What a stupid weekend.
Oh, I got stuff done that I needed to get done, and finally started on the research necessary for this mentoring project that I need to do...
After work on Friday morning, I went to campus, and hacked together a collection of academic papers i could use for my future paper. I'd been putting off any work on that (despite having had several school-free snowdays in the preceding week), and our assignment on Friday was to come and share our project status. I was in deep water, and needed to at least show a little effort to paddle my way out.
My worry was a little unfounded-- despite the fact that in a few weeks we'll be expected to have finished this phase of our project, and the fact that most of the mentoring projects will involve somewhat detailed nationwide surveys, not a single person had even started yet, and the few hours' worth of work I'd just done impressed the hell out of everyone, including the overseer from the school of education.
I was brought down quite a bit, though, when the learning center director sat down with me and shared a tidbit-- the data had come back from the prior semester, and my section hadn't done well. Something I'd mildly anticipated, as that group of students had horrible attendance and participation rates, which was a little beyond my control. Yet, despite knowing things were going to not turn out too well, it was disappointing to hear it from the director, along with the "we need to sit down and discuss where this program is going, and see what we need to change" warning. I prewarned my professor (who'd also found last semester's students to be piss-poor, to the point where she's requested that she and I never be linked to another "learning community" again). It feels rather like being "coached" in a job.
It's frustrating that so much of their achievement has a bearing on mine. I'm limited in how much influence I can have, especially with some of the new rules that have been instituted (the worst: the program is no longer voluntary, which means instead of mentoring students who truly want help, I mentor students who not only don't care, but who are sometimes angry at being forced to attend extraneous stuff); I'm limited by the class dynamics (when Dr. Blackwell heard that the last semester had been with a group of students who'd graduated together from a small high school, she simply said "oooh, yeah, hyperbonding" which let me know that it's a common problem). I might bitch about the bad student this semester, but at least this semester's group is nonhomogeneous; a better dynamic, leading to better sessions, and hopefully better performance.
So, I finally got home Friday evening and collapsed (weeks with the mentoring class = being up for around 30 hours straight from Thursday afternoon to Friday evening), waking up in time to get cleaned up and go to a pre-Mardi Gras party at Heather B's (not that Heather, but a longtime friend).
Now, Heather B. and I have known each other for a fairly long time, and we've grown apart dramatically over the years. We started out as teenage gothy dopplegangers-- long-haired, overly dramatic all-black-wearing kids with black nailpolish and lipstick, writing bad poetry, taking bad photographs, and smoking bad clove cigarettes-- and people assumed we were twins, confusing us when approaching us from behind, etc. That's seriously changed over the years; I fully embraced the nerdy, overly-rational engineer/scientist/academic side of my personality, while she fully embraced her bohemian, arty side.
Which means, yes, I am the only non-artist at her parties. And it often sucks. Here is every meeting that occurs at every party or gathering:
"Hi, I'm <name>. Mmm, how do you know Heather?"
"We worked together years ago, we've been friends ever since... probably fifteen years."
"Oh, I met you at your gallery opening at the Stutz!"
"No, ha ha, I'm not an artist."
"Oh... do you write?"
"I write academic papers."
"Ah! Herron Art School!"
"No, Purdue School of Science. I'm studying to be a mathematician."
"... I really hate math."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"I have to go. Nice meeting you."
It was a little more frustrating last night, however, since I actually had a couple of interesting conversations with people whose demeanor changed completely once the "math" bit came out. Not that it felt like a class issue-- I wasn't being shunned for being "lower class"-- but stereotypes that creative and rational types can't mix kick in. After an interesting half-hour conversation with one lady, she found out I wasn't an artist but a budding mathematician, then said apologetically "I'm sorry, I just can't understand why someone would do that" as she left for a more artistic side of the room.
It's funny because I like dancing, art films, good literature, and interesting music. I can talk at least semi-cogently about current events, pop culture, religion, politics, and history. Despite the dryness of my online writing, I even can have a dry sense of humor. But in the end people expect me to be Spock, and they freak out, thinking that all I'll want to talk about is logic and math.
Oh, I got stuff done that I needed to get done, and finally started on the research necessary for this mentoring project that I need to do...
After work on Friday morning, I went to campus, and hacked together a collection of academic papers i could use for my future paper. I'd been putting off any work on that (despite having had several school-free snowdays in the preceding week), and our assignment on Friday was to come and share our project status. I was in deep water, and needed to at least show a little effort to paddle my way out.
My worry was a little unfounded-- despite the fact that in a few weeks we'll be expected to have finished this phase of our project, and the fact that most of the mentoring projects will involve somewhat detailed nationwide surveys, not a single person had even started yet, and the few hours' worth of work I'd just done impressed the hell out of everyone, including the overseer from the school of education.
I was brought down quite a bit, though, when the learning center director sat down with me and shared a tidbit-- the data had come back from the prior semester, and my section hadn't done well. Something I'd mildly anticipated, as that group of students had horrible attendance and participation rates, which was a little beyond my control. Yet, despite knowing things were going to not turn out too well, it was disappointing to hear it from the director, along with the "we need to sit down and discuss where this program is going, and see what we need to change" warning. I prewarned my professor (who'd also found last semester's students to be piss-poor, to the point where she's requested that she and I never be linked to another "learning community" again). It feels rather like being "coached" in a job.
It's frustrating that so much of their achievement has a bearing on mine. I'm limited in how much influence I can have, especially with some of the new rules that have been instituted (the worst: the program is no longer voluntary, which means instead of mentoring students who truly want help, I mentor students who not only don't care, but who are sometimes angry at being forced to attend extraneous stuff); I'm limited by the class dynamics (when Dr. Blackwell heard that the last semester had been with a group of students who'd graduated together from a small high school, she simply said "oooh, yeah, hyperbonding" which let me know that it's a common problem). I might bitch about the bad student this semester, but at least this semester's group is nonhomogeneous; a better dynamic, leading to better sessions, and hopefully better performance.
So, I finally got home Friday evening and collapsed (weeks with the mentoring class = being up for around 30 hours straight from Thursday afternoon to Friday evening), waking up in time to get cleaned up and go to a pre-Mardi Gras party at Heather B's (not that Heather, but a longtime friend).
Now, Heather B. and I have known each other for a fairly long time, and we've grown apart dramatically over the years. We started out as teenage gothy dopplegangers-- long-haired, overly dramatic all-black-wearing kids with black nailpolish and lipstick, writing bad poetry, taking bad photographs, and smoking bad clove cigarettes-- and people assumed we were twins, confusing us when approaching us from behind, etc. That's seriously changed over the years; I fully embraced the nerdy, overly-rational engineer/scientist/academic side of my personality, while she fully embraced her bohemian, arty side.
Which means, yes, I am the only non-artist at her parties. And it often sucks. Here is every meeting that occurs at every party or gathering:
"Hi, I'm <name>. Mmm, how do you know Heather?"
"We worked together years ago, we've been friends ever since... probably fifteen years."
"Oh, I met you at your gallery opening at the Stutz!"
"No, ha ha, I'm not an artist."
"Oh... do you write?"
"I write academic papers."
"Ah! Herron Art School!"
"No, Purdue School of Science. I'm studying to be a mathematician."
"... I really hate math."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"I have to go. Nice meeting you."
It was a little more frustrating last night, however, since I actually had a couple of interesting conversations with people whose demeanor changed completely once the "math" bit came out. Not that it felt like a class issue-- I wasn't being shunned for being "lower class"-- but stereotypes that creative and rational types can't mix kick in. After an interesting half-hour conversation with one lady, she found out I wasn't an artist but a budding mathematician, then said apologetically "I'm sorry, I just can't understand why someone would do that" as she left for a more artistic side of the room.
It's funny because I like dancing, art films, good literature, and interesting music. I can talk at least semi-cogently about current events, pop culture, religion, politics, and history. Despite the dryness of my online writing, I even can have a dry sense of humor. But in the end people expect me to be Spock, and they freak out, thinking that all I'll want to talk about is logic and math.
That's SO great that you were a goth.