Sunday, September 28, 2014

Dauntless


A new job at a school with a large faculty provides numerous gift knitting opportunities.  (I just finished sewing the buttons on this Feather and Fan sweater today, one that is identical to one I made within the past year.)  
      
“Since a new job is almost always accompanied by new surroundings, new co-workers, new responsibilities and many uncertainties, starting a new job is a significant source of stress.” 

                               -Melissa Stöppler, MD, About Stress Management Guide     


       Shoulders back.  Hair styled.  Blouse pressed. Nails manicured.  Like most people, whenever I go on a job interview, I present my best self—polished, suited up, self-assured. I also intentionally and methodically muster up a plan for suppressing any signs of insecurity, so that I appear self-confident.  And I always know whether my tactics have been successful before  I have even left the meeting—whether the encounter was a terrifying exercise in pregnant pauses and awkward responses or a test I mastered, where I vanquished my fears and passed my worry-wart self off as a competent professional.  Of course, in the larger scheme of things, the interview is only a minute portion of the challenges faced when one accepts a new job. 

In teaching, at least, it’s the first year at a new school that’s the most frightening.

I’ve been a bit absent from my blog lately, as I’ve been attempting to navigate the waters of a large and prestigious public high school.  On some days, in my new post,  I feel like the seasoned pro who has spent more than twenty-two years in the classroom and on others I see myself as a naïve first-year teacher, so intent on completing every task perfectly--organizing files, completing requisite forms, handling lessons with flair and aplomb--trying so hard that that I sink slowly gasping for air, ending up bungling even simple administrative tasks. 

At night, I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and my thoughts are always on school.  I think about particular students—the boy who mutters under his breath about the injustice of school cell phone confiscation, or the  poised, articulate daughters of the public school’s aristocracy who bring to mind Emma Wodehouse (from Jane Austen's Emma), reminding me in moments of uncertainty that I am merely Harriet Smith, blessed by their presence, a satellite in their bright and shiny spheres.  A particularly imposing and self-assured teacher also lurks in my nightmares, correcting me for grammatical errors in my emails and chiding me for computer log-in incompetence.  And the parents!    Teacher and administrators both have taken me aside for tête-à-têtes to warn me of menacing helicopter moms and dads, whirling overhead, ready to descend to question a point value on my course prospectus.  


This is a cropped sweater I am making for myself using Knitcol yarn.  The easy ribbing and stockinette stitches make for a stress-relieving knitting project.   


“I’m not an attorney,” I tell my students as I smile broadly with an air of false bravado, and then add, “my online grade book is not the daily stock market report,” updated by the minute so that it can checked twice daily and fretted about.  I live in fear of some mom with sharp cheekbones and insect-like legs, who will stride into my classroom—with the air condescending air of one of Mr. Bingley’s sisters—and view me with derision.  Or worse, she might, in the manner of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, take me to task, not for daring to aspire to Mr. Darcy’s love but for implementing vague assignment rubrics and an ill-conceived grading point system. 

Of course, Elizabeth Bennett would not be cowed.  But, as she is a fictional character and therefore has the license to open the sluice gates to her sarcastic wit.  I am a public servant, of sorts, so biting my tongue, seeking advice from a close friend who is my age and is also new to her teaching job this year, and trying to view each day as a fresh page in a book of notes that will someday come together as a guide to steering the course in a foreign territory.  And, of course, there is knitting. . . .


This is another baby gift, but not for a newborn.  The sheep decorates the front of a sweater that has pink sleeves.  I haven't blocked this yet, so it doesn't look quite right yet.  


I have already purchased some gold and black yarn (my new school’s colors) and if daily life ever calms down a bit (if twelve-hour days become a thing of the past), I have plans to design a school-spirit baby sweater.  With a large staff, my new school should provide ample opportunities for baby knitting.  In fact, I’ve already completed a sweater for one co-worker’s baby to be.    And there is a fiber arts club to get started.  While I don’t want any new challenges at present, I’ll know that when I’m settled in here, when fear and self-doubt are—on most days—memories, I’ll be searching for activities to fill spare moments and will be ready to interact with students outside of the classroom, sharing my love of my knitting hobby.  


Several years ago a former co-worker, Genny, gave me some mohair/acrylic yarn that belonged to her mother who is no longer able to knit.  Genny retired last spring, so I've been working on this shawl for her, using the yarn she gave me.  The lace pattern doesn't look like much here, but should open up with blocking.  I'm using a pattern found in Brooke Nico's Lovely Knitted Lace.   This book is a  wealth of information and provides numerous gorgeous patterns.  

Until that time I’ll continue the daily battle and soldier on.  Facing the  interview, the first day, open house, computer logins, parents, students, co-workers is a  hurdle whose landing is softened by knitting respites.  In fact, knitting might even help improve my job effectiveness.  In an article entitled, "This is Your Brain on Knitting," author Jacque Wilson cites Catherine Carey Levisay, a clinical neuropsychologist and wife of Craftsy.com CEO John Levisay, who says that crafting "improves our self-efficacy" or "how we feel about performing particular tasks."   Elaborating on Levisay's statement, Wilson adds that "psychologists believe a strong sense of self-efficacy is key to how we approach new challenges and overcome disappointments in life. So realizing you can, in fact, crochet a sweater for your nephew can help you tackle the next big paper your teacher assigns."  I can only conclude that if knitting did, indeed, help me obtain my new post, maybe it will assist me in the day-to-day trials faced as a new employee.  I'm also reading a popular teen novel entitled Divergent (it's a movie, too), whose main character Tris faces fearful challenges every day to prove that she is, indeed, worthy of being inaugurated into the Dauntless faction in her society.  While this action-packed adolescent novel is a far cry from Austen's works, the main character's courage and perseverance are as inspiring as those of any Austen heroine.  

This vintage yarn looks a little dull and discolored here, but the photo is a bit deceptive.  The work in progress using this yarn is a color that looks bright and crisp.




Monday, September 1, 2014

Technique (and Technology) Matters




Four, two . . . .  I punch in the five-digit code to the copy machine at my new place of employment. While this school has a reputation as one of the top in the nation and consists of a sprawling compound replete with swimming pool,  the workroom here displays typical institutional shabbiness. The same cinder-block walls, refrigerator salvaged from someone's home remodeling project, and cast-off chairs longing for their glory days of every teacher workroom at every school where I have been employed greet me.   But my dismal surroundings do not depress me, as, after I have concluding punching in the final digit, a happy green light on the machine greets me and humming sound plays what to me is a joyous symphony.  My copy code works!


I have been on duty at my new school for about ten days, five of them with students in attendance. Since I’ve reported to my new post, I’ve had to imbibe so much information, that one afternoon I thought that my head would pop off and roll around the media center (where I was attending a faculty meeting). Student information cards. Bus duty.  Lunch duty.  Tardy policy.  Picture day.  Cell phone seizure (not a name for some strange disorder resulting from too much Instagram activity but referring to when teachers must confiscate these forbidden items). Dress code details--leggings, jeggings, distressed jeans, sheer tops, cropped tops.   


I have also had the opportunity to meaningfully interact with computers in a concentrated amount of time. First I registered for my school system’s Internet and email system and then explored “Intranet,” where I had to use another password and user name to access health benefit information.  Then there was Gaggle to unravel--but after a few emails to the techie at my school, I was able to access that site.   There was also a new Google account with my school email as my user name and then MyTalent to log into (an online teacher evaluation system now renamed and relocated from its former site).  Of course, the tab that I was supposed to select (according to the instructions) did not exist on my screen.  I also had to create a Wiki site, so had to navigate logging into my school system’s Wikispace. Since I’m not that familiar with Wikis and don’t like their limited personalizing features, I decided to create Google Sites for the two levels of senior English I will be teaching.  Of course, many of my students haven’t been able to access the materials posted there, as they’d forgotten their Gaggle usernames and passwords (provided to them freshman year), but after a  week or so, I am blindly believing that they have managed to do so and am naively imagining that that they actually know what homework is due tomorrow.  



Finishing Louisa Harding's Stellina sweater sustained me during a busy time.  Love this
Noema yarn.

During the past ten days I’ve also had to set up a direct deposit account, write numerous emails to the payroll department of my former employer’s central office to see about having my sick days and personal days transferred to the new system, set up my dental plan, and somehow actually prepare to teach students.  There were also some emails involving securing payment for some days in August when I begrudgingly worked at my old place of employment.  


Then there was Turnitin. . . . This website allows students to hand in work digitally, where it can, through some mechanical process, be checked for plagiarism. I'd never used this tool before but welcomed any means that might discourage academic dishonesty. This program isn't free but my new school has paid for teacher access. During the early part of my first week with students, I sent an email to two individuals whom I’d thought might have information about logging into this system.  And then I decided to wait a while before reading any responses I might receive.  I was suffering from online overload and needed to see about what I was going to teach my students.  Something about Beowulf?  Finally, on Thursday, I read two of the several emails I’d received about Turnitin, pieces of correspondence that provided provided two entirely different user names and passwords--neither of which actually worked . . . for me, anyway.  I was ready to throw in the towel.  I once again contacted one of the individuals I’d already  emailed.  Let’s just say that the end result was my cowering apologetically for having neglected to read the detailed instructions this formidable long-time fixture of my new school had sent me (ones that I’d either never read or had merely glanced over).  I certainly am glad I’m not in high school anymore--at least as a student!  


I was exhausted and stressed last weekend but cooking helps me unwind, so I
used some frozen berries to make jam and also made some homemade yogurt.  Both of
these items have been a part of my lunches at my new school last week. 





Cooked milk has to be the proper temperature before adding yogurt cultures.  

I took this picture weeks ago at an outside cafe, when it seemed as if summer would never end and when I'd started to knit a shrug with wonderful Folio yarn.  I unearthed this sleeve this morning and brought it to Cottage Yarn, where I learned about my slipped stitch errors.   

I have a teacher friend who changed jobs this school year, too, although her semester began a week before mine.  She was bordering on an anxiety attack when she called me on a Saturday after her beginning-of-year teacher workdays to vent about the difficulty she was having learning how to teach lessons to sixth graders using iPads.  She’d been staying at school until six or seven every night, even though she is divorced and has two children to tend to at home.  There was a tinge of hysteria to her voice, but I was able to comfort her a bit--telling her to relax, put away the iPad lesson instructions, and do things she enjoys over the weekend.   She walked her dogs and went swimming and thanked me for the advice.  She also returned the favor this week when I called her about the Turnitin fiasco and began quoting to me from a self-help book she is currently reading.  I’m not one for reading that genre, but her words enabled me to take a deep breath and sleep through an entire night without waking up to angst about school.


Not only has this friend’s words sustained me through a tricky period, I have found great solace in my knitting.  While I haven’t pursued any design challenges, I have found myself at Cottage Yarn several times, both browsing and stopping to sit and knit.  I went there this morning to buy some white yarn for a child’s sweater that has an adorable sheep on the front.  When I was there, Lynn, the owner, helped me to figure out what row I’d been working on when I’d put a work in progress in a bag over a month ago and neglected to take it out until this morning.  She patiently examined the sleeve I’d almost finished and told me how she enjoyed figuring out this type of puzzle.  After we’d solved this issue together, she also informed me how I’d been working some stitches incorrectly.  I’d heard that slipped stitches should be slipped purlwise unless otherwise noted in the pattern and had mistakenly assumed that this same rule applied to slip slip knit and other slipped stitches used for decreases.  Lynn explained the twist created by my slipping those stitches purlwise and showed me pictures of correctly knitted stitches. While a bit ashamed of the fact that I’d been working so many stitches wrong for so many years, I am so thankful for Lynn’s technical help.  So much so that I think I will frog the sleeve with the incorrectly knit stitches and start over.  As for Turnitin, I think I might wait until next year before rolling it out for student use in my classroom.  

Friday, August 15, 2014

Sands of Summertime




As I look back, I can’t really label this summer as a relaxing one or even refer to it as a “break.”  On the contrary, this has been a season of muddling through a sea of outrageously expensive car repairs, unpleasant medical appointments, sundry unforeseen household expenses, a disappointing children’s school acceptance snafu, and a serious discipline issue with my older son, who, with his own car and summer job, was given enough rope to hang himself (I’m using figurative language here) and did just that.  On top of those activities, in recent weeks I painted and scrubbed in preparation for a house guest and spent weeks working on a job application.  All along, though, I found both solace and novelty in my knitting. 

Evening knitting and its corresponding release of tension came in particularly hardy the last few weeks or so, after I’d made the decision to resign from my former teaching job to accept a new position in a different county.  I walked into my old school, informed my principal that I wouldn’t be back to teach when school opened up, gleefully anticipating having a having a fourteen-day or so break before beginning a new job.  I was, therefore, taken aback by the assertion of this imposing and stolid man (whom I'd never met before this time) that I wasn’t allowed to leave until he’d found a replacement and that by law he could hold me for thirty days (something about a mysterious contract I’d signed twelve years ago).  Anyway, I have moved furniture and boxes, started one school year at my former place of employment (where school begins a couple of weeks earlier than at my new place), spent a little over a week there, had one day “off” to take my older son to a three-hour medical appointment, and the following day attended orientation at my new school. 

Happily, in the next few days, before officially beginning my new teaching position at a large high school in Charlotte, one with an excellent reputation for its strong academic programs, I hope to try to steal a little bit of summer.  A couple of days ago, I finished my Sand Dollar Tunic, made with seasonably appropriate Cascade Ultra Pima Cotton.  Yesterday I put it on and caught a matinee at my local megaplex movie theater.  I might not have been at the beach, but there is still something about sitting in the dark munching popcorn on a hot afternoon that screams summer indulgence. I saw 100 Foot Journey, suitably light and amusing for a summer afternoon.  

I also plan to spend the next few days working on my Stellina Sweater, a Louisa Harding design.  Knit with another warm-weather fiber, I hope to have this item off my needles before August is over.  As it is often in the 80s and 90s through the end of October in my region of North Carolina, I should have plenty of time to wear this garment before winter.  I also plan to finish the novel I am reading, Charles Dickens’s Old Curiosity Shop.  Last summer, a time characterized by a glorious trip to England and little serious consideration of any practical affairs, I spent a week at Oxford University taking part in a seminar dealing with Charles Dickens as a trailblazing mystery writer.  This year the Old Curiosity Shop has me on the edge of my seat regarding the plight of Little Nell, (I should know what her fate is but can only remember that thousands of people in the 19th century stood by the docks in New York—or maybe New England—awaiting shipment of the part of the serialized story that dealt with whether Nell would live or die).   I find this sentimental story another perfect and much needed summertime escape, but hope that in a year or two my feet can once again walk through London and the English countryside, rather than traveling vicariously through Dickens's world. 

Cables and garter stitch create the front of Louisa Harding's Stellina sweater.  



Until that time, I know that I am firmly entrenched in a time of duty and obligation, where I must muster strength and patience.  While a new job is exciting, I will have bigger classes and the new employee’s burden of proving myself.  I must also enforce new rules and regulations with my son.  (Placing a seventeen-year-old under “house arrest” for a month has frazzled every nerve in my body and challenged my already high strung psyche).  But my knitting, along with reading and infrequent get-togethers with friends offer bright spots along the way.  In addition, my local yarn shop is having a big sale this weekend, and while my stash is rapidly encroaching on my family’s living space, I can’t avoid attending this event, so that I connect with fellow fiber enthusiasts and escape by handling and basking in the colors of the store’s wares.  Maybe I’ll break down and buy one of the many Christmas stocking kits the owner has hanging by the cash register.  Summer’s end is almost here and December won’t be far along.  But before casting on Christmas gifts, I have to get back to a silk shell I started months ago.  I might get it done before the first marking period grades are due at my new school. 

I finished this scarf yesterday, an item made with a Louisa Harding pattern and her
Amitola yarn and pattern.  The rosette is fastened  to a pin, so it can be moved.  I should pack
this away for a future Christmas  present  for someone, but I love the colors.