My masters degree concentrated in vocal performance, but I knew that I didn't want to be an opera star. I actually started with a masters in history, but I discovered that I could sing so I thought I should really work the performance angle while I was still young. Turned out to be a great decision, considering that my livelihood at present depends greatly on what I learned as a masters student. After that, there was three years of hell in the New York City Public school system before I finally followed my dream of getting a Ph.D.
But where did this dream come from? Why did it suddenly become so damned important to me? I recall an incident at Hunter that happened after I graduated. There was a concert at Lang Recital Hall (I think that's what it was called) and afterwards, I was standing around chatting up the other attendees. Professor D. came over to talk to me and asked me how things were going. I told her about teaching seventh grade and how it sucked (I probably used the word "challenging" or something suitably euphemistic), and how much I wanted to move on to a doctoral program. That much I already knew. I figured the only way out of the hell of teaching middle school was getting another degree.
To my great shock, Professor D. discouraged me. It's not worth it, she said. You won't be able to find work, she said. You're going to struggle and starve to get this degree, and end up with nothing to show for it but tens of thousands of dollars in debt.
I'm sorry, what?
I've never had anyone discourage me from more school before. But for some reason it didn't throw me. What came out of my mouth next was the real surprise. I thought I was about to make a joke. Perhaps a mocking sort of joke at the highfalutin reasons why people stay in academia. "But, Professor D.," I said. "I really want to make a commitment to scholarship." Ha ha. Okay, so it's not a knee-slapper, but it also turned out to be TRUE. It wasn't until I said it that I realized how true it was. It was like my brain had been thinking about this without letting me know, planning this behind the scenes, maybe when I was sleeping or watching movies I'd already seen. And my brain waited for a moment when I would least expected it to pop out and yell, "SURPRISE!!!!"
I wanted to learn more, even if it meant having a Ph.D. and driving a cab (and God help my passengers because I have the worst sense of direction ever). I wanted the knowledge and the expertise and I was stubborn enough not to care about the practical aspects of how to live during and after the degree-getting. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!! Luckily, I got jobs teaching college. Right away. Before I was even finished with my degree. And it was everything that I hoped for: students who were interested in the subject, who didn't try to kill each other with box-cutters, who were there because they wanted to be. I started a full-time teaching job exactly one year after I graduated. I am in the minority. It worked out for me. Granted, I still have my massive student loan to pay back, but I have a means of doing it, i.e. a job.
It doesn't work out for a lot of people. Some never actually finish because it's a huge undertaking, especially the dissertation. And if you work full time to support yourself, or if you have a family, it's that much more difficult to find the time to put it all together. If you do finish, you might be able to find a job in the middle of nowhere--certainly nowhere near where you are--and that might not be so hot if you have a bread-winning spouse who needs to stay HERE for work.
There are thousands of ways for it to go wrong, and I didn't give a crap about any of them. I made a commitment to scholarship. It's probably the only thing I can still commit to. Hey, hey! *rimshot* But seriously, folks. I've made a contribution to my field, published articles and given papers, and that was exactly what I wanted to do. What I still want to do.
There's been a lot of stuff written recently about the "Big Lie" in academia. The Big Lie that an advanced degree allows you to write your own ticket. You can't. Not really. You are at the mercy of a lot of things out of your control. If colleges and universities have hiring freezes because of the economy, there are no jobs to be had. Period. Nothing is a guarantee. Is it worth it anyway? It was for me. Even if I didn't have a job, I doubt I'd regret being Doc G. But that's me.
In the twelve years since that fateful conversation, I thought a lot about what Professor D. said to me. She told me about the Big Lie. She told me what was likely to happen, what the odds were. I don't think she had any doubt I'd get the degree, but she knew the real challenge would come afterwards. You can control your own work towards the Ph.D., but you can't control job availability once you're done. I heard what she said, of course. This is woman who wastes no words. To my great astonishment, however, I was willing, eager even, to make all the sacrifices necessary to get the degree and a job in academia (or suffer without one). I don't know if I will ever again experience that kind of singleness of mind and purpose. Or if the world will ever again cooperate so fully to help me achieve my goals.
All I know is that it is done, and cannot be undone, and for that I am eternally grateful.
