Don't Stop Me Now!

An accurate description of graduate school.

I just got a text message from a classmate that says “I can see the finish line!!! Have a great day!”

I rarely get texts (I don’t have them included in my phone plan because I’m a poor graduate student) but this one made me smile. It was sweet for my classmate to send out a message to us all, reminding us how far we’ve come and how close we are to the end.

I’m not super close to anyone in my cohort, but I still see them as comrades, as sisters and brothers in arms, so this was a nice reminder that we’ve all been in it together, that we’re thinking of one another, and that soon, we’ll all be parting paths, following our own destinies.

This journey has been simultaneously long, fast, quick, hard, difficult, crazy, and amazing, and while I’ve enjoyed being a student, I’m incredibly excited for my future life that waits beyond that finish line.

After finishing my undergraduate degree in journalism, I thought about graduate school off and on. When I first moved to North Carolina I was torn between studying folklore at UNC or finding some place to study sex therapy or sexology online (yes, these are real degrees.) I even went as far as buying at GRE study book, but decided that graduate school was too expensive.

It wasn’t until many years later after I suffered from some health problems and some pretty serious depression that I thought about graduate school again. I went through an obligatory mid-life existential crisis and my bishop gave me some great advice. He said “you know, if you really want to help people and integrate these different areas of your life, you should study counseling or therapy.”

What? Me? A therapist? But I’m crazy!

And I thought about it and then he and I talked about it some more, and I did some research into area programs and degree plans and decided that social work was the way to go.

So of course when I told people I wanted to be a social worker their minds went immediately to working for the Department of Social Services or working in child welfare or Child Protective Services. “Are you sure that’s the job for you?” someone asked skeptically. And he was right to be skeptical. Those aren’t jobs for me. But the great thing about social work is that there are lots of options, so many options.

I found programs, I let my boss know I was applying, I told my husband I was applying, I studied for the GRE, I took the GRE, I filled out applications, I waited, I waited, I waited, and finally I was rejected from one school (which wasn’t a good fit for me, anyway) and then I was accepted into two others. Two! Grad schools! Who wanted me!

So I had a great summer and bought some new clothes and a new laptop, and then went to orientation and freaked out.

There’s this thing that happens to some people where they don’t feel like they belong, that they are imposters, and I felt that big time my first semester. I was going to fail! I was a journalist, not a social worker! Why did they take me? Were they gonna kick me out? Why did I ever think I could do this?

That first semester was hard. And the second semester overall was a bit easier, aside from HELL WEEKS in April. But I soon came to realize that graduate school, and especially social work, were the perfect places for me. Social work is this great mix between social justice and care and helping. You look at the individual, their families, their communities, their societies, their world. It’s policy and analysis and attending behaviors and non-verbal communication and theory and psychology and women’s studies and racial justice and all of these wonderful, important things.

And while I’m not done yet, I’m almost there! We can see the finish line! There it is!

I just finished my third semester of graduate school, which isn’t bad for someone with my background. I’ve changed so much as a person, and I know I’ll keep on changing. I’m happy and I’m excited and I have a healthy dose of stress and anxiety, and I think I’m a better person than when I started, too. It’s been a wild, crazy, wonderful ride, and just after a few more months it will be over, and I’ll be starting another new great, wild, crazy, and wonderful adventure.

Et tu, GOP?

 

the sign reads “et tu, GOP? Teachers have been betrayed!” as part of North Carolina’s Moral Mondays.

Photo courtesy of NC Policy Watch.

The Hero

Last night I had a Doctor Who/Social Worker dream. 

I’m a huge fan of Doctor Who. I love the charm. I love the cheesy adventures (some of them.) I like a lot of the music, and many of the companions, the complex storylines, the epic hero cycle, the history of the television show itself… Doctor Who, what’s not to love?

Occasionally I have Doctor Who dreams, and they’re some of my most favorite dreams to have. Last night I dreamt I was a school social worker and monsters were eating the children. Through a complex turn of events, the Doctor (David Tennant) and Shadow Doctor from the TARDIS Past (Christopher Eccleston, and no, this is not a real Doctor Who thing, my dreaming mind made it up because Eccleston is my favorite Doctor) came and with their sonic screwdrivers, they zapped some library book shelves, got some monster aliens, and saved the day and the children and I was a very happy social worker indeed. 

But as the dream kept on going, I realized that my hand would turn blue every time it came close to Timelord technology, which could be found, surprisingly, in many places. And then the Doctor told me that it was because I had Timelord blood in me, too, which was why I aged so well and was so very clever. (ha!)

Upon waking, I stayed in bed with my warm blankets and pillows and cats and dog, reluctant to wake up and study and do flash cards and do my time sheets and go to my internship and think about discussion board questions and contemplate research questions and send my report for my prison visitation and all of these things. Wouldn’t I much rather stay in my warm bed and think about my adventures with the Good Doctor?

My social work adventures with the good Doctor? Where I have seemingly magical powers that help me be clever and defeat evil? Where I can save children and save the day and do all of those things I’d never, ever do in my own life? Because being a school social worker is hard, and honestly, I’m not very interested in that type of work. That’s like, social justice advocacy stuff, and I feel like I’m really not cut out for something intense and, well, hard, like being a school social worker. 

But if I were a Timelord, would it be different? There’s an internet game that goes around where you pick what type of Timelord you’d be. The closest item of clothing to you right now would be your signature item (mine is an old gray grandpa sweater), the last person to text you is your companion (mine is a spam text asking to me by girlfriend), and your job is your name. I’m a student right now, and being called the Student as a Timelord sounds like it has quirky potential. But in a few years it will be a Social Worker. 

The Social Worker.

Oh, here comes the Social Worker! She’s gonna manage all of our caseloads and advocate for client rights and say stuff like “how does that make you feel?” and “do you want to talk about it?” and “oh, that must be very hard for you” and “thank you for taking that risk. That was very brave.” 

The Social Worker.

And so I’ve been thinking about that all morning. How in my dream, with the Doctor, I was very brave. I wasn’t just brave fighting off monsters, but being a school social worker is a brave job, too. And I realize that I’ve been talking about certain types of social work like it’s not “for me” because I’m not very brave, and so many jobs in social work need brave people.

The juvenile justice track at my school? Oh no. I’m not cut out for that. That’s for those other people, not me. Working in a drug rehabilitation center? That’s for those other people. I’m not cut out for that. I’m not strong enough to work in a prison, and I’m not talented enough to work with people with schizophrenia. All I want is my nice clean private practice with nice quiet people who have something like depression or anxiety. Depression and anxiety? Those are monsters I can defeat. Anything more than that, like, a borderline personality disorder, well, that’s a monster I might need the Doctor to help me with. 

But in my dream, my hands turned blue when I came in contact with Timelord technology, and that was because I had a little bit of Timelord blood in me. And because of this, I was able to fight off monsters, too. I was able to work in something really really really hard like school social work. I could do it. In my dreams I could fight the big monsters. 

So maybe, just maybe, I do have a little bit of Timelord blood in me. And while I hope my hands don’t start turning blue, I hope I am able to use that strength and cleverness, the wisdom of the Timelords. Maybe I’m stronger than I think I am, and maybe I can fight even the biggest, scariest monsters. I don't want to be a hero, but I want to do a good job. I want to be an effective, meaningful, useful, competent person in whatever I'm doing.

The Social Worker! (in her ugly gray sweater)

true story

From Post Secret on Sunday July 28 -

Well, I don't yet know what to do, anyway. But I'm afraid this Post Secret will be mine in a few years! Doh!