was apparently sent to all of you as part of my blog. I sincerely apologize for this, as it was a rough day and I was trying to "write out" my frustrations, having no idea anyone else would see them.
I guess sometimes a bad day kicks you twice, and words even on paper live to haunt you another day.
Let the dissertation work continue post haste--and say a prayer that it's finished by mid to late fall! I head to AERA and two days of workshops next week to tweak and refine, sans family. I am hopeful that it's productive and rejuvenating for all of us.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Pray without Ceasing
This deviates somewhat from the dissertation itself, but when you think about writing as my form of prayer, it's not too far off (dissertation as prayer, blogging as prayer). What follows is probably a disorderly mess of thoughts, but I had to "put pen to paper" as soon as I stepped out of the shower this morning. I had a revelation of the sort that only interaction with my son can bring, but I'll get to more of that later.
In 1 Thessalonians 5:17, we are encouraged to "pray without ceasing," and for the longest time I couldn't fathom it.
As a child, I always thought of prayer as communal or at the very least, "heads bowed, eyes closed." Trying to combine this and praying without ceasing resulted in me running into a few walls while walking, a few puzzled looks from others watching this, and a heart-felt exasperation that to pray without ceasing must mean one must become a monk or nun (I didn't know at the time that Monks and nuns had tasks in a monastery outside of prayers). When I was in later elementary school and began singing in choirs and writing my own songs, I heard from members of my congregation, "that's such a beautiful prayer." Oh! I thought--prayer can be in words that don't require me to lose my bearings and run into things? I spent much of my middle school years singing whenever I could (which probably explains why I was nicknamed "Opera lady" by a classmate and found myself alone a lot!)
High school and adolescence changed things. I didn't feel like praying or singing for a long time and when I did, I found solace in quiet places. My flute music was my prayer as my mom battled a scary diagnosis, and it said "thank you" the doctors shook their heads and decided that the original diagnosis was wrong. I ran into the woods at Durley camp with a couple of friends to climb and swing and sing a quiet prayer or two when cliques and rumors overwhelmed me. I stopped praying my junior year when the color drained from my world, one of my favorite mentors passed away, and I felt God calling me away from music and into something else (I still think about "Aunt" Harriet Whiteman constantly and how she may have shaped my calling in many ways). I started dreaming dreams of about a new calling, but was scared--if I prayed through my music and it was being taken away from me, how would I pray? How could I let God know how heartbroken I was and how much I needed him when he'd taken my voice from me?
It happened in inches and in miles, really. My voice returned to a degree, and my love of music and new calling combined in strange ways. IYC 2000 in Colorado was, in retrospect, one of the most important events of my life. It was there (or on the way, actually) that I met Josh and Chris. Like me, Josh had been raised on "old school" CCM, but felt called to be a computer programmer. It was a passion and gift--as was his ability to play the piano and sing Keith Green songs. Even to this day, though I remember him (and Chris) trying to explain to me RPGs and what it was like to program for them, it's the Keith Green songs that we shared that stick with me: "Oh God, though I have wandered so far, you know that I'm still a man after your own heart." He'd managed to combine a love of music (and music as prayer) with his calling, so why couldn't I? It was strange that in the year to come, I was able to go on a music ministry and ESL teaching missions trip to Japan. These kind of combinations don't happen often--and it was there that I fell in love with ESL and really felt called, both to teach and to minister through working with immigrants.
And still the Keith Green song stuck with me, appearing out of nowhere in my thoughts and acting as a prayer often my freshman year of college. As I discovered "The Celebration of Discipline" that year, focused on fasting and new forms of prayer (laying down and taking up), I started seeing how prayer was intertwined into the lives and regular actions of my professors and developing in the lives of friends I made at college. It's a strange thing when it finally clicks, that prayer is how we live.
True, Leopold Weiss' words from yesterday help--that he saw in the Muslims he met that life and prayer and vocation couldn't be separated as words of prayer and relational words to God were a part of everything they did, but this isn't often how we teach or model prayer for our children.
And yet, T (my 2 1/2 year old) seems to have picked this up. We have said prayers with him since he was about 2 months old, but it's only been lately as he's had more words that we've asked him who he would like to pray for. He now has his list ready, happily and overflowing from his mouth. Some people are listed repeatedly, and I often have wondered if he's just delaying sleep and ask if he's done. We say "Amen" and call it a night. This morning was different. This morning, in the shower, he started in with his prayer list. I have to admit, I was a bit shocked. Was he not making the connection to the names and when we pray?
But I think he knows better than I do sometimes. He already seems to understand that we can pray anytime, anywhere, out loud, in our heads, in our music or even in our computer programs (buttons!) or teaching. He's learned that prayer without ceasing is possible and does not have to be an awkward interjection into our lives, but should be the outpouring of our thoughts and feelings to God--it is a life well lived with caring and concern for others, full of thanks and praise for the gifts we've been given, and joy for the journey he has given us.
I'm learning how to pray without ceasing from my 2 year old--even if he is a hyper-active teacher.
In 1 Thessalonians 5:17, we are encouraged to "pray without ceasing," and for the longest time I couldn't fathom it.
As a child, I always thought of prayer as communal or at the very least, "heads bowed, eyes closed." Trying to combine this and praying without ceasing resulted in me running into a few walls while walking, a few puzzled looks from others watching this, and a heart-felt exasperation that to pray without ceasing must mean one must become a monk or nun (I didn't know at the time that Monks and nuns had tasks in a monastery outside of prayers). When I was in later elementary school and began singing in choirs and writing my own songs, I heard from members of my congregation, "that's such a beautiful prayer." Oh! I thought--prayer can be in words that don't require me to lose my bearings and run into things? I spent much of my middle school years singing whenever I could (which probably explains why I was nicknamed "Opera lady" by a classmate and found myself alone a lot!)
High school and adolescence changed things. I didn't feel like praying or singing for a long time and when I did, I found solace in quiet places. My flute music was my prayer as my mom battled a scary diagnosis, and it said "thank you" the doctors shook their heads and decided that the original diagnosis was wrong. I ran into the woods at Durley camp with a couple of friends to climb and swing and sing a quiet prayer or two when cliques and rumors overwhelmed me. I stopped praying my junior year when the color drained from my world, one of my favorite mentors passed away, and I felt God calling me away from music and into something else (I still think about "Aunt" Harriet Whiteman constantly and how she may have shaped my calling in many ways). I started dreaming dreams of about a new calling, but was scared--if I prayed through my music and it was being taken away from me, how would I pray? How could I let God know how heartbroken I was and how much I needed him when he'd taken my voice from me?
It happened in inches and in miles, really. My voice returned to a degree, and my love of music and new calling combined in strange ways. IYC 2000 in Colorado was, in retrospect, one of the most important events of my life. It was there (or on the way, actually) that I met Josh and Chris. Like me, Josh had been raised on "old school" CCM, but felt called to be a computer programmer. It was a passion and gift--as was his ability to play the piano and sing Keith Green songs. Even to this day, though I remember him (and Chris) trying to explain to me RPGs and what it was like to program for them, it's the Keith Green songs that we shared that stick with me: "Oh God, though I have wandered so far, you know that I'm still a man after your own heart." He'd managed to combine a love of music (and music as prayer) with his calling, so why couldn't I? It was strange that in the year to come, I was able to go on a music ministry and ESL teaching missions trip to Japan. These kind of combinations don't happen often--and it was there that I fell in love with ESL and really felt called, both to teach and to minister through working with immigrants.
And still the Keith Green song stuck with me, appearing out of nowhere in my thoughts and acting as a prayer often my freshman year of college. As I discovered "The Celebration of Discipline" that year, focused on fasting and new forms of prayer (laying down and taking up), I started seeing how prayer was intertwined into the lives and regular actions of my professors and developing in the lives of friends I made at college. It's a strange thing when it finally clicks, that prayer is how we live.
True, Leopold Weiss' words from yesterday help--that he saw in the Muslims he met that life and prayer and vocation couldn't be separated as words of prayer and relational words to God were a part of everything they did, but this isn't often how we teach or model prayer for our children.
And yet, T (my 2 1/2 year old) seems to have picked this up. We have said prayers with him since he was about 2 months old, but it's only been lately as he's had more words that we've asked him who he would like to pray for. He now has his list ready, happily and overflowing from his mouth. Some people are listed repeatedly, and I often have wondered if he's just delaying sleep and ask if he's done. We say "Amen" and call it a night. This morning was different. This morning, in the shower, he started in with his prayer list. I have to admit, I was a bit shocked. Was he not making the connection to the names and when we pray?
But I think he knows better than I do sometimes. He already seems to understand that we can pray anytime, anywhere, out loud, in our heads, in our music or even in our computer programs (buttons!) or teaching. He's learned that prayer without ceasing is possible and does not have to be an awkward interjection into our lives, but should be the outpouring of our thoughts and feelings to God--it is a life well lived with caring and concern for others, full of thanks and praise for the gifts we've been given, and joy for the journey he has given us.
I'm learning how to pray without ceasing from my 2 year old--even if he is a hyper-active teacher.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Who I am and who I was called to be...
A good friend had a wise word today--that who I am is enough and that the focus should be upon whose I am and knowing that I'm loved.
This, my friends, may be true but is no easy feat. Meetings, writing, demands on energy from family, work and even within the church can be a difficult balance and all the while it's about the tension between academia and being a person of faith. Kathleen Norris, in addressing a college community last year, explained the friction this way:
References
Asad, Muhammad () "The Road to Mecca." Adaptation from Islamland (a PDF gifted from one of my participants).
Norris, Kathleen (2011, March). "Shaping a life that matters." NETvue Conference, Indianapolis, IN.
Weiss, Leopold
This, my friends, may be true but is no easy feat. Meetings, writing, demands on energy from family, work and even within the church can be a difficult balance and all the while it's about the tension between academia and being a person of faith. Kathleen Norris, in addressing a college community last year, explained the friction this way:
I’ve heard Benedictine men and women, scholars who are members of the American Academy of Religion talk about their reluctance to discuss their life of faith in an academic setting, even with their own students. But at least they’re monastics, kind of exotic: pity the ordinary, garden-variety Christian!
The writer Patricia Hampl once said that when other professors discovered she was a practicing Catholic, their estimation of her IQ took a noticeable drop. A few years ago, I was at a reception after a talk I’d presented, and became aware that my co-sponsors, the literature and religion faculties, were in a marriage of convenience that made both groups ill-at-ease. During one conversation, a professor said, “Sometimes I think it would be good to do away with all religions.” It had been a very long day for me, or I probably wouldn’t have replied so starkly; but I said, “You know, Joseph Stalin and Pol Pot tried that, and it didn’t work out so well.” I’m convinced that having some historical grounding, and some sense of how religious traditions have functioned in human history, for both good and ill, is essential to understanding how they might shape our own vocation, a life of hope and meaning.
To be doing this project at a secular university is both the best and worst of both worlds. It is geared towards a wider audience, centered on human development, bioecological theory and a particular time in history. It also (attempts to) present religion as important and truth-bearing, though this hasn't always been understood, I think, even by those at the University. This is the most difficult part to me--to attempt justification of this study to my community of faith (as something more than just my thoughts) and to a university (to many, it's simply another phenomena).
To me, it's a defining piece of who I am and why I am writing this dissertation--to acknowledge that faith and prayer are alive in my generation, and not just among those who tow a particular political line. This is a prayer whispered that faith and intelligence do not have to be separated. As Norris states the Benedictine monks told her, "sometimes writing IS your prayer." It's what connects me to texts that are thousands of years old and draws me into a conversation between millions of people over time. It's why Norris, L'Engle, Leopold Weiss, Dr. Hamid, C.S. Lewis and other voices I run across seem to speak in harmony, despite coming out of different faiths and different times in history.
Leopold Weiss (later known as Muhammad Asad), in his journey from Judaism to Islam, states in a bold revelation: " It was at this moment that I became aware how near their God and their faith were to these people. Their prayer did not seem to be divorced from their working day; it was part of it ñ not meant to help them forget life, but to remember it better by remembering God."
I guess, in many ways, this answers my earlier question about being Alyosha or Ivan. I'm called--as are others-- to be BOTH, or at least not see the intellectual working portion of myself as separate from the praying, faithful (often frazzled mom) and loving child of God.
This ability to weave faith and thought together, I believe, is what I was meant to share. It's what all four of my "core" participants do so well, and what some of the community members have done as well. If I can do this, well, it is enough. My work IS enough and I don't have to feel like my analysis isn't quantitative enough or "churchy" enough. It is what I was called to do and I can simply hope that the prayer that flows from my fingers is as beautiful, awe-filled, hopeful and loving as it sounds in my head.
May we all be one in the bonds of love...and for heaven's sake, may I move forward with the analysis phase (being stuck inside my own head isn't much fun of late).
References
Asad, Muhammad () "The Road to Mecca." Adaptation from Islamland (a PDF gifted from one of my participants).
Norris, Kathleen (2011, March). "Shaping a life that matters." NETvue Conference, Indianapolis, IN.
Weiss, Leopold
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Brothers Karamazov
In a recent conversation with a friend, he reflected on reading The Brothers Karamazov:
I used to think that I wanted to be a lot like Alyosha (who doesn't?).
But I am definitely much more of an Ivan.
I admit now to being less familiar with the book than I should have been (I'd read Crime and Punishment in high school and liked it well enough that I should have known this Dostoevsky work as well), and had to go do some research. I decided it was high time to read this after I found a synopsis of characters.
My friend knows me too well, it seems. Alyosha, the younger, kinder, more innocent and earnest in his faith and love is who I think most of us would like to be. Like my friend, though, I think I've fallen more into the role of the intellectual, cold and academically-minded Ivan. These characters, in a way, represent both the best and worst parts of my dissertation: a study driven by faith, hunger for knowledge and wisdom, and academic study of human development and identity. It's also about trying not to parse every piece to death, making identity and love some sort of rubric or formula, but that nagging worry in the back of my mind that either I lose something academic by assuming bits and pieces about faith, or I lose faith and the wonder of it all by approaching it wholly academically.
Maybe it's in trying to maintain the spirit of Alyosha's approach while being in Ivan's intellectual sphere that I can maintain some semblance of balance and feel fulfilled in this work. Only time (and more writing) will tell.
I think it's time to start reading The Brothers Karamazov and seeing what I can learn from one of my favorite Russian novelists, while I keep transcribing recent interviews.
I used to think that I wanted to be a lot like Alyosha (who doesn't?).
But I am definitely much more of an Ivan.
I admit now to being less familiar with the book than I should have been (I'd read Crime and Punishment in high school and liked it well enough that I should have known this Dostoevsky work as well), and had to go do some research. I decided it was high time to read this after I found a synopsis of characters.
My friend knows me too well, it seems. Alyosha, the younger, kinder, more innocent and earnest in his faith and love is who I think most of us would like to be. Like my friend, though, I think I've fallen more into the role of the intellectual, cold and academically-minded Ivan. These characters, in a way, represent both the best and worst parts of my dissertation: a study driven by faith, hunger for knowledge and wisdom, and academic study of human development and identity. It's also about trying not to parse every piece to death, making identity and love some sort of rubric or formula, but that nagging worry in the back of my mind that either I lose something academic by assuming bits and pieces about faith, or I lose faith and the wonder of it all by approaching it wholly academically.
Maybe it's in trying to maintain the spirit of Alyosha's approach while being in Ivan's intellectual sphere that I can maintain some semblance of balance and feel fulfilled in this work. Only time (and more writing) will tell.
I think it's time to start reading The Brothers Karamazov and seeing what I can learn from one of my favorite Russian novelists, while I keep transcribing recent interviews.
Monday, March 5, 2012
....
It's just been one of those seasons.
The words I want to use bounce around and around in my head.
The words I read bounce around and around in my head.
Words.
So many words.
And nothing comes out.
I read the brilliant words of friends.
Of colleagues.
Of Scholars.
Even of students (on occasion).
All I can think is
Where are my words?
The jumbled mess sticks in my thoughts
and in my mouth
Like Peanut Butter
Gluing my trap closed.
And I feel trapped in that closed space.
I shake the walls
I pray
I cry
I scream--and even this is silent
I just can't seem to find the words I need.
Deep breaths.
It will come.
It has to come.
The wisdom
The words
All that I've worked so hard to build up
To connect with
It all requires some faith--and words.
Please, God
I need more articulate words
To help me past this "stuck"-ness.
The words I want to use bounce around and around in my head.
The words I read bounce around and around in my head.
Words.
So many words.
And nothing comes out.
I read the brilliant words of friends.
Of colleagues.
Of Scholars.
Even of students (on occasion).
All I can think is
Where are my words?
The jumbled mess sticks in my thoughts
and in my mouth
Like Peanut Butter
Gluing my trap closed.
And I feel trapped in that closed space.
I shake the walls
I pray
I cry
I scream--and even this is silent
I just can't seem to find the words I need.
Deep breaths.
It will come.
It has to come.
The wisdom
The words
All that I've worked so hard to build up
To connect with
It all requires some faith--and words.
Please, God
I need more articulate words
To help me past this "stuck"-ness.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Kairos: Embrace the Chaortic-ness
About a year ago, Pastor Linda Daniel-Block coined the term “Chaortic” to describe the events of her life at that moment. It wasn’t utter chaos she said. There was beauty to it and a sense of order—somewhere—but it never felt completely within her control. I can think of no better way to explain our life right now. From my husband switching jobs in mid-December to Tristan leaving preschool and becoming obsessed with climbing everything but playground equipment (why do kids always want to climb what they shouldn’t and avoid things that we tell them they can climb on?) to this whole dissertation journey, online teaching and responsibilities within my house and the church, everything has been in a state of chaorticness.
We keep moving forward with some amount of progress, but I think I feel the anxiety and frustration of chronological time and progress more than my other family members right now. For me, hours drag by as I constantly remove my son from his climbing places and try to redirect him to less destructive activities, and as I try to connect with students in my online classes. Meanwhile, my dissertation work, seems to move forward at a snail’s pace as the months fly by. My advisor kept telling me on Monday that I’m doing well, making deadlines and meeting them each month for the most part, assuring me that not every day or week or even month can be productive, “it comes in fits and starts, with highs and lows,” she says, and you have to take breaks for your sanity. In essence, though, I do not want to be in Chaos. I do not even want to be in Chaortic-ness (where there is method in the madness). I just want to feel as if I’m making the best use of time, energy, and talents as possible. I do start mulling over her words though.
That’s really when the word started flitting around in my brain—Kairos. Kairos. Kairos, in greek, means “the right or exact moment.” But I also grew up reading Madeline L’Engle’s Time series, or as it’s sometimes called “the Kairos series,” and her words on time are the ones I turn to so often to make sense of the nature of God, his time and how it contrasts with the way we so often view time.
From Walking on Water, by Madeleine L’Engle:
Kairos. Real time. God’s time.
That time which breaks through chronos with a shock of joy, that time we do not recognize while we are experiencing it, but only afterwards, because kairos has nothing to do with chronological time. In kairos we are completely unselfconscious, and yet paradoxically far more real than we can ever be when we’re constantly checking our watches for chronological time.
The saint in contemplation, lost to self in the mind of God is in kairos. The artist at work is in kairos. The child at play, totally thrown outside herself in the game, be it building a sand castle or making a daisy chain, is in kairos. In kairos we become what we are called to be as human beings, co-creators with God, touching on the wonder of creation.
This calling should not be limited to artists, or saints, but it is a fearful calling. It is both Mana and taboo. It can destroy as well as bring into being.
In Our Town, after Emily has died in childbirth, Thornton Wilder has her ask the Stage Manager if she can return home to relive just one day. Reluctantly he allows her to do so. And she is torn by the beauty of the ordinary, and by our lack of awareness of it. She cries out to her mother, “Mama, just look at me one minute as though you really saw me… it goes so fast we don’t have time to look at one another.”
And she goes back to the graveyard and the quiet company of the others lying there, and she asks the Stage Manager “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?” And he sighs and says, “No. The saints and poets, maybe. They do some.”
Reading this passage reminds me that lent calls us into kairos time, as we follow the journey to the cross. It is in this moment that I realize that this academic endeavor is more than writing about faith and sharing about two faiths that have so much in common. The writing of this itself is happening within kairos time. This is not to say that I do not feel the need to write or push it. I’m a self described “TYPE A” personality and I will always push myself harder, to work faster and more articulately. The funny thing is that this doesn’t always work, even with my own dissertation. I rely so heavily on others for feedback and interviews and even some of my transcription. My son gets sick for a week and a half and then starts climbing the walls and I don’t have time during the day to do much other than care for him and am too tired when he finally goes to bed at night to do much other than get lost in a book. I get pulled into a fiction series…and find myself living in kairos time there as well.
I have to trust that kairos time, in all of the chaortic-ness that I feel, is at work in my work, my life and my words. I just have to embrace it and tell chronos time to stop making me feel like such a loser—that it does not have that sort of power over me anymore. Really, truly doing God’s work takes time. Kairos time. Embrace the chaortic-ness of it all.
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