Becoming something
It has been just over a year since I began studying for my Masters in Secondary Education (English). The course work has been grueling, the reading dry and often contentious and the group work more hassle than its worth. The upside of the study has been verification that what I do in the classroom is what I'm meant to be doing, odd since I've changed very little from my days teaching in Cork. It seems that it is possible to transfer university-level instruction to a much younger age; what changes most in those situations are level of output (writing-wise, these students aren't going to produce any groundbreaking literary critiques) and texts (I wouldn't be able to assign Matthew Arnold or George Gissing to a bunch of thirteen-year-olds). That said, I think my students do pretty well with the challenging material that I do offer them, and I think they understand that it's done for their benefit. At least, I hope that's what they're taking away from it.
I just wonder from time to time if I'll ever get the chance to go back to graduate school for the long-sought-after Ph.D. The goal of my education has always been that--to be a tenured faculty member at a research university. I long for, in fact, I desire, that coveted position at the English department of my dreams; could you imagine me expounding on the virtues of reading Joyce to a bunch of Columbia undergrads? (You may, if you want, insert for Columbia any of the following: Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, Yale, Washington ...) It's just that, every day, that seems increasingly like a pipe dream. The continuing flux of the world's fiscal resources seems to be ensuring that making gains on my student loans will be next to impossible, too.
I just wonder from time to time if I'll ever get the chance to go back to graduate school for the long-sought-after Ph.D. The goal of my education has always been that--to be a tenured faculty member at a research university. I long for, in fact, I desire, that coveted position at the English department of my dreams; could you imagine me expounding on the virtues of reading Joyce to a bunch of Columbia undergrads? (You may, if you want, insert for Columbia any of the following: Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard, Yale, Washington ...) It's just that, every day, that seems increasingly like a pipe dream. The continuing flux of the world's fiscal resources seems to be ensuring that making gains on my student loans will be next to impossible, too.