What a difference a week makes

Last week, that is March 28-April 2nd, was kind of a bummer for me. I had to make a conscious stab at happiness in many, many ways. Although last week was by no means the first time I had experienced this sort of thing, it is still something I do not seek out nor particularly appreciate experiencing.

And then difference!

During my lunch meeting with my directing professor, she encouraged me to apply for a position that was just posted on our university website. Nervous, I went home and read the job description. A lot of work…a lot of responsibility…still working within the university but not part of Academia proper…. It looked perfect. I started working on converting my CV into a resume–a really daunting and monstrous task. I wrote and rewrote a cover letter for the first time in my adult life–cover letters and statements of purpose are just not the same thing.

If I were to get this job, I would be able to work with a university that I have come to love (ever since I was a little girl), but more importantly, I would serve students in an advisory capacity. It is not the instruction, advising, or interaction with students that factors into my trouble with teaching. My trouble with teaching falls almost squarely upon the anxiety and agony I feel when forced to grade student work. It takes too long for me to go through a paper, and the reason is that I sit and imagine a scenario where a student will quibble over that one comment or those three points off. What will I tell this student? If they come to argue, how would I justify my decision? I go through this with every single comment on every single paper. Multiply that by 60 students in a semester (for a 2-course semester, which is light–most instructors are given at least a four-course teaching load), and you have a great deal of mental and emotional energy spent on something that probably didn’t require it. (Yeah…ask me, of the 60 students in a single semester, how many of them come to argue about the three points I lost sleep over.)

This job would be the best of both worlds. I would be able to teach without grading. I would be able to interact with students in a capacity that utilized both my degree and training in a way that could actually make me happy. I would make a contribution and feel (at least more than I am now) appreciation.

Yesterday I met with the graduate student whose position this new job will be replacing, and he gave me a great deal of encouragement. Obviously, he didn’t divulge any nasty secrets (I’m not interested in them), but he gave me a very practical picture of what this job is. It’s a lot of work. But I thrive on work. I love work. And I believe I would really love this work.

I can’t get this job out of my mind. I can’t stop brainstorming ideas of how I would improve upon some of the methods already in place. I want this bad.

I meet with the woman who’s in charge of hiring Monday afternoon (in other words, the director–the boss-lady). I really just want her to be able to associate the name on my application with my face. (Brilliant idea by A.Mo., R, and V, by the way. They’re such awesome friends!) I actually feel excited about the prospect of this meeting rather than daunted by it. (Maybe as Monday draws nearer, I’ll feel more daunted…but I don’t know….) I actually want to get the meeting “over with” because I want her to hear how awesome I would be at this job. How excited I am about working in this particular position and in this particular capacity. How perfect I am for this program.

Keep your fingers, toes, eyes, hair, everything crossed for me, my friends. A.Hab. really really wants this job! 🙂