“I’m Empty Inside,” and Other Graduate Teaching Assistant Observations
Alyssa Radke & Rachell Hayes
Keywords: disability, mental illness, pain
Categories: Sick/Disabled Bodyminds during Sick/Disabling Times; (De)Constructing Writing; Building Community in Isolating Times
Content warning: pain
How Alyssa’s Coping
My keyboard is covered in my own hair; turns out, isolation (particularly the not being seen part) is not great for my compulsive “coping” habits. I started therapy, then had a week of student conferences, then I had to go out of state to see my grandpa—finally, finally the nursing home is easing up and letting two people in once a week—so even though it’s an insurance discounted telahealth portal, finding time and privacy to be (therapeutically) told my disability anxiety is “too complicated” is difficult.
Most of the writing I’ve been doing is self-mockery: I have a reminder on my to-do list to make automated posting reminders for the classes I’m taking from the start of semester, and those classes are wrapping up; I have a note to grade the first week of classwork from the classes I’m teaching (and most of those subsequent weeks, too). There’s several papers waiting, too. I just sent my students my personal “pep talk” playlist of YouTube music over email. Listen to Eleshia Eagle’s “The Quittin’ Kind;” when you can’t make your own positive self-talk, pre-recorded jazz-pop is a fine substitution.
They are the first classes I’ve taught that didn’t know by wheelchair-sighting I was disabled, that often unacknowledged, ever-present thing. I bring it up when relevant, still. But they keep their cameras off most days, so we are all withholding a bit more than usual. I feel like I just write emails and chat answers. How can I help? I’m motivation-free, too. Teachers have to act so normal and TAs have to produce; it’s awful that on my “grading day,” I just watch YouTube and work up the wherewithal to type just as my parents plate dinner (my students need essay feedback, but 8 haven’t even turned the assignment in yet). I’m grateful, resentful, and dependent—all at once. Top that with the frustrations of parsing something like plagiarism, and I’m very poor company. Snappy and overwhelmed at all times; at least when I’m on campus, my parents don’t get the rage blast of disappointed anger that is my school default, but my office mates do instead. My room is covered in seltzer cans I haven’t thrown out in a mix of laziness and invocation of the pathetic fallacy.
I have a pile of PDFs downloaded every week that tell me either about some mystical hinterland of writing theory or how I am failing to give timely feedback online; even if I run everything I have to read through a text-to-speech reader on double speed, it still takes hours. . . at least I can overwrite on the discussion boards. Is that another compulsion, or just grad school? What’s the difference?
My childfree life hasn’t gotten harder, technically: I have good Internet and am used to drinking while sitting, so I can bend my legs later (but I still forget and have to deal with pain so bad I put the palsy in cerebral palsy). I have used the online platform to tutor clients for the first time; I used to avoid it because I typed slowly. Turns out, it’s fine, and I don’t seem disabled with voice chat enabled. They can’t see I’m barefoot and spastically kicking my desk. But everything that used to get me dressed and sunshined is now on the computer, as is the Gin Rummy game I love. Damn, grading’s computerized, too.
Time feels both hyper-fast (Crap. I had another week. I have to make that peer review sheet yesterday.) and syrup-slow (Ow. This transcription is so, so hard. . . 50 more lines.) Somehow, the silence of “no-one-has-read” is amplified in lag. Why is Teams muting chat? Is it a lack of participation, disrespect, or technical difficulty on their end?
It all looks the same on mine.
How Rachell’s Coping
I’m still recovering from the three months I was without my medication. I have to buy it from Canada, because my insurance doesn’t cover it here in the States. They ship from Australia, and COVID slowed down shipments into the U.S. in March 2020. My family became so desperate for medication that I paid the $99 per individual pill to cut it into quarters and make it stretch.
My therapist’s office encouraged me not to pay my co-pay at the time of the visit. “Most insurances are waiving mental health co-pays until the end of the year.” By the time I received the bill, I was four appointments behind. My insurance was the only one that didn’t cover mental health visits 100% during COVID in the state of Arkansas. It’s the State of Arkansas employee insurance.
It’s been a journey. My mental health suffers greatly without routine. Over the course of 2020, I built a routine of daily walks, workouts, and writing. I lost so much weight because of the extra time to focus on my fitness. COVID allowed for that extra time. Until Daylight Savings Time hit. I usually compensate for the shorter days by visiting the gym. I’ve been paying $55/mo for a gym membership that I won’t use. They don’t enforce masks inside, and I’ve seen plenty of people walk inside without one.
Not touching that.
But the writing. Wow. I’ve written six novels since November of 2019. I worked a technical writing contract for the first quarter of 2020, where I wrote roadmaps and procedure documents. I even started my PhD program at the University of Memphis in 2020. COVID taught me to make it work, to take advantage of the extra time. Not to mention that COVID-relief mortgage forbearance freed up some major financial wiggle room.
I started write-ins with my best friend, who moved to North Carolina in 2019. We hold each accountable to our passion projects over Zoom. It’s a great way to write collaboratively by exchanging feedback and brainstorming together. While we work on interview questions for her podcast, I consider making my own in light of the opportunity COVID’s given me. The support is there, but I must be careful with my mental health and taking on another task.
Daily routine includes homework or teaching work. Every week, I’m faced with a stack of PDFs I’ve printed to read. It’s hard on my eyes to read on the screen, and so many of them are formatted so badly my Kindle won’t display them legibly. It’s daunting to sit down and see that. A mentor told me the over-assignment of reading was intentional. I found that disappointing. I can’t skim like I did in my Masters program. Especially if it’s interesting. I want to read the entire thing! If I do, I won’t have time to read all of them. So. . . I don’t read any of them. My mental illness demands one extreme or the other. The pills only help so much. Overwhelmed? Apathetic? I grade papers instead.
Balance. That’s the trick to COVID. Or existing, in general. I seek stability, but without support from healthcare and state regulations, I don’t see that happening in 2021.
Writerly Life During COVID
We met in a Tuesday night class we both hated in the Fall semester of 2020. Over Zoom. We’ve never met in person. We continue to take classes together, synchronously or asynchronously while meeting for our collaborative efforts on Zoom or Discord. So far, it’s resulted in two fun papers and a lot of off-topic laughs. But, we both admit, we’d rather meet in the same room and share in department activities together in person. Maybe after everyone vaccinates. Maybe if the vaccines ever get organized and disseminated on a proper scale. However, with our shared experience in American healthcare, neither of us are that optimistic.
We strove, not for excellence in our writing and writing instruction during 2020 and the COVID pandemic, but for “making it.” The favorite response to many How are you?s and How’s it going?s of anyone surviving through this bizarre time. With all our personal, academic, and professional concerns, we still managed to grade our students’ papers and turn in our work. Maybe neither on time. But it’s enough that we’re doing it. It’s enough that we tried. We are still trying to actually believe that. At least with each other, we can be honest about how hard keeping that (or coping thanks to) belief is.
Bio
Rachell Hayes of Little Rock, Arkansas is a PhD student at the University of Memphis pursuing a degree in Writing, Rhetoric, and Technical Communication. She teaches as a remote adjunct at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. Everyday she pursues carework while prepping for exams, still COVID-free and looking forward to a lumbar puncture tomorrow.
Alyssa Radtke is a PhD student in Writing, Rhetoric, and Technical Communication at the University of Memphis. She has left the classroom (for now) for writing consultation and academic skills coaching for the University. She is still behind on exam preparation, but is getting there slowly.