Any questions? Anyone?

As a graduate student in science, questioning was a key component of enculturation. In the early years when our knowledge was incomplete, questioning was a way to demonstrate not only one's motivation to learn but also one's progress in achieving mastery. Later, questioning became a way to solidify expert knowledge, to test and extend ideas, and to advance in the field as a respected peer. As a faculty member, questioning has taken on new significance. Not only is it a way for me to continually exercise and expand my understanding, but it is a way to push my students' thinking forward.

Maybe that is why, for the past two nights, I have been unable to sleep. Our first OB appointment approaching, I was paralyzed with anxiety. I was questionless. Every book, website, and mother I consulted emphasized the importance of having a thoughtful list of questions to drill the OB with. And here I was, a person who questions the world for a living, and I couldn't think of a single question to ask. I hardly believed that I know everything there is to know about pregnancy, far from it. But I couldn't help but feel like, well, women have been doing this for centuries without books or modern medicine. What could I possibly ask that would unveil some new knowledge that these women had not already uncovered?

So there I was, lying quietly yet wide awake, when my husband gently probed my quiet unrest in the dark. I asked him what we should ask of our doctor. What questions did he have? What were we missing? The urgency with which I posed those questions of him was overwhelming to me. Normally, his calmness in responding would have only fueled my anxiety. But he quietly pointed out that maybe it was too early for questions. They would come. And I realized he was right. Just like my first-year graduate student, questions may not come quickly, nor will they necessarily be the most meaningful. But eventually I would learn what questions to ask.

Our appointment went fine. When my doctor asked if I had any questions, I sighed. "No." I replied, "I know I should, but I don't have any." She simply smiled and assured me that there was nothing to know at this point that I hadn't probably already read. Despite her words of encouragement, I had to silently calm the academic inside me. I'm not questionless often -- but they will come.

Wackademia: What it is, and what it is NOT

I'm starting a new blog, partly because I wanted a more user-friendly venue. But also because I felt the increasing need to share my thoughts during a very transitional time in my life. Or maybe it's not really transitional, perhaps I am finally living my life and I am so completely astounded by the realness of it all that I need some place to dump it all. Either way, I intend to share my musings about marriage, motherhood, family, and the everyday as I wade my way through the next six (or so!) years of what I've started calling "wackademia", the crazy, challenging, rewarding, and perplexing professional path I've chosen to follow (for now).

So what to expect? Frank stories about life on the tenure-track from one of two (soon to be three) women in an all male science department. What not to expect? Ranting feminist soliloquies about the inherent cultural inequities in 'the ivory tower' or cutesy stories about being a working 'mommy'. The blogger market is already full of jaded women and self-righteous charity cases. I was once told that the only way to change a culture is to live by example. So, here I go, my opportunity to make a difference in wackademia.