And then we danced: the bittersweet end of doctoral classes and theeffects on the lovely ladies of cohort 18
Two years ago, on June 10 2010, I met Cohort 18 for the first time. I remember looking dubiously at the 10 faces of the people I would be studying with for the next two years and feeling like I didn't fit in. At least there was Nora. At least we were doing this together; we had already been in school together fir like a zillion years in the reading department at App State and being with her in the doctoral program was like being with one of my old Skool forever best friends from college. I knew I could be me and I would be understood.
Not much else has stuck with me from that first encounter at our orientation, with the exception of two things. First, when one of our soon-o-be professors (or maybe it was Jim) said we would go through the program
as a cohort an he explained that the cohort model was such a support, I was dubious. I had been in a "cohort" before and it felt no different from not being in a cohort. The second thing that sticks with me from that day was the notion of serious play. Someone, maybe Vachel, shared a fancy Greek word that meant " serious play," and informed us that we were in for two years of it.
I remember driving home excited about studying at such an elite level but cynical about ever feeling close and connected to most of the cohort. We were all so different. I felt that they were the "serious" portion and I was the "play" part.
Maybe a semester later ( the time is muddy for me because like most things I live, I tend to block out that an end is possible so I pay too little attention to the precious moments in the every day, or every Tuesday) we gathered at Jim's house. This time, when Emily from Cohort 17 spoke to us about using our cohort, supporting one another, that we would rise and fall together on our journey to doctors, I nodded in agreement. For me, the sisterhood ha already begun. We had already struggled together, cried together, laughed together.
As eager as I am to reach my own commencement and be hooded, I found myself wanting to jump on top of time, grab the reins, and yell, "Whoa, Nelly!". You know something is good when you start to dread its ending.
Somewhere along the way, the two males we started with as cohort mates dropped away, and although we missed Robert who was with us longer, our cohort really seemed to become a living being separate from each of us individually, a sum greater than its parts, when we could raise our fists and say "Girl power".
I have never known such a powerful group of women before. I have recognized women like is before but they tended to travel alone and were pretty rare finds. But in Cohort. 18, we have 9 amazing women who will soon be doctors. We have 9 out-spoken, thoughtful, thinking, ambitious, intelligent women who have each overcome a variety of struggles to be where they are now in school, careers, and family. These women are my role models and soul mates.
And so, last night, when reality invaded and took my dream of being somehow able to pause these last 2 years, I looked around Jessica's house, determined to for once pay attention and take it all in. I looked at each person, cohort mate an professor, and realized how much we had gotten under each other's skin, below the surface, as we interspersed the personal with the theory. Because we are all female, I feel that we all experienced this journey as connected knowers, allowing the affective and personal narrative an equal of not primary role, and so we became closer even than we would have just by simply going through such a program together.
A year ago, in Vachel's globalization class, we experienced many moments of intense discomfort as we sat in silence and contemplated the film Baraka. I felt that same discomfort yesterday as we stood in a circle on Jessica's porch, toasting with Chrissy's champagne, each other, women I feel we have each come to truly love. But I didn't rush to feel the silence. We said a lot of words without speaking last night, and I realized that with you ladies, I trusted myself to not speak, to not lighten the mood, to just listen to the crickets and feel the weight of that moment, that moment suspended in time.
And then we danced. As promised from the outset of the program, we engage I'm serious play. We left out mock defenses and, slowly at first, left our I-ness behind and snapped and wiggled in we-ness. I looked around at each joyous face, saving that moment for a life time of reexamination. Alice, Chrissy, and Jessica boogeyed with abandon while the rest of us tried to avoid it, but soon, Cyndi, Stacy, Nora, Lindsay, and I realized that resistance was futile. For one final instant, Cohort 18 threw caution to the wind, trusted one another, jumped on with both feet, and played.
***
In grand doctoral student fashion, I admit that this narrative is filtered through my subjective I. I only noticed what I saw and felt what I felt, so please, ladies of 18, accept my invitation to share your stories and memories here in whatever form-- stories, quotes, poems, statistics--you know your options after our engagatations.
Thanks to each of you (Alice, Chrissy, Cyndi, Jessica, Lindsay, Nicole, Nora, and Stacy) for enriching my life.
18 forever and I will see you at your defenses.
Not much else has stuck with me from that first encounter at our orientation, with the exception of two things. First, when one of our soon-o-be professors (or maybe it was Jim) said we would go through the program
as a cohort an he explained that the cohort model was such a support, I was dubious. I had been in a "cohort" before and it felt no different from not being in a cohort. The second thing that sticks with me from that day was the notion of serious play. Someone, maybe Vachel, shared a fancy Greek word that meant " serious play," and informed us that we were in for two years of it.
I remember driving home excited about studying at such an elite level but cynical about ever feeling close and connected to most of the cohort. We were all so different. I felt that they were the "serious" portion and I was the "play" part.
Maybe a semester later ( the time is muddy for me because like most things I live, I tend to block out that an end is possible so I pay too little attention to the precious moments in the every day, or every Tuesday) we gathered at Jim's house. This time, when Emily from Cohort 17 spoke to us about using our cohort, supporting one another, that we would rise and fall together on our journey to doctors, I nodded in agreement. For me, the sisterhood ha already begun. We had already struggled together, cried together, laughed together.
As eager as I am to reach my own commencement and be hooded, I found myself wanting to jump on top of time, grab the reins, and yell, "Whoa, Nelly!". You know something is good when you start to dread its ending.
Somewhere along the way, the two males we started with as cohort mates dropped away, and although we missed Robert who was with us longer, our cohort really seemed to become a living being separate from each of us individually, a sum greater than its parts, when we could raise our fists and say "Girl power".
I have never known such a powerful group of women before. I have recognized women like is before but they tended to travel alone and were pretty rare finds. But in Cohort. 18, we have 9 amazing women who will soon be doctors. We have 9 out-spoken, thoughtful, thinking, ambitious, intelligent women who have each overcome a variety of struggles to be where they are now in school, careers, and family. These women are my role models and soul mates.
And so, last night, when reality invaded and took my dream of being somehow able to pause these last 2 years, I looked around Jessica's house, determined to for once pay attention and take it all in. I looked at each person, cohort mate an professor, and realized how much we had gotten under each other's skin, below the surface, as we interspersed the personal with the theory. Because we are all female, I feel that we all experienced this journey as connected knowers, allowing the affective and personal narrative an equal of not primary role, and so we became closer even than we would have just by simply going through such a program together.
A year ago, in Vachel's globalization class, we experienced many moments of intense discomfort as we sat in silence and contemplated the film Baraka. I felt that same discomfort yesterday as we stood in a circle on Jessica's porch, toasting with Chrissy's champagne, each other, women I feel we have each come to truly love. But I didn't rush to feel the silence. We said a lot of words without speaking last night, and I realized that with you ladies, I trusted myself to not speak, to not lighten the mood, to just listen to the crickets and feel the weight of that moment, that moment suspended in time.
And then we danced. As promised from the outset of the program, we engage I'm serious play. We left out mock defenses and, slowly at first, left our I-ness behind and snapped and wiggled in we-ness. I looked around at each joyous face, saving that moment for a life time of reexamination. Alice, Chrissy, and Jessica boogeyed with abandon while the rest of us tried to avoid it, but soon, Cyndi, Stacy, Nora, Lindsay, and I realized that resistance was futile. For one final instant, Cohort 18 threw caution to the wind, trusted one another, jumped on with both feet, and played.
***
In grand doctoral student fashion, I admit that this narrative is filtered through my subjective I. I only noticed what I saw and felt what I felt, so please, ladies of 18, accept my invitation to share your stories and memories here in whatever form-- stories, quotes, poems, statistics--you know your options after our engagatations.
Thanks to each of you (Alice, Chrissy, Cyndi, Jessica, Lindsay, Nicole, Nora, and Stacy) for enriching my life.
18 forever and I will see you at your defenses.