Moments of Joy

In several posts during my dissertation writing journey, I'd sworn off participating in a graduation ceremony.  I reasoned that just finishing was celebration enough and I complained about the cost of the regalia and the whole rigmarole of participating in a graduation ceremony for literally the fourth time.

But my homegirl persuaded me that it was worth it.  "People need to see you walk across the stage!" she argued.  She prompted me to think about what walking across the stage would symbolize for me and for everyone else; I am the first in my family on both sides to ever receive a doctoral degree, and walking across the stage is a testament to others that it can be done.

Now a semester removed from grinding out an existence in the dissertation-writing trenches, I was able to distance myself from that space a little bit and begin to see it in a new light.  I felt better about formally recognizing my accomplishment, and I looked forward to reconnecting with colleagues and mentors in the town that my husband and I consider our first home. 

So, after officially graduating in August, I walked across the stage this month with my adviser and we performed the traditional "hooding" ceremony.  After the ceremony, I hosted (okay, my parents hosted) a reception with a few friends, family, colleagues and mentors in attendance to celebrate.  Before we cut the cake, I gave an off-the-cuff speech thanking everyone, and in that moment, I was overcome with gratitude.  It was just a glowing, joyful moment, and I basked in it.

The following day, my parents had a little holiday get together at their home.  My husband and I were asked to get our guitars out and we played a few Christmas songs.  One of them was "Feliz Navidad." I gave my tambourine to my little bro and he played, and we all sang and clapped and danced while my husband strummed.  I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas!  I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas!  I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart!  Again, I was struck with this overwhelming sense of gratitude.  We were united, smiling, laughing, in a warm, celebratory moment.  I was surrounded by so much love.  It was a moment of pure joy.  And I felt so present in that moment.  I cherished it.

I never want to take these moments for granted.  I want to always be present in them and hold them close to me.

Tomorrow we're checking to see whether I'm carrying a little Christmas present.  Regardless of the result, I will embrace it.  I'm confident that when it happens, it will happen exactly when it's supposed to.

First Semester as Profesora, Done

So, I've come to the end of my first semester as an actual, real live professor.  I have one more section of exams to grade (and then I have to actually enter the overall grades into the system) before I can say I'm done (oh, and then I have the email the bookstore my book selections for next semester before it gets too late...ugh!) but I'm just about there.

While I have honestly enjoyed my time here so far—I enjoy my students, I get along with my colleagues and I've had a ton of support from them as well as the administration—I have to be honest and say I have struggled with insecurity. Some people would specifically categorize it as impostor syndrome.  I constantly question whether I should even be where I am.  Whether academia is where I belong.  My mind gets crowded with perceptions of my inadequacy, my lack of experience, my lack of expertise.  But not just that, the feeling that I should be knowledgeable about a certain thing, or have experience in a certain area, or have traveled to a certain part of the world, but I don't or haven't simply because I haven't given enough effort, further proof of my unsuitability for the place in which I somehow ended up.

But sometimes, little jewels are unexpectedly dropped into your lap.  Things that make you feel like, despite the uncertainty, despite the insecurity, the questioning of yourself and your place, that maybe you're okay. You're not perfect, but maybe you're doing something right.  Yesterday, I got an email from a student that totally made my day:

I hope you are having a good start to your winter break!! I just wanted to email you and thank you for such a memorable first semester. Your class was by far my favorite class because of the enthusiasm and joy you brought everyday. You made my learning experience much more enjoyable, and after a full day of classes I was always relieved to come to Spanish. I also wanted to thank you for your outstanding effort in making sure my needs as a student were met. You wanted the best for our class and you always made sure we knew you were there for us! I felt like you genuinely cared about my development as a student, and that is something a lot of teachers can't do. You don't know how much it means to me that you gave your full effort. Especially since this was your first year at [name of institution] (hopefully you get to stay for many more)! But I just wanted to make sure you knew how much of an impact you had on me. You set the bar high, and I hope to see you back on campus next semester! Have an awesome break and Merry Christmas! 

Wow...I was just floored.  And my little teacher heart felt really warm and fuzzy.  I wrote him back, thanking him for his kind words.

And that brings me to something else...will I be back next year?  I think there's a good chance that I will be asked to stay.  A colleague is going on sabbatical and I've been told that a request to extend the visiting position (my current position) has been submitted to the Dean.  But nothing has been offered or made official or contracts signed yet, so I'm still exploring other options.  So far, I have interviews lined up with two other institutions.  There's a lot to consider.  But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

What I'm wondering now is whether I'll have a little Christmas surprise this month.  It would seem especially apt this month, what with the whole reason for the season being that For unto us a child is born...lol.  I guess the ubiquitous birthing/maternal imagery in our traditional carols aren't made any more clear to you than when you're actually considering "bringing forth a son."  Actually, we'd prefer a girl first, but of course would be happy either way.

As with so many other things, we'll just have to wait and see.

Morning Details

Dimple on the right.  I kiss it.

Chin indentation.  I trace it.  A brief horizontal line above a chin that I softly grasp between my thumb and forefinger, grizzly with stubble.  I have a chin indentation, too, but it's more like a dimple, almost a cleft.  My brothers used to call it a butt chin.

A pronounced cupid's bow on his upper lip.  The only way you can explain a cupid's bow to people who don't know what a cupid's bow is is by mentioning Rihanna, because she has a pronounced one, too.

Deep-set, down-turned hazel eyes.  They could be sad eyes, but when he smiles, you realize they're the kind of eyes that smile more than the actual smile of his lips.  They're framed by ample eyelashes some women would envy.

A small bump on the bridge of his nose.  It happened when he was a kid and took a baseball to the face.  When we went to his hometown together for the first time and he pointed out a ball park, I asked, "Is that where you got your nose broken?"

Freckles sprinkled everywhere.  A small mole in the center of his neck right above his collarbone.

For maybe the third morning in a row, after returning from a too-long shower, I find him still in bed but awake and ask if he were waiting for me to get out of the bathroom.  We both laugh at the repetitiveness, the absurdity, the familiarity.