Pennsylvania Humanities Council

Just a few notes today.  I am not feeling particularly “loquacious” as my favorite Hermione Granger puts it (I am such a nerd).  Today I got to write a blog post for the next taping of our show Humanities on the Road, which basically will tell people what the presentation will be about and is intended to “hook” them in.  (By the way, this was offered with the enticement that now when people google my name, my post will come up…woo? Unless I manage to become the next Miley Cyrus (and that ship has sailed) I don’t see that happening)  It is an interesting type of writing because my supervisors at PHC want it to be purely informational, but it makes me wonder what the point of a blog is…when I think of a blog, I assume it will be editorial in nature, hopefully even with a little bit of funny sprinkled in there somewhere.  Not a requirement, but definitely a plus.  Over the years, I have found it more and more difficult to write in a way that eliminates my personal voice.  I find writing research papers interesting but stifling, and in the end I’m always left feeling that this type of writing is a bit…dry.  I understand that I am supposed to write diplomatically about Thaddeus Stevens (the subject of my work for today at PHC) and his hugely radical work as an abolitionist, but I have a hard time saying in more flowery terms that he could also be a bit of a prick.  Saying he had a “sharp tongue” only takes you so far.  It makes me wonder what this kind of writing achieves.  I understand that it isn’t particularly “well-bred” to say that this great historical figure was a prick, but it can be really frustrating to hide his “prickishness” behind lots of words and subtle meanings.  I think this outspokenness is an important part of his character, and quite frankly, I respect it.

The irony of this just struck me because Thaddeus Stevens was notorious for essentially calling out President Abraham Lincoln (and anybody else who angered/displeased him) for what Stevens perceived to be his sluggish and cowardly reluctance to abolish slavery.  I figure if you will lay it down on Lincoln, you’ll probably lay it down on just about anybody…and look how much Stevens accomplished.  Through sheer will power and brutal honesty, he made things happen that nobody else could have in that time.  I think we could really take a lesson from Stevens.

I’m not much of a history buff (I actually really hate history, unless it entails what Julia Roberts wore to each of the past Oscars ceremonies for the last ten years), but today I just have to say:

THADDEUS STEVENS, YOU MAY HAVE BEEN A JERK AT TIMES, BUT I RESPECT THAT.

Let me just say that working 9-5 every day is rough.  Given my rather busy/grueling schedule (that still leaves time for me to procrastinate in endless ways) during the school year, I somehow expected that working 9-5 might be…easier.  False.  False false false.  I like to take my time when I wake up in the morning, so I get up at 7 am to get dressed and eat my cereal while I catch up on my celebrity gossip.  By 8 am I’m out the door and walking to the train station, where I catch the R100 and ride to 69th street.  Then I get on the subway til 5th street, and by about 9:05 I am rolling into work, by which time my day may already be: a) going just fine, b) going down the toilet, or c) just a fog.  At this time during the school year, I consider it productive to be awake!

There are so many little things I find exciting (every single one of which makes me that much nerdier) about feeling like a “real person.”  I love having a commute and working in Philly.  Interacting with people outside of the Haverford community somehow makes my experience more tangible.  It reminds me that I can be a functioning individual outside of a college campus!  I love that I have to take an elevator to my floor, although admittedly, I could take the stairs, but 7 flights feels like it would burn just enough to make going to the gym after work even more unappealing.  I love that I have an ID to get into the building, even though nobody checks it and I just waltz right in, ID or no ID.  I have keys to get into my office, and to use the bathroom on our floor, which also feels pretty fun.  These little details of the working world make my experience that much more colorful.

One time, on a flight home for the weekend, the man I was sitting next to repeatedly offered me a drink because he had a coupon for an in-flight cocktail.  This wasn’t at all in a creepy way, he was just friendly, so after we got to talking for awhile about our respective destinations, he asked me where I worked.  I was so excited that somebody thought of me as something other than a college kid.  I didn’t want to tell him that I was a student, so I replied that I was in my first year working for a publishing house.  I am a notoriously bad liar, so much so that I never even try.  But for some reason in this moment it felt really easy to talk about a life that was the result of my dreams and ambitions rather than reality.  These details were not altogether made up, they simply hadn’t happened yet.

I thought about this interaction for weeks afterwards.  What had inspired me to essentially pretend I was someone else?  I realized that I wasn’t pretending to be someone else, but rather I was trying on who I thought I wanted to be and what I’ve always wanted to do.  It also dawned on me that this summer isn’t much different.  My keys to the office and the (unused) building ID feel like accessories to this facade that I get to live out for three months.  And while I’ve romanticized many parts of being a working woman, it is also really hard.  I’ve always been a night owl, but suddenly 10:30 pm rolls around and my eyelids are drooping.  My friends have been commenting that they never see me…and every time I attempt to justify my geriatric behavior, I think to myself saucily, “I am a workin woman!”

I have a newfound and deep respect for people in the working world, and especially women, though I can’t figure out where the distinction came from.  Perhaps it’s because I babysit sometimes, and that combined with my work schedule makes me wonder how anybody does this every day.  One thing I’m glad for is that at the end of my work day, I can come back home to Haverford and drop my assumed role as a “professional” and simply feel like a college kid again, because in my fantasies, no working woman eats cereal for dinner most nights the way I do.  I’m a hybrid of the two, rather than one or the other; I’m really enjoying getting to try on this other version of myself, because one day soon (much sooner than I’d care to think about) my practice will pay off… and hopefully it will be just as fun.

Despite all the dreaming I did growing up about all the things I might do—become a lawyer, write a book, own a book shop—working for a non-profit never really crossed my mind.  I always knew what the phrase meant, but I never really understood the connotations behind it.  I have friends working for both non-profit and regular firms, and when the ones working somewhere “for profit” talk about it, they usually respond, “yeah… I’m one of the jerks.”  But I don’t think that’s it at all!  Having worked in both environments, I’m coming to understand that really the two just come with very different concerns.

At PHC, fundraising is at the forefront of the collective thought process; quite simply, it’s where everything here starts.  Naturally, as a non-profit, we don’t have as much money to work with as other organizations might.  This creates a rather unique tension between spending what is necessary to create a professional and fulfilling program while also accounting for every dollar in a responsible manner.  There’s never enough time, and there’s never enough money.

Another lesson I’m learning in the non-profit world is that you have to be more polite.  I like to think that, as a nice mid-western girl, I am well-mannered and respectful in my interactions with people.  At the same time however, I think it can become necessary to raise certain concerns in a professional manner.  There doesn’t seem to be as much room for this in non-profit, and I am trying to understand why.  If certain board members do not do what we ask of them, we simply do it ourselves and don’t say anything.  Or: last week, I attended a taping for PHC’s television program Humanities on the Road, and there was no air conditioning…this may not sound like much of a problem, but it was a very large and stuffy building (and very well-funded, I might add).  It was almost 90 degrees outside, and even hotter inside, so naturally we had to constantly pause taping to wipe sweat off of our main speaker.  If there was ever a time I desired a few personal minions to wave palm fronds at me while I lounged, it was in that moment.  Though people at PHC were annoyed that nobody from the building staff alerted them that there would be no AC (especially when there would be several bright spotlights for the speakers, and cameras everywhere), nobody said much other than they were glad it was over.  Maybe this is because it isn’t worth the effort?  That there are so many better things we could spend our time on, given that our efforts are limited and the work is limitless?  I’m not quite sure, but I suppose I shall figure it out eventually.  Maybe this isn’t special to the non-profit world, but rather to the working world in general.  I guess these are my Haverfordian confrontation values at work!

I’m eager to better understand this rather fragile balance that seems to characterize the non-profit world.  In the meantime, I promise that I will never be upset with my mom again for having the AC on when it’s hot out.

My view from the office

Considering that this blog is comprised of my thoughts and reflections on working for the Pennsylvania Humanities Council, it is hard to start an entry when I feel entirely speechless. Sleeping last night was a joke–I kept waking up to assure myself that I hadn’t missed my alarm, and I was riddled with jitters that I just couldn’t shake.

Navigating the public transportation system was an adventure in itself, but luckily I had two good friends to show me the ropes. When I emerged from the underground subway stop, I was assaulted by the sounds (and smells, I might add) of the city, and I wasn’t quite sure which way I was supposed to go. I mustered up as much bravado as I could manage and I simply went in a certain direction, which luckily ended up being right! That’s definitely a first.

My first day at PHC was calm yet still nerve-wracking.  I don’t have much in the way of actual work yet, but I am becoming acquainted with how the office runs, and meeting all the PHC employees.  When I first interviewed for the internship, I was so full of hope and ambition.  I could just feel that my world was going to get a little bigger.  The jitters were (and are) so persistent because I simply am not quite sure what this bigger world is going to look like to me, or how I’m going to fit into it.  Like any other college kid, I wonder if I am actually prepared for this job.  Am I qualified to do any of this?  Perhaps not.  But Haverford has taught me that if I ask questions, do my research, and hand it in with a smile, I could at least seem qualified.  I’m starting to realize that the qualities that make someone “qualified” aren’t always how many proofs they’ve done, whether or not they know how to write a press release, or whether or not they can use Photoshop, but rather it is a willingness to learn, and learn quickly, dedicating oneself to a project whole-heartedly.

So while my new view is a little mind-boggling–how did I get here when 10 years ago my two biggest idols were Posh Spice and Evie from “The Mummy”??–I hope it stays that way for awhile.

I am so excited to work with these wonderful people at the Pennsylvania Humanities Council.