Sorry, You're Not Our Type....

I haven't told many people this, but the first time I applied for the doctoral program in adult education, I was rejected.

I am embarrassed to say that I had no idea at the time of how graduate school worked. I assumed that if you had decent test grades (I did) and an okay GPA (if they didn't look back any further than my masters degree), you were a shoo-in. I was so stupid.

I had two friends and co-workers who were applying to the department, and I basically joined them because one of them asked if I were interested. I thought it would be neat, the three of us going to class together and working on papers and studying together. How cute! We They chose adult education because it was one of those departments that was very accommodating as far as schedules. Their faculty understood that adults who go back to school seeking advanced degrees still have obligations like family and work, and they were very flexible. Not so the English department. They wanted doctoral students to quit their jobs and be full-time students for the duration of the program. Sorry, boys, but I've grown accustomed to.... eating.... living in a house... driving.... wearing clothing.....

Anyway, I was very confident about my acceptance into the program. I've always tested well, for some reason, and I thought the interview was pretty much a formality.

I didn't realize it was like a job interview, and I had to go in there and sell myself.

It pains me to remember some of the stupid things I said in that interview.

Faculty: "What area are you interested in studying?"

Me: [Thinking: "I didn't know there was more than one."] "Oh, I don't know..... I'm not even really sure this is something I want to do."

Way to go, Your Brilliancy!!!! That's an excellent way to convince them to allow you into their program, spend time on mentoring and teaching you, serving on your committee, and guiding you through the dissertation process. You're a natural!

Needless to say, they were underwhelmed. And I was so stupid that I left the interview feeling just as confident as when I entered, sure that I had been accepted. I can still feel the warmth of the sun on my cheek as I walked down the sidewalk in my navy pantsuit and heels, headed back to where I had illegally parked my car.

I was so stupid that I was actually crushed when I got the rejection letter.

Wait. Don't I get a do-over? Can't I convince you? Give me another chance!

Katydid always says things happen for a reason, and most of the time I feel like telling her to go to Hell. Because I don't want to hear it. But damn it, she's always right.

I probably wouldn't have survived the program if I had been accepted then. Right after that my second marriage finally died a merciful death, Sweet Girl and I moved, and I changed jobs. No way could I have survived the stress of the doctoral program with all that baggage thrown in as well.

When I reapplied to the same department about six years later, you better believe I went into it with a new perspective. I did my homework and sort of knew what area I was interested in. I had typed my two friends' dissertations for them (ouch, that stung a little, but they paid me), so I knew the lingo. I knew the reputations of some of the faculty members, and I had a better picture of just what was expected. I had a whole new attitude, and having a new last name didn't hurt either.

The Doctor is NOT In........

It's official . . . .

Although I worked long and hard to earn my doctorate in adult education, I HATE the title. I thought I would "grow" into it, but it's been five and a half years, and I still hate being called "Dr." When we introduce ourselves to students in interviews for our program, I say my first and last names. I have a terrible time referring to myself as "Dr."

When I first got my doctorate, it felt funny to hear my name with "Dr." in front of it. Whenever someone said it, I sort of looked around like, "Who around here is a doctor with my same last name?" I thought I would get used to it, but I haven't.

It especially feels awkward for my colleagues to refer to me by the title. I feel a little bit like a fraud. I think the title imparts upon the wearer a level of intelligence that he or she may not actually have. I DO think I'm intelligent, but I think I had that before the doctorate. (I tell people all the time that educated doesn't necessarily mean smart.)

I rarely refer to my title myself. Unless it's in response to a stupid question. I was talking to a finance person one time, and when I told him I was a teacher, he asked, "Do your students call you 'Mrs. _______'?" Duh. So I responded, "Some of them. Except for the ones that call me 'Dr.'" Hubby was a little embarrassed, as if I were crowing about my title. I was only pointing out to the dear finance person what an ignoramus he was for asking that question. High school hasn't deteriorated so far that students are on a first-name basis with their teachers. Yet.

My feelings may be the result of my motivation for getting my doctorate in the first place. In education, the only way to get a raise is to teach for a long time and get additional degrees. I think it kind of sucks that the good teachers, the mediocre ones, and the really bad ones all get paid the same based on years of experience and level of education. And it's pretty hard to get fired from teaching, at least in our state, unless you do something of a sexual nature with a student. And I've known (about) several of THOSE who just moved on to other school districts, a practice commonly referred to as "passing the trash."

When I was working on my doctorate, I had classes with people from many different professions, not just teachers. There were health care professionals, human resource folks, planners, computer people, all different sorts. And many, many of them said getting their doctorates wouldn't give them an increase in pay, a promotion, or anything else beyond the piece of paper and the title.

Huh?

Why would you put yourself through all that work, all that stress, all that research, all that writing, all those courses, all those long nights, all those committee meetings, not to mention THE FINAL ORAL DEFENSE, if you weren't going to get something material out of it? I'm not critical of those people; I'm in AWE of them. Any time the going got tough (like every day?) when I was working on my program, I would ask myself, "Why am I doing this to myself?" And the answer always came back, "Oh yeah, so I can get a big fat raise. Because I've reached the top of the salary ladder otherwise." And that was what kept me going.

Am I the weird one here?

Because I was most definitely in the minority among my classmates, I began to feel that I was a fraud due to the fact that I was in it for the money. I just quietly went about my business and stuck with the program until I had lasted long enough to write a dissertation and escape with my sanity and a diploma.

It's hard to retrain students (ask any teacher who has gotten married and changed her name) to call you by something different. My mother was visiting my classroom once when a student or two referred to me as "Mrs." She whispered to me, "Why don't they call you 'Dr.'?" She looked a little offended.

Personally, I don't care if no one ever calls me "Dr." again. Just as long as they keep putting it in the paycheck, I'm good.