the new bio, overanalyzed (Pt. 2)

Okay, so I wanted to follow up a little on what I blogged the other day about updating (lengthening!) my blog bio.

I said in the bio that I used to teach literature, film and writing. This may seem to some of you like a fairly innocuous detail, but trust me--it speaks volumes about my inner life, my weaknesses, my journey of personhood.

The same day I expanded the bio, I also happened to respond to a post on the Happy (Atheist) Homemaker blog, in which the author had explained the "Atheist" in her blog title. I'll share here some of what I commented there:

. . . Please do not change your blog title, unless you want to. People (and blogs) are made up of all kinds of lovely combinations, and yours is a refreshing one, at least for me. It reminds me of a delightful sign I saw on campus back when I was teaching at the U of CO Denver: Feminist Bake Sale.

I, being just a wee bit older than you (a-HEM), grew up hearing the "women can have it all" super-woman message of the 80's--as long as "it all" meant a full-time job and kids in daycare. Home-making was not considered something valuable. You only did it if you had no other options. So after my first daughter was born, and I realized I was a terrible mom because of having to put her second to my work, I had to kiss my academic career goodbye. I still taught online for several more years, part-time, but that was little consolation--for me to step out of the esteemed role I had been in to be a full-time mom was actually a hard blow for my pride and my self-esteem. So I started homemaking kinda late (as in after being married for 7 years and having 2 kids!!!!) and with battered spirits. Even now, after 4 kids, I am still exploring what homemaking can look like and all the possibilities and continuing to learn to recognize the value in it.

After I stopped teaching for the U of CO, I went through a serious crisis of self--I had not realized how much of my self-identity was wrapped up in my job as an online film instructor. (I mean, what is cooler than that?!*) So after I worked through those issues and started reconciling myself to being just a mommy and wife and home-maker--as if those are not enough! or not more worthwhile than being a pretentious academic!--I purposefully stopped telling anyone what I did in my "past life." What was the point? I was not that anymore, and there was no sense trying to stir up some self worth (or self-pity) from weak nostalgia.

But I have grown a lot since that crisis, and--years later--no longer feel discontented with who I am in the life I have. In fact, I recognize pretty much daily how fortunate I am, and never once wish I had chosen differently. What I do now is much, much harder than the rigors of higher education; home schooling is just another facet of being a mom, and all the ways I teach my kids take so much more patience, time management, creativity, enthusiasm, and genuine dedication to the long-term welfare of the students. And of course what I do now is so much more rewarding and important in the grand scheme of things. The impact I make here at home with my own children will have a much broader ripple effect than whatever I may have done for a random student years ago.

So when I had the first fleeting thought of adding my past teaching experience to the revised bio, my mental reflex was scoffing--c'mon, am I still so vain? Do I really need perfect strangers to be impressed with my past, when it has nothing to do with who I am now? But then I stopped and actually thought about it, what those words meant to me now. And realized I truly had no secret desires prompting the addition. I am truly content with being just a mom--a stay-at-home, home-schooling mom at that. That demon of nagging self-worth is no longer hanging over me--I am truly at home in my skin. Amen!

With that newfound freedom, I went ahead and put in that info. I thought it might be helpful to mention my past in education: first, because it gives people some reassurance that I have some higher education and "real" teaching experience under my belt and might not be completely deluded about my homeschooling abilities; second, because those fields of study say a lot about my intellectual bent and my pleasures. Namely loafing around with good books and good movies (and good chocolate).

And let's face it--I feel (and look) intelligent so little these days, it is good to remind myself that if I once wrote well-received papers by such titles as "Bloody Brides: Symbolism and Misogyny in Bram Stoker’s Dracula" and "Issues of Humanity in Tech Noir" and "Unlikely Christ: Grace and Otherness in The Crying Game and Dead Man Walking"** then there is still hope for my currently baby-addled brain. All those previously worked-up brain cells must still be up there, poised and ready for the day when I have use to flaunt them again, right?

So, there you have it--confessions of former sin of self-hood dragged to the light of day by a few words stuck into the bio of a blog.

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One time a loooooong time ago, I was talking long-distance with my parents and was bemoaning that I did not have any particular talent. You know, how some people can sing beautifully, or dance amazingly, or write with perfectly balanced language and cadence and humor. I really have always been more of a jill-of-all-trades and can do almost anything with some success--but nothing wonderfully well. (I am also really lazy and not highly motivated, but that is beside the point.) And my Dad, bless him, thought and then said something to the effect of, "You think well." I am sure I murmured something modest, but inwardly I was estatic--my Dad thinks I am a good thinker!

Then a few years later, we were again talking long-distance, and we were discussing childrens' books, and specifically how disturbed I was by a preschool age book we had been given called "The Rainbow Fish," because of its subtle underlying message of a girl having to give away her body to gain friends (Oh yeah--that, and Babar, and Curious George--don't EVEN get me started!).

And my Dad, darn him, thought and then said, "You think too much."

Yep, Dad, you've said it all.



*Ok, maybe D's job at the time--War Gaming. Yes, like in the movie. He even got to be there for a joint venture with the Russians one time, and after the week of simulated mass destruction they all went out for beers at Old Chicago. I think when he stopped working on that project he went through a little cool-job withdrawl too.

**Just reading those titles makes me smile. Yeah, I took myself pretty seriously then, as you can see--getta load of those colons! Now I'm addicted to the dash--the lazy writer's colon. That alone says so much ; )