Moving Out of My Grad School Office & My Academic Home

In case you’ve ignored everything we’ve written so far, I quit grad school this semester. I mean, last semester. Because the semester is over, which means… yeah. I’m done with the whole thing.

Scheduling a somewhat spontaneous, short notice road trip during the final week of the semester meant that I didn’t have a lot of time for sentimentalism while wrapping up courses, packing up my office, and turning in my key. Nevertheless, I had a bit of a lump in my throat as I hauled out boxes of books, knowing that this was likely the last time I’d walk through these hallways.

EPB houses English, Rhetoric, Philosophy, and a couple other little CLAS departments. I moved into the EPB shortly after we moved to Iowa to start grad school. EPB stands for “English Philosophy Building,” but we more lovingly refer to it as the EXTREME PARTY BUILDING!!!!

EPB is rumored to have been designed to be riot proof[Isn’t that a campus legend at your school? I remember rumors about another riot-proof building at the University of Oklahoma (where I did undergrad), but they are nothing alike.] It has terrible air quality, terrible lighting. It’s industrial and cold. But, it’s right by the river, a quick jog to the library, and has it’s own parking lot.

Corridor of offices in the EPB basement.

Mystery button in the hallway. I wonder if anyone has had the guts to push it. It’s like that scene in Joe vs the Volcano when he finally cranks that wheel that says DO NOT TOUCH after waiting for YEARS. (I did not actually push the button.)

I remember picking up my key as soon as I possibly could, thrilled to find a mailbox with my name on it. I painted my first office a robin’s egg blue and brought in rugs, lamps, and candles to warm up the room. Because I’ve taught in the Rhetoric department for my entire tenure in graduate school, the EPB has always been my academic home, no matter what program I was enrolled in or crazy academic rabbit hole I happened to falling through at the moment. I taught my first class on the first day of my first semester in grad school in the EPB, and my last class on my last day of grad school was there, too. My best work as a grad student has been as a teacher and leader in Rhetoric in the EPB, and I have tremendous affection for this ugly mutt of a building, and the wonderful people inside.

My office has moved several times over the years, but since I’ve always been in the basement, and all basement offices are identical, I can picture an office amalgam and it pulls together eight years of teaching memories.

Packing up my office. You can’t see the taped up newspaper clippings about my students, art from my kids, or the stacks and stacks of books I already removed. And yes, that’s a diaper box I used to store old student portfolios.

I’ve also always taught in the basement, in a series of identical classrooms.

It’s boring, but it’s home! Plus, whiteboards! Plus, good tech!

As I was moving out, I ran into an old colleague friend and we had a long chat about how tough school is. He said I had guts for leaving and spoke of his own stall out in year 8 or 9. As we talked, I felt glad to be on this side of the decision. I will miss teaching and Rhetoric, but I don’t miss grad school.

But, the best part of EPB life has to be the graffiti in the first floor women’s restroom. Sex, drugs, Jesus, Dr. Who, Harry Potter, Sherlock… you name it, it’s there.

This is just one of many stalls covered in graffiti. The bathroom was deserted when I took these, by the way.

“No one hits the bullseye with the first arrow”
–> Unless you’re Legolas.
Or Katniss! (I added that part!)

“I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES.”
“Moriarty is real.”

“Lovers of English, understand.
There is a great difference between “God” and “A God.” The latter is too specitif
to allow the meaning of the word.
The first, encompasses the posibility (sic)
of ALL + Everything.”
–> and every religion and way of life
LEARN
TO
THINK!
Can’t, too busy smoking weed!

Someone who loves me went to
Raxicoriphalipatorious (sic) and all
they got me was this lame
egg thing.
Bowties are cool.
#SEXY

“THERE IS NO
GREATER JOY
THAN BEING COMPLETELY
HAPPY ALONE.”
–> Impossible sex=happy
–> Masturbation: best of both words!

DON’T HAVE SEX! UNTIL YOU’RE MARRIED!
Don’t have good sex until you’re divorced.

Bye, EPB. I will definitely miss you.

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4 responses to “Moving Out of My Grad School Office & My Academic Home

  1. oh! Stinky, dirty, wonderful, slept on a nasty couch in the breakroom when pregnant, can’t breathe when I am there but would rather teach there than any other spot on campus EPB. xoxo

    • I know — how many times did I breastfeed in the office or pump there? Lots of memories tied up with small babies. I remember MEETING YOU for the first time in the break room in the EPB! Bella was teeny weeny.

  2. I just cleaned out my office too. That, and leaving the rooms where I’ve taught for so many years, was bittersweet. I am anxious to see what comes next! I look forward to reading more about your decision to leave academe, since we seem to be in a similar point in our career transitions.

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