This is the last week of classes at FGS (yay! and also a little bittersweet, honestly), and I have been quite the mover and shaker in a variety of ways. I'm hot stuff, my friends.
Exhibit A: I got an article accepted at a journal on Tuesday! Hurrah! A particular hurrah because this was new territory in a variety of ways:
Exhibit B: I'm going to have a short-term summer gig after all. Back when I was panicking about money and applying to be an SAT-prep teacher, I sent off an application to a local swanky prep school that runs a summer program. Last week, I got an invitation for an interview and thought, What the hell? I'll go talk with them. Then I kind of changed my mind over the weekend and sent a slightly abrupt email on Tuesday to the effect that I wasn't willing to teach their six-week classes and indeed would only consider the three-week classes that meet in the first part of the summer. I assumed that would be the end of it, but the director wrote back and said, "Of course, we'll be happy to give you those classes!" So I went ahead to the interview, to which I was 15 minutes late because of various traffic miscalculations. And after all of that, the director opened the conversation by essentially offering me the job before I even said anything; he then asked me the broadest of questions -- "I've read your resumé, of course, but why don't you tell me a little about your career and your teaching?" -- and after I talked for a few minutes, he then officially offered me the job. He also offered me more money than their usual because of my illustrious degree and experience, and he broached the subject of what I might like to teach next summer as well. So there you go. If this three-week gig turns out to be pretty fun and easy, it would be a fabulous thing indeed to have that possibility available for any summer I wanted it. The director and I did, by the way, briefly discuss the horrible summer school experience I had last summer; he said, "That program is ... well ... a little rough around the edges. I think you'll find Swanky Summer School much more along the lines of Fabulous Girls' School." And since that is indeed the reputation of both programs, I'm taking him at his word on this. Anyway, the point of all of this is that this interview in which I felt like a star being courted happened the day after my good publication news, and all the way around I'm feeling like hot stuff indeed.
Of course, for all the excitement of Exhibits A and B, sometimes it's better not to be hot stuff at all. Sometimes being normal is the very best thing there is, and one doesn't want to be at all unusual.
Which brings me to my ongoing dental saga, Exhibit C. You'll recall the Cavity that Ate Chicago and the loss of the temporary crown on Saturday. Today I went in for the permanent crown, which was supposed to be a simple 10-minute procedure. Two hours later, the dentist threw up his hands in genuine frustration and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow? I'd like the gum specialist to take a look at this tooth. I've thrown everything I have at it, and I've got nothing left to give." Oh dear. It turns out I'm incredibly special in another way: My gums have the regenerative power of some supernatural being, but this is a really bad thing that caused my dentist to shake his head several times and mutter, "I just can't believe this. I've never seen anything like this." Okay, I made up the part about the supernatural being, but my gums are amazingly hot stuff, it seems. Plus there's something weird going on with part of the tooth's root, which seems to have been partially absorbed back into my body, leading the various folks peering into my mouth to say to one another, "I've heard of this happening, but I've never actually seen it." And if that is in fact what's happening, I should be in excruciating pain, and yet I'm not, so there's a medical mystery. Oh super, looks like I'm special. So special that my dentist is actually going to come in to the office tomorrow, on his day off, to see the gum man at work on my mouth.
Add to this the fact that I was fighting off a panic attack for most of my time in the chair, and you have a pretty bad afternoon. I was completely fine last time when they were going at me with hammer and tongs (or drill and pick), but I think the knowledge that something was going wrong, that things were amiss, threw me into a tizzy this time, and I had an elevated heart rate and shortness of breath for most of the appointment. Plus, I'm a super-duper bleeder (hot stuff!), and so they dosed me on so much Novocain (which apparently helps to staunch bleeding) that the entire left side of my face was numb; I couldn't feel my left eyelid, which completely freaked me out. When they'd leave me alone with cotton in my mouth to staunch the bleeding, I practiced every calming or self-hypnotic technique I could think of (and I found myself here remembering various bloggers' birth stories!), and that helped me get through it, and I kept a brave face on, but I was a mess. The moment I left the office, I burst into tears and cried all the way to my car, then sat in the car crying for 10 minutes before I started home, then cried again to D. when I told her all about it. I told my doctor enough of this -- without crying in front of him, I'm pleased to say, and indeed he was surprised to hear what a bad time I'd been having -- and I have a prescription for Valium with which to dose myself half an hour before the appointment.
So in some ways I'm happy to be hot stuff this week, but for tomorrow afternoon, I'd really, really like to be the most ordinary of ordinary folks; nothing special; nothin' to write home about; nothing to see here, folks. No hot stuff at all, nosireebob.
Exhibit A: I got an article accepted at a journal on Tuesday! Hurrah! A particular hurrah because this was new territory in a variety of ways:
- a whole new genre and subject for me -- a relatively short (under 4000 words) pedagogical piece about a mid-20th-century poetry collection ... soooo outside of my usual haunts;
- a new type of publication -- the article is being published in a journal that specializes in secondary school English instruction; it's a top journal, although the field of competition is much smaller in that regard.
- a new kind of timeline -- I've decided that part of my frustration with academic writing is that it takes years from conception to publication, by which point I've lost all interest in the piece. So check this out: I had the idea for this article in November; I wrote it in two weeks over winter break and submitted it mid-January; I heard back this week that it was accepted, and they want only a few minor changes pronto (unusually fast turn-around, but the editor gushed about how incredibly well-written and polished the piece already was), and publication is in November; that's one year from conception to publication, which I find very exciting.
Exhibit B: I'm going to have a short-term summer gig after all. Back when I was panicking about money and applying to be an SAT-prep teacher, I sent off an application to a local swanky prep school that runs a summer program. Last week, I got an invitation for an interview and thought, What the hell? I'll go talk with them. Then I kind of changed my mind over the weekend and sent a slightly abrupt email on Tuesday to the effect that I wasn't willing to teach their six-week classes and indeed would only consider the three-week classes that meet in the first part of the summer. I assumed that would be the end of it, but the director wrote back and said, "Of course, we'll be happy to give you those classes!" So I went ahead to the interview, to which I was 15 minutes late because of various traffic miscalculations. And after all of that, the director opened the conversation by essentially offering me the job before I even said anything; he then asked me the broadest of questions -- "I've read your resumé, of course, but why don't you tell me a little about your career and your teaching?" -- and after I talked for a few minutes, he then officially offered me the job. He also offered me more money than their usual because of my illustrious degree and experience, and he broached the subject of what I might like to teach next summer as well. So there you go. If this three-week gig turns out to be pretty fun and easy, it would be a fabulous thing indeed to have that possibility available for any summer I wanted it. The director and I did, by the way, briefly discuss the horrible summer school experience I had last summer; he said, "That program is ... well ... a little rough around the edges. I think you'll find Swanky Summer School much more along the lines of Fabulous Girls' School." And since that is indeed the reputation of both programs, I'm taking him at his word on this. Anyway, the point of all of this is that this interview in which I felt like a star being courted happened the day after my good publication news, and all the way around I'm feeling like hot stuff indeed.
Of course, for all the excitement of Exhibits A and B, sometimes it's better not to be hot stuff at all. Sometimes being normal is the very best thing there is, and one doesn't want to be at all unusual.
Which brings me to my ongoing dental saga, Exhibit C. You'll recall the Cavity that Ate Chicago and the loss of the temporary crown on Saturday. Today I went in for the permanent crown, which was supposed to be a simple 10-minute procedure. Two hours later, the dentist threw up his hands in genuine frustration and asked, "What are you doing tomorrow? I'd like the gum specialist to take a look at this tooth. I've thrown everything I have at it, and I've got nothing left to give." Oh dear. It turns out I'm incredibly special in another way: My gums have the regenerative power of some supernatural being, but this is a really bad thing that caused my dentist to shake his head several times and mutter, "I just can't believe this. I've never seen anything like this." Okay, I made up the part about the supernatural being, but my gums are amazingly hot stuff, it seems. Plus there's something weird going on with part of the tooth's root, which seems to have been partially absorbed back into my body, leading the various folks peering into my mouth to say to one another, "I've heard of this happening, but I've never actually seen it." And if that is in fact what's happening, I should be in excruciating pain, and yet I'm not, so there's a medical mystery. Oh super, looks like I'm special. So special that my dentist is actually going to come in to the office tomorrow, on his day off, to see the gum man at work on my mouth.
Add to this the fact that I was fighting off a panic attack for most of my time in the chair, and you have a pretty bad afternoon. I was completely fine last time when they were going at me with hammer and tongs (or drill and pick), but I think the knowledge that something was going wrong, that things were amiss, threw me into a tizzy this time, and I had an elevated heart rate and shortness of breath for most of the appointment. Plus, I'm a super-duper bleeder (hot stuff!), and so they dosed me on so much Novocain (which apparently helps to staunch bleeding) that the entire left side of my face was numb; I couldn't feel my left eyelid, which completely freaked me out. When they'd leave me alone with cotton in my mouth to staunch the bleeding, I practiced every calming or self-hypnotic technique I could think of (and I found myself here remembering various bloggers' birth stories!), and that helped me get through it, and I kept a brave face on, but I was a mess. The moment I left the office, I burst into tears and cried all the way to my car, then sat in the car crying for 10 minutes before I started home, then cried again to D. when I told her all about it. I told my doctor enough of this -- without crying in front of him, I'm pleased to say, and indeed he was surprised to hear what a bad time I'd been having -- and I have a prescription for Valium with which to dose myself half an hour before the appointment.
So in some ways I'm happy to be hot stuff this week, but for tomorrow afternoon, I'd really, really like to be the most ordinary of ordinary folks; nothing special; nothin' to write home about; nothing to see here, folks. No hot stuff at all, nosireebob.
Congratulations on the good stuff--and sorry about the dental trauma. Being unique in the dentist's chair is not the kind of fame anyone needs!
Posted by: Rev Dr Mom | May 29, 2008 at 09:47 PM
Congratulations on A and B. Commiseration on C -- I have a weird mouth that's gotten me into all sorts of annoyances so I understand being under scrutiny in the dentist's office (and how uncomfortable that is). The valium should help for your next visit.
Posted by: Janice | May 29, 2008 at 10:15 PM
Holy cats! The woman's on fire! Big congrats on A & B, but I'm so sorry about C. I had a tooth re-absorb itself when I was just Medieval Girl. It was weird and they kinda shrugged it off. I hope yours goes okay tomorrow - Capt. Valuim to the rescue!
Posted by: medieval woman | May 29, 2008 at 10:21 PM
Hip hurray for publications and valium. Valium really works for me with dental procedures (although the first time I took it, I was kind of panicking in a spacey kind of way, saying to POlitica, "I don't feel any different. Something is wrong!" except I couldn't actually get worked up. and the procedure went swimmingly.) So here's hoping for a better experience in the chair next time (and maybe D. could come with you so you don't have to drive home alone?)
The publication/job news is awesome!
Posted by: Susan | May 29, 2008 at 11:18 PM
Yay! Congrats about the summer job and the article! Hope things go okay with the tooth.
Posted by: Jane | May 29, 2008 at 11:23 PM
Wow - you ARE awesome! Huge congratulations on A and B. Huge commiserations and well-wishes on C!
Posted by: hilaire | May 29, 2008 at 11:58 PM
Excellent on 2 out of 3! And, um, I hope the whole Being A Super-Gum Special Exhibit doesn't last much longer :-)
Posted by: Thoroughly Educated | May 30, 2008 at 06:21 AM
You DO rock! Congratulations on your publication and on the nifty summer gig! I hope that by the end of today you will have an unextraordinary mouth and that you'll be able to reward yourself handsomely for enduring the dental ordeal. Will be thinking of you today!
Posted by: meansomething | May 30, 2008 at 09:19 AM
One thing to remember is that the numbing agent they use (which usually isn't Novocain, but a sister drug these days) has a stimulant in it which can increase anxiety and panic. I forget what it's called, but it's definitely a factor for some people who get very anxious. I am terrified of the dentist because of some bad experiences and it helped me to learn about the drugs they were using and how they might contribute to my already enormous anxiety. Valium is a godsend, too. Good luck!
Posted by: anonymous | May 30, 2008 at 11:01 AM
Yay for drugs at the dentist. Here's a funky question about your dental dramas--are you part native american by any chance? i have all sorts of dental oddities going on (nothing's in the right place...'I've never seen THAT before', etc.) and then dentist asked if I was indian. I said only a quarter, and voila! many mysteries solved.
Many congrats on all the other good stuff!!!
Posted by: ppb | May 30, 2008 at 11:14 AM
Hey, maybe your mouth will end up as some kind of case they want to write up for a dental journal. Then, not only are you the author of some awesome stuff that gets published, but you're the SUBJECT of it, too!
That said, good luck at the dentist. Enjoy the valium.
Posted by: ianqui | May 30, 2008 at 02:33 PM
congratulations on A & B and I hope C is done and over with tomorrow. Good luck.
Posted by: Psych Post Doc | May 30, 2008 at 03:26 PM