budding scholar

Or, the final chapter of this blog.

I decided over the summer to change course and start a new blog that was focused on more than my life as a “budding scholar”. There’s an awkwardness to becoming an academic, to finding your voice and ideas. This blog has been a place to grapple with that awkardness, and then some. I don’t think I’ve found my way out of the moments of discomfort that come along with my work; they still show up. But I decided I wanted to find a blogging voice that included not only who I am as a researcher and writer about education policy and immigration, but also who I am as a writer (hopefully of children’s books one day!), a photographer, a reader, a creative seeker, a cook, a speaker of 3 languages…

Come visit, my new blog is called “daily fieldnotes“.

I’ve been enjoying daily updates from Inside Higher Ed this summer, learning a lot about the ins and outs of a university job. I’ve found the summer writing column especially helpful, and this post about the academic job market (including suggestions of books to read). Check it out if you plan to spend time in any area of higher education!

Each year Berkeley puts together an optional reading list for incoming students, and this year’s theme is “Education Matters“. Surprisingly, I’ve only read one of the books on the list. Thinking about heading the library to read more. Also wondering, what else would be a good addition to the list? One book I loved this year is Teacher Man, but Frank McCourt. Other recommendations of books about teaching or school?

No buildings, only squares of light on an inky black canvas night out the window just now. Dripping rain, splattering on the already-sleek courtyard. A siren headed up the street towards the hospital a few blocks away. I stand and take the photo through the open window, click. Holding tight so my phone doesn’t fall 7 stories to the ground.

Thinking about how stories begin, and end, like this. Details against a canvas of night, sounds echoing against ears, a patchwork of lighted windows. A remembered, or forgotten, twist in the story of a house, a neighborhood, a year, a life.  Light, dark, lights on dark. And then?

I heard from the Spencer Foundation, didn’t get it this year. Big disappointment, lasted for a few days.

A friend made her goal, and inspired the rest of us to think about how we can make big dreams happen.

In sum: doubting myself, and believing in others. And feeling amazed it’s May, and so much has happened, and hasn’t, and it’s all about to change again.

Part of my dissertation project involves interviewing lots of people about their work in schools and education policy, and I hear a whole lot about change. How the kids changed with immigration, how they have a lower level than they used to. How policies that have no concept of how things really work in schools come down and make people do things differently. How immigrants from some people refuse to change. How immigrants from others have changed too much, lost contact with their home cultures. How people here want all newcomers to change and be like them. How the teachers need to change, or the students, or the parents, or the whole system.

Hearing all this talk about what people think here has me thinking a lot about change. We all agree that things change over time. We live it, see it in the people we know. But at the same time we see how things stay the same. Inside ourselves, in the people around us, in our communities. The push and pull between feeling things change, and feeling they never will, fascinates me. Do people change? Do places like schools? How does change work? How does one person make another change?

When you close your eyes and think about it, do you believe in change? In yourself, in the world around you? Why or why not?

Perspective, focus, from a favorite photo taken the other day. Waiting to hear this week about that fellowship I applied for last October (they said by end of April). A chai latte from Starbucks on the plaza in the sun (my first time in Barcelona). Wandering through the late spring afternoon, arms linked with my husband, wondering about what comes next for us. Reading the newspaper in Catalan and understanding it. Debating language politics while eating tapas, perched on high stools in a Basque place near our house. Now, dusk falling over the courtyard out our bedroom window, stillness falling across the bed. The muffled voices of neighbors arguing above us. Two weeks left in this apartment, this city, this space of our lives.

The weekends are a time when I get distance from my project, space from the day-to-day, hour-to-hour intensity of interviewing people and observing in schools. I try and take one day off, not touching the project at all, usually on Saturdays. Then the other day I prepare for the week, usually on Sundays. Yesterday we took the afternoon off, hiked up to Parc Güell, Gaudi’s famous park that is so popular with tourists in Barcelona. We kept going up and up until we could see the whole city spread out below us in all directions.

Looking forward to getting past the nitty-gritty everyday of my project (for now anyhow), and getting some perspective this summer. Until then, three weeks of intensive fieldwork remain. Time to go organize the Sunday to-do list…

Have you heard of William Kamkwamba, the boy from Malawi who built a windmill using books from a small library at his school? I’d heard of him but never seen his book. Today I helped my younger sister with a writing critique of it, The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, and it inspired me to look up his TED talk. WOW. What a courageous, inventive, inspiring person who makes us think about education and inborn talent and what development can be. Thanks, Lethy, I can’t wait to read the book and learn more about him!

…go! It’s April and I’m nearing the end of the Fulbright and this first phase of dissertation data collection in Barcelona. It’s challenged me hugely, forced me to get better at approaching people, imposing gracefully, and asking for things. Just three months ago I had to write down my introduction and build up the nerve to make phone calls in Catalan (which rapidly turned to Spanish). Today, I still had butterflies in my stomach at picking up the phone, but understood every word and was able to make 4 different phone calls in Catalan and set up interviews with people. This is important for understanding people working in education here, and a personal accomplishment to have learned this much Catalan in so little time. Now, the final phase of research begins. Goal: 50+ interviews by the second week of May. I’m optimistic and motivated to work hard these last weeks. The prize is near!

**Credit goes to my husband for these great pictures, taken on a short vacation to Italy last weekend.**

See you soon, I hope to start posting more often again!