Reflections on grad school: month one

Now that I’m a month into my graduate school journey, the question I’ve been asked most frequently is: How is school going?

It is challenging, though not at all in the way I expected.

I knew this year I would have to buckle down, and get used to being immersed in the academic world once again. To do so, I prepared myself myself months in advance by writing long papers. After producing 100+ pages of policy research, I thought I would be 100% ready to take on whatever challenges graduate school threw my way.

I was not.

—

This semester, my faculty designed my program’s classes so that professor and students could co-create their academic environment together. Learning in this way has taught me that everyone’s lived perspective is valuable, and possesses something for others to learn from.

I wasn’t prepared to share so much of myself in the classroom.

That’s why I have this website. It may be on the internet where anyone can read it, but I know my work is only being exposed to those who can hold it in safe hands, at least for now.

I don’t have that same kind of assurance in graduate school.

—

Last week, I took a leap and poured my heart out to my class. My assignment was to braid together Narrated Nationhood and Imagined Belonging, Braiding Sweetgrass, and my own family history in presentation form. To do so, I interviewed both sides of my family to learn about their stories of migration, assimilation and colonization.

I grappled with what it meant to come from both colonizing and colonized ancestors, and what kinds of responsibilities I hold as a result. Parts of my own family’s story had me choking up with tears as I spoke.

At the end of it, when it came time to offer feedback, the first person to respond said, “I love your outfit”.

—

My classmate’s comment was intended to land as a compliment, but it hit me as an uncomfortable gut punch, a stark reminder that I am often treated as something to look at rather than someone worth listening to.

I walked away from that class feeling gutted. It was one example amongst many that has made my master’s degree so much more emotionally draining and time-consuming than my academic research practice could have prepared me for.

I made time that week to mourn graduate school for not being what I expected.

—

A few days later, I showed up to a seminar, where two of my classmates asked how my week had been going.

“I’ve been sad the past couple of days,” I replied.

They came over to me, and asked permission to hold my hands. I let them.

“Listen, I know I didn’t get to tell you in class the other day, but I LOVED what you had to say. It was incredibly, powerfully written. I know how hard it can be to share thoe things, and I am so proud you did. Your piece was on my mind for days afterwards”.

Something new clicked for me.

THIS is what graduate school is about.

It’s about making genuine connections with like-minded people.

It’s about building a deeper understanding of my own identity, and how that ties into social justice.

It’s about being brave enough to put myself out there, even when that isn’t received the way my ego expects.

All the other stuff- the research and writing bits- are things I have already proven myself capable of doing.

—

Does that change the fact that graduate school is challenging?

No. I won’t deny that it still is.

However, rather than mourn about what graduate school isn’t,

I can choose to be excited about what it is,

and who it will evolve me into.