choice

Presence

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We are our own worst critics. As someone who was born and raised in the fast-paced, competitive environment of the east coast, I am no exception. I am always harder on myself than anyone else.

Recently, my husband and I had the great fortune of going on an early anniversary trip. It was just the two of us. No agenda, no plans, no timelines. It was bliss. We tooled all over “Up North,” went out to dinner, went to a winery. I took some photos of our trip and posted some of them on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter. Probably all three. But, I didn’t post every one and the ones I did post weren’t in chronological order. In one of them, my hair was a mess (so, I thought) and my eyes were all squinty. Darn that sun!

Both of our boys are participating in organized sports this spring. I have taken some photos and posted a few. I should’ve posted more of them. What if someone notices that there are three photos of L but only two of C? I should get more up there. I should take a picture of C with his coach and his team at their final game tonight. I should print them out and mail them to my grandmother.

We have three beautiful lilac bushes in our front yard. They sit right under the windows in our living room. They are so huge that you can see and smell them from across the street. This is my favorite season. Our lilacs are late bloomers and they are white, not purple.

Last week, L and I were playing outside. We were tracing each other with sidewalk chalk. He gave me huge high heels in pink, my favorite color. When I traced him, I was instructed to include his hat. “Make sure you get my hat Momma. Because I am a baseball player.” While we were outside, I kept getting luscious wafts of lilac. The breeze would kick up and I could taste them on my tongue. I should’ve gotten my phone, taken a photo, and then posted it on Instagram. It would have been very artsy.

Instead, I ignored the “shoulds” and kept coloring with my son. When were done, we walked over to the lilacs together and inhaled.

I am working on presence. Physical, mental, emotional presence not social media presence. Just because I didn’t post photos for everyone else to comment on and “like” doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. There are moments that should belong to just me and my family. That’s a should I am okay with. Those lilacs sure do smell wonderful.

Finding a partner you can move on “with,” not from

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June 12
What was the best decision you ever made?
Niki

The best decision I ever made was to have a “relationship defining talk” with a co-worker whom I thought I was starting to have feelings for.

I had no idea that when I took my first “real” student affairs job in 1999 that it would lead me to my best friend. I had never even heard of Hope College or Holland, MI. Heck, back then, I am not really sure I could have correctly placed Michigan on a map. But, I got heavily recruited at a professional conference, interviewed, got the job, etc. etc. Second year into the position, one of my co-workers and my only friend in the entire state of Michigan leaves me! Her leaving set the process in motion to hire another hall director. We interview a bunch of candidates and Sean is one of them. The only thing I remember about his interview was that he had a lot of experience and nice eyes.

We spent almost every day together the first weeks of the semester. RA training, meetings, fire drills, crappy cafeteria food (breakfast, lunch, and dinner), meetings, meetings. You really get to know someone pretty well when you are in all those meetings! Sean is also Catholic, so we went to church together and bonded over being the only Catholic people in tall, white, blonde, Reformed, Dutch, West Michigan.

One weekend I went away to see my sister play soccer. The whole drive back to Holland, I thought about how I needed and wanted to talk to Sean to tell him about it and to tell him I was back safe. Call him up. He was waiting for me to call, too. Huh. We work together. We work together all the time at a really small conservative institution. Huh.

One week later we are driving to a mall (I don’t even remember what for) and I tell him that I think we are flirting with each other. That I think I like him. That I think he likes me, too. But also that I don’t want to read into anything. He turns to me and says, “I like you. Read into that.” Best relationship defining talk ever.

10.5 years later we are still together and have faced some challenging times (see next answer below). There is no one else I want to walk with along the way.

June 10
What was your hardest parenting or partner moment?
Dana

When I first read this, I honestly thought that my answer would be our son’s cancer diagnosis. Devastating. Crushing. Life-altering. However, that has not been the hardest part. For me, the hardest part has been the “moving on” into the world of cancer survivorship and the “off-treatment” life.

Our son is a cancer survivor.

Or, our son is a CANCER survivor.

Or, our son is a cancer SURVIVOR.

The moving-on has been harder than I thought. For me, the off-treatment life has been a constant negotiation of vigilance and paranoia; and whichever one I choose depends on the day. A cough is not a cough. When my son gets a fever or a stomachache, I panic and I must choke the waves back down or I will drown. Sometimes I feel like there is too much cancer in my life. Sometimes I have bouts of “survivor guilt” because our son made it and so many others do not. Other days, I am madder than hell and I don’t feel guilty at all because every child diagnosed should have the chance to survive.

My husband is kind, patient, hard-working, funny, passionate, devoted, loyal, and an optimist. I am some of those things and a slightly pessimistic realist. His focus is truly on the moving on. He believes and acts as if you can move on without forgetting. I know he is right. I know that I can have our experience with the C word shape and mold me, but not define me. I just don’t know how or where to go. Yet.

What you do speaks so loudly, that I cannot here what you say

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This is the post that I submitted to the Women in Student Affairs (WISA) blog.

Growing up, my mother used to say this all the time. Like most children, I rolled my eyes and walked away. Now, I am the mother. I am also a wife; PhD; advocate for childhood cancer awareness, funding, and research; an academic specialist/advisor at an amazing Big Ten University; and a mid-career, higher education professional who is still trying to figure out who and what she wants to be when she grows up. In these roles that I negotiate, people are watching how I behave and paying less attention to what I say. On a cognitive level, I know this. In parenting and in student affairs, we lovingly refer to this as “the fish bowl effect.” We live in a glass bowl where our words, actions, and mistakes occur out in the open for all of the world to see and to judge.

It is one thing to know that people are watching me and it is quite another to let that knowledge influence my choices. My two young sons are watching everything I do. Every choice I make, whether intentionally or unintentionally, sends them a message about the choices and sacrifices I am willing to make for them and our family. My choices also show them how much I value myself and my own well-being.

I finished my doctoral studies in August 2010 and immediately began searching for “the next step” position. I had the credentials, the requisite years of experience, and the desire to be a mid-level, mid-career professional. I applied for many, many positions. On the recommendation of some colleagues, I applied for and was offered a Director-level position at a small, Catholic school. I bought some new professional clothes. With my degree in hand and self-righteous assuredness, off I went to my next step. I had made it!

I worked hard. I met some wonderful colleagues. I got to teach a first-year seminar course. I was a voting member of six or seven different university committees. I managed a quarter of a million dollar operating budget and I supervised five professional staff. On paper, it is the next step position.

That is what it looked like on the outside. On the inside, I was tired. All the time. I was spending three hours a day in my car. On a bad day in the snow, it was more like five hours. I was not exercising, ever. I never ate breakfast with my boys. I missed almost every event at their school. I missed my husband and my children. I had severely underestimated the physical, emotional, and financial toll that commuting would take on me and my family.

Worst of all, I wasn’t being true to myself because I wasn’t bringing everything I could to each of my roles. I was not living with integrity. I said to myself and to anyone who would listen that my family was most important. But, my life was not letting me be with them. When I walked in the door at 530pm every night, one of my sons would not speak to me because he suddenly realized that I wasn’t there before and he was mad. I am sure it felt like I was never there. It felt that way to me, too. Yet, every chance I got, I was touting myself as an example of someone who was successfully negotiating mid-career, family, and personal interests/passions. I was openly advocating for working mothers and mid-career professionals, “Look, I am doing it! So can you!”

Integrity is defined as: 1) adherence to moral and ethical principles, soundness of moral character, honesty; 2) the state of being whole, entire, or undiminished; and 3) a sound, unimpaired, perfect condition. I was not living a life of integrity. I was not being honest with myself or my employer. I was certainly not in a state of being whole, and I was not in perfect condition.

In November, I accepted a position at a university ten minutes from my house. I let go of my Director-level position. I gave up my seat at the Alice Manicur Symposium; hopefully another mid-level, mid-career professional was able to go and get from it all that she could. I no longer commute. I exercise at lunch now. The other day I helped a young woman with her resume and I introduced her to Twitter. These things do not make me a hero. But, they are little things that I am doing to re-align my words and my actions.

I eat breakfast with my boys every morning. Some days, I take my children to school. I am re-connecting with other working moms. When I get home, both of my boys greet me at the door and we go play, because I can. I have the time and mental energy to blog and tweet and volunteer with childhood cancer organizations about which I am passionate. I made choices that work for me and I am doing the best I can to actively live in to those choices. I am happier than I have been in almost two years.

Who is watching you? Your supervisees. Your supervisor. Your children. Your partner. Maybe a new professional is watching you and wondering if the student affairs “lifestyle” is really something s/he wants. Maybe it is a mid-career professional who is deciding between taking the leap to the “next position” and leaving the profession altogether. What are your choices telling others about who and what you value? Are you living with integrity?

Life is indeed a trade-off, a constant negotiation of roles, responsibilities, and choices. Turns out, my mother was right. What people do speaks volumes about who they are and who they value. I need to parent, lead, and work with integrity. There are two very important people watching me.

Bio
-Monica Marcelis Fochtman, Ph.D. is an academic specialist at Michigan State University. She is married with two young children. She also volunteers with the St. Baldrick’s Foundation, raising money and awareness for childhood cancer research.

Connect with Monica on Twitter: at @monicamfochtman or email mfochtman@hc.msu.edu