Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

Know what is reflective? Tape (the reflective kind, of course). Mirrors (except the one the evil queen has from the Snow White story).
Know what is not reflective? People.
You may want to argue this point with me, but read on to understand my viewpoint on this.
It seems to me that the use of the word reflection (as a descriptor for a personal practice instead of what you see in the mirror) is an attempt to add distinction to something, be it an educational program, or a professional practice, et cetera. This popped up for me during part of a homework assignment I was attempting to complete while willing the beginnings of a migraine to really just be afterimage from looking at the light on my desk. (And, in case you were wondering, it was not afterimage. Stupid migraine. Not only do I have the smallest measurement for height in my family, which I term "fun-sized", but I am also lucky enough to get migraines. Thanks, Mother.) The homework included watching a TED talk. I love TED talks.
(Watch one of my favorites:   
No, this one was not the homework. Still worth it. Probably more so.)
The one I watched was a chemistry teacher talking about how learning is messy. Yes, pause for a moment to appreciate the irony in that statement from a chemistry teacher. His point was that learning doesn't happen linearly. The suggested three rules of engagement for learning included: Practice reflection. There's that word again. But the speaker continues and explains in a way I like. He says that what we learn takes care, and revision. I like this word better. I tend toward analytical thinking. When I experience something I take time to think through the experience, the way it made me feel, how I might alter my responses in the future, what I can do to make it happen again (if it's a good experience, of course!), or prevent it from happening again, and so on. Revision.
Reflection, in my mind, has no action point. No personal change. In fact, the Dictionary.com definition under the word history and origin is:

late 14c., in reference to surfaces, from L.L. reflexionem (nom.reflexio) "a reflection,"  

lit. "a bending back".

It's just looking back at what happened...and then...nothing. Oh yay! That just happened! What's next?

So, what is next? Is 'reflective practice' accurate terminology? I maintain that inclusion of 'reflective practice' or 'reflection' within educational programs and professional environments is just lip service to add perceived distinction or prestige. But I also acknowledge that I have no quality succinct alternate to accurately describe what is intended by these insufficient words. Maybe just reflection and revision. Naw, that sounds too edit-y. No one likes editing or being edited (did that bring to mind the dreaded red pen? It did for me!). Unless you're weird. Then you probably do. Of course we all know I'm weird. Damnit. 

Oh, and if you were about to chastise me for not citing my sources, here's the link to the TED talk that I referenced: www.ted.com/talks/ramsey_musallam_3_rules_to_spark_learning.html 

Enjoy.

Convergence of paths

I started this blog as a way to process my journey through the doctorate program I have now officially begun, as this week is the orientation and colloquium week. I intend for Nonsense Interpreted to be light-hearted and sprinkled with humor, along with the general goofiness that occurs within my brain. This post is going to be a bit of a separation from that intention because this morning I was truly introduced to the members of my cohort and was personally impacted in a powerful way. The collection of incredible doctoral students astounds and humbles me, and makes me question (again) how I, little ol' me, could ever measure up to the knowledge and passion that emanate from these people.
At first I decided to just listen and really hear the information everyone shared, but then I found myself writing down little nuggets that resonated with me. I am not attributing these to anyone in particular (the story you are about to hear (read) is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent...), because, honestly, I'm terrible at remembering names, but really because it truly is a collection from the group. Initially, we heard that there is a process that students go through: first elation, then rejection, then integration, and finally transformation. I'll come back to this in a bit. As I continued to listen I realized the level of self-actualization in the room was staggering. These people have walked their paths and really learned about themselves along the way: their passions, their choices, their strengths, their pasts, and their goals. I was struck by how many of us are educators and regularly get up in front of groups of people, but so many very openly expressed nervousness. And surprise at that nervousness. I considered that the nervousness stemmed from a sense of vulnerability. We are all joining together on this journey without really knowing where we will end up and how we will get there, or really who these people are that are taking the journey with us. But I also noted that even with this vulnerability that everyone has such a strong voice, and not in the sense of what a person sounds like, but in the deep rooted passion and individual identity.
We all also described connection, each in our own way, to the past that influenced who we are today. This description helped create interconnections within the group, I think, as the safety of the space created the opportunity to share. I attribute much of my passion for the natural world and my joy in nonformal education to my mother's influence (but don't tell her I said that!). Really, though, she taught me so much, without me ever realizing that I was learning. Wherever we went she helped us explore and experience the people and place. This continues to influence my appreciation for wherever I go, my desire to be open to what a place can show me. It also drives me to spark passion and connection within others to the natural world.
I also recognize the strength in each member of this cohort group. Strength not only in will, but also in overcoming the vulnerability and really opening up to a bunch of strangers. I listened intently to stories of perseverance, passion, and cultural connection. I absorbed and realized my own influence and readiness for this process as I heard others describe theirs. I acknowledge again how humbled I am to have my path converge in this place with these people at this time.
The morning was a roller coaster of personal and emotional highs and lows. It didn't stop. The afternoon was coursework, and a good reminder that there is so much more in the world to learn. Then the day was rounded out by a discussion with a student who just finished the first year and an instructor who received a PhD through this program. It was difficult to receive the blunt delivery of the information that this program is hard. I have no illusions that this part of my life journey will be challenging and difficult, but I also don't like walking away feeling like I am attempting to climb an insurmountable summit.
So that brings me back to that process that was described in the beginning of the day: Elation-->Rejection-->Integration-->Transformation.
I felt a real sense of elation as the day dawned (that's a metaphor for the start of everything. I just got tired of saying "begun" and "started"). Rejection occurred at the end of the day. Integration of the information and processing of all I experienced, including recognition of the strength and power of those around me followed. Transformation as I end the day telling myself I can do this.
Problem is, I don't usually listen to myself. I mean, really, would you listen to someone who believes a tiger would climb into a van and shut the door behind him/her just to lie in wait? Me either. That's plain crazy talk.

"Ah. No wonder you're extinct."

The brain is a tricky beast. I tried to find the name of the phobia of the unknown, but apparently there isn't a name for it. Which seems a bit ironic to me, to be perfectly honest. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. New things can be scary. Or exhilarating. Or a combination of both. But the mind tends to compensate for the unknown, filling in details from past experiences, including personal experiences or movies or images, as a way to try to prepare for what the future holds. This could be positive and beneficial preparation, or possibly induce more anxiety. Perhaps a mixture of the two, especially if you can find humor in the way your brain compensates. I have an example for you.

Imagine you work at a zoo as an outreach educator. The educational programs that are reserved occur at various times of the day, including into the late evening. This means that sometimes you return to the zoo after dark and put the animals back into their happy homes when nearly everyone else is gone. The zoo does have staff on grounds twenty four hours a day, but late at night it's usually only one or two park rangers, whom you don't tend to see. Now let's say you have a very active imagination, one which keeps you highly entertained generally, but frequently thinks up some interesting scenarios when you are alone in the dark. (Quick aside: it's not the dark that's scary, but what you can't see in the dark...the unknown...) But one evening you are returning to the zoo after a late program, you don't see anyone else, it's dark, and you are finishing the duties of putting the animals away before going home for the night. As you exit the animal building you see the van sitting on the back road and you walk toward it. The scene from Jurassic Park begins playing in your mind, you know, the one where Nedry gets back into the Jeep only to find a dilophosaurus was also inside. You chuckle. Then you realize that there could be a tiger in the van, because dilophosaurus are extinct, and you are at a zoo. At night. Nearly alone. It's perfectly logical that a tiger would get out, walk across the zoo, find the van when you are not in it, open the door, get in, close the door (CLOSE THE DOOR), and wait for me...I mean, you...to climb back into the van. You chuckle again. At this point you are close to the van and about to open the door. Still chuckling, you open the door just a crack, enough for the light to come on inside, then visually scan the inside of the van to verify that there is not a tiger inside (or a dilophosaurus, for that matter) before opening the door all the way to get in and drive back to the office. And you continue to laugh at yourself, while feeling a bit relieved that the scenario in your mind did not come true (it's possible that could happen. Really. Don't doubt the ability of extinct dinosaurs to make an appearance or tigers to close car door behind them.).

So as I pack and plan to drive a couple hours north of the city where I live to start my new educational journey tomorrow, I consider how I can prepare for this program to which I am excited to dedicate the next four years, but of which I am not yet aware of what to expect (except lots of hard work). First item on the list is to always check for wayward dilophosaurus. And tigers.

Who you gonna call?

It's a week away from the first day of the rest of my life. Cheesy enough? Probably not. Every day is the first day of the rest of my life, and yours even, but in one week I will embark on the next stage. The doctoral program. Officially. Up until now it hasn't felt truly real, kind of like when you're a kid and you know an awesome holiday is coming soon but it's still so far away and you just can't wait, but you have to wait. But I guess it's starting to feel more real now, more official, as books are purchased and received, procrastination over reading said books is in full swing, and final logistical plans are made. Oh, and the first dream occurred. Apparently I am more anxious and nervous than I realize because I experienced a wacky dream the other night. The fun with dreams is that over time they get a bit fuzzy and you're not sure if you are really remembering the dream or your brain is making different stuff up just to mess with you even more. My brain does that. Sometimes it's humorous. I don't quite recall the details of how it all began, but I remember my cohort included people who I know didn't even apply to the program. And the campus was MUCH larger than it really is. And had a ginormous multi-story library where people floated around looking at books (which I viewed from a walkway that ringed the open middle area), and when anyone tried to take a picture of it with cell phone cameras (since no one had a 'real' camera...who carries those in dreams?), the pictures all showed creepy horror images instead of what we were actually seeing. Some philosophical discussion could be sparked from this: is what we were seeing real or some veil over the truth? I'm not going down that rabbit hole! I also recall being assigned to a hotel room with a roommate, not being able to find my room, and generally getting lost. I'm sure there's some symbolism there too, but again, I'm not exploring it.
Instead I will focus on looking ahead to what the future holds for me, while trying to stay in the present as much as I can, and continue to look for the humor in things. Like creepy floating people in libraries. Wasn't there a library scene in a Ghostbusters movie? Yes, indeed.

Winning...in brief

Expected cost for textbooks (for the fall...just.the.fall.): $798.92 (not including shipping).

(I'll let you react to that for just a moment )

My cost for textbooks (with the magic of Amazon and ebay): $386.61 (including shipping).

I win.

Sharknado descends.

After graduating from the master's program, I looked forward to a bit of downtime with the knowledge that I had some goals of applying for the Ph.D. program as well as submitting an article for publication. What I didn't foresee was a whirlwind of crazy busy-ness at work that meant I put in way more hours than normal and that made February through July a blur, almost tornado-like (not sharknado-like, fortunately...much better acting). I like to approach each day as it comes because looking too far into the future can cause anxiety and frustration, and spending too much time in the past prevents the appreciation of the present. That being said, it felt as if each day was all I could focus on, with constant triage of tasks just to maintain what little sanity I have (seriously little. minute. tiny. itsy bitsy, even). I knew that eventually I would receive communication of what to expect and how to prepare for the start of the new journey into the Ph.D. program with the upcoming colloquium week. So I waited, unconcerned, treading water (figuratively and literally - keep reading, the literally will make sense in a moment) and getting through each day. Then came vacation. (I did enjoy a pre-vacation a month prior to vacation: a week of traveling with friends and family around California, spending incredibly wonderful moments with people I love very much.) Ah, how I was so happy to have vacation. Two weeks at one of my favorite spots in the world - Hawai'i (treading water make sense now? Good!). The relaxation and sense of home filled me to the core, a much needed recharge of sun, sand, ocean, and culture. Then I received a phone call. It was bright and early one morning when my phone rang (buzzed, actually. I don't like ringtones.). I didn't answer. I sensed it was from the college, but the early hour and relaxation brain prevented clear thought, although I did get a jolt of adrenaline from recognizing the area code.
The voicemail asked about my bio that was supposed to be submitted 3 days ago. Huh? Bio? I wracked my brain trying to recall getting communication about writing a bio and realized the last I had heard was a "Oh hey, soon you'll be getting an email from the head honcho guy who'll be asking you for a bio to share all the things your cohort peeps will want to know about you before meeting them in person in a month" (in those exact words. Promise.). An email followed the voicemail with the same info. Panic ensued. This is how I begin this journey? With completely failing at the first "assignment"? This cannot be true! Fast forward to home from vacation and a careful combing through of email communication when the realization hits that a single letter was forgotten from my email address. (This is occurring with alarming frequency as of late, which leads me to this public service announcement: read email addresses carefully! I feel bad for the person who owns my incorrect email address, you know, the one with the missing letter.) And the realization that other communication was most likely delivered to the wrong person. And the realization that I missed out on other communication. Eek!
You'll be happy to hear that I completed the bio and submitted it with no problem. I also contacted the appropriate peeps about the incorrect email addresses and am now all caught up with the communications. But I'm a few weeks behind on purchasing textbooks and reading the chapters necessary for discussions that will occur in two weeks. Don't worry, though (I know you were worried), I can rock it out and be ready. I got this. What.