The Story of my Exams

Just a little light medieval poetry beach reading during my cruise!

I met with my advisor two days before my PhD exams were to take place, and he said to me, "I don't know how you're doing it. When I took my exams, I didn't have kids, I had a lightened teaching load, I had nothing to do but read and read and read."

That is what most PhD candidates get. They get six months of really focused time. No distractions. All in on preparing for this most momentous rite of passage. They read and read and study and read and take notes and review notes and memorize facts and read some more, until they can't tell night from day and their heads are swimming in the haze of academic scholarly jargon.

But me? Well, yeah, first there's the fact that I have three kids who must be fed and washed and coddled and put to bed every single day. But that's just par for the course in this whole experience of me getting a PhD.

No, the real kicker was when they pushed my exam date back. I was supposed to take my exams in November, before Thanksgiving, but then there was a scheduling snafu and everything had to be pushed back, and the next available date for my exams was January 24th, one week into the new semester. We had not planned on this setback. We had not planned on this when we invited my entire family to stay with us for Christmas. We had not planned on this when we booked our Disney cruise for early January. And I had certainly not planned on this when I agreed to teach a double prep semester so I could design an entirely new dream course from scratch.

So yes, the month before I took my exams, when other PhD students would be reading for hours a day, I was cleaning my house and preparing for guests and cooking massive holiday meals and baking three cakes for the three separate birthdays and organizing a baptism program for my oldest son. I was traveling for New Years, and getting sick.

Three weeks before my exams, I was driving down to Florida with my family for a five day four night cruise to the Bahamas. Two weeks before my exams, I was getting home from said cruise and doing all the laundry and unpacking and desperately trying to throw together the syllabi for my two courses. One week before my exams, I was reading Plato (not part of my exam reading lists) and lesson prepping like mad for the first week of class. Three days before my exams, my husband left on a business trip.

I about flipped out on him when I found out about that trip. I told him, no. You are not allowed to go on a business trip during the most stressful week of my academic career. You are supposed to take one for the team, take over the cooking and bedtime routine so I can hole up in the office and just study. But of course, there's not much he could do to change the situation (he's at the mercy of his boss, after all), so as a compromise he called up his parents and dropped off the two little kids on his way out of town. But I still had the oldest one to get to and from school and cook for and figure out what to do with when Friday the 24th ended up being a snow day for him with the schools shut down. I was panicked my university would shut down too, and we'd have to delay my exams again, but thankfully they just opened campus a few hours late. So I brought my boy into campus with me, and he sat in my office watching movies for three hours while I sat my exams. It did nothing for my stress levels, but it could've been worse.

So yes, that's where I was when my advisor said, "I don't know how you're doing it." I didn't know how I was doing it either, and honestly, I wasn't sure I was doing it. I was not at all sure I was going to pass my exams.

I mean, I'd done a lot of reading. I'd had my lists put together since last June, and I'd been reading ever since then. But that was part of the problem. I'd read some of the pieces so long ago that I couldn't actually remember them. I sat in my office the day before my exams looking over the hundred plus items on my list, and some of the titles looked completely foreign. Nothing but a blank. I couldn't remember a single thing about them. Looking through my notes, I saw that I had read them, but some times my notes weren't extremely thorough (it's so hard to know whats going to be important to know), and I wondered if there was any way I could re-read Shakespeare's entire canon in 24 hours, along with all the scholarship on him.

I was panicked. I simply had not had the time. I had not been able to focus for the past month, I had not been able to put in the work I needed to, and I'd forgotten everything. I had been pulled in too many directions, and I just knew that compared to every other grad student in my program, I was going to come up short. There was no way I could compete.

I did not sleep well that night. I lay in bed thinking over titles and scholarly articles and character names and couldn't shut my brain down. I was also stressed about the weather, and kept obsessively checking my weather app and email throughout the night to see just how much snow was falling and whether the schools were going to shut down.

Finally, about 5:00 AM, I gave up, and rolled out of bed, and fell to my knees. I prayed. I poured my soul out to God, and I said, "It has not been enough. I have not had enough time, I have not had enough energy, and I am not prepared the way I need to be. But I promise you that I have done absolutely everything I could. I have tried my hardest, I have worked my hardest. I have taken care of my family first, but I have also done everything I could to prepare for these exams. I did not want this. I did not want a PhD. I did not want to leave my children. I have done this because I felt it was a command from you, Lord, and it has not been easy. It has been the hardest thing I've ever done."

And at this point in the prayer I just broke down sobbing. Because it has been so hard. I break a little inside every day when I drop my daughter off at daycare and she has to be pried off me crying and screaming by her teacher (every. single. day). I break a little when I miss every volunteer opportunity at my son's school because I'm working. I break a little at the panic every time a child gets sick and I have to figure out how to be in two places at once. I break a little every time I snap at my children to get to bed already because I have hours of work ahead of me every night. I break every single day. It has been so hard. It has been a sacrifice, one that I would not have the strength to keep doing if I was not 100% sure that God wanted me to do this. Most of the time I focus on the positive. I focus on the privilege it is for me to be doing this, on the joy I get out of teaching and doing the research (and I really get a lot of joy out of this). But that morning, on my knees alone before my God, I sobbed for the hard parts. For the parts I did not ask to take on.

After probably a good ten minutes of ugly crying, I finally pulled myself together enough to finish my prayer, "I consecrate my efforts to you, Lord. I know that what I have done is not enough, but it is all I have to offer. If my offering is acceptable, if you truly wish me to get a PhD, then I demand my right to the companionship of the Holy Ghost today. I demand your divine help to get through this." Perhaps my language was not the most respectful. Perhaps it is not advisable to make demands of a Supreme Being. But, I will say that I was immediately blessed with peace. My panic and anxiety simply melted away. This was, and has always been, the Lord's PhD, not mine. It was in his hands, whether I was going to pass or fail, and I let the burden of it go.

I got up, went through my morning routine, got my son packed up and ready to go, and drove through a beautiful snowy landscape to campus. I felt like even the snow was a blessing, a peace offering, the gift of a beautiful, calm, serene landscape designed singularly for my pleasure at this moment. God saying he loved me.

I got to campus, got my son settled with the ipad and his movies, and went upstairs to the conference room where my exams were being held. I sat down in the big chair at the head of the table, greeted the five faculty members of my committee, and the questions began.

The only way I can describe the next three hours is to say that they were delightful. Even fun. I actually wondered at one point if my committee was purposefully trying to make this easy, because it was just three hours of fascinating back and forth conversation about the most interesting aspects of my research with these incredibly intelligent people. At moments the conversation was so engaging that I even forgot it was an exam. It just felt like fun. At the end of three hours, I was even a little bit sad it was over, because we hadn't been able to talk about everything! There was so much more to discuss! But the end had come, and they sent me out of the room while they deliberated on my performance. A few minutes later, my advisor came out to call me back in the room, and was the first to congratulate me on passing my exam.

But it got even more amazing than that. As they went around the room congratulating me, the members of my committee repeatedly volunteered comments like:

"If we were allowed to give honors, you would've passed with honors."

"This was the best exam I've sat for at least ten years, maybe more!"

"You were impressive, so impressive! So calm and poised, and you just knew everything!"

(Even now, weeks later, I still get compliments whenever I see any of my committee, about how impressive my exam performance was.)

I smiled and took their compliments in stride. I didn't know how to tell them it wasn't me. Honor and praise to the Lord my God, who for some unexplained reason has chosen to work through me, magnify me, for some purpose I do not understand.

There was a whirlwind of activity after the exams finished: lots of congratulations from interested parties, gathering my son and his belongings, driving out to Missouri to pick up my younger two kids, meeting up with my husband who came home early from his work trip with the flu (we were supposed to go out to dinner to celebrate, instead we just went home and I made soup), putting everyone to bed, but finally the house was quiet again, and I had the opportunity to finally kneel again. To pour out a prayer of gratitude.

I still do not understand why I have been called to get a PhD. I do not comprehend the purpose. I don't see a path after graduation. All I know is that I have never received more clear revelation in my life, and it has been reaffirmed over and over and over again. This PhD is the Lord's work.

Have you ever felt the Lord working through you to achieve some greater end?

Usually, when you hear stories about it, the Lord's work is fairly obvious. The stories are about blessing lives, healing bodies or souls, growing the church, missionary work... something that makes sense in the context of the Lord's work.

I have no idea how a PhD in English is serving the Lord's work. It makes zero sense to me. It is entirely possible that it is a work of personal growth and fulfillment, simply meant for me. But even if that is all it is, I still feel the greatness of the work. I feel the guidance of his hand, the brilliant ideas when I need them, and the constant spiritual pressure of "Yes, yes, this is important!"

It is humbling. It is almost strange. But it is an absolute privilege to live a life consecrated to the Lord's work, to feel his hand guide my life, to feel Him carry me through such moments.

I am eternally grateful for the privilege of seeing such miracles in my life, even if I don't understand why. Even if it is hard.

Magic Words, Magic Books, Magic Language

In my English department, graduate students who have completed at least two years of coursework are allowed to apply to design and teach their own 200 level course on any sort of literary topic they desire. A little over a year ago, after reading A Wizard of Earthsea, I got this idea for a possible course topic that got me really excited. When I finished up my coursework last spring, I was eligible to apply, so I wrote up a course proposal, submitted it, and got accepted to teach my own English 203 course this semester.

With my exams being scheduled for the first week of the semester, the timing for designing a completely new course from scratch was a little crazy, but everything else about teaching this new class has been AMAZING! As in, this is seriously so far the best teaching experience I've ever had in my life. Every single class session has just been incredibly interesting discussion about really fascinating topics, with students who are interesting and enthusiastic and willing to engage (not my usual experience with freshman writing classes). And I suspect that many of my readers here would be just as interested by the ideas and discussions we're having in my class, so a few months ago I decided I would post the syllabus here and invite you all to join in on my reading assignments (if you wish). Even if you don't join with the reading, I want a place to sort of organize and record my lecture notes and ideas that come out of class discussion, so every week or so (really probably every other week if I'm lucky), I'll try to post some of the more exciting ideas and questions to come out of our class. I'm hoping you, my dear readers, will enjoy this peek into my college classroom.

My original plan was to get these posts going from the beginning of the semester, but here we are four weeks in (I blame exams, then catching the flu). So I'll be trying to play a little catch up. But for now, here is the course description and reading syllabus using my actual course dates (the class meets Tuesdays and Thursdays). I've provided links where I can to texts.

Course Title: English 203: Magic Words, Magic Books, Magic Language

Course Description: This course will explore the relationship between magic and language. Magic (the power to exert one's will upon humans and nature outside of natural laws) has always had a deeply interconnected relationship with language. Witches recite incantations and cast "spells." Runes written over ancient tombs both warn of and enact curses. Spirits and daemons can be called if one knows their "true names." Magic books, spell books, and grimoires become objects of power simply by virtue of having magic words written in them.

But in reality, there is nothing inherently "magical" about language. Words, spoken or written, are truly nothing more than puffs of air or lines of ink on paper, and yet in our magic stories language consistently has the power not just to facilitate human social communication, but to command the very cosmos. Why do our stories give language the power to enact magic? This is the question we will seek to answer as we read various texts across time and genres. This class will be divided into three units, each focusing on a different aspect of this relationship. Unit 1 will explore the idea of magic names and spoken words. Unit 2 will look at the power of writing and symbols. And Unit 3 will explore magic books and grimoires.

Reading Assignment Schedule:

Unit 1: Magic Names and Spoken Words

T 1/21 - Course Introduction

Th 1/23 - Cratylus by Plato; A Course in General Linguistics "Part 1 General Principles: Chapter 1" by Ferdinand de Saussure

T 1/21 - How To Do Things With Words "Lecture 1" by J. L. Austin; Genesis Chapter 1 from the Bible

Th 1/30 - A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. LeGuin Chapters 1-2

T 2/4 - A Wizard of Earthsea Chapters 3-5

Th 2/6 - A Wizard of Earthsea Chapter 6; Name Essay Assignment Sheet

T 2/11 - A Wizard of Earthsea Chapter 7-9

Th 2/13 - A Wizard of Earthsea Chapter 10

T 2/18 - Draft of Name Essay due; Peer Review

Th 2/20 - Final Drafts of Name Essay due; Unit 1 Reflection

Unit 2: Magic Writing and Symbols

T 2/25 - Gutenberg's Galaxy excerpt by Marshall McLuhan; Orality and Literacy excerpts by Walter Ong

Th 2/27 - "The Call of Cthulhu" by H.P. Lovecraft, first half; Short Paper Assignment Sheet

T 3/3 - "The Call of Cthulhu" second half

Th 3/5 - How to write a literary analysis

T 3/10 - Spring Break

Th 3/10 - Spring Break

T 3/17 - The Emperor's Soul by Brandon Sanderson, first half

Th 3/19 - The Emperor's Soul second half

T 3/24 - Draft of Short Paper due; Peer Review

Th 3/26 - Final Drafts of Short Paper due; Unit 2 Reflection

Unit 3; Magic Books

T 3/31 - Doctor Faustus Act 1 by Christopher Marlowe (A Text); Final Project Assignment Sheet

Th 4/2 - Doctor Faustus Act 2

T 4/7 - Doctor Faustus Act 3-4

Th 4/9 - Doctor Faustus Act 5

T 4/14 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Chapters 1-6 by J.K. Rowling

Th 4/16 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Chapters 7-8

T 4/21 - Conferences

Th 4/30 - Conferences

T 4/28 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Chapter 9-15

Th 4/30 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Chapters 16-18

T 5/5 - Presentations

Th 5/7 - Presentations

Okay, there it is! So, what do you think? Does this look like a fun class? I promise, even if you're not that into fantasy, if you like words and language, you will most likely be very interested in the discussions from this class. I'm really excited to share a bit more about this here!

You Can See it in Their Eyes

We were standing in the church hallway with our squirming and screaming babies when the bishop's wife walked by. This woman, the bishop's wife, is one of those people you can't help loving. She's just so full of light and joy and infectious love. She is one of the kindest people I know.

Which is why I know she wasn't trying to hurt me. She wasn't trying to wound anyone. She was merely trying to be encouraging when she stopped, and in her effusive and loving enthusiasm gave both me and my friend a hug and said, "You young mothers are doing such great work here! You are doing the truly important work! It may feel hard now, but the love you're giving your babies now, the time, the sacrifice, it will stay with them forever! I know! When I go to the high school, and I look at all those grown up kids, you can tell the difference between those kids raised by good mothers, and those raised in daycare. You can see it in their eyes!"

She hurried on to her Sunday school class or wherever she was going, probably never giving a second thought to her comment or that small moment in the hallway.

But I think about that moment often. Her words echo in my mind almost every day. "You can tell the difference between those kids raised by good mothers, and those raised in daycare. You can see it in their eyes."

My kids will be starting daycare next week.

To say I have conflicted feelings about this is a massive understatement. Because, you see, if you had asked me just a few years ago, I would've agreed 100% with my bishop's wife. Not that I ever would've said it out loud like her, but I totally felt that way. I felt that really good mothers stayed home with their kids. Really good mothers did not pass off the responsibility of caring for and raising their children to someone else.

I had a hard enough time coming to terms with the situation when we hired our first nanny. Not only did it feel strangely privileged and extravagant (I did not grow up in a world where anyone had a nanny), I struggled with the idea of giving up my responsibility to raise my children, even if only for a few hours a week. But at least, at the very least, it was still one person in our home, keeping my children in the routines I set, with the toys and activities I provided for them, giving them the individual attention they needed. If I couldn't be there myself, a nanny felt like the next best thing.

But daycare? The image of daycare in my mind was one of flickering fluorescent lights over threadbare dingy carpets illuminating a sad and stringy selection of secondhand toys, with a bunch of kids crying in soiled diapers while frazzled and overworked care providers tried to keep too much snot from spreading around. Daycare, in my mind, was neither happy nor loving, the opposite of the kind of environment I wanted for my children. That person I was long before I married or had kids would never, never in a million years, have imagined daycare as an option for my children, my future precious babies.

Funny how life turns out. Because like I mentioned earlier, my kids are starting daycare next week.

So, how did we get here?

Well, the decision process was long and winding. We had a wonderful nanny this past year that I was so grateful for. Having a nanny in my home solved a lot of headaches (like what to do when my oldest was sick and needed to stay home from school), but created other headaches (what to do when she gets sick and can't work?). Plus, there was the conundrum of what to do with our middle child, who really ought to be attending preschool (alas, the wonderful days of Joy School co-ops are behind me). So we started looking into the daycare option provided on my university campus, and it looked good. Really good actually. After visiting and getting a tour, I was very impressed. They have an incredible staff-to-student ratio, three separate playgrounds, a garden that provides produce for the meals (lunch and snacks) prepared on site for the kids, and a fleet of vans and carseats for quarterly field trips. They had a sparkling accredited curriculum, and a shiny beautiful facility. It was not the dismal daycare center of my imagination. Plus, it was on campus. I could bring my kids to school with me, drop them off, then walk over to my building just a few minutes away. I could come eat lunch with them, or check on them whenever I wanted. It sounded perfect.

So we applied, and got accepted, and put down the deposit, and started making all the other arrangements. I would have a wonderful, reliable daycare option for my younger two children (the oldest one will be in full day school).

But then, the memory of my bishop's wife surfaced, and started haunting me daily. "You can see it in their eyes." You can see it in their eyes.

What can you see in their eyes? Neglect? A lack of love? A lack of connection? Is that what is destined for my children, now that they will be attending daycare? Does it mean I love them less? That I am less devoted, less involved, less of a mother?

I know there are many women out there who are rolling their eyes at my concerns. Of course it doesn't mean I love them less! Of course my kids will be just fine!

But I know some of you will understand why I feel so conflicted about this. These are my children, the single most important responsibility in my life. Nothing is more important, not a job, not a degree, nothing is more important than making sure they are well cared for and all their needs, physical and emotional, are being met. So, when I fully believe that, why am I doing this? Why am I sending my kids to daycare?

Honestly, my only answer is that I sincerely believe God wants me to. I don't think I could do this any other way, and I question Him over and over again, because it feels counter to everything my culture has taught me to believe about what He wants. But this I know: when I pray, I know that I am supposed to be getting this degree. And when I pray about my children, I know that God is taking care of them.

When my baby started nursery at the end of June, and screamed for forty minutes straight before the desperate nursery leaders finally found my husband, I came home from church, knelt, and prayed, "If she can't handle two hours of nursery, how is she going to handle a full day of daycare? Are you sure this is right?" And the answer I got was, "She'll be fine. I'll look after her, for remember, she's my child too."

When I found out about the daycare's policy that absolutely zero super hero paraphernalia is allowed, and my sweet boy who has worn his Catboy cape and mask day and night since March would not be allowed to wear it at school, I came home and prayed again, "But he loves that outfit! And if I were a stay-at-home mom, he could wear it as much as he wants! It's his security blanket against all his anxieties! Are yous sure this is right?" And the answer I got was, "He'll be fine. I'll look after him, for remember, he's my child too."

They'll be fine. They'll be fine.

They will know that I love them. They will know I am not abandoning them. They will not lose the light in their eyes.

And so, I write this, partly to justify my decisions to those of my culture who I know will question me, and partly to say that I now believe differently. I believe I can love and care for my children just as much as ever, and also let someone else watch them for a good chunk of their waking hours. I believe I am still a good mother. I believe my children will still know they are loved and cared for even if they will grow up in daycare. I believe it is all about perception, and my perception has changed.

My children will be raised by a good mother, a mother who has made many sacrifices. And you will be able to see it in their eyes.

On Priorities, Time, and My Best Work: A Motivational/Business Psychology Reading Spree

One of my classes earlier this semester hosted a panel of professors that were invited to come talk to us (all graduate students) about what it was like to pursue tenure track as a career. During the Q&A, another student asked the panel about their work/life balance, and all of them laughed as if such an idea were hilariously ludicrous. Then one of the female professors proceeded to share how she had never attended a single one of her children's soccer games (presumably because she's too busy on Saturday mornings?), and shared what she evidently thought was a hilarious anecdote about when her five-year-old daughter asked if they could occasionally, like maybe once a month or so, eat a home-cooked meal. She shared this story with evident pride, as if to say "Yes, I have put my career above my family, but this is what success in this career looks like!"

I was suuuuuuper annoyed with this professor's response. I wanted to raise my hand and refute the message she was sending, that her career is so demanding and her life so busy that she had to sacrifice things like family dinner and attending her children's games. I wanted to say, to her but especially to the other student who had asked the question in the first place, that work/life balance is all about priorities and choices.

I know this from personal experience (more about that in a minute), but I'm also backed up by all the reading I've been doing recently on topics like work, motivation, and success. In the past month or so, I've read five books that have all talked about some aspect of "success," what it looks like, how to define it, and how to achieve it. There are plenty more out there on this topic, but the books I've read recently were Deep Work by Cal Newport, Originals by Adam Grant, Grit by Angela Duckworth, Multipliers by Liz Wiseman, and Essentialism by Greg McKeown (for short summaries, see my last two monthly round-up posts here and here). While all of these books have there own (sometimes widely different) focus and message, there were a few common themes and takeaways that I found repeated throughout them.

The biggest takeaway for me is that work, and especially good, deep, interesting, and successful work, does not have to consume life. In fact, much of the reading talked about studies that confirm people are usually "busy" doing things that don't actually matter, and if we could strip away all the unnecessary stuff, and learn how to do just the essential, deep work in an efficient manner, then we could accomplish twice as much in less time, opening up the rest of our lives for relationships and rest and things that make life worth living. In one way or another, all of these books talked about figuring out what is most essentially important in life, what our core goals are, and then letting everything else go so we can just focus on those goals and use the time we have in the best way possible.

I've been fascinated and encouraged by these ideas, because I think by anyone's standards, my life is "busy," but that doesn't mean I don't have time for the things that mater most. For better or for worse, this is the path my life is on for the next five years or so (and potentially beyond, who knows what the future brings). I am a working mother, this is my reality. And because this is my life right now, because I am teaching two courses a semester and taking classes and working toward a PhD while raising three rather young children on less sleep than I'd like, I need to figure out how to make this work. I need to figure out how to live a life that is busy but is not frantic and survival mode all the time. I need to figure out how to thrive.

So I've been thinking about what my core, essential priorities are, and what else I can strip away. And here's what I've decided. My family is first, always and forever. What this looks like for me is family time. Family dinner that I've cooked every day is a priority (and unlike that professor, I've managed to cook dinner for my family nearly every day since starting school last August). Play time with my children is a priority. FHE is a priority. Date night (mostly at-home date night, but whatever) is a priority. Story time at bedtime is a priority. Violin practice is a priority. Family movie night is a priority. These things happen, and 95% of the time I am there for it.

But school is also a priority. I'm a bit afraid to call it a career, because I still have no idea if this PhD thing is going to lead anywhere, but at least for now, I'm allowing myself to lean in as if my end goal is a career (why go to all this trouble if not to treat it like it's leading somewhere?). One of the things most of these people wrote about is the importance of finding meaning and passion in your work for it to be worthwhile, and that gave me a little pause. I've admitted before that I don't find much greater purpose in academia. I mean, what good does it do the world to study reader marginalia notes in early printed play texts? These feelings are why I never would have pursued academia as a career if left to my own devices, but do you know what does give me purpose? The unshakable faith that this path is my calling in life. For whatever reason, God wants me to get a PhD, and I know this almost more certainly than I've ever known anything. So school gets to be a priority. What does that look like? It means that when I have childcare time to do schoolwork, I dive deep. I get my homework and lesson planning done, but then spend extra time doing research for the sake of research. I write conference abstracts and apply for funding. I try to get something published. I'm committed, 100%.

But other things are a priority too. This is my life, and so sleep is a priority. I go to bed at 10, and get up at 5:30, and sleep in on the weekends. Health and exercise are a priority. I do yoga in the mornings, I eat vegetables for every meal. Friendship is a priority, so I go to book club. My spiritual life is a priority, so I read my scriptures, and meditate, and write in my journal, and prepare my lessons for Sunday, and go to the temple. Pleasure reading is a priority, so I listen to audio books when I can. Pleasure writing is a priority, so I write here when I can.

But do you know what is not a priority? What is not taking up my time these days? Television. A clean house (although this one makes me sad). Social media. Play dates with other moms (although this one also makes me sad, maybe this summer?). Attending all the interesting guest lectures on campus. Serving on the PTO at my son's school. Grocery shopping (my husband now does 100% of the grocery shopping, although I make the lists). And probably a million other things that would be so fun, or fulfilling, or good uses of time. They just aren't essential right now.

I still have my issues, my pinch points, and my things that are out of balance. I need to find time to get my hair cut, go to the dentist, fold the laundry, and a thousand other small things that I still consider "necessary" but that I haven't made the time for. But I firmly, firmly believe that my life is better for having had to make these decisions about my priorities.

And I also firmly believe that if that professor at my school had different priorities, she could have made it to every single one of her children's soccer games, and still been at this same point in her career. I am learning this about the work I have to do, as I compare myself to the grad students and professors around me. Work expands to take up the time you allot for it. My childless peers spend eight hours a day in their offices, work nights and weekends too, and tell me how frantic and busy they feel. I spend two hours a day in my office two days a week, and work after my children go to bed at night, and yet I get the same homework load done, teach the same number of lessons, write the same number of papers. In fact, I think my work is better for being condensed. I must work more efficiently, but I have learned to work better because of it.

All of these thoughts and experiences I've had with my work and defining my priorities over these past few months have made me view my husband's work differently. He spends eight hours at work every day, regardless of whether he actually has work to fill up those eight hours. His job is a little bit famine or feast: some times he has more work than he can handle, other times the projects are a little more scarce. But regardless of how busy he is, he's expected to be in his office eight hours a day for the sake of "face time" and looking busy. Regardless of how hard he's worked during those eight hours, he's expected to be on call all night long (and all weekend too), checking his email incessantly just in case something comes in. And even though in his line of work absolutely no one will die if those contracts aren't reviewed until Monday, he's expected to work all weekend just to keep everyone happy. In his culture of billable hours, efficient work is not rewarded. In fact, the longer it takes you to do a task, the more busy and "productive" you look. It's a ridiculous culture that I have many frustrations with (as does he).

But like I said, January is a notoriously slow month for him. As I've compared our work loads recently, it's been especially frustrating. He still goes to work for eight hours every day, but spends much of his time working on personal things. He finished our 2018 budget, worked on our taxes, and researched some home renovation projects. He took two afternoons off to go to the dentist (cavity). These things are all fine and good, but he also spends a lot of time checking pointless email, scrolling the internet, just filling his time up.

There have been days when I won't deny that I've been jealous of his time. Why does he get the luxury of eight child-free hours to essentially scroll Facebook? Why must I be the one trying to cram eight hours worth of work into two? Why am I the one feeling pressure to hurry through my homework and lesson planning so I can rush home to be with the kids, while he feels no such pressure to be home despite having far less work than me right now?

But after reflecting on what I've been reading, I've come to the conclusion that I do not so much wish I had my husband's time, as I wish he had mine. I do not wish for eight child-free hours, I'd miss my kids too much! I do not wish to spend eight hours on my work when I've been able to get it done in two. Why would I want to spend a single minute longer than is necessary on my work? And would I be working at the depth and level I'm working at if my time crunch didn't demand such complete and utter focus? I would rather be forced to get my work done as efficiently as possible, so that I can spend the rest of my time building Legos on the floor with my boys (while trying to keep them out of the mouth of my baby girl). I wish it were acceptable for my husband to spend his time like mine, to work efficiently when he has work, and to spend the rest of his time at home on his other priorities not worrying about "face time" or whatnot. But that is not the culture of his work place, or our society at large. For most, the longer hours you spend at work, the busier you look, the more successful you must be.

I do not believe this to be true at all.

Other take-aways I've had from this motivational/self-help reading spree:

-Business books are repetitive. Not just in themselves (though some of them are that), but between them. The same studies kept getting mentioned over and over and over. Honestly, I don't ever need to read Carol Dweck's Mindset because I've already read so much about her theories of growth mindsets vs. fixed mindsets. The other studies that kept coming up? Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's work on flow was mentioned in almost every single book (although, I've got to give a plug here for Grit, because Duckworth's discussion of how "flow" works with the concepts challenging practice in learning a new skill was the most interesting and insightful discussion on the topic). There was also some study about dogs getting shocked that got mentioned a couple times (something related to the concept of fixed mindsets, and how we lose hope when we don't think we can change our circumstances). I found the repetition to be more interesting than annoying, actually, because it felt like seeing a larger pattern and identifying what ideas are resonating right now.

-I came away from all this reading feeling really positive about corporate America. This is very different than the feeling I get from my reading in the Humanities department, where everyone is a liberal or socialist, and capitalism is the greatest evil of all time (I once mentioned to a class mate that my husband was a corporate lawyer, and he visibly shuddered and said, "Wow, so, basically he's the devil incarnate," ...). Anyway, all of these books made me feel like it could actually be extremely personally rewarding to have an executive corporate job. All the motivational jargon just made it seem like you can find your best selves in these jobs and really become a dynamic and innovative leader who can change the world. Go team corporate capitalism!

-Mormons rule in business. So, I didn't realize that the last two books I read were written by Mormons (Liz Wiseman and Greg McKeown) until after I'd read them and looked up the author bios, but I think Mormons were quoted or mentioned in every book I read but one (Mitt Romney, Steve Young, Clayton Christensen, and others all got shout outs). So go Mormons!

Okay, so now I'm kind of burned out on this genre, but I still feel all sorts of motivated to conquer the world and live my best life and do my best, most creative, deepest and most efficient work. I honestly recommend all of these books, for different reasons, but if you don't want to read all of them then I think Deep Work and Essentialism would be my two top picks for general readers (followed by Originals, if you like pop psychology Malcolm Gladwell stuff). I have lots more thoughts about all of these books (especially Deep Work), so I may write more about this stuff in the future. But enough for now. Have you read any of these? What are your thoughts?

Permission to Want It

I am a mother of three young children, a wife, a homemaker. And in my spare time, I'm getting a PhD in English.

I've had such complicated feelings about this PhD. It was not part of my original life plan. It was never a goal. It was not something I wanted.

I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I wanted to be the good little Mormon housewife. I was content with that life, and getting this PhD feels like telling the world I wasn't content with that life. That I wanted more, that I have goals and ambitions for a career outside the home. Which is why, to other Mormons, I'm always so quick to explain, "This is revelation! God basically told me to do this! I don't know why, please don't judge!"

The whole lead-up to this program has been so emotionally fraught for me, so full of second-guessing, and so much anxiety. Mostly, anxiety about child-care. So many nights I've woken up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep over the anxiety of child-care. We struggled to find a nanny, a child-care facility, a situation that felt good to us. I laid awake in bed those nights praying and pleading with the Lord: Please, help us find someone good! Help us find someone who will love and care for my children the way I love and care for them! And tell me again why it won't be me? Why can't I just stay home with my kids? Why is this so hard?

The answers didn't come immediately, but they came firmly and unmistakably, the way all the answers have seemed to come through this whole miraculous process of having the Lord turn my life around. I felt the words, "I have prepared angels to take care of your children. Please stop worrying."

But I couldn't stop worrying. It took weeks of struggle and stress, and even when we finally found a nanny I was comfortable with, even after she visited our home and showered love on my children and expressed enthusiasm and gratitude for the job, I still couldn't stop worrying. What if she quits? What if someone gets sick? What if the baby won't nap for her? What if? What if? What if?

I'm missing my son's first day of kindergarten. His father will be able to take him to school that day, and his grandmother will be there to pick him up at the end, but I will be thirty miles away attending my third day of mandatory orientation, and when I realized this is where I would be on my first child's first day of school, I nearly cried. I wanted to drop out right there. No PhD, no anything, is worth not being there on the biggest moment of my child's life to this point. He knows I won't be there, and he keeps asking who will be there. Who will be there to pick him up? Who will be there to help him find his classroom? Someone will be, but it won't be me.

It should be me.

Will I ever live the guilt of this down?

I have been so distracted by the logistics, so consumed by the worry and the anxiety and the stress and the guilt, that I haven't actually done that much thinking about school itself. I will be teaching this time, two sections of freshman writing. Finally, this past week, when I realized it would be catastrophic to put it off any longer, I started preparing for class.

And...

I got excited. I got interested. I forgot how much I love teaching. I forgot how much I enjoy this subject I'm studying. I forgot that there is something about this whole academia world that brings me a lot of satisfaction. I've been so focused on letting people know that I did not choose this path, so focused on stressing about how hard this is to figure out, how crazy it is to be a mother of three and go to school, so conflicted about asking someone else to watch/love/raise my children for thirty hours a week(!), that I forgot to actually want it.

As I prayed that night, the spirit filled me with these words again, "I have prepared angels to watch over your children. Do not worry about them. I will take care of them, for they are mine. But you are mine too. You are my child too, and I have given you gifts and opportunities, and I need you to make use of your gifts. You have my permission to enjoy this. You have my permission to want this."

I think this time I will listen. I am still working on letting go of the worry. I'm still snuggling my baby a little bit extra, still relishing in the last slow moments home with the boys, still anxious about meeting all their needs. I'm still full of confusion about why this is my life path, still so full of conflicting emotions.

But I'm also excited. And I'm giving myself permission to enjoy it.

To want a PhD.

My Career Path (Part 2): Divine Intervention

If you didn't read my last post (Part 1), I recommend you read that first, or parts of this one might not make much sense.

Photo Cred: Josh age 4.5

Besides English teacher, the one other career I briefly considered as a teenager was "writer." After all, I really, really, really enjoyed writing (filled up all sorts of notebooks with my stories and poems and essays, I'm sure it was all just amazing stuff that really deserves to be published... *cough, cough*). But I was far too practical and sensible a person to actually seriously entertain this as a possible career. Because, I mean, what's the career path? How do you "become" a writer? It's not exactly something you can plan: First, I will go to school and get my degree in English, then I will write the next Great American Novel, then I will get paid enough to support myself... yeah, it doesn't work that way. Life is unpredictable, and I wanted to make sure I had some marketable skill that could earn a decently stable income to support myself (I should note, high school Suzanne did NOT expect to get married at the tender age of 21). So "writer" was out (but it does make a fabulous hobby, and I'm not opposed to turning this into a marketable skill that gets financial compensation some day... I'm just never going to rely on it for my bread and butter).

But do you want to know what other career path I rejected as a high-schooler? Academia.

My Career Path (Part 1): Unexpected Turns and Surprise Satisfaction

Photo Cred: Josh age 4.5

Do you remember those career aptitude tests they used to make you take in high school? The ones that were supposed to gauge your interests and personality and skills and help guide you into a career that would be a good fit? I remember getting wildly different results on every test I took. One told me I would make a good clergyman (um, okay), and another told me I should try anthropology (I had no clue what that meant in high school).

But I didn't care what any of those tests told me. I knew exactly what I wanted from my life's work, and I knew what career was going to give that to me. First, I knew I wanted a job that had to do with reading and writing. Second, I knew I wanted a job that needed creativity, that would be interesting and engaging and allow the chance for growth and new changes. And finally (and perhaps most importantly), I wanted a career that was meaningful. I wanted to help other people, make an impact, serve in some way that benefited the world around me.

So logically, there was only one option. I was going to be an English teacher.

A Student Mom: I Don't Know How You Did It

With all the congratulations I've been getting from people over my recent graduation, I've been hearing this a lot lately:

"I don't know how you did it, what with raising your two little boys and going to school full time! It must have been so hard! You are amazing!"

One of the hopes I had with chronicling my adventures as a student mom here on the blog was to show just "how I did it," and hopefully let other mothers (or women in general) who are interested in grad school see how it could be possible for them too. What I've hoped to communicate is that with developing the right skill set (prioritizing, time management, efficiency), any woman can be there nearly full time for her small children, get dinner on the table every night, and earn a graduate degree on the side. There is time in the world for all of these things.

However...

There is a however. As I've been reflecting on just "how I did it," I feel the need to acknowledge that yes, there were some very special circumstances and privileges I enjoyed that made this whole motherhood/graduate school thing not only possible, but a whole lot easier for me than it would be for someone else. Here is an incomplete list of those special circumstances.

A Student Mom: A Day in the Life

I love reading "Day in the Life" posts from other people. I always find it fascinating to see how other people structure their time, what they choose to fit in when, and how they do it. Especially mothers. I'm always so curious about how they handle naptimes and bedtimes and mealtimes. Every time I read a "Day in the Life" type of post from another blogger, I usually always come away with an, "Oh, yeah, that makes sense, I should do something like that with my schedule" kind of moment.

But I've never wanted to do a day in the life post for myself because, I mean, who cares about my little life, right? I'm certainly no expert on time management or routines or motherhood schedules or anything like that. It feels a tiny bit presumptuous to assume any of my readers would be interested in a blow by blow account of a typical day.

But then, when I was reading up about the benefits of time logs, I had a thought that, you know what? As a mom and a grad student, I actually do have kind of an interesting schedule, and maybe someone out there would be interested to see how I manage kids and school on a typical day. Maybe it would help some other mom considering grad school visualize how it can be done. So I decided to pick some normal school day and track my time and do a Day in the Life post. Maybe someone will find this interesting, if not useful.

Also, as soon as you decide you want to track a "typical" day, it turns into a not typical day very quickly. I kept waiting so long for that typical school day that I found myself at the end of the semester, so this is what happened last Thursday on my very last day of class. It wasn't necessarily a "typical," but it was close enough. And this is probably way more detail than you want, but I can't help myself.

3:30 AM - Henry, our 7 month old baby, wakes up crying. I consider letting him cry it out, since he typically sleeps through the night and has been for months, but he's getting over an ear infection, so I take pity on him and nurse him back to sleep. Also, I turn off the alarm set for 6:30, because that wake-up time is not happening after this interruption.

7:20 AM - Josh, the 3-year-old wanders into our room. I wake my husband up and make him go do breakfast with Josh.

7:40 AM - Henry is awake again (he sleeps in our closet). I try nursing him again, but after his early morning feast he's not very interested, so I change his diaper and give him his morning dose of medicine (for the ear infection).

7:50 AM - Breakfast time for me! Oatmeal with honey, and a little blog roll reading while I eat.

8:10 AM - After doing the breakfast dishes, I slip in a yoga DVD and begin my morning sun salutations.

8:30 AM - Don't get through the whole workout because Henry is finally hungry, so I nurse him down for his morning nap. Hubby leaves for work at some point. As soon as I get the baby down, I quickly monitor Josh's morning chore chart (make bed, clear breakfast dishes, get dressed, etc.), turn on a show for him (Curious George), and hop in the shower before our apartment complex shuts the water off at 9 AM (maintenance work or something).

9:00 AM - Run through my morning hair, make-up, make bed routine. Henry is crying in his crib and clearly not interested in a morning nap after sleeping in so late.

9:30 AM - Get shoes on everybody, assemble Josh's back pack and my diaper bag, change a poopy diaper.

9:40 AM - Out the door on our way to preschool.

10:00 AM - Drop Josh off at preschool (co-op with some other moms in the area), chat with the other moms for a few minutes.

10:10 AM - Time to run some errands. Hit up an ATM to get cash, then head to Target to grab a card and present for our nanny (since it's her last day with us until next fall).

11:00 AM - Home, put the grumpy baby down for another attempt at that morning nap, then start some dinner prep while listening to a podcast (peeling and cutting up sweet potato for a crock pot Sweet Potato Taco Goulash).

11:30 AM - Wake up poor Henry, hop back in the car to go pick up big brother.

11:45 AM - Preschool pickup, chat with other moms for a minute.

12:10 PM - Home again. Quickly pull together a peanut butter sandwich lunch for Josh, then nurse Henry.

12:30 PM - Henry down again to finish the rest of his interrupted nap. I jump back on dinner prep and throw everything in the crock pot.

12:45 PM - Finally, lunch time for me! I heat up some leftovers from the night before and enjoy some more light blog reading while I eat (Josh is playing in his room).

1:00 PM - Assemble the card and present for the nanny, pull my books together for school, print out a paper, tidy up a few things and get ready to leave.

1:20 PM - Henry's awake, and that baby is grumpy. Quick diaper change.

1:25 PM - Nanny arrives. I pass the grumpy baby off to her and try to get Josh settled for "quiet time" in his room. He demands I read Where the Wild Things Are, which I do as quickly as possible before rushing out the door.

1:30 PM - Queue up my audio book and head out for my 45 minute commute to campus (traffic is worse than usual today, for some reason).

2:15 PM - Find a parking spot, walk to my building, drop off a paper that's due for another class, then head to my classroom.

2:30 PM - Class starts. Because it's the last day, the professor brought treats! Wine (which I don't drink), juice (which I do drink), cookies and brownies. I give my presentation on The Grapes of Wrath, and we have a good class discussion on whether Steinbeck's portrayal of women and matriarchy is positive or repressive (I think it's positive, in case you were wondering).

4:45 PM - Class gets out early! (My classes are usually three-hour block classes from 2:30-5:30 T,W,TH). I check my phone on my way out and find out the family dog died. I call my brother in the parking lot to find out the details and share my condolences (the dog was technically his).

5:00 PM - Head home. Traffic is a bit worse than usual, but not out of the norm.

5:45 PM - I grab some gas at Costco since my tank is nearly empty.

6:10 PM - Home! I pull out the camera, take some pictures of the boys with the nanny, give her the card and present, shed a few tears (we really, really love our nanny), and say good-bye.

6:25 PM - Dish up dinner out of the crock pot, and grab a jar of baby food for Henry. Spoon feed him in between bites for myself.

6:45 PM - Bathtime for both boys. I pull Henry out first and let Josh stay in and play.

7:00 PM - Nurse Henry for the last time and put him down.

7:15 PM - Get Josh out of the tub and have a relatively smooth bed-time routine with him, brush teeth, potty, pajamas, two bed-time stories, scriptures, prayers, and then "cuddle-time" which usually involves singing a song together, but tonight he wants me to write out the numbers 0 through 100 on his magnetic writing board (my kid is weirdly obsessed with letters and numbers).

7:40 PM - Both boys are down! Change into PJ's myself and do the dinner dishes.

8:00 PM - Josh is crying. Apparently his favorite monkey blanket is missing, which could be grounds for a catastrophe. After looking everywhere for it, I offer him a different blanket, which he thankfully accepts (I find the monkey blanket out in the backyard the next morning).

8:15 PM - Finally settle down for a long evening of paper writing. Got my books, laptop, glass of water, and chocolate stash all set up. My goal is to get five pages written before I go to bed.

8:35 PM - Henry wakes up and starts crying. I don't have time to soothe him tonight, so I let him cry it out.

9:10 PM - Henry finally settles down and falls asleep on his own. Hallelujah.

9:30 PM - I take a break from writing to call home and check on my mom. She's pretty devastated about the dog, and I spend a few minutes comforting her while she cries. My husband finally gets home from work while I'm on the phone, and when I hang up we share a mint chocolate to commemorate the passing of that little dog.

9:50 PM - Back to work on my paper.

10:30 PM - Break to do my nightly pumping (this is how my baby eats while I'm in class). While I pump, I take an enneagram test for fun. Results are rather inconclusive.

10:50 PM - Back to work on my paper.

11:30 PM - Hit my five-page goal, save my work, and start my bed-time routine (wash face, brush teeth, personal scripture study/prayer).

12:00 AM - Hit the sack.

Just a few notes on the day:

-When Henry sleeps through the night, I usually wake up at 6:30 AM and do my personal scripture study then. It's a nice way to start the day, but if I have any interruptions during the night, I let myself sleep in.

-My husband is usually home earlier than 9:30, but rarely in time for dinner or bed-time routine, so all of that was pretty typical.

-I'm usually in bed earlier than midnight. This was just a crunch week since all of my papers were due Monday. On a typical night I wrap up homework around 10 PM and get to bed between 10:30 and 11:00 PM. It's really not all that bad.

-Crock pot meals have saved my life this semester. I think we had a crock pot dinner every single class day except for two. Easiest way to walk in the door and have dinner on the table in less than five minutes. I experimented with a lot of new recipes, some of which were complete disasters, but most of which we loved. Crock pot for the win.

Okay, so I know that was kind of detailed, but hopefully interesting to someone out there. It's a little bit crazy and busy some days, but I must say that it hasn't been as hard as I thought it would be to balance school and motherhood. Motherhood always comes first, and the rest just falls into place.

Also, if you have any further questions about any part of my day or routine, or how I make school and motherhood work, feel free to ask! I'm happy to share.

A Student Mom: Childcare

Yes, I'm a mom, and I'm going to grad school. I write on ongoing series of posts chronicling my experience as a student mom. If it interests you, find the rest of the posts here.

If you had told me ten years ago that someday I would hire a nanny to watch my kids, I would've laughed in your face.

Even if you had told me that five years ago, I still would've been skeptical.

First off, nannies were only for those super rich people, the ones who had summer houses in Europe and sent their kids to private boarding schools and that kind of thing. Sure, my husband makes a decent salary, but we are by no means wealthy (especially not with the depressing weight of student loans still hanging over our heads).

Second, I would've told you that I would never entrust the care and raising of my children to someone else. Weren't nannies for those bad moms who were too busy and too selfish to stay home with their kids?

Without doubt, childcare has been the most stressful, most gut-wrenching, and most guilt-ridden part of this whole experience of going back to grad school. There were so many days during my first semester, when my kid was sick or when the planned babysitter fell through last minute, when I thought to myself, "Oh yeah, this is why young mothers don't do grad school."

For my first semester last year, we used a network of friends and family for babysitting. I have a good friend who lives in our same apartment complex that took my kid two afternoons a week, and then I would drop him off at my sister-in-law's house for my evening class another day. It was stressful to manage the pick-up and drop-off, but I was happy knowing these were friends and family my son was comfortable with and who would care for him like their own children (plus, we couldn't beat the price of the friends and family discount :).

But my sister-in-law moved out of state over the summer, and then we had a baby, and we didn't want to drop two kids on our friends for the 15+ hours of childcare needed each week (easy way to destroy a friendship). So we started looking at other options, the most appealing of which was hiring a nanny.

I won't bore you with the details of our search, the prayers and the fretting and the late-night anxiety I went through thinking about bringing a perfect stranger into my home to take care of the two most precious people in the world to me, especially when we can't afford to pay a lot. I will only tell you the happy ending, because last week I interviewed and hired the perfect nanny. Except for the part where we don't speak the same language (why or why did I minor in French instead of Spanish?), this is the most perfect situation I ever could have dared hope for, and I feel so grateful and blessed that things were able to work out this way.

So next week, I will return to school full time (three days a week, five hours a day), and my boys will be looked after by a nanny.

Now that the stress of finding a nanny has subsided, I've had time to fully reflect about the position I find myself in. I have a nanny. I am voluntarily leaving my children every week. I am paying someone else money we can barely afford so that I can go to school and study literature.

Some days, I really feel like this is all a terrible idea. We are throwing so much money at this thing, this dream of mine to get a master's degree. Money that should be going to get us out of debt or saving for a house. And then I am leaving my children. Leaving them with someone else who will get the afternoon snacks ready and change the diapers and put the baby down for naps and make decisions about how many TV shows to watch. I'm giving up control over those decisions for fifteen hours every week. Why? Why? Why?

The only answer I can give is because for me, for us, this is the right thing to do at the right time. I can't give any more logical explanation, but trust me, I pray about it over and over and every time, I just know it is right. It is okay. I don't know why yet, but some day I will look back and understand.

After meeting with my nanny, I even wondered if I was going to school now just so we could give her a job. She has been out of work for a while, and even though we aren't paying her much, something is more than nothing. While we had been praying to find a good nanny, she had been praying to find work, and here we are answering each other's prayers.

This whole experience is helping to dislodge some perceptions I used to hold about motherhood and childcare -- perceptions that I think would have held me back if I hadn't been pushed so hard to do this. Here's what I'm learning:

• It takes a village to raise a child. One mother can't do it alone, and it's not shameful to ask others to step in and help with childcare.
• My children will still turn out just fine if I am not around for every second of their lives. I haven't given up my responsibilities for their well-fare, education, and development just because I leave them for a few hours every week.
• I like my children more when I get a regular break from them. I have more patience, I am more kind, and I am a better mother when I get back from school.
• I can still be a good mom and be a good grad student.

Sometimes I feel like there is a lot of judgment, especially in the Mormon community, for mothers who work or go to school, especially when they don't have to. And somehow I sort of absorbed the perception that moms who worked weren't as focused or devoted to their families. It's certainly never been spoken or said to me, but I always feel like I have to defend myself when I tell people I'm going to grad school, and prove that I'm not selfish or not dedicated to motherhood.

Because what I've learned the most from this experience is that first and foremost, I'm still a mom. I still do everything I did before as a mother, only now I squeeze homework in at night and on the weekends. And I let a nanny watch them for the few hours I have to be away. Honestly, sometimes I wondered why my classmates would complain about being stressed and busy when school was all they did. Motherhood was what I did, and school was what I did on the side.

Anyway, this has been a long and rambly post, of interest to possibly no one but myself. All I'm trying to say is that if there is any other mother out there considering school, don't let guilt stop you from outsourcing childcare (money may stop you, but it shouldn't be guilt). You don't stop being a mom just because someone else is keeping your kids alive for a few hours.

And, holy cow! I have a nanny!

Two Weeks

Whoo-ee.

I blinked, and here we are. Two weeks into grad school. It's been a blur, folks. A crazy, crazy fortnight. I'm sure you're all dying for an update, so here it is. The highs, the lows, and the oh-so-interesting reflections on my new life as a full-time grad-student.

Let's start with the negatives, so we can end on a positive note, shall we?

The Lows

-My commute. I have to travel to campus three days a week, and no matter how I schedule it, one leg of my trip is fifteen minutes, and the other leg is an hour plus. I just can't avoid rush hour. It's terrible and horrible and I hate driving in traffic and (don't tell my mom) I've already had about five near accidents and I'm just waiting for the day (because it is inevitable) when I hear that awful sound of metal on metal contact.

-The homework. Oh, man, am I drowning in the reading. In my first week alone I was assigned well over 100 pages of scholarly articles on New Formalism (ugh! don't even ask), as well as a 326 page book on mythology (actually sort of enjoyed that one), plus a few poems that were only a couple of pages long, so you know, no biggie. Maybe that doesn't sound all that intense? Throw a toddler in the mix and trust me, it was intense. It helped that my husband had work off on Monday, so he was able to take the Little Man out for a day of fun and adventure while I devoted myself to hours and hours of reading. I have no idea what I'm going to do this week, without that precious time.

-Feeling lost in class. While I am in the master's program, I'm taking the same courses as the PhD students, many who have been in their programs for 3+ years and just have this whole swath of knowledge that completely overwhelms and intimidates me. There was a conversation in class the other day about Kantian aesthetics versus Hegelian "spirit" something or other, and I was so lost. So very, very lost.

-The stress of the babysitting situation. I'll probably write a whole post just on this childcare issue, but trust me. Stress.

-The cost of books. I forgot how expensive it can be to major in literature. Especially when two of your professors require obscure out-of-print texts that the school bookstore wouldn't even carry, and you have to spend hours scouring the internet looking for a copy under $200 that will ship in time to get here before next week. That's just one of the many issues I've had with procuring my books this semester. Let's just that I have not been impressed with this school's bookstore. Not at all.

The Highs

Lest you think nothing good has happened in the past two weeks, let me assure you, it's actually been incredible. Fantastic. Really, I'm not being sarcastic here. This has been an amazing couple of weeks, and these highs have just confirmed that I made the completely right choice to come back to school.

-Saying something brilliant in class. Okay, maybe not brilliant, but despite my lost moments there have been a couple moments in every class where I've asked a question or said something that the professor seemed really excited about. They were those triumphant little moments of "Yes! I'm actually getting this! I'm contributing to this class! The professor knows my name! I might just be cut out for grad school!"

-The commute. Okay, I know I listed this in the cons, because the traffic really is beastly and unpleasant and all that, but! I discovered I can listen to audio books in the car! You guys! I have a dedicated three hours every week where I'm trapped in my car with nothing to do but listen to books! Are there too many exclamation points in this paragraph? Anyway, this is a definite perk, and wonderful for my sanity. I might actually blow my personal reading goal out of the water this year, and there's hope for keeping this blog alive.

-Strong start. I don't want to brag or anything, but I totally geared myself up for the start of this semester, and I have been ON TOP OF IT. I've impressed even myself. Not only have I done all my homework on time (reading almost every assigned word), but I've kept to a rigorous house cleaning schedule (I cleaned BOTH bathrooms this week, which is more productive than my pre-school self), made dinner every night, and still got at least seven hours of sleep every night. Don't worry, I know I won't be able to keep this pace up for long, but for now, I feel a little bit like the Energizer bunny (does anyone reference that any more?).

So to sum up, it's been hard, but it's been good. It's felt so good to get my brain working again and to get back into some of this academic stuff, reading Romantic poetry and the like, and realizing how rewarding this kind of stuff is. I'm tired, but right now I'm feeling very optimistic. Here's to a good start.

A Student Mom: The Application

So, I originally intended to break this post up into several different posts for each section of the application I want to talk about. But then, I kind of waited too long to really remember everything about the application process (I turned it in last September, I should have written this post back then). Also, this is all probably terribly boring to read about, so let's just cram it into one longer boring post instead of multiple, repetitive boring posts, shall we?  Good. Here's the condensed version of my reflections/advice about the actual grad school application.

Letters of Recommendation

My program required that I provide three letters of recommendation from academic sources. This was by far the most intimidating part of the application process for me, because (if you remember) I'd been out of school for over three years at the point I was applying and didn't really have a lot of contact with any of my professors. When my husband was in undergrad, he knew he would need letters of recommendation for law school and so he carefully cultivated some relationships with professors specifically to ask them for letters. Since I had no thoughts of grad school at the time, I went to no such pains with my professors.

I have a friend who went back to school for her master's and she had been out of undergrad for so long that she actually signed up for pre-req undergrad classes at a local community college first just to get some professors that could recommend her. I didn't think my situation was quite so dire as that, but my emails to my professors all contained some version of the plea, "I hope you remember me... ." I was a bit lucky in that I had a student teaching mentor who I knew already had a letter on file for me, and another professor that I actually worked for (so that had to leave some kind of impression, right?). For the third letter, I went back and forth about who to ask. There were a few professors I think I would have preferred to ask, but I just didn't feel like I'd made enough of a connection with them, so I ended up asking a professor who I am friends with on Goodreads (bless Goodreads, another reason I love that site so much) and had maintained a connection with that way.

Here are the pieces of advice I would give from my experience:

-It is worth it to keep up a connection with professors from your undergrad experience! I wish I would have realized that more when I was actually there.
-Professors are busy people, so ask early. I sent emails out last June (the deadline wasn't until Nov. 1st) and I was still sending polite reminder requests in mid October.
-Make sure you know how the letters need to be submitted before you contact your recommenders. Some universities require online submission, others want the old fashioned paper letter signed and with a stamp (I had some confused professors who expected the online submission, but apparently my university isn't up with the times).

Statement of Intent
For my application, I had to write a 500 word statement of intent. This is sometimes also called a personal essay or letter of intent, or some other such name. Requirements and expectations vary depending on program and school. I had a vague idea about what I wanted to write for this statement, but then I went online to look at some example statements and realized I was completely off base. I probably read five or six example essays before writing my own, and while it certainly wasn't anything ground-breaking, at least I didn't embarrass myself by submitting something completely off-topic.

So my advice for writing this statement:
-Read example essays! The internet is a wonderful invention for this, there's lots of stuff out there.
-DO NOT submit your first draft (I admit, I was tempted to do this). No matter how brilliant of a writer you are, it only gets better with revision.
-Have someone else read it. For me, this was my husband. He thought my statement was cliche and bland, but safe (which is what I was going for).

Writing Sample
Because I applied for an English literature program, I was required to submit a 12 to 15 page writing sample. So I picked one of my best pieces from my undergraduate classes (my final paper for my Shakespeare class). Once again, I was tempted to just submit the paper as it was (after all, it got an A in that class), but I listened to my better advisers and sent it off to my brilliant and generous friend Katie (soon to be Dr. Katie, whenever she finishes her thesis) who completely tore it apart and made me realize how much better the paper could be (honestly, why didn't I have her review it back in undergrad when I wrote it? She had such good advice...). It was too much work to make every change she suggested (I didn't have access to enough of my original sources), but I was able to spruce the paper up to what I consider a more acceptable graduate level. Anyway, I don't have any more specific advice other than to reiterate the value of having someone else read your work, and revise, revise, revise.

There was a general part of the application too, forms where I provided all my personal information and the resume of all my previous academic experience, etc. I'm not sure that I have any sort of advice to give for that other than to get it done early. Don't procrastinate getting your application in on time. It's stressful enough being a mom and working on the application, so just get it done early.

And that's it! There you have all my astounding insights into completing a grad school application that will be accepted by a middling university. I hope someone finds this useful someday.

To read the rest of the posts in this series, click here.

A Student Mom: The Big News

So, if you remember, I finished my application for grad school a little over two months ago. The deadline wasn't until November 1st, so I waited patiently to hear back.

And waited.

And waited some more.

I've never applied to grad school before, so I'm not sure what the usual turn around time is for a response, but the start date for this program is January 2014. As in, next month. So I was getting a little freaked out about how we were going to pull everything off if they waited much longer to make a decision. And I also kind of assumed that the longer it took, the less likely it was to be an acceptance. I imagined all sorts of scenarios with the acceptance committee where they sat around a table scoffing at my application saying things like, "What does this mom think she's doing? She's clearly completely out of touch with the academic world, that's the worst letter of intent I've ever read!" So I was quietly steeling myself for the disappointment of rejection, and actually getting excited about all of the free time I would suddenly have next year. So what if I got rejected from grad school? Now we didn't have to line up expensive child care and I could write another book. There were definite up sides.

But then, I got an email this week from one of the professors saying, "I would like to congratulate you on your acceptance..."

I was thrilled for about half a second before the panic started to set in. Because now it's real. Now we actually have to pay the tuition, and I actually have to register for classes, and figure out a schedule, and buy books, and find people to take care of my first born child (and deal with the emotional side of that), and mentally wrap my head around the fact that I'm going to be a student again. This is big and this is scary and this is not going to be easy.

But nothing worth doing in life ever is.

(Read the rest of the posts in this series here.)

A Student Mom: Taking the GRE

One of my biggest fears about this whole application process was studying for and taking the GRE (I'm not even sure what GRE stands for, but it's the general grad-school entrance exam that most non-professional programs require). When I was in undergrad, I had a bunch of friends who were preparing for grad school, and I vividly remember their GRE study sessions: reviewing arcane vocabulary words (did you see what I just did there?) with endless flashcards, desperately memorizing geometric equations, and most of all, stressing out because this test DETERMINED THE FUTURE! I knew I wasn't going to grad school at the time, so I felt grateful that stress wasn't mine.

If I had chosen to do an online or more generic program, maybe I never would have had to take the GRE. Because honestly, when I realized I would actually have to take this test to get into my program, I just about dropped the whole idea. I mean, I hadn't taken a standardized test in nearly ten years! Also, the math section! Guys, a ton of the math on this test is geometry. I took geometry in 8th grade. Do you know how many years ago that was? (More than I'm willing to say online). Thanks to AP credit, I didn't have to take a single math class my entire college career, so it had been a loooong time since I had to think about any of this stuff.

Needless to say, there was some anxiety on my part.

But, I plucked up my courage and pulled myself together and found myself some prep books and flash cards and set myself to studying.

One of the advantages to doing this whole application process now, as opposed to when I was still an undergraduate, is that I could allow myself to focus entirely on studying for the GRE instead of also worrying about classes and papers and grades. Of course, I was also heavily distracted by caring for a rambunctious toddler, so pick your poison, I guess. I just had to be very studious during nap-times. I could usually take and review at least one practice section per nap-time (Side tangent story: I remember at some point during this process hanging out with a bunch of other moms and listening to them talk about the various TV shows they watched during their kids' nap-times, and how they could usually fit two episodes in a day, more if they ignored their kids. I remember feeling self-righteous but also a little bit jealous because I used nap-times to review quadratic formulas and write practice essays. What I'm saying is that it takes some dedication, this whole going-back-to-grad-school thing. It's not an easy thing.)

My husband was very supportive and involved (maybe too involved) in my preparations. He kept giving me lectures about how I needed to take more full timed practice tests in one sitting. A full practice test takes around 3 hours and 45 minutes, and I'm sorry, but no stay-at-home-mom ever has that kind of chunk time, unless you are a mom with a world-champion napper (my kid naps for two hours tops) or you're able to focus between the hours of 10 PM and 2 AM. I did get a babysitter once so I could take a full practice test (a fellow student-mom who understood my conundrum), and my husband was around for one Saturday where I got a practice test in, so I took at least two full practice tests. My husband thought I needed more (after all, he took one full practice test every week for about four months before he took the LSAT, but he is also an overachiever), but in the end I felt like I had done enough to review and improve.

The test itself was also around four hours (more, if you count the time I had to travel to and from the testing site), so I had to schedule it carefully for a day my husband would be home the whole day. I forgot how intense this kind of testing can be, but it was intense and scary and then they threw a triple parabolic function at me (!) and there were moments I thought I was going to just fail the whole thing. But then my score flashed up at the end, and I realized I had pulled off not just a good enough score, but a pretty darn great score. I felt vindicated and oh, so relieved. There I was, out of school for three years with a brain fried by the all-consuming demands of a baby, yet I had pulled off a score that any student would be proud of. It was a pretty great moment for me.

So, for any other moms out there considering the GRE (or whatever grad-school entrance exam), here are my pieces of advice:

-Get the study aids. I went cover to cover on the Kaplan GRE prep book, plus used flashcards (not Kaplan, I don't remember which brand). I can't say if some are better than others, but anything is better than nothing.
-Give yourself time. I started studying last January, and took the test in May. I was super rusty at first, and it took me time to ease my brain back into working like this. I worked out a loose study schedule and stuck to it. That worked for me.
-Take as many practice tests as you can. There are free ones online (at least for the GRE), plus the ones that came with my study materials. It was good to use a variety, because I found some practice tests to be easier and some to be harder than the actual test turned out to be. And yes, try to take at least one or two practice tests in test conditions (timed, all in one sitting, no interruptions from little people demanding food and entertainment, etc.).
-Figure out a target score. I emailed the admissions people at my school so I knew a base score to work with. It helped to have a goal like that.
-Don't stress too much, and keep a balance. Once upon a time I was a perfectionist student who stressed over getting perfect grades and perfect scores. But I'm a mom now. My family comes first, always, before this dream of grad school. I tried to never let GRE prep get in the way of being a mom.

And to any other moms out there, good luck! It can be done!

A Student Mom: Choosing a Program

To see all the posts in this series, click here.

When my husband made the decision about which law school he was going to attend, a lot of factors went into his decision. He looked at things like school rankings, what programs were a viable option with his test scores and grades, and which city he wanted to live in. He flew to several schools for interviews, entertained several offers, and in the end accepted at his first choice school. We moved across the country and spent three years living off of students loans while my husband devoted all of his time to his schoolwork.

For most serious students, this is a typical grad school experience. It will not be mine.

I do not have the luxury of choosing my program based on school rankings, or which area of the country I'd like to live, or employment prospects, or anything like that. Because I am a mother, my choices are far more limited and based on entirely different factors. I'm lucky enough to live in a metropolitan area that is large enough to offer several choices of varying prestige and ease to get into. I'm not applying for the most prestigious of my options (that particular university only offers doctoral programs in literature, and I'm just not ready for that commitment level), but I did choose a fairly reputable school that I have a decent chance of getting into (cross my fingers) and, most importantly, that's close enough to home to make actually being on campus a realistic option. So those were the factors that went into my decision.

I recognize that other mothers in my position may not have even the small number of options I had to choose from. Their options might be limited to night school or online programs. But what I've come to understand during this whole process of choosing a grad school is that it doesn't matter how prestigious the program is. It doesn't matter if I were only going back to school online. What matters is that I am doing it. Because for me, going back to school is not about academic accolades or prestige. At least, that's not my main priority. For me, going back to school is simply about being a better mom. It's about sharpening my mind, setting an example, and developing as a person so I can be a better mom.

Choosing a program is about choosing a situation that works for our family, and that's my advice for any other mother out there thinking about grad school. If you have the luxury of moving your family, then go for whatever program your heart and test scores aspire to. But if, like me, you are tied down to your family responsibilities and are limited by time and location, don't let that stop you. There are options. It's just a matter of choosing to make those options work.