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Community-AID Blog

Programming Innovation for Youth-serving Organizations​

"From Riding the Rails to Community-Engaged Research: A Difficult but Rewarding Road to Travel" by Nick Demott

10/9/2019

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When I started undergrad, I intended to go straight to graduate school with the goal of becoming a professor. However, my fourth year saw me in an interdisciplinary major program at the University of Minnesota, completely unprepared to actualize the steps necessary to declare the major but also not wanting to switch to “just” a cultural anthropology degree. 

On a lunch break between classes, I walked over to Dinkytown for some pizza slices. In between the pizza shop and grabbing cigarettes, I saw a young man sitting on a hiking backpack holding a cardboard sign. I was intrigued; he didn’t fit any of my assumptions about “what homeless people look like.” Curious, I offered him the remainder of my pizza and started chatting; “I rode here from Chicago on a freight train,” he told me. 

With this, my jaw dropped; I thought freight train hopping was something from the movies. It was certainly in my cultural lexicon, but not as a living practice. Yet here sat a young, slightly dirty KID who said he had literally done it the previous day. Combined with my love of travel, my desire to see the west coast, and my lack of direction in school at the time, I was sucked in. I begged him to show me the ropes.

 Little did I know that this adventure would consume the majority of my 20s, take me all around the country via rail and thumb, introduce me to countless friends, and help me find the confidence to sing and play guitar (and make money while doing so!). But those are stories for another time; what I ALSO didn’t know was that I would fall in love with that lifestyle so completely that it would become extremely difficult to return to my academic pursuits, look for a career path, and re-enter “normal society.” 

I dropped out of University of Minnesota to travel for awhile; after a couple of years, however, I figured that having 110 credits and no degree was probably a little silly and decided to finish up. I transferred to Western Michigan University where, after three semesters (I was only allowed to transfer 90 credits), I graduated in 2014 with a BA in Cultural Anthropology. At this point, I probably should have been looking at internships or jobs, fostering closer relationships with professors whose classes I really enjoyed as potential mentors, and teasing out more of what I wanted to do with my life. Alas, the road was still calling me, and, while I knew I wanted to be involved in some sort of social justice work, I couldn’t see a clear path to creating a career around it. 

 I spent so much time wandering aimlessly that, for a while, it felt as if I’d never break free of that lifestyle. My last “big hurrah” was hitch-hiking all the way to Alaska, from June to September of 2016. After that amazing trip, I attempted to settle down in Olympia, Washington. However, trying to get off the street when you’re living out of a backpack and haven’t had a job on your resume in over two years is a little difficult. Eventually, I took off for Austin, Texas, where I had a friend who was working a renaissance fair and said he could get me a job. 

I made it to Amarillo, most of the way to my destination, within a couple of weeks, but there, I fell from a train and broke my heel. This meant I was unable to walk for months, so my parents, very graciously, bought me a plane ticket back home to Michigan. I ultimately landed in Lansing, where my mom lives. Once I was finally able to walk again, I spent two years delivering pizzas, all while looking for opportunities to get back into some sort of field that would allow me to work to make the world better. During this time, I also did a little bit of volunteer work, helping organize and attending some protests and being fairly involved in running Lansing Food Not Bombs. Finally, I discovered AmeriCorps. That brings me to where I am now.  

I’m barely two months into my term of service, but I’ve already gained invaluable experience in my position with the Community-AID lab. I’ve finally been able to reenter the workforce in a way that is meaningful to me and do work that connects some of my passions and skills. I don’t have a clear picture of where I will go when this year is over. However, this experience in and of itself is transformative. After spending so much time disconnected from academic pursuits, it’s refreshing to be in an environment where people are passionate about making the world better, and are using their skills and knowledge to actualize that vision. 
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I honestly can’t even remember if I’d heard of community psychology prior to starting this position. My limited experience with it so far, however, has been very exciting. It speaks to many of my interests from cultural anthropology, but seems even more engaged in actually trying to implement solutions to problems, rather than merely observing and documenting them. I’m very excited to see where the coming year will lead me, as I continue doing work that I find meaningful and connecting with great people.


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"What They Didn’t Tell Me" by Rosy Lopez

7/24/2019

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Now that I am at the end of my undergraduate career, there are many moments I can look back on. What I have realized about almost all of these moments, is it was the things no one told me that were the most valuable in building up the person I am. The first of these was sacrifice. I still remember having the CAMP recruiter come talk to us at my high school. Hearing his story and all the wonderful things about the program, I had convinced myself in that moment going to Michigan State University is what I wanted to do. Not necessarily the educational part, more so the trips and events is what intrigued me. What they didn't tell me, was leaving my sunshine home would be one of my first biggest sacrifices I would have to make on my own account. Yes, it all sounded great, but coming to MSU meant leaving a whole life I knew up to that point. Spending time with my family, seeing my siblings grow up and guiding them through the first transitions of life, seeing my nieces and nephews grow from babies to teens, being with friends who are like family to me, living in a stable house, and much more. Giving up my comfort was a big sacrifice to make at 18, especially when you know no one and have nothing. Yet, I chose to make the sacrifice and take those first steps in making a life of my own.

    One of my first true moments of defeat was at the end of my freshman year. I failed almost all my classes that semester. I was just a .001 away from going into academic probation. I remember feeling so beat and like I failed at my first big step of living life on my own. “Why did I come here”? . “What am I even doing”? “How did this happen”? These were the thoughts running through my head. I made this tremendous sacrifice to leave and I was not taking advantage of the opportunity given to me. Almost reassuring me school was not meant for me. You see, it is in these moments of failure where all dreams and visions you had for yourself begin to become blurry. You start thinking you don't have what it takes to do things. It makes you want to blanket yourself in a sheet of comfort. Through time and experience, I learned two things about failure. One, failure is not taking a step back, it is taking a step in a new direction. Not every idea will be a success, not every exam will be your best, not every action will be the most impactful. Our failures allows the opportunity to develop a better version of you and your skills. Failure sometimes means we have to go back to the drawing board. Two, if you're not failing, your not living. Not saying all of life will be full of failure, but it is also not all success. The best success stories come from the worst failures. We fail to learn lessons in life, we fail to improve those ideas we have, we fail to create successes.
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    For the last two years of my undergraduate career, I started to focus on my overall career. Using my love for the social sciences, I was determined to discover the world of research. What they didn’t tell me, was it is actually not as easy as saying you want to do research. Let alone finding research positions on your own. For these last two years, I searched for positions in many ways, such as reviewing  handshake, talking to people I knew, emailing past and current professors, looking for flyers on the wall, or whatever seemed to be a useful resource. To my avail, nothing was successful. It seemed my dreams of working on research were not going to happen anytime soon. Then before all hope was lost, someone pointed me in the direction of Dr. Ignacio Acevedo-Polakovich. I anxiously awaited for his reply because I was really excited about finally having a promising opportunity. I had no clue what Community Psychology was, but I did have maintained liking for Psychology. I met with him and some of the lab members to discuss projects and coming in there lab. Finally, someone was willing to give me their time of day and grant me my first steps as a researcher. I was and am very grateful to Dr. Acevedo-Polakovich and his team for supporting me and allowing me the opportunity to work alongside them. Although, I still have a way to go, I am thankful for the experience. What they never tell you is that in order to gain the things you want, you have to be persistent in obtaining them. I stayed persistent because I knew research was something I really wanted to do. I persisted because I knew I had the capability  to help contribute knowledge to the world, and I'm glad to know someone believed in what I had to offer as well.


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"Lessons I’ve Learned in the First Year of my Ph.D. Program" by Rosaura Dominguez-Rebollar

4/26/2019

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This time last year, I was planning my move to Michigan for Michigan State’s Community Psychology Ph.D. program. This was a major goal I had worked very hard to achieve, but I never really thought about what would come after. Even though I applied to grad programs both in and out of New York City, I hadn't really given any thought to what it would be like to actually have to move for grad school until I had to when I ended up choosing to go to a grad school program outside of New York.
I will soon be finishing my first year in grad school. I managed to live by myself in a different state without burning my house down or giving myself food poisoning. It’s definitely been an interesting journey settling into my Ph.D. program, so I thought I'd share some lessons I've learned in my first year.

Keep contact back home
You will get homesick. Even when you talk to your parents at least once a day, as I do, you will get homesick, trust me. If it's not something you haven't experienced before, you won't know what you're feeling when it first hits you. It will feel awful, but it's normal to feel this way, especially if it’s the first time you’re away from home, like me. It helps to talk to someone who's already been through it. I talked with a friend who had gone to grad school the year before and he helped me identify that it was homesickness I was feeling. Cry if you feel the need to. And most importantly, connect with your family. Even if you are out on your own, that doesn't mean you are alone. Your family misses you too, so they will be more than happy to hear from you.
Homesickness will be something that comes and goes, but it’s easier to deal with when you know what it is you’re feeling. Contact your family as often as you need to. There are no set rules that limit or dictate how you connect to your family. Funnily enough, I feel more connected to my parents now that I’m actually away from home. We now talk more than ever before! My mom has also become one of those WhatsApp moms that sends an encouraging poem every day, and I've learned to look forward to them every single day.


Don't compare yourself to others
The thing about grad school is that everybody here is conventionally smart. Coming into grad school, you may be shocked that you are no longer the “smart one” of your group. It's easy to fall into the trap of imposter syndrome and feel like you're one sentence away from being discovered and getting kicked out of grad school. However, you have to keep in mind that everybody’s research is different, they all have different goals, and it's normal to be moving at different paces, so it doesn't make any sense to compare yourself to fellow graduate students.

The importance of accountability
For me, grad school has been an exercise in adulting. I knew I could keep up with classes relatively well, but I wasn't prepared for the sudden loss of the routine I learned to keep during undergrad. Grad school keeps you busy, but it also creates more free time than you know what to do with. It was easy for me to get lulled into a false sense of security that I had plenty of time to finish everything I needed to get done.
You can have a life in grad school if you plan accordingly. There won't be anyone assigned to keep an eye on you specifically. Remember you are a grown up and you have to be responsible for yourself -- after all, you chose to apply to grad school, so now you have to do the work. However, that doesn't mean that you can’t have a little help. Depending on your work style, you might be more comfortable scheduling time where you and a group of friends work together, say in a coffee shop or in someone’s home. Some people like setting up deadlines for themselves, usually before an actual assignment is due. Others recommend getting an accountability buddy. You know yourself best, so if you feel that something works for you, go for it.

Make friends outside of your program and discipline
Grad school is great because you get to meet like-minded peers. However, you have to remember that there is more to grad school and to life outside of your program. I know sometimes it becomes easy for grad students to stay within their program or department, as they often don't need to go elsewhere on campus to get what they need, and I have to admit I'm also somewhat guilty of this. But I've also learned to take advantage of the, very often free, events on campus, which usually also have free food, a topic I will touch on later as well. This way you get to do something fun (as defined by you) and you get to meet other students outside of your discipline. I especially like meeting other grad students outside of psychology, because I get to learn about other cool topics as well. For example, hyenas!
Go for the free food, stay for the talk
    People will often make jokes about grad students and free food and these jokes are not completely unfounded. I've certainly gone to events where my first question was “Will there be food?” instead of “What is this event about?” But honestly, who hasn't done the same? Even if this is the method you use to decide what events you go to, you can actually learn a lot of cool things once you're there. Because I was promised free food, I've gone to job talks, brown bags, and union meetings, among other events. Apart from good food, I have also learned about the university hiring process, gotten the break down of the application of cool methods, and participated in union strategizing, just to mention a few things. So, go for the free food, but stay for the talk.

These are just some of the things I’ve learned during my short time in grad school, but I'm sure I still have many more lessons to learn and I'm excited to see what those lessons will be.

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"Lessons Learned in the Community-AID Lab" by Meg Normand

4/16/2019

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I started at the Community-Aid Lab almost two years ago as an AmeriCorps VISTA, expecting that I would stay for a year. It was my first job out of college, and I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I knew that I would be gaining research and professional experience in a field closely related to my future career path in the field of public health, but I didn’t expect that my one-year position would turn into a two-year position. Although I’ll be leaving the lab in the fall to begin graduate school in a field outside of community psychology and academia, I’ve learned many lessons in the lab that I will use for the rest of my career.

1)    Importance of work-life balance
Before I started working at the lab, I thought being passionate and successful in a career meant dedicating all your time and energy to the job. I assumed that successful people must eat, sleep, and breathe their career because that type of approach  is often glamorized in academia and beyond. However, in the lab I’ve learned that it’s important to have a work-life balance. The members of the lab taught me that investing in your life outside of work is key to creating successful work. I’ve learned that a life lacking work-life balance,  -- even if you’re in a career you consider fun and fulfilling-- is going to lead to burnout.
2)    Letting go of perfectionism
When I first started at the lab, I was scared to turn in or show my work to a more experienced lab member  until it was perfect. As a post-baccalaureate right out of college, not much work I was producing was going to be perfect. This disconnect created issues because I would spend hours trying to perfect something that I didn’t yet have the skill set to perfect. The expectations I set for myself soon created debilitating stress and missed deadlines. With the help of lab members, I eventually realized that the lab environment was intended to be a place to grow and learn. Instead of expecting perfection, the lab was expecting me to give projects a try. This realization led to more growth and learning because I was able to openly collaborate and ask questions on my projects.
3)    Collaboration
Before working in the lab, I’d never worked on a team in a professional setting. I had worked on teams in college classes and in internships in which one person ended up taking over the work for the whole team. In the lab, we’re working on much bigger projects and have to rely on others to assist with the completion of a project. Using the concept of integrated decision making, I’ve learned how to work with others while being respectful of others’ time and responsibilities.
4)    How to get out of my comfort zone
During my time in the lab, I’ve had several experiences that made me go outside of my comfort zone. Chief among these experiences was working on my fear of public speaking. Coming into the lab, I was terrified of public speaking. When I first started in the lab, members encouraged me to present on topics I’m passionate about to other lab members. This practice made me much more comfortable with public speaking. I eventually was comfortable enough to present research at conferences to other academics and evaluators. Although I’m still working on overcoming this fear, the lab has given me the tools and support to address this fear.

Although I don’t plan on continuing a career in community psychology or academia, I believe these lessons learned in the Community-AID Lab will be applicable to any career path I pursue.


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"Navigating Loneliness as an Undergraduate" by Maggie Jenkins

3/1/2019

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“College will be the best years of your life.” These words, spoken by countless adults, fueled me through my last year of high school. Every time that I felt overwhelmed with frustration, I calmed myself with the thought that everything could be different in college -- I could be more confident, take better care of my mental and physical health, and grow into the person I was “supposed” to be. Sure, there was a part of me that was worried about making friends, and the idea of not seeing my friends and family (and my dog!) made me sad, but I generally had high hopes for college.

When I actually arrived at college, I found that forming a new friend group was a lot more difficult than I thought. Even though I knew that most people want to make new friends, everyone puts out the image that they’ve already found a group, which made them seem much harder to approach. Especially in such a large university, it’s intimidating to “find your people” amongst thousands of strangers. Even though I had the built-in friendship of my sister and her boyfriend, who are both MSU students as well, I couldn’t help but miss having my own group of friends. Because of this, my first semester of college was defined by an unexpected, overwhelming loneliness.

Loneliness reaches beyond just being bored or missing your friends and family. When left unaddressed, it soon turns into a looming feeling of sadness and inadequacy that spreads into all areas of your life. Because of my loneliness, I began losing drive to get through my classes. Even though they were in some ways a distraction from my lack of a social life, they also felt like a reminder of it: it seemed that every other student was thriving where I had failed.

I am still in my first year, and honestly things have not yet made a dramatic shift for the better. But one important thing has changed: I stopped denying to myself and others that I was having a problem, and that that problem was seriously affecting my life. I know it’s cliché to say that accepting you have a problem is the first step to getting better, but it’s true. By confiding in friends at different colleges, I found that my own loneliness is not unusual. Merely knowing this helped me to stop beating myself up over it. So, my advice to current and future undergraduates is as follows:
  1. Don’t be afraid to approach others with friendship -- college is new for everyone, and they are probably just as in need of a friend as you are.
  2. Be patient with yourself. Even though it seems like it at times, there is no time-constraint on making new friends.
  3. If you feel isolated because you haven’t made close friends, talk to somebody about it, whether it’s your family, your friends from high school, or a counselor. It can be difficult to do, but you will feel so much less alone.

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“Mentorship networks: What they are, what they are good for, and how they are built.” by Ignacio D. Acevedo-Polakovich, PhD, MSU Community-AID Laboratory Lead

2/15/2019

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Mentorship is a term that researchers and practitioners often use when discussing their professional development. It refers to a formative relationship between a mentee (i.e., a person who is ilearning) and a mentor (i.e., a person who teaches). In this blog, I would like to present you with the idea that developing a network of mentors is much better for your professional development than relying on a single mentor.
Why have mentors?
1. Perhaps the foremost reason to have a network of mentors is that no one mentor is likely to be an expert on every single thing that there is to know about your professional development. Having multiple mentors raises the probability that you can access guidance from a knowledgeable person.
  • For example, in my own career I’ve relied on relatively recent job applicants for practical guidance on job searching and on more experienced faculty members for guidance on avoiding common mistakes that job applicants make. Having access to both groups of mentors allows for a more complete picture of the job search process, and ultimately a more successful search. The same principle applies to most domains of professional development in both research and practice.

2.  Another reason to develop multiple mentors is that your relationships with each of them will naturally wax and wane repeatedly over time. Having multiple mentors raises the possibility of accessing someone who is ideally motivated to support you exactly at the time you need it.
  • The most poignant example from my own career came when a mentor that I most often rely on for advice on publishing and writing faced an unfortunate series of health and family problems. Demanding her time and resources under those conditions would have been selfish and indelicate of me. Having other mentors to rely on allowed me to receive the guidance that I needed in order to continue meeting my professional demands, and freed my time so that I could  honor and support my mentor through difficult times.

3. Having multiple mentors fosters freedom and independence. I run into colleagues whose reliance on one or only a few mentors has limited their professional choices (e.g., “I wish I could apply for that job, but I don’t know anyone in that system” or “I can’t publish this, it goes directly against what X has been saying for years.”). I’ve had only a few experiences where I have felt as they do. It is unpleasant to feel that after all the work you’ve put into experiencing success in your field, your growth is inordinately affected by the whims of a person who you have little influence upon.
  • Whenever I’ve discovered that my professional environments make success contingent on unfailing alliance to one particular person or set of ideas, I have immediately begun looking elsewhere (a decision most always supported by the mentors in my network).

4. This brings me to a final benefit of mentorship networks–support. Because you are human, you will make mistakes regarding your professional development. When this happens, it is wonderful to have available to you a number of mentors outside of your immediate professional context that can help you navigate back to a sound professional course.
  • In the midst of my worst professional decisions, it has been my mentors who have helped me plot the course out of those decisions, and whose support has led me to believe a successful resolution is possible.

I’m sold, how do I build a mentorship network?
Before discussing specific tactics, I ask you to consider that it is difficult, if not impossible, to be mentored without being humble. Mentors are willing to provide something that you do not have (e.g., knowledge, a skill, experience, a professional contact, etc.) in exchange for the satisfaction of seeing you avoid a pitfall that they encountered or watching you develop. Demanding and entitled attitudes on the part of mentees (often soon to be “former mentees”) are unlikely to foster mentors’ willingness to continue to assist you. Humility, appreciativeness, and graciousness seem to best honor the benefits received from your mentors.

As for where to begin, I think that it is best to begin building mentors within your natural environment. Among graduate students, perhaps the most natural mentors are faculty and other students. For lack of humility, I’ve seen students ignore incredibly helpful information provided to them by their peers. For lack of appreciation, I’ve seen these peers (and faculty) stop sharing helpful information with “could have been mentees.” The medieval philosopher Dominic of Guzman is said to have written
“appreciate all wisdom you encounter, irrespective of its source.” That is an incredibly productive attitude if you are looking to develop mentors. I’ve received incredible advice from people that I’ve not expected it from, often ones who I am not personally drawn to. Making sure to note the appreciation that I have for their wisdom (e.g., through written or verbal comments) has ensured more wisdom in the future.


A second natural place to seek mentors is through programs and structures developed specifically for this purpose. Many educational institutions, programs, and professional societies have formal mentoring or professional development programs. If you find one that works for you, you’ve found a rare commodity that you should not undervalue.


Professional societies provide one final place to identify potential mentors and develop mentors. The more you interact with people who share your interests, the more you are likely to find some among them who are willing to guide you. When you find these people, honor and appreciate them. I’ve met some of my most valued mentors and mentees (some of whom in turn have mentored me in specific domains) sitting in the audience of a professional presentation or over lunch at a workshop.

Some final observations

Here are some things that I’ve learned on the road to developing and maintaining my own mentorship networks.
1.  I repeat, and will repeat it again and again, humility and appreciation go a long way. If a person is helpful to you, let them know it. A doctoral student recently came into my office frustrated that I had stopped giving her direction as I did before. Her frustration was surprising to me as I had scaled down my advice based on the lack of feedback from her about it. It is my job to teach all students at my institution. It is my pleasure and privilege to be able to mentor some. I don’t want to impose, so I am unlikely to mentor people who fail to provide me a sense that my mentorship is valued.
2. Initiative can work miracles. I once wondered out loud why a friend of mine got advice from one of our mentors that I –despite having more contact with this mentor- did not get. Her answer: I ask. Lesson learned, I now ask. I don’t always get an answer (or the answer I want), but –unsurprisingly- the net amount of times that I do get an answer has increased exponentially.
3. Not everyone can mentor you. There are several people that I respect and admire who I’ve hoped to develop mentorship relationships with, but these have never materialized. While the reasons for this may be varied (e.g., lack of time, lack of personal compatibility. etc.), one thing I’ve learned is not to take it personally. Sometimes the inability to form a mentorship relationship has stemmed from an identifiable reason that helps me grow, others it has not. In either case, it is good self-care to learn as much as you can from that event and then move on with your life and professional development.
  • In my own life, I often refer students and  colleagues who seek advice or consultation from me to someone else. It is not because I do not like or value these people. Much to the contrary, it is because I value them that I refer them to someone who can serve them better than I can at the time.
4. The way you make mentors will likely match your personality. I have a colleague (that is at times a mentor to me) who has the enviable ability to walk up to seemingly anyone and enlist their help. Although I am sure that the process is at times effortful for her, observed from the outside it seems graceful and uncomplicated. As much as I’ve tried to develop that skill and will continue to work at it, it is still something that does not come naturally to me. However, for reasons I don’t fully understand I seem to do well at contributing effectively to committees, workforces, and other such groups. It is within these groups that I have forged many of my mentoring relationships. I have colleagues who develop mentoring networks through social engagements at conferences such as informal lunches, tours, etc.
  • While it is wise for everyone to take advantage of as many opportunities to develop mentoring relationships as they are afforded, not everyone will excel at the same types of opportunities. Find your strength and build from it.

Author’s note: A first version of this blog entry was written Ignacio Acevedo, PhD, about ten years ago. At that time, it was featured in the
Multicultural Mentoring blog by the Society of Clinical Psychology’s Section on the Clinical Psychology of Ethnic Minorities. (APA Division 12, Section 6). In 2014, a lightly copyedited version was reposted on the American Psychological Association of Graduate Students’ gradPSYCH Blog. Ignacio has significantly copyedited the original version for this current post.


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Among graduate students, perhaps the most natural mentors are faculty and other students.
(Several Community-AID team members at a recent conference. From left to right; Erica Nordquist, Lauren Vollinger, Lucas Al-Zoughbi, Audrey Von-Maszewski, Ignacio Acevedo, and Meg Normand).

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"A bird touched by humans" by Malu Castro

2/6/2019

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Thinking on what I should write for this blog, I was confronted by the realization that I firmly believe that this place (read: the academy, MSU, Lansing, the U.S.) was not and cannot be made for me. The novelty of that realization was not from the thought (because I have definitely thought it before), but instead from the recognition that I didn’t know how to explain to others how to survive here. Instead, I will (re)tell the story that taught me how to recognize others like me and the paths we (re)tread. It is a story that was woven for me from bodies and histories by an elder of mine when we first met. We were flying back from a research conference, I, the last person on the plane, him, thankful for how small the last person on the plane was. It’s a story about a bird. For most it will always be a story about a bird, but the others will know. That’s a win-win to me.

*****

Imagine you are a bird, but not a bald eagle. Anything, but a fucking bald eagle unless you are from their place and you know what’s up. So, you might be a nene down by the coffee  roasters in Kaunakakai or perhaps you are an iquaca taking the day off with the family on Gilligan's Island. You are just minding your own business eating, breathing, pooping, and fucking when a human grabs you. You’ve heard stories about them. You know they have vivisected more than a few of your kin for being too much predator and not enough prey.

But these ones just grab a few of you and ask you to mimic their voices. From behind their clipboards they watch you intently as they play the song “This Land is your Land” on repeat. Each one listening to see if one your hoots or whistles matches Woody Guthrie’s voice. A few of you start tapping your talons to the rhythm guitar and eventually one or two of you even sing along. Not wanting to be upstaged, or left out, you join in on the fun. As time goes on the humans start to choose their favorites and identify the birds that sound most like a human. In that selection process, they take the ones who aren’t doing as well away and come back with full bellies.


Now you are worried. You know that you have to keep getting better at mimicking that boy “from” Oklahoma. You don’t know if you will live, but you aren’t ready to die yet. So, you sing and sing and sing until one day it is just you left. The humans cheer and congratulate you on your achievement. They show you a paper with the title, “The Utility of American Folk Music in Producing Human Like Vocalizations among Avians.” They pat you on the back and whisk you away back to your [INSERT ISLAND, FOREST, DESERT, TUNDRA, HOME].

​Stepping onto the land, the songs of your birdkin flood the cavern in your mind left from your captivity. Imagine the weight of freedom for something light enough to fly. Fearfully, you make your way toward their nests, unsure if all that song and dance you learned robbed you of your birthrights. With nothing to go back to and everything ahead of you, you leap…


...thank the ancestors that you didn’t forget how to sing or fly.
   
 
Up in the air, you make your way to your birdkin, but before you can get close they call out to you in their/your song, “Who goes there?” You respond in song and exclaim the new tricks you learned among those who can’t fly. Some singular voices inquire about your time away, if you’re alright, and what you learned, but  the song of the flock is too loud as it proclaims, “You smell like human!” You try to retort in your tongue and explain that you now know the tongue of your kidnappers, but the flock does not recognize you. You spent too much time in cages eating pellets and being touched by human hands. You carry the smell of the kidnapper with you.

  
Alone once again, you try to call out to your family, friends, and lovers, but none come to sit by you on the branch that you first flew from. You grow older and spend your time on the outside of the flock, ever vigilant of when they might see you as an intruder. Throughout the years you watch as humans come back more frequently and take more and more of your kin. The flock grows thin and anxiety permeates the song of your people. Eventually, other birds are returned and  are excluded. Knowing their loneliness, you come by and gather them up after they are left behind by the flock. You will share with them how the song of the humans is not a gift, a boon, or a tool. It is a weapon. It is a reminder of what they want and a warning of what they will do.

  
This small conclave of yours grows, and as it grows, you speak of the horrors you have seen among the humans. Things so horrible there aren’t words for it in birdsong so you can only speak of them through the voice of Woody Guthrie. So profuse are the horrors of humanity, that you start frantically singing it in their presence. In time, the flock starts to pay attention to the minority singing, “This Land is your Land” whenever humans are around. The flock doesn’t trust you, but they know to run when you  start singing. With time, the song of the flock (still punctuated with anxiety) proclaims, “Work on being smelly.”


Now, your task, along with the rest of the human smelling birds, is to relearn how to smell like a bird. It’s not like riding a bike. It’s more like performing a mating dance, killing your food, and enjoying the smell of bird musk/filth. These are things that can be taught and learned, but there are no lyrics to them. You just have to trust (and listen to) your feathers, blood, and body. Being in one’s scent isn’t about being identified as part of the flock, but about showing that you are willing to be in the muck of it -  that you have skin in the game. You will probably fail to smell like you once did, but that’s okay because now you know how hard it is to be smelly. Either way, you are just a bird and this story isn’t an analogy.

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"The Importance of Personal Connections in Graduate School" by Lauren Vollinger

11/27/2018

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Over the past year, I’ve realized that personal connections are the most important thing to have in graduate school. No, I don’t mean professional networking connections. I mean the personal acquaintances, friendships, and familial ties that keep us going from day to day when all we want to do is take a nap or drop out to get a “big kid job.”

I’m not the first person to say this and I certainly won’t be the last… Social support is essential to being successful in graduate school. In true academic fashion, I decided to see if there was any research to back this up, and sure enough, there is!

Researchers from Penn State University found that social support from 1) academic friends, 2) family, and 3) advisors are all necessary for successful graduate degree completion. Having support from each of these groups is beneficial because they all contribute something different to your emotional well-being. For example, academic friends can be great at helping develop and encourage new ideas, whereas family can provide practical support such as helping with household chores, providing child care, and making sure their loved one remembers to eat!

I was fortunate enough to receive varying levels of support from people in all three groups over the past few months. Some people sent money and gift cards for me to get myself some coffee on long writing days while others sent impeccably well-timed words of encouragement via text or on social media. What surprised me was how impactful the smallest gesture could be, particularly from people or at times I least expected. The camaraderie among students in my graduate program is wonderfully unique, my family seems to always find ways to support me from afar, and my advisors do everything in their power to ensure I succeed. For that I feel incredibly lucky.

All this to say, any type of support you can offer a graduate student (or anyone) has the power to make a larger impact than you may realize. For those that have been there for me, thank you for being constant sources of support and happiness in my life. You all sure know how to make a salty, cranky, sleep-deprived, stressed-out girl feel like she can keep pressing on.

Jairam, D., & Kahl Jr, D. H. (2012). Navigating the doctoral experience: The role of social support in successful degree completion. International Journal of Doctoral Studies, 7, 311-329.


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"A Young Academic’s Rules to Live By" By Taylor Layne Crisman

11/6/2018

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My introduction to undergraduate studies was a unique one. My first course was an honors course titled, “Our Search for Meaning.” Pretty heavy stuff. Many of the experiences from that course will stay with me for the rest of my life, but one of the most impactful moments was when my professor, Dr. Planer, shared a list he had compiled titled, “Dr. Planer’s Rules to Live By.” Throughout his life, he has pondered lessons learned and continually updates the list of rules he wants to live by. After sharing his list, he gave us an assignment to create our own.

​I had just turned 19 and had never thought of myself as wise. As other students shared the same concern, I realized I was not alone. Dr. Planer assured us that we all had wisdom and knowledge to share. To this day, I look back on this lesson and remind myself that my experiences are valuable. To celebrate 4 years since the original draft of my own lessons to live by, I decided to create a list of lessons specifically for academics.


A Young Academic’s Top 5 Rules to Live By:
  1. Embrace failure. This has, oddly enough, become pretty common advice. When I was a kid, I was never really told that failure was okay. Now, I have reframed failure as a window of opportunity that opens when a door is slammed in your face. From my experience, this rule of embracing failure is incredibly important. My plans have fallen apart so many times throughout my studies. However, as I worked to piece them back together, I’ve learned important things about myself and discovered new research interests and career opportunities.
  2. Establish work-life balance. During my first two years of undergrad, I worked and studied nearly all hours of the day and night, rarely making time for my family and friends. I fell into the trap of “romanticizing the exhausted college student.” After those first two years, I realized how important it is to establish a balance between the work I care so much about and my personal life. We are people first, academics second. Make time for the people and activities that matter to you outside of your academic life.
  3. Appreciate your peers and mentors. Nobody enters academia as a superstar. We are all a result of the hard work, dedication, and mentorship of those we encounter during our academic journey. This is not to say that we are not capable, intelligent individuals. I simply mean that we should appreciate our peers and mentors, because they help make our ventures and successes possible. This should not be taken lightly.
  4. Be trustworthy. A common theme I have encountered in all of the academic settings I have been in is the importance of trust. We rely a great deal on being able to trust those we work with. In fact, most labs operate as teams, where trust is a crucial component. Be a trustworthy teammate!
  5. Be unrealistic. This is my favorite lesson of all. My undergraduate advisor, Dr. David Johnson, taught me this. Throughout my entire undergraduate experience, he never encouraged me to set realistic expectations. Rather, he encouraged me to apply for long-shot grants, conferences, lab gigs, etc. He helped me realize that I don’t have to choose educational or career paths that are safe or expected. This rule continues to bring amazing experiences into my life and I wouldn’t be where I am today without it.

I plan on adding to this list throughout my lifetime as an academic, and I highly encourage others to create their own lists. Looking back on the original list I made four years ago was a great way to reflect on my experiences and note areas of personal growth. As a burgeoning academic, I think this is a particularly great exercise. It’s a great way to remember why you chose the path you did and what you’ve learned along the way. Thanks, Dr. Planer, for introducing me to this great practice!



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"Grad school 'on the other side' (of parenting)" by Sara Stacy

10/19/2018

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I am currently entering my fourth year as a graduate student in the Ecological-Community Psychology program and partner in the Community-AID Laboratory. That being said, a lot of things feel normal and routinized: I am getting started on coursework and readings, departmental and program events are happening on a more regular basis, projects and manuscripts are in full swing, and I am *
eagerly* balancing all of the responsibilities that come with each of those domains. However, this year also feels different for me, because it is the first semester in which I will be doing all of these things as a mom.


​I am now the mom of a happy little 7-month chunk of a child, who has brought so much love and light into my family life. It has truly been a whirlwind of emotions, but getting to watch him grow, learn, and change has been such a fun experience for my partner and I. With the great joy of that experience also comes some great challenges. I now have another human being I need to consider in all of my decisions. My work schedule is completely dependent on my child and family life. And “working from home” has become a great challenge when you have an adorable little munchkin that just wants to play peek-a-boo or snuggle and does not necessarily prioritize those three articles you have to read for your class.
Since becoming a mom as a graduate student, people are now impressed with my ability to still “get things done.” But the truth is that it doesn’t really feel very impressive at all, because I am just doing what needs to be done, in a way that works best for me. I know my other graduate students have a ton of other things that demand their time, and my experience isn’t that different from theirs. (The only exception perhaps is that my personal demand is objectively the cutest type of demand ever.) I think it is important for all students to to have a life outside of their graduate school experience and each of us must balance both our school and personal life in unique ways.

Balancing my identity as a mother and a student hasn’t drastically changed the way I view work, school, or family, but it has helped me to learn a few lessons in these first seven months that I’d like to share here.
​
  1. Make your breaks count. Since I started working after having my son, my partner and I have made it part of our weekly routine to have lunch together on campus as a family as frequently as we can. This has been a great addition to my week to get some additional quality time during the work day. Before having a child, I might have spent a break from work just mindlessly scrolling on Facebook or reading some article online, but now I am spending my breaks in a more thoughtful and intentional way, which has really helped my mental sanity. Even just forcing myself to get out of the office has been a great component of my work schedule, and I think it is something that everyone can benefit from. I am certainly not the first person to come to this conclusion, but I am definitely a strong advocate for it now.
  2. Work intentionally and with purpose. Since becoming a mom, I really do not have time to waste. I have found that this drastically changes the efficiency and productivity in the work I do . Whenever I am working, I always feel a sense of urgency because every hour of work is an extra hour away from my son and my family who I absolutely love. That being said, I really try to work intentionally. I minimize the distractions, focus in on the task at hand, and try to get things done in the time I have. Again, this is not necessarily a new or novel idea, but I think it is an important lesson. Get work done in the time you have allotted, and work as hard as you can when you have the time. Then, put it away and live your life until the next time you come back to it.
  3. You are more than the work you do. Within work domains, and academia specifically, many of us feel that we are diminished to the work we produce. You are constantly demanded so many different actions and people. expect. so. much. of. you. Before having a son, I think I had the tendency to always be thinking about the work I could or should be doing, and diminish views of myself, and sometimes others, based on the work I was able to accomplish during a particular day or week. Since becoming a mom, I am constantly reminded: I am more than the work I do. I am more than the articles I read, the presentations I give, the manuscripts I publish, and the projects I complete. Thinking of myself in this view reminds me that the people I work with, too, are more than the work they accomplish. They also do other great things with their time that deserve to be recognized. I try to remember this when working with folks and see them first as a human being that I get to share my time with, and second as a work partner or colleague.

​Again, these are not new and novel insights, but I have recognized the importance of each of these lessons since  becoming a mom, and I hope that grad students and other people find them helpful.


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