Category: Writing

How Do You Describe Your Course?

For me, as an instructor, the challenge isn’t teaching the remedial writing courses; the challenge is teaching the more advanced required writing course. While we are told when we teach remedial writing that we can do or use what we want, as long as the kids can write at a college level by the end of it, the more advanced writing courses are a part of the student’s general education requirement, and thus have a laundry list of boxes to check (common textbook, common assignments, common readings, etc). And the students, having already made it through Freshman Writing, don’t really see the point of doing yet another writing course.

I was really excited, however, when I saw that one of the units in the textbook was on “Education.” The current debate surrounding education reform, my personal interest in the role and purpose higher education, the fact the these students have chosen to attend university and typically come from underperforming, rural high schools, I thought this course would be an opportunity for the students to really think critically about their (continuing) education and the education they would want their children to receive. Couple that with a few weeks spent on really talking about rhetoric and rhetorical devices, I thought that this course would be a slam dunk with the students.

I was very, very wrong.

As I was introducing the students to concepts we were going to be talking about in the class, I saw their eyes glaze over the moment I mentioned that we were going to look at education. You could feel the energy and enthusiasm in the room drain away. And once it was gone, I couldn’t find a way to get it back. Nothing I said about education, its implications for them as students and future parents got their attention again. I sort of got a reaction when I mentioned that concept of unschooling, but other than that, nothing. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, trying to figure out how to manipulate their schedules in order to change out of my class.

I was extremely discouraged. How can I get students to enjoy remedial writing, but I can’t get them excited about education, a subject that has touched and shaped all of their lives in a really important way? And then I realized that I had forgotten one of the important lessons I teach my students: words matter. Sounds simplistic, I know, but we forget (and students take for granted) that we can say the same thing in many, many different ways. The meaning itself hasn’t changed, but how we interpret and receive that meaning can vary a great deal.

So I set about rebranding my course. How can I get my students excited about studying and thinking more critically about rhetoric and education? Once I came up with my answer, I had a wonderful epiphany: why don’t I have my students come up with their own rebranding for our course? It would help give them a sense of ownership (the latter half of course will be entirely driven by their own interests in education) and be a preliminary exercise in the power of words, or how rhetoric can work.

And that’s what I did. I told the students they couldn’t change the content of the course, only how the material is introduced? How should I have titled and described the course in order to have ignited their interest? For a generation that has been completely bombarded with ads since birth, they had a surprising amount of difficulty coming up with anything, further reinforcing the need to study rhetoric. We had a couple of interesting narrative descriptions, but a really snappy catch-phrase way to describe the course eluded them.

I shared with them what I came up with: Rhetoric, or How to Get Anything You Want; Rhetoric, or Why you Continually get Conned even though you swear you’re a Cynic; and Education, or Why High School Sucked. Everyone laughed. I had them again. So now, we’re on a mission to understanding how rhetoric works, for better or for worse, and to see if we can’t look at what high school (and higher education) could be or should be, rather than what it is.

It’s all in the words you use.

Obstacle or Opportunity: How do you see your (remedial) course?

I’m teaching three sections of what the university calls Basic Writing, but what is understood as Remedial Writing. These are kids who didn’t achieve a college readiness score for writing on their ACT. These are kids who do not have the writing (and usually reading) skills necessary in order to do college work, in order to really succeed in college. They are often first-generation students, coming from impoverish rural areas with small, sub-par schools. These are kids with big dreams and I, with my required, not-for-credit course, am standing in their way.

No one wants to do remedial writing: students don’t want to take it (who wants to pay for an extra class?), professors don’t want to teach it (good news for me, because it means I have a job).  For professors, remedial writing was not what they were hired to do, nor what they were prepared to teach. So, the class represents an obstacle, something that stands between them and what they really want to be doing. For me, it’s a challenge, an opportunity to help students get to a place where they can take the classes I’ve been trained to teach, the classes that I really want to teach. An opportunity to help a student who would otherwise (most likely) fail and dropout.
I tell this to my students: this class is an opportunity for them to improve, to practice and to hone their reading and writing skills. An opportunity to try, fail, try again and do better. The class is like training, like practice, doing the basics over and over again so that they are ready for the big show, the big game. Coaching and playing on gameday is fun; coaching and performing in the practices leading up to gameday is hard. I tell them that if they see this class as a chore, then it will be; if they approach it as a waste of their time, then it will be that, too. 
The class, as I teach it, isn’t just about writing, it’s about college success. To become better writers, they need to give themselves time, they need to be able to read and recall what they need to write about efficiently and effectively, they need to have skills and strategies to balance their work and life, and they need to know how to get the right kind of help they need. I can teach them grammar until I’m blue in the face, but if the students don’t have the time or motivation or substance to write, then I’ve wasted my time. I tell my students, in this class, I’m here to put you on the right path to get out of here with your degree.
I am not standing in their way anymore than they are standing in mine. I’m in it for 15 weeks. I hope they come along for the ride. 
Tomorrow, how my 200-level (or second-year students) are an even bigger challenge.

Why I’ve Returned to Teaching

“If you want to see those raises, you [the faculty] need to work on retention, keeping more students from year-to-year.”

This isn’t an exact quote, but it’s pretty close to what we were told this week at the Fall Convocation for faculty and staff by the university’s president. After taking almost a year off from teaching, I am now going to be a full-time Instructor, teaching developmental English and Writing II. My teaching load is 5-4, and while I am receiving full benefits, I’m making 3/4 of the salary of a professor (I know-my husband is one). And, being a state institution, all of us are facing shrinking budgets, regardless of rank. “Do more with less” we are essentially being told. And, possibly, pass the kids along so you can keep your jobs.

I’ve written so much on this blog about the hypocracy of higher ed, about how liberating it has been for me to leave and try something new, that I feel like a hypocrite myself for going back to the university at all.  I have very strong mixed feelings. For one, I am so thrilled to be going back into the classroom.  Teaching, for me, isn’t a job, it’s part of who I am, as much a part of who as am as “mother,” “wife,” “sister,” “writer,” “swimmer,” etc. Maybe it’s all a social construct, but that doesn’t make it any less real for me. I missed being in front of a classroom, I missed watching students become better writers and better students, and I missed being a part of something larger than myself. 

I am also grateful that I will be pulling in a regular, larger salary. Grateful, and very relieved. I didn’t escape my education debt-free (far from it), and neither did my husband. His salary alone was not going to pay them back and allow us to live. Outside of the university, the only other real option for a job here is in health care. I may have toyed with the idea, but I’m not retraining for another, completely different career. In this economy, in this environment, I am lucky to have a job.

But, when I hear the administration telling us that we need to do more, much more, with less, I feel a sense of despair.  When I learn that my developmental students have ACT scores in English that deem them woefully unprepared for college, my resolve and enthusiasm wanes. When I read that the university is taking advantage of my passion for teaching, I get angry at the idea that I am allowing myself to be a pawn.  When I look at the statistics and other studies that show that it is disproportionally women who fulfill the roles of underpaid and under-appreciated workers in higher ed, I question my whole decision to give up my tenure-track job for my family. I’ve asked this before, but what kind of role model am I providing for my own children, for the (very) young adults that I teach?

So, why have I gone back to teaching? Because, at the end of the day, I’m making a compromise. For me, the benefits, both literal and figurative, outweigh everything else. I might not be on the tenure-track, but as long as their are developmental students, I have a strong sense that I will have a job. And I don’t see the developmental student going away anytime soon. I can still blog, and I can still try to find a way to change higher ed for the better. I can teach the students who will potentially teach my children. I can open students’ eyes and minds, lots of them (between 100-150 a semester). I won’t pass them along, but I will, instead, make them earn their passing grade.

For now.

If the situation changes, I have no problem walking away, starting (however begrudgingly) over, again. Maybe by then we’ll have managed to pay off some our debt. Maybe by then, I’ll be able to leave on my own terms, not theres. Perhaps that is the best lesson I can teach my kids.

I’m a Canadian (and why that matters)

I had a fantastic discussion today on Twitter about teaching, teacher training and certification. One of the large concerns is how to improve the teachers teaching in the inner-cities who are often minorities and living in poverty (although not always). How can you really prepare a teacher (who is typically white, middle-class, and female) for the demands of a “failing” inner-city school?

I’ve taught at a HBCU and a state university where the majority of the students are non-traditional/Hispanic/First-Generation students. I never set out to teach this particular population, at least not at the beginning; I just needed a job. And, as it turned out, I am good at it. Part of the reason for that is because I am a Canadian. Not through any sort of inherent Canadian superiority, but because the stereotypes the students typically have about Canadians and because I was seen as a “foreigner.”

Now, of course, none of this foreignness is obvious. I look like an all-American girl: blond hair; blue eyes; casual, yet clean, stylish, and appropriate wardrobe; and a nice purse, for good measure. But as soon as I say that I am Canadian, my students suddenly become a lot more curious and comfortable with me. As a Canadian, I am assumed to be a product of a more racially and socially equitable society: we’re the cultural mosaic, we have socialized healthcare, we were where slaves came to be free. This is, of course, both true and a carefully constructed image of the True North Strong and Free. But it also means that the students assume I know nothing, and have no reason to know anything, beyond the stereotypical images shown to me through the media. And they are willing to explain it to me.

I am able to pair that willingness the students show to teach me by showing how genuinely interested I am in learning. I want to know about them and use it to help me be a better teacher for them. I realize that there is a sort-of tourist/visiting colonialist air to that, but when you stand in front of the classroom and give back as much as they give to you, it works, at least for me. Plus, I know that what I immediately see in front of me in no way tells a fraction of the story behind the eyes.

When I decided to go off and start my new life in college, because of financial considerations, I went to a French university (I grew up in the English part of Montreal). The year before leaving for college, we had a very contentious and controversial referendum on Quebec possibly separating from Canada and becoming a sovereign nation.  It was my very first opportunity to vote. The “No” side narrowly won, and the then-Premiere (Governor) of Quebec famously said that it was the fault of the immigrants and money (code for English) that Quebec was denied her right to be independent. My friends and family worried about my safety (and my sanity) when I decided to go to the heart of separatist country (the university I attended once boasted in its promotional materials that it was the most Quebec university, ie white, French, working class, etc. Ah, the days before internationalization was king).  I was told I wouldn’t have any friends, that everyone would be a closed-minded bigot, that it would all be folk music and separatist bitterness, that I would be miserable.

How wrong they were. I went in and made some of the best friends of my life. How could I live in a place and not know the majority of the people, know their culture, but also know actual individuals within that culture? Everyone was burned out on politics, so we did what all undergrads tend to do: drank, studied, gossiped, took road trips, took terribly care of ourselves and spent a lot of time trying to figure out who we were. They learned that not all English girls were icy-cold bitches and I learned that, well, while some of the stereotypes fit, it was never a good fit; it was only one part of the people I met.

Yes, I’m from Quebec. No, I don’t have an accent. Now, tell me a little about yourself. Because I have no idea and I want to learn. Let’s learn together.

A Fresh Start, or Why I’ve kept all of my (informal) writing from High School

I love the beginning of the school year, especially the beginning of the college academic year. I primarily teach freshmen through Freshmen Writing courses and I see in them (and their writing) that promise of a fresh start college often brings.  Shows like MTV’s If You Really Knew Me (which I highly recommend) and stories about bullying throw into sharp focus the pressures teens are facing. I’m not saying that teens are facing anything generations of teens and pre-teens have faced before; read the middle stories in The Little House on the Prairie series to see that kids have been cruel to one another far longer than texting and social media brought it to a whole new level.

Between the pressures at school and the pressures at home, college often represents an escape, a chance to start again. Delete your old Facebook account and start a new one.  Experiment in ways you never could in the fishbowl of high school, under the glare of your parents. I decided when I was 14 that I was going away to university, first on a swimming scholarship, then by whatever means necessary. I knew if I could just survive high school, I could go off to this far (enough) away fantasy land and remake myself.

I have seen students go on and become something different and something wonderful. And I have seen students unable to fully extricate themselves from their former lives and dropping out as a result. I have worked with many non-traditional students who have humbled me with their strength and courage, sharing with me the obstacles they had to (and continue to) overcome in order to become a successful college student, in order to be able to discover and express who they are and who they want to be. I see it as my job to help these students succeed in their journeys. One of the ways is to help them connect with themselves through their writing.

This is one of the reasons why I’ve kept so much of my informal writing from high school and my undergraduate days: notes between myself and my friends, unsent letters to boys, my stories and poetry, and most importantly my diaries. Sometimes these writings are found inside of notebooks, in between half-remembered class notes, written during times when I should have been paying attention. They remind me of what it was like at that age, and what writing was like. How shallow my own arguments were, how cliche the stories and images. I remember so I can go easier on my students, so when I am tempted to say, I was NEVER like that when I was a freshmen, I can look and say, yes, yes I was.

And I also keep them for my own children. My writing, no matter how childish, was still practice. And it was therapy. So when my kids are feeling completely alone, overwhelmed and misunderstood, they can look at it and see that someone else went through something similar and survived. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll be encouraged to write and express themselves as well.

As a mother and a teacher, I know the power of writing and it’s something I want to share.

For all the freshmen out there hoping to make the fresh start, good luck. And write it all down for yourself. You’ll be glad you did.

Reading, Writing and Technology in the (Online) College Classroom

Edit (February 21, 2014): The original post is now gone and I’ve been asked to “unlink,” so I have. I’m keeping the interview up however, since I think it still holds. 

L.O.: Several years ago Mark Bauerlein wrote the article, Online Literacy is a Lesser Kind. The piece questions technology’s place in the classroom, given Millennials’ seeming inability to divorce their free time Web habits from their school-related Web assignments. It also blames the Web for sapping students’ intellectual initiative, in terms of their desire to read novels or untangle metaphors – for example. From what you’ve seen, do you think our “reading culture” is in jeopardy?

Dr. S.: I’m so glad you brought up Professor Bauerlein; I’m a big admirer of his writing. More evidence is being presented that we are living in more distracted times. I myself can’t write without having music playing in the background while continually checking my email and Twitter feed. Part of that is that it is my job to stay on top of my contacts – part of it is that it is convenient that I blame it on my job! While I agree with just about everything Professor Bauerlein writes, I think he doesn’t take the next step: how do we deal with this new reality? We’re not going to convince kids to unplug, not completely, so what do we do?

I say, let’s meet students where they are. Let’s use the web and their web activities as a means to our own ends. A recent blog, Essential Skills for 21st Century Survival: Pattern Recognition, argues (rightly) that students need to be able to recognize complex patterns in order to be able to act and react better and come up with innovative solutions. While this takes mindfulness (which indicates a willingness to slow down and reflect on the information around you), we can teach students to see patterns anywhere. And, at the end of the day, what are advance literacy skills other than a form of pattern recognition and learning to interpret those patterns?

We can teach students to be mindful of whatever they are reading or interacting with, be it video games, social media or even gossip sites. Get students to analyze the writing (and the comments) to see what kinds of patterns emerge, what they can see if they take the time to look. And then, get them to write on whatever they are interested in, some would even say obsessed with, both critically and uncritically. And when they’ve developed stronger literacy skills, more confidence in their writing and ideas, you can move on to applying that to the more “traditional” narratives, such as history or literature.

It is our jobs as teachers not to lament a time passed, but to teach students with the tools we have now. Students went through a similar process when learning to read: first the words, the making meaning from the collection of words, then moving on to added meaning implied by the specific pattern of words. But this was a process that needed to be taught or guided; students don’t just figure out imagery or literary allusions on their own. Why not teach the same skills with those things that students are most comfortable interacting with then move to where you want them to be?

I can understand Professor Bauerlein’s frustration, because as someone who has also taught university students, it is frustrating to see them lacking the skills they need to be successful in college and beyond. It is also extremely difficult to break them of these habits once they hit university; it was good enough to get them here, why shouldn’t they continue on the same path? As university instructors, it is a challenge, especially in English, where most (but certainly not all) were trained in more traditional literature. But we are responsible for teaching the future teachers, so if we want the students we get to be more adaptive and receptive, then we need to teach the teachers better, too. We all need to work together to help our students deal with the reality of the 21st Century.

L.O.: For students, how do you reconcile online writing skills (tweeting, texting, blogging) with traditional composition rules? Do they need to be reconciled? Differentiated?

Dr. S.: Which “traditional composition rules”? The 5-paragraph essay that the kids are drilled on in high school? Students need to be able to adapt their writing depending on the audience and purpose of what they are writing. The answer in high school to how to write is always the 5-paragraph essay, which is completely inadequate for the needs of college. How do you write a 10-page literary essay or 15-page lab report when the only two forms of writing you know are the 5-paragraph essay and texting your friends?

I tell my students that they already know how to adapt their language, message and delivery; they just do it unconsciously most of the time. I ask them to describe their weekend to a close friend (written down) and then describe the same weekend to one of their grandparents (also written down). They immediately see the difference, but we go on to discuss those differences and what they tell us about audience and purpose.

Once students see the many possibilities about writing, they begin to feel good exploring the different types, including blogging. We also read different kinds of essays to see what other writers do well (or not so well). That is one of the strengths of the Internet – the students can experience so many different writing styles, but they can also take advantage of the different audiences out in cyberspace. While the students will be typically drawn by a certain style, they can be taught to see their own habits to then adapt them for different audiences and purposes.

Obviously, you have to teach certain “hard and fast” rules for university writing: proper grammar, no using text language, no slang, little first-person, no contractions, etc. But you explain that these are rules in the same way that LOL and smh are conventions that everyone agrees to follow in online or text conversation. You also need to help them understand that proper grammar and following conventions is the same as showing up to a function properly dressed. You don’t show up to prom in jeans and you don’t show up to a dive bar in a gown. Same things when you write.

Students also need to realize that when they write online (blogs in particular), anyone can read them. Obviously the conventions are different for a blog, but is it a good idea to present a blog post written with completely incorrect grammar and filled with profanity? Who is the audience for that? And what impression will that leave on a casual reader?

We need to teach our students to be aware of their audience and purpose when they write and teach them to be able to move between types of writing, both online and offline.

L.O.: In your own writing, how do you approach the two contexts? How do they compare?

Dr. S.: For me, it’s more than two contexts. As an academic, a blogger on different topics for different audiences, a new Tweeter, and someone who is also trying to communicate with undergrads, I wear so many different writing hats. It’s also different for me because I grew up and really learned about writing as all of this was coming to be and evolving.

I started my undergraduate degree in 1996. I always wanted to be a writer. I did a program where you specialized in Professional Writing and had multiple paid internships as part of the experience. I learned about journalism, technical writing, copywriting, editing and translating, as well as more creative writing. The program was small and so flexible to the changes that were taking place with the rapid growth of the Internet. We took a class in web publishing and online journalism, such as it was understood then. I edited our school newspaper and oversaw the first online editions, which were simply the print articles placed online. All very basic, but really cutting-edge for an English BA at the time.

My work terms were primarily in technical writing for high-tech firms, but I did do an internship working for a government intranet (does anyone even know what that is anymore?) newspaper. I learned a little more about web design and writing for the screen, rather than writing for the page. I contributed columns for a friend’s website (which had started as an email newsletter to members culled from his days on bbs – primitive social media), blogging before it was called blogging. But I hated the dry, formulaic requirements of technical writing, which is where the jobs were, so I decided to do a Masters in literature. And I had to start all over again learning how to write.

The style I had learned in my BA was completely incompatible with academic writing in the humanities. I was trained to write in simple, direct sentences and to say what I had to say in the least number of words possible. Writing 15 pages on a novel, following the conventions of academic writing was the exact opposite, or so it seemed to me (don’t believe me; find an academic article in the humanities). I was also advised to abandon my side activities as a blogger, lest I appear unprofessional in my pursuit of higher degrees (I knew I was going to do a PhD) and a tenure-track job.

I never felt completely at home writing as an academic. But because of the conventions of academia, I felt like I missed the boat on blogging and other forms of social media, including the rapid evolution of web design. So coming into it now, it’s like I’m back where I started almost 15 (15!!!!) years ago, thinking I was a pretty good writer and being knocked on my ass, if you forgive the expression. It takes constant vigilance to remember who my audience is at any given time when I write. I also have to maintain openness in order to learn how to be better on Twitter and keep to fewer than 140 characters!
But one thing that 15 years of experience brings is a certain level of confidence. I’ll be wrong, but it’s ok, I’ll do better next time. All writers, no matter the level, should not be afraid to fail but also be willing to learn from those failures and remember the lesson the next time.

L.O.: Do you use technology in your classes? Is the goal to make your lessons relevant to students, or to make students relevant to employers?

Dr.S.: It’s been a challenge to really integrate technology into my class. I’ve used discussion boards, had students write Wikipedia-like entries on stories, and I try, whenever possible, to save students money by using online resources as to avoid the costs of textbooks. But at the end of the day, students typically come into class expecting one thing and that is to sit and be lectured at with either an exam or paper at the end. To get them to break out of those expectations is difficult. Part of it is to try and make the learning process more active for the students, to get them more involved. Part of it is to get them to think about how to use the technology differently, more actively, as well. Will it make them more relevant to their employers? I hope so, insofar as they will be more adaptive, flexible and early adopters of whatever technology comes along next week.

Professors are not actively encouraged to innovate in the classroom. In our research, certainly, but the time it takes to really experiment and develop new assignments or course structure is seen as better spent on your next publication, especially when you are learning the technology yourself. This isn’t an excuse, but it is a challenge we all face as teachers as we watch the world completely before our eyes. I think, for me, my way incorporate technology is to integrate it as a legitimate &quottext” that can be studied and written about. I think it’s important to mix traditional writing with online writing as that is the world the students will be entering.

L.O.: Online classes are more convenient for many students, but they’re also cost-effective for budget-strapped colleges. Pre-designed courses can be “administered” by adjuncts, and expanded without physical facility costs. Will these facts of e-learning homogenize curriculums, or do the opposite, by removing classroom walls and geographic barriers? 

Dr. S.: Online courses are a lot like face-to-face classes, you get out of it what you put in. And that goes for both the student and the professor. A student could attend every class and do homework for other classes or just simply zone out while spending little time on homework or assignments. A professor can simply read from the textbook or recycle the same lecture they’ve used for the last 30 years.

In the same way, an online class can be a wonderful experience or it could be a waste of time. Some professors treat it as a high-tech correspondence course while others work really hard to make it a really immersive experience. And some students treat online courses as a learning opportunity and others as a way to get easy credits.

As for pre-designed courses, that’s already happening in face-to-face situations in courses such as Freshman Writing. Low-paid adjuncts are handed textbooks, assignments and criteria. Or, because of they have so many courses at different places, they begin to keep reusing the same course over and over. Could it be made worse by moving the whole enterprise online? Yes. Could it be glossed over by pointing to the very real potential to reach non-traditional students? Yes.

Not really sure what to do about it, unfortunately.

L.O.: Some view e-learning as a “delivery” choice, others say it has to be a fundamental component of your teaching theory. Where do you stand?

Dr. S.: I think, as I said above, we need to meet students where they are. And if that means having forms of e-learning, then so be it. But it doesn’t mean that all students are on the same level technically. The great majority of Twitter users are older than 25. I’ve taught non-traditional or first-generation students with no reliable access to a computer or the Internet. So we have to make sure we achieve a balance and, again, to work with students where they are. Because 5, 10 years from now, the undergraduates will be completely different in terms of their technical knowledge and skill. The future may be in hand-held devices, smart phones. We have invested so much time and energy in certain e-learning tools, but it may be the wrong tools. If I could, I’d get into the app business. We, as instructors, need to be as flexible and adaptive as we hope our students to be.

The Resiliency of Trees

I was “trained” in literature.  As a result, I tend to see symbols, metaphors, and analogies all around me.  Some days, it’s obvious, like the terrible parenting day where (among other things) my son broke my “Best Mom” mug.  Or when the Internet ate, not one, but two of my initial blog posts for this site, forcing me to start all over again.

Other days, I have to work hard to make meaning from what I see around me.  I live in an area that was recently hit with heavy rains and flooding.  Because of the poor weather and conditions, I had not ventured outside much in the weeks that followed.  When I finally did hit the highway, I was struck by how the landscape had changed.  Rock formations that had lined the highway had crumbled from the onslaught of water.  There were huge canyons running down those same walls where the water drained.  But most striking to me were the tress that had slid down the rock faces and where now clinging to the edge.

A majority of these tress were still green and in bloom.  You could see their roots holding on and already beginning to explore their new surroundings, looking for the best place to hang on, get water and stay grounded even though the ground had shifted beneath them.  And, a small number of tress had already bent themselves vertical again, standing up while their roots were growing more beside them then underneath them.  Grass and wild flowers were also starting to grow on these rock faces, from the dirt that had slid down the sides with the water and erosion.  Nature in all of its destructive and resilient beauty.

This resiliency is not new to me.  A little more than ten years ago, I was living in an area that was hit by an ice storm of epic proportions.  Trees had inches and inches of ice caked on them.  Metal towers that carried power lines crumpled like paper under the weight of the ice.  Some places lost power for more than six weeks.  Driving, you saw these bare trees, bent under the weight of the ice, running parallel to the ground.  But once summer came, the highways were lined with green leaves all over the trees.  It looked like nothing had ever happened.  Ten years later, you can still see bent trees in the winter, but many of them have righted themselves, pointing upward towards the sky once again.

I wonder if the trees hanging over the edge of the cliffs will climb their way bag up the hill, roots slowly pulling the tree towards more stable ground.  But, another heavy rain could just as easily push those trees  all the way to the ground, uprooting them and leaving them for dead.  I really hope the trees just stay where they are, hanging over the side and flourishing.  Because I never would have noticed those trees if it weren’t for the fact that they had broken free from the rest, been given the opportunity to appreciate the resiliency of trees.

I looked at those trees and they looked like I feel, pushed out from where I was comfortable, pushed over an edge, hanging on for dear life.  Except I was the one who pushed myself over that edge by choosing to start my own business, leaving academia behind.  And now, will I bend upward and flourish, spreading my roots to secure me, or will a heavy rain fall? I look at those trees hanging on, and I remind myself that I will hang on, too.

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