Classless (For Now)
I am officially (except for the part where I have to spend the summer writing an entire book proposal on an as-yet-undetermined topic) done with school.
It hasn't really hit me yet, although I suppose that will happen next week, when I go to graduation for the second time without walking across the stage and receiving a degree. How does the saying go? Oh, yeah: always a graduate student, never a graduate.
Well, not "never" (I hope).
At least I don't have to attend any more classes. I can do the book proposal on my own, kind of like an independent study. And I have until September to finish it—assuming that I want to receive my degree in October. (I'll get it in the mail. If I want to have someone hand it to me officially, I'll have to go to graduation number three next May. I'm not ready to lay odds on that happening.)
What I really need now is some time to decompress. I feel kind of like Tom Hanks's character in Cast Away—the part after he's rescued, when he's having trouble reintegrating into the world and trying to get back to his old life.
I'm not quite sure what my old life is anymore, and it's too soon to really have a handle on what I want my new one to be.
One of my classmates from last year said she went through some kind of post-traumatic shock in the few months after graduation, that it took her at least that long to want to go back to reporting and writing again (something she had done—and loved—before school).
I have no idea how I'll feel once I finally finish (or even start) this book proposal, but I know two things so far. First, that I crave both structure and daily interaction with living, breathing, speaking beings, which means that I will most certainly be looking for some kind of job. I'm definitely not hard-wired for the freelance life.
Second, I am itching to teach. Not journalism, actually, but what I'm calling for now basic writing literacy. If you think back to high school, you probably remember a kid in algebra class who said, "Why do I need to know this? I'm never going to need math in the real world." (Maybe you were that kid.)
The class I have in mind is aimed at the kids (or young adults) who feel that way about writing—the ones who never had an affinity for it, never discovered an aptitude for it, and did everything possible (maybe even taking math classes!) to avoid having to do any of it.
I've been ruminating about a curriculum for years now and am just starting to—hah!—write it down. Once I have it together, I'm going to look for a way to try it out, probably by offering it for free (and maybe in condensed form) through a community group or a nonprofit.
I actually had to learn a fair amount about curriculum design in my pre-J-school job, and it's been fun to dredge up that knowledge and apply it to something I'm passionate about.
It's also fun to have a leisurely morning at home with Zach, without an imminent deadline hanging over my head.
Is it a dream sequence? A flashback?
No, wait.
It's finally real.
It hasn't really hit me yet, although I suppose that will happen next week, when I go to graduation for the second time without walking across the stage and receiving a degree. How does the saying go? Oh, yeah: always a graduate student, never a graduate.
Well, not "never" (I hope).
At least I don't have to attend any more classes. I can do the book proposal on my own, kind of like an independent study. And I have until September to finish it—assuming that I want to receive my degree in October. (I'll get it in the mail. If I want to have someone hand it to me officially, I'll have to go to graduation number three next May. I'm not ready to lay odds on that happening.)
What I really need now is some time to decompress. I feel kind of like Tom Hanks's character in Cast Away—the part after he's rescued, when he's having trouble reintegrating into the world and trying to get back to his old life.
I'm not quite sure what my old life is anymore, and it's too soon to really have a handle on what I want my new one to be.
One of my classmates from last year said she went through some kind of post-traumatic shock in the few months after graduation, that it took her at least that long to want to go back to reporting and writing again (something she had done—and loved—before school).
I have no idea how I'll feel once I finally finish (or even start) this book proposal, but I know two things so far. First, that I crave both structure and daily interaction with living, breathing, speaking beings, which means that I will most certainly be looking for some kind of job. I'm definitely not hard-wired for the freelance life.
Second, I am itching to teach. Not journalism, actually, but what I'm calling for now basic writing literacy. If you think back to high school, you probably remember a kid in algebra class who said, "Why do I need to know this? I'm never going to need math in the real world." (Maybe you were that kid.)
The class I have in mind is aimed at the kids (or young adults) who feel that way about writing—the ones who never had an affinity for it, never discovered an aptitude for it, and did everything possible (maybe even taking math classes!) to avoid having to do any of it.
I've been ruminating about a curriculum for years now and am just starting to—hah!—write it down. Once I have it together, I'm going to look for a way to try it out, probably by offering it for free (and maybe in condensed form) through a community group or a nonprofit.
I actually had to learn a fair amount about curriculum design in my pre-J-school job, and it's been fun to dredge up that knowledge and apply it to something I'm passionate about.
It's also fun to have a leisurely morning at home with Zach, without an imminent deadline hanging over my head.
Is it a dream sequence? A flashback?
No, wait.
It's finally real.
posted by Jody Rosen Knower at 4:43 AM
2 Comments:
Congrats! Why not get your feet wet with teaching writing at the 826 Tutoring Center? You know, the one on 5th Ave in Park Slope with the super-hero store out front and is associated with McSweeny's?
http://www.826nyc.org/about/volunteer/
Peter (Karen and Alan's brother)
Yay, Jody! And you may have already thought of this, but if not, you should talk to Sandy's (as in Prof. P.) wife, Daphne, because she is a reading and writing specialist. Part of her job is working one-on-one with high school students on their writing.
Post a Comment
<< Home