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Tag Archives: family

from the neighborhood: 4-H VPs

07 Monday Mar 2011

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in a sense of place

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boston, domesticity, family, from the neighborhood, hanna

This passed Saturday, Hanna volunteered as a judge for one of the local 4-H clubs’ Visual Presentations competitions. Hanna used to do 4-H as a child in Maine, and a colleague at Countway roped her into getting involved in the day’s activities. I tagged along as the driver (and last-minute door monitor).

Audience members listen to a young Junior class (ages 8-13) presenter
Hanna (in blue sweater) takes notes on a presentation

There’s already been talk of Hanna joining the advisory committee … so there may be more 4-H in our near future. I promise if I come across any bunnies I will photograph them and provide pictures here on the blog!

the language of love

14 Monday Feb 2011

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in our family

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books, domesticity, family, holidays

This one’s for Hanna.

They smiled, comforted, joyful, trembling, certain that they would never settle for a brief
adventure, because they were born to share life in its totality and to undertake together the
audacity of loving each other forever.

~ Isabel Allende, Of Love and Shadows (126).

frabjous (snow) day!

12 Wednesday Jan 2011

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in Uncategorized

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boston, domesticity, family, outdoors

Thanks to a lovely winter storm, Hanna and I both have the day off from our respective places of work today. I’m working at home on the laptop in my pajamas (reading Juliet Nicholson’s The Perfect Summer and Judith Warner’s Perfect Madness while we wait for the power to come back on) … makes me feel so grown-up! And even better, Hanna made us carob chip muffins :). Here are some of her photographs of the Grand Weather Event.

Our power went out for several hours last night;
luckily our stove is gas-powered so we could make
supper anyway! (And enjoy pre-dinner wine.)

Our street, with falling snow taken by Hanna just before the power went
out for about six hours.

$1 reviews: tassajara bread book (in pictures)

04 Tuesday Jan 2011

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in book reviews

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domesticity, family, fun, photos

Last week, while on our winter vacation, Hanna and I went down to the Brattle and picked up a whole stack of books from the $1 cart. One of them was a much-used paperback copy of the 1970s classic Tassajara Bread Book, published by the San Francisco Zen Center.  This is a cookbook along the lines of the Moosewood cookbooks or Diet for a Small Planet: the hand-drawn illustrations are whimsical and the descriptions all sound vaguely as if they were written while the authors were slightly high. A recipe for alfalfa ice cream: “Take it like you find it, or leave it like it is.” For “Oriental” spice muffins: “Inscrutable.” For unkneaded unyeasted bread: “Never made this, but it must be all right.”

And all of the quantities would feed an army. The recipe we ended up making (bagels) we halved and still ended up with two dozen fist-sized bagels.

None of this detracts from the tastyness of the recipes therein, at least to judge by the two we have made thus far: Egg Bagels (#55) and Cheesecake Bar Cookies (#83).  The bagels don’t have a very springy bagel texture on the inside, but are a lovely bread regardless — and fairly easy to boil and bake. They also taste nice reheated in oven or toaster for breakfast or teatime.

TASSAJARA EGG BAGELS

Halved from original; makes 24 small bagels

Sponge:
1 1/2 cups warm water
1/2 Tbl yeast
1/4 cup sugar or honey
3 whole eggs, well beaten
3 cups flour (I used 1 cup white, 2 cups multigrain)

Stage two ingredients:
2-3 cups flour
1/2 cup oil
1/2 Tbl salt

1. Whisk together warm water, yeast and sugar until dissolved. Add in eggs and flour to make a thick muddy “sponge.”

2. Cover the sponge with another 1-2 cups flour (from “stage two” ingredients) and cover the bowl with a towl. Place in a warm, sheltered location (i.e. inside an unheated oven) for about 50 minutes so yeast can ferment.

3. After rising, fold in oil, salt, and work in remaining flour, kneading well until dough comes together away from the sides of the bowl.

4. Cover and let rise for 50 minutes. Punch down and knead lightly.

5. Let rise 20 minutes.

6. Punch down, knead lightly and cut in half. Set half the dough aside and divide the remaining half into half again, then each half into six equal pieces for a total of twelve lumps of dough. Roll each lump into a worm and then pinch the ends together to form rings. (The wider the rings, the more likely you’ll end up with bagel shapes rather than buns!)

7. Boil the rings of dough in water for 10 seconds each (the bagels will float to the top of the water, making it easier to scoop them out) and place on a pan either greased or dusted with cornmeal to reduce sticking.

8. Rest bagels for 20 minutes under a towl while oven heats to 425 degrees (Fahrenheit).

9. Bake bagels for 20 minutes or until the tops are golden brown.

"negotiation and compromise": reflections on my childhood outside of school

08 Wednesday Dec 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in life writing

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Tags

children, domesticity, education, family, human rights, work-life balance

It seems fitting, in this last week of formal coursework in pursuit of my Master’s in Library Science, that I take some time out to reflect on a very different experience: that of growing up for the first seventeen years of my life outside of formal institutions of schooling. Those of you who follow my blog probably know that cultures of schooling, education, and learning are a topic of scholarly and personal concern to me. As I wrote on Saturday, Idzie @ I’m Unschooled. Yes I Can Write is running a series of interviews with grown unschoolers about their experience learning outside of school. I took some time out from wrapping up my coursework last week (read: spent time procrastinating like it was going out of style!) to respond to her questions. And yesterday Idzie published my responses.



Glen Nevis, West Highlands, Scotland (May 2004)

Since I thought many of my readers would be interested in my responses, I’m cross-posting what I wrote here. But if you enjoy what you read, do check out Idzie’s blog since she publishes lots of awesome stuff — and promises an ongoing series of similar interviews.

The Basics

When did you become an unschooler?
birth (1981) and/or first year I was school age (1987)

How long have you/did you unschool?
Difficult question! I still think of myself as practicing the values of unschooling, even though I have had interactions with formal education and its institutions. I did not attend grade or secondary school at all (though my siblings did to varying degrees). I began taking courses at the college where my father worked when I was seventeen and continued there part time through 2005; until 2002 I was not a degree-seeking student, though I did take the courses for credit. During the seven years I pursued undergraduate coursework, I did lots of other things too, like work and travel. Since completing my B.A. I’ve moved on to graduate school (more below). However, I still feel very much an unschooler at heart.

How old are you now?
29, nearly 30.

The Decision to Unschool

If your parents chose unschooling, do you know how/why they made that decision?
My mother was, I think, the initiator of home-based education, since she was the primary at-home parent and also very interested in child development and early childhood education. She always preferred non-interventionist approaches, and when it came time to think about schooling for us kids she felt we were doing really well in our current environment — and that the schooling opportunities in our area were too conventional for our family’s needs. My father was completely on board with it, even though he usually took a back seat with the home-life arranging, given he was the parent with a full-time job.

My parents are not categorically opposed to working with formal institutions of learning. My father works at Hope College (where I eventually attended classes) and my siblings both expressed a desire to do some measure of formal schooling during their teen years. My brother attended some courses at the local public school, although he never enrolled as a degree-seeking student, and my sister went full-time to public high school. But the focus throughout was what worked best for our family as a whole and for each of us kids individually.

The Best and Worst

What do you think the best thing about unschooling is?
Speaking from the point of view of a unschooled child (rather than an unschooling parent), I would say that the experience of unschooling helped me to remain confident in myself: confident that I had the ability to learn new ideas and skills when I need them, confident I could find meaningful ways to occupy myself without a strict schedule, confident that I could navigate the world and find help when I needed it from people with particular expertise, or whom I had caring relationships with.

The worldview of unschoolers draws (in my opinion) on a specific understanding of human nature that is at odds with the beliefs of the dominant culture. In order to really practice unschooling, you have to trust in the human being to be interested in the world, to seek situations (physical, social, intellectual) in which that being will thrive in community with other beings. You have to trust that the being themselves — not external authorities — are the best source of information about what the being needs to thrive. Not to say that external feedback and expertise isn’t helpful — it’s often crucial. But at the end of the day, the individual themselves is the best authority on, well, themselves. And on what they need to feel nourished.

In society as a whole, children aren’t trusted to have that kind of knowledge about themselves. In part because children do often think and communicate in different ways than adults, given their stage of development, so children’s self-knowledge is often difficult for adults to access. But it’s there if we know how and where to look! And unschooling teaches us to cultivate that awareness in ourselves and others.

What do you think the worst (or most difficult) thing about unschooling is?
The most stressful thing about practicing unschooling in our culture is that it really is fundamentally counter-cultural. It challenges many of the hidden assumptions of our society about human nature, the nature of children, the purpose of education, the meaning of the “good life,” and so forth. I, personally, think people who unschool are on a much healthier track (by and large) than people who do not, because of their values and their orientation toward the world and the rest of humanity. But there’s definitely a cultural dissonance between the life we wish to lead as unschoolers, and the world in which we have to carve a space for ourselves beyond our families. It requires constant negotiation and compromise.

Beyond High School

Did you decide to go/are you going to college or university? If so, could you talk a bit about that experience?
I did go to college, both undergraduate and (currently) a graduate program. It’s always difficult to talk “a bit” about the experience, since my interest as an historian in counter-cultural education means I spent a lot of my waking moments thinking about the culture of institutional schooling, of teaching and learning, and about how “education” is framed in our contemporary cultural debates.

Casting my mind back to age seventeen, when I enrolled in my first college course — a first-year writing course — I remember how thrilling it was to be engaged in writing and thinking about ideas. At that point I wanted to be a creative writer and developed an enormous crush on my professor, a poet and photographer who had that rare ability to read one’s writing and discern what you meant to say, even if your early drafts were hopelessly muddled. At the same time, I felt like a foreign exchange student, struggling to assimilate to the academic culture that was invisible to most of my classmates. I cold be exhausting and isolating. The fact I was a politically and culturally progressive-radical student on a campus dominated by politically and culturally conservative students didn’t help to bridge the gap between me and conventionally-schooled peers. Nor did the fact I was a part-time, commuter student on a campus dominated by full-time, resident students.

I did not struggle with the coursework much at all. In the early years, I took courses that interested me without a thought toward graduation. Later on, when I was fulfilling requirements, I did take classes that were in subjects not of my instinctive interest (I wept through a one-month class in statistics, for example) … but by conventional measures (i.e., grades) I succeeded in conventional education despite my lack of formal training up to that point. And undergraduate college unquestionably opened doors for me — intellectually, socially, geographically — that might have been more difficult to open otherwise. I had access to off-campus programs and study abroad opportunities; I had faculty-student research opportunities and professors who I connected with and library resources, etc. The same can be said, to some extent, for my graduate work. The classes themselves have often been frustrating, inefficient, etc. But given the organization of our culture’s learning resources at institutions of education, it’s difficult to piece together a similar experience without being an enrolled student.

Difficult, but not impossible.

I never completely made peace with the structured nature of academic semesters, graded projects, competitive learning, being judged by external rather than internal expectations. It stressed me out on a pretty deep level; makes me feel like I’m complicit in a system that rewards some at the expense of the rest. which is something I have problems with, even if (especially if??) I’m one of those who gets rewarded. It’s complicated. I’m definitely looking forward to being done with formal academics for a while after I complete my current program (a dual-degree in library science and history).

Money Earning and Work

Are you currently earning money in any way?
Yes.

What jobs/ways of earning money do you, and have you, had?
Oh, gosh. I’ve been earning money since I was about nine. I started working seasonally for my father at the college bookstore he manages for pocket money and stayed there on and off throughout college. I also worked at a local children’s bookstore and a branch of Barnes & Noble. I did childcare as a teenager and worked one year as a nanny. I’ve served as teaching and research assistants for a number of college faculty. I spent a semester working as an office assistant for a study abroad program. I’ve also done a number of work-for-food-and-lodging type situations, sometimes in combination with other paid work and sometimes for short stints alone … like the month I spent at a women’s land trust in Missouri the summer after graduating from college.

When I moved to Boston, I was hired as a library assistant at the Massachusetts Historical Society, an independent research library in Boston that holds rare books and manuscript materials. It’s a wonderful way of being connected to a scholarly community without being tied to a college or university setting. For the past three years, I’ve worked there part time along with other part-time employment (in the field) and internships. I was just recently offered a promotion to full-time with enough wages and benefits to support remaining in Boston for the next few years, as my partner and I would like to do. It pays modestly well, and is definitely the type of work I was hoping to find when I began graduate school in library science.

Have you found work that’s fulfilling and enjoyable?
I won’t pretend that my partner and I don’t struggle with the question of balancing the need to earn wages to support ourselves in the short and long term. My partner, who also learned outside of school for much of her life (until going to public high school) resists, as do I, a culture that equates paid employment with identity and fulfillment. On the one hand, I do believe in seeking out ways to earn a living doing what you love … but I also resist creating a situation in which my life is defined by the work I do, or dictated by it. So that’s an ongoing balancing act. Even without children to care for, I find myself more and more appalled at how little flexibility our modern workplaces have for the rhythms of personal and family life.

Have you found that unschooling has had an impact on how hard or easy it is to get jobs or earn money?
This is a tricky question. I was very privileged in that I had a chance to work in the “family business” as a child and teenager prior to getting other jobs. Not being in school meant, too, that I could work in positions that school schedules could not accommodate easily, and gain really good work experience even before I started college. I had extensive volunteer experience, too, that filled out my resume. Another privilege was the fact that my father’s job at the college meant I got tuition benefits and could take classes without applying for a degree. By the time I petitioned to be a degree-seeking student I had a strong enough academic record they waived the requirements of national test scores or a high school diploma (a stumbling block for some unschoolers seeking to enter higher education). I have not felt limited by my lack of formal schooling pre-college. I do wish, sometimes, I had been braver about seeking alternatives to college and post-graduate schooling. I was tired of the effort it takes to forge the nonconventional path. And there are days when I’m not proud of that.

Do you feel that unschooling has had an impact on what methods of earning money or jobs you’re drawn to?
In a word: yes. In a few more words, I would argue that the worldview lying behind (my understanding of) unschooling supports de-emphasizing wage-work as either the primary mode of self-identification or as a measure of self-worth. Since unschooling encourages self-reliance and independence, being able to support myself — or, now, to contribute to the financial security of my newly-formed family — is a part of how I measure my success. However, it is one small part of my self-evaluation, all of which comes down to challenging myself to live in accordance with my values. Which would take a lot more than this questionnaire to explicate in depth! But in short, they can be summed up with the belief that all that 1) all life is of value, and 2) all that is required of humanity is “to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly.” (The original quote comes from the Christian Old Testament, Micah 6:8, and reads “walk humbly with God,” but I prefer leaving the question of whom or what one walks with up to the listener!)

General

What impact do you feel unschooling has had on your life?
The experience of growing up outside of the mainstream educational system colors virtually everything I do and the way I understand the world. I think it particularly shapes how I understand myself in relation to the mainstream culture and ways of thinking and being in the world. My family didn’t opt out of the mainstream to the extent that some unschooling families do: we had a television, we lived in an urban environment, we had friends who were schooled and so forth. We weren’t insulated from the mainstream and from the outside — except for the fact that we didn’t attend school — our family didn’t look that radical. But we were pretty damn radical anyway! So what I learned, growing up, was that individuals and families have choices. We can stand apart from some of the mainstream “common sense” beliefs about how people should grow and learn, what it means to be a functioning adult, what it means to be a family — but we don’t have to seek “purity” in pursuit of that. We can pick and choose, appropriate, make our own meanings of things, piecing together a life out of what we find to be beautiful and useful. It’s sort of a steampunk ethos, I guess.

If you could go back in time, is there anything about your learning/educational journey that you’d change?
I really wish I had been able to find practical alternatives to graduate school that gave me the same opportunities in the library/scholarly fields I’m interested in. Unfortunately library and archives training in the US takes place in the context of higher education, and most living-wage positions with opportunities for professional growth require an MLS.

If you were to have children, would you choose to unschool them?
I just recently read a blog post by Molly @ first the egg called parenting as holding the space in which she talks about how she and her husband don’t practice according to any particular parenting philosophy but that she’s come to realize that the way they parent is akin to the way in which doulas are trained to “hold the space” for women in labor. She writes, “the basic idea is that a calm, focused, loving person can protect a space in which the laboring/birthing person can do what she needs to do.” I think this is a really nice one-line description of what parents can and should provide their children — regardless of whether the decide they want (or are practically able) to unschool their children.

My partner and I are pretty sure we are not going to be parents, for a complex constellation of reasons. I won’t speak for her in this instance, but in my case I don’t want to have children unless I am able to unschool them — in spirit if not by actually keeping them out of institutional education altogether. I don’t want to take on a responsibility that I don’t have the resources — emotional, logistical, financial — to really follow through on according to my values. And my values would demand giving that small person in my care as much calm, focused loving as I could — and trying to surround them with adults and other young people who could support me, my partner, and our child(ren) in that endeavor. And right now we aren’t in a place to do that.

Advice

What advice would you give to teens looking to leave high school? What advice would you give to someone looking to skip, or to drop out of, college or university?
Since I didn’t ever leave high school and eventually ended up completing university and going on to do post-graduate work, I’m not sure how much I can speak to this. However, I would say this: in my experience, it pays to reject either/or thinking and be creative about how you use your available resources.

What advice would you give to unschooling parents (or parents looking into unschooling)?
In addition to what I wrote above about “holding the space,” I think it’s important — with all childcare, but particularly with unschooling — to emphasize that the choices you make about family life effect outcomes. That may sound elementary, but I’ve seen a lot of nominally “unschooling” or homeschooling families where the parents really, really want their kids to look and act like, and hold the same values, as their conventionally-schooled peers. Or even worse, they expect them to be conventional-PLUS: they think that unschooling their kids are going to make them even more successful than their peers by all the mainstream cultural standards.

It’s not an impossible goal … and it’s not that I think having goals and accomplishing them is a bad thing. But the “conventional-plus” approach to unschooling is, to my mind, a really impoverished approach … because it leaves behind the really radical aspect of unschooling, which is to question the foundational values of American culture concerning human nature, what it means to be a successful human being, what you need to thrive in the world, and how human relationships facilitate that process. If I had to offer advice in a nutshell to unschooling parents, it would be: Expect different outcomes — and try not to be afraid of them. Be clear about what your own values for “the good life” are and share them with your children, and then let your kids develop their own values from that foundation.

Also, don’t encourage your kids to see mainstream culture or conventional schooling as evil. There are good people who teach in schools, there are good people who send their children there, and there are children who thrive despite the many problems of institutional schooling. I’ve seen too many unschooling families turn their personal and familial choices into an “us vs. them” negativity that doesn’t encourage building alliances, accessing resources, and remembering to seek out support and learning in even the most unexpected places. Encourage your kids to remain open-minded about the mainstream, even as you challenge them to engage with it critically.

Is there anything else you’d like to talk about or add?
I think I’ve already said way more than is reasonable in terms of a blog post, so I’ll leave it there. Thanks so much for the opportunity to share my thoughts on being a grown unschooler and I look forward to reading what others have to say in response to these questions!

saturday smut: missing Aberdeen (and winter snow)

04 Saturday Dec 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in a sense of place

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british isles, family, outdoors, photos

As I’m writing this it’s Friday night of a really long, long week … the penultimate week of my semester in which all my projects were wrapping up and life just generally felt like one damn thing after another.

And then I found these lovely photographs made available online at The Scotsman (Edinburgh), snapshots taken by Scots from around the country documenting the wild winter weather they’ve been having in Britain this week. Since it’s December 3rd here in Boston and we’ve yet to see a single flake of snow (though the forecasters promise some Monday), I’m going to indulge in a little winter weather photo porn.

Enjoy!

Kildrummy, Aberdeenshire (by Darren)
Balerno (by Alan Macmillan)
Christmas Fair, Princes Street Gardens, Edinburgh (by Sarah McPhee)
Newtongrange (by S. Robert)
Sheep in the Borders (John Peters)

Click through to see all the rest in four parts at The Scotsman’s website.

happy thanksgiving day, one and all

25 Thursday Nov 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in our family

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domesticity, family, feminism, holidays

 

Mostly, this year, I’m thankful for a long weekend at home with Hanna and Geraldine. As I’m typing this, we’re hanging out on the couch with half an eye toward the Thanksgiving day parade, catching up on our leisure reading and looking forward to the arrival of our friend Ashley for tofurky dinner.

And ’cause this is the Future Feminist Librarian-Activist, I wanted to note that I woke up this morning to the voice on WGBH (our local NPR station) saying, “It’s Thanksgiving morning, and your work in the kitchen is almost done Moms!” ’cause clearly “Moms” are the only people capable of putting together a Thanksgiving meal. (As Hanna said, “Well, in my house it was always my dad!”)

And it might just be because I don’t often watch network television, and rarely morning television — not to mention on a treacly American holiday — but wow. The narratives of consumption, “family,” all revolving around gender roles, is front and center. In a train-wreaky sort of way.

Not that the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade has ever been about anything but consumption. But it’s fascinating to see how that’s all packaged in the mainstream, completely bland-yet-powerful cultural frames of family (Victoria’s Secret models gushing about the newfound bliss of motherhood), nationalism (yes, for those of you who were listening, Colin Quinn did liken the parade to the Nuremberg Rallies) and relentless consumption. Also, this is the first time in a while I’ve actually been witness to a critical mass of commercials aimed at the twelve-and-under set and crivens! It’s one thing to read about the aggressive gender-segregated marketing of children’s toys (see booknote on Delusions of Gender)? It’s another thing entirely to actually see it first-hand for three hours. I think on some level it’s the sort of stuff I believe intellectually is out there, but I don’t believe-believe people are really that actively and nakedly endorsing stereotypes.

But no: it’s there, front and center. Amazing. I feel like I should be taking notes on the language used to shape meaning of the day and the way in which the parade (apparently) perfectly “captures the essence” of whatever this day is about in our collective imagination.

Huh. I didn’t start this post as a rant. So I guess I’ll stop there and go back to enjoying the day. Particularly the work of Sir Terry Pratchett, whose existence in the world has brought us passages such as this, from his latest Tiffany Aching novel, I Shall Wear Midnight.

And what are my weapons? [Tiffany] thought. And the answer came to her instantly: pride. Oh, you hear them say it’s a sin; you hear them say it goes before a fall. And that can’t be true. The blacksmith prides himself on a good weld … We pride ourselves on making a good history of our lives, a good story to be told.

And I also have fear — the fear that I will let others down — and because I have fear I will overcome that fear. I will not disgrace those who have trained me.

And I have trust, even though I am not sure what it is that I am trusting.

“Pride, fear, and trust,” she said aloud. And in front of her the four candles streamed fire, as if driven by the wind, and for a moment she was certain, in the rush of light, that the figure of an old witch was melting into the stone. “Oh, yes,” said Tiffany. “And I have fire.”

Enjoy your rest, wherever you are, and then carry on with pride, fear, trust, and fire. Doing whatever it is you are called to do.

from the neighborhood: colors from maine

15 Wednesday Sep 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in a sense of place

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family, maine, photos


Fresh tomatoes from Kevin and Linda’s garden.


Balls of carded fiber, dyed with home-grown indigo by Linda.


After hurricane Earl blew through, we had a gorgeous weekend.

Monty the cat on Linda's lap
Monty is suspicious of visitors, but braved our presence to spend a few minutes on Linda’s lap Sunday evening while we were watching movies.

Hope y’all are having a good week; happy 15th of September … in six more days it will officially be fall. Maybe next time we head north, there will be some red and orange color in the trees.

work+school+life: launching year four

09 Thursday Sep 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in a sense of place

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domesticity, education, family, history, librarians, simmons

The Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge (Boston, MA), by garreyf.
Made available at Flickr.com.

It’s the week after Labor Day and thus that time of year again … to look back and look forward and wonder when that third year (that seemed so speedy-fast and incredibly filled with eventfulness at the same time) slid by and to wonder what the year ahead is going to bring.

Hard to believe this is the third anniversary, already, of my move to Boston. (See my post from the end of year one and from year two here). With the hectic nature of the last two weeks (punctuated by several severe migraine-grade headaches), I can’t say that I’ve had a lot of time to reflect meaningfully on the question of whether I feel more authentically “Bostonian” now than I did at this point last year, when I was still very much on the fence. But here I still am, and here Hanna and I are likely to stay for at least the medium term (job opportunities willing!). I admit, in my heart of hearts, to longing for the Pacific Northwest now and again, since it has always felt like something of my second home — and both of us have close friends and family ties there. But the possibility of such a cross-country move is in the distant world of future possibilities, alongside Hanna’s equally important lifelong desire to live, for at least a time, in England. For now, our life is here.

And a jam-packed-full life it is at the minute!

Hanna, who graduated with her MA (History) and MS (Library Science) last December, is working as a processing archivist at the Countway Medical Library at Harvard and as an archives assistant at Northeastern (a position I now share with her). She’s working on studying for her GRE, with plans to pursue her PhD in Irish History, and in her spare time can be found blogging both at …fly over me, evil angel… and her recently-created companion tumblr feed, evil angel. I suggest to any of you reading this that you check out both if what you’re looking for are all the most entertaining links on current events in Britain/Ireland, in the world of books, libraries and archives, and genre fiction/film. As she regularly points out, Hanna’s RSS feeds are way more diverse than mine, and I always end up learning the most random and interesting things!

I’m in my final semester of work for my Library Science degree, and taking two classes: one on archives management and the other on the curation of digital materials. While both classes promise to be useful for my future work as a librarian, I’m definitely ready to be finished with formal schooling. Being a student makes me claustrophobic, prone to migraines, and depressed; it also tends to sap the pleasure out of the pursuit of learning, which I adore, and on the whole seems to be an unhealthy sort of thing for me to engage in. A bad match, personality-wise, I’ve discovered. Ironically even more so when the learning is intended to be of professional use rather than something I do because I find it intrinsically valuable (as with my history research).

To celebrate the completion of my degree, I am making plans to get my first tattoo. While I have yet to settle on a design, we discovered a kick-ass artist at Chameleon when Hanna got own inaugural tattoo (a Dr. Who question mark) over the summer, a joint birthday present from me and our friend Diana. I have two or three conceptual ideas in the pipeline right now, although I think for numero uno it might be one of the boats from Swallows and Amazons. My friend Ashley counsels that tattoos should be symbolic enough to be re-interpreted over time, wise words that make me hesitate to use something so pictoral. But I’m sitting with the image for the next few months to see how it feels, and then we’ll go from there! (If it all goes well, I’ll have to start thinking about what to get when I turn in the final draft of my thesis!)

Speaking of my thesis, the draft is away in the hands of my readers and will likely not be completed until next spring, although final deadlines are still in high-level negotiations. There are some arguments for finishing it this fall, but for quality-of-life reasons, and for quality-of-thesis reasons the handwriting is on my own personal wall that this isn’t going to happen. I don’t want to be miserable and over-extended for four months, which in turn will make my girlfriend feel miserable and over-extended as she tries to mop up my tears, soothe my migraines, and manage all of the things I simply won’t have time for. So we’re shooting for May, 2011 presently. Which is actually the term I originally projected I’d graduate (I’m making progress: it took my seven years for the B.A., so four years for the double Masters’ degrees ain’t shabby!)

Meanwhile, I’m working at my beloved Massachusetts Historical Society (from whence I am writing this) and also at Northeastern, as previously mentioned, where I tag-team a position as archives assistant with Hanna. My latest project is 20.65 cubic feet of records from Northeastern University’s cooperative education program, dating from the mid-1970s to the present. Lots of folders of interdepartmental memos and committee meeting minutes, not to mention all the internal dramas to which any organization is prone. I should also (fingers crossed!) finally be wrapping up, this October, the Marjorie Bouve scrapbook digitization project. We still don’t have a firm idea for how to display the images and information for users, but as soon as we have anything up and running I’ll be sure to link it here.

That’s all going to keep me more than busy enough, although I’m definitely looking forward to an October visit from my parents, over the Columbus Day weekend, and to some new blogging projects (i.e. the continuation of reading the (lesbian) classics with Danika the Lesbrarian; my copy of Beth Goobie’s Hello Groin arrived in the post just this morning!). Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to staying in touch with y’all via the usual modes, posting here when I can, and tumblr when I can’t.

And maybe, some time later in the fall or early next spring, you’ll see that we’ve finally taken the plunge and adopted a cat like we keep talking about doing. If we do, you’ll be some of the first people to know (’cause who can resist cute cat photos; I know I can’t!)

Best wishes for a lovely early autumn to you all, wherever you may be, and you’ll be hearing from me soon enough.

Peace,
Anna

off to maine (my thesis draft is complete)!

02 Thursday Sep 2010

Posted by Anna Clutterbuck-Cook in our family

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Tags

family, holidays, maine, thesis, travel

Kevin and Linda Clutterbuck’s garden, Norridgewock, Maine
July, 2010; photograph by Anna Cook

This week, right in the middle of a heat wave here in Boston and between a two-day migraine headache and the start of fall semester classes, I decided my first full draft was as done as it was going to be. I closed the files, saved them to my USB drive, and tomorrow morning will print two copies and drop them off in the mailboxes of my first and second readers.

The draft comprises an introduction (context and methods) and three chapters. It clocks in at 98 pages, which is longer than my adviser will like but shorter than the final draft is likely to be. I feel very proud to have written those 98 pages over the past twelve weeks, however rough they may be (and believe me, some sections are rough).

What happens from here? Well, first Hanna and I are going — hurricane Earl permitting! — to spend Labor Day weekend free of labor at her parents’ home in central Maine (see above).

Then, my readers will look over and comment on the rough draft and my adviser and I will sit down and plan out the timetable for my final version. There are some constituents voting for a final draft to be submitted in September, and some in the May completion camp. I myself am divided, but leaning toward May for both personal and scholastic reasons. I’ll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I’m pleased that this phase of the project — which at times felt endless verging on the hopeless (Hanna will testify to the tears involved) — is over and the next phase can begin. I’ve always been a bigger fan of revision than I have of the initial, terrifying draft.

Cross-posted from my oregon extension oral history project blog.

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