Packing

The first time I felt sentimental about leaving California was in March when I sold my surfboard. All of a sudden, just like that, a lifestyle that had been so important to me -- one laden with memories of specific people, places, and moments, like my ex-boyfriend Jon who taught me to surf, like four-mile beach, like the time we saved a sea otter pup or pulled a man ashore who had snapped his leg -- was no more. Surfing and Pennsylvania? That might be the first time someone has written the two in the same sentence.

I didn't think that selling my board would be such a sad experience at all until I had the check in my hands. Immediately I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. That's it. At least for now. No more pearling under sweet Pacific waves, no more thrill of catching a big one, no more humbling wipe outs, no more seeing old surfer friends I've known for ten years now, still going to the same spot, still doing the same routine and saying the same gossip. Beautiful local bullshit.

Around the same time, the "little" things like walking my dog and talking to the children in my neighborhood, like commuting by bicycle to SJSU, like helping my grandma every week with her home in Cupertino began to affect my senses. Duke is the most popular dog in a neighborhood packed with children. Girls far outnumber the boys in this neighborhood and they have just been a joy to have watched sprout up these past two years. A walk with Duke that coincides with school getting out brings forth a mob of small children running up to us screaming, "Dukie! Dukieeeee!" Small hands pet his fur as his tail wags with excitement at such luxury, and charming child's questions like "How much you want for him? Ten dollars? Seventeen?" and "Can I keep him when he gets old?" -- as if Duke is not an integral part of our family but just something we would give away when he deteriorates with age -- keep me laughing and on my toes. What a joy these kids are -- kids who probably wouldn't talk to me much if it weren't for my golden companion, big and goofy and happy, bringing forth a peaceful and therapeutic experience for these youngsters as they get home from their days.

I'm going to miss these kids. Lilie and Jasmine, the two girls who live behind us, are always outside building and creating! I will never forget the day that I came outside to let Duke go to the bathroom when I saw the most epic tree fort with the girls inside: table, blankets, books covered up in big branches like a tee pee. The two boys across the street, Elias and Jonas, were standing on their lawn in both awe and jealousy. Some hours later, I was out again and I looked over at the boys' lawn to see a pathetic attempt at a fort: a couple of sticks and a blanket leaning up against the wall. Sorry boys, but I think the girls won this time! My next door neighbor's little girl -- another Jasmine -- is the sweetest and kindest 11-year-old, packing her day with trumpet lessons, reading books, learning Mandarin, and helping mom. And our landlord's five-year-old Nima is an absolute light from God: his spirit is so precious, dynamic, different: not at all shy, Nima boldy walks up to Justin and me with the most fantastical stories and adventures, mostly concocted in his head with very little truth to them, yet spoken with such drama and excitement you just wonder where he gets this stuff!

And Duke's and my routine -- a walk in the morning and one more in the evening -- has all of a sudden become more special. I notice the blooms now, the vibrant colors and the mathematics and physics of California's flora and fauna. I've always been a huge addict of "looking up" when I walk so that I can see the curving tree branches, the birds, the perspective that everyone else seems to miss or forget about. Now, I'm just doing that more often, apprehensive about the day that I trip over my own feet or entangle myself in Duke's leash. My daily run on Los Gatos Creek Trail past the ponds and river and dog park and ducks, geese, blue herons, swan is just a tad brighter and more meaningful, and the bike ride to campus -- although always enjoyable -- has become one of patient, warm, and kind "hellos," of slowing down and taking in what I often zoom past.

Obviously knowing that we will not see friends and family for awhile causes some sadness, yes, but also worry. Everyone always asks, "Are you going to miss Nick?", my little brother who has a rare and terminal disease Ataxia-Telengiectasia and who has both mental and physical disabilities. I don't even need to respond to that, but I do with a, "Well, yes." And it's not just missing Nick and my mom, but it's also the guilt of not being around to help. The family understands these things and we know that this is a special time in my life, and it all is what it is. Although I will obviously miss my family and Justin's family, my grandma is the one I will have a lot of trouble leaving behind. Having lived in Cupertino since the 1940s, she maintains a history and aesthetic in her home that transports you back in time. The dark green shag carpet in the living room, the original ovens that I dare never use for fear of burning down the house, the several vintage Cadillacs in the garage that belonged to my Grandpa, a former NASA engineer, genius pianist, and mayor of Cupertino. My grandma and I have a very close relationship that is not shared by my other siblings, which is not their fault: I was just lucky enough that my life choices pushed me to the south bay. I lived with her for my first three years of undergraduate school at SJSU, saving me both money and from the disturbing dorm life and allowing me to focus on my studies in a safe and quiet home. We took early morning walks at Rancho San Antonio almost every morning, and we'd oft go out to breakfast at Country Gourmet in Sunnyvale -- our favorite spot to this day. After returning to the Bay Area three years ago after attaining my Master's degree and getting a job at SJSU, I now visit my grandma at least once a week, sometimes just for company and a swim in her pool, and other times to help with cleaning the house, doctor's appointments, or other obligations. Without my being there, I worry about my grandma's loneliness. All other family live several hours away. Her friends are at the point in their lives when they are having much medical trouble, are losing their minds, or are passing away. Turning 80 this August and in amazing mental and physical health, my grandma struggles with seeing her friends change and knowing that her social circle continues to shrink. I will miss my grandma so much: she is the only person who will "talk books" with me outside my colleagues. We just get each other.

Justin's grandparents are having a hard time. In their 90s, grandma slips away from Alzheimer's and grandpa's physical health continues a painful decline after a long, difficult, and incredible career as a fighter pilot in the Air Force. We will have to come to terms with the fact that when we say goodbye this month, we may not get to see them ever again.

We will be missing out. No more easy trips up to see my mom, siblings, aunts, cousins, in-laws. Justin and I know no one in Pennsylvania and very few people in the Northeast. This will be hard, and that just didn't sink in until recently.

Packing up our belongings has me surrounded by memories. I told Justin, "Packing our stuff gets me so sentimental about everyone in our lives: all the photos, the sweet gifts, the trinkets." He looks at me, a typical man, I guess, and says after a pause, "I just...pack things." Well! For me, it is warming to take down photos I have on my office wall of people: some who are still close to me, others who have gone on to other adventures, and others who have passed away. Two feather medallions given to me by my dear friend Sam get zipped up in a special pouch as a reminder that one day I will make necklace out of them for her and me. Justin's and my wedding pictures get tucked away safely in a box. Gifts from grateful students: wooden ducks from a Korean student, magnets from a Chinese student, a necklace from a girl from Hong Kong: all of these beautiful people from my past flood me with their presence once more. All the lives that I have changed and that have changed me are making the journey to Pennsylvania in small, cardboard boxes.

And lastly, the therapeutic and gratifying act of throwing away things we don't need! Clothes hoarders, we have given away bags to Goodwill. Pieces of furniture that will be easily replaceable and not that important to take along will be thrown on Craigslist and Facebook for strangers and friends to ponder picking up for a few pennies. Yes, we are being washed by the water and beginning again.

Excited, anxious, reflective, here we are tonight, ending another night of packing.

Applying for PhD Programs

Applying for a doctorate degree is serious and challenging. It took a great amount of reflection to see if this path was right for me; focus in order to apply, follow all directions, and write strong statements of purpose; research into programs that fit my interests; support from Justin, my family, my old professors and mentors; and, unfortunately, money to do this right. The process was long, ultimately taking about nine months, and -- thankfully for me -- the process was rewarding.

I began the work last summer, first conversing with Justin to see what he thought. I had been lecturing composition and developmental writing for two years by then, but although interesting, rewarding and challenging, it was not what I received my MA degree in nor what I really wanted to teach. The pay was horrific: if I weren't married, I would qualify for food stamps and low-income housing. For a 50-hour work week, I was paid $30,000 a year after taxes to develop university-level reading, writing, and thinking skills in America's youth. The guilt I had of not being able to contribute more to our household often had me in tears: a dynamic, talented, intelligent young woman such as I could barely afford to pay all of her bills each month. I could not save for our future. I could not see myself ever being able to have a child and support a child. 

However, I love teaching at university. It is a place of peace, youth, learning. There is something calming in this setting that keeps one young and curious. I love it within these walls: I just want to teach my interests, and I'd like to be given a living wage. A PhD would allow me to become an expert in my field, contribute in large ways to my field, while also providing me the pathway to making decent money and a retirement, that is, if I do good work as a student and jump on opportunities as they arise. 

Justin, too, is ready for change. He has been in the same industry for ten years and has worked his way up the ladder, now Assistant Vice President. The environment is highly stressful and vitriolic; he must work with people over the phone all day who yell, scream, pout, and whine like children, all people who have no idea what they are doing, having no clue that they are talking to an expert. Justin comes home very stressed out, and I often worry about his physical and mental health. 

The Bay Area is a highly competitive region. All of our young friends are getting married, having children, and buying homes. If single, these techies, engineers, and business people have the money to spend on vacations, gadgets, cars, toys. Justin is in title and escrow. I'm in teaching. We save up and travel; we save to buy a nice thing here and there. But this competitive lifestyle and region doesn't fit us. We're quiet folk raised in the same quiet county, where life's priorities were much different. We are both ready for a change, and we are both young enough, smart enough, and strong enough, still, to take a big chance and do something incredibly different. 

Originally, I wanted to apply to ten schools. The self-deprecating person that I am, I figured that perhaps one might offer me a place at its institution. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it to my best ability, and I was going to do it right. For example, the Graduate Record Examination (GRE) is a required test that all applicants must take. Depending on the program, it can be important or not important to score well; however, doing well increases your chances not only of admission, but also of funding offers. Thus, I paid for a GRE class in order to do this right. The class met every Wednesday night for two months. I taught four courses all day on Wednesdays, then would rush to the course (thankfully one was offered on my campus) and be in class at night for the next two hours. I also studied on my own with the workbooks. August and September were tiring months for me, and as I look back on it, I do not know how I did it.  

It was absolutely exhausting from day one: finding the time to teach my courses, grade papers, take my GRE course, and research and apply to schools meant that I had to make a lot of changes. First, I quit Facebook, the evil distraction that sucks all of us in, having just returned to it less than two months ago after this process was finished. And I must say, it was great to be away from Facebook. I also took the advice of one of my mentors at Davis and stopped hanging out with people, which saved me time and money, despite making me look like a complete asshole. My mentor advised, "They'll understand, and they'll be there when you return." She was right. My friends are awesome and they completely understood. 

As I learned the cost of applying (GRE class, GRE test, fees to send GRE scores, each application fee, fees to send transcripts), I limited my choices in schools from ten to six. Six schools. Again, having little self-confidence, I just hoped to gain admission to one. These schools, too, required talks with Justin. Hawaii at Manoa has a magnificent Second Language Studies program, and it's frickin' Hawaii! Justin, though, was adamant that he could not live there. Thus, his life and his happiness played a large factor in school choice. The application process required countless hours of research, reading the work of great professors, coming up with an argument as to why they should admit me, how my ideas relate to theirs, and why their program is a great fit for me and my research, and so on and so forth. Proofreading my application over and over, following the very different rules for each university's process, self-doubting myself constantly, timidly asking for letters of recommendation from my professors at Davis, knowing that I was asking them to give up their valuable time for me -- all of this required a particular state of mind and a will to improve myself, something that I've always possessed and that has allowed me to be a leader and a challenger since I was young. 

The first applications were due in early December; the very last was due on February 1. I ended up applying to Stanford, University of Wisconsin-Madison, University of Illinois-Urbana-Champaign, Michigan State, Penn State, and University of Pennsylvania. I got into four of six schools: the ivy leagues (Stanford and UPenn) wanted nothing to do with me, sending me the most generic letters of declination. However, the other four sent me incredible offers. Unfortunately, Wisconsin's Second Language Acquisition program is funded and staffed quite oddly, and I was not able to receive the spot that I was looking for. However, Illinois, Michigan State, and Penn State provided wonderful offers: full funding, living stipend, health insurance. I received a wonderful and attractive Distinguished Fellowship at Michigan State that soared well above the normal funding package, and I received a scholarship at Penn State above their normal package, too. Therefore, self-deprecating Katie Masters did quite well! Wow. Four of six ain't bad. 

To add to the expenses, I had to travel out to the three universities. Again, this was a huge move for us and we needed to be completely sure of our options. Michigan State flew me out there and back -- what a treat. They really pulled for me, and Justin and I totally loved it there: the environment, the campus, the program, the people. It was such a cool place (literally, the snow just wouldn't stop coming down)! Justin could not take more time off work, so he traveled home, while I rented a car and headed south to Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. What a trip. One day I was driving through Illinois cornfields and the very next I was back teaching in the classroom in California. It was an exhausting but much-needed journey. Urbana-Champaign was a gorgeous school and the program was phenomenal. I would have loved to attend there, but it was truly in the middle of nowhere. I was worried about Justin's job opportunities and our overall happiness. While out at Michigan State, I received an email that I had been admitted to Penn State, so Justin and I planned a trip there for a few weeks later.

Penn State was incredible. From day one it was my top choice of school. The Vygotskian vibe of the Applied Linguistics department called to me immediately, and all the big names in socio- and applied linguistics are there: James Lantolf, Suresh Canagarajah, Karen E. Johnson, Celeste Kinginger, Joan Kelly Hall and so many more people whose work I've read and admired for years. I loved the solitude of State College: it's Amish country, right smack in the middle of the state. Quiet forests surround a gorgeous university full of some of the most elite student and faculty minds in the country. The one problem: it's solitude might prove tricky for Justin to find work. His happiness and well-being are just as important as mine; this was a team decision and he needed to be comfortable. Justin flew out a couple of days after I was there, and he really loved the area. He could visualize us there, and he completely supported me, whether I chose Penn State or Michigan State. 

When we got home, we talked and thought a lot. Both places, Michigan and Pennsylvania, would be great. It almost could have come down to a flip of a coin. I am an incredibly lucky woman to have the full support of Justin in this decision: he was behind me no matter what. It was ultimately up to me. I went back and forth for weeks. I produced a pros and cons list. I talked to many professors, mentors, friends, and family. I wanted to gain as much advice as possible, whether I took it or not. Ultimately, I chose Penn State. It was my dream school, the program offered me an incredible package, and Justin felt strongly that he could find work there, despite its remoteness. 

Nine months later, I had chosen my next step. Unbelievable. All of that work, focus, stress, self-doubt, and exhaustion led me to have an incredible choice of universities, including my dream school, which I will now be attending in the fall. 

I have always had this character within me: if I wanted something, I went and got it. I was always very focused, very creative, and very talented. I am a talented drummer, having played for over 20 years now. I played every sport growing up, but in high school was a championship snowboarder, one of the best downhill racers in the nation. I worked so hard to become that! I forced myself out of an incredibly shy demeanor in high school and joined drama. Acting in many plays throughout high school, I was thrilled senior year to become second lead in Electra, playing Electra's sister Chrysothemus. I built the stage for Much Ado About Nothing and was sound design for Hair. After I graduated high school, I took a chance and traveled through Europe with friends. In college, I found myself in honors programs and being asked to TA and take graduate courses as an undergrad. As a MA student at Davis, I took a chance to get involved in work in Nicaragua, a project that I've now been a part of for five years. I did all of this, from high school to grad school, often working two jobs, also. I just go and do. I see something, and I want it, so I figure out how to get it. I don't do it all by myself. It takes extreme support and love from those close to me, and who see something within me that I might not always see myself, but nonetheless, the ultimate goal is mine to attain. 

The application process was hard, but the actual program at Penn State will be even harder. The only way I can do this is with the continued support of Justin and my family. Justin leaves in late June to continue his job search and find housing for us. I am teaching summer school and will leave in early August. We look forward to many firsts: buying our own home, having a child, continuing our small business in a different place. This is going to be very hard for us, but we aren't the first to do it, nor will we be the last. Uprooting a life and moving it across the country takes a lot of guts and faith. So here we go: we'll keep you posted! 

The first week of summer break

My average 50- to-55-hour week with no weekends has come abruptly to an end. If there were no such thing as summer break, then the nation would have a real hard time finding teachers to put up with the politics, the administration, students, and -- thankfully not in my case -- parents on a year-round basis. The psychological abuses that we take from all sides are enough to make anyone "crazy" for wanting to be an educator; however, the job is a calling for those who want to make the world a better place, one young mind at a time (or, realistically, 100 minds per semester, 200 minds per year for me. For K-12 teachers, that number doubles. I have so much respect for them!). We are managers. We manage hundreds of people a year: the content that they learn; how they will best retain that content through differently-structured activities and lectures; behavioral issues (yes, even in college, this millenial generation thinks it can just "call my dad" if the professor is "being mean" [i.e. not giving in to the youths' bullying tactics for a grade they don't deserve]). This is the only job that requires one to speak the entire day, be "on" the entire day, catch the attention of listeners the entire day. Most people cringe at having to give a 10-15 minute presentation for class or for a meeting. I do an hour-and-fifteen minute presentation -- four of them -- back to back to back to back. This work is difficult and exhausting. I actually lose my voice at the beginning of each semester because I talk so much! Luckily for me, though, this work is also rewarding and fun. Most of my students are bright, respectful, kind. I look onto their faces and breathe a slight sigh of relief because I think that they will make a huge and positive impact on the planet. Most of them.

Now, though, it is sweet summer break. Unfortunately, I will be teaching summer school to gain much-needed funds to move across the country in August to begin a PhD program at Penn State. And that move is why I have started this blog: my husband Justin and I want to share our reflections and journeys with our loved ones, since we will be so far away. I thought I would begin now, in early summer, as I have been deeply reflective and sentimental lately about leaving California. I am a sixth-generation Californian, which is unheard of, and both sides of my family have a lot of history here. Now is a great time to begin a blog, for I am house sitting way out in the Santa Cruz mountains for three weeks, caring for a massive and beautiful property and home, two dogs and five cats, overlooking several beautiful views of the mountains:

East view off of the deck

Here is my therapy. Justin and Duke come up to spend time with me on the weekends, but mostly I am alone up here, and it feels so good on my heart. This place reminds me of my home -- I grew up in Pollock Pines, just west of South Lake Tahoe, in a large home on property overlooking nothing but forest. I had only five neighbors, all but one far enough away that you could barely see their homes through the trees. My childhood chores involved chopping and stacking wood in the summer and fall, and shoveling the long driveway of snow in the winter, among many more duties. My character was built on outside work and outside play, and this home that I am currently caring for brings me back there. The owners have bats living above the garage, and I sweep up their droppings and place them in a bucket for fertilizer for their land. They also compost and have a gorgeous garden. Four swarms of beautiful, gentle bees are kept here, and they make the sweetest honey. I walk the long, steep, winding driveway each day to also care for a few homeless kitties down the way. The watering and care that Justin and I do around the property takes a big chunk of the day, and it feels so good and right: this is the kind of work that humans should be doing; they shouldn't be stuck in an office all day. They should be out in the land building and maintaining life. 

Keeping Bees

The property is right down the road from Uvas Canyon County Park, an open space reserve full of beautiful walking trails. Justin and I have our morning walks there on the weekends. We'll bring the dogs today. I brought up my bicycle and look forward to some road biking on these winding roads. Although road biking always has its dangers, this space outside Morgan Hill is quite bike friendly, especially since Specialized has its headquarters just down the road. Most people who live around here are aware of us on the road. The hiking around the property and up the driveway give us extra exercise, as well. I'm hoping that the twelve pounds I gained applying to graduate school (meaning not having time to exercise!) will melt away with such work. 

Justin and I hiking around Uvas Canyon County Park

Being up here has allowed me to focus on me: on my future graduate career, on Justin's and my beautiful and healthy marriage, on our goals. Every day I spend hours studying, as I have been away from the field of socio- and applied linguistics for three years, teaching composition and developmental writing, instead. Though I am good at it and find it rewarding, that is not my passion. My passion lies in languages, language ideology and policy, as well as the construction of identity through language, language learning, and language teaching. Since I have been up here, I constantly read and write in my two other languages, Spanish and German, every day. I do hours of exercises and activities, and immerse myself in intellectual activity, activity that unfortunately writing instructors are robbed of throughout most of the year, as they must put aside their own reading and writing to read and grade the often half-assed, incoherent writing and thoughts of students. 

Justin and I have spent much time up here looking for housing and jobs in Pennsylvania. We have talked to a great many people and are anxious to get out there and get going! Justin leaves in late June; he has a sublease for the summer so that he can more easily find housing for us. He and his friend Curtis are road tripping out there, taking the 80 the entire way. My sister and I are roadtripping in early August, right after I finish summer school. We will take the 50 through our hometown and then through Ely, Nevada, which borders Utah and is where my grandfather grew up. We will then drive through Utah and Colorado (enjoying Grand Junction and Denver), up through Iowa to see a friend and then to Illinois, stopping to see a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. From Illinois, we will drive through Indiana and Ohio until we reach the other side of the 80 in State College, Pennsylvania. My sister will then fly back to Sacramento. 

As I end three years as a lecturer at San Jose State University, I have a lot of healing to do, which is another reason why being up here in the mountains right now feels so good. Although much of my experience was very good there, I also had a terrible time in other regards. Thankfully, the good outweighed the bad: I was surrounded by many outstanding colleagues who cared about their craft and their students and from whom I learned a tremendous amount about teaching and learning. A couple of older, tenured female faculty stood out as amazing mentors through my professional development and my application and admission process for graduate school. I formed some very dear and close friendships with several of the faculty and graduate students my age. My students were so cool! Gosh, I had great students. For the most part, they were beautiful young people, an inspiration to continue teaching at a university. 

Justin, Duke, Tango, and Twyla giving us a workout!

I won't discuss the negative times, as they aren't worth remembering, but as I heal from them, I don't need to mope for long before my incredible husband fills me with companionship, happiness, laughter, teases -- the strongest love imaginable. And while miserable people stalk, sulk, blame, talk shit, and plot, I just enjoy my day oblivious to the nonsense. Justin and I have something that such people do not have, nor ever will have: a future. And ours is bright. We are buying our first home together, planning for children, continuing our amazing and highly successful longboard skateboard company, moving to Pennsylvania! We are constantly improving our hearts and minds. We're a team, and this life is ours. We're in charge of it. Success, yes, beautiful success, be it personal or professional, is the best revenge. Let the petty be petty, for Justin and I have bigger fish to fry! Literally -- one of the homes we are looking at has a salmon stream running through it.