Ends and Beginnings

For many years, as a graduate student, I have marked the passing of time by the beginning and end of semesters. Most semesters are hectic and stressful, trying to balance school work, teaching, and family life. Two semesters have been marked by births (not very prolific study-wise). Sometimes I work for a spell in the summer, but summers for the past few years have been largely spent at home with the kids. During these times I vacillate between savoring the sweetest moments of infancy and wanting to tear my hair out… that’s just how it is.

When people wonder, amazed why I didn’t wait until finishing my studies to have kids, I always think how perfect it has been. I get to spend a lot of time with them (summers, winter breaks, spring breaks, and many afternoons or mornings), but at the same time, (and not because being a mother isn’t enough, but because I personally need it) I have something else to focus on-- something that causes a similar contradiction in me: it is both immensely satisfying to do something so academic and intellectual… but at the same time I often want to pull my hair out.

It is the end of the summer (though not the heat unfortunately.) I am both sad and relieved that tomorrow I will take the kids to their care center…

… and I will go back to work. I only teach part-time, but I will have to work HARD to finish my dissertation. If I am lucky, this will be my last semester… ever…

(or until the next learning itch—which will hopefully not be as monumental.)

I guess there is a slight possibility that I will have to finish up in the spring, but mostly, I am dedicated to getting it done before December. Can you imagine? I hardly can think of what will become of my life when I am no longer a graduate student? I don’t know…

The only thing for certain is that you will have to call me Doctor.

I can’t cure disease or find alternative fuels and I may not even be able to find a job. But after all this work, I should at least be able to demand to be addressed properly, right?