Over the past two years I have excelled in graduate school. I took my course work seriously, presented at numerous national academic conferences, and for one semester managed to work as a union organizer on top of my teaching job at the university. Last summer I juggled auditing a media course, a research fellowship, and my union activism. My friends and acquaintances often told me I was the busiest yet most organized person they know. They would also marvel at my ability to hyper-focus on my school work at seemingly all hours of the day. I would not disagree with any of these reflections, but to me these traits I perform are not always compliments. I tend to thrive on full schedules and feel alive and productive during my self-imposed 14 hour work days. Healthy? Not really. Fulfilling? Pretty much.
And then…this summer came upon me. I am done with coursework. I am not a union organizer anymore. I have a fellowship that graciously funds my preparation for prelim exams set for the end of June. I have a few friends, a few activist projects I dabble in, and a whole lot of free time.
The structure and schedule of a busy graduate student assigned to read 200 pages a week while also preparing original research is wiped from my life. And now I am utterly lost. The first week after the semester ended I waffled between enjoying all my free time and lying comatose in bed watching three seasons of Weeds (not my proudest moment). Interpersonal moments that I usually brush off with ease were eating away at me. Suddenly I had emotions that were not just tied to a scholar’s argument or a graduate worker who hated unions. I had to deal with interpersonal things; interpersonal things were impacting my emotional state. On top of that, my own feelings about myself and my life were suddenly in the forefront of my brain. Um, what? Where did all this come from!?
The graduate school assignment I have been given over the next month is relatively simple. Read a bunch of books, answer a bunch of fairly vague questions about my research interests and methodologies, memorize those answers, and finally type them out in a small classroom over a three-day period. To me, that is like the easiest assignment ever. Lounge around and read some books, write my little heart out, memorize my main points, and then type them all out again in a controlled space? Sure, why not? This assignment is nothing compared to the standards I set for myself for the past two years.
Then why, pray tell, am I barely able to open up a book, let alone read it? Why does it take all my energy to type out a mere summary of a book I have read before? Why I am barely even motivated to write out a 500-word conference proposal?
I can say with ease that no one warned me about this moment. Graduate students warn each other about a lot of stuff. What classes we should avoid teaching, those lazy professors who won’t email you back, the shitty job market, the copy machine that doesn’t work as well as the other one, the coffee in the office which kinda sucks but will get you through the day, the low pay, the stress of coursework. But never in our collective moments did anyone say, “Hey you will absolutely lose your sense of self when you are done with coursework! Good luck!” When I ask people for advice now the reply is typically, “Oh yeah, I remember that moment. This is how it is now. Just get used to it.”
Like anyone suffering any kind of pain, sometimes it is unclear what you need. Your mind is clouded by what pains you and that is not the most accurate time to request specific help that you know will get you out of the pain you are enduring. And goodness, in no way do I want to argue that my life is, like, painful. I am so lucky to have the life I do. I am grossly privileged. But that does not help my retched mental state. Guilt awash with no motivation awash with disappointment awash with a caffeine headache…ok and more guilt.
Let this serve as an announcement to anyone embarking on a career that has forecasted abrupt shifts in your work. Let this serve as a serious warning to graduate students that after coursework things get a bit…weird.
I know that I, along with thousands of other graduate students, will figure this out. I will find new ways to motivate myself. But, from the looks of it, it will not be easy. I have to admit to myself that I am a kick ass graduate student some of the time. And now is just not one of those times.
You'll always be kick ass to me! It really is normal for you to feel this way--in fact, I feel a bit like this at the end of every academic year. Our work goes in such fits and starts that it can be difficult to self-motivate consistently. Best I've found is to schedule myself as much as possible. Happy to talk to you anytime, too!
ReplyDeleteCame across this via twitter (thanks Elana!) and just wanted to say thanks for the post. We as grad students (and academics of all levels, I suppose) are always in need of discussions like this that remind us our experiences are never in a vacuum and we're not alone.
ReplyDeleteI did my prelims last August; for me, it wasn't the summer schedule that got me, but rather the weirdness of returning to the fall semester as a "dissertator," on campus but not *in* coursework, instead tasked with this giant, nebulous project known as a dissertation. It took me several weeks to figure out how to schedule my days in the face of such flexibility. And to be honest, it's still something I struggle with a year later!
I'm not sure I have any advice, other than adjusting to/figuring out one's writing/research/thinking routine as an academic is always a work in progress. :)
p.s. good luck with prelims!
thanks for the comments! this post has spurred my cohort to sort of come out of the woodwork and say, "hey yeah this sucks," so it looks like peer-support is on the horizon!
ReplyDeleteehl: i shall be in touch! thanks for the kind words.