My decision to avoid science was pretty much solidified the first semester of my freshman year in college, during Chemistry 101. The professor was a callous, stern older woman who gave long lectures without betraying a trace of emotion, multiple choice tests that required rote memorization, and long, boring labs with titrations that I found tedious and uninspiring. Perhaps I would have felt differently if I’d known how titrations could be used to develop a medication for a sick child, or to find the cure for a disease. Although I got As and Bs in Chemistry, Precalculus, and several Computer Science courses, I assumed I wasn’t good at science. I’d always been an A student in high school, and when that didn’t come as easily in college, I took no more science courses than the minimum requirements for my B.A. It wasn’t until twelve years later, after my mother had a stroke that I began to rethink my decision to avoid science. Research on the gender gap in science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM) fields includes many strategies for creating gender-inclusive STEM classrooms: smaller classes, increased percentage of female faculty, outreach programs as a bridge between high school and college, cooperative learning vs. competition, recognition of different communication styles, hands-on projects, group work, and content that is relevant to society. Perhaps I would have felt differently if I’d experienced a different type of science classroom.
There have been two times in my life when it seemed that the universe grabbed me and shook me out of my complacency. The first, when I was evacuated from the corporate headquarters of the company where I worked, from the Sears Tower, on September 11th, 2001 and was subsequently stranded in Chicago. After four years of feeling ambivalent about my place in the corporate world of software development, I quit my well paying job, sold my house, and went to graduate school.
The second time was in November of 2005, when my 60-year-old mother had a stroke that deprived the left side of her brain of oxygen, and left her with permanent left-side weakness. Ironically, this experience, the biggest test of strength and courage my family has ever known, has also been a blessing. I would never want my mom to suffer again, but she has led me to value every moment, to believe that I have the ability to change my direction if I’m not happy. And it is seeing my parents, happier together than they’ve ever been, which is my foundation.
My plan with the Master’s degree was to pursue teaching at the college level. That was before I learned that teaching English at the college level with only a Master’s degree essentially pays minimum wage, and offers no promise of any (let alone permanent) employment. And isn’t this surprising, given that our English dept. relies on almost as many instructional academic staff working in these tenuous circumstances, as they do tenure-track PhDs. This is just as bad, if not worse, as the abuse of limited term employees in higher education (but this is all another story).
Alas, I just met with my manager, and he made no mention of the agenda-less meeting drama! I am so surprised I expected that he would have a diagram about it, which he would narrate. He had another diagram, which he did narrate, but at least for now it sounds like I’m free to make my own decisions about meeting agendas.
I’m writing this all just as I found out about yet another tragedy with a friend’s struggle to have another child. My heart breaks for her, and yet I am without words. It makes all my complaints this week seem so trivial.
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