I am a methodologist

My first encounter with the word “methodologist” happened when I was young, barely twenty years old. I was standing in front of a three-person jury responding to a question at my final oral exam. I was about to graduate from a small teaching college in the Russian Far East with a degree in early childhood education. One of the examiners, a professor from a much larger, regional pedagogical college, seemed impressed and invited me to further my studies in her program. She prophesied my success a methodologist, a person who planned lessons, procured toys and didactic games, kept current on State educational policies and innovations in preschool pedagogies, and trained teachers. Plainly put, I would be responsible for bridging theory and practice, and the allure was there: I loved children, but struggled to keep order in my classroom. A position as a  thoughtful, caring teacher support seemed a wonderful alternative. But my mind’s eye was already fixed on a new challenge–I wanted to learn English. So less than two years later, I boarded a plane to Florida. The term methodologist sank to one of the darker corners of  my consciousness where it remained as I trained in graphic arts, worked as a designer, had family, went back to school to earn a B.A. in psychology and finally, chose to study research methods and evaluation as a graduate student.