| Well, the countdown has started: seven days till the defense. I am excited, but in a...controlled way. I feel as if I still have a lot of work yet to do in order to craft a presentation that will artfully represent my work. This is kind of my big moment: Writing the dissertation you labor alone, ideas bouncing within the confines of your head and (hopefully) flowing over onto the computer screen. But the defense is a chance to showcase yourself and your work. To (again, hopefully) receive public acclaim and acknowledgement for what you have done--and to educate others about an area at which you have become an expert.
So, anyway. My last official rite of passage in the department. Got me thinking about my prior hurdles that got me to this point. During the very first month of this blog, I reflected on the aligning of my academic rites and my children's rites. My kids just completed a "personal timeline" project for their first grade homework. It was interesting for me to do this with them, because their life timeline is also basically my PhD timeline. I do not suppose, however, that there is space in my dissertation to reflect about the time one of my daughters had to have surgery (tonsils, adnoids and ear tubes) or about our numerous trips to Indianapolis for everything from funerals to family reunions--among other things that figured prominently on their timelines. But all these family rites and rituals put all of my academic stuff in balance. Even though they will not appear in the dissertation, the dissertation would have been poorer without them. (Originally posted October 15, 2004) |
1. Search in all those folders in my basement to
2. retrieve my childrens' immunization records to
3. determine if/when they have received a chicken pox vaccine so that I can
4. fill out the "Verification of Chicken Pox Immunization" form and
5. turn it in to the child care center by the deadline.
6. Update my CV for the upcoming conference employment matching service
All very worthy tasks that likely will not get done today. In the past I have tried to do what How-to-PhD books (and other books on other how-to motivational topics) tell me to and break up larger tasks into smaller ones. That is supposed to make the task seem less daunting. But that motivational trick has not worked for me when steps 1-5 above have been on my "To Do" List (as opposed to this "Probably Won't Do" List). The reason, I think, is that I secretly want my children to get the chicken pox.
I remember when the physician first told my husband and me about this vaccine. We both hesitated, decided not to give our kids the shot (much to the doctor's surprise), and had to sign a legalese-filled paper indicating we had been offered the vaccine and understood what it was for but still declined anyway.
This anti-chicken pox drug was not around when I was a child. When I was young, getting the chicken pox was just something that naturally happened--like losing your baby teeth or figuring out and accepting the non-logic of Santa Clause.
The summer I got the "chicken pops" (as my little sister called it) my three cousins were staying for several weeks with us. One by one, we all came down with it. I remember stinky but soothing creams and lotions, long baths in a powdery substance, and directions to NOT SCRATCH OR ELSE YOU MAY BE SCARRED FOR LIFE. I'm sure I experienced discomfort. But what I remember more was me, my sister, and cousins all going through something together and how nice it was to receive so much attention and nurturing from the adults.
It was a rite of passage.
I remember being amazed at the time with the idea of going through something major and painful, but then never having to endure it again. Having and then overcoming the chicken pox would prove that I had achieved an important marker separating childhood from a slightly more mature childhood.
I am not sure that my children, with their much more comfortable and safe (car seats? What about riding around the bed of my grandfather's truck with rusty wrenches and loose nails rolling around?) childhood, will experience many rites of passage--at least not ones that are more or less "natural," shared by almost all other children of their cohort, and that might inspire such wonder as contemplating the deeper meaning of chicken pox inspired in me.
SO, what does this have to do with filling out that immunization form, and further what might this have to do with disscratination* ?(*n. procrastination in starting/completing tasks related to the doctoral dissertation)
First, turning in that form will, I am afraid, reveal things about my selfishness. I think I remember that eventually, after several wellbaby visits to the doctor and several times filling out that legal form where I admit I am a bad mother for not protecting my child from the pox--eventually I think we decided to go ahead and get it. Part of our reasoning was that our children were older, they could better withstand any potential negative reactions from the vaccine. But another part--at least, speaking for myself--was the disapproval I perceived I might get from other parents, teachers, and others. How would I be viewed if I had not taken the steps to avert an avoidable discomfort for my children? And more importantly, wouldn't getting the chicken pox lose its status as a rite of passage if most children do not have to go through it anymore?
Second, this whole anti-chicken pox thing is haunting me with its analogies to the process of completing a graduate school degree.
I am well aware that in many ways, getting a PhD today is easier than any other time in the history of higher ed. Ask someone in their 60s about their process and you will hear of hand-drawing graphs and figures, of entering data on a punch-card and then walking halfway across campus to the building that housed the huge mainframe computer in order to get that data analyzed. For example, in my own department, I just passed my written preliminary exam: 2 time-consuming, publishable-quality papers. But cohorts just a few years senior than me still had to sit in a room and sweat bullets while they typed out essay answers to some obscure written prelim questions designed by faculty members who themselves had to endure such a process. (And many departments still do written prelims this way.)
So, when going through a PhD program some "illnesses" are endured because we do not have tools to "cure" them (e.g., computer technology). But there are others that are endured (and inflicted) because many people hold to the idea that they are rituals that are important as rites of passage. Unlike my imaginary parenting-police audience, though, it is probably common to think that grad students who do not go through the pain and suffering of whatever PhD rite have not really achieved that special something that turns students into scholars. Like atheletes who use steroids, finding a way to circumvent the common aches of getting a PhD is seen by many as taking the easy way out.
I also suspect that some grad students make things harder on themselves, believing that if they are not broke, tired, hungry, lonely, over-worked, overwhelmed, and over-committed they are not gradstudenting the correct--and authentic--way. And the resulting lack of mettle will be even more evident once on the jobhunting trail (see #6 impossible task above). Or, some may think that this lack of connection to previous generations of scholars will make any sense of isolation they may be feeling even more pronounced.
(Or, maybe we graduate students just like the attention?)
Thus, my disctracting thought for today is:
When is a graduate school task an important rite?
When is that rite a "right"?
When is it, alternately, something that should be cured, exorcised, having outlived its usefulness?
Posted by perry032 at September 17, 2006 08:36 PM