Puppies and Rainbows

I spent most of last year hoping I'd get an opportunity to speak at the new graduate student orientation this year. My first year of graduate school was an important one for me, and though I am still figuring things out, I wanted to help. This is partly due to the fact that I wasted a huge amount of time last year being unnecessarily scared. I was convinced that I'd been accepted as some sort of fluke - maybe the DGS put my application in the wrong pile? - and I tried my damnedest to fly under radar. In case that was the case, I didn't want anyone to notice.

Well, it wasn't the case. Though grad school does at times seem a breeding ground for rampant insecurity, by the time August came around and I found myself staring into a sea of new and curious grad student faces, I felt good. I felt good about the program and myself in it, and that is almost entirely due to the fact that after a year I have found my people. There are amazing scholars here who not only know my name and my work, but also know me. They are happy when I darken the doorstep of their offices. My colleagues are passionate people, and after a year (and a fortuitous freshmen focus pairing) I have a mentor so amazing it's almost miraculous. Grad school is hard. Everyone knows that. But it doesn't have to be impossible. The people make it better.

So that it what I said, when I spoke at orientation. In fact, that's what the entire panel said. And sure, perhaps we made it seem a bit "puppies and rainbows." Maybe I was overcome with happiness to be back from summer and amongst these people I admire so much. Maybe I was feeling too lovingful of the entire graduate process. But I don't think there's a way to be too into graduate school and the people around you. I think that's what makes for good colleagues, interesting scholars, and passionate teachers. Academia is about the people. It has to be, otherwise we wouldn't have this cult of celebrity around the top minds, the very best teachers, or the most compelling speakers. In this business, our thoughts control our destiny. And where do we get these thoughts, Clarice? We find out what we love. Or, as one of my colleagues said, "You find what lights you up." This is the humanities. You can't stop being human. And even if you can stop being human and still get away with it, I choose not to take that particular route.

The funny thing about adversity, or so about a million quotable people have said, is that it often shows you the truth about something. I am not saying that petty people show you the true nature of the world, but rather that with the bad ones come the really good people as well, just to restore balance to the force. I am disappointed in the actions of some of my colleagues, particularly because I have invested a near-absurd amount of energy believing these people to be...better. But mostly I am disappointed in myself, for getting so worked up about it in the past few days. I have the right to be angry, and I am. I have the right to be hurt, and I definitely am hurt. But I am letting the boogie men win when I avoid them because I'm afraid I'll cry, hurl, or explode. I am letting them win when I feel so overwhelmed with their toxicity that I want to leave altogether. Particularly when 95 percent of the people around me are wonderful, brilliant, professional people.

Well, my parents would say, that kind of behavior just makes me a silly bitch. So in the spirit of school starting tomorrow, and in the spirit of the thesis, coursework, testing, and PhD applications to come, I think it is a good time to stop being a silly bitch.