Life, the Universe, and Everything: Part 1

I cannot believe there’s only one more week left in September. I have not posted for ages, although I have thought about it many times. Where have I been? Bidding a fond farewell to dear departing summer. Adjusting to the madness that autumn brings. Questing after a balance of work and life. Trying to figure out some semblance of routine and failing miserably. I keep hoping that somehow—by osmosis, I suppose (since something in the very core of me rejects the notion of reading The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People and other books of that ilk that strike me as well-intentioned, perhaps, but a little too naïve in their assumptions that all can be solved by a formulaic approach)—I will acquire the secrets of time management. Since that hasn’t happened yet, let me catch you up on what has been goin’ down in centre-town.

I’ve applied to various postings over the summer, and since nothing had come of them (despite my follow-up efforts) by mid-August, I started as a contractor with the University of Ottawa’s Access Service at the beginning of term. U of O calls me a “written interpreter,” although in Winnipeg I learned to think of myself in this capacity as a “computerized notetaker.” Essentially, I capture lectures and any questions and answers on a laptop for hard of hearing students. This availability of this kind of work can vary greatly from year to year, and even from term to term. Not only does it depend upon how many students have requested the service, but also the first two weeks of any term can be chaotic: students might add or drop classes up until a pre-determined date that’s usually fixed somewhere in the third week of classes. During that time, the administrative powers that be usually reschedule the location of a few classes. To give them the benefit of the doubt, it must come to their attention that Professor X’s Physics class of 150 students cannot possibly be crammed into Room 012 of Building A, which holds only 60, and must subsequently be switched with Professor Y’s Macroeconomics class of 50 students in Room 345 of Building Z, which seats 150. To be fair, I believe students are warned that administration reserves the right to change classrooms, and that they (students) are responsible for confirming the location of their classes. Yet these changes tend to cause moments of anxiety and upheaval—not for the student alone, but also for me, the interpreter, who must then try to keep up to the student charging all the way across campus, my laptop bag bumping against my thigh, my sandals slapping the pavement as I make an effort to run, but end up in more of a lop-sided lurch. There's nothing like entering a classroom dishevelled and breathing heavily.

While the job itself is the same in Ottawa as in Winnipeg, that is, keyboarding/typing verbal utterances, there are quite a few differences in terms of staffing, equipment, and financial remuneration. For example, in Winnipeg, the post-secondary institutions supply the laptops; here, the notetaker or student supplies one. Whether these differences are due to policies and procedures at the institutional or provincial level, I haven’t yet deduced.

Up until this term, I’ve managed to avoid notetaking for any Math or Science classes. It’s a much greater challenge to accurately capture the key concepts of a subject about which I know practically nothing. Even reviewing the professors’ online notes does little to prepare me other than providing me with vocabulary, which I can then enter as autocorrect shortcuts. But I’m very happy to have this work, and I’m getting a bit of transcription work here and there, too. It’s all about building a (satisfied) clientele base and extending outward from there!