Some of my favorite childhood memories stem from Grandma J’s house. It was one of the smallest two-story houses on one of the busiest streets of the city, but all I remember is how big it was in my eyes. It was a place where big memories were made. I can remember sledding down the hill that led to her backyard with my cousins, playing house in the abandoned bedrooms upstairs, and finding Easter eggs in her sitting room when it was rainy outside. Most of all, though, I remember decorating Grandma’s tree the weekend before Christmas every year. She would play Andy Williams records and cousins, aunts, and uncles would gather in her little kitchen to eat hamburgers and chili. She was the only one I knew who used real tinsel on her tree and even though we made a mess that haunted her Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Category: Blog
A Little Roseanne in All of Us
There was something oddly refreshing about watching the TV show Roseanne when it was in its prime. I was in my early 20s when it gained popularity and I remember not only laughing with the TV family but also laughing at my own family in comparison. From unemployment and dysfunctional relationships to dreams of escaping a “lower class” lifestyle, the show publicized the worst traits of the American family that no one had the guts to admit. We laughed at Roseanne on the outside and we laughed with Roseanne on the inside. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Foot-Friendly Writing Techniques
I’m a messy, unfocused writer at times. I make lists, slop words on a page, rant, rave, and then try to make sense of the mess. As I regularly explain to my Composition students, writing is naturally messy, but the process of cleaning up the mess is when the real writing begins. In order to craft a piece that is cohesive, concise, and focused, writers need to find personal strategies and processes that produce perfection. For me, finding my focus involves an odd tradition that has worked for me throughout the past 10 years – I put on my tennis shoes. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Mom, Mommy, Mum, Ma
A few days ago, I watched an episode of Family Guy and laughed so hard at the scene where Stewie consistently calls for his mom. “Lois, Mom, Mommy, Mum, Ma …” and repeat (video clip). Most parents can relate. We are in demand at all times and the beckoning sounds like a broken record. Kids are impatient, time consuming and even annoying with their demands. Some evenings, I swear I’ll scream if I hear the word “mom” one more time. But, the reality is that I am “mom” and it’s a term of endearment that I wouldn’t trade for the world. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Why I’m a Selfish Teacher
Before I was a parent, I never bought into the line “this hurts me more than you.” If I was getting grounded or disciplined, how in the world did it pain my mom more than me? But, as an instructor, the phrase bears a hint of truth. It does hurt me when a student fails, which is why I continue to be a selfish teacher. My agenda is selfish – I want to grow and learn, too, and failure is not an option. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
I’m Young, Not Dumb
As a college instructor, I’m relatively young compared to my peers. I don’t have 20+ years experience teaching nor have I been in the journalism field that long. However, just because I’m young, it does not mean that I’m dumb. Academia can be an intimidating environment for newcomers. Ironically, in an industry that is supposed to foster fresh, new learning opportunities, the practices at some colleges and universities often discourage any type of change. The ideology of “that’s not how we do it” stops innovation in its tracks and stalls progress for both faculty and students. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Today’s Twitter Fave Five
I’ll admit it. I’m addicted to Twitter. Beyond the laughs I get from the wittiness @fakeapstylebook and @menwithpens, I have been drawn to Twitter for information I get in a minute’s notice. I don’t have to weed through RSS feeds or independent sites to get local, national, and international news; instead, I browse 140 characters of briefs that give me the option to read further if I choose to do so. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Writing: One Wild Ride
Many people often view writing as a chore – a painful task that invades their peaceful existence or one that is forced upon them in a classroom or work setting. Even as a writer, I sometimes find writing a challenging, heart-wrenching act but in the end, it is what I do again and again. For some, writing is like riding a bike. You work really hard to balance and build momentum – sometimes you take your hands off the handle bars and crash and burn; sometimes you breeze through the streets, storing up the adventure in that little wicker basket on the front end. Whether you crash and burn or master an impressive wheelie, most typically choose to keep on riding, take risks, hop on the two wheels, and continue with the journey. It’s always a wild ride – a different journey each time – a journey, though, that few eagerly attempt or welcome without dread. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Adding Insult to Injury: Just Sayin’
One of my favorite comedians, Henry Cho, has a hilarious bit where he talks about how to insult someone in a kind manner. In this particular standup routine, he details how his wife’s southern family will cut someone down and then add “God bless her soul.” She definitely has some junk in the trunk, God bless her soul. His singing sounds like a sick bird, God bless his soul. The cook needs cooking lessons, God bless her soul. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
The Long Road to Thanksgiving
Six years ago, it seemed like my world was falling apart. I was newly single, struggling with the stigma that accompanied divorce; I was working three jobs to make ends meet and provide the basics for my children; and I was finishing up my degree, with hopes of a better life – all while mentally struggling to make sense of a new lifestyle as a single mom. At the time, one of my jobs as a reporter for a small religious newspaper put me in daily contact with people who sacrificed themselves for others without a second thought. They truly knew the meaning of giving. Ironically, though, during my bout of self-pity, all I could see was the devastating reality I was living. As Thanksgiving rolled around, it was difficult for me to truly reflect on my blessings until one person changed my life with a subtle action. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Shannon Philpott-Sanders 