It's true... I really do feel like a dork sometimes. I am a nerd, without a doubt. But nerds are good. Dorks, on the other hand, are not so hot. (Pun intended?)
I'm applying to PhD programs. This is exciting and nerve wracking, for several reasons. There are plenty of people who say I'm nuts. Thankfully, there are also people who are very supportive of the idea, and have been very encouraging. Ironically, those who say I'm nuts mostly think I'm crazy for wanting to be in school for that much longer, and for indulging in the lavish lifestyle of a grad student for another few years. Wait, what? The lavish lifestyle of a grad student?
At this time last year, I was a grad student, and let me tell you... it's not that lavish. I love school, but I hate how poor it makes me. (Okay, that's probably where the lavish comes in; they think I'm the prodigal student, wasting money and piling loans higher, when I could be working and contributing to society.) There are some jobs that I wouldn't mind doing, but my heart isn't in them. When I start planning things that I would have my communication theory students do in class, and for homework, I feel like a dork. But, I feel oddly at peace with my decision to pursue further studies. Why in the world would I be coming up with things like that, if I weren't destined for the job? Do I dare say that it's my passion? Or have I just had really cool teachers?
Whatever the case, it's what I most want to do in this world, aside from making a positive difference for the people around me, at least for a short time. (But I believe that should be my goal, wherever I am, whatever I'm doing... so I don't think it counts.) Nevertheless, I feel like a dork, saying that. I feel like I'm naive and idealistic and have this dreamy outlook of life as a professor.
It's probably akin to the fantastical rides across fields of daisies that young girls picture when you say you have a horse. In those rides, everything's perfect. You look great, with your hair flowing behind you, while you're barefooted, riding a beautiful Palomino bareback and bridle-less across said field. At a gallop. Never mind how you got aboard your mount sans shoes and didn't end up hurting yourself, or at least ending up with very dirty feet. Perhaps you kicked your shoes off in revelry, once you were astride. Or, maybe they just flew off your feet, since you're flying across the field. And in your jubilant state, you didn't notice the breeze blowing through your toes. It all feels so fantastic. It's almost surreal.
Oh wait. It is surreal. Yes, I have had some wonderful rides across fields. Some of the best ones were while I was bareback. That, however, is where the similarities end. My shoes are always on, and securely fastened. Plus, even if I did have enough hair to flow behind me, it's always back and contained under a riding helmet. I wouldn't dream of letting my mare go bridle-less outside the pasture, knowing her fondness for grazing on the go... and there certainly aren't any fields of daisies that I've ever ridden across.
Does that mar my view of riding? Of course not! To the contrary, it makes me glad to know the reality of it. That's why I'm not overly worried about my dreamy visions of having studious students who love my class material choices and think the whole thing's great. Sure, there are a bunch of slobs who would probably make my life difficult, but there are always a few cool kids who wouldn't be so bad to have in class.
But, first, I guess I have to get into a PhD program... then I can start worrying about my students. (One thing at a time, grasshopper.) Which means... I'll have to find some way to say that I want to teach and research, without making myself feel like a total loser and/or dork.
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