Smiling, Not Crying

"Don't cry because it's over --
Smile because it happened."

-- Dr. Seuss

I like that quote from Dr. Seuss. It applies to all kinds of things in life.

But I'm applying it to what's happening today -- it's my last day as Chairperson of the English Department.

I've been thinking all week of what I want to say about this day, and about the last three years, and I'm still not really sure what it should be.

I've had a funny career at Southern. It hasn't been anywhere close to what I had planned on it being. (But then, I'm the king of "things haven't worked out exactly as I've planned them," aren't I?)

Eleven years ago, I chose to come here for two main reasons. First, because it's a teaching-intensive school. Some schools reward you for writing books, with teaching being kind of secondary. Others are the opposite. Once I caught the teaching bug, I knew I'd want to be someplace that rewards teaching, like Southern. Second, I came to start up a professional writing program. And for two years, I did those two things -- teach (a lot) and recruit students into the professional writing program.

Then things changed. The university started up a new writing program, and I was asked to be the director. I did that for four tough years -- tough because the program was controversial, with people being required to do things they hadn't been required to do before (but should have been). I liked a lot of that job, especially getting to run workshops for faculty from all over the university. I got to meet and get to know a whole lot of great people. But the controversial aspects, and the fights they caused, really wore me out. After four years, I was a little burnt out, and wanted to go back to teaching (the reason I came to Southern), so I resigned....

....And was promptly offered a position as Coordinator of the university's Faculty Development Office. I said yes, despite the burnout. Faculty Development involved doing a lot of the the stuff I loved in the job I'd just quit, plus I'd still teach half a normal schedule, along with the administrative work. I liked this new job well enough, but there were difficulties there, too. Every job has its difficulties, obviously, but I missed teaching. It seemed like the administrative work took away from the time I could devote to students. So after two years, I resigned. I really wanted to just get back to the classroom. I love working with students. Even when things don't go well, teaching energizes me, because I like trying to figure out ways to make things work better.

About two weeks after my Faculty Development replacement was named, our department chair resigned abruptly. The reason involves a long story, not worth going into, but as the summer wore on, the department didn't have a chair, and decisions needed to be made soon. I was asked by a bunch of colleagues if I'd take the position. I refused -- I knew this would mean even less teaching than I'd already been doing for six years. But after a few weeks, I was asked by colleagues who represented enough different interests in the department that I knew I'd have broad support. (We have the largest department on campus by far -- close to 100 full- and part-time instructors, with about 3000 students taking English courses every semester. Our department is actually bigger, by those measures, than 10 or 12 institutions of higher education in the state.) The department wasn't in great shape in a lot of ways. Fighting, mistrust, general selfishness. I thought maybe I could do some good. (Plus, truth be told, I get restless easily, and I love the promise that a good challenge brings.)

I think I did make things better over three years. People have told me so, and I work someplace where people don't necessarily give compliments unless they mean it. I had lots of help, of course, from people I worked with closely, and from the department as a whole.

I have to say, of the three administrative positions I've held at Southern, I enjoyed being chair the most. Maybe it was because I got to be "the boss," and make decisions about a lot of things. That wasn't necessarily the case with the other positions, despite the titles I had. Maybe it was because, by the time I became chair, I had been here for 8 years, and I knew everyone, and more importantly, I knew myself, and was a whole lot more confident in what I could do. I also didn't try to control too much, didn't force my opinions and perspectives on everyone else. And having a lot of support from colleagues helped, too.

I knew I wasn't going to do this for more than the three year term I signed up for. I wanted to get back to teaching -- I had wanted to for years. When my third year started up last fall, people started asking if I'd do it again, and I told them No. It was never in my career plans to be chair. In December, I got the official letter saying the department needed to start the process of naming a chair for the next three years.

And then, of course, came January, and the NHL diagnosis.

Convenienty enough, the NHL gave me an excuse to let the department know just why I wouldn't be serving a seond term as chair.

The timing is good. I'm ready to go. Cancer has changed me in small ways, but one of them is an increasing lack of patience for pettiness. And unfortunately, a lot of what I dislike about being chair involves dealing with others' pettiness. I'm also, in very small ways, finding it harder to hod my tongue when I frustrated. A big part of my success as chair has been my patience and my tongue-holding. So...it's a good time to be done.

I'm looking forward to going back to teaching, although, I must admit, I'm still not burning to return just yet. I have a couple of weeks to get enthused. I'll get there.

Even having written this entry, I'm still not sure what to say about it all. It was certainly an important three years for me as a member of the department. I don't have any regrets.

I guess it kind of forces me to think of the next phase of my life now. I've been lucky to be on watch and wait -- I didn't have to give up being chair or being a teacher to go through some treatment. No disruptions to my professional life, anyway. So now I go back to being just a regular professor. (Peter told me last night that he was glad in some ways that I was done as chair, since he knew it stressed me at times, but a little bummed because it diminished his bragging rights. I'm sure his friends have been very impressed my being chair of the English department.....)

It isn't scary, exactly, to think that something new is going to happen, medically speaking, as something is ending, professionally speaking. But it does kind of make me stop and think a little more deliberately about what happens from here. One door is closing, and now I'm waiting for another to open.

Not necessarily looking forward to it, but I know it's something I can handle. Whatever it is.