ISearch "Why" I search...

This is my own brainstorming. I'm still working out the bulleted questions but wonder if the bullets are needed if the questions are asked like this. This is just a draft...just first thoughts put to paper. Like the rest, will all be polished as it goes along.

Rationale:

I feel that this particular topic choose me more than my having chosen the topic. Maybe it’s the business experience, maybe the community college experience I brought with me into that first semester but there is a cohesion between the community and the college that I don’t see here or anticipate. Perhaps the community within the college speaks to that. That’s what I’d like to find out.

This is my community and my kids’ community. Our education systems represent who we are as a community and reflect our own values. This issue is no different from any other. It’s my responsibility to my community and to this college to speak up when something isn’t working. In order to adequately and accurately do that, I have to understand the system; the way it’s meant to work, the goals it started with and at what point it deviates from those intents.

My experiences with the people for the most part have been good ones. The student population reflects diversity (that magic word) and commitment. The faculty that I’ve encountered fosters that commitment and committed as well to the success of their classes. Joyce Hedlund has genuinely shown concern for the issues that we’ve brought to her and has made great headway in specific areas.

There is still the underlying tone of discontent. There are still issues with transfers and curriculum. There are holes in the system that a lot of student potential falls into. I want to know why, what’s being done towards these issues and what can we as students and members of this community do to help resolve them.

Graf # 12 Classification Reaction

I absolutely LOVED Getting the Bugs Out classification essay example. What an excellent topic! Somehow when I was younger I was under the impression that bugs gave off a sound when they were killed. The others would stop and see who had killed their sister spider and would plan to attck in the killer's sleep. (Sounds like an older brother story, no?) I once went through a can and a half of raid, a bottle of windex and day of laying waste to my house over a roach. My son would don his football helmet and toy army gas mask when he saw me going for the raid. He'd make himself comfortable in some other room. Occasionally, he'd say "Wait!" and make himself a sandwich in case my aim was bad and he was in for a day in his room. Funny, camp bugs are different. I don't mind the baseball size spiders scampering around in the dark. I quietly pick them up and move them outside.

ISearch Introduction:

I’ve attended 2 community colleges since my high school graduation in 1981. The first was in Greenville, North Carolina. Pitt Technical Institute became Pitt Community College the semester before I started classes. We got letters with our entrance packages explaining that they had just made this transition and were working to make it as seamless as possible especially for liberal studies students. They were careful when we signed up to make certain that they understood what our plans were and that our courses would work towards our ultimate goals. At 18, I probably did little more than skim over the letter and tuck it back into the packet. After three semesters, as far as I could tell the transition was smooth. I never felt any resentment from the technical side of the college nor did I take any courses that wouldn’t follow me into my future.

The second was in Columbus, Ohio a few years later. They were right smack in the middle of their transition. I was one of the first liberal studies students to enroll. Again, the courses were transferable and advise relevant to my intended course of study. Granted, I attended only one semester but as far as I was concerned we were all students of the community college whether our courses of study were in the liberal or technical end of the halls.

I expected when I started Eastern Maine Community College that it would be the same. I knew that the school had been a technical college for a long time. I also knew that they had been a community college for a few years. The transition, based on my experience should have been long since acclimated and the wrinkles, if any being ironed out. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. It only took a few weeks of the semester to see that their transition was still anything but smooth and we're 3 years into it.

When I enrolled at EMCC I had no idea what the process was; what courses I needed and which I could do without. I know what I want to do; I want to be a physicist but had no idea how to get there. My advisor, well intended though she may have been knew absolutely nothing about what courses I needed. My interaction with my advisor was more about the process than the usefulness of the courses. I went through the online catalogue and signed up for courses that I thought would transfer nicely to the University of Maine. I was 3 weeks into the semester, past the add/drop period when I found out that most of the courses wouldn’t transfer fully and some wouldn’t transfer at all.

I was excited about the AdvantageU program until I found out that there weren’t two years worth of courses that I could take that would do me any good for my desired course of study. There simply aren't enough courses that transfer to any useful degree. Mostly, aside from the learning process about the learning process, my time at EMCC is to be a waste.

Graf # 11: Meta graf

Well, that one about did me in. Why so difficult? Why so much trouble to make it work? Who knows? Maybe I’m accustomed to bs’ing my way through technique and covering it with humor. Maybe I just got a stick in my crawl about it and blocked it all out. Maybe the physics did me in. I don’t know. I know that I’ve made 4 attempts and I’m writing this not even knowing if I’ve accomplished what I’m meant to do. Oh, I won’t give up. Just not in me to give up but, if I were any other me at any other time you’d be reading about the crazy woman running through the streets of Bangor waving the white flag of a blank sheet of paper. We’re not done yet. Semester is still a ways from being done. Insanity can be a slow process or a quick drop into the depths of the 5-graf essay. We’ll see, I suppose. We’ll see.

Essay # 1: Cause Essay Attempt 3 (sigh)

I keep telling myself that this semester really isn’t harder than last. I tell myself that I was just better prepared last semester for the difficulty. Truth of the matter is though that this semester is harder than last. After careful consideration, I’ve figured out the three reasons that I’m struggling more. English, Physics and College Algebra.

First of all the English class is much more structured than the Creative Non-Fiction that I had last semester. I had only to let the creative juices flow while writing with a particular theme in mind. There were no 5 graf essays filled with causes and processes. If there were they were by accident or hidden in and around narrative and irony. This class requires much more precision and accuracy in my writing.

Precision and accuracy also account for the second reason this semester is more difficult. Physics. Because physics is my chosen profession, because physics has always been a passion that I explored for pleasure, I was under the impression that it would be as easy for me as understanding Taking the Quantum Leap by Fred A Wolfe or A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. Not so. Physics is filled with the details of that general understanding. It is not the understanding itself. Learning the whys of a thing are a lot different than using a thing. Everything in that understanding requires precision and accuracy. Last semester was Chemistry and though fraught with its own difficulties, I was never under the impression that it would be easy or that I would love it.

The third reason that this semester is more difficult is College Algebra. It is a completely different sort of animal than is Intermediate Algebra. The pace is much faster and the concepts more rigorous. It requires much more thought and analysis. Though I appreciate the beauty of the complexity of algebra, it’s difficult at 2 am with a head and a notebook filled with false starts to convince myself that it is anything other than ugly and (dare I say it?) evil. Intermediate algebra offered a leisurely stroll through variables and quadratics. College level requires their application.

I’m beginning to realize that the semesters will get progressively more difficult. By the time I’m reaching out my hand for that doctorate I may well be insane. I have a feeling though that the insanity will be an asset to my endeavors rather than a determent. I can only hope that wandering in and about these 43 year old brain cells is a genius even if bordering on the mad.

Freestyle Week # 6

Pain has the potential to make us angry, fearful, and infantile. That’s our choice. It’s not chance. It’s not a lack of opportunity. It is not my belief that trials and troubles are disguised blessings. I know just that they are. They need to be dealt with just because they are fact. That’s where the choice comes in. I’ve changed from method to method testing the best way to deal with trials and troubles, the best for me being the most satisfying for the long term and the one that involves as little discomfort as possible. Three that I’ve decided absolutely do not work are the ways of anger, woe and nothing.

The angry, resentful way asks “Why does this ALWAYS happen to me? Why can I NEVER get a break? Why is everyone out to get me?” That’s just filled with self pity and self destruction. It brings ulcers and belly problems and cold hearts. I should know. I tried it. For a long time in my youth, I was angry. Longer than I care to remember. Have the surgery scars on my belly to prove it.

I also tried the woeful way. The way that says things like “No, no don’t mind me. I’ll just sit over here and play martyr. No, I’m fine really. Just go have fun and I’ll wait for you curled in this little ball of self pity until you get back.” I didn’t do that for very long I couldn’t even stand the sight of my own self. I lived with men that were like that too, though, again, not for very long.

Another way is the way of the nothing. Risk nothing, do nothing, feel nothing. Hide behind walls and never venture beyond the safe. Life becomes nothing but the wait. Even the “what next” question becomes irrelevant. “Who cares what’s next? I’m barely getting through this.” This has little appeal for me even on the short term. My curiosity is too strong to tolerate this choice for more than a minute or two.

I’m not saying that I don’t go through the anger and the pain and the hurt. I do and often but not for any real duration. I’m not going to waste a whole lot of time in things or emotions that don’t serve me well. I know that life’s going to be difficult. I expect that people are going to let me down and accept it without reservation because I’m letting others down as well. It’s what we do. I do get to choose the degree however. I choose my battles carefully. I learn what works and discard what doesn’t. I remember that it’s nothing personal. The universe is erratic and chaotic and not to be understood. I don’t expect that life will be much different. The way I see it, may as well dance as not.

Graf # 10: ISearch Reaction

I love reading other people’s work. I love reading their blogs and the samples of grafs and essays. It’s the same with these Isearch samples. We’re afforded a glimpse into the people by their choices of topics and in their execution. We’re also afforded a glimpse into the mind of our teacher. I like that you are open to different styles and ideas. I’m glad that you don’t limit our individuality by forcing us into a strict structure. It helps immensely that you offer guidance in the form of examples and ideas without saying that THIS particular way or THAT way especially are the only ways of doing this. Some of us fare better in the open waters of our imaginations than in the chlorinated pools of standardized methods.

Outro: Cause Essay

I’m not saying that I’ve figured out this whole essay writing process. I do know that each step of the way I’ve learned some really valuable lessons that, for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, I’m happy to share with you.

Intro 2: Cause Essay

As with any process, writing takes refinement, practice and patience. Steps have to be taken that simply can’t be avoided. Unfortunately, I have no idea what those steps might be. I can tell you, however some of the things that absolutely will not help.

Prompt Week # 5

Night, water, stars reflecting, ripple of a swimmer, a splash....

It’s so quiet at night. Everyone has gone to bed and I sit in the finally alone of my day. I can hear the loons in the cove. They’re calling me. I tiptoe across the squeaky floor and lift the door so it doesn’t rub against the swollen base making that awful squawking sound. Just as quietly I close it behind me.

The lake is beautiful draped in its starlit hush. My clothes lay like bread crumbs on the beach behind me as I walk straight into the water, rippling the star fabric with my every step. When I am in to the tops of my thighs I make a quiet dive into the stillness.

I swim straight out towards the rocks staying under for as long as I can. The water gathers round me like a second skin. Everything’s been left on shore. It’s just me and that water in a brilliant dance.

I come up for air and roll over onto my back. I can float on the water forever. I let go of every thought and just float. Above me the stars twinkle and warm night air blankets my face and the tops of my toes. Every now and then, I feel a fish nibble on my feet or on my fingers as I drift on the water.

Nothing is better than those summer night swims. Nothing heals or comforts my spirit as well as the feel of dark water on my skin. Breaking through the fear and the mystery of the lake at night to touch the magic and the majesty that first time was the greatest gift that I’ve ever given myself. It’s a present that I open every warm summer night.

Intro 1: Cause Essay

I’ve never been a strictly right or wrong way of doing things kind of girl. I think there’s a lot of gray that can live between and on the edges of right and wrong. Sometimes it’s clear cut. Usually it’s hazy and a bit distorted. I have unequivocally determined, however that in any attempt I make at writing an essay, there are some things that are absolutely, positively wrong.

Freestyle Week #5

I’ve struggled this week with relationships. I’ve struggled with writing and I’ve struggled with physics. I am passionate about all three. I suppose that part of my struggle is the love/hate thing. I’ve managed to come to terms with the writing and the physics. I’ve accepted that I’m going to suck at both for as long as I do. It is not, however a permanent condition. What we love should test us- Constantly. What we love should let us down and force us to grow. We should come back to it a little more humble and changed. That’s the nature of growth.

Nikki used to tell me that every time we catch a glimpse of ourselves, our true unshared, unadorned, naked selves, we are presented with “opportunities for growth”. That’s become my mantra these days. All of the inconsistencies that I’ve seen and felt in my methods with relationships and writing and physics offer me an opportunity to grow.

Don’t think I don’t know how “Dr. Phil” this sounds. Truth is truth. Edie’s cereal box or Einstein’s theories – truth is truth. This is truth. I’ll decide what I can and can’t honorably defend in myself. I’ll take some of those opportunities and leave others for another day. It offers some sense of control, however in situations that feel chaotic to think in terms of opportunity. Sometimes it can even turn chance into choice.

Prompt Week 4

A. You've just found 250 very important emails that your darned ISP managed to temporarily sidetrack for you. What is the text of the most important one?

When I first started using the Internet (I’ve been using computers for many more years than the internet) I had no idea what email was about really. I thought that when I got rid of the computer, my email account went with it. I was living in Bath getting ready to move to Indiana (reluctantly) so, before I left the computer with a friend, I cleaned out all of my email accounts and printed out the ones that I wanted to take with me. I had sent out several resumes and requests for information on housing that would have facilitated my staying in Bath and avoiding the Indiana thing completely. Alas, I gave the computer away and considered the account to be gone as well.

I made that move to Indiana. I loaded all of the belongings that would fit into my Toyota and carried my son and myself across the country. It was a miserable move to a miserable life.

A few weeks after I arrived in Indiana and learned that my email account would always be there as well as the emails, I went back in and found that there were five responses to my resume and 2 for housing. The most important of which read:

“We have received your resume and are very interested in speaking with you further. Your qualifications exemplify our vacancy and we believe it to be a perfect fit. Please contact us immediately if you are interested in pursuing this further as the application process will close in 5 days.”

Where now but for that lost email might I be?

Freestyle Week #4

I hate what I love. My sister coined that phrase (unless she picked it up somewhere else). Regardless of its source, its truth is undeniable. I’m having a love/hate relationship with nearly every part of my life.

I love physics because of its artful dodging, which I hate because it eludes me at a time that understanding need MUST be there. I love writing but I hate the blank sheet with its unforgiving cursor: saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething in a simple little blinking cadence. I just got a stack of new books that I can’t read because of the blinking cursor and the artful dodger.

The circuitous nature of the love/hate relationship offers some relief in the knowledge that it will turn round again and then again and leave residue of the love in the blank spaces of the hate and become some fanciful dance on a blank page either in the form of an equation finally figured or a prompt finally reacted. Until that Eureka! (or at least until February break) I’ll continue to hate what I love.

Graf #8: B M E

I used to wonder what price would be tallied when I made the choice to return to school and study physics. I knew there’d be some price, there’s always a price. I am beginning to think that the writer in me is footing that bill.

I look for her in here. She used to stand so close that I rarely had to peer further than over the top of my glasses. The last few weeks I’ve had to file missing person reports. I think she's just gone. Oh, I’ll find some words here and there and tack them together to adequately describe a thing or a moment but I hear you all yawning. Hell, I’m nearly asleep writing it!

She carried the ideas, she brought them forth, and I took the credit. It was a good relationship. Now every thought is a struggle. Every sentence feels forced and trite and oh so blah blah blah. Anything that comes out even mildly okay is an accident. There’s no writer’s craft in there. Just remnants accidentally put together in a coherent turn of a phrase.

I love physics. I love writing. Even writing about physics these days brings no relief. Dull. Dreary. And yes, it is very much drollery, the process. Am I just lost in the understanding of vectors and magnitudes? Did Xcomp and Ycomp suddenly become the only language that I speak or will she move back in when I make room for her?

Maybe I’m just learning to build a bridge between my passions based on the tools that I’m being given in both. That would make for a rather lovely foundation.

I don’t know what the end result will be but I don’t see this as fatalistically as I did when I sat down to write. I am the sum of my passions. I am a writer and (eventually) a physicist. I am certain that in the final analysis each of my pieces will be made more beautiful by its knowledge of the other.

Graf # 9: Cause Response

Only three reasons for love gone astray? No. I don’t think so. There are definitely more reasons than that. But the writing absolutely did what it was meant to do and that is impressive. Makes it look so easy especially when I’m struggling so with my own.

And, really, which of us hasn’t at one time or another donned the chicken suit and paraded around? I know I have. But there’s no tiara on the upside of a chicken beak for this lil chickaree. I liked the story so much I can’t remember whether or not it served its function. Must have if you included it.

The Red Sox story – not much of a fan. Sorry Mr. Goldfine. I know that admission is gonna cost me some points. What I know of baseball can be summed up pretty easily: Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, the Reds and the Yankees. That particular admission could cost me my life I suppose but truth is truth.

The marching essay was really nice. Sweet and gentle story. I can almost smell the apple pie. I love a voice like that. Now I just have to go and find my own voice and give it a cause.

You really make us work at this writing stuff. One would think you to be an English teacher or something.

Freestyle Week 3

We’re working on the house. Tearing it down from the inside out and rebuilding from the foundation up. We’re living in it at the same time. Every year that I’ve been here walls have come down, the upstairs apartment has been added back to the house, the yard has been dug up to allow for more foundation and just recently work has begun to add a bathroom upstairs WITH A TUB!

I’m a water kinda girl. Summer finds me in it or close to it. These last three years are the longest I’ve gone without having a tub at least every other night. When I say a tub it’s a hot soak for as long as I can get it. Hot water added if need be. The best tubs are the three hot water added ones. I know, not very practical but 27 of 31 days, it’s a hot soak with no added heat. I believe in a good tub. Give me smelly oils and nice candles, a sip or two of wine if you please and some really good music. It’s like a mini vacation for me.

Keith says we’ll have it in a month or two. I already have the first tub planned. I’ll spare the details. Suffice to say that my water allotment will be depleted for the week. And I’ll be the girl walking around like I’ve just returned from Bermuda.

Prompt Week 3

12. Go to a crowded public place (not one of your classrooms, though) and be a fly on the wall. Just watch. What's going on? Set that scene.


I knew before I even loaded the kids in the van that I had no business going anywhere. Wasn’t that I was sick yet but I knew it was coming. I thought I’d just be tough and “independent” my butt through it. Nope. Isn't much that independence can do against a bout with a flu. Stuff just gets in there and takes its shoes off. Doesn’t matter what you do to try and stop it. In is in.

I went anyway. Took Aska to the mall to get his Legos. I did alright in the mall. I always feel sick there so that felt like nothing new. Then we headed to Target. After Doug’s, that’s the store most frequented by yours truly. Not going to try and defend it. Is what it is.

It was in the book aisle. I was looking for a Thomas the Train book for Hagen and as I stood up I felt all the blood drain from my face. The sweating started and there was just nothing but me and nausea. I held on to the cart for support and tried to drag myself through the aisles. Had to get something for supper and dog food. Needed laundry soap and a toaster oven. Threw stuff in the cart. Said yes to the boy's request for “Can I have…” and raced to the register.

“Hi. How are you?’

“Mmmph…” I did manage a sorta smile in return.

“Can I interest you in applying for a credit card…”

Before they ever get that line out of their mouths I’m saying “no” and “no way” and sometimes “no, thank you”. I have NO credit card debt and will not ever have any credit card debt thank you oh so much for asking.

“No. I wouldn’t”

“You sure cause it looks like you could save some real money. 10% off today if you apply.”

“No, I don’t want it.”

“Well, I think it’s a good deal.”

I was trying so hard not to get upset. I wouldn’t have minded her talking if she must, but could she please ring the items through as she tried to tell me that saving 10% today is way better than the 185% I’ll lose on interest in the future

“Really, please, I don’t want the card. Would you please ring this through?”

“Well, I was just trying to save you some money is all.”

My bill was steep. I knew that she was calculating the 10% that she’d tried to save me. Every now and then she’d peer over the rim of her glasses at me with a look of disdain - like I was wasting my money.

She ran the last item through and said “Are you SUUUUUUURE you wouldn’t like 10% off this purchase?”

I had been so careful all day, the antibacterial wipes on the cart; using clean tissues to push the cart around. I got myself out as soon as I realized that it wasn’t just the wine the night before. I did everything the right way. I didn’t endanger the public with my illness.

It took all the strength that I could muster – I didn’t cough in her direction. I wanted to but didn’t. Just gave her a look, carted my missives and left the store. I left her with her good health and carried my illness straight home and to bed but it took all the strength that I could muster.