Monthly Archives: September 2018

Doubting my Ability to Complete my Master’s Program

Academic Writing, Centre for Academic Communication, Cognition and writing, Cognitive process and writing, Distance students, Education, Graduate student writers, Inspiration and motivation, Learning disability, Productivity, Revision, Tutoring, Writing process, Writing resources

By Barb Fouts-Melnychuk

This is my first official blog post and I am thrilled and nervous to write at the same time.  I have just finished my seventh course for my master’s program in Curriculum and Instruction focusing on Literacy.  At this point in this 13-month journey I fall asleep if I sit still for more than ten minutes.  Hilarious but true!  Being a literacy consultant, doing a master’s program and trying to balance a family simultaneously is tough.  What made the workload even tougher is having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and a learning disability.  Translation:  I do not process directions, readings, people’s comments or class discussions in the patterns my classmates did.  My unique learning style translated to 25 very rewarding years teaching junior high, or as you say in BC, middle school, but the learning style has not made grad school easy.

I started a master’s program in July 2017 because as a consultant last year in Alberta, I supported 13 junior high schools and coached 100 teachers.  I was asked to come back month after month and every meeting there were more and more teachers in attendance.  Junior high teachers want to adopt practices that transform their student learning.  In my school district in Edmonton, there are 100,000 students, and approximately 263 schools.  Translation:  many teachers want to adopt their classroom practices to meet the varied needs they see hourly. My master’s program has given me the language and capacity to walk into every classroom or school, see the strengths of the staff, listen to their “what if we could . . .?” questions and find the scaffolds and strategies to support the inquisitive professionals. The master’s program also highlighted my learning disability and required me to ask for help.

I have always had difficulty writing for academic purposes because I could not understand the patterns I was to follow.  I saw connections between the theories and classroom practice. Twenty-five years of reading, studying, practicing and planning, which resulted in 55 to 60-hour work weeks, allowed me to find ways to motivate and engage my students. My whole career I was able to get results from students that were supposedly unattainable or from the students who don’t care. In my classroom I have LOVED making literacy theory practical for my students and my colleagues!   What my insane work schedule did not do was develop my writing skills for academia.

Then the Learning and Teaching Centre came on my radar after a professor this summer handed back a paper saying, “Barb you get the ideas and theories, but you need an editor to find the transitions and develop the coherence.”  The comment was said with kindness and in support, and I had already come to this realization during my last 12 months.  One of my supportive cohort members suggested the Centre for Academic Communication (CAC). I was spending HOURS trying to meet the academic standards and barely making it.

It is so humbling to ask for help once again in my academic studies.  New to me, NOT!  My grade 12 Chemistry teacher was so excited when I got a 67% on the provincial diploma exam.  He told me that mark meant more to him than so many of the students who got honors because of the hours of work he saw me put in that did not result in higher grades.  Yet now I was in a master’s program asking for help. Did that mean I did not actually have the stuff to be here?

At the CAC I asked for an editor and received a writing coach!  What a delightful surprise.  Someone who read aloud what I had written and allowed me to hear the lack of coherence and then that same someone asked me to clarify how the ideas related?  These were easy questions and I quickly rattled off the answer and then typed as if the keys were on fire and I had to quickly unload my ideas from my hands.  The words flowed from me because the gift of ADHD is that I learn the material to a level of specificity that most people don’t see.  My brain wants to understand the theory of literacy to the degree that I can disperse the theory into practical application for all the teachers I support.

I would leave an hour’s session at the CAC so excited and energized that many of my cohort group are planning on using the writing supports during the 2018-19 year as we complete our project.  My fellow grad students could not believe I revised 800 words in 45 minutes and took the quality of my writing to a much higher standard.  Not only was my writing more aligned with masters degree benchmarks but my confidence soared after each visit.  I started to realize I could write and that I was in grad school for valid reasons.  I want to help teachers so that I am really helping teenagers embrace the potential they have and encourage them to heal and bring hope to combat some of the ugliness in our world.

Who knew one hour could do so much?  Luckily, I did not, and I was so grateful to have been able to sign up for three hours in my last week.  My writing abilities can almost leap tall buildings in a single bound and it’s just in time.  This master’s project is going to take every writing skill I have and now I have more.

 

About Barb

Barb has taught junior high/middle school for 25 years and is now a literacy consultant with Edmonton Public Schools.  She has taught for many years, in all four disciplines, but landed in English Language Arts.  Her love of diverse learners has allowed Barb to teach the spectrum of learners who are gifted to learners identified with special needs.   Barb is part of the international Freedom Writer Teachers and is looking forward to the year when she finally figures out all there is to know about teaching. She can be reached at barb.melnychuk@epsb.ca

 

 

 

Learning to swim again

Academic Writing, Anxiety, Centre for Academic Communication, First year in graduate school, Posts by Madeline, Reading, Research

By Madeline Walker

With a wry smile, I look back on my first class as a graduate student. I registered for twentieth-century African American literature and eagerly signed up for the first seminar presentation.  The task was to comment on the third chapter from Paul Gilroy’s seminal 1993 book, The Black Atlantic, in which Gilroy presents his theory about a transatlantic Black culture that transcends diasporic differences.After a long spell away from university, I was jumping in head first. Little did I realize how deep the pool of knowledge was!

Although I knew a bit about the history of African America (slavery, the 13thamendment to the Constitution, Reconstruction, the Civil Rights era), I was completely unprepared for the kaleidoscope of concepts and ideas I needed to make sense of Gilroy’s jargon-laden writing. In every paragraph, I was confronted with dozens of new terms, for example, “post-structuralist,” “textuality,” and “metaphysics of presence.” What was the difference between “modernism” and “modernity”? What did Gilroy mean by “the politics of authenticity”? Who was W.E.B. DuBois and what was “double consciousness”?

My head was barely above water as I sputtered away. Worse, I had the haunting sense that the professor expected me to be familiar with the context and debates embedded in the book and the class, to breathe underwater. I wasn’t and I couldn’t.

The way I saw it, I had two choices. Quit now, or move forward. I had already quit grad school once in my twenties, and I didn’t want to disappoint myself again. So I chose to move forward. To avoid getting mired in feelings of inadequacy, I simply started where I was. I puzzled through the layers of ideas by making notes, asking questions, looking stuff up, and reading around the subject to build meaning from the chapter.  I relied on prior knowledge, basic reference books (dictionary of critical theory, encyclopedia of African American history), the introduction to Gilroy’s book, and book reviews of The Black Atlantic to help me find my feet at the shallow end of the pool.  Although my understanding of the chapter had big gaps, I was able to make a reasonable presentation and ask lots of questions as part of my talk.  Despite having to catch up my knowledge, I ended up enjoying the class, and a seed was planted. I was inspired to focus on African American literature for my entire graduate school journey.

If you are feeling out of your depth, take heart.  Things take time. I just had a chat with a student who was marvelling at how his capacity for reading academic writing has grown over the past three years. Material that he found obscure and dense at the beginning of his program, he now breezes through with high comprehension.  But building facility in his disciplinary discourse wasn’t accomplished quickly.  We don’t punish children for not learning how to swim quickly; rather, we put water wings on their arms and give them time to get comfortable in the shallow end. So don’t chide yourself for taking the time you need to learn to swim in the sea of knowledge. Things take time.

If you need support in academic communication, including reading to write, writing, presentations, academic integrity, or academic expectations, please see us at the Centre for Academic Communication (CAC).  We get it—we’ve been there.

You can drop by our offices in the McPherson Library at the end of the Learning Commons or make an appointment online:

https://uvic.mywconline.com


Madeline is the Coordinator for the CAC. She has a PhD in English (20C American Literature). She loves to write and to coach other writers.