Broadening and Narrowing My Fashion Horizons

I met my friend Sk. about 4 months before I moved to GradShitTownVille. We met at the shoe store where she works. I'm not Imelda Marcos, but I do have a healthy collection of shoes. Six years later, Sk. and I are still close despite the miles in between; when I'm in Portland, we still hang out at the shoe store where we met.

I am about 40 pounds lighter than I was three years ago; it hasn't sunk in. I think I have an reasonable self image. Over 50% of the time, I seem to like what I see in the mirror. But all the other days, I feel squishy, ugly, and whiney. The boyfriend gives me his frownie face on these days.

I visited Sk. in Portland last week, between attending a faculty meeting (!) and surprising my mom for mother's day. We went shopping.

Scene 1. At her shoe store.

Sk. "Try on these wedges."

I give my skeptical face.

Sk. "Just try 'em."

I've never liked wedges really, but I'm happy to try on shoes. Sk. brought me my regular size 39. They were huge, but super super cute!

Me. "I like wedges?"
Sk. "Your feet got smaller?"

I bought these in the 38:



Scene 2. At Ann Taylor, shopping for "non-dowdy professor" clothes.

Sk. "I don't think you are the size you think you are. Try this dress on. Don't look at the tag, just try it on."

Me. "But it's a 10. I wear a 14."

In my defense, I was at least no longer wearing my size 16 jeans.

Sk. "Just try it!"

Yeah. It fit. It's probably a fluke. Or I'm deluded. Either way, I'm really looking forward to seeing Sk. more often again.

Networking

For many, I think that "networking" is like flossing. It's good for you, but it's time-consuming and it makes your gums bleed. Unlike flossing, which is pretty easy, networking seems mysterious, magical.

I'm reading "The Girl's Guide to Kicking Your Career into Gear," and the authors make the following statement about how not to network:

Don't tell someone you're networking even if you are. Networking should be a somewhat organic exchange between two people who like each other or at least have a lot in common professionally. If you don't click personally, it just won't go anywhere. It's like dating--you know there's the possibility of sex, but you don't talk about it.

Don't start out asking someone what they do. That should never be the only thing that defines you, and if someone is focused only on your career, it leaves you feeling pretty cold.

Introduce yourself when you meet someone new, not five minutes into a conversation.

I think my buddy at W3C2 could benefit from the last one.

Temper, temper!

Walking down the street to the coffee shop, I was giggling out loud to myself. It was my evil giggle, the one that slips out when I'm thinking about my recent evil doings.

* * *

Today there was a meeting on my campus for the World Wide Women In Computing Conference. The W3C2 is a fake name, but the meeting was real. Since it's on my campus, I volunteered to help out: driving a shuttle bus, fielding questions about ATM locations, and taking meeting notes. I try to be a good hostess, which generally involves keeping my cynical mouth shut.

Fifteen minutes before today's meeting, I approached the W3C2 representative to let him know I would be taking notes.

I said, "I was sent down here to be your scribe."
He replied, "Oh great! I'll assume that you don't know what we're doing."
I said, "I'm a graduate student in computer science, I think I'll be okay."
He said, "Well, you may not know that W3C2 is ..."
I stopped him, firmly, "I'm very familiar with your institution."

And then he explained their topic of conversation, which is where I wished he had started. He never bothered to learn my name.

I was very mad. Shaking hands mad. Here is a representative for an institution trying to get more women in computing, and he did the very thing that makes me feel invalidated and invisible. He assumed I didn't know.

Of course, I took beautiful notes. I know the area of diversity in computing quite well, so it wasn't hard to keep up with the conversation. I've also seen many of the attendees at other conferences, so it wasn't hard to add names to the things that were said. But all the time I felt like I needed to swat this guy gently on the nose.

After the meeting he came up to me to arrange to have the notes sent to him. After I got his e-mail:

I said, "I hope you've learned your lesson."
He asked, "What's that?"
I said, "When a woman is standing in front of you, don't assume she's a secretary."
He stammered, "I didn't assume that...I...I just assumed that you didn't know what we were doing."
I said, "Given that you are in W3C2, it's very important for you not to make these kinds of assumptions."
He stammered, "Yes, I'm learning that
I said, smiling, "Have a safe trip home."

At least he faked being receptive to his lesson. Let's hope he learned.

10

In 10 minutes, I will definitely have to pee.

In 10 hours, I will finish painting my attic, part three of "get the house ready for sale right now!"

In 10 days, I will be on a secret mission (more to come).

In 10 weeks, I will be practicing my defense 8 days in advance.

In 10 months, I will be in full swing of Spring 2009, living in Portland, OR.

In 10 years, I will have hopefully decided between a life of "eccentric spinsterhood" or "eccentric motherhood."

How I Got A Job

I said it before. The best advice I ever got in graduate school was from Dr. Shellie who advised, "The best way to graduate is to get a job." I did just that; on July 18th I will defend my dissertation. In late August, I will teach my first class as an Assistant Professor.

People have asked me, "How?" I'll try to recreate the steps and the rough time line.

Step 1: Get a mentor.
September 2006

Some graduate students are lucky: their advisor is a great mentor for the job search. For me, this is not the case. I have spent my graduate career forming an army of mentors who can advise me on topics ranging from family-work balance to handling misogyny. Resources have been incredibly varied: old co-workers, assistant deans, professors in other departments.

But for initiating the job search, one stands out. On MentorNet, I found myself a mentor who had similar interests in balancing research and teaching. She listened to my existential crisis about "having a life" vs. "being the golden researcher." Above all, she was fantastic at kicking my butt. As I fretted over whether to graduate this year or next, she wrote,

DON'T LINGER. You will realize as soon as you are out of there how little this last year really meant to you.

Step 2: Go on tour.
July 2007

With my butt properly kicked, I scheduled summer visits with four professors at three different universities to discover the kind of institution that fit with my own philosophies of education, research, and community. I called it my “Summer 2007 Tour.” I needed to answer some questions. Would I be happy at a small university where I got my bachelor’s degree in Electrical Engineering? Or would I prefer a large state institution like my current one? Something else entirely? After six years of misery and cage fighting, it was my top priority that I find a place where I could be happy.

So I browsed the web, found some people at various universities in the Pacific Northwest, my target geographical location. I sent out e-mail to folks my mentor suggested. I sent out some e-mail to people I had never met before. For example,

Dear Professor,

I plan to be in the Seattle area this July. Given that our research interests in reliability are closely related, I would like to meet with you to have a friendly chat about our current work, about your experiences at Seattle U., and hear your advice about the academic job search.

A note to those of you afraid to network: All of them replied.

My first meeting was with a woman who had been an instructor at a large state school, and now works at Pacific Lutheran University. She said that what she liked best at PLU was that she was no longer the best teacher in her department. She enjoyed being surrounded by a community of educators who put their students first, and who challenged her and guided her to become a better educator.

At the smaller institutions I visited, I was impressed by the real sense of community felt by students and faculty. Faculty talked about how they enjoyed working with their colleagues, how they enjoyed multiple opportunities to teach small cohorts of students. During a campus tour I attended at Seattle University, there was a sincere pride expressed by the student tour guides who talked about their math lab, writing center, and personal attention from their professors.

My summer tour showed me that I would contribute most successfully and happily to an institution that values teaching excellence, emphasizes a sense of community, and seeks to educate the whole person.

But my summer tour also presented a huge stroke of luck. I met with a woman who had been hired by my undergraduate institution in 2005. We were talking about general job search advice, and she stopped, "You know we are hiring this year, right?"

What?! THE school. The very school that I loved so much as an undergrad. I can remember talking with my friends in room 103 of the engineering building about what we'd do when we grew up. I said, "I'm going to be a professor here."

So it was sealed. I would apply.

Step 3: Make a support group.
September 2007


Another stroke of luck. I had a tight group of very accomplished friends who were all braving the job search. Applications would be due in November-January. In September, we started writing our application materials. We read each other's materials. Gave each other feedback. Talked about the rumors and stories we heard about the job search. Helped each other remember stuff we did that would look good on the C.V. "Don't you remember, you moderated that panel, what, second year?" Took each other out for ice cream when we were freaked out about never getting a job. Gave each other pep talks. "No you are not going to be here next year!" Listened to each other's practice job talks.

Step 4: Practice the job talk in front of a live studio audience.

It didn't make sense to me to practice my job talk in front of most professors at my university. These were top researchers who wanted to see a job talk which demonstrated a contribution to the field. They wanted me to say stuff like, "I invented gravity!" Wrong audience.

I was going to interview at small teaching schools. My interviewers wanted to know if I could teach. So I practiced my job talk in front of professors at my university who had worked at smaller schools. I practiced in front of undergraduates at my university. I practiced at another teaching university about two hours away. I videotaped a practice and sent it to my mentor. I got lots of good feedback.

It was funny in a way. All my friends applying to research institutions had to prove they could do research. Having gone to a huge research university, the smaller institutions assumed I could do research. I had to prove to them that I could teach. I only talked about my research for about 2 slides.

* * *

In the end, my job search was:

12 applications. 4 phone interviews. I did an on-site interview at my top choice in January, and they gave me a job offer right away. I didn't feel it necessary to interview anywhere else. I had gotten the dream job I wanted since I was 19 years old.

Other resources:

The Journey to a Teaching Oriented Faculty Position by Tammy VanDeGrift and Janet Davis.

How to Get a Teaching Job at a Primarily Undergraduate Institution by A. Malcolm Campbell.

Sweetheart

Played a lot of Sarah White on the radio show today. She won 2007 ‘Best Song’ for the Mountain Stage New Song Contest for her latest EP's title song, "Sweetheart"

Sweetheart, if you knew the pace at which you fall from grace you'd slow down.
Sweetheart, if you knew the pace at which you fall from grace you'd come down.

Sweetheart, what you need to know it's me that will keep us apart.
Cause my heart doesn't really want to know all that pain you hold in your heart.

So leave, take what you need, go with good speed, the traffic is light.
So go, take what you feel, you need to be real, I'll make it just right.

Sweetheart you think I'm giving up. You think I 'm waking up right on time.
If my heart to you was worth a dime you'd roll me every time.

I'm not 100% sure on the lyrics, but the song is really pretty.

Phase 1 Complete

I have purged all clothing and linens that have not been used in the last sixth months. Moving onto phase 2: furniture.

Let's do the time warp again!

I've been working on reducing. When I moved east, I moved all my belongings. It was a headache. Now I'm about to move west, and I plan to move very little. I am tempted to just burn my house down as I back out of the driveway, headed for 80-W.

She won't. Arson is illegal and she should want to make some money on her investment.

Every couple of weeks, I donate another pickup load to the Habitat for Humanity. I take another box to the library. The last trip I took a file cabinet, a kitchen island, two outdoor chairs, and a box of glassware.

The file cabinet was a Saturday project by itself, because I had to empty it. Its contents were a freakish and undesired time warp of the last 12 years of my life. Things that are now shredded and in the recycling bin include:

1993: 6 love letters from high school boyfriend; I did not reread them.

1993: Parts of a high school journal that depict loving tales of the high school boyfriend, who--in the end--left me for a much thinner girl named Rebecca.

1994: Speech from high school graduation. So. Sappy.

1995: Tax return. How did I live on $7564.00?

1996: Job offer letter from my first engineering internship. I was paid a huge $11 an hour, which allowed me to buy food every day.

1994-1998: Perkins loan promissary notes with a wide variety of addresses depicting how much I moved as an undergrad, always trying to find a cheaper place to live. These also included repeated threats from the government about what might happen if I didn't repay my loan.

1997: The first letter I ever wrote to two boyfriends ago.

1998: Sallie Mae coupons from my student loans that, 10 years later, are still unpaid and living in magic deferral land.

1998: Photograph from two boyfriends ago.

1999: First mortgage, including all the payment coupons.

1999: Sticker from the 1999 Jetta: my first and last new car.

2000: Receipt and limited warranty for my Natuzzi leather couch.

My 2-drawer vertical file cabinet has been reduced to a small Rubbermaid office solution. There's a lot more to reduce before I head west, but I'm happily making dents every week.