E. and I were walking beside the St. Jacob's Railway tracks after attending our duties as long term Teaching Assistants for an Organizational Behaviour course. We were both PhD students in the Faculty of Engineering, Department of Management Sciences at the University of Waterloo. I was walking towards my car to go home and he was walking towards the married students residences that were a very short distance from the campus. The very same residences that I had lived in as a newlywed, earlier in my career as a graduate student.
My husband and I had moved out of these married student quarters just before finishing my master's degree. I had applied for funding to do a doctorate and we were uncertain as to whether we would be able to stay in the residence and besides which we were ready for a non-student dwelling after many years of living the student life.
As it turns out, I did get funding for that doctoral research. I also started teaching sessionally at Wilfred Laurier University. So, a mere year after moving into our first 'real' apartment, my husband and I were able to purchase our first home in Waterloo knowing that we would be having a baby and I would be finishing up graduate work and this would take a few years.
But as the saying goes, the best laid plans....
By the time E. and I were walking alongside those tracks I had had my baby and my husband had left. I was basically an emotional and intellectual trainwreck yet I clung desperately to the original plan. This particular afternoon walk took place within a year of my husband leaving and I was suffering also from great shame.
E. and I had worked together for a number of school terms by this point. He was a mature married student from Thailand and our department had many social gatherings embracing the myriad of international students so we were on good casual terms with each other. In fact, we may have both served on our student council team. We were both outgoing and involved.
I think this walk was the first time I was alone with him subsequent to my baby and then marriage fiasco. I have noted the casual and friendly nature of our relationship yet he felt it necessary to ask me this: "Do you think that the fact that you chose to have a baby during your doctoral research might have been the reason your husband left you?"
You know what? 16 years later and I'm still gobsmacked by the question and the emotional rollercoaster it sets off in me. Researchers look for tidy answers to explain the lack of female representation in STEM. This story is one of my contributions (yes, there are more) to the not so tidy answers I suspect litter the STEM landscape for women.
Daughter says the above to me this morning after I stated the bleeding obvious about something (before having my coffee, to be fair).
Daughter leaves for school and I am thrown back 25 years to a conversation I had with a university friend.
During my last couple of years at university I had the good fortune to obtain a part-time on-campus job that had some awesome side benefits. One of which was being able to do my homework or knit on the job - I was giving out change for the arcade machines in what was called the games room and unlocking the ping pong room on an as needed basis.
This job also allowed me to befriend a few of the people who staffed the 24 hour student life centre. This centre provided a myriad of services including the cheapest and most delicious coffee on campus. These friends and I would often hang out in the new smoking room which was added midway during my undergraduate days - before that you could smoke anywhere in the building (think wide open space with many couches/comfy chairs and tables...then think hazy smoke settling over it during late night study sessions).
Me and this new friend, S., had developed a friendship that had gotten to the point of comfortable familiarity...we were on the level of personal joking but not many confidences had yet been shared. I had actually been aware of S. during nearly my whole time at university since she was quite distinctive in appearance and worked at the student life centre so was in a high profile position for most students that frequented the centre.
One day S. and I were alone in the smoking room. The smoking room in itself had become like a private members club. All of us that were regular users were very friendly with each other and any new face was greeted warmly and tentative welcoming chit chat was proferred.
S. announced that she had something to share with me. I was puzzled momentarily but then I knew what she was about to say. I was uncomfortable. I didn't want her to announce her 'news'. Part of me was uncomfortable because I had had a similar announcement given to me in very different circumstances a couple of years prior and it basically ended that friendship. I didn't want my friendship to end with S. and I thought that by her making this announcement that there could only be that kind of outcome...an ending.
S. took a deep breath and proceeded to tell me, with some fits and starts, that she was a lesbian. The thing is, this information was no surprise to me or to anyone else that knew her. Even in the late 80s some of us were hip to this kind of thing and dear S. was, well, quite butch. In an era of big hair and neon colours, S. dressed in mens tshirts, boys jeans, and kept her hair cropped very very short. After her 'announcement' I waited for what I thought was coming next - which my only previous experience of someone coming out had led me to expect. It didn't happen. She didn't say "I'm a lesbian and I'm attracted to you, what do you say?" In my relief at the lack of this addendum I said something I probably shouldn't have. I don't think I said "No sh*t sherlock." but it was something just as trite and didn't acknowledge the deeply personal nature of what she had entrusted me with. I will never forget how hurt she looked when I said that I had suspected this was the case. At the time I was perplexed that she was so unaware of how others perceived her strongly 'butch' nature. Now with my middle-aged hindsight I wish I could go back and just hug her for the difficult road she was on in a completely homophobic 1980s world.
Our friendship continued into the next couple of years and I even had dinner with her and her girlfriend a few times at their apartment. Interestingly enough, hers was the second last 'announcement' of homosexuality I was to receive in my life. The last was my sister and with her I know I said something similar. After a lifetime of knowing someone as close as a sibling you should not be surprised by this kind of information. If you are then you might not be paying enough attention. And like my experience with S., I wish I could go back and just hug my sister instead of treating it so glibly.
In a country that now legally acknowledges the equality of people with any sexual orientation I can recognize the heroic acts of my two university friends and my sister: they were pioneers willing to come out amidst challenges I can only surmise.
If I apply these notions to this blog then I should be habitually posting in this blog by about November 5, 2011. Unfortunately I won't master it until on or around September 19, 2066 (at which point I will be 99 years old and hopefully using voice recognition software or brain implants to prepare my Modern Times blog podcasts/writings/shout outs to other life forms in the universe).
I have a daughter that is in her final year of high school this year so our talk is often of plans for next year. Last night at dinner I shared with her how it took me approximately 3 years of my undergraduate degree to figure out that a specific routine worked best for my university GPA (and graduate school prospects). The routine was simple and I managed to keep it up. This resulted in my average being raised considerably and I was able to apply to graduate school a couple of years after my undergrad knowing that they wouldn't jettison my application directly into the rubbish bin.
The routine was this: Schedule (earlyish) morning classes for most of the week. In my second last term (when I established the routine) I distinctly remember having Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes at 8:30 and then I believe I had 10:30 classes on Tuesday and Thursday. The other secret to this routine was to actually attend these classes - which I did. It was really difficult for me to do this at first but after a few weeks it was a breeze.
Today, as I looked at my blank blogger page I let my mind wander as to what on earth I could possibly write about. I felt completely uninspired and started thinking that maybe today I didn't need to write. The next thoughts became about why I started this venture. And that led directly to my discussions with my daughter last night.
Sometimes routine can be quite ordinary. But on the way to mastery it is essential. Even if mastery might be just a pipe dream :)
