I can honestly say that most of my life has consisted of hating research. I have denied ever wanting to obtain a doctoral degree simply of the hours of diligent research that proceeds the writing of a dissertation which is followed by a grilling defense. I have always believed that I would never get myself involved in something that forced me to spend hours on end searching for clues, supportive statements, or information that would lead me into a deeper understanding of something. However, as I am standing here, attempting to piece together something meaningful I have realized that I am in fact a researcher. I suppose that for me, the self proclaimed hater of research has finally found a facet of life that makes this meaningful. Stumbling across this notion I have realized that it is not necessarily "research" that I loathed, yet the act of searching for something that provoked no interest in myself. I have hated searching for meaning in the meaningless, despised the act of searching for something that a higher power and instructed me was the determination of whether I had intelligence. I have discovered, rather sheeplishly, that I love this act of discovery. Although the tedious nature is something I have always turned a frustrated back on, I have realized that it is not the hours of digging that I loath it is the hours of pointless searching for an answer I care little for.
What I search for now are things I care for, I search for meaning and I search for what will help others discover their own meanings. I research for the best possible introductions, I do not search for answers. I continue to find ideas that perk my spirit and instill in me a need to find out more. I do not find answers, I do not find truth because I realize that there is no such thing. What I decide is right today may be entirely different tomorrow, and that my friends finds me with peace.

Preparing for the next step

I am finding myself moments away from my first days as a teacher. It's really amazing to think that my life's work as a student is finally culminating. I am going to step into my classroom on Monday as Ms. Raskin, apparently an alter-ego in itself. I can't wait, but find myself terrified at the fact that I am going to make a difference in someone else's life--or worse, have no impact at all. I've been trying, over the past few days, to put together a unit on a book set during the Iranian Revolution. I love the book, yet continually am finding it difficult to find out what I really want my students to take away. I've flirted with the middle eastern experience, and having very little understanding of it myself am becoming increasingly frustrated. It's so exciting to continue learning, but feels like a let down to find that there's very little for me to stand on...