I'm chopping down the apple tree in my front yard this weekend. It's become overwhelmed by Fire Blight, despite the fact that I've treated the tree and tried to stave off the its slow decline for about a decade now. I finally lost hope that it can be cured. Even though almost every year this tree produces a bumper crop of apples, this year they all ended up rotten and diseased before harvest time.
I guess you could say the same thing has happened to my personal hopes over the years since I last posted on this blog. I am still discouraged about why or how I might have done things differently in order to remedy the ailments that have struck my life over the last few years and have spoiled the goals I had hoped would come to fruition. After all, I worked really hard when I went back to get a second B.A. in English Education. I graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I spent endless hours writing English papers and then planning, writing, preparing, and executing lesson plans. Student teaching was nothing short of stressful itself, but I learned a great deal about teaching and myself with that crazy experience, and I reflected on how and what I might do better. I was hopeful that there would be "many apples in my orchard." But that didn't come to pass.
Six years after I graduated and became certified to teach, I still have not been able to find a permanent teaching position.
There are many reasons why that happened. First, I got certified in early 2010, just in time for the economy to be the worst it had been since the Great Depression. Recently hired teachers were laid-off in droves, and those who kept their jobs were furloughed and had salaries slashed. Second, I am certified to teach Language Arts and Literature. When I entered my teaching program in 2007, the field of English was considered a "High Priority Teacher Shortage" in my state. However, that quickly changed after the recession. Today more than ever, English and Humanities fields have become marginalized areas because of the frantic urgency of pushing the STEM curriculum (science, technology, engineering, mathematics). English classes are, of course, still required for high-school student across four years, but it's not a "critical needs" area like Physics or Mathematics. I didn't even bother to apply for jobs directly after graduating because I knew I probably had a less than five percent chance of finding a position ("five percent" is a random figure—the chances were likely even lower than that in my area). Finally, I also encountered some significant personal challenges and disappointments shortly after graduation, including family concerns and family health issues.
My solution was to continue on to graduate school. The rationale was that while I waited for the economy and job prospects to rebound, I would go ahead and get my Master's degree—but not in Education. At the time, my university's M.Ed program required students to be current teachers anyway, but to be honest, I felt the Education program was weak. Thus I ambitiously enrolled in not one but two graduate programs: Professional Writing and American Studies. Without getting into all the gory details in this particular post (I'll save some of that maybe for future posts), it suffices to say that many things did not go as planned as I moved forward, and they continued to get worse over the next few years. I couldn't have made-up a sequence of events more disheartening that what followed in reality. Most of the things that transpired were out of my control, despite the fact I tried to control them. What happened could be described using a quote from Star Wars: Episode IV. Princess Leia says to General Tarkin: "The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers," except' "star systems" weren't slipping through my fingers. What was slipping through my fingers was a galaxy of other little things that slowly overwhelmed me: students loans, car problems, house problems, money issues, and my son (that too is a story for another time.) Then, finally, the worst thing struck: I could no longer write. Writing was something I had loved to do and prided myself on doing well, but it suddenly seemed to abandon me. And with that, my confidence evaporated. You might say that it was as if I felt there were suddenly no more "Apples in the Orchard." That orchard that once had so much potential for producing great yields slowly withered away, and it took all my energy and hope with it. I floundered and lost my way in a very dark forest instead.
I still haven't completed either Master's degree, although I'm projected to finally finish my M.A. in American Studies this Spring semester. My inability to write really did a number on my being able to write a thesis paper, even though my head was bursting with ideas. But most disconcertingly, I still haven't found anyplace that feels like I belong, and I'm not getting any younger, either.
Some days I can pick my way through the spoiled fruit that litters the ground around me; other days I look around and all I see is rotten and barren terrain.
So, back to that apple tree in my yard.
In it's demise, I see something more symbolic in that for my life, too. Something lost, something very sad, certainly, but maybe there is a deeper meaning here. I want to think there is something greater in its demise, and maybe I can figure it out fairly soon. Maybe there big obstacles in my own life I need to cut down. Maybe it's time to take a slice out of a different apple. Or maybe it represents a need to make a clean break from something else altogether. I don't know. But I'm going to chew on that for a while and see what grows.
I guess you could say the same thing has happened to my personal hopes over the years since I last posted on this blog. I am still discouraged about why or how I might have done things differently in order to remedy the ailments that have struck my life over the last few years and have spoiled the goals I had hoped would come to fruition. After all, I worked really hard when I went back to get a second B.A. in English Education. I graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I spent endless hours writing English papers and then planning, writing, preparing, and executing lesson plans. Student teaching was nothing short of stressful itself, but I learned a great deal about teaching and myself with that crazy experience, and I reflected on how and what I might do better. I was hopeful that there would be "many apples in my orchard." But that didn't come to pass.
Six years after I graduated and became certified to teach, I still have not been able to find a permanent teaching position.
There are many reasons why that happened. First, I got certified in early 2010, just in time for the economy to be the worst it had been since the Great Depression. Recently hired teachers were laid-off in droves, and those who kept their jobs were furloughed and had salaries slashed. Second, I am certified to teach Language Arts and Literature. When I entered my teaching program in 2007, the field of English was considered a "High Priority Teacher Shortage" in my state. However, that quickly changed after the recession. Today more than ever, English and Humanities fields have become marginalized areas because of the frantic urgency of pushing the STEM curriculum (science, technology, engineering, mathematics). English classes are, of course, still required for high-school student across four years, but it's not a "critical needs" area like Physics or Mathematics. I didn't even bother to apply for jobs directly after graduating because I knew I probably had a less than five percent chance of finding a position ("five percent" is a random figure—the chances were likely even lower than that in my area). Finally, I also encountered some significant personal challenges and disappointments shortly after graduation, including family concerns and family health issues.
My solution was to continue on to graduate school. The rationale was that while I waited for the economy and job prospects to rebound, I would go ahead and get my Master's degree—but not in Education. At the time, my university's M.Ed program required students to be current teachers anyway, but to be honest, I felt the Education program was weak. Thus I ambitiously enrolled in not one but two graduate programs: Professional Writing and American Studies. Without getting into all the gory details in this particular post (I'll save some of that maybe for future posts), it suffices to say that many things did not go as planned as I moved forward, and they continued to get worse over the next few years. I couldn't have made-up a sequence of events more disheartening that what followed in reality. Most of the things that transpired were out of my control, despite the fact I tried to control them. What happened could be described using a quote from Star Wars: Episode IV. Princess Leia says to General Tarkin: "The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers," except' "star systems" weren't slipping through my fingers. What was slipping through my fingers was a galaxy of other little things that slowly overwhelmed me: students loans, car problems, house problems, money issues, and my son (that too is a story for another time.) Then, finally, the worst thing struck: I could no longer write. Writing was something I had loved to do and prided myself on doing well, but it suddenly seemed to abandon me. And with that, my confidence evaporated. You might say that it was as if I felt there were suddenly no more "Apples in the Orchard." That orchard that once had so much potential for producing great yields slowly withered away, and it took all my energy and hope with it. I floundered and lost my way in a very dark forest instead.
I still haven't completed either Master's degree, although I'm projected to finally finish my M.A. in American Studies this Spring semester. My inability to write really did a number on my being able to write a thesis paper, even though my head was bursting with ideas. But most disconcertingly, I still haven't found anyplace that feels like I belong, and I'm not getting any younger, either.
Some days I can pick my way through the spoiled fruit that litters the ground around me; other days I look around and all I see is rotten and barren terrain.
So, back to that apple tree in my yard.
In it's demise, I see something more symbolic in that for my life, too. Something lost, something very sad, certainly, but maybe there is a deeper meaning here. I want to think there is something greater in its demise, and maybe I can figure it out fairly soon. Maybe there big obstacles in my own life I need to cut down. Maybe it's time to take a slice out of a different apple. Or maybe it represents a need to make a clean break from something else altogether. I don't know. But I'm going to chew on that for a while and see what grows.
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