Last week, I was lucky enough to give a talk at a teaching conference. I spent two days at a beautiful mansion-turned-conference-center, talking with other English instructors about different ideas to try out in the classroom. I spoke on ways we might reduce gender differences in class discussion. Both of my supervisors were there, along with a crowd from various local colleges and universities. I spoke in an intimidating, book-lined library.
The weather was beautiful: upper 70s and sunny the whole time. The conference atmosphere was very laid back, and we were encouraged to explore and socialize. I walked around the grounds with a group of people from my university the first night I arrived, and later went on a late-night walk with some of my friends and people from a local community college. The night walk was especially wonderful. We borrowed a couple of flashlights from the front desk. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and we could hear owls and coyotes. We passed around a flask, and a couple of people had beer bottles in their pockets. Everything was relaxed and easy. Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I roamed around the grounds some more, walking down to the main house (we stayed in a guest house on the property) to get water and explore some more. I stood outside for a while, looked up at the stars.
The next day, after giving my talk, I took a solo hike out to see some of the incredible statues the original owner had sprinkled throughout the expansive grounds. I spent an hour exploring. I brought my iPod but chose to leave it off, and instead tried to focus on how beautiful my surroundings were. Everything couple of yards or so, a cloud of butterflies would lift off the ground and flutter around me, only to settle further down the road. It was warm enough that I rolled up my sleeves. It was unreal.
The room I stayed in was gorgeous, too. It was a room for three people, but I only shared it with one friend from my department. We each had our own bedroom area. There was exposed brick, bright windows, and a screened-in porch. I brought a rocking chair outside and sat under a huge tree, getting some reading done for my feminist theory class.
The food and company was great, too. There were four of us from my teaching cohort who stayed in the rooms next to each other. We left the doors to our rooms open most of the time, and moved back and forth, talking and drinking beer in the evening. We vented about teaching, and dating, and so many other things. We bounced ideas off of each other on the long car ride back home.
I spent a lot of time clearing my mind and sorting things out. I've often felt like I didn't know what I wanted to focus on in school. I've often wondered how everything -- all my interests -- might come together. I've often felt like I don't know anything, don't really have an emphasis. I like literature, sure, but was never sure how that might fit into everything else I do. Being at this conference made me realize I want to pursue teaching and tutoring methods that are influenced by feminist theory and good examples of writing, and that I've already started to do those things. It made me realize that I might even be good at those things. I love what I do, but until now, I've often wondered how the different elements of my academic life might come together. What will I do when I graduate? What are my goals?
Though I don't have all the answers, I was able to better appreciate what my strengths are. Getting good feedback on my presentation helped, and it was also great to hear what other people in my field are doing. The conference was inspiring and rejuvenating. I also remembered how important being outdoors is to me. I don't know that I could live in a big city for long. I'd much rather look outside and see mountains, forests, trees older than anything else around. If I could get paid to teach and tutor writing and literature somewhere out west or in the South, I'd be happy.
I wanted to write this all down so that I can remember how lucky I am to be surrounded by good people, even when I am often unhappy with the larger program. To remember that I do have an emphasis within my studies -- feminist pedagogy. And to remember how beautiful things -- especially the natural world -- can be.
