Science Olympiad came back and tried to roost above my door, like a raven.
And I realized the problem with a 'Just say "no"' campaign. Nobody wants to take "No" for an answer. And so they keep coming back with 'But what about...' and 'What if we...' and 'Why can't you...'
D. C. School District might run it. If I can give them all my contacts, and all our homemade software to make it easier, and all our checklists, so they know how to do it...
And Mr. X from Math wants to do it, if I can supply him with funding, oh, and staff support...
And then I put Mr. X and D. C. S.D. together. And they will do it, if I can pay for them to rent the University facilities. Oh, and provide help with staff. And all my contacts. And all my homegrown software, and all our checklists. And organize the people.
So...
That would be a big fat 'What part of 'No' don't you understand?'
No.
If any of you people want to just take it on and run with it, I will give you every piece of paper I have. But I have no funding. And I have no staff. And I am not available to help with this.
No.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Yes.
Now, available on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Understanding-Our-Universe-Stacy-Palen/dp/0393912108/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320019549&sr=8-1
I will hold copies in my hand tomorrow (depending, of course, on the vagaries of our budget-challenged University mail, in which "FedEx" means "some time, when we get around to it...").
Still, yes, yes, yes. I am so proud of what we've made in this book. It's completely different from anything else out there, and I had so much fun thinking of new ways to engage students in the subject.
So yes.
And "yes", too to the fourth edition of 21st Century Astronomy. Because I have so much to learn about working with this group of people on this massive project. And I kind of did it backwards, by being a first author first. So now I am learning to follow, and let someone else lead. It feels like when we took salsa lessons, and I had...to...let...John...lead...arg. It's so hard for me. And such an important lesson!
Yes, to writing books. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
http://www.amazon.com/Understanding-Our-Universe-Stacy-Palen/dp/0393912108/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320019549&sr=8-1
I will hold copies in my hand tomorrow (depending, of course, on the vagaries of our budget-challenged University mail, in which "FedEx" means "some time, when we get around to it...").
Still, yes, yes, yes. I am so proud of what we've made in this book. It's completely different from anything else out there, and I had so much fun thinking of new ways to engage students in the subject.
So yes.
And "yes", too to the fourth edition of 21st Century Astronomy. Because I have so much to learn about working with this group of people on this massive project. And I kind of did it backwards, by being a first author first. So now I am learning to follow, and let someone else lead. It feels like when we took salsa lessons, and I had...to...let...John...lead...arg. It's so hard for me. And such an important lesson!
Yes, to writing books. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
No.
We have a golden eagle. A dead one. (It's stuffed, and in our Museum, just so you know...)
In this country, in order to have an eagle, even a dead one, or a part of one (what?!), you need to file paperwork every year that tells where you got it, and how you used it, and how many people saw it or otherwise benefited from your possession of a National Treasure. It's not a huge deal. It takes maybe a couple of hours a year. But you have to remember to do it. And then you have to actually...well...do it.
Unless you are me. And then you think, 'This sounds like a job for... The Zoology Department!' who are already dealing with the Department of Fish and Wildlife anyway. And they love dead, stuffed things. And you call them up, and say, 'Hey, do yous guys want to be responsible for this big, dead eagle?'. And they say, 'Heck yes we do!'
And then you have an empty space in your head, where keeping track of the eagle used to be.
No.
In this country, in order to have an eagle, even a dead one, or a part of one (what?!), you need to file paperwork every year that tells where you got it, and how you used it, and how many people saw it or otherwise benefited from your possession of a National Treasure. It's not a huge deal. It takes maybe a couple of hours a year. But you have to remember to do it. And then you have to actually...well...do it.
Unless you are me. And then you think, 'This sounds like a job for... The Zoology Department!' who are already dealing with the Department of Fish and Wildlife anyway. And they love dead, stuffed things. And you call them up, and say, 'Hey, do yous guys want to be responsible for this big, dead eagle?'. And they say, 'Heck yes we do!'
And then you have an empty space in your head, where keeping track of the eagle used to be.
No.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
No.
An outreach person from Hill Air Force Base called me today. She wants to work with me as the go-between on some things related to Science Fair, instead of working with the person actually in charge. HAFB has scholarships for kids. They want to set up a recruitment table. Fran wants me to work with them to make opportunities for young people who are interested in science. She insists that i'm so easy to work with. I gave her the phone number of the person in charge, and said "No.". A complete sentence.
I'm sure the kiddies will get their scholarships without my direct input.
So that's Science Fair: off my list.
No.
I'm sure the kiddies will get their scholarships without my direct input.
So that's Science Fair: off my list.
No.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Yes.
Sometimes, if you are lucky, someone is watching you carefully. They see what you need before you do, and deliver a dream you didn't even know you had.
John has been after me for months to keep my birthday weekend free. Our University has "Fall Break"---a random Friday that almost always falls in the week of my birthday. Purely selfishly, I cancelled my Thursday class, and took off when classes were over on Wednesday. That afternoon, we went to Golden Spike for a ride in the sunshine, we had a lovely dinner, and I received fun and thoughtful presents from John and Jo, including games to play the rest of the weekend.
So Thursday was a quiet day. We did lots of little projects (I finally finished the solar hot water heater for the wash stall, for example...), played games, and generally puttered around.
Friday morning at 11:30, Jo had a lesson. John was all fired up about cleaning out the garage, and left to take the recycling to the transfer station around 10:00 or so. At eleven-ish, he sent me a text to let me know he was stopping at Home Depot. At that point, I was pondering doing some work on my closet shelves over the weekend, so I asked him to get me some paint. I wandered out to the barn for Jo's lesson, and we got started in the arena.
About halfway through, I saw John come through the barn with a dark-haired woman. I thought, 'That looks like Colleen. Sigh. I miss Colleen.' but mostly, I was still working on explaining something to Jo. But then John and the dark-haired woman were at the gate at the end of the arena. I shaded my eyes and stared. "who is that?" I asked. "I've come for my lesson." she said, and it was Colleen!
I took off running for the gate, tears already in my eyes, covering 30 yards in a single breath, and threw my arms around her over the gate! Then I hugged John, and then Colleen again. Then I looked back at Jo, who waved me out the gate, and I was just beside myself. I couldn't really process the fact that Colleen was here! On my farm! And I had so much to show her and so much to talk about, and she was actually here! I couldn't stop staring at this fantastic person who means so much to me that I can't even really articulate it. I grabbed her hand and dragged her all around the farm, like I was a little kid---showing her everything as fast as I could, and just giving her spontaneous hugs, because I was just so happy to see her.
She stayed for 48 hours, and we got to ride together again, which we haven't done in years, and that meant I got to give her a little gift back. My lovely, beautiful, safe mare, in our flawless arena, with that spectacular view... Giving her back a little of what she's had to set aside in recent times. David (her three year old son) came with her, and we played with him, and talked and talked and talked. About our jobs, and friends and futures and David and Danni and John and Toby and dogs and goats and just everything under the sun. A little about old times in Seattle, when we went eventing together every summer, sharing a tent, getting up at dawn to walk the cross-country course together in the knee-high grass, drinking beers with th guys after cross country, when the adrenaline high had wound down to reasonable levels, sharing barn chores and dissecting our runs in the truck on the way home. Best times...
I feel like I've been wrapped in swaddling clothes. Like I'm tucked in under the covers with a fire going and a storm outside. Like hot chocolate and warm mittens and a blanket around my shoulders at the Christmas parade. Cherished and comforted and wrapped in love and warmth and the glow of candles and being read my favorite story. And so grateful to John and Colleen, for the best birthday present ever.
John has been after me for months to keep my birthday weekend free. Our University has "Fall Break"---a random Friday that almost always falls in the week of my birthday. Purely selfishly, I cancelled my Thursday class, and took off when classes were over on Wednesday. That afternoon, we went to Golden Spike for a ride in the sunshine, we had a lovely dinner, and I received fun and thoughtful presents from John and Jo, including games to play the rest of the weekend.
So Thursday was a quiet day. We did lots of little projects (I finally finished the solar hot water heater for the wash stall, for example...), played games, and generally puttered around.
Friday morning at 11:30, Jo had a lesson. John was all fired up about cleaning out the garage, and left to take the recycling to the transfer station around 10:00 or so. At eleven-ish, he sent me a text to let me know he was stopping at Home Depot. At that point, I was pondering doing some work on my closet shelves over the weekend, so I asked him to get me some paint. I wandered out to the barn for Jo's lesson, and we got started in the arena.
About halfway through, I saw John come through the barn with a dark-haired woman. I thought, 'That looks like Colleen. Sigh. I miss Colleen.' but mostly, I was still working on explaining something to Jo. But then John and the dark-haired woman were at the gate at the end of the arena. I shaded my eyes and stared. "who is that?" I asked. "I've come for my lesson." she said, and it was Colleen!
I took off running for the gate, tears already in my eyes, covering 30 yards in a single breath, and threw my arms around her over the gate! Then I hugged John, and then Colleen again. Then I looked back at Jo, who waved me out the gate, and I was just beside myself. I couldn't really process the fact that Colleen was here! On my farm! And I had so much to show her and so much to talk about, and she was actually here! I couldn't stop staring at this fantastic person who means so much to me that I can't even really articulate it. I grabbed her hand and dragged her all around the farm, like I was a little kid---showing her everything as fast as I could, and just giving her spontaneous hugs, because I was just so happy to see her.
She stayed for 48 hours, and we got to ride together again, which we haven't done in years, and that meant I got to give her a little gift back. My lovely, beautiful, safe mare, in our flawless arena, with that spectacular view... Giving her back a little of what she's had to set aside in recent times. David (her three year old son) came with her, and we played with him, and talked and talked and talked. About our jobs, and friends and futures and David and Danni and John and Toby and dogs and goats and just everything under the sun. A little about old times in Seattle, when we went eventing together every summer, sharing a tent, getting up at dawn to walk the cross-country course together in the knee-high grass, drinking beers with th guys after cross country, when the adrenaline high had wound down to reasonable levels, sharing barn chores and dissecting our runs in the truck on the way home. Best times...
I feel like I've been wrapped in swaddling clothes. Like I'm tucked in under the covers with a fire going and a storm outside. Like hot chocolate and warm mittens and a blanket around my shoulders at the Christmas parade. Cherished and comforted and wrapped in love and warmth and the glow of candles and being read my favorite story. And so grateful to John and Colleen, for the best birthday present ever.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Wednesdays are hard...
Today was another ordinary day at work.
I got in just after 7:30. Which meant that I left the house a bit past seven. Which meant that I woke at 6, fed the horses and the dogs, opened the coop for the day. Then I made oatmeal, fed the dogs, ate my oatmeal, and realized I was running late. A quick brush of teeth and hair and I was our the door.
Leaving so much behind. Undone.
On the way to work, I found myself crying to these lyrics from Train:
'did you sail across the Sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way
To find the lights all faded
And that Heaven is over-rated?'
And so I had to pull over for a minute until I could take a deep breath.
And then I went on.
I got to work, and got ready for class, planning out which problems I would do, that fit the humorous 'super-hero' theme I'm working on. In the past couple of days, we've been Superman, Spiderman, Bruce Willis in Armageddon, and the X-men. Also search-and-rescue. I checked email, and started to answer one.
Off to class, and for 50 minutes, answered, hinted and directed, with all the intensity that only I am capable of. They laughed, they cried, they made jokes and solved problems.
After class, I was swamped with students, one after the other asking the same three questions, demonstrating that they didn't pay ANY attention to last week's problems worked in class. For an hour and ten minutes, I asked the same questions over and over: 'have written down your variables? Where is your free-body-diagram? What is this letter on your paper? Where is the rest of your work?' and it's hard to remember that they were only 5 out of 86.
Then finding that I had no time to go over my notes, I headed off to class with the speaker for the afternoon seminar. I've known him since I was a post-doc, and he's new faculty at another University. He's come to see me teach, and get some pointers. So I start my lecture, and get to the second page. Where I realize pages are missing. Because I used them in another course last year, and never put them back. And didn't have time to check before class. So now I have to 'wing it', on the explanation of core-collapse supernovae, with photo disintegration, charge destruction and neutron degenerate matter. I'm thrilled when the class side-tracks me on magnetic fields of neutron stars, and this disguises the fact that I was completely unprepared.
Back to my office after class, a line of students waiting to hear me ask them 'Where's your free-body-diagram?'... But it's not office hours, so they just have to wait for me to be done with the visitor. He asks me about teaching for an hour or so, and I give him all my astro 101 materials, so he'll have some kind of help in his new job, and agree to mentor him when he needs it. Then it's time to take the guest to lunch. A student stops me in the hall, just to ask me a 'quick question', that turns into three. Which are all basically about the definition of the words in the problems.
So off we go to the Union Building, where the food ranges in quality from bleh to inedible. But it's what we've got.
Back again after an awkward hour of conversation between this newly minted faculty member and one of our professors (who should be emeritus by now) about the 'lost generation' of scientists, who obediently filled the pipeline, only to find that no one is retiring, and there are no jobs. Some things are bad, and others are worse. The average time a PhD astrophysicist spends in post-docs is now 8 years. EIGHT. On average. So some spend much, much longer than that.
Back to the building, explaining again that LAST year was the last ditch year for Science Olympiad. That it didn't matter anymore if it was good or if we wanted it, but that it couldn't be done. And yes, it was me that made that decision (and, goddamnit, if everyone cared that much about it, where in the hell were all of you when I was lying on the bathroom floor because I couldn't stand up because the stress had shut down my entire digestive system?!). Or maybe i've just been having this discussion so many times that every conversation about Science Olympiad feels like it goes like that...
Off to a poorly attended seminar. An embarrassment, when bringing people in from other places. Especially friends.
And the person who is supposed to shepherd the speaker for the rest of the afternoon is off to lab. So I take him up to show him the planetarium, completely forgetting my regularly scheduled meeting with my staff. And he's duly impressed that our 'little' planetarium has sold shows in 26 states, 17 countries, and they've been translated into 8 languages...
So away he goes, and I check in with my staff, and keep them going on their projects. The Physics Open House is Friday, and there are lots of preparations in train for that. Back to my office to send electronic copies of physics at home experiments, that need to go to the copy center, hopefully to come back before the Open House. It should have happened first thing this morning. And maybe they won't get done in time. But there was nothing I could do about it.
I check the rest of my emails, and my phone messages, which include a long list of people getting in touch with me about the parts of my job that I'm terrible at---accounting, paperwork, interim reports. And co-authors demanding instant responses. And who even knows why OSP left me two messages on my phone and an email asking for a meeting ASAP. I don't know what they want, but it probably means I'm in trouble. Again.
And I look at the clock and it's after 4:30. I've been here for nine solid hours, and the To-Do list just got longer and longer. That just seemed counter-productive. So I left.
And on the way home, I thought about what our visitor had to say about all the things I'm doing (teaching multiple classes, writing books, running an internationally recognized planetarium, running a Museum and multiple outreach programs reaching tens of thousands of people a year, and so on and so on...) and I thought about winding up in the emergency room last year. And i thought about having to pull off to the side of the road this morning. And I thought 'Ok. So it's a problem. Every problem has a solution somewhere.' And I made a plan. I'll make a list of what I do, over the next two weeks. And then I'll study it. And then I'll figure out how to cut it in half.
Because it turns out that I'm really good at saying 'No' to me, and to John, and to my family and friends, and the people and creatures who matter to me. But I'm terrible at saying it to people who have nothing to offer me but money. So that has to change. And it has to start with me.
I got in just after 7:30. Which meant that I left the house a bit past seven. Which meant that I woke at 6, fed the horses and the dogs, opened the coop for the day. Then I made oatmeal, fed the dogs, ate my oatmeal, and realized I was running late. A quick brush of teeth and hair and I was our the door.
Leaving so much behind. Undone.
On the way to work, I found myself crying to these lyrics from Train:
'did you sail across the Sun?
Did you make it to the Milky Way
To find the lights all faded
And that Heaven is over-rated?'
And so I had to pull over for a minute until I could take a deep breath.
And then I went on.
I got to work, and got ready for class, planning out which problems I would do, that fit the humorous 'super-hero' theme I'm working on. In the past couple of days, we've been Superman, Spiderman, Bruce Willis in Armageddon, and the X-men. Also search-and-rescue. I checked email, and started to answer one.
Off to class, and for 50 minutes, answered, hinted and directed, with all the intensity that only I am capable of. They laughed, they cried, they made jokes and solved problems.
After class, I was swamped with students, one after the other asking the same three questions, demonstrating that they didn't pay ANY attention to last week's problems worked in class. For an hour and ten minutes, I asked the same questions over and over: 'have written down your variables? Where is your free-body-diagram? What is this letter on your paper? Where is the rest of your work?' and it's hard to remember that they were only 5 out of 86.
Then finding that I had no time to go over my notes, I headed off to class with the speaker for the afternoon seminar. I've known him since I was a post-doc, and he's new faculty at another University. He's come to see me teach, and get some pointers. So I start my lecture, and get to the second page. Where I realize pages are missing. Because I used them in another course last year, and never put them back. And didn't have time to check before class. So now I have to 'wing it', on the explanation of core-collapse supernovae, with photo disintegration, charge destruction and neutron degenerate matter. I'm thrilled when the class side-tracks me on magnetic fields of neutron stars, and this disguises the fact that I was completely unprepared.
Back to my office after class, a line of students waiting to hear me ask them 'Where's your free-body-diagram?'... But it's not office hours, so they just have to wait for me to be done with the visitor. He asks me about teaching for an hour or so, and I give him all my astro 101 materials, so he'll have some kind of help in his new job, and agree to mentor him when he needs it. Then it's time to take the guest to lunch. A student stops me in the hall, just to ask me a 'quick question', that turns into three. Which are all basically about the definition of the words in the problems.
So off we go to the Union Building, where the food ranges in quality from bleh to inedible. But it's what we've got.
Back again after an awkward hour of conversation between this newly minted faculty member and one of our professors (who should be emeritus by now) about the 'lost generation' of scientists, who obediently filled the pipeline, only to find that no one is retiring, and there are no jobs. Some things are bad, and others are worse. The average time a PhD astrophysicist spends in post-docs is now 8 years. EIGHT. On average. So some spend much, much longer than that.
Back to the building, explaining again that LAST year was the last ditch year for Science Olympiad. That it didn't matter anymore if it was good or if we wanted it, but that it couldn't be done. And yes, it was me that made that decision (and, goddamnit, if everyone cared that much about it, where in the hell were all of you when I was lying on the bathroom floor because I couldn't stand up because the stress had shut down my entire digestive system?!). Or maybe i've just been having this discussion so many times that every conversation about Science Olympiad feels like it goes like that...
Off to a poorly attended seminar. An embarrassment, when bringing people in from other places. Especially friends.
And the person who is supposed to shepherd the speaker for the rest of the afternoon is off to lab. So I take him up to show him the planetarium, completely forgetting my regularly scheduled meeting with my staff. And he's duly impressed that our 'little' planetarium has sold shows in 26 states, 17 countries, and they've been translated into 8 languages...
So away he goes, and I check in with my staff, and keep them going on their projects. The Physics Open House is Friday, and there are lots of preparations in train for that. Back to my office to send electronic copies of physics at home experiments, that need to go to the copy center, hopefully to come back before the Open House. It should have happened first thing this morning. And maybe they won't get done in time. But there was nothing I could do about it.
I check the rest of my emails, and my phone messages, which include a long list of people getting in touch with me about the parts of my job that I'm terrible at---accounting, paperwork, interim reports. And co-authors demanding instant responses. And who even knows why OSP left me two messages on my phone and an email asking for a meeting ASAP. I don't know what they want, but it probably means I'm in trouble. Again.
And I look at the clock and it's after 4:30. I've been here for nine solid hours, and the To-Do list just got longer and longer. That just seemed counter-productive. So I left.
And on the way home, I thought about what our visitor had to say about all the things I'm doing (teaching multiple classes, writing books, running an internationally recognized planetarium, running a Museum and multiple outreach programs reaching tens of thousands of people a year, and so on and so on...) and I thought about winding up in the emergency room last year. And i thought about having to pull off to the side of the road this morning. And I thought 'Ok. So it's a problem. Every problem has a solution somewhere.' And I made a plan. I'll make a list of what I do, over the next two weeks. And then I'll study it. And then I'll figure out how to cut it in half.
Because it turns out that I'm really good at saying 'No' to me, and to John, and to my family and friends, and the people and creatures who matter to me. But I'm terrible at saying it to people who have nothing to offer me but money. So that has to change. And it has to start with me.
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