Tag Archives: cabin

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work/life rhythm and the weirdness of online education

I just wrote an email to my graduate students that turned out to be more eloquent than I had originally intended, and since it deals with topics I write about frequently on this blog, I thought I’d share it here, with a few adjustments for confidentiality. As you might be able to tell, this course is at a Christian college.

Dear students, 

I normally like to make weekly videos for my [this course] students, but here we are, almost halfway into the course, and I haven’t shared one since my introductory video. I won’t be making one this week because my husband and I are on vacation at a family cabin in the woods of western Maryland. There’s no Wi-Fi here, and while my iPhone hotspot worked well enough for me to grade your Module 2 assignments this afternoon, I don’t think I’m going to try uploading a video. So you can picture me sitting at the table in our outdoor kitchen area, with my husband across the table playing a solo board game and the surrounding tall oak and locust trees sighing in the wind. I’m about to close up my laptop and spend the rest of the afternoon reading a good book.

I’m sharing this with you because I want to remind you that I’m a real person, not just a machine who grades your work, and you are too. Online education is weird because we don’t have a designated time and place in which to do it. We take it with us. Perhaps you’ve written a discussion post on your phone while you were in a waiting room. Perhaps, like me, you’ve fit in a bit of schoolwork while enjoying God’s creation in a beautiful place away from where you normally live.

Of course, this is a blessing and a curse. The other side of the coin of flexibility is the absence of any clear boundaries between our schoolwork and the rest of our lives. That’s not necessarily bad if it means that we’re learning to think biblically and intellectually about everything that crosses our paths. Our scholarly pursuits should affect our lives by shaping how we think. But our scholarly pursuits should not dominate our lives, leaving no room for family, community, or rest. So right now, as you start your graduate career, start thinking about how you will create boundaries–or rhythms, if that makes more sense to you–of work and rest, knowing that your classes constitute only one of your responsibilities and only a small part of who you are in God’s eyes.

If my iPhone hotspot holds up, I’ll pop into the discussions later this week. Thank you both for your thought-provoking responses to the prompts and for carrying on the conversation in this tiny class. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask. I am praying for you!

Sincerely,

Dr. Tess

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ode to the cabin

In the years before my dad’s parents passed away, they started RV camping on a little plot in the woods at the edge of some land in Garrett County, Maryland, that they used to farm years before and that still belonged to the family. My grandfather sold the RV after my grandmother passed away, but he wanted to keep camping on that spot, so he put up a couple of modular sheds, installed a tiny kitchen and a tinier bathroom, and created the Stockslager family cabin. Pappy kept visiting the cabin until he died in January 2018 (you can read my tribute to him here), and his gentle, goofy humor and spindly handwriting are still all over the place, in the lists of instructions he made for winterizing and taking care of the cabin, the John Deere clock he made and hand-painted with a Bible verse that somehow fits, and the old and quirky but still functional cookware and dishes that are getting a second life after years in Grandma and Pappy’s kitchen. The cabin continues to be a beloved vacation place for many members of our family. It has been expanded in recent years and now includes a bigger bathroom and a private bedroom, though some still prefer to sleep in the curtained area off the living room. It’s not palatial by any means, but it’s really just there to serve as a shelter and a base for outdoor adventures, and it serves that purpose beautifully.

Jordan and I have spent a long weekend at the cabin each of the three autumns since we’ve been married. Here are some of my favorite things about being there.

  • Walking down to the hayfield when the sun is coming up, then taking the short loop hike through the woods and watching deer burst out of their hiding places and run across the path
  • Cooking breakfast in the tiny indoor kitchen, making the whole cabin smell like bacon and coffee
  • Cooking hot dogs and s’mores over a roaring fire in the fire pit
  • Playing board games under the fairy lights at the picnic table in the covered outdoor kitchen area
  • Taking a spin around the woods and fields in the utility vehicle (a John Deere Gator, of course)
  • Hiking in the nearby New Germany State Park, as well as other trails on and off the cabin property
  • Visiting some of our favorite local businesses: High Country Creamery (where we stock up on cheese for the visit–very important), Cornucopia Cafe, and of course, Candyland at Hilltop Fruit Market

I love that I go to bed smelling like fire every night at the cabin. I love that I can get up early and get a little work done while sitting outside as I wait for Jordan to get ready for the day. I love that even though the cabin feels isolated and we sometimes hear coyotes and catch glimpses of bears, we know we’re safe because we’re surrounded by the farms and homes of people who knew and respected my grandparents and are keeping an eye on their kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. I love seeing the patchwork fields covering the hills in the distance and watching the sun slant through the trees and light up the leaves like fire. I am thankful for this beautiful place that has meant so much to my family and now means so much to Jordan and me. I can’t wait to be there again.