Graduate School

The decision to start graduate school has been long in coming. As soon as Husband finished school three years ago, the plan was for me to do my Master's. I dragged my feet for two reasons: 1) we were working hard to become debt-free, and 2) I didn't know exactly what I wanted to study. The truth is that the options are pretty limited for educators: administration (which is all the worst parts of my job and none of the fun ones), counseling (I already spend too much time at school), curriculum & instruction (standards, outcomes, benchmarks, belch), or library sciences. The latter sounds fun, but the truth is it's mostly about research and technology (not about books), and schools are CUTTING library staff, not hiring them. So as I have considered my options over the years, I discovered something that sounds bad to admit as a teacher, and that is that I don't love the field of education. I love my job because of relationships with kids and my content area, and the academic field of education focuses on neither. I have always known it does not get my heart pumping, and now that it came time to decide on a degree, I just couldn't pledge myself to 30+ credit hours of educational study about which I wasn't wholly passionate. I decided, with some trepidation, to do my graduate work in English.

I considered two major universities in the area. The first call I made did not go well. The woman was incredibly impatient and didn't seem to have time for my questions. To her credit, she did apologize midway through the conversation with "I'm sorry - I realize I'm talking to you like you're a second grader. I didn't get much sleep last night." Not exactly professional, and while conversation was smoother after that, I definitely got a negative vibe from her, the department, and the school. I called the second university and got right through to the dean of the department, who not only took time to dialogue with me as if I was an adult, but seemed enthusiastic about my interest and encouraged me to ask questions. I hung up the phone with no question as to which institution I would be attending.

I got my application in order, turned in all my letters of recommendation, and received approval shortly thereafter. I met face-to-face with the dean the following month to discuss the program. His office was covered with books (obviously), maps, and photographs from all over the world. Turns out we've been to some of the same places abroad, and he was interested in our upcoming trip to Singapore. I felt it was safe to say we hit it off!

The course plan is BEAUTIFUL because there are so many options and so much freedom to choose. There are obviously required classes, but most are personal choice as long as the literature studied falls within a certain time period. We settled on "Rhetorical Theory & Teaching," an online class that didn't seem as fun as some of the others, but responsible, nonetheless, and a face-to-face class taught by the dean himself called "King Arthur in Literature and Film."

I began both classes on Monday, July 3rd. I didn't breathe freely again until I turned in my last paper (54 pages) on July 23rd. I knew grad school was going to be work, but OHMYGOODNESS. I thought I worked hard in undergrad, but the truth is (as any education major can tell you), the degree itself isn't all that hard. It's hoop-jumping, I-dotting, T-crossing type of work. The hardest class I had in undergrad was, in fact, an English class, not an education class.

I felt out-of-my-league for sure when completed the first assignment for my online class. I was the first to post on the discussion board (the assignment was to introduce myself). Since I don't know anyone or anything, I kept it brief, name, where I live, that I'm a teacher. The replies started pouring in, and most of the women (not a single man) were high school teachers or college professors re-certifying. I'm pretty sure I was the only person who didn't teach at either of those levels. The textbook reading was awful and dry and long and complicated, and even though I know this stuff (it was essentially the writing process), it was difficult and exhausting to try to trudge through the scholarly prose, much of which was ancient Greek philosophy that made my eyes cross. The good news is I worked my tail end off and earned a 99.4%. The bad news is that it was truly awful.

But my face-to-face class. MY FACE-TO-FACE CLASS. It was so glorious. It moved at a pace I was completely unprepared for. I bought the 600-page textbook, but I didn't realize we'd be cramming all 600 pages into two-and-a-half weeks! I hired baby-sitters. I went to McDonald's and let the kids play in the play area for like three hours. I stayed up PAST TEN O'CLOCK. I ignored my family and friends. I spent every spare moment reading. I read particularly obscure parts of the text into my phone and then listened to them on the commute. I found LibriVox (GOD BLESS LIBRIVOX) and listened to other translations. I read the entire textbook in under three weeks. I took PAGES of notes in my brand-spanking new Vera Bradley notebook. In short, I worked harder at school than I ever have in my life. The first day I was assigned a 45-minute presentation for the following week over an old, authorless 12th century text. I spent tens of hours researching, busted out my Prezi skills, and practiced, practiced, practiced. We took unannounced quizzes every few days, and I prepared ardently. And the truth is...I loved every second of it. I found Arthur fascinating. I loved reading the various interpretations of his stories. I loved analyzing the patterns in the literature, the language, the form, the prose. I loved listening to the lectures about the time period and learning more about the Roman conquest and resulting empire. I have always loved movies, and watching them (which included INDIANA JONES, GUYS), was actually my least favorite part of the class. My professor was not fond of returning grades or the Internet, so I don't know precisely how I did on my presentation or my final, but my quizzes averaged a 92% and my midterm earned a 98%. When I turned my final paper in, he said, "Well, unless this is absolute garbage, I'm pretty sure you know what your grade will be."

If I had wondered whether I made the right decision, pursuing English instead of education, it was settled unequivocally this summer. The teaching class, although it was second-nature and much easier than the other, made me want to stab my eyes out. I dreaded the reading and the work. The Arthur class, instead of making me want to read less, made me want to read more. Instead of satisfying my curiosity, it multiplied it. Instead of being relieved it was over, I was disappointed. And while I'm sure every class won't be like this one - I'm sure there will be plenty more like my online class - I am looking forward to the rest of the program with great and eager excitement.