Since my first blog post here, I’ve finished my course work, passed quals, become ABD, and all of the other “smaller” academic milestones along the way. I have even conducted meaningful dissertation research that I completely made up and directed on my own. I’ve not only learned how to write a successful conference proposal (something that eluded me my first year), I’ve even started being selective in which conferences to apply to because I don’t have the resources and time to present at them all. I’m finally an expert on something (my dissertation research), and no one on earth knows this one little thing better than I do (no one on earth cares as much as I do, either). I have failed bigger than I ever have in my life, and never before have I felt so simultaneously smart and ignorant. Truly, the more you know, the more you know you don’t know.
So, here I find myself once again, writing about writing, but I’m in a very different place now. In June, I moved out of my beloved college town in which I inhabited space for 10 years, and into my mom’s basement (the “lower level”, as she likes to remind me). Livin’ the dream, folks, livin’ the dream. As I occupy a very different physical space than I did four years ago, I also find myself in a different mental space, as well.
Four years have come and gone, and taken their toll. I know what it’s like to struggle, succeed, fail, meet deadlines, and watch them go whooshing by (in case you didn’t know that it was possible to cancel/reschedule your quals 5 times, it is). I know what it’s like to be depressed, and to relate to all of those articles about PhD students and depression. I know what it’s like to have such thankfulness in your heart for life circumstances that seem ideal for being a PhD student, and then have those other things happen…those things that completely shake you and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the night, let alone a PhD program…
Life happens, and it doesn’t stop happening so that you can graduate. You have to live the life that’s happening, and re-evaluate your plan… you have to let dreams die, and find the courage to let yourself dream new ones. It takes strength that you didn’t know you had (mine comes from friends, family, and Jesus). It takes humility…sometimes to admit defeat, but to ask for another chance…or to somehow ask for help, or at least take it when it’s offered. It takes community…I would never have made it this far without my fellow PhD students and academic mentors pushing me forward, or without the prayers and support of friends and family holding me up. It takes an eye-on-the-prize determination and grit that I don’t even know if I have, because I haven’t even finished yet.
My mom likes to remind me that getting a PhD requires sacrifice. When I’m sad when I can’t do that fun/responsible/grown-up/normal-person thing because I don’t have the funds/time/energy…when my life plan takes a nosedive and I find myself back at the drawing board and with no plan at all (a scary place for me to be) …I need to be reminded that it’s worth it. That I’m called to it. That it will be over soon. That I can do it. Every time I get to that low place, and I get afraid, a beloved mentor says to me: When was the last time you did something worthwhile that wasn’t hard?
Anything worthwhile is worth sacrifice.
Getting a PhD is hard.
I’m so thankful that I get to do this hard thing.
Oh.em.gee. I can’t believe I’m in what looks to be my final semester of the PhD. You guys…I’m writing a dissertation! I know, you can’t believe it either. Or maybe you can. Personally, I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around how to write a dissertation, which might be the reason why it is not going very smoothly at all (*insert nomination for understatement of the year*).
I’m so thankful that the Lord has gotten me this far, but wow– there’s still a long way to go before I defend my dissertation in December (I hope and pray and hope and pray)!
It’s after midnight, and I came to my desk three hours ago to get to work. Instead of work, I found procraductivity. The first hour was spent organizing my files (how am I supposed to write about research that is digitally strewn all over my laptop?!). The second hour was spent on Facebook and Instagram, chatting with friends over text, and reading another person’s blog (which is basically how I feel like I spend most of my life lately). In the third hour, I finally decided that if I’m not going to get any actual work done, I want to at least do some writing (I set a goal this week to write 4-5 pages per day…let’s all laugh together). That’s when I remembered my own blog.
I started this blog four years ago as a new PhD student for the purpose of writing practice (and to complete a final project requirement during my first semester). People in the PhD world always say that the best way to make progress on writing is to write…ANYTHING. I guess the theory is that it is like Drano for the pipe that goes from your brain to your fingers: cleaning out the bits of your life that get stuck inside of you, flushing it out so that those beautiful-but-sticky academic thoughts can make their way down stream.
So, here I am…trying to get the pipes working again.
Four years ago me, on this blog, sounds so different than what I hear my narrative voice sounding like today. She was stressed out but determined; a little rambling yet to the point; kind of funny, and even “sunny” (a way my friend and PhD colleague describes my academic writing). Optimistic, some might say. She always had a lesson to learn or a poignant take-away for her reader. Aww. She was so cute, clueless, and had no idea what was about to hit her.
She knew something was coming, but she could have never guessed what…
As a second-year PhD student, I’ve gotten used to the grading system of grad school: all students get As, except when you get a B, which might as well be an F. In other words, you either cut it or you don’t. They probably should just make all classes pass or fail at this point in your graduate school career. I’m also not used to getting anything less than an A, ever. How do you think I got to this point anyway? I’m going to take a guess and say not many below-A (maybe below B+) students decide to become a career student (yes, I said “career student”—let’s just call it like it is). I took some time this week to think about the last time I got anything other than an A for a final grade. (In case you are wondering, it was freshman year of college when I blew-off University Choir in favor of naps and re-runs on TLC; yes, I got a B in choir…har har har).
This semester, however, has been somewhat of a deviation from my previous experiences. Not only am I literally barely passing a statistics course, but I also have a professor that has, thus far in the semester to my knowledge, given one student an A on any assignment we’ve had in her course. Uncharacteristically, I am not exaggerating. I have gotten Fs on my past two stats homework assignments, and homework is worth 50% of our grade. In case you’re not so good with the math (in which I apparently am no genius either), I’m well on my way to getting a grad-school equivalent of a big fat fail in this required course. Yay. As for the other class, my professor who just can’t bring herself to give any of my work an evaluation higher than a B, just gave our class a speech about how her grading reflects her honest evaluation of our work at a high-caliber institution such as ours. Oh, lovely—that makes me feel SO much better. She’s basically saying that she’s not sure why we were even admitted here, as we apparently can’t meet up to the standards. I actually thought I liked her at the beginning of the semester.
Today was a special moment in stats class. I got my midterm back, and it was a 97%. What.the.heck. Believe me when I say that after that exam, I was so confused about how I did that I had to resign myself to failing. It was not a case of, “Oh, you always do that but then you always get an A”. No, friends, this truly was a ridiculously confusing test that I apparently guessed my way through pretty well. In my mind, the A was the same as an F. I went into office hours and told my TA that I didn’t understand, but he didn’t believe me. I asked a question about the one part that I missed points on and totally didn’t understand what he was explaining to me. I, of course, sat there, nodded my head, and then told him I didn’t understand. He just smiled, shrugged, and said, “Well, you did well on the test, so I wouldn’t worry too much.” You’ve got to be kidding me.
On the other hand, in my other class, I feel like I am learning so much and am even able to apply that knowledge to my research. Yet, I can’t get an A to save my life. In that case, I don’t think the grade is at all reflecting what I’m learning, but in the opposite way. What.the.heck.
Obviously, I have to dig my heels in and try harder in both of these courses. For the one, I’m going to have to re-arrange my work schedule to make time to go to my stats TA’s office hours. Me + my TA = BFFs is my new model for statistics class. I’m hoping that the more time I spend in office hours will have a positive linear correlation to my understanding of the material (yeah…I don’t even know what that means). At this point, I just want to pass. Forget the A—just help me avoid the F. For the other course, I’m going to have to spend more time on my writing assignments, and raise the bar a little higher for myself. In both cases, what I am doing right now just isn’t cutting it. I need to change my approach (or else change my career, and we all know that it’s a little too late to turn back now).
What is the point of a grade in grad school? In both of these cases, it is not a fair evaluation of what I am learning in these courses. In some ways, it is purely an evaluation of my instructor’s expectations. I have had to adjust my own expectations, in the mean time. It’s no longer about being a straight-A student. I’m pretty sure jobs are not going to care what my GPA was during my second year of my PhD; instead, they’ll care about if I actually finished my dissertation (Lord, please don’t let me die ABD). Now, apparently, what is important is learning, and no one is keeping me accountable for that. Only I know if I am learning, and only I can make myself do that. Learning, not the grade, is what I have to focus on.
If only there was something out there that institutions used to hold me accountable to learning…like a grade…-_-.
Let’s be honest: We all need a reason to get up in the mornings. (Ok, maybe not if you’re a morning person, but if you aren’t a morning person, you definitely know what I mean). When I was dog sitting for a friend’s dog last month, I always had a reason to wake up at 6 a.m.—Sadie, the dog. She demanded that I wake-up at that time in fact, and that is one reason why I refuse to own a dog at this stage in my life. When I kept my little 7 year old cousin for a few days this summer, he also demanded that I wake-up at 6 a.m.—one reason why even in my most “I-really-need-to-have-children-now” moments, I can find even a very tiny inkling of thankfulness in the unanswered prayers. Every Tuesday and Friday, I have to wake-up at 6 a.m. because I am expected to be at a morning prayer meeting because a group of friends in Christian ministries that I am involved in meet at that time to pray—and somewhat unfortunately, those are the only two days I go to that prayer meeting that meets every week day, because, the truth of the matter is: I need a reason to get up in the mornings.
Meetings have a way of waking me up and motivating me to start doing something other than lounging around in my PJs and drink coffee. There’s something about another person (or dog) expecting me to do something that actually makes me turn off the snooze, take off the slippers, and be productive with my life. When I don’t have meetings, it’s not that I lounge around all day—it’s just that my productivity and participation in life in the outside world starts significantly later. In fact, that’s been one of the most difficult transitions of being a student again: no one expects me to be anywhere for most of the normal “working hours” during the week. Therefore, my days have been somewhat poorly managed, especially since two out of three of my classes are night classes. Especially in the last week, my days and nights have been somewhat flipped, as I didn’t take advantage of the morning hours, and started to check-off things on my rather large to-do-list later in the day. If I have a meeting, even if it’s in the afternoon, I tend to schedule my 24 hours better, seeing that I do not in fact have several hours during the day to do nothing, because hey, look—I have a meeting, so I had better get started on things before I run out of time.
Another reason I love meetings is that I love the synergy of many brains thinking about the same things. I know so many people who roll their eyes at meetings, but I find that, if led in an efficient manner, meetings can really bring out more productivity (for any kind of group). Instead of communicating about a conference presentation over email with my co-presenters, this past week we made time to sit down for an hour and talk it out, the good old-fashioned way. In this age of efficiency = no face time = millions of emails/wikis/dropbox adds, etc, I found it refreshing and incredibly efficient to decide on the outline and content of our presentation with the three of us in the same room, communicating synchronously, without having to push a button and wait for the other person to talk, or wait several hours (or days) later for a group member to respond. Not only was our presentation more cohesive, but we came up with a better focus after discussing our target audience and reviewing our main thesis. Meetings help me to produce better work.
Meetings also provide me with the opportunity to connect with others, both professionally and personally, that share common interests and goals. This week I and some colleagues had a meeting with a Department Chair and another professor in that department. While we met to discuss our research on international student interactions on campus, I was able to also talk with the professor about my dissertation research for a few minutes after the formal meeting. We sat in the board room after everyone else had gone, and she was kind enough to bounce around some ideas about possible topics for my future research, which also happens to fit in with the scope of what her lab is currently studying. Had we not scheduled that face-to-face meeting, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to spontaneously exchange ideas and see a place where my skills could potentially benefit other research on campus. Meetings are simply essential to collaboration, in my opinion.
Of course, there are those meetings where I roll my eyes, check my phone a thousand times, and wonder why anyone would put me through such strange torture. Although, most of those instances occur because the meeting is poorly organized, or there is no clear focus for the purpose of the gathering. It is very important that all people in the meeting are aware of the purpose and intended outcomes of the meetings, as I recently learned through a conflict with someone in a volunteer group that I lead. They were going to miss a leadership meeting because, essentially, they didn’t see the importance of the meeting that I had scheduled. Much to my disappointment, I realized that I had failed to clearly communicate the purpose of the monthly gatherings (or, at the very least, he failed to listen closely when I talked about the purpose at our last meeting). I often find that if the leader has a clear vision for the meetings and clearly communicates that to the others involved, it can be a great addition to someone’s workday and a very good use of time.
Today, however, I was in the middle of my day full of meetings, wondering when I would get a chance to sit down for an hour and keep all of my thoughts, brilliant ideas, and advice to myself. I was looking forward to the free 45 minutes in my schedule where I could just stare into space (or at Facebook or BBC news) just to not have to communicate or be productive. Once I got that chance, I reflected on how appreciative I was of the meetings I had today. I got to mentor, teach, and collaborate with some really amazing people about things that I care about. Even when I don’t love meetings, I love meetings.
Want to meet up sometime?
I have a problem. I’m addicted to procrastination. I really am. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. Finishing my high school AP summer reading list in one week, writing my grad school application the night before it’s due, buying clothes online minutes before the sale expires—you get the idea. Tonight after my night class, I have two papers to write, which—according to my writing process—I’ve already started in my head some time ago and even hand-written an outline for; however, I’m just not quite ready for the pound-it-out session. So, I roamed Target for two hours and finally went to find the computer paper, (the thing I came for), as soon as they made the “store is now closed” announcement. That’s me—procrastinating even while shopping. It’s annoying, and it’s even worse to see written out.
That being said, it’s not all bad news to be a procrastinator. I find that I’m actually quite productive when I procrastinate. Since I’m a student again, I am productive while I procrastinate on writing assignments and readings for class. Apart from catching up on all current events, world news, and friends’ blogs, I also tend to become very “home-makery”. This week alone I’ve baked brownies, a carrot cake, cooked several meals (usually a rare occasion), and hosted a dinner party for 10 friends on Monday night. My laundry is done (although remains unfolded in baskets). I’m just waiting for the right assignment to come around so that I can commence the folding. I also have caught up on all of my other household duties, including calling the lawn man to come mow, decorating for fall (mini pumpkins and multicolored corn), and have fully vacuumed the floors in every room. Following the last vacuuming episode, I also decided to empty the vacuum dust-carriage thing (obvious procrastination, there), which ended in a second vacuuming episode (note to the wise: empty the dust-carriage thing before you vacuum your whole house…you’re welcome).
Shopping is also an excellent way to productively avoid work. I’ve recently updated my wardrobe with the latest (and most on-sale) fashions, which has taken quite some time, perusing websites of both new-to-me-stores and my tried and true go-tos. This is mostly problematic because I am a student and now have a student’s paycheck. I really should not be spending my time shopping online (or elsewhere, for that matter, including random trips to the outlet mall, per last week’s procrastination, or late night paper-runs to Target).
To curb the impulse buying, I began to do grocery shopping at a Smaller Grocery Store instead of one-stop-super-shop. The Smaller Grocery Store doesn’t even usually sell scented candles, so the only things I am tempted by are hardy mums (that was also included in my fall decorating procrastination moment) and the rare bottle of good, on-sale (there’s an oxymoron for you) wine. Did I mention that I use grocery shopping as a procrastination method? All of that cooking requires more trips to the store, which apparently I am ok with now that I don’t want to do anything else on my to-do list.
Although there is much to be said for working ahead on course assignments (and sometimes I try—it’s just not as fun), I do enjoy the productivity that happens during my procrastination. I’ve decided to call this “procraductivity”: The productivity that occurs while one is procrastinating. It’s a phenomenon that I believe many people relate to, as I put it on my Facebook status as I was procrastinating writing this assignment and in just 2 minutes I had 13 likes. I don’t know why I do it, and I’ve tried to be a different type of person who starts things in advance and doesn’t wait until the deadline is looming…it’s just not me. My brain must be addicted to the rush so much that it refuses to work until it gets it. Either that, or, it just takes too much effort to work ahead. At least I can be thankful that, while it’s not always popular and it doesn’t sound responsible to procrastinate as much as I do, I am indeed being productive. My roommate, my house, and my wardrobe thank me for it.
 On a completely unrelated note: I’ve started noticing that the Smaller Grocery Store I frequent hires employees with special needs to work during the day time. I didn’t notice this before this semester because I did most of my shopping in the evening. I am so thrilled with them that I’ve made a commitment to do all of my grocery shopping there. I have a cousin with cerebral palsy, and my mother is the Director for Special Education in a school district, so people with special needs are close to my heart. Way to go, Smaller Grocery Store!
From the beginnings of considering a PhD, my mentality has been to finish the degree as fast as possible. For one, starting a PhD at the age of 30 definitely feels like I’m in the category of “better late than never”. I feel my mental capacity to remember things slipping through my proverbial fingers, and already am realizing that it’s going to take a little more effort to finish this degree than it did to get either a bachelor’s or a master’s, simply because I’m going to have to work a little harder to learn the material. Does this really happen at 30 years old? Am I really already talking about feeling “older”? Evidently, yes and yes.
Secondly, I want to do other things with my life besides get degrees, like have a family, and make a difference in my career and field. I know it’s not entirely true, but the thought of simultaneously pursuing a PhD and doing either of those things seems like something only a crazy person would do. I do know a few “crazy” people, and know that it can be done, but still—let’s just get through this thing before I turn 35. That seems like a reasonable goal.
Being a planner, and having this goal of finishing my degree in Education Policy in under four years, one of the main frustrations is that I’ve yet to nail down my advisor for a meeting. Having been a faculty member (of sorts—I just held the title of Lecturer) for the past four years, I understand the barrage of emails and requests to meet. That being said, I need a little guidance here. So, I’m kind of shooting from the hip, signed-up for random courses, and through some elementary math of my own, have come to the conclusion that I can probably do it—all with the help and approval of my advisor (insert *sigh*…he’s a nice man, he really is). As I signed-up for courses and started making a degree completion plan, the obvious choice for me was to take as many credit hours as possible during my first two years so that I would be freed up to write my dissertation at the end. 16 credit hours? Sure. Dare I squeeze in 20? I mean, I’m only working 67% in my job (former job, current assistantship) right now. It could be humanly possible, right? Maybe just 16 credit hours. Ok, that sounds reasonable. I also put in many, many volunteer hours for my church and service projects on the side, but hey—I’m single, no children, and what else am I doing with my time? Must. Finish. PhD. ASAP. And, not to be forgotten—Must. Avoid. Grad. Student. Poverty.
Enter a panel of experienced grad students in my field during an intro course. “Work smarter, not harder”. I don’t remember who said it, and I remember hearing it before, but I don’t remember ever being so ready to take a random piece of advice from someone I don’t know. I was already feeling overwhelmed to the point of breaking. Two of my four classes are being taught online, which is definitely not a mode of instruction I’m comfortable with. Teaching online is different than learning online. My professors can’t see my facial expressions. I can’t interject my verbal opinions, or easily ask a question to show that I’m engaged, interested, and dare I say—intelligent. Learning to learn online has been tough. My third class, Ethnography in Global Context, basically has us reading one book per week plus teaching the class (“leading class discussion”) once per week, as there were only seven students in the class. I also quickly realized that I didn’t really know what Ethnography was when I registered for the class, and now that I know what it is, I know that I don’t want to do it. Eeek.
On top of that, my department called me in to say that they would like for me to teach a regular, full semester course. They would pay me 67% both semesters, but I wouldn’t have to teach at all the second semester. This would be in addition to my administrative position of Cultural Engagement Coordinator (which involves heading-up an internship, coordinating a volunteer program, and fun things like schedule a picnic for 250 people two times in one month because both dates got rained out). This would also be on top of an online class I teach with a different university during the fall semester. I must have had the look of death on my face when they asked me, because I got a call the next day asking if I really was ok with that assignment, and did I want to back out. Anxiety, stress, fear of disappointing my boss, afraid that my backing out would mean a very busy semester for someone else…I was truly at a breaking point and wanted to say yes, but couldn’t because of the crack in my voice.
“Work smarter, not harder.” Someone said that taking many courses at the same time would only mean having to go back at a later point and re-read the things that I would have only had time to skim. Going faster through courses at the beginning did not mean checking off my requirements; it could and would probably mean that I would have to add some time on later devoted to re-reading the material from the courses. At that point, I started scribbling long-addition (is that even a thing?) on my notebook. Could I actually only take 12 credit hours this semester and still graduate in under four years? Did I remember any of the readings I had done for my courses last week, not to mention learn anything through them? I was already on my way to skimming through the first two years of the PhD program. I decided then and there, after re-working my terrible addition and multiplication about five times, that I would drop my Ethnography course and that I wouldn’t teach this semester.
Then and there, I realized the one thing that would have to be different about this degree than my previous ones: I would need to remember what I read for longer than the next paper or test, because the “final” paper or test would actually not be for four years.
Work smarter, not harder. Thanks for the advice, whoever you were. I’m testing it out.