The Horror and Beauty of the Exit Interview

So today I had my credential interview. It was very rewarding experience actually. I think the worst part was the anxiety before I went in the room. It was lingering in my head the whole of spring break. I could not think of anything else. I was horrified, yet determined to pass. I know there is a very high percentage of passes, but I felt unsure because I have never had an experience similar to this. There is nothing to compare it to. Throughout college, I have been the student that sits in the shadows. The one who understands, but usually has nothing to say. Sometimes I was even invisible and the professor ignored me altogether. It is sad really, how I let myself do this. It is not like me to be in the shadows. I am actually very loquacious, but I let my voice become choked by intimidation. I guess I still have a second chance because I have decided to further my education. I still have the opportunity to make up for so many years of silence.

Anyway, I was planning to study, to put myself in the setting of the credential interview. I had asked a friend to pick works for me to analyze, but that never happened. At some point, I think I began to resign to the fact that I would be taking the interview and what ever would happen....well...would happen.

The anxiety, the worst part of it, began the night before. I felt like throwing up, going out into the streets and screaming. I stayed up until 3 in the morning reviewing information I didn't even know I would use. I also did not eat very much. Then, came the day. I planned it all out. I allowed about two hours to getting ready and picking out the books I would take with me. I went to work for about an hour and a half in the LRC before the time came. It was good practice I must say. Working in the writing lab as a writing tutor has helped me a lot.

Then the time came. I walked to Karin's office to pick up the materials. For the first time in a while, I had the most stoic face there could be. Even Karin pointed out that she had never seen me like this before. My co-workers did so as well. I picked up the sheets and I felt my vision begin to blur. There were so many words, I didnt think I would be able to decode them, to unravel their meaning.

A Hemingway short story about the nothingness in life, a Rainier Wilke sonnet about the torso of Apollo, and three poorly written essays were what I had to work with. I new what to do, but I could not bring myself to start. I decided to set three alarms. There was one for every half hour until I had to go to present my findings.

Then I let myself become engrossed with the writing. I realized I have always had the tools to complete the task at hand, but I didnt see it until that moment. It clicked. The text and I were a single person. I was watching the characters in the story and I knew why they did or said what they did.

Then came the sonnet. Scansion, looking for metaphors, problems, random key points. It was suddenly so simple, but I had only an hour for this and the student essays. I highlighted the similies in green, the discrepancies in pink, and other important information in yellow. It did not take me as long as I thought to unpack this poem--to find its problem and solution. Even though my slight paranoia told me to keep looking, I decided to move on. The student essays, they were the best, although it was different from being in the writing lab. In the lab, we are not supposed to mark up the comma splices or the other technical aspects of the essays. We work on the work as a whole and point out common errors. When we do this, we usually teach the student how to fix their own errors. I mentioned this, but yet I still commented on the student's lack of knowledge of the coordinating conjunctions, the wordiness, or the run-on sentences. They seemed to like this.

After this, it had been about 50 minutes into the interview. They asked me to leave the room and wait outside. I kept pacing and tried to open a book, but I couldn't. I was not nervous though. For some reason I felt like I passed. I felt a confidence I had not felt in a long time. I was in the zone and I knew in my heart I had done my absolute best. After about 10 minutes or so, Baxter calls me in and I look and him and Bryson...as nonchalant as ever.

You passed they say. I am still sitting there thinking about who knows what....it takes a while to sink in. When it does, I just smile and say-- yay. They tell me my comments:

You were really good at explicating the work of fiction. The detail you provided about the poem was great. You really know how to explicate a poem. We liked that you used the terminologies in the student works and you have proved that you know what you are talking about.

After this, we laugh, wander in tangents for a bit and I leave. I couldn't explain why I started crying when I got to the elevator. I think I was overwhelmed...and above all proud. I can do this, I thought. Any doubts wiped away and I felt extremely happy.

I now know I will be a great teacher, because I cant do the job and do it well. I will never forget this experience. :)

Ever wondered what a Marilyn Manson fan looks like?

This is an aspect of me that many people question or hesitate to believe about me. I am indeed a Marilyn Manson fan. Why? Because upon closer examination of his life and ideas, I realized that he is an artist. He points out very deep and interesting ideas. Not a lot of people know that he has a B.A. in Journalism. He is also a water color artist as well as lyricist. He has played a very big role in my life in that he has helped me discover myself and made me want to change the world. He basically preaches to be yourself and change the world in your own unique way.

Yes, he might wear make up and look strange, but would he be where he is if he had not? He has gained such a large movement through his shock value and because there are so many people who prejudge based on appearance or because of the clashing sounds in his music. Marilyn Manson has made me a little more aware of the world and how it works. He has inspired me to think and to further my education, but first and foremost to take a closer look before I judge someone. I used to dislike him because of his appearance, but then I realized that there was so much more to the creepy man who's notorious for drug usage and provoking religious institutions.

Here is a lecture he gave a while ago if you are curious....


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qesHn-CXFgY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxiFfYX7JYs&feature=related

An Unexpected Surprise

Here is something I recorded last semester, I thought I would share it with you. I think I have gotten more involved in this class. This time around, I feel the ideas we talk about a little more deeply. I do not know what it is, but I have a very good feeling in this class. I cannot explain it, but it feels something like my soul is opening and letting the experiences we share enter and overwhelm me (in a good way).Anyway, here is a my poem.




Gabcast! English 495 ESM #2

Poetry, The Perplexing Commodity

I have always had a taste for writing poetry. I do not consider myself as a prolific writer, but I have always written poetry. It is very different to being on the outside--analyzing it. . It is a completely different point of view. I have found that when I write poetry, I tend to focus on being able to descriptively portray a feeling or an image through words. When analyzing, the focus tends to be more on decoding these images and finding a holistic meaning using terminology formulated for this purpose. Being able to write an essay about poetry after a few semesters of focusing on prose, made me remember this focus. It also helped me realize that poets might not necessarily intentionally create certain connections that we as critics come up with.

A poet could be trying to draw a connection to his/her life, while a critic might draw connections to something that is completely off. There are an infinite amount of interpretations for one set of words. It is no wonder there are so many people who are confused by poetry. I think that if people know that writing poetry is personal and writing about poetry is drawing a meaning from the actual text, there would be less people confounded by poetry.

I can only imagine how high school students now-a-days feel about poetry. It must be very difficult to differentiate between the two points of view. It is hard enough to be a college student and attempt to analyze a poem. I want to make it easier for them though. I want to attempt to help students to be able to both write and analyze poetry. They might not necessarily like it, but at least I will be satisfied if they can accomplish it.