At present, I find myself, once again, in the city that, by merely calling it a city, produces a paradox that will never be resolved, Quito, Ecuador. If you have been so valiant to have followed my writing since last year, you already know about my love-hate relationship with Quito. If you're a new reader, do the following, and not necessarily in this order: go back and read my rants and raves about Quito (if my opinion interests you, that is), do some research on the highest capital city in the world (I'm sure Wikipedia will suffice), if you're considering putting Quito on your bucket list, please don't let me discourage you (after all, it did make Nat-Geo's list of top 20 places to visit for 2013) and, lastly, consider if you really want to keep on reading me (just trying to save you, before you go over the cliff). The truth is, there must be something about Quito that keeps bringing me back; it certainly has nothing to do with the insanely unpredictable weather, horrendous overcrowding, mile-long traffic jams, choking pollution, and one of the scariest airport landings you can experience in your life. No, I think it has more to do with the food, the traditions, the people, the Historic Center, the relevance and historical significance, the beauty of the surrounding Andes mountains and a certain Dra. Báez and her amazing family. Whatever it is, here I am again, under about 5 blankets during the 45-50 degree nights, to keep warm, and swinging in a hammock on the balcony, with the 70 degree breeze blowing and the sun shining bright (most of the time) by day.
All of a sudden, I find that I am free to think for me again, and that is something that hasn't happened much, well, since the last time I left Quito. In the past few days, I haven't done much by the standards that I was living in the U.S. over the last 7 months, but those standards, at least in my opinion, could really use some adjustment. This brings me to the main point of this entry, a bold statement that I am going to make based on my life during the last four months, "There exists, in academia, a restriction on instructors that incredibly limits their capacity for intellectual creativity, thinking and development." Of course I can't speak for all instructors, nor can I opine on the experiences of tenured professors (I can only assume that it is much worse for them). I can simply put forth my own personal experience as an adjunct instructor and logically assume that it is similar for others.
I'm justifying my prolonged absence from writing by stating the obvious, there was just no way I could write. That's the Intellectual Stagnation of Academia that I am referring to. Yes, I mean me not being able to take a second to think creatively and be inspired enough to post a sad blog entry, but I am also talking about so much more. I would venture to say that a large majority of instructors and professors in institutions all over the United States (especially in state universities) are faced with this predicament that finds them sacrificing their intellectual potential. The following are some of my own personal for instances: I could work on that collection of short stories that I have been writing, or I could write up this week's lesson plans, I could read Freire's thoughts in Pedagogy of the Oppressed, or I could read the 75 essays that I assigned, I could consider working on getting published, or I could grade exams before other things pile up on top of them, etc., etc. I understand that this kind of work is simply part of the life of a teacher, but there must be something wrong when the people we look to as intellectuals can no longer be intellectual. My guess is that there are hundreds of instructors that are using survivalists/self-defense teaching methods and materials (that are most likely sub-par) as a means to not lose their minds.
What other choice would tenured profs and other instructors have (especially adjuncts that teach 5 courses or profs with classes that have 100+ students), other than to use the same tests they've had for the last five years, implement the use of sometimes arbitrary test formats like Scan-trons, recycle lesson plans, etc.? These are the effects of the commercialization and capitalization of university studies. Higher-ed in the United States has been made into a business; students aren't encouraged to follow careers that interest them, careers that will help them to expand their minds and grow as people, they're encouraged to study whatever degree will help them gain the most money in life. State universities all over the U.S. are pushing for larger and larger enrollment numbers so that they can benefit from the millions of dollars that roll in from private and federal funding; they aren't in the least bit concerned about the turnover rates (who cares is less than half graduate, the university still benefits from those millions of dollars that came in with the huge incoming freshman body). Who suffers in the end? That answer is obvious, the students and the instructors.
As for myself, I wanted to be the most effective instructor I could possibly be. This meant that I wrote a new and original lesson plan for every single class, created and prepared new materials daily, read and reread the text several times, created and uploaded new and original exams, assigned writings (definitely not the easiest of assignments to grade), etc. All of this meant that I had to sacrifice an incredible amount of "me-time." As a result, I haven't written anything new (aside from exams, assignments and grading comments) since July, the latest piece of literature I have read is Experience Spanish (the text for my Spanish 101 & 102 classes) and I truly forgot the beauty of sitting down with a cup of South American Joe and contemplating life.
Was it all worth it? Yes, I think so, yet it would have been nice had there been some sort of middle ground. I was able to get through to some students, I had some really great experiences and I think some of these amazing students really learned and grew a lot (I can only hope that they will continue to pursue their studies and further their intellectual capacity). Really, as most teachers will say, it's the handful of unique experiences, the connections and inspiring students that make putting yourself through that kind of a wringer worth it. Effectively teaching three courses and having a second job on the side was an insane task, one that I should have known would have resulted in my extreme disillusionment and near loss of sanity. However, if you want to live the "American Way," what other choice do you have?
Thus, I have gone South once again, to live the "South American Way," at least for a while. O'er I am in search of a meaningful experience that will make me feel whole again. This time around, however, there is no solid plan, nothing established, and, at present, there are no leads. The only thing I do know is that something will turn up, and, at least, I won't be alone this time. For the time being, the Andean mountain range sure looks beautiful from the balcony and that hammock is calling my name.
As for myself, I wanted to be the most effective instructor I could possibly be. This meant that I wrote a new and original lesson plan for every single class, created and prepared new materials daily, read and reread the text several times, created and uploaded new and original exams, assigned writings (definitely not the easiest of assignments to grade), etc. All of this meant that I had to sacrifice an incredible amount of "me-time." As a result, I haven't written anything new (aside from exams, assignments and grading comments) since July, the latest piece of literature I have read is Experience Spanish (the text for my Spanish 101 & 102 classes) and I truly forgot the beauty of sitting down with a cup of South American Joe and contemplating life.
Was it all worth it? Yes, I think so, yet it would have been nice had there been some sort of middle ground. I was able to get through to some students, I had some really great experiences and I think some of these amazing students really learned and grew a lot (I can only hope that they will continue to pursue their studies and further their intellectual capacity). Really, as most teachers will say, it's the handful of unique experiences, the connections and inspiring students that make putting yourself through that kind of a wringer worth it. Effectively teaching three courses and having a second job on the side was an insane task, one that I should have known would have resulted in my extreme disillusionment and near loss of sanity. However, if you want to live the "American Way," what other choice do you have?
Thus, I have gone South once again, to live the "South American Way," at least for a while. O'er I am in search of a meaningful experience that will make me feel whole again. This time around, however, there is no solid plan, nothing established, and, at present, there are no leads. The only thing I do know is that something will turn up, and, at least, I won't be alone this time. For the time being, the Andean mountain range sure looks beautiful from the balcony and that hammock is calling my name.
