Me too

"We are in for a spell of perfect weather now, every day luminous, every night brimmed with stars. Picnics at noon, supper by the applewood fire at night, a walk in the cool moonlight before bed."

Gladys Taber

Thus begins an extremely lovely post about the beginning of this glorious season over at High Desert Home. She lives in a desert and I live in a rain forest, and we both adore this season. Today she finds "10 Signs That Autumn Approaches." aaaahhh... Have an apple.

Three and a spare

This is a post about school.

But this is not about school for my kids, because they're not kids anymore. All three of them are taking college classes, one in the army, one as a transfer student taking a community college degree to a four-year college for his bachelor's, and one starting out at community college to begin his degree.

This, of course, does not mean that I am completely free when it comes to their educations. That kid who is just starting out? (oops - I did it again) I mean, That young man who is just starting out? It has suddenly hit him that I too will be in school, and he asked me straight out (because that's how he asks everything), "I'm a little worried. Who's got my back?"

I could assure him. I do. I have his back. It might be true that when he was little he didn't get quite as many read-alouds just for him as his siblings got when they were little, but he can sure have at least the same amount of availability for support in his academic work as his mom's friends from as far back as the fourth grade, his mom's brothers, his dad, his uncle, the parish curate, the friends of the library, his sister, and his brother all did. I can at least decipher syllabi and course descriptions, and I know I can help schedule a life that contains both work and school, and I can teach outlining, proofreading, and paper formatting. That, at least, I could promise him. He'll be okay. I have his back.

But I don't have to teach any of the subjects for anyone else at all this year. Now, it's my turn! Now, the mama's headed to school.

Well ... not to school. I don't have to go anywhere. I thought that this next PLA (Prior Learning Assessment) class would be a good chance for me to try out the online option. A lot of courses could be taken this way, so I might as well figure out how it would work, right? A whole bunch of things have to be figured out right now, and online class-taking is certainly one of them. (Another one is dinner making and laundry doing whilst proof-reading for the young giant and writing for my own credits.)

So. Let's review. I took that first inquiry class. I was on campus, once a week, for that one this summer. Then, I thought that I would not be able to afford to take more than three credits this fall, but things changed, and the available financial aid pays for six credits. Okay ... is that two classes?

Well, no, not if I take LRN 305 next. Here's how it works.

If I take the next Prior Learning class, I pay for the six credits of instruction in order to learn to write for Prior Learning Assessment. In the PLA program, the student does these things:

1. Identifies the stuff learned through life's experience that is the same stuff taught to younger, less experienced people in classrooms. In other words, you find out what you know, and then you figure out the name college courses give to that knowledge.

2. Figure out where that knowledge fits into the degree you want. Is it knowledge from your Liberal Arts Core class requirements? Is it in your major? Is it an elective?

(Those two things were in that first inquiry class this summer.)

3. If you want to go on, the next class is LRN 305. For this class, you choose four courses (three and a spare, in case one of the three doesn't work out) worth at least three credits each for which you could prove your learning, and they teach you how to write for the credits.

That means that I pay for the six credits of LRN 305, but I write for nine credits worth of classes. See what happens? I end up with fifteen credits! Each of my three 20-25 page papers is like a final exam for the class. Each one of those papers has to prove that I know what the students in that class are supposed to know at the end of it, and each one has to prove that I know what I know because I have had personal experience to teach it to me. I have to prove both experience and knowledge in these papers, and I have to prove it in collegiate level writing, properly formatted. Three 20-25 page papers in one quarter.

eeeeeee!

I'm so excited I can hardly sit still! This is so exciting for me!

Another thing I can hardly do, though, is choose. A lot of people come into the PLA program wanting to finish degrees they started years ago. Since those earliest days, they've done professional certifications in things. Or they have been doing things like personnel interviews or hiring, or supervised quality control, or conducted or attended seminars. They know what they're setting out to do through PLA because they're already doing what they want to do, and they already have credits in that direction.

But not me. I am starting from scratch, and the whole thing is wide open, and pretty much any course in the lower division of a general degree is a course I could either write for or test out of. So ... how to choose? In just what direction am I supposed to go first? Where do I start?

Here is where the amazing instructors at Marylhurst come in. These people are incredible. For the last few days, sitting here in my highly unfashionable Recovery From Major Surgery Apparel (a terribly attractive lump of bathrobe and slippers, moving from easy chair to computer chair and back again), I have been in contact through email with the instructors. How am I supposed to choose? I asked. Is there a criteria for figuring this out? I have all kinds of courses to write for. I intend to write for the full forty-five credits allowed. But where to start? Upper division? Lower division? Do I have to do one or the other? Help!

And they did. They helped. All through this whole adventure so far, I have been thinking about the academic learning I already possess but I forgot the whole main point of the entire program! I just might have learned a few things outside of school, you know? Besides all the academic stuff, what else have I been doing? Working at the library!! (clang!)

And so, ladies and gentlemen, if you are still reading, this far down into this somewhat tedious post, here is what I will be writing for this fall, as I take LRN 305.

1. CCM 323, Effective Listening: From Comprehension to Critical Evaluation

It turns out that most adults who have raised families and been in the working world have learned a few things about Effective Listening (she said, dryly, with one eyebrow raised). A lot of people write for this course because it fills a requirement from the communications department, in the same category of learning as a Speech class.

2. CCM 325, Communication of Self Esteem

This is from the course description:

"Judging and rejecting parts of the self cause enormous pain. In the same way that one would protect a physical wound, we tend to avoid anything that might aggravate the pain of self-rejection—for example, by taking fewer social, academic, or career risks. This makes it more difficult to meet people, interview for a job, or venture beyond comfort levels. To avoid additional judgments brought on by our ineffective coping mechanisms, we create defenses—misdirecting blame and anger, perfectionistic work, avoiding accountability through excuses, or other self-destructive life-style choices."

Yeah, I can write for those credits.

And then?

3. ED 109 Library Procedures

or 4. ED 114 Reference Materials

Oh, strike up the band! I can write for those too! I know that stuff! Way back in the dark ages, when I was a fifth grader and Miss Monroe was the librarian, I learned to shelve, self-read, outline, work with Mr. Dewey's Decimal System, use the catalog, and love the library. We didn't have the computers to use for data storage or retrieval, of course. (No one did back in the dark ages.) But it's still the same setup, and I've been using it for all these years. I know this stuff! I can write for those credits! Accredited degree, here I come!

Addendum: I have sent my email declaring my intentions for this next class. I'll be writing for the following three-credit classes:
1. From Marylhurst: CCM 325, Communication of Self Esteem
2. From PCC: ED 109, Library Procedures
3. From PCC: ED 114, Reference Materials
and a spare,
4. From Marylhurst: CCM 324 Nonverbal Communication

As long as you're dreamin' ...

Daydream achiever

A wandering mind can do important work, scientists are learning - and may even be essential

By Jonah Lehrer
August 31, 2008

...In recent years, however, scientists have begun to see the act of daydreaming very differently. They've demonstrated that daydreaming is a fundamental feature of the human mind - so fundamental, in fact, that it's often referred to as our "default" mode of thought. Many scientists argue that daydreaming is a crucial tool for creativity, a thought process that allows the brain to make new associations and connections. Instead of focusing on our immediate surroundings - such as the message of a church sermon - the daydreaming mind is free to engage in abstract thought and imaginative ramblings. As a result, we're able to imagine things that don't actually exist, like sticky yellow bookmarks.

If you haven't seen this article, stop daydreaming, and go see it.

Now.

Then you can go back to your daydreaming. I'm hoping you will daydream (and then invent, patent, and sell) some kind of waterproof thought recorder because I get all my best ideas in the shower and can't write them down in all that water.

Choice

"For Christians above all men are forbidden to correct the stumblings of sinners by force...
it is necessary to make a man better not by force but by persuasion.

We neither have authority granted us by law to restrain sinners, nor, if it were, should we know how to use it,

since God gives the crown to those who are kept from evil, not by force, but by choice."

Saint John Chrysostom

Crawling back in, scrambling up again

Did you do it too? Do you remember?

I have a very distinct memory of working very, very hard to crawl and scramble up onto things. And I was tall! It was a rare thing that required such a scramble. But some things did. Tree branches ... or rocks at the beach ... or hillsides with a good viewpoint at the top and bushes and trees on the way up for grabbing and pulling.

Or down! I've scrambled down to good vantage points or water's edges too.

This is a picture of the Lower Falls at Lewis River. I love this place. (This picture is from Picasa Web. The person who took it was standing at a very good viewpoint. I love standing there - in any season of the year.)

There is a path that leads down to the edge of the river, over to the left of the falls. From there, the power and force of the flowing, falling water pounds and sprays and makes the railing damp - in all seasons of the year. When I stand there, when I feel it - breathe it in - watching what I cannot see - feeling the life-giving water wear away the impervious rock - when I am there, then there is a tightness inside of me which can let go. I can know myself to be part of the whole of the wide and beautiful world, and not at all in control of it. After the slightly slippery scramble down that path, I can stand and breathe ... and know.

In the summer, when the water temperature becomes something slightly above freezing, groups of immortal young people jump off the corner of the falls and into that pool below. I flinch every time I see this display of crazy optimism. I flinch and then I feel again the upsurge of Life's own energy when the diver breaks through the water and back into the sunlight. From where I watch, the pure joy of boundless youth bounces off the trees and rocks, and hits me in the chest.

Today I have scrambled down the path, and I am starting to catch my breath again, and I can feel it at last. At last! I seem to have re-entered my own self once again. Thoughts, and hunger, and sensations like heat and cold and itching ... creative ideas ... impatience at the dust buildup on my furniture ... planning for the upcoming school year. Everything is returning to its accustomed place again. Today is the first day I have been sure of it in a way that doesn't feel brittle.

It's been awhile since I felt so alien in my own body or so completely evicted from my own life.

I do remember it from before, though. This is the feeling that enveloped me from about six weeks before childbirth until about six months after it. That is when the brain can (just barely) take in the information that yes, I am here, in my life, and these people are all around me. But the mind will not accept this absurdity as reality.

The mind says no, dreamer, you are merely an observer. Those people think you are here with them, but you know otherwise. Yes, that is your voice. But you are not really speaking. In that time, for me, there was only one reality, and it was there - with that moment - with the tiny person in my arms and my husband's arms around the two of us. That was all there was. For me, the "baby-moon" was as engulfing and wonderful as the honeymoon had been.

And then, gradually, each time, the mist cleared and the mind cleared, and the mind once more made contact with the brain, and out into the sunshine I emerged, full of the boundless optimism of Life's eternal youth once more. The water ran from my face and hair and eyes, into the pool all around me, and I found that I was breathing air just like everybody else. And someone beside me was crawling out of the pool, and someone above me was getting ready to jump. Oh, it so good to be young and alive and bringing life into Life ... and to know it.

Now - today - I wonder something.

See, I had thought that this was an experience of youth. I knew - over and over - not just with the babies - I knew the scramble and the rocks slipping under the soles of my shoes and the fraction of a second where I am about to fall off the path and into the ravine - and then I don't ... I knew the awareness of a plunge into nothing and a burial in the deep, cold waters ... and I knew the burst of glory into the light and air ... I knew, when I was young (that is what it means to be young), the wonder of the sun on my face when I realized again that yes, I was breathing the same air as everyone else. When I was young, I knew how to die and rise again.

But I thought that I was done with that. I thought that since that is what it means to be young, I was done with that. I thought that was what it meant to grow up.

But today I wonder. Perhaps this is the fount of youth. Perhaps Life is made entirely of deaths and resurrections. Maybe I will be jumping off the rocks when I am very old.