Women and Social Movements: Research Question

August 2, 2008 at 8:47 am (asking the right questions, awareness, college, history, nontraditional students)
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I’m gearing up for a class on Women and Social Movements of the 20th Century U.S., and stressing over how little I have paid attention to women as a mass entity and Social Movements in general.

Friends have pointed out to me that I happen to be a woman, myself, (I knew that, btw,) and therefore ought to be well aware of this topic, but that’s completely my point.  I take people one at a time and don’t actually believe there is an entity of Women as a solid front, a single organized force or character.  There are too many variations on the theme, and simple genetics isn’t enough to create unity.  I fight enough with my brothers to know that.

I’m not even certain what the difference is between a Social Movement and a fad or fashion trend, in some ways.  Is a Social Movement necessarily a cause toward some ideal?  I’d welcome thoughts on what the definition might be.

I’ve always been geared toward taking people one at a time and rolling my eyes in impatience when I see generalizations — that “we” in statements like “We love our hamburgers in the US!” is particularly annoying, since I live in the US, but I don’t even like hamburgers, much less love them.  And statements like “We are fascinated with [celebrity]” actually anger me, since I’m again clumped in by default even though I have no idea who they’re talking (or writing) about most of the time.

This all must change for the next four months or so: I must embrace the collective and pretend that Women behave en masse like some sort of Hive mind (Ender reference) and then study this chimera.

So, here’s a research stab:  How many of you have a take on women and the Internet as a social medium rather than an information resource?  Do you find you encounter more (apparent) women in discussion boards, or social sites, or blog sites?  Any thoughts on that?

I am slowly awakening to the fact that I have made a lot more women friends through the internet than I ever did in the Real World.

And, is blogging a Social Movement?

7 Comments

Windmill Down!

June 5, 2008 at 9:33 pm (asking the right questions, college, history, history degree, nontraditional students, retreads)
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I am not a superstitious person, but I believe that there are ways to listen to any message that arrives, by any means.  I read fortune cookie notes, I listen if someone wants to read my horoscope aloud, and I will even glance over the subject lines of the messages in my bulk and junk mail folders before I delete them all.  Life sends reminders and chaos has its purpose in the Cosmic Scheme of Things.  Thus, when a friend offered to do a completely unofficial Tarot Card reading for me, I was game for the experience.  I have had poor luck with such things all my life, but I also steer by other stars; this was for fun.

I asked about my chances for success in my current educational endeavors: currently working on the last two classes needed for my BA in U.S. History.  The cards essentially came back with “Rotsa ruck!” and the clear indication that signs did not point to success.  While not encouraging, and while it wasn’t the message my friend would have chosen to give me, there was still plenty of room for interpretation.  I chose to consider the message of the cards as a challenge to my creativity, and I took a second look at my methods to date.  What was I doing, and what else could I do?

Emails weren’t working as a method of contact with the local university, but I work near the campus, so I tried the direct approach.  A quick visit to their Information Booth equipped me with a map and a few words of directional advice; from there I parked my car in a visitors’ lot and started hiking.  In the course of the afternoon, I visited the History department, the Registrar’s office, and the Admissions office.

The biggest problem I faced was the competition for seats in a class.  Courses at the 400-level are offered to upperclassmen – kids who have been in the school system, chosen their majors, and know what they must do to complete their studies.  The largest classes offered at the 400 level accept only 15 students, and others accept ten or only five students.  As such, long before the Spring semester has ended, students have already raced to lock in their seats for Fall – every one of the classes I asked about had been filled and closed.

However, the kindly Secretary of the History Department explained the rules: the professors have the final say on their classes.  What I needed to do was write to the professor who would be teaching the course I wanted to take, explaining who I am, why I need the course, and asking permission to be a student in that course.  Once I had a note from the professor accepting me, I was in, and it was a simple matter of printing off the emailed acceptance and bringing that, along with my “non-matriculated student” application form, to the Admissions office.  I have both papers in-hand now, and am ready to find out how much I will have to pay for the privilege.

Coming up this Fall:  Women & Social Movements in 20th Century U.S.

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Windmills and Hoops

June 3, 2008 at 7:01 pm (asking the right questions, college, history, history degree, nontraditional students, retreads)
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One of the best writers I have the privilege to call friend — John O. — recently reminded me of the comedian Bob Newhart. Newhart had an album out, years ago, entitled The Windmills Are Weakening. I remember falling in love with that title as soon as I heard the story of Don Quixote, and the gentle hopefulness of Newhart’s assertion has always been a presence in the back of my mind as I stumble through each day.

Last year, another good friend — a Canadian with vast experience in the educational milieu –- told me that pursuit of my Bachelor of Arts degree was very much dependent upon how well I learned to jump through hoops, in the metaphorical sense. I needed to learn how things were done and negotiate the labyrinthine process just as much as I needed to actually learn the course content once I finally got into the classroom.

All of this keeps me sane as I chase down my final two college courses.

Hoop 1: My “Home” College. With regard to requirements, the college where I am matriculated handed down some clear-cut rules: I need to take a course equivalent to their Seminar. They gave me easy terms, though — a weakened windmill moment: any class offered at the local University, at the 400 level, will suffice, although I would be wise to make certain they approve my choice before I hand over any cash. I must also take one more 3-credit course – any course at all – to achieve the correct number of total college credits earned. I’ll take that course from the local Community College.

Hoop 2, parts A and B: The Local University. Thanks to a dear friend who works there, I have – after months of fruitless inquiries – made contact with the Admissions Office and the Secretary of the History Department — two windmills still standing firm

A) Admissions tells me I need to enroll as a ‘non-matric’ so as to create a presence in their computer system (which probably translates as items on the final bill) which will then enable me to sign up for my desired class this Fall.

B) The History secretary told me I needed to send an email to the professor teaching the course I wish to take. I sent him this message:

“I just completed a 300-level course at [Name Withheld] College (Modern Latin American History) but all the rest of my History courses were taken at [Distant College] in 1981 or earlier. I still believe I can complete your course this fall, having been alive during the intervening years and thus inescapably exposed to the content we would study.”

I will be on the University Campus tomorrow afternoon and should have at least one of these matters resolved by the end of the day.

Hoop 3: The Local Community College. The last course will probably be another online class. I took my Biology class this way last year, and it went pretty well – there were clearly-defined expectations that were easily met, so long as I kept myself organized, and it’s not only far less money per credit hour, there is no gas money spent getting to class.

I’m within reach of the goal, and I’m keeping a positive attitude toward the whole venture. The worst I can do is spend my entire economic stimulus check and still need to take another course. There are worse fates, by far.

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Old Dogs, New Tricks?

January 29, 2008 at 2:59 am (asking the right questions, friends)
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I work in the library milieu.  The statement still conjures the stereotypical imagery: large rooms, countless books, narrow aisles between the shelves, the soft sounds of turning pages, and the stern warning glares from the bespectacled matron at the huge wooden desk.  Enter, if you dare.

Oh, how welcoming!  And we wonder why it’s so hard to encourage visitors to our dusty halls, do we?  Perhaps we have Hollywood and television to thank for this throwback image; Nic Cage did his best, but it’s Marian the Librarian who leaps to mind when the subject of librarians and/or libraries comes up.

The reality is always so different, but to make this discovery bridges must be built between libraries and schools, between libraries and businesses, between libraries and communities, and — most importantly these days — between libraries and the virtual world.

We’ve been here right along, thanks to online catalogs and databases, but these are passive presences.  We put them up and leave them to be found, explored, used, and forgotten, with the mistaken assumption that a few pretty colors or clever arrangements of words will suffice.  Even adding new and marvelous portals from our sites to other databases of vast knowledge and resources quietly awaits discovery rather than announcing itself.   We’re just too used to being quiet in the library!

So, the new trick is to find a voice, here in the virtually silent virtual reality.  Enter the world, learn the language, and find our new way into the old job of providing information.  Some trick.

17 Comments

Gaheris Stories

November 24, 2007 at 4:53 pm (asking the right questions, country living, gaheris, galahad and gaheris stories, humor, memories, rural pennsylvania)
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Possibly my favorite stories of Gaheris were the ones he’d tell us just after they’d happened, when he, too, was still marveling at how they unfolded. A native New Yorker, Gaheris had moved to Pennsylvania because it was what his little family could afford. He and his hard-working wife were both college graduates, but in our part of New York that didn’t help much — education alone couldn’t guarantee a job; there just weren’t that many jobs available.

Gaheris and his family lived right on a main road: up in New York it was Route 26; as soon as it crossed the state line it became PA Route 267 and kept on going, south and then west as the bug crawls. They rented a big old farmhouse with several adjacent acres and a huge barn, and there were no neighbors for miles and miles in any direction.

Each day Gaheris spent outdoors, working on building green houses, mowing the lawn, or tending the family garden, he’d often be the only person passing cars would see — and thus the person they would stop to talk to.

There was the day a man pulled up in a huge shiny truck and called Gaheris over.

“We’ve been contracted to start work on a hunting cabin on that acreage that just sold, up on the hillside above you.”

“Yep. Heard about that.”

“Yes. Well, the way we see it, we’ve only got one option, and that’s to build a temporary road that will cut right through the property alongside the row of trees there, and we’ll have the trucks bring the materials we need up that way.”

“I can see where that’d work.”

“Yes. Well. If that’s not a problem, we’ll get that underway so we can get the job done. Thank you very much!” And the construction foreman clambered back into his truck to leave.

“Y’know…”

“Yes?”

“It’s a good idea and all, but you might want to actually ask the property owner. Past the trees? That’s not my land.”

It was the assumptions that would get Gaheris guffawing, over and over again, although he was not innocent in the confusion.

The southbound folks who pulled up to his house one afternoon, for example, and called him over, may have had stories to tell about Pennsylvanians that weren’t entirely untrue.

“Excuse me! Howdy!”

“Howdy.”

“This road we’re on now, this is 267, right?”

“Yep.”

“This road’ll get us to Vestal Center, New York?”

“Yep.”

“Thank you very much!” and, thus reassured, the driver began to roll up his window and continue down the road.

Gaheris had walked all the way back to his driveway before he suddenly appeared to have a thought, and turned back to the driver. “You might want to turn around, though,” he suggested helpfully. “See, this road’ll get you there, but you’ll have to drive all the way around the world to do it. Turn around, though, and it’ll take you about 20 minutes.”

4 Comments