Continuing continuing education

I'm being held hostage by my career- with that said, I am spending my 29th birthday at the mercy of the University of Phoenix.  To those teachers out there, you'll understand my strife sorting out longevity issues related to a provisional license.  Last summer, I spent my days focused on Miles' heart surgery, not keeping up with my graduate work.  And as I type now, I have no regrets for the alerted focus of my life.  Umm... hello?  That's what being a parent means- your life loses its singularity; decisions and directions explode into infinite and unpredictable directions.  Mommy-hood means living at the mercy of multiple destinies, and that's cool by me.

Anyways, I'm ringing in the new b-day year by diving off into the deep end of on-line education.  I took an on-line course over 2 years ago, and I struggled with the detached nature of the experience.  Content wasn't so much the problem as was remote learning.  I love being in the classroom.  Well, duh, I am a teacher.  Nothing beats the smell of chalk and the humming of overhead projectors.  Actually, a lot beats that.  In fact, the new technology in the classrooms blows my mind.  I'm of the generation that got wet ditto sheets for assignments, and I still remember that cold, slimy feel of a freshly dittoed hand-out.  Hot of the press pages couldn't even handle pencil marks- I remember having to double, no, triple my lines to make a gradable impression.  

Now kids get to play, I mean learn, with wireless keyboards and video cameras used as document projectors.  Very exciting times theses are.  Now that I've slipped into Yoda-esque speech, I'll get back to the point.  Yes, classes.  I'm slated to take 12 credit hours in 9 weeks.  Gulp.  That is really ridiculous, but I have to.  Such is the nature of teaching contracts, especially for those of us who didn't focus on education on the undergraduate level.  Me?  My degree is technically in Literary and Cultural Studies, but my focus was on Comparative Soviet Cultures.  I've got a BA in BS- turn me loose in at a cocktail party, and I'll blow your mind with parallels between 1950's sci-fi films and US anti-communist propaganda; give me a martini and I'll chew your ear off on how Alice in Wonderland and Rebel Without a Cause illustrate how absentee parental authority and the decline of patriotism became bedfellows following World War II.  Ask me to balance my check book or to solve a word problem- I'll get faint and give you some random Freud quote dealing with second cousins, sheep and used Yugoslavian vehicles.  What?!?  Exactly, that's my point.

Prior to teaching, my brains were used for frivolous endeavours.  Now that I have a purpose, a direction, I must bust my Cheez-It lovin' butt to maintain it!  If my posts dwindle, know that I've much rather be blogging here than on that other site for $250 per credit hour.  But I've got to do what I've got to do.  What other options do I have?  There is no place for a non-Russian speaking Soviet culture expert anywhere except in her own head.   Sadly, my neurons don't provide comprehensive health coverage.  For if that were the case, I'd hold court with Glasnost "glitterati" all day long.  Wish me luck at being legit.