Notebook Summary 1

When I first began using my journal this summer, I struggled to express my thoughts in words. I turned to pictures instead, capturing emotions that were hard to articulate at the time. These images became a window back into those moments, allowing me to reconnect with feelings days or weeks later. As I transitioned into the structured environment of graduate school, I noticed that my journal started to evolve too, shifting from this visual approach to a more traditional form of writing. What surprised me was how important it became to have a safe space for writing—a place where I didn’t feel the pressure of judgment. While I had always carried a journal with me, it mostly served as a place for to-do lists or brief reflections I rarely revisited. At first, I was hesitant, even afraid, to look back at what I’d written, but over time I’ve been working to improve my relationship with writing.

I’ve started making an effort to write every other day, if not daily, and I keep my journal close by at all times, capturing incomplete ideas or circling them with different colors if they feel significant. My journal has taken on various forms as I explore new ways to process information. For example, when I read, I keep index cards nearby. I jot down any important terms or phrases—like “critical pedagogy”—to research later, and I’ve even used AI tools to create mind maps of how different authors and concepts are interconnected. As I complete readings and record my reactions, I ask AI to help me design diagrams that reflect my understanding of the material, which I keep in a sketchbook. This practice has been a fun and insightful way to map out how I learn. While this may seem obvious to my cohort, I wasn’t an education major, so building this level of self-awareness has been exciting.

Understanding how I learn has also helped me recognize how I best work. One of the key things I needed to do to understand my sense of place was to create physical space for myself. While we were advised to take the time between summer and fall semesters to prepare, I’m a process-oriented person. I need to practice something, break it apart, and improve it over time. I didn’t get my study space fully organized until last week, but once I did, it became a game-changer. I don’t have the luxury of spending hours at a library or coffee shop, like I did as an undergraduate, so creating a dedicated workspace at home has been essential. I worried at first that without a formal office or external supervision, my productivity might drop. My past experiences with self-employment weren’t great, and I found myself needing structure and accountability. However, I’ve learned that the freedom grad school provides—the ability to choose what I work on—while intimidating has also been both empowering and motivating. It’s given me a new sense of agency and helped me reclaim ownership of my life’s direction, which I didn’t fully anticipate.

Graduate school has also led me to confront bigger questions about my future. I’ve long considered starting a nonprofit, but I worry about burnout. I’ve struggled with burnout before, and with my father’s health, I can’t afford to exhaust myself. Taking care of him is already demanding, and I’m constantly aware of the toll it takes on my energy and time. But pursuing graduate school was one of the smartest decisions I’ve ever made. It has given me a new focus, something beyond caregiving, and in many ways, it’s been a lifeline during a challenging time and is probably saving my life right now. 

I didn’t have a formal philosophy of instruction when I began this program, but it’s starting to take shape. I had a sense early on that “sense of place” and “sense of self” would be central to my work. Initially, I thought these two concepts were one and the same, but I didn’t have any academic grounding to support that belief. Now, thanks to the readings and discussions in class, I feel validated in those instincts. One of the most exciting developments recently has been exploring the concept of “color perception” in my research. I’ve collected books on color for years, but I hadn’t yet dived deeply into the concept. When I encountered Gruenewald’s perceptual dimension of place, I began to see that color perception might play a key role in developing a sense of place. This realization made me feel more confident that I was on the right track, even as I continue to explore what it all means.

In class recently, in the chat there was a  conversation about creating a sense of place in digital spaces, which made me think about my hesitation to start a nonprofit. I’ve worried about not having a physical land base for the project and whether that might limit its success. But the idea of building a virtual or digital space—a place that exists without physical land—seems less daunting. This concept opens up possibilities I hadn’t considered, especially given the uncertainties I face, such as figuring out how to manage my father’s mortgage if his health takes a turn.

I met with my advisor at the beginning of September to work on my plan b project, and he encouraged me to let the readings guide the direction of my project. We planned to meet again at the end of the month, but with the adjustment to grad school and the challenges of balancing responsibilities, I didn’t make as much progress as I’d hoped. Despite that, I’m learning that the pace of graduate school is more about finding balance and less about rushing to the finish line.

In reflecting on my time in grad school, I often think back on previous roles I’ve held and how much easier they would have been if I’d had the knowledge I’m gaining now. I can’t help but feel a little frustrated that I didn’t pursue grad school sooner. Looking back, I realize how naive I was about research, thinking I could figure things out without fully understanding the regulations and frameworks involved. While I’d like to believe that those experiences made me wiser, they mostly reinforced my limitations. But in a way, recognizing those limitations has also become a form of wisdom.

As I continue this journey, I’m learning to appreciate the process of evolving—whether it’s through journaling, developing a sense of place, or balancing personal and academic responsibilities. Every day, I feel like I’m creating meaningful spaces—physical, digital, and emotional—where I can grow. These spaces, in turn, allow me to become more grounded in who I am and where I’m headed.