OK—now let’s move on to why you should really know who she is. Because there will always be an ingénue/apparent prodigy child creating a web magazine or blog that is actually insightful and well-produced. There will always be unusually self-possessed young women who knock your socks off with their insights and their productivity communicating those insights. And, in a nutshell, that’s why you should know Tavi Gevinson and her work, the online magazine for teen girls, Rookie.Mag: She makes the simple (and beautiful in its simplicity) claim that many teen girls, across the world, have something of value to offer with their thoughts and ideas and creativity. Not that teen girls “will someday become” leaders of thought and culture, but that they are already doing this in meaningful ways.

If you spend time watching Tavi’s presence in the world of visual and print media, you will discern quickly a representative voice. Tavi may be unique in her very notable presence in a media-saturated environment, but her voice will be familiar to any parent or teacher of a teen girl. Teen girls “think messy” in a wonderfully delightful way that can both frustrate the adults around them and remind us of the joys of those years before social norms of adulthood work to squash the hell out of our tendencies toward productive rebellions, as we navigate that liminal space between childhood and “common sense” adulthood.

And it’s the “common sense” notion that made me start thinking of Tavi and Rookie in relation to Gramsci. I teach about Gramsci’s concepts of common sense, good sense, and the organic intellectual—often with a healthy heap of cynicism. But Tavi’s “good sense” in her approach to voicing the concerns and hopes of her generation has muted my cynicism (as youth often can, when we give young people the credit they deserve). So common sense a la Gramsci means, in its most base form, following the crowd; good sense means retaining from the crowd what is useful and running with that in whatever direction it might take you. This seems to me to be what Tavi does—she questions what is common, and sometimes finds it works for her and her peers, and sometimes finds that it doesn’t (see her talk on feminism and media culture with TedTalks.

Tavi also offers what I like most about Gramsci’s concept of the organic intellectual, stripping it of its elitist connotations. With RookieMag.com, she uses culture in order to dish on it—and provides permission for others to do the same. While the “permission” tag might sound like that dreaded elitism, we all know we still live in a world where teen girls are discouraged from speaking freely: their ideas must fit a certain mold, their laughter must not be too loud, and they must always be “on” in a social media environment eager to capture their every flaw and misstep. Tavi had the good sense to say “who cares?”—and suspected rightly that many other teen girls yearn to do the same.

I won’t try to say she and her work aren’t unique. (Why else would I be writing about her?). Any pre-teen who attends Fashion Week, or teen who publishes her own book, or high school junior who can show up in press coverage with the words Target, Urban Outfitters, Sassy magazine, Ira Glass, Sofia Coppola, and Jon Hamm…well, it’s gonna’ make you take note. But I think my larger point is that—as much as the mainstream press lovingly tries to describe her as “counter-cultural,” I believe that she is, rather, “pro-cultural.” She embraces the culture around her—for better or worse. A recent blurb from her in a Rookie column proclaimed: CORY AND TOPENGA ARE IN! Topanga is on Tumblr! EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING!” (If that sentence makes no sense to you, look it up—you’re out of touch.) She appeared on Jimmy Fallon’s show to demonstrate the ways in which to make a teen girl “bitch face”—a specialty of the demographic. She’ll give you her 2 cents on Angela Chase and Freaks and Geeks and Lana Del Rey.

And the best thing for me? She talks through all such items within a feminist framework. (Maybe this is the “4^th wave” we’ve been looking for?) What I love about her conceptualization of feminism is that it is so very teen infused. It refuses to abandon passion without neglecting analysis. (Think of every teen girl conversation you’ve been privy to: crazed love for fleeting things, and the ability to present the rationale for that love in a manner suitable for the Supreme Court.) It tags feminism as necessarily in flux and almost schizophrenic. And most simply, it says that the voices of the next (or rather, current) generation of women matter—whether it be a word on Boy Meets World or a word on efforts to assist with autism.

Go try out your best bitch face. Support Rookie. And for the love of god, if you have a teen girl around you somewhere, have them google Tavi and then have a conversation with them about what they read and see. And remind yourself, you feminists out there, about how feminism’s most valuable asset has always been to tell women they deserve to be heard–and to never be told what they want to speak about is “silly.”

I suspect it might be the same for all of us, as increasingly colleges—even the research 1s—are being “brought to accountability” for improving the overall student “experience” as economic forces beyond our control place pressure on every level of academia. How do we as maintain professional productivity while also committing fully to pedagogical aims (truly the latter being what drove most of us through graduate school)? I offer here a few tips, admittedly from someone at a teaching-oriented college, but one that has been emphasizing more traditional research goals as well. (I also speak as someone tenured, realizing that the pressures are significantly different pre- and post-.)

1) Find someone in your department with whom to build a trusting relationship…and be that person for someone else. Both before and after tenure, there will be times when you feel overwhelmed…Sometimes by the sheer amount of hours needed in a semester to plan classes and conference presentations and write papers and develop that book….Sometimes by the curveballs that life can throw you with health, family, and golden opportunities that you can’t pass up. You need one person you can spill your guts to, no questions asked and no judgment proffered, who can a) make you feel better and b) intercede on your behalf when necessary. I recently witnessed a stellar teacher killing herself to finish a documentary, teach a new multi-departmental class, write a report for a new administrator, and all while dealing with (no exaggeration) a brain tumor that needed to be removed. I stressed to her that one semester of a lackluster class wouldn’t kill her—but not removing a brain tumor might. Sounds logical, but you all know you’ve been paralyzed similarly (if not as extremely) by the pressures to actually teach meaningful classes, deliver professional productivity, and have a literal or symbolic “life.” Have a sounding board and a mediator—it will mean all the difference. By the same token, think of your department humanistically: be there for someone else when you are able and it will come back to you.

2) Know yourself as an academic, in the most glorious sense of this position—and then know your limits (and those of your institution). We know there are certain things we must do to achieve tenure and maintain our employment. But we often become so obsessed with this—or the next step up after—that we forget to consider our reasons for going into the field to begin with. What are your priorities in terms of your career? Are you more driven by research? More by teaching? Equally so? Do you aspire to periodic forays into administration?  Is it important to you to be connected with the local community in which you work? Figure this out—in short, figure out what makes you happy as an academic, and then foreground that in your choices. A caveat: your priorities might shift—as might those of your institution (the latter clearly more nerve-wracking). Allow this to happen; Freud be damned, we keep developing way past 4 years old. Changing with the times, your personality, your environment, and your life circumstances doesn’t make you fickle—it is what makes you better at what you do. Students know if you don’t care; your family and friends know if you don’t care…in the end, you need to know what matters at any given moment and choose your activities accordingly.

3) Lay claim to your rights and needs as a human being…but realize you’re not an island. This is admittedly easier after tenure, but see #1! There are only so many hours in a day. Your health matters, your relationships matter. And no matter what your priorities (see #2), your happiness as a scholar matters as well. We sacrifice a lot to go into academia—better pay elsewhere, deferment of other activities, buying a house instead of a student loan :D…And most of us do this with noble intentions. Take pride in this—and remind others to respect your choices. And quite frankly, minimize your exposure to those who don’t respect your choices. This means at times saying “no”—to the committee invitation, to the request to serve administratively, to the pleas to review a book or article, to the student demands for a new class…You get the drift. A second caveat, however: Your choices impact others—your colleagues, your students, your family. Take heed of the fact that you are in academia—in other words, you work in conjunction with a complex of people who are human beings trying to do the best they can. Respect them—but make sure they respect you, no mater where you are on that ladder.

So, much is vague here, yes? How do I survive wanting to teach—loving to teach—but also yenning for time to research and write (and yes, even administrate)? I don’t have all the answers yet…but what lets me breathe is accepting that not having all the answers and making the occasional mistake is ok. This fall I’ll figure out what to embrace letting go of; I may sleep a little less, but in the end I’ll also sleep better knowing that I’m not trying to do it all.

But (yes—you knew that was coming)…there is simply too much reality TV to keep up with as a TV scholar; and there are too many relevant reality series I should be watching as a scholar that I simply cannot bring myself to view for more than 5 minutes at a time. And that is why Joel McHale of The Soup and Chelsea Handler of Chelsea Lately (both on E!) are saving my life every week.

Both series, for the uninitiated, spend time on their comedy shows recapping and discussing developments in reality series (and the lives of their stars); I can tune in nightly to Chelsea and weekly to Joel and discover what happened that regular viewers such as my students might be gabbing about—and I can see the key moments in brief, less excruciating time frames. After studying how each show presents its take on the genre, from The Soup and Chelsea Lately we can glean what some of the main appealing elements of this genre are for many viewers.

The “Showgirls” factor

Much as with the celebrated film Show Girls, a lot of reality TV is unintentionally funny, and the comic framings of both shows aim to make you laugh at even the most serious moments. It’s a cathartic, desperate humor at work: I want to weep when I see a 2 year old from Toddlers and Tiaras literally fall off a stage because she’s so exhausted after a pageant, but it feels better to see this and hear Joel say “Her prize was a carton of menthol cigarettes and a jug of moonshine.” I want to mail copies of The Feminine Mystique to the producers who green-lit Bridalplasty, but I can breathe a little easier when I hear Chelsea tell me that “the show’s alternate title is ‘Exploiting Desperate Women with Extremely Low Self-Esteem’” or see The Soup do a send-up called Idol Plasty (noting that it’s brought to viewers “by FOX—and E!—cause that’s kind of their thing.”)

The Inbred factor

Both series also glory in the fact that many reality shows tap into inbreeding—both metaphorically and generically. The worst moments (e.g., aforementioned toddler or the Civil War re-enactor from Milwaukee on Idol) point the finger of blame at the stars of the genre—and in fact have no problem lumping the “regular folk” in with the “celebrities” so that Kim Kardashian is painted with the same brush as a pageant mom. Our hosts posit these stars as the worst examples of our culture and society (Chelsea noted that Jersey Shore heading to Italy next season means we can “mark [Italy] off as another country that will now hate us forever”). This is what happens when stupid people get a chance to be on TV, right? I realize this is not at all fair, but I also believe many of us watch these shows to feel better about ourselves (we’re much classier and more well-bred than these folks!), and both series aid and abet us in this rationalization. Both series also blur their takes on the genre with their takes on other elements of our entertainment culture, skewering the coverage of the riots in Egypt (it might shut down Angelina Jolie’s filming of Cleopatra!), Brooke’s wedding on One Tree Hill, the website for cheaters AshleyMadison.com, and all our reality faves in one fell swoop. We might like to think “other” TV is more refined, but there’s bad to be found everywhere.

“The Host Who Watches It All for You” factor

By reducing reality TV series to brief clips and comments, McHale and Handler and their teams announce what many of us know: a lot of reality TV is merely a hodgepodge of shocking, over-the-top moments—whether it’s the bachelor choosing no one to marry or the World War II vet demonstrating that his “memento” bazooka flame thrower still works. Not unlike certain scripted procedurals that shall remain unnamed, we can do many other things while watching a reality series, using them as a way to escape a tiring day at work, at school, or with the kids.

So long live reality TV—the good and the bad of it! It gives these two comics great fodder for their shows, which in turn means I don’t have to actually watch much. And if in the end I can do a superiority dance for a few deluded minutes, I’m all for it.

Conundrum #1) Do I have to watch every new show at least once? I used to try to do this, but the task is now overwhelming given the growing presence of new series on cable (and this year the return of NBC’s last hour). And you know, it’s just exhausting even thinking about yet another CSI and Law & Order—I don’t really think of them as “new shows” in the same way that I do, say, Lone Star (there’s my plug—saw the pilot and really liked it.) But as someone who focuses on trends and strategies in programming, I feel compelled to watch it all. “I owe it to my students,” I explain to my husband. If that doesn’t work, I argue to him: “We might miss a fantastic series and then we’ll have to buy online or wait for DVD.” And thus…

Conundrum #2) Technology is both a curse and a blessing, damn it! iTunes and my DVR make me feel guilty if I try to dodge anything new that looks horrible or likely to be cancelled. It was a lot easier when I simply couldn’t watch everything because of shows being scheduled against each other. I simply prioritized as follows:  preference to returning favorites, new shows that look promising, new shows that seem relevant to my work. Now I have fewer excuses—except for when technology fails me, setting me off on a frenzied rant my husband is well used to. Why does my DVR hold so few hours of TV? Should I really have to pay extra to get more hours, or stay up all night to dub things? Why doesn’t my Comcast box allow me to DVR more than 2 shows? (This is the only reason I still have a VCR, after all.) Why do the networks insist on loading up certain nights (this year for me, it’s Mondays and Thursdays) and then having other evenings read like a wasteland? Is it ethical to remove my 2 year old’s Blues Clues and Caillous so I can load up on The Event and watch in batches? (witness husband and 2 year old leave the room and head to the park).

In the end, the stress is worth it. There is always some new gem of a show (or at least a really fabulous pilot), and even the horrific newbies are at least enjoyable to make fun of (did I say Outlaw? Sorry about that.) Most importantly, every fall reminds me of why I love what I do. There is truly nothing more remarkable than finding fresh well-developed characters, new ways of storytelling, and innovative themes and then being able to discuss this and write about it on a daily basis. My family and sanity will remain intact, and by January the highlighted flow chart by my TV and computer will be less visually assaulting for at least nine more months. (Note: author will be unavailable for social calls until January.)

Figures I would end up with the one that “packed it all in” (damn you, Mary Beltran!)… Just when Glee makes you think you’re indulging yourself as a viewer lost in the joys of song and dance, it taps into a range of emotions and provokes thought—so a disclaimer that there’s no way I can cover it all in this column.  (Have at in the comments!)

There are 4 key themes that struck me the most in this episode. The first is how “Bad Reputation” offered up an insightful commentary on current YouTube culture (and also the show’s YouTube/iTunes culture). The “Glist” that propelled the narrative asked to think what it means to live in a world in which being ranked and literally counted is what matters most, regardless of the “content” of what/who is being viewed. This appears to be somewhat generational at first, as Sue is pained when her singing and dancing is made public…But the episode quickly turns something culturally and historically specific into a series of universals.

Thus theme 2: the universal pains of invisibility—including a lack of voice and being desexualized/oversexualized. The foiled attempts of the “off-Glisters” (Arty, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, and somehow, in a screamingly funny way, Brittany) to become visible to the point of being willing to be expelled meshed beautifully with Emma’s public flogging of Will as a slut and Rachel taking advantage of “her boys” to soothe her own ego (and what a charming gender role reversal that was!). Even Sue showed vulnerability as she struggled with slow-motion laughter and how to deal with her wave of conflicting emotions.

Thus theme 3: Here we saw some genuine character development, really reminding me of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and its gentle, incremental character growth. Emma’s final speech to Will about needing to come to know each other as they truly are was a much more real step than the claiming of her sexuality that occurred in the Madonna episode, as was Rachel’s “too late” awareness of her self-centeredness as being rooted in an insecurity that ultimately hurts others as well as herself. And who would’ve thought the line “You’re a really great teacher, even if everyone is saying you’re a man whore” (from Quinn to Will) could carry such weight in representing the severe pain of Quinn’s situation as a pregnant teen?  But of course, the moment I cried (oh, yes, I cried) involved Sue’s heartfelt moment with her sister Jean—the only content character in the episode, who is perhaps the most invisible in terms of societal knowledge. A simple story about two bears leading to a simple yet tremendously powerful declaration and promise of eternal sisterly love. It was, quite frankly, the kind of moment I live for on TV.

And thus theme 4. Here was the episode that dared to challenge the central appeal of the series: that there is pure pleasure to be had in the joys of music and dance. The idea of context and intention mattering ran strong through the show’s musical numbers; performers don’t always send the message they desire and audience members should from time to time think through why they love and hate what music (and TV) they do. I found Rachel’s story goal of “musical promiscuity” to be the most telling in the end. There is a “dark side,” if you will, to the arts of song and dance and TV…a tendency towards exhibitionism and aggrandizement (that even Olivia Newton John noted in regards to her “Let’s Get Physical” video). Just because something/someone is popular and fun doesn’t mean it/they are important or unproblematic. And, just because something/someone is popular and fun doesn’t mean it/they are not important or valuable. I think this is the essence of Glee’s appeal: It “mashes” together the old and the new, the shallow and the deep, and in the end asks us to appreciate that our lives are much like popular culture—sometimes bad, sometimes silly, sometimes painful, and sometimes a little ridiculousness that can lead us to something sublime.

What works best and what shows the most potential in this series is the simple central question of how we define family in this country. This question has been the through-line so far in the first three episodes, exploring in particular the system of foster care in the United States–a system few people truly understand unless they have somehow been involved with it. Other potentially rich areas of exploration include the idea of friends as family (e.g., Lux’s foster care cohorts, Baze’s bar buddies/co-workers) and the idea of linked families–that is, multiple sets of parents and siblings via divorce and remarriage, etc.  The pilot highlighted these notions of family, and won me over with its unflinching peek into foster care and a talented cast that allowed me to buy into the messy relationships laid out in spite of some unrealistic conveniences.  There were indeed remnants of Everwood and Gilmore Girls, two series that thrived via their unconventional understandings of family and adept look at the awkwardness of adolescence for both teens and parents.

However, I had three misgivings after the pilot that have unfortunately only been aggravated as I watched two more episodes.  The first is the screaming lack of diversity in the casting of the show, which is set in an urban area and with enough examinations of Lux’s background in foster care that it really does seem like Life Unexpected has taken us via the wayback machine to the 1997 WB roster of predominantly white characters. The second is the uneven examination of the foster care system; we hear only negative things–hints of horrific stories of the families that Lux and her friends have been placed with over the years. The foster care system in this country is indeed deeply flawed, but there are people involved with it who have the best of intentions and who have helped children find love and security in their lives. It would serve the show well to more thoroughly explore this tension of a bureaucratic monster that often–but not always–thwarts the creation and support of loving family units, rather than simply use it as a backdrop for explaining Lux’s pluckiness and sarcasm or for reminding Cate and Baze that they’ve always had it easy compared to their daughter. Last, and emerging from the previous misgiving, the tone of the series is uncertain. The melodrama of Lux’s situation is fairy straightforward, but there are attempts to infuse humor into the adult characters’ personas and situations in particular–and the right balance just isn’t emerging for me yet. It’s not that some of the scenarios we see aren’t amusing (such as when a social worker visits Baze’s bar and finds a lamp made out of a bong)…It’s more that the periodic scripted “insert funny moment here” feel to the somedy robs the show of opportunities to fulfill its ability to be realistically heartfelt. I am still waiting to see some of the blowout fights and meltdowns that I am pretty damn sure (being adopted myself) would be occurring between birth mom and dad, daughter and birth parents, Cate and her mother, etc.  Instead the humor kicks in when such opportunities present themselves and I can almost hear a CW executive in the wings asking the producers to make sure they “don’t let things get too depressing.” This is perhaps the biggest missed opportunity; one of the hallmarks of Everwood and Gilmore Girls was that their humor was always fully motivated and never stood in the way of representing the uncomfortably realistic moments that occur in any family that has a teenager in it.

So right now, Life Unexpected isn’t living up to my expectations–either in terms of reminding me fondly of the shows I used to love on WB or in terms of offering a fresh and original portrayal of a unique teen girl and her parents. I actually do plan on holding my breath for improvement, though–I am hopeful that the network and producers will figure out where they want to go and follow the natural lines of the premise of this story. At the very least, it’s nice to see a show that a teenager can watch with their parents that offers some sense of realistic teen behavior and respects a teen perspective, and that still gives voice to a parental viewpoint as well. While it’s disheartening that for a show to accomplish simply this is “unexpected” on TV, I’m hopeful that the series can move beyond this basic accomplishment and strive to live up to its title by telling stories that reveal the ways in which life and family can surprise us–for both better and worse.

I’ll use last night’s experience as an example. I have a habit (age be damned) of working furiously on my laptop while most TV shows are on. Usually I only have to “really watch” when a serial drama is on (Lost, Mad Men, Glee), which means I can count on a few hours of work time each night while a DVR’d sitcom runs. So there I am last night, trying to write up a report for my job while my husband pulls up these two shows. And all of a sudden, I find myself having to actually watch the tv screen for three reasons: the acting and dialogue is top notch, calling my attention aurally; the jokes and story points are visually oriented, meaning if I’m not looking I’m not catching the full story; and the situations that gave the genre its moniker are delightfully realistically funny.

On The Middle what grabbed me was a dual storyline about the teenagers: daughter Sue, hopelessly awkward and socially inept, wants a pair of ridiculously priced jeans and her mom caves in; son Axl wants a car (without having to work for it) and his dad says he’ll get him one for the same amount spent on his sister’s jeans. Simple? Beyond doubt. But what charmed me was the timeless universality of the problem: in an era radically different from the one I grew up in, these demands could have easily appeared in the shows I grew up with. But somehow, this all seems different. Perhaps it’s because the Heck family really can’t afford these expenditures and the show actually takes pains to make this a part of the comedy. Perhaps it’s because Frankie’s (the mom’s) voiceovers add poignancy to her purchase of the jeans because she explains her empathy for her daughter’s emotional and psychological need to fit in at school. Maybe it’s because the show reveals a power struggle between the parents over the money spent and the problematic lessons imparted to the kids. Maybe it’s because the kids are deliciously imperfect and selfish and rude in the way that teens can be—and the parents are deliciously stressed, cutting corners with home, family, spouse, and work as they try to make life for their kids as complete as possible.

I had to keep my computer idle as Modern Family whirred on (and also because my husband insisted I had to “see this, see this—look up from your work, you’re missing this”). There is always a lot going on with this multigenerational sitcom, but last night what got me was the comeuppance (of sorts) of new parents Mitchell and Cameron as they attempt to sleep train their infant daughter Lily. (And let me just insert here that I love the fact that my students watch this show!) Mitchell and Cameron are an uber-suburban upper-middle class couple when it comes to their baby—they fall prey to every advice book (in this case Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems, by Richard Ferber) and every trend in child-rearing you can imagine as they fret over their first child. In an hysterical visual joke, babycam footage (a simple audio baby monitor is no longer sufficient in this country for new parents) reveals Cameron sneaking into baby Lily’s room when she starts crying at 4am, breaking the cardinal Ferber rule of letting your baby “cry it out,” a method Cameron has explained in the show’s documentary style confessional moment that he finds reprehensible. So into the bedroom he goes—and as I watch the actual babycam footage, Mitchell (pro-Ferber) pops up from behind Lily’s crib to shoo his husband back out of the room. As a parent who has had many a late-night argument with my spouse over pretty much exactly this scenario (though we don’t have that babycam—we’re too much like the Heck family financially to swing that) I just about peed my pants. I just have to love the fact that a traditional family sitcom has managed to give me a gay couple to identify with (as opposed to liberally root for). And as with The Middle, I enjoy the representation of parents who don’t always know what they’re doing, and of parents who argue over how best to raise their kids instead of always pleasantly grooving along together.

So three cheers for the return of the family sitcom to TV! These two are fun and have actually made me start to think about what feminism means in lived reality in relation to parenthood and marriage. I don’t have that quite figured out yet…perhaps it has something to do with determining how to attend to the needs and desires of those you love without sacrificing your self-respect and sanity…but in the meantime I intend to ponder this “modern family ” dilemma from the vantage point of being stuck in “the middle” of it all.