The New Media Lab Written Word Journal Issue One 10 19 2020

What does it smell like where you are?

The NY Times posed this question to readers today, and my smell-memory started to go a little crazy…

I grew up in Indiana--which to me smells like dirt—good, loamy, thick black dirt—the kind that grows morels and puffballs. A lot of native Hoosiers know where to find Morchella Pezizales and Calvatia Giagantea. And they don’t share those directions with anyone. Springtime smells like morels. In the fall, Indiana smells like leaves. Big piles of fall leaves…Some of the less-woke Indiana folks still BURN their leaves. It’s a nice smell.

Arizona, at least the valley, doesn’t seem to have much smell. When I lived in downtown Phoenix, there was an awful, icky smell that would waft up from the vicinity of the Durango Curve on the 17. I heard it was the wastewater treatment plant at 17th Ave and Lower Buckeye. But I’ve heard other things too—from a pet crematorium to the Bimbo bread plant. I hope it wasn’t the bread plant, because bread should not smell like that.

Tempe always smells nice in the spring. Tempe still has a lot of orange trees—especially on the ASU campus. They start to bloom right around my birthday in March. But then inside our former house on Ash Avenue, sometimes there was a really weird smell in the hallway. It didn’t really belong in the house, and I seemed to be the only one who could smell it. My husband said it was olfactory hallucinations. The Mayo Clinic offers this advice about hallucinations: “It's best to avoid arguing with [the person] that the hallucination isn't real.” One of the cats used to stare at a place on the floor in the hallway where the smell came from. Feline olfactory hallucinations….

These days, in my house in Chandler, I have the daily pleasure of smelling one other human, two dogs and two cats. The cats don’t smell like anything. Maybe if you smell them up close, they smell like fur.

The dogs are a whole other issue. Laika’s a border collie, almost 14, and he smells pretty much like an old dog. Sometimes, he smells a little like bacon. Which is weird because we don’t eat a lot of bacon. We used to take him to the groomer to be bathed and clipped, but he’s so old, he just lies down in the middle of everything. They told us they not to bring him there anymore for grooming because he was “too difficult.” Don, my husband, attempted to give him a bath this morning but I don’t know how well that worked. He (the dog) kind of just smells wet—with some small tinge of baby shampoo.

The other human here is my husband, and he smells OK to me most of the time.

My house, no matter what I do, smells like last night’s dinner —which usually involves something and garlic. I gave up trying to get rid of the garlic smell a long time ago. I’m pretty sure I smell like garlic too. My friends (back when I would see them) are too nice to say that I smell like garlic. We eat a lot of fish. For the last part of the summer, it was too hot to go out and cook on the grill, so we cooked indoors. Garlic and fish. I can live with that.

Now that the weather is nice, I’ve been keeping the doors and windows open in the morning. It’s a relief to have real air coming in. I’m hoping it lets the fish and garlic smells out.

But, since March, through the whole shutdown, teaching online, and making my dining room into an office, the one smell I’ve been missing the most is the smell of rain. Then again, since 2020 has proven to be the strangest year ever, I guess I’m not surprised that on top of everything else, it stopped raining.

AS I entered into the Fall semester of 2020, I never imagined it looking like this. This is my twelfth year teaching English at Mesa Community College and my nineteenth year teaching overall. I am teaching Live Online classes, sitting at the table in my kitchen. My daughter is using my home office to attend her fully online first grade class. And, I have a one month old son crying in the living room, right next to the kitchen. Under normal circumstances, I would drop my daughter off at school on my way to work. Then, I would head to the Grounds for Thought coffee shop, before going to my office for an hour of quiet prep time in my office, before going to teach. After teaching, I would have more time to grade and manage my online classes, in my office, on the Southern and Dobson campus. After years of trying to separate my home life from my job to maintain a healthy work/life balance and manage time better, I’m teaching from my kitchen.

I imagine many of you are in the same boat. You are managing life and school under less than ideal circumstances. Maybe you have children taking online classes instead of being at school. Maybe you are taking a Live Online course when you’d rather be face to face. Regardless of the situation, I can assure you that we are all going to be ok. Here are a few suggestions to help you navigate the semester.

Time management: I don’t know about you, but there just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day. At the beginning of the semester, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the same groove that I have in a normal semester. Then, I sat down and made a schedule. I realized that I actually have more time than I used to have. I’ve cut out the 30 minute commute in the morning and afternoon. If I start working when I would have gotten into the car, I can make up for the time I lose right after class. There are other chunks of time in the day that I’ve found to work also. Now, I have dedicated chunks of time I am able to get all of my work done. If you haven’t done so already, sit down and account for your time. Research says that for every 1 hour in class, you should set aside 2 for homework. Where are the 1-2 hours you have to get work done. And, ask yourself if doing work at the end of the day, is the best option. I see the time stamps for Canvas submissions,1130pm, 1am, 3am. Not surprisingly, they are also the posts with the most small errors (e.g. not capitalizing words or misspellings). For some of you, working that late will be the only option. But, if you can, work earlier in the day when you are more awake and productive.

Read everything twice and take notes: I’ve been teaching online classes for the past fifteen years. I’ve also took a few online classes in graduate school. Here’s what I learned taking online classes--they require a lot of reading. You should get in the habit of reading everything twice to make sure that you fully understand the expectations of the assignment. If you are unclear, email your instructor. In my online classes, most of the points students lose on daily postings in my class are due to (1) not following directions and (2) misreading the course materials. Take your time when you read. Annotate the pages with notes. If you are reading online, take notes in a notepad or a Google Doc. The more actively you read, the more you will learn.

Give yourself a break: As my story illustrates, your teachers are working under stressful conditions too. When I’m teaching my Live Online classes, I’m sure my students hear my one month old crying in the background sometimes. They certainly see my six year old daughter pop her head into camera view when she comes into the kitchen during her snack time. Give us a break. We are actively trying to reach out to you more to help you make the most of this online semester. And, give yourself a break. We are still in the midst of a pandemic. Everything is less than ideal. Whatever obstacles you have, you can overcome them. If you need assistance, MCC has a number of student support services available to help you.

Good luck with the rest of your semester! And, don’t forget that registration for Spring is right around the corner. Once you find your groove this semester, you might as well keep pushing through into the Spring.

Why Community College during times of COVID?

We live in a time of rapid change. The most obvious change has been that we do less face to face activities and rely more on digital interactions. For example, we shop for groceries online, work remotely, conduct business meetings in a Zoom room, or attend classes in virtual classroom. As the world around us embraces technology we need to have a better grasp of how different cultures represent themselves in a digital world. The Covid pandemic became an accelerator and disrupter of the digital age. Now, we have opportunities to connect and collaborate with people outside of our community, our region, our state, even our country.

Today, cultural sensitivity is more important than ever before because the workforce and education are not anymore between four walls, they are inside and outside of the organization. Covid completely rewrote the definition of work and education as well as introduced us to a new reality where it is critical to adapt quickly by learning new skills.

2020 is a year of challenge, a year of opportunities, and an opportunity to transform. It is not going to be easy, but potential payoffs are worth the time invested. Are you equipped to face a new reality and to overcome new challenges?

Community Colleges are known to be the gateway to new careers because of the many internships, certificates, and programs that are typically arranged with local organizations. In times when the change is constant Community Colleges have been flexible enough to address new challenges by creating new solutions. Currently, we offer 80% of our classes online or live virtually. Over the years we build an extensive portfolio of faculty whose approach is not just academia but actual experience working in the industry. Our organization as a whole embraced the change and transformed the traditional way of in-person education to meet new standards - the virtual classroom. We are proud to offer you an opportunity to transform with time. Our program offerings are carefully curated for the best learning experiences.

We offer a wide array of digital literacy courses and IT programs that will prepare you to be a qualified tech professional. But what is really important is that cultural sensitivity plays a vital role in community colleges, our student population has different values, beliefs, and attitudes. We, as an organization, have experience in cultural sensitivity and we can provide the skills you need in this time of change and we are able to offer this due to our broad knowledge in this area.

In the past, the only way to learn about other cultures was to travel to foreign countries. Today, because the world is digital we are virtually exposed to the world. Companies can hire people from everywhere, you don’t have to live and work in the same state or country. We will have a much more fluid work-life, it will be a hybrid work environment. Community Colleges can prepare you for this transition. Taking classes in virtual rooms and learning more about digital tools, it is a great opportunity to embrace the change in the learning environment and be digitally ready for the new real world.

Community Colleges can give students and faculty a combination of skill sets to fill the knowledge gaps in digital and cultural sensitivity. As we connect more through digital platforms we naturally connect more throughout the virtual world. Community Colleges offer hands-on, applicable, high-quality practical education relevant to students in this new era of technology. Enroll today to improve your skills at the institution that provides you with cultural intelligence. We all need to be able to adapt to this rapid change and Community Colleges are here for you.

In the spring of 2020, I was on sabbatical. My sabbatical goal was to explore the Mexican roots of Chicano Literature and develop a fuller transborder understanding of that literature, both for myself and for my students. The University of Guanajuato agreed to help in my efforts and even offered me a guest professorship; they wanted me to teach Chicano Literature. I was flattered by the offer, but I had to decline due to my sabbatical obligations.

I spent the month of February in México, doing research, visiting with professors at the university, reading, writing. I attended a conference on Mexican Literature in San Miguel Allende. Then I came back to Arizona, to prepare for the series of workshops I would deliver at the university when I returned. And that, as they say, “is all she wrote.” The pandemic struck and I could no longer go back. Then it got surreal.

I was on sabbatical as I watched us here on this side of the border try to deal with the implications and changes brought upon by the pandemic. I felt both badly and lucky that I did not have to do what my colleagues and students were doing, paradigmatically switching midstream from FtF classes to online classes. The University of Guanajuato was struggling as well. I concentrated on my research and my sabbatical and, given the circumstances, I took advantage of the time and accomplished my goals.

But it was odd to be disconnected from campus and teaching at this very difficult and challenging time. I know it was extremely difficult to make that transition, for the college, for professors, for students. I felt disconnected and yet, to be honest, in part because colleagues told me, I felt lucky not to be teaching this spring. Personally, I knew my family and I were fortunate, and yet I realized the suffering of people worldwide has been devastating. I tried to stop reading the news. I rode my bike. I worked on my sabbatical.

I was thankful that my daughters were done with their k-12 schooling, as I could not imagine what that would be like, trying to help them learn in an online environment. I got anxious at times, claustrophobic. One morning, the president announced that “there would be deaths.” I had to get outside to breath. I wrote a poem:

When August came, and we did not go back to campus, it was the first time I had not gone back to campus in over forty years, from undergraduate and graduate days, to my long career teaching. And given my sabbatical and campus closure, I probably will not set foot on campus for close to two years. That’s surreal as well.

But I am not the only one. 2020 will mark us all.

Why go to college? What can it offer you? What is the purpose of higher education? These are questions I asked myself, long ago, when I first started entertaining the idea of doing something no one in my family had ever considered – go to college.

My parents were the first in their families to graduate from high school and I was the first in my family and extended to attend college. It was both exciting and terrifying at the same time. I was constantly plagued with doubt and regularly asked myself:

Am I smart enough? Will I have enough money? Am I strong enough? Will others see me as an imposter? Will I be able to stick with it?

I did stick with it. Receiving a Bachelor’s degree was a big deal to me. It was also a huge step for my family, even though they had no idea what a Bachelor’s degree was or what doors it would open. Where I am today, is because I had people who believed in me. Many I did not know, or did not know well. One person in particular shared this quote by Carl Rogers with me: “What you are to be, You are now becoming. Indeed, what I am to be" – I am now in the midst of becoming. It is a lifelong process.

Back to the purpose of obtaining a higher education. To me, it is about BECOMING. Asking yourself the big questions.

Questions like: • What do you stand for? What values guide you? Will you right a wrong? Will you stand up for those who have been silenced? What are you passionate about? o What you stand for matters. How you interact with others makes a difference. • What do you hope for in your life? What gives you energy? How do you contribute to your community? What good are you putting into the world? How curious are you about others?

Your hopes and dreams are opportunities. They are part of what defines you. Hold on to them and bring them to life. They may not happen all at once or on the timeframe you want them to. That’s ok. Your hopes live within you. • What is your legacy? How do you want to be remembered? What impact do you want to have on others?

Your legacy is your life's work. It is being built with choices you make and the experiences you gain. This means the good things and the less than good things. Both contribute to who you are becoming. And you ARE becoming. There are naysayers. Do not give in to them. Do not give them access to your heart. You are strong.

I have been alive for almost six decades and I still ask myself these questions. My wish for you is to never stop asking (and in time answering) yourself the big questions. The questions make us real. The questions make us reflect. The questions inspire us to become better.

Remember, “What you are to be, You are now becoming.”

Fly Fishing in Stanley, Idaho. 2020

The morning brought a welcomed 48 degrees to a much-needed break from another 112-degree day in Phoenix, AZ. I rolled out of bed to the sound of the Salmon River rushing past our campsite. I filled my cup with steaming coffee, leaned back into my chair and took in the majestic view of the Sawtooth Mountains, and exchanged jokes with brother Spence.

I sat there enjoying the peace of mind that just a few days earlier I had passed my yearly physical with high marks. All my tests were solid. My EKG, blood pressure, blood work all indicated a healthy man of my esteemed age.

Red fly? White fly? Brown fly? Red fly. I skipped down the mountain trail. I stood on the bank and immediately thought I should be on the other side of the river. Judging from my calculations, the river was waist high and if I drifted down stream I could reach the sandbar on the other side. I went for it. Huffing and puffing I made it across the river and back. Upon my return, I was fishless of course. Before I headed back up the trail to the road I decided to try a few more casts. Bam. A beautiful native trout. I had made plans for this trout before I left Phoenix. A hot cast iron skillet, lot’s of garlic, butter, salt and pepper. Thinly sliced fried potatoes with sweet onions.

The problem was I had been reading a lot of meditation literature of late. James Allen, Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chordon. I like to mix our traditional native teachings with a touch of Buddhism and a hint of Christianity (just in case). Back to the problem. I had taken a life. The life of a strong native fish from the river. I thought perhaps I have been living in the city too long, or maybe my guilt consciousness was a little out of hand. All I know is, I felt bad about taking the life of this native fish.

I did my best to enjoy the nourishment that nature had provided. But, on the long drive back to Phoenix I kept having these feelings of guilt about watching that fish gasp for air. Growing up, I had cleaned hundreds of Salmon. But, we always had ceremonies to protect us and to give reverence to the Salmon. At some point, I pulled off the road and grabbed my prayer bag, burnt some cedar and said a prayer of forgiveness.

Arriving back in Phoenix around 11 PM I unloaded my backpack and sat down on my bed and I had a left descending heart attack, known as the widow maker. I found myself lying on the floor at the intersection of life and death. Lying there, I remember asking myself if I could let this life go? You know, move on?

I made the call and from the 911 folks to the Cardiologist and staff I received the best care in the world. These professionals are amazing people. They save lives. They saved mine. For weeks after being released from the hospital I found myself angry, pushing people away and embarrassed, maybe even a little shameful. Men from my neighborhood don’t get sick; we just get old and slowly die.

And just like the men and women from my hometown, I was released from the ICU on Friday and I worked 8 hours on Monday. I don’t know any other way to live . . . but I am learning. I have finally accepted my situation and I am enjoying the simple joys of life. I realize more than ever what a privilege it is to be an educator and to work at Mesa Community College. It is a lot like fishing. We catch a student . . . online, but most importantly, we must be mindful to release them back into the river.

Peace and Love, -e

As I think back on 2020, it all seems like something from a twisted movie, doesn’t it? In March, grocery stores were half empty, people were concerned for their health, and basic necessities were hard to come by. Work and school changed drastically for many of us. Some of us were excited to work from home, while others felt isolated and unsure. I sympathized with the anxiety and uncertainty of our students and faculty during this time. I knew, however, that this was an opportunity for all of us to grow and learn.

I’ve always been a strong advocate of online education. As a current doctoral student, all but six of my college courses have been online. I’ve easily taken over 50 online courses in the pursuit of my associate’s, bachelor’s and master’s degrees. That trend continues as I work toward the completion of my doctorate in instructional technology. Without the opportunity to complete my educational journey online, I am confident that I would not be where I am today. It was the flexibility, independence, and accessibility that made it all possible for me.

My passion for this field is deeply embedded in who I am as a person. When Covid-19 changed our lives, I was excited to help others see the potential opportunities in online education. We had the chance to create engaging, profound digital experiences for our students. I wanted everyone to know about Open Educational Resources (OER), Universal Design for Learning (UDL), instructional technology tools, apps, all the instructional design theories and… well, you get the idea. #NerdAlert

I pulled my head out of the clouds, came back to Earth, jumped back into the madness, and realized that the main priority was simply migrating course content online. I had to forget about instructional technology, design, all that fancy stuff… it was simply about survival. It was about migrating courses online that had been taught in-person for over 20 years. It was about scrambling to put an entire online course together in 24 hours. Okay, so, shiny learning technologies and design theories had to be set aside, but I knew they would have their moment to shine. Meanwhile, we were all learning and growing along the way.

Growing through a pandemic has meant facing uncomfortable truths, however. While I like to believe online learning makes education more accessible to others, this is not always the case. Not all students have computers, tablets, or even smartphones at home. Not all students have a webcam, high speed internet, or a steady connection. In August, 2020, I saw an article about two young girls sitting outside of a Taco Bell in California with laptops. They were using the Wifi to attend classes. I had to ask myself some hard questions.

Why isn’t access to Wifi a basic human right/necessity? Of all the barriers that stand in the way of getting a quality education, why is this one of them? What are we doing to break down these barriers for others? As if access to technology wasn’t challenging enough, many online courses needed adjustments to be ADA compliant and accessible. Many of our students have individual, deeply personal needs from our talented faculty and instructional designers, and I’ve seen us all stop at nothing to meet these needs.

I am so proud to work in an organization with such caring, driven, passionate faculty and staff. Every step of the way--through every hurdle, obstacle, and bump in the road--our students are the reason for all we do. This entire experience has been a whirlwind of exhaustion, liberation, happiness, frustration, laughter, tears, successes, losses, and so much more… and it’s not over yet. Let’s continue to grow and learn together. No one knows what next year looks like, but let’s remember how we’ve leaned on one another for support, learned from one another, and continued to make student success our main mission.

Even if that means we have to do it online.