Back up a year and change: the English department has three distinct divisions: MA, MFA, and TESL. I am an MFA, a writer, a creative type prone to moodiness, brooding, excess and privation, and I resent the Mas, the academics enroute to further academics who analyze my work and tell me what I'm saying. And TESL people are in a different world entirely—they study linguistics, phonics, and use alternative languages even when speaking English.
As a lifelong academic, I respect the Mas for their literary endeavors, but I am perfectly content allowing the TESL folks to remain in a different world, which has about as much appeal for me as a textile factory: sure, it'd be interesting to see to satisfy the curiosity of how it's done, but even if it threw its full weight into desire, I probably wouldn't be motivated beyond buying a book that would sit on a shelf.
Heh.
And now I've crash landed in a place without libraries or bookstores, half a planet away from the bars and cafes where the best ideas and exchanges took place, smack dab in the armpit of TEFL land. Love how that works.
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