30 September, 2005 | Leave a Comment

So I am a student once again. Yesterday I paid my tuition and received my library card and attended a welcome reception where people were drinking alcohol and eating pretzels and pretending to have a good time, even though it was at the end of a very long day and we all just wanted to go home.

I have received three college degrees in the past ten years and each time – bedecked in cap and gown – I have vowed I will never return to school again. But this is absolutely the last time. As a PhD candidate, I am at the top of the academic heap. Where else can I go from here? [Well, I could be one of those people who has three PhDs and is unemployed and lives in an apartment full of cats and old newspapers, but I think not.]

People keep pointing out that the PhD years can be an extremely isolating and lonely time. I was feeling bummed about this and mentioned it in an e-mail to a friend. What she wrote back put everything into perspective for me:

“Rarely do we give ourselves permission to read book after book after book as part of our work. We tend — or at least I often do — to think that we are being leisurely when reading, like we’re treating our self to something secret and naughty when we should be doing the laundry or looking for a real job or trying to find a man or something. So it’s great that you have this tremendous opportunity to immerse yourself in literature and theory, without guilt because it is your job to do so. Oh the joy of it.”

Thanks, Anita!

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