Someone With a Pen: Richard Grayson’s Diary

Monday, February 4, 2002

6 PM. Today was a stressful day, and I see that if I’m going to succeed at my job, I need to find a strategy for handling the stresses and pressures without having a nervous breakdown.

At our last therapy session in Arizona, Susan said that I’d always been resourceful, and I’d like to believe that’s true. But I don’t want to fall into the abyss of anxiety, and I’m not quite sure how to do that when I feel so overwhelmed.

Seeing Joanne Harvest Koren’s program at the University of Miami today just reinforced how much I have to do. During the four hours I was at UM, she stressed that her program didn’t happen all at once.

Even now, her program has three components, including the original one, the Dean’s Fellows’ first-year study groups – which track our ARP study groups.

Her Dean’s Fellows are given a stipend for the semester and work very hard. I attended one of their group sessions with Joanne, and it’s so systematized – there are detailed syllabi – that I’m scared I would be unable to do that in a million years.

At UM Law, a Dean’s Fellowship is a coveted position, and she has no problem attracting good candidates. Joanne selects them in consultation with the faculty.

They have to attend the first-year course again, and they hold one office hour and two sessions per week. (But their first-year classes are twice as big as ours, so we don’t need to divide them into two sections.)

Having DF sessions is mandatory for the first-year classes; faculty members are unable to opt out of the program the way ours do.

Another component of Joanne’s program is the Writing Center, staffed by Dean’s Fellows selected specifically for that position. It’s a place where the door is always open.

Students can come in at any time with papers that have already been graded – or more likely, with seminar papers, moot court arguments, or writing samples that students want to show law firms.

The Writing Center is also a place where students can ask other students questions about anything related to law school, as the Dean’s Fellows tend to be involved in many activities.

The final component in Joanne’s program, at least in the spring semester, is weekly exam-writing workshops for 1Ls, 2Ls and 3Ls, which are taught or facilitated by still other Dean’s Fellows – though Joanne sits in for the first few weeks of the semester.

She stressed to me that she’s built this program over eight years, but she also knew the culture of UM Law, having gotten her J.D. there in 1984 and then having taught legal writing and other adjunct courses before she took over the Academic Achievement Program.

I have no idea what other law school academic support people would think of me, but Joanne was probably mystified as to why NSU Law hired me.

In a sense, I am, too. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I interviewed for the position last October.

On the other hand, Joanne said the field of academic support is so new that lots of directors essentially have to teach themselves how to create their own programs.

Having written all this, it seems inevitable that I’d be stressing out. But I also know me, and I wonder if I’m a good fit for this position.

A lot of academic support people burn out, Joanne said, and I don’t know if I have the work ethic to even do that – not that burning out would be a good thing.

But how much am I willing to give to this program? I don’t know. I’m still a secret outlaw.

In some ways, life would be easier if I were more like Vincent or the friends he publishes on his webzine. They’re not “good little boys” who fit into the system, so they’re free to be artists, and most of them have counterculture-type jobs.

The two sides of me – the outlaw/rebel/outsider on the one hand, and the respectable A-student/conventionally successful guy on the other – have always been at war.

In one sense, if I’d been less successful as a law student, staff attorney and college professor, my choices would be easier – though of course more limited. At 50, I’m still struggling to reconcile these halves.

Last night I fell asleep before 8:30 PM, I’m embarrassed to say – and I slept soundly till 4 AM, so I got enough sleep.

Just before I woke up, I had a dream about being in Eureka Springs and driving over the border to Missouri, something I wanted to do last summer.

It was pleasant, but then some job stuff came into the dream, like how I needed to do something for the Missouri students as well as for those who lived in Arkansas.

I was so stressed this morning I again took 0.125 mg. of Klonopin and a Triavil again. I think I may have to go back on Klonopin because I don’t want to have anxiety symptoms that interfere with my job and my life.

I didn’t read much of the New York Times today, and I think I’ll just throw the rest of the paper away.

It was stressful to go to Coral Gables. After all these years, I’d forgotten where the University of Miami was and went totally too far south on Ponce de Leon Boulevard at first, up past the Miracle Mile.

Luckily, I finally found my way back and had $4 in quarters to put in the parking meter that was about half a mile from the law school.

I didn’t eat normally today, so I’m feeling weird. I have so much on my mind that I’m obsessing, and that’s scary.

I’m not obsessing about my feelings but about my job and all the stuff I need to do and the directions I could take. I’ve also got the pressures of starting new groups as well as taking the bar exam.

It never occurred to me not to accept this job if I were offered it. But it’s especially hard because I’ve essentially gone from just getting over my nervous breakdown straight into a totally new, unfamiliar and very visible job.

If I had been teaching now, things would have been easier. Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad I’m in Florida and not in Arizona. If I were at my parents’ house and adjuncting, I might be feeling stressed because of a lack of power and money and a place of my own.

I’ve got to be patient with myself. Nobody at the law school is more impatient with me than I am. For now, says my chatterbox.

What’s the worst that can happen? Losing my job wouldn’t be that terrible; much worse would be letting my job give me another breakdown. And letting is the keyword there.

I don’t expect to have another good night’s sleep like last night. But enough worrying.

---

Tuesday, February 5, 2002

7 PM. Last evening I watched Boston Public and then tried to go to sleep, but it took a while. When I woke up at 2 AM and couldn’t relax, I took half an Ambien.

The next thing I knew, it was 4 AM, and I don’t know if I’d been awake all that time. In any case, I didn’t go back to sleep.

Despite that, I didn’t feel impaired today, though I made sure I had more caffeine than usual this morning. Although I skipped Klonopin before going to work, my anxiety level dropped as the day wore on.

I saw a couple of students today and had a productive conversation with Angela Gilmore about ARP.

Earlier, I had written out a memo (to myself, basically) about the selection of teaching assistants, stressing the current ad hoc process, its drawbacks and its positive side, and I sketched out a proposal based on the selection of Dean’s Fellows at the University of Miami.

However, after talking to Angela, I don’t think the culture at NSU would go for mandatory ARP sessions for all professors’ sections. At UM, Joanne said, professors know they’ll have to work with Dean’s Fellows.

But as a former faculty member, I know I wouldn’t want an administrator to encroach upon the courses I was teaching.

I spoke with my predecessor, Judge Jane Fishman, whom I’ll be meeting around 5 PM on Thursday before the 6 PM class she teaches. She seemed very nice and said she has more ARP materials in her garage.

Like everyone else, including her friend Joanne Koren, Jane said that everyone in the academic support field seems to have defined her own way.

Apparently the email from the Dean to students on academic probation is going out today, and the same goes for his letter to those with GPAs under 2.2 but over the 2.0 cutoff.

I got a list of the first-year students in that category from Thelma, and Pat said that she and Joe added to my initial draft of the letter.

Soon I should start getting more calls and emails from students, so I’ll need to reserve a lot of time for appointments with them.

I noticed Craig Rappaport’s name on the 2.0-2.2 list, but when I spoke to Craig, he said it was a mistake, as his grades are being changed. I don’t know what to think about that.

Otherwise, I didn’t see any of my former undergrad students on the list, though of course I did notice several – if not most – of the students who’ve already been sent to me by Michael Richmond or other professors.

Manny, the 1L evening student SBA representative, came in and begged me to make one last try to find an ARP teaching assistant for Blackwelder’s Property class. He said that Blackwelder seemed very unsure of himself, and the class is floundering and scared.

I’ve heard various reports from both faculty and administrators that this year’s evening section is especially weak.

I made one appointment with an evening student, a Brazilian who works in Boca Raton and lives in Coral Gables, for next Monday at 8 PM.

If I’m going to keep late hours, obviously I’ll need to compensate by coming in later during the day.

I did manage to find time to email Ronna, Tom and Sat Darshan, who told me that she can’t believe she has a 22-year-old daughter and then said, “No, what I can’t believe is that at my age, I have a three-year-old daughter.”

Sat Darshan finds work stressful because their department is short two people, and I can see she’s becoming somewhat disenchanted with Hospice of the Valley. She told me that she’d like to find a way to get her master’s in education at the University of Phoenix so she could teach.

I’ve gotten some replies in response to my PlanetOut profile’s request to meet friends, but who knows if anyone will call?

I did get a nice email from this 45-year-old paralegal, Wil, who lives in Davie and works in Sunrise. He sounded sane, so we exchanged phone numbers, though who knows if we’ll click as friends?

Pete Cherches just phoned me from his parents’ house in Tamarac. He put his mother on to give me directions on how to find their condo in Kings Point tomorrow night.

Amazon.com Advantage ordered five copies of Narcissism and Me, which is all I’ve got; I mailed them off before work this morning.

---

Wednesday, February 6, 2002

5 PM. I’m leaving in a little while to go to Tamarac to see Pete at his parents’ condo in Kings Point.

I’ve been up since 4:30 AM, so it’s been a long day. I’m tired and not feeling all that well, but it’s been years since I’ve seen Pete, and he’s a rare connection with my old life as a writer in New York.

Last night both Mom and Aunt Sydelle phoned. Wil didn’t call then, but I spoke to him today, and we’ll talk again tomorrow night.

Having seen Wil’s photo, I’m not attracted to him, but for now I’m really just looking for someone to relate to. I can already tell that he’s probably too formal and conservative for me.

Born on Chicago’s South Side, he probably has that up-from-the-ghetto work ethic (am I being racist in stereotyping him?) and desire to conform to middle-class life.

Wil told me he actually enjoys getting dressed up in a suit and tie. And he’s into all these sports and working out in a gym three nights a week.

Anyway, it seemed like I goofed off a lot at work today, but I did get stuff done.

As I wrote Sat Darshan yesterday, when I am working – discussing my teaching assistants’ ARP sessions with them or counseling a student on academic probation (for instance, a young mother who’s got a 1.2 GPA, a three-year-old with 104° fever from a strep throat, and several dying relatives) – it doesn’t really feel like work.

Certainly, hanging out at Billie Jo’s 10 AM schmooze session doesn’t really feel like working even though it does give me more of an idea of what’s going on with the faculty.

This morning Mike Richmond was furious because during a layover at Atlanta Hartsfield yesterday, he was paged, and when he called the school, he was told to come home rather than go on a connecting flight to a moot court competition in New Orleans.

A final grade had come in for a member of the moot court team, and the student had been expelled for poor grades. Michael didn’t say, but I assumed it was Gail who he said was yelling at him over the phone.

When I mentioned this to Pat at lunch, she was concerned that others at Billie Jo’s session might have thought that she, Pat, was the one doing the yelling. Pat said that Michael and Gail used to scream at each other all the time when they were married.

Pat also told me that if I don’t mind being the token male, I’ve been invited to join the book group that she, Jane Fishman, Kathy, Debra and others have established. They were meeting tonight, but of course I had a prior commitment to Pete.

Still, I know I need to get more involved with the people at the law school. I’m pretty good at schmoozing – hey, there’s something I’m good at – and I do want to be a part of this community.

But it feels hard to break in, especially when I’m neither fish nor fowl. I’m not faculty and not an hourly worker, but I’m not really like the administrators in Career Development or Student Services – who are all women, for one thing.

I need to gain the confidence of everyone before I can really do things with my program.

After I told her about UM, Pat said we should talk to Joe about making ARP sections mandatory for all first-year courses.

But I don’t want faculty to think I’m trying to grab power; as Pat said, faculty governance is a key value at NSU Law and something she struggles with all the time.

There’s no sense in my recounting all the things I did today, but I did reserve a room for an exam-writing workshop at 3 PM on Friday, March 29.

I’ll probably get a small crowd since everyone will be wanting to leave after their last class, LSV, and start their weekend, but I had trouble getting a room at other times.

Actually, for my maiden effort at doing a workshop, a small crowd doesn’t seem like a bad thing.

This morning I didn’t take a Triavil, which I guess meant that I didn’t have terrible anxiety. I’ll take one now, though.

*

10 PM. I think the Ambien I took is taking effect. I feel good now after getting off the phone with one of my favorite people, Libby.

She was getting Lindsay off to diving practice in Thousand Oaks. Wyatt has gone from soccer to basketball and wants to try acting in a school play.

It felt good to talk to Libby about my job and the weather and life, just as it was wonderful to see Pete this evening.

Perhaps taking a page from Gail and Phyllis, I wore the spiffy new sweatshirt I bought.

I had no trouble finding Kings Point at Tamarac. Pete looks well, and I waved to his mother, who was on the balcony.

She had a localized cancer in her lung, but Pete said the doctors got it all. Sy, Pete’s stepfather, is 86 and basically doing okay.

I drove to Mambo Jambo, a nice Latin American restaurant that I found on University Drive in Coral Springs, which I knew had a menu that would please even a hard-core New York foodie like Pete.

I told him about my breakdown in Arizona, but he too started having early awakenings and was given Ambien and Klonopin (one puts him to sleep and the other is to stop early awakenings). He was also prescribed amitriptyline (which is in Triavil), but it did not work for him.

We talked about my job and artists’ colonies and discussed all sorts of writers he knows – from Lynne Tillman, Michael Kasper and Marvin Cohen (a schnorrer when it comes to free food, according to Pete) to Richard Kostelanetz, Paul Fericano, Don Skiles and Ron Sukenick (who’s quite ill, Pete said).

I mentioned Vincent, which led me to talk about Dennis Cooper, and that got Pete to tell me all about the agent and editor Ira Silverberg.

Pete says he’s not really of that world anymore, and neither am I, but it’s all fluid. At one point, he said, “Even Mark Leyner may end up as unsuccessful as you or I.”

Pete seems a little bitter – but in a very sane way –  about not being able to get an academic job with his Ph.D. in American studies from NYU.

Maybe jobs at English departments like Harold Bakst’s at Minneapolis Community College are the good ones these days.

I do know that Pete enjoyed his Latin American entree at the restaurant, and my enchilada was excellent.

Although I guess some people would think two single middle-aged Jewish New York male writers out to dinner in South Florida as pathetic, I think  we were probably the coolest people at Mambo Jambo.

It’s a beautiful South Florida winter night. It may only be the Ambien taking effect, but right now I feel good.

As we parted, Pete said, “I’m glad you have a modicum of stability in your life,” and his words seemed true.

I need stability for a while, and I need to stop fighting it. I do my best when I feel stable.