Professor P passed back our first assignment of the semester, it was a book review. I thought it was relatively easy, probably should have spent a little more time on it, but I knew I had hit the marks to receive a decent grade. As other students’ received their papers I saw scores such as 98, 99, 100, 100, etc. I received my paper and it said. 68- please see me during office hours.
I made an appointment to see Professor S. during office hours. I sat in the chair across from her. She peered at me over those glasses that never seemed to sit properly on her face, and she said, and I quote...
“From what I have observed in class, I do not think you will be a good teacher.”
Me and my 19 year old, sassy, outspoken, and old-school Kanye cocky self immediately rebutted, “honestly, I believe that God has put a calling on my life to be a teacher, so I don’t think it matters what you think.” Oh, she did NOT like that. Well long story short, she made my year with her as uncomfortable as possible.
But I persisted. She told me that my peers didn’t want to work with me, and assigned me entire group projects to do alone.
As regards the classroom planning project, I will expect you to create a project based on your focal child and 19 other children to be selected from the appropriate lists posted on our Toolkit site in the CPP section. I will want you to complete the entire project, Reka, including the comprehension lesson plan for an ELL student at the preproduction level and a comprehension plan for an ELL student at an intermediate level, as well as the 4 other described lesson plans. I think you will find the CPP power point very helpful for your work.
Even followed me around the classroom, and acknowledged my tardiness even if it was only a couple of minutes late (for an 8 am class).
What she thought was going to be a three-way meeting ended up being six of us, Prof P, the Dean, me, my Black advisor, my other course professor, and my mommy (don’t mess with Black girls, cuz there is a stronger Black woman who’s got her back!). But, I persevered. I aced the course, graduated and she actually was assigned to my graduation line, so Professor P herself, had to hood me as I received my Master of Teaching from the University of Virginia. This ordeal was rough, but I learned so much about myself, about adversity, about how everyone I encounter will not want me to succeed, and will intentionally make it harder to do so. Yet, with my faith, determination, and my support system, I can and will achieve success.
After finishing my first month as a faculty member at the University of San Diego, it is such a surreal full circle moment as I now teach Methods of Literacy and Language, the Literacy Bloc course at USD. What she thought would break me only made me stronger. ISAIAH 54:17
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On May 13, 2022, with friends and family all around me, I graduated with my PhD in Education from San Diego State University! I partied all weekend, and celebrated this extraordinary occasion with many of my favorite people!
And then I was EXTREMELY exhausted. For days. Then I would think that my energy was reset, and I was back to myself, then I was exhausted again. I wasn’t working out, or staying up super late, and was wondering what in the world was making me so exhausted!
I had to remind myself, Reka, you just finished the most grueling, arduous, FOUR YEAR LONG project. Your body got you to the finish line, and now it’s tired!
REST. And rest some more.
While allowing myself to rest, I also gave myself time and permission to reflect. This process is so long and complex, you get so wrapped up into the details, you miss some of the pretty cool portions. Or you don’t give yourself enough time to celebrate those moments. So this summer for me was all about the celebration.
Am I doing too much? NOPE. Please do not let this world, or the social media-verse make you think that you are not worth celebrating. We are worthy of celebration just for existing. Just for being us. And I am definitely worth celebrating when I join the 3.1% of Black women that make up the 1.2% of the U.S. population that holds a Ph.D.
PhiniSHEd.
So what’s next? We shall see. Right now, I'm still celebrating!
]]>On one hand, I cannot believe it’s been an entire year since Greg died. On the other, this has been the LONGEST year of my life.
Three things I wish people knew:
IT DOESN’T GET EASIER: The hardest part of losing Greg so early in life is that I think constantly about how much more life I have to live without him. Yes, this year has also made it plain and clear that life is short, so on one hand, maybe I don’t live to be 80, 90, or 100 (or 50, 60, & 70 for that matter) But what if I do? The thoughts of having to live so much more life without the one person I thought would be sharing in the highs and lows of life for the long run? Now that’s some heavy shit. So no, grief does not get easier by any means. It does become more familiar. I know that I can have some moments of joy, all though none of them feel completely full without Greg. I also know that the waves of grief get high, and at times they engulf me so fast and hard, all I can do is call my mom sobbing, or curl up in my bed.
I KNOW I'M STRONG: Please don’t tell me how strong I am. First of all, I do know that I have shown great strength over this past year. But also know that you don’t see me all the time. You don’t see the moments that I break all the way down and don’t think I can continue. Another thing, no one wants to be this strong. My situation, my amazing support system, my faith, great therapy, and my amazing relationship with Greg allowed me to find strength during the hardest year of my life. But you throwing out that word strong, as if it is a well-fitting compliment, isn't received the way you may think.
SAY HIS NAME: Although Greg is no longer, and will never again be here with us in the physical form, he is still a very real presence in my daily life. So when people don’t say his name, or regard him, it feels weird and dismissive. I also know that many people may think, “Oh, I don’t want to bring it up, I don’t want her to be sad,” please trust that I am already sad. Very sad, so bringing up a memory of Greg, or commenting on something that he would have liked actually brings more happiness than sadness.
I don’t know how many more years of grief I have left, but I know it will match the years of my life. Because there will never be a day that I live that wouldn’t have been better with my little BIG brother being a part of it in the Earthly realm. However, I do know that he is here with me and I am grateful for being able to feel his presence often. I came up with the term beautiful hauntings. This is my term for when something is so far past what a coincidence could create, when the dream is so real, and when I can almost audibly hear Greg’s laugh, or see his smirk in a way that doesn’t seem like just a memory. While these moments evoke the reality and haunting concrete fact that he’s gone, each of these moments remind me, allow me to keep living in all of the beautiful things about him.
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I mean, yes, we are all hyper-productive, and pretty efficient, which is how many of us made it to, and through graduate education programs, but this semester wore me out. I taught FOUR courses. Yes, four! Two at my university and two at another. The only reason this was possible is because each of them utilized a different modality and frequency, and none of them were a new prep. One was co-taught, one only met once a month, and only one was in-person. But I learned my lesson.
NEVER AGAIN.
It was too many courses. Not that the teaching alone was too much. It was teaching in addition to data collection. In addition to my research project. In addition to putting on events for my PhD program. In addition to being on the job market. LOOKING FOR A JOB IS A JOB.
But, as I grade my last few assignments, I am grateful that I was able to curate articles and experiences for 75+ students, that I was able to support and guide teacher candidates through an interesting and uncertain semester back in classrooms. I am grateful for the inspiration and hope for continued change and growth future teachers give me. It reminds me of my fond memories of the elementary classroom and reinvigorates my WHY.
This semester wasn’t all bad either. I was accepted to a few conferences :), finally got back into IRL educational conferences, spent my birthday weekend in Napa Valley, successfully completed my data collection, and launched the PubliSHEd collection.
During the winter holiday, I am looking forward to REST. I am also setting aside some time for planning out Spring 2022, because although I am not teaching four courses, it is going to be a busy few months as I try to finalize my doctoral journey and prepare to defend my dissertation, and not lose myself in the madness.
PRAY FOR ME & SEND COFFEE.
What are you looking forward to during the break?
]]>6-Month Update
My brother’s death changed me. Profoundly. But it did not stop me. I am living and bringing him along for the journey in various ways.
Waves really are the only analogy that fits. I think it's also super fitting since my brother and I both love the water. We don’t have to get in it, but just being around it feels good.
Think of yourself just sitting at the beach, close enough for the water to reach your toes, but that's it. And then a wave comes and literally submerged you. You don't even have time to run. You're engulfed.
The biggest qualm with this grief is you get no warning. Sure, a special time of the year, a birthday, what would have been this or that celebratory occasion. But honestly, at lest for me, those days aren't as bad. Probably because you build yourself up for those, you put on all the proper water gear, so when the wave hits, you have a second to hold your breath and close your eyes. It’s that time that you drive next to the restaurant that he wanted to visit in your city, that you didn't realize you were about to pass. It's the first time something really good happens, the first time I felt really happy, and then immediately starting crying because it sucks to be happy without it. The first time you actually crack up laughing, and you are so relieved that life still offers you humor, but immediately saddened that you can’t share the joke. When my first first author manuscript gets accepted with minor revisions, and I can’t call my brother to share the news.
So I received an email that said I was hired to teach a couple of summer classes for a school of education program that a friend had been raving about. It was the first really good news during my grief period. My boyfriend was sitting near me and I immediately and excitedly told him the news, and one second later broke down crying. This grief thing will have you feeling like you are not even supposed to be happy again. But Greg wants not just happiness for me, but joy, laughs, accomplishments, and unforgettable experiences.
I arrived (virtually) to the first day of class. Small Master’s level intro to educational research. Only 10 students. Guess what one of my student’s name’s is? Yep, Greg. So now, in my daily interactions, having to say Greg and not be talking to my brother. Yep its heavy.
Then I went to a summer instructor meeting and the icebreaker activity was tell us about a time or a pivotal moment in your life and of course the first thing I think about is my brother and I'm like okay maybe I can share these people are nice I've known them for a few weeks then even the thought of it is getting the emotional I'm just thinking about trying to tell my story and it's too hard see I talked about something else. So I made it through that meeting and then the next day I had a separate meeting with the director we were going to be co-teaching beginning the next week so we were putting the final edits on our course plans he said, “oh let's go with the same icebreaker we used yesterday” and I'm like “no actually can we not use that icebreaker like not ever” and realizing that I’m probably coming off rather harsh about an ice breaker, I go on to explain that I don't want to use ice breaker because it reminds me of my brother who passed away in February and I cried in that zoom meeting and completely through my co-teacher off.
The anticipatory stress was honestly worse than the day of my proposal defense. I realized in my analysis of my stress and anxiety, it was less about the proposal and more about this being the first big event since my brother's death. After a morning chat with my mom about how my brother is right there with me, and has forever been, and will be my biggest supporter, I felt calm, ready, and supported. I wore his PhemmeD shirt, and my hourglass urn necklace, and felt him with me. It's always going to be hard with him unable to attend my events in an Earthly form, but I have to remind myself that he now has the best seat at all of my future events.
1-Month In...
It’s March, a month that is usually described or referred to as March Madness. This is usually a reference to a month full of basketball. March for many is a reminder of the exciting recurrence of Spring, which brings warm weather, spring cleaning, Spring Break, and family traditions around holidays. March 2021 for most people is a catch-22 of a year of COVID & quarantine, but the existence and promise of a vaccine that promises a beginning to our collective new normal. As the rest of the world defines their March Madness with the inclusion of one of the aforementioned narratives, my March Madness finds me in a very new space...
Living IN Grief
While I never knew that the rest of my life would be forever changed in this magnitude, I am compelled to share my story during this doctoral journey with others, in hopes that it may help someone. It has been just about a month since my brother, Greg, died after receiving a diagnosis of Stage IV Colorectal Cancer w/ Mets. I am not okay, nor will I ever be.
Read my blog about his journey.
Read Greg's obituary.
But I am learning to live in grief.
Yes, I said living IN grief instead of living WITH grief. With implies that it is something I carry with me, like sometimes I can leave it at home, or hide it in my purse. I offer the word IN as a better articulation of my current state. The grief surrounds me. Sometimes it weighs on me so heavy that I can’t do anything else. Other moments it's a light layer surrounding me from all angles. Sometimes it clouds my day, and others it hangs back like my shadow. Wherever it chooses to hangout, it is ALWAYS there. It is the constant, and I am living in it.
Grief is love continued. Grief is as individual as love.
While grief is deeply personal, the training of my social justice and equity PhD program has just deepened my thinking of others and systemic ideology. The way our society deals with grief is completely defective. Even the random amount of days given for bereavement for most occupations is horrendous. Most people would receive 3 days of bereavement after the death of a loved one. THREE DAYS!?! How does one even begin a healthy life in grief in just 3 days? Who knew that my PhD program would be the BEST place for me to begin my forever grieving journey? The flexibility of my program and my professors and the lack of a daily fixed schedule have allowed me to take a full month off, and continues to be adjustable even as I slowly begin to return to my previous school and work commitments.
I know it’s only been a month, but here are a few things that have helped thus far.
God
Each day I wake up and view the daily verse in my Holy Bible app, and also try to listen to a spiritual meditation on the Abide app. I pray constantly, and my repeated prayer these days is to help me take it one day at a time, and to bring me peace. My faith reminds me that Greg is indeed in a better place, and while I will always miss him, he has completed his work here on Earth, and is living more fully and abundantly with the Lord, absent of any cancer, and with zero pain.
Greg
Greg was the first person in our family to choose cremation. Of course we upheld his wishes, and little did I know, this was the best decision for me too. I have a small urn here in California with me, and my parents have a bigger one at their home. In addition, I have a rose gold necklace that I filled with ashes, and therefore Greg is near me daily. I also have some of his journals and favorite sweatshirts, which all make it slightly easier to go about the day with him nearby.
Therapy
Thank goodness for good therapy. I truly believe that therapy has slightly eased this process. I was proactive and began my therapy journey last summer, when Greg was first diagnosed. Being able to have a therapist in the beginning of this ordeal, to get to know her, and continue with her throughout my brother’s last days and as I continue to grieve has been very helpful. She also recommended a book, It’s Okay That You’re Not Okay by Megan Devine. It’s a good read, especially for information processors and deep thinkers like me.
First, what is a proposal?
A proposal is one of two parts of the big project (the big D! (dissertation). In this paper you articulate your “proposal,” to collect data, analyze, as well as how you conceptualize your topic, and why your study needs to be implemented. It’s here that you demonstrate how your research will add to the existing body of literature and field of study. It is the synthesizing and conceptualizing of what will be my dissertation. The proposal is laborious because you are also synthesizing existing work that has been published on Black girls including articles AND books. It is proof to my committee that I am ready to take on the solo research project of a dissertation. It is the longest paper I have solo-authored up to this point. It is also a process in which you organize, write, and rewrite the paper and then submit it to your dissertation committee.
Second, how do you defend it?
The other part of the proposal is its oral defense, where you stand in front, behind, and beside each word of possibly the longest manuscript you have ever written in life. Your oral defense will usually include two parts that demonstrate how and why you do the work that you do, as well as a thorough outline and plan for your dissertation study. You may also have to defend previous qualifying exams that you completed along the journey of doctoral coursework and milestones. You do this in front of your dissertation committee. They will decide if your proposal was successful and you will then move into doctoral candidacy, and will be ABD (all but dissertation).
My advisor frequently says that the proposal is actually harder than the dissertation defense. I know she means well, but my goodness… that’s some pressure. I think it’s because it is mine. Like all mine. I have worked pretty collaboratively up until this point on multiple research projects that helped me inform my dissertation, my theoretical frameworks and methodology. However this one is ALL MINE. And then one day it will be published. Other people will know it’s mine. So, it better be good. Are you feeling the pressure too?
On July 26th, I successfully defended my proposal, and am now ABD!
What does summer look like for you? I am always trying to maximize my summer, however there is a harsh contrast between my pure zeal for summer vacation as a teacher and the surreal feeling of how fleeting summer is as a doc student. Let’s take a look at my summers past...
Summer 1 - Work, Work, Work
The first summer after my first year as a doc student, I put in that work! It was the first time in the last decade that I didn’t make time for a beach vacation. Beach vacations, preferably in a Spanish speaking country, have been a staple in my summers past. So while I was able to create amazing and meaningful connections to students and faculty in my program, I did not make it to the beach. What a bummer. I did, however, spend tons of time with friends and family, and even challenged myself to a 21 day workout reset, which left me feeling invigorated and ready for the upcoming academic year.
Summer 2 - CoronaVirus & Cancering While Black
The second summer was rough and beautiful in the most unexpected ways. My brother went to the emergency room on May 8. He was diagnosed with Stage IV Colon Cancer on May 14th. On May 24th I was suited in my hazmat suit on my way home. On May 25th George Floyd was murdered. That same week was when the COVID crisis seemed to be getting closer. First it was just on the news, but then I knew of a cousin who contracted it, or a friend of a friend’s mom who was in the hospital. It was beginning to be too close for comfort. It was this summer that everything that could hit, did hit, all at the same time. My brother’s cancer diagnosis, George Floyd’s murder, and the height of the Coronavirus Pandemic, all while I was teaching a new prep summer course, and taking a summer course. Difficult, to say the least, but the silver lining was how much quality time I had with my brother. I felt as though I was failing as a student, and as an adjunct professor, but I was Ace-ing being a big sister during crisis.
Summer 3 - Defend MY Proposal
As I am currently in the summer after completion of coursework, and the summer before dissertating, I am reminded of how slow-but-fast it all goes. This summer has been busy and rough. I am staying busy and capitalizing on some opportunities that have come my way, while also planning to defend my proposal by the end of July, all while teaching three courses. This summer I am teaching Research-Based Pedagogy for Diverse Learners, Intro to Research and Writing at the Graduate Level, and Elementary Literacy & Content Methods. Yes, it's a lot, and all this as I continue to find my way of carrying the weight of grief. This is the first summer without my brother, and I am feeling the impact of his absence hard, especially when I take a break from all the work that helps distract me. While I am working hard, I am also planning for my reflection & reset time. Once I successfully defend my proposal, I am heading back East to spend time with family and friends, and treating myself to some fancy spa services.
Summer 4 - Graduation World Tour
Next summer you say? Thanks for asking. I will be embarking on a Graduation World Tour! After being a student for WAY too many years, I will be celebrating the accomplishment of becoming Dr. Barton near and far. Stay tuned for the tour lineup! Maybe I’ll be coming to a city near you, lol! Lord willing, I will have secured a tenure-track professor gig and after I come off of my tour will take some much needed time to reflect, rest, and reset for my journey to begin in the professoriate.
Your Summer: Advice to New Doc Students
My advice to any new doc student is design your summers with YOU in mind. There are many ways to be productive, and they are not all scholarly. Yes, get some work done, but also spend time with friends and family, visit new places near and far, and do some goal setting and planning. Rest and enjoy yourself.
-R
]]>This.Is.Surreal.
Even more so because it is happening amidst a global pandemic.
Even more so because it is occurring during my season of early grief.
Even more so because this is something that my brother encouraged me to do and even created the first design samples of PhemmeD merchandise (RIP Greg).
Even more so because (insert all the ways society and academia are strategically designed for this little Black girl to fail).
So for this milestone…. I thank you. Un mil gracias.
Thank you for checking in, for commenting and liking, for being in conversation with me around all things scholarly, sewing related, and about traveling. You are what helped me keep myself this past year. You are my daily to-do that always felt like a reward. When life was really hard this past year, the TSS community felt like a place of relief, even for just a moment.
Again, I thank you.
So what’s new this year? Oh so much!
Beginning this summer…
On the blog I will still continue to have at least one post a month. I want to invite you to be a part of the Behind-The-Stitch blog. Want to share your story? Does it resonate with #TheScholarlySewist and the tenets of #Scholar, #Sewist, and/or #Sightseer? Let me know if you’d like to write a guest blog post and share your own story of perseverance while on your #gradschool journey.
On the ‘gram I want to start using IG Live. I have only done one and had a blast, so look forward to getting dissertation journey updates via IG Live and me being in conversation with other scholars, sewists, and sightseers.
YouTube is coming! As a visual researcHER, I want you to be able to see what I’m talking about. I have finally decided to start a YouTube channel, and the first episode is coming to you this summer. These videos or vlogs will give you a closer look into my #pathtoPhD, as this summer I will be defending my proposal and hoping to defend my dissertation, and become #Dr.B May 2022!
So make sure you are following us on all the platforms so you won’t miss any of the exciting things happening at The Scholarly Sewist!
IG: TheScholarlySewist
FB: TheScholarlySewist
Twitter: ScholarlySewist
YouTube: TheScholarlySewist (coming soon!)
Hopefully you were able to join us for the first official Scholarly Sewist event HERstory: WOC Redefining ResearcHER. If you did not, I will try to recap the event, but it was AMAZING, so that will be hard to do.
First, I am grateful to SDSU for to SDSU for sponsoring this event and allowing me the opportunity to use my creativity to design, develop, and implement HERstory in collaboration with The Scholarly Sewist to reimagine what a scholar is.the sponsorship of this event to allow me to use my creativity to design, develop, and implement HERstory to reimagine what a scholar is. We, as SDSU students have the opportunity to apply for a grant to host events and programs to support the university campus? Usually these benefits are exclusively for university students, but in this virtual panini alternate universe, I was able to extend the reach of the event to those outside of SDSU.
I knew I wanted to do something different. Not a one and done moment. Something that centered women of color. Something that was not a “sit-and-get.” I needed it to be something more, something interactive, wide-reaching, and engaging.
I wanted to also put some people on as I did this work. I wanted to center WOC in every facet. So I did. I only invited dope WOC scholars, writers, and leaders to sit on the panel of the event. I purchased books from women-owned businesses such as Elizabeth’s and Charis Books, and directly from the author’s websites. I invited my amazing friends and colleagues to be moderators for the event. We elevated and promoted the event on social media which garnered support of other WOC who would not commonly be included or invited to participate.
I was able to use my creative brain to envision an event that included a panel of exceptional women across a diverse educational landscape, each with published works, both books and articles, which attendees read prior to the event.
The result was magical.
It started with the PhemmeD Panel.
Six phenomenal Women of Color sat on the panel and answered questions about their journeys and experiences in the academic space. They talked about their current roles, the intersection of their identities and what was salient to them as they progressed on with their journey, in and out of university settings, and their research and self-care tips. The phenomenal panel consisted of:
Dr. Venus E. Evans-Winters (Dr. V) is Senior Researcher at the African American Policy Forum, a former Professor of Education, and she researches at the intersections of race, gender, and policy. Dr. Evans-Winters is also a clinical psychotherapist, certified clinical trauma professional (C-CTP) in private practice, and a health and wellness coach. Her research interests are educational policy analysis, racial trauma inside and outside of schools, and Black girls’ and women’s psychosocial development across the African Diaspora.
Dr. Dina C. Maramba is Associate Professor of Higher Education in the School of Educational Studies at Claremont Graduate University. She also worked in higher education/student affairs administration for over ten years. Her research focuses on equity and social justice issues within the context of higher education and the experiences of first generation BIPOC students and Filipinx Americans.
Dr. Angel Jones is a passionate educator with 15+ years of experience in K-12 and Higher Education. Broadly, her research focuses on the experiences of Black and Brown students at historically White institutions. More specifically, she examines how their experiences impact their mental health and overall well-being. Her areas of interest include microaggressions, racial battle fatigue, gendered-racism, and the psychological impact of each on Students of Color.
Dr. Malika Grayson is the founder of STEMinist Empowered LLC, an organization focused on the empowerment of Women of Color who pursue graduate degrees through workshops, personal statement reviews, and graduate mentorship.
She is a Fortune 100 global speaker, bestselling author, and mechanical engineer. She currently works in the defense industry and has used her platform as a speaker to discuss her experiences both in academia and industry.
Dr. Robin M. Boylorn is Associate Professor of Interpersonal and Intercultural Communication at the University of Alabama. Her research interests center the lived experiences of black women, especially black women in the American South.
Dr. Gina Ann Garcia is an associate professor in the department of Educational Foundations, Organizations, and Policy at the University of Pittsburgh. Her research centers on issues of equity and justice in higher education with an emphasis on understanding how Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs) embrace and enact an organizational identity for serving minoritized populations.
After the panel, each speaker led their own book club session, allowing other WOC and students to share space with the authors, up close and personal, all from the comfort of their Zoom screen. These book clubs were small and intimate, and spanned over topics from the book but also the process of writing and publishing and personal experiences. The authors also answered questions that attendees had about higher education.
The book club was followed by our Writing Workshop. Dr. V dropped all kinds of “trade secrets” as she walked us through her Mosaic for Writing Like A Scholar. What resonated with me most was that my issues, at the intersection of being Black and female, are indeed systemic issues which deserve research and scholarship. I can also choose the audience I write to, for, and with.
We ended the day with attendees sharing their takeaways and meaningful moments of the day. Many of these statements were quotes and gems dropped by the panel, and others were just statements of gratitude for creating such a powerful and fulfilling space.
It was a pleasure to be in community with everyone that attended, and I am so grateful for opportunities like this, to really exercise the purpose and focus of The Scholarly Sewist brand, to center, encourage, and be in community with WOC across the academic universe. I am committed to creating more spaces and experiences, for us and by us. Please reach out if you’d like to collaborate in some way on a future project!
Oh, and to see so much TSS Merch! I literally cannot express in words the amazing feeling of seeing people in my creations. Thank you to all of my PhrienDs and ResearcHERs who logged onto Zoom decked out in ResearcHER and PhemmeD Tees and Sweatshirts.
And special thanks to Dr. Melissa Vang for all of her help behind and in front of the scenes. She definitely helped me along every step of the way, and it was great working with her on this amazing project!
]]>You really can’t fully explain or imagine what it means to get a PhD. If you do it correctly, it changes you. It stretches you and tests you in the most trying ways. Adding to the complexity of the doctoral journey, life outside of academia continues to impact how we experience the doctoral journey. This is particularly true for women. I have known a few women that had one or two babies during their program. Others who decided to take another route, some who got married, and another who battled and beat breast cancer all while writing her dissertation.
What I didn’t know was that during my journey to this terminal degree, I, albeit indirectly, would also be confronted by a terminal illness.
On May 8, 2020, my little brother’s 29th birthday, we urged him to go to the emergency room after experiencing some digestive issues, and a couple of headaches. I’ll spare you the details, and how painstakingly slow the next six days went by. On May 14th he was diagnosed with cancer and my life changed forever. Not just cancer, but Stage IV Colorectal Cancer with Mets. While colon cancer is pretty common in the United States, Stage IV with Mets in a 29 year old otherwise healthy person is very rare. My brother was diagnosed with the same affliction that took the lives of Chadwick Boseman and Natalie Desselle this past year. That week was the worst week of my entire life, and I wasn’t even the patient. I just felt like a piece of heart had broken, and couldn’t be fixed. How could he, the youngest, and by far the healthiest out of all of us, be facing such a serious condition, and during the global punishment where none of us were able to accompany him in the lonely hours of a hospital stay. Fortunately, my parents somehow managed to persuade the hospital to allow them to wait in the waiting room for "our" baby. For that week I couldn’t do anything but worry. Cry. Repeat. Google everything. Sleep. Repeat. That was the first week, (many more to come) that this fucking PhD didn’t matter. It’s in these moments that you take care of yourself and your family first, and get a rude reminder of life priorities, and that cancer doesn’t play fair.
May 24th I flew home. My mom and dad flew me first class (it was during a pandemic so it was mad cheap) to get home. I wore the finest hazmat suit and couldn’t partake in the pre-Corona champagne fanciness that one thinks of in first class.
I arrived in my hometown, was tested for COVID19 on Monday and went to visit my little brother on Saturday. His head was shaved, a decade of locks and his young adult look was gone, and so was some of his happy relationship weight. But my brother was there, and I was so grateful to see him. It was so hard to see him in his current state of being. He moved super slowly, sometimes with a cane, and moved from laying in the bed to laying on the couch. It tore me up inside, but I knew I had to show up as Big Sister Reka for him, and as “the happy child” for my parents. So on top of taking a 4-unit accelerated pace summer course, teaching a new prep Master’s level course, working my summer Graduate Assistant hours, on top of working on two research projects with my professor-friends, I also visited my brother twice a week, filled in when his girlfriend - now fiancée - needed to run out, organized his hospital bills and other logistical tasks, made dinner a few nights a week for my parents, all while trying to completely take in the gut-punch that summer 2020 had offered me. Oh, and trying to be present to a growing relationship with my partner who was now 3000 miles away. And the civil unrest that resulted after George Floyd’s and Breonna Taylor’s death (ARREST THE COPS THAT KILLED BREONNA TAYLOR), and the dismal numbers of coronavirus cases in the United States. Let’s just say it was intense. And I also started a small business called The Scholarly Sewist too.
Where is this peace that God promises?
October 4th I flew back home. A month before my mom and I’s previous agreement for me to return in November. So I packed up and went home for the holidays. There were some great moments and some hard ones. Due to my brother’s inability to work, he lost his government contract job, and by Thanksgiving he and his fiance moved into my parents home. While it was great being able to see my brother daily, not having to worry about him from afar, it also meant I now had a front? row seat to his good days and bad days, and everything in between. On Thanksgiving I witnessed him not being able to enjoy his favorite foods, and even on Christmas day having to take a break in the fun to nap. On another day, I had to pick my brother up off the floor after he had fallen while he was simply just trying to reach for something. But we also had great conversations about future business and travel, whether or not aliens are real, and whether segregation was actually better for Black people, and him schooling me on Tulsa and other facets of Black excellence. Even as his body was again rapidly, and failing him on many occasions, his mind was still there. It was the intellectual connection that we have always shared that bonded us the most.
On Monday January 25th I got a call saying my brother was going to the ER. Three hours later I received a call saying he is going to have emergency surgery. SURGERY? EMERGENCY? All while I am 3000 miles away. The past week had been the worst week of my entire life, and I wasn’t even the patient. I found this feeling settling in again, and I just don’t know if I have the bandwidth to keep having the WORST WEEK EVER. And then the sentiments of melodramatic, selfishness, guilt, emptiness, loneliness, extreme sadness, apathy, anger, confusion, etc. sunk in. I felt like I experienced every possible emotion a human body could handle except for happiness.
So who do you talk to about this? I can’t talk to my mom. I mean sure, I can call her, and cry, and put my load on her, but that seems selfish, as she has to serve as the primary caregiver for my brother. So I pour myself into my work, which thank goodness is somewhat flexible as a doc student. I can’t talk to my boyfriend. Yes, he is great, but when I don’t even know how to show up for myself, I don't know how to show up as a girlfriend. I feel like my resilience and productivity make people think that I am okay. I am not okay. I am falling apart. Unraveling and no one sees it. Two days ago I attended a meeting as a thought partner on a seal of biliteracy initiative at the higher ed level, first of its kind. Yesterday I presented at a Dual Language Conference with my coauthors. Today I cried ALL day long and only left my bed to go to the bathroom and get water. I am not okay.
February 19th began as a normal day. I woke up early, taught my literacy methods course, and then met a friend for a beach walk. I arrived home and received this text from my mom.
“Call me later, around 8pm my time, not before I am busy.” So of course, I called her immediately and after inquiring on why I am so hard-headed, she asked if I had spoken to my brother lately. I speak to him daily, mostly through texts so the flooding overwhelm and fear begin to set in. All while my superhero mother is just cool, calm and collected. I’m like “just tell me. TELL ME NOW.” So she explains to me that the conversation of hospice has come up (again) and Greg is in agreement. I broke down immediately, for 2 mins and then gathered myself. I was not sure if I was in agreement, until later that evening while FaceTiming my brother I was able to get a glimpse of his intermittent pain. I, big sister, waited helplessly as my FaceTime view of my brother’s face quickly switched to the ceiling as he screamed for help. I could only offer words, “I am here, Greg I am still here.” Press your call button. It felt like forever until the nurse finally came to offer him some relief. In that moment I knew I was 100% behind any decision my brother made to relieve himself from months of pain. Although I was behind him and his decision, I knew I was unprepared and distraught as I faced what we all knew was coming.
I was mad, angry, furious, and indignant at God. Why Lord? Why my brother? The only person on the face of the Earth that doesn’t annoy me? Why my only brother? The only person who truly understands and accepts me, and is so easy to talk to because we are so similar?
Still looking, where is this peace that God promises?
So on February 21, I flew back home. My partner came over the night before, washed a load of laundry, and helped me pack and prepare for my flight. It was a restless night as we stayed up late and I had to be at the airport at 5 am. As he pulled up to the departure curb and put the car in park, I lost my shit. My entire body began convulsing, and I started a screaming/crying remix. It was awful. Three minutes later I gathered myself and took the long flight-with-a-layover home. The only time I felt good was when I was asleep. Each wake-up on the plane reminded me where I was going. I was going to watch my brother die. My favorite person in the world. He and his fiancée were supposed to move to San Diego next year. We were supposed to start investing in stocks and real estate together. I was supposed to plan their wedding at Joshua Tree, and we were supposed to visit Greece as I tagged along on the second leg of their honeymoon, and we were planning on traveling to Australia together for my PhD graduation trip. How can I be peaceful when my life plans are forever changed? And then I walked into his room, after an almost irate encounter with the front desk security. He was frail and almost hard to find in the big hospital bed. He had tubes and IVs attached in multiple places. But there he was, my brother, and I was so happy to be by his side. My mom said he hadn’t said more than a few words that day or the day before as they try to figure out the cocktail of drugs to keep him comfortable. But he saw me and his eyes lit up.
My heart skipped a beat, I thought I had missed my opportunity to let him know that I was here.
I am your sister.
Nuh unh.
Open your eyes Greg. (I took off my mask.) You believe me now?
(He opened his eyes wider and cracked a smile.)
Why are you here? I told you, you didn’t have to come.
I know, did you think I was going to listen? I told you I’d be right here by your side.
So we have yet to see what this intermission means for the completion of my terminal degree. In the meantime, I will be here with my family, celebrating life. And while all of this definitely surpasses my understanding, there is a peace that is found when you lean into God during these times.
Have you seen the numbers? In your city or state? At your destination? Have you seen the unsettling uptake in cases, hospitalizations, and deaths since March? Have you read the literature surrounding the current Stay-At-Home orders, and are you aware of the current ICU capacity (or lack thereof). This is a SERIOUS MATTER. If you DO NOT have to fly, I am not at all advising you to do so. However, some of us, during the last (almost) year of quarantines and rising numbers, had to travel. This was my situation and I have been on four cross-country flights, and I did it minimizing risks, and keeping those around me safe. I want to share my process with you in case it may help.
1.) Buying a flightSince the start of the pandemic, there have been plenty of airline deals, which have been enticing to avid travelers like me. The companies also offered no fees for rescheduling or cancellation, so it made it easier to change plans. While you can buy your flight ahead of time, I don’t recommend buying it too early, because it won’t give you a good sense of how packed the flight will be. Also research your airlines. What are they doing for upgraded cleaning protocols? Are they booking to capacity? What percentage? Middle seat open? All of these are factors you should consider.
2.) Prep for your flightYo, have you seen this video? Naomi Campbell has flight prep on lock! I followed her tips for prepping. I ordered this suit. These goggles. Even took extra vitamins and emergenC to prep my body. You should have a separate bag for FLIGHT DAY ESSENTIALS. I love these travel bags.
3.) Travel Day
The airport for me is the worst part. I am just so nervous about the amount of people in the airport, how utterly comfortable everyone else seems. Like why are there so many noses out? Are you all really that hungry that you feel comfortable enough to leisurely eat your meal in this airport? So yes, you can find me on the floor, the only place I can get 6-8 feet of personal space. I also eat very little the day of, to ensure that I do not have to go to the bathroom in the airport or during the flight. I am usually a great traveler, and love the sights from the clouds, but flying during a global pandemic sends my anxiety sky high. I take ZZZquil gummies or Calm gummies to fall fast asleep on the flight.
4.) ArrivalMask up, windows down while transporting to your destination. My dad picked me up from the airport and we both wore our masks. I also sat in the backseat to put as much space as possible between us. I then began my quarantine at my parents’ house. Both of my parents are in their 60s and have preexisting conditions (don’t we all) so safety was super important. Their home has 3 floors, so it was relatively easy to keep my distance from them. I quarantined in a room for about a week and then I went to get tested. I stayed in quarantine and following safety protocols until my test results were in. The best part was that my parents would bring meals and items to the hallway so that I wouldn’t be in the kitchen. I was also able to use a separate bathroom from them during this time. My mom liked to throw items into the room when I needed them, LOL.
5.) TestingSearch the city’s free testing events. I was able to catch an event multiple times. Or go to the city’s health department for testing. CVS and many other pharmacies (RiteAid, Walgreens, depending on your city/state) also offer free testing. Know which test you are getting.
Make it safe, but make it fashion!
I realize I may have gone a bit overboard with my planning and process of flying during a pandemic, but the extreme measures have kept me and my loved ones safe.
So what do you think? Did I over do it? Or will you use these tips?
Stay Safe Phriends and ResearcHERs.
]]>Between my mother’s perfect passion for holiday decor, and my dad’s gift wrapping with the world’s strongest tape, I find myself stuck to the warm memories and nostalgia that being home for the holidays brings about. I also find comfort in my brother and I honoring each other’s quest for minimalism and non-consumerismo approaches to life, yet trying to find the perfect gifts for each other. The holidays bring about a welcome kind of busy, one that completely contrasts from my chaotic life as a doctoral student.
I hear a lot of doctoral students saying that their family “just didn’t understand” and it was really hard to create boundaries of space, time, and expectations during this period of doctoral studies. I was even told of stories from students who wrote a letter to each of their family members and told them not to contact them for a period or time, or not to expect them at Thanksgiving or Christmas while they were in the writing phase. I am not saying that their truths and systems of time management are wrong, I am just saying for me it is different. And most likely it will be different for you too. Especially for those in the social sciences. The higher ed doctorate is somewhat of a new practice. So it is understandable that everyone does not fully understand the structure, like we understand that of residencies and MDs. There are yet to be series and comedies such as Grey’s Anatomy, The Good Doctor, and even Scrubs to give us a glimpse into the lives of future doctors of education (@lenawaite or @ava I’m ready when you are). But that doesn’t mean that we can’t fully include families into our process, our research, and our spaces.
What type of white supremist ideas are we upholding with creating this artificial boundary between family and education? Mary Hamilton’s social context of literacy theory speaks all about the spaces, places, and participants in our literacy upbringings. This article resonated with me as it paid homage to the family work and the home work that goes unnoticed or uncentered as we become consumers of education. Our family participants, whether they hold doctorates or not) are the foundation of our educational success, and they deserve to be a part of our trajectories to our terminal degree accomplishments as well.
Yes, my parents, for the most part, don’t understand. No, it does not bother me one bit.
I actually adore the fact that to my parents, Reka is in school again. This is what she does, she goes to school. She’s smart. I remember during my first semester on a call with my dad…
Dad: uh huh, so you in school again? So when will you be done? In a year?
Me: ummm, no Dad. This degree takes most people four to seven years.
Dad: what???
So with all the hustle and bustle of school, deadlines, reading, writing, and critical analysis, and self-reflection and growth, I love the few days a year where no one cares about my recent cognitive dissonance, and we can plan family holiday meals and Christmas pajamas.
And yes, superficially, they don’t care. I didn’t need an advanced degree to buy their love or attention ever. But they do care that I have found a path that challenges me and creates a space that I get to travel and teach - two of my passions fulfilled. My mom and I watch Real Housewives of Potomac, and talk about my similarities to Dr. Wendy and her four degrees. They celebrated with me when my first article came out, and when they sport their own PhemmeD and ResearcHER paraphernalia. The so called #ivorytower tries to keep families out of this academic journey by creating these false borders, however, we, especially as WOC in the academic space are doing this work to be inclusive, to make space and incite change for others, while bringing family and friends along.
Being in my hometown, being able to come off the rollercoaster of the first fully virtual semester, with the warmth and calm of hometown views is everything I need to reset for next semester, and all the peaks and valleys it comes with.
There is something so special about being home for the holidays.
Real life happens daily, even while doing your Ph.D. This year that lesson has resonated heavily with me, so I want to remind you to stop and smell the poinsettias, drink the hot chocolate, and cherish the moments with your family. The manuscripts and focus groups can wait.
Happy Holidays to you and yours!
]]>When I was in my 20’s I fantasized about moving abroad. I dreamed about moving to a Spanish-speaking country, spending my days at the beach, dancing my nights to salsa or bachata, and regaining fluency of the first language I ever learned. I spent so much time researching ways to move abroad. Looking for companies or people that could help me achieve my dream. I didn’t know what to look for or who to ask and I cursed myself for not learning about the wonderful world of study abroad until after college. I would start applications for jobs in the Dominican Republic, or Spain, or Colombia, but I never got around to completing them and taking the first step towards my dream.
The truth was: I was afraid to move out on my own. How do 20 years olds do that anyway? I always commend the young people I meet in my life that just go for it. I didn’t have it in me. I was freakin’ scared! I wanted it so bad, but the world of the unknown always won and I never submitted any of the applications I started. I did take baby steps in the right direction by moving around to different states in my 20’s and 30’s (VA→ DC→ NYC→ LA). Still, I never let go of my dream (and fears) to live abroad.
So what motivated me to finally move out of the US at 32? Of course, heartbreak. That’ll do it. The break up sucked and unavoidable circumstances had me reliving it for some time afterwards. I just wanted an escape. I needed time away from the places and things that reminded me of hurtful memories. And I wanted to do something great for myself. I deserved it! I deserved to be happy. So I told myself the same thing I told myself when I decided my big 2013 move to New York City, “Go. You can always come back if you don’t like it, but you WILL regret never going.” So in August 2019, I left.
I spent 13 months in Seoul, South Korea. Not at all the Spanish-speaking, salsa-dancing, beachy country I had envisioned all these years, but the graduate student loans (I hate those so much) looming over me scared me in that direction. Life in South Korea was good. The teaching job was not bad and it allowed me to live comfortably and pay my monthly student loans. I was also able to save money on top of that. I was able to visit Japan and Taiwan before Covid-19 hit. I also felt safe in South Korea once the virus did make it worldwide.
So what did I enjoy about my time living in South Korea? A lot, but here’s a few of my favorites.
I loved living in a big city with affordable rent. My studio was small (not tiny), but it had everything I needed. Minus an oven, I sure did miss having one during my time in Seoul.
I loved the convenient and reliable public transportation. Buses and trains that could take me anywhere in the city. The bus drivers scared me sometimes, but they were always on time.
I loved convenient stores with outside seating so you and your friends could sit out all night and drink cheap beers or soju (Korean alcohol) while people-watching in the busiest of streets.
I loved Korean fashion! If you want to see some of the best dressed women and men, you have to go to Seoul.
I can’t forget about the food. Korean BBQ is my favorite by far, but there is also kimchi jjigae, samgyetang, dakgalbi, bibimbap, and gimbap! You have to try them all. I probably ate gimbap for lunch every day for a month, maybe three.
The nightlife was poppin’ pre-Covid. My favorite places to party were in Hongdae and Itaewon. I spent plenty of weekends watching the sunrise with friends at bars there. And yes, I even made Korean friends that spoke fluent Spanish and danced salsa and bachata with me! Who woulda thunk it?!
What I loved most about living in Seoul were the friends that I made. The people that helped me while on my journey. The ones that got me through the hard times that come with living so far away from home. The ones that introduced me to K-Pop (no, I didn’t know about it before moving). Those I spent holidays with and traveled around Korea with. Friends that still write in our old group chats so I still feel included even though I’m no longer living in Seoul. They were the best part of my life there. I am grateful to have met them.
So, yes, I am so glad I moved to South Korea. No, it wasn’t my dream country and I realized halfway into my life there that I would not stay long-term, but I finally made my dream of living abroad come true! I did it. Even through my fears, I spent a year, on my own, in a different country. And I want to do it again! Two months into my move back to Los Angeles, and I’m still dreaming about it. Maybe it’s because I’m crazy, or restless, or bored, or any other reason that doesn’t really matter, but I want to do it again! And maybe I will! Because if there’s anything we have learned during this pandemic, it's that life is short. We’ve got to wash our hands, wear our masks, practice social distancing, and do whatever the heck makes us happy in our lives. Right now! I definitely don’t want to wait until my 40’s to do this again.
So now I ask you what are your dreams? What thing will make you happy? I say you make a plan and just do it already! Fears and all.
]]>October 11, 2019, a phone call from the breast care clinic confirmed that the lump I had found in my left breast – 7 months after a clear mammogram – was malignant. At the time, I was a doctoral candidate in SDSU/CGU’s Joint Degree Program in Education, striving to complete the rough draft of my dissertation by the January 7 deadline.
The call came when I was in Los Angeles for work and I spent the three hour drive back to San Diego in silent shock. My first thoughts went to my husband Joel, and daughter Anna, and then to my mother, who had lost our beloved father to laryngeal cancer twenty years ago: how in the world would I tell them I have cancer? What would this diagnosis mean for Joel? With no family history of breast cancer until now, what would this diagnosis mean for Anna? How would I continue to earn an income while in treatment? And, what would this mean for my dissertation-writing timeline? Could I stay on track to become a May 2020 graduate? If I did not finish my dissertation, would Anna know how much my love for her inspired my doctoral studies?
A whirlwind of medical appointments filled the dates in my calendar reserved for dissertation writing. Joel and Anna encouraged me to continue to work on my dissertation. A network of incredible women – including several cancer survivors – immediately blanketed me with support. Two of the cancer survivors were PhDs and one quipped,
“Fighting cancer is hard. Writing a dissertation is hard. You might as well do both at once!”
Treatment of my Stage III-B invasive lobular carcinoma with lymph node involvement would require a lumpectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. I wrestled with sharing my diagnosis with my dissertation chair because I did not want cancer to enter my academic world. She reassured me that she believed in my study and in my ability to persevere.
After a lumpectomy on November 13, a day after my 51st birthday, we were devastated when my surgeon called to report the margins were not clear. The cancer was more extensive than expected, leading to a mastectomy the day before Thanksgiving. When I thanked my surgeon for adjusting her holiday plans she said, “You have a dissertation to write, don’t you? We don’t have time to waste.”
My oncologist warned chemotherapy can cause “chemo brain,” which is cancer-related cognitive impairment or dysfunction. During the three weeks between surgery and my first chemo infusion on December 18, I wrote detailed outlines of chapters 4 and 5, afraid chemo would impair my ability to grapple with the analysis and implications of my findings. I spent New Year’s Day receiving my second chemo infusion and the days that followed were a blur that included Joel and Anna shaving my head because losing clumps of hair was distracting me as I wrote. Submitting the dissertation draft on January 7 felt like an unbelievable achievement! A few weeks later, I attended a dissertation writing bootcamp at SDSU on one of the “good days” of my chemo recovery cycle. Even though I felt vulnerable in my wig, I knew I needed the spark of motivation that comes from writing in the same space with fellow doctoral students. That spark propelled me forward to meet the February 7 deadline to turn in my final draft.
All doctoral candidates know how tricky it is to schedule a dissertation defense and I admit I played my one and only “cancer card,” giving my chair permission to share my diagnosis with my committee members to get my dissertation defense scheduled for one of the “good days” between chemo rounds 6 and 7. My oncologist moved up a scheduled blood transfusion to the weekend before my defense to strengthen my immune system and boost my energy.
On March 6, 2020, I successfully defended my dissertation with my mother, mother-in-law, aunt, husband, daughter, and doctoral student friend in attendance and celebrated that evening surrounded by family and friends. Little did we know, for many of us, my dissertation defense party would be the last in-person gathering before the pandemic started shutting the world down over the course of the next week.
In late March, I rang the bell to celebrate my final chemo treatment, in May I wore full doctoral regalia to my virtual SDSU and CGU Zoom commencement celebrations in my dining room with Joel and Anna sitting by my side, and in June I rang the bell to celebrate the completion of radiation and cancer treatment.
In retrospect, the decision to work on my dissertation throughout chemo saved my cognition and prevented me from being overwhelmed by everything associated with a cancer diagnosis. I am grateful that my surgeon, oncologist, and radiation oncologist are highly successful women in their fields who unhesitatingly supported my goal. I am forever grateful for the love and support of my family and friends that allowed me to escape into a world where I could block out cancer and, instead, focus on dyslexia research and dissertation writing.
As you know, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. My cancer is considered “interval cancer,” or cancer that is found within the time between annual mammograms. I am alive with an excellent prognosis because at age 14 I learned why and how to do monthly self-breast exams. Please, I urge you to do the same.
]]>Reka is both a doctoral student and a Lecturer at San Diego State University. She teaches Literacy Methods for teacher credential candidates and Visualizing College for undergraduate students. Prior to her doctoral studies she obtained a Bachelor of Psychology and a Master of Teaching at The Scholarly Sewist. She then spent ten years as an elementary classroom teacher in dual language and inner-city classrooms. Her research interests include dual language education and educational experiences of Black students via multimodal research methods. Reka is the Founder and Creative Director of The Scholarly Sewist.
David is a Tony Gaskins certified life coach and brand strategist working at the intersection of self love and entrepreneurship. With over a decade of experience in interactive media design, he is an interdisciplinary creator with an eye for personal branding and self-expression. The application of his creative expertise ranges, from consulting small businesses to branding award-winning musical acts. As an alumni of the San Diego School of Creative & Performing Arts and board member with the Friends of SCPA, David's educational background is firmly rooted in the creative space. David is the Graphic Designer & Brand Strategist for The Scholarly Sewist.
Charisse is a postdoctoral scholar and former Neuroplasticity of Aging Fellow at UC San Diego. Her research focuses on Alzheimer’s disease (AD) pathogenesis and identify blood-based biomarkers for early AD diagnosis. In addition to her research, Charisse teaches at University of San Diego and Southwestern College as an Adjunct Faculty member and Work Based Learning Coordinator. Charisse desires to cultivate a new generation of future scientists and serves as the ResearcHER Liaison for The Scholarly Sewist.
Melissa Vang (she/her/hers) is an educational and social science scholar on equity, diversity, and inclusion issues related to organizational practice and racial and ethnic identity. Melissa earned her doctorate in Education with an emphasis in Higher Education and Student Affairs from San Diego State University and Claremont Graduate University. Her recent research examined the influence of organizational climate on the ethnic and racial identity of Hmong American students using multimodality methods. Outside of research and higher education, she enjoys finding deals on timeless fashion pieces to add to her collection and she serves as the Creative Consultant for The Scholarly Sewist.
Susana is passionate about education, traveling, and technology. She received her Bachelors of Arts in Psychology at the University of Virginia and her Masters of Education in Postsecondary Administration and Student Affairs at the University of Southern California. College is a special experience and her desire is to help students take advantage of all the opportunities available to them during this time. Susana has traveled to over 15 countries, most recently she spent a year teaching English in Seoul, South Korea to elementary and middle school students. While there, she taught herself the fundamental skills of coding and serves as the Web Designer for The Scholarly Sewist.
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Over 15 years ago, I walked the grounds of The University of Virginia during Move-In Weekend. I was embarking on my college experience at the #1 public university. I thought I would major in accounting and be a tax attorney. I wanted to only have to work during tax season and spend my seven months off reading up on tax law on a beach. Clearly, I didn’t research that career option enough, and when I saw the rate at which my peers were failing ECON 201 (the weeder class for the McIntire School of Commerce) I knew that path was not for me. By the end of my first semester, Psych 101 was the only course that really excited me, so I decided to be a psych major. I figured I still had time to figure out the rest of this thing called life and adulthood later.
It was at the beginning of my second year that I heard about the dual-degree program offered by the Curry School of Education. “Two degrees in five years? Be more marketable than my peers with just a Bachelors?” I thought to myself, and myself said, “SIGN ME UP!” By the end of the first week of my first class, I knew that I was destined and called to be a teacher. I don’t know if it was the enthusiasm of Dr. Stephen Plaskon that excited me, the manipulatives that I could play with in our hands-on classes, or the reality that I was one of the only Black students in the class, which was way too representative of the k12 teacher cohort. I am not sure if it was one, or all of these components that fueled the passion and desire to be the best elementary school teacher I could be. I also knew, even then, that I wasn’t going to be in a classroom forever, but that I would forever be an educator.
I graduated from the University of Virginia with a Bachelor of Psychology and a Master of Teaching. Back then I had no sights or aspirations of any additional degrees. I was the undergrad who used to say “I ain’t writing nobody’s book. Why would I elect to do that much work?” And here I am over a decade later putting countless hours of reading, writing, research, teaching, and service into my doctoral journey to hopefully write MY book (the dissertation) and be able to attain a Ph.D. I am now entering my third year of my PhD program in Southern California. To say that it is surreal is an understatement. So I am here, the former reluctant scholar, diving head first into the second half of my Ph.D. program, during a global pandemic, civil rights and racial justice movement, via virtual learning. Wish me luck and stay tuned!
I learned to sew when I was about 8 or 9 years old. My mother taught me how to sew as it was her passion. She graduated with a Bachelor Degree in Fashion Merchandising and was at the top of her design classes. I, on the other hand, wanted to cut corners and just get it done. Needless to say, I was not patient enough to become the perfectionist my mother was. So I made and altered a few simple things during my childhood, but that was about it. After college, Project Runway became weekly hangouts for my mother and me, and I began sewing a bit more. My mother purchased the Project Runway Edition Sewing Machine for me, and I began to take on small, infrequent projects. I still wouldn’t consider myself a sewist until years later.
It wasn’t until 2014 that I fell in love with sewing. I was experiencing my WORST year of teaching. I had the most difficult class, I was prized as the teacher who could teach all students. I was the one that had the best classroom management, so therefore someone in administration decided to give me all of the students pegged as behavior concerns. With no support. It was rough, to say the least. So, I reluctantly went to school each day and still gave my all. Then I would return home to sew. It was this year that sewing became my happy place. I wanted to quit that year, but as hard as it was, I still loved my job and my school. So I started an afterschool club that taught 2nd-5th graders how to sew. I figured that even if I didn’t have a good day at work, my after-school sewing club would bring me joy. And it did.
In one year, my after-school club grew from 4 students to 24 students and my happiness grew as well. To be able to share more than literacy and social studies with students, especially girls, was heartwarming. It only took a few classes for me to learn that it was about so much more than sewing. It was about stitching empowerment and worth into young girls. I was watching girls leave the sewing club with an air of confidence that was contagious, a growing self-worth, and outstanding problem-solving and critical thinking skills in addition to custom made fashionable garments.
I was always interested in the world around me, both near and far. However, it wasn’t until I was 18 years old that I boarded my first airplane. I tagged along on my best friend’s family trip and went to New Orleans. It was a fantastic trip, seeing a place I had only heard about or seen referenced in TV and film, and I vowed to continue traveling. I thoroughly enjoy flying too, although travel days can get long and exhausting. There is something so exhilarating yet calming about being amongst the clouds. I felt at peace, and instantly knew that I had found one of my life’s happy places, and travel has become more than a hobby and a passion, but one of my life’s core values.
Every trip, small and big, has taught me something new, about myself, my home, and the world. Since that first trip, I have visited the vast majority of the United States and have visited over ten countries and three continents. I had no intentions of slowing down. In fact, 2020 was supposed to be my year. In January, I already had flights planned for every month through September and was already plotting October through December. Well, COVID19 had other plans for my itinerary, and the world’s for that matter.
]]>After reflecting on your journey to this point, how do you define yourself? What are those core components that make you YOU?