Grad School Learning Curve

c 2011 Kim Ykema

Today I can breathe.  Maybe even twirl a bit.

I just handed in my second paper for grad school and I don’t have another class for two weeks.  (Thank you, Marywood administrators, for including grad students in the Fall Break.)  Instead of reading a textbook or editing a paper, I get to update my readers after several weeks of silence.

First… an update on the back pain.  For over a month I’ve been learning how to function with unpredictable pain.  I’ve gone to physical therapy twice and had 5-1/2 hours of massage therapy and a visit to my primary physician to get orders for an MRI.  Relief is a hit or miss thing so I want to find out if the pain is more than muscular.  I don’t think it has anything to do with the food I’m eating and I am strongly suspicious it has everything to do with the big changes I’ve made in my life this fall… new job… grad school… on top of the normal stress of seasonal change.  I think my body is trying to get me to slow down. 

In the midst of the pain, I’ve written two papers already.  The semester is about 2/3 complete so I’m beginning to think about the final papers for each class.  My daughter thought it would be fun to read my papers (yes, she loves this part of academia… the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree) so I sent her the case study I just finished, apologizing for the technical writing that had the potential to bore her to tears.  That’s right, technical writing.  I’m in a “scientific” field, sort of.  At least that’s what the profs and textbooks are saying repeatedly.  Apparently the field of Social Work has become scientific by doing extensive research that involves lots of questions and plotting points on graphs and coming up with statistics that are meaningful.  When I write a paper, it must be in a professional format that looks JUST SO and would be ready for publication in a peer-reviewed journal.  And I can’t use metaphors.   I have to say what I intend, plain and clear, not all muddied up like a river overflowing its banks after Hurricane Irene.

Which is an awkward but appropriate segue into my next paragraph.

This week we visited Vermont for a few days.  We hoped to see the leaves in all their fall splendor, but we commiserated with the locals at how green everything was.  A couple of roads were still closed after the devastation of Irene over a month ago, but most businesses were re-opened for the fall tourist season.  It rained the whole time we were there, so instead of hiking on trails, we tasted a bit of New England culture by visiting a glassblowing factory, a pottery showroom, and a furniture maker. Every item was beautifully handcrafted from top-quality material.  We breathed the air and dreamed about sipping wine from $80 goblets and sleeping on the $16,000 canopy bed.

We invested a few tourist dollars in a great sign that hangs in our kitchen, “You’re never too old to twirl.”  As soon as Steve saw it, he knew it belonged to us.  The clerk said, “You must be contra dancers.”  With a glance at me, Steve replied, “Nooooo.”

“Square dancers?”

“Noooooooo…”

She stopped asking while we winked at each other and tried to explain that my fantasy is twirling in a field of wildflowers, especially on days that are dark and dreary (both in reality and metaphorically speaking).

I love that sign.  It has lifted my spirits several times since I’ve been home even though I haven’t been home much at all since we returned from Vermont on Thursday.

Thursday evening was dinner with friends and a discussion about whether to continue our weekly Book Group or allow it to morph into something else.

Friday was my day to work for Lauren, a disabled woman who needs my help with household chores and occasional driving.   It was a beautiful fall day.  I felt the warm breeze when I tilted the windows in to wash them.  (I also work for her on Tuesdays.)

Saturday I sat in class from 9 AM to 4 PM.  So many words!  The prof lectured most of the day, rehashing the same material I’d forced myself to read this week.  I feared my brain would pop if it wasn’t for occasional breaks when I dashed to a window or out a door to breathe some fresh air.  The weather was amazing again so I parked my car in the most distant spot at the grocery store on the way home from school.  That walk across the parking lot was life-giving.

Today we’ll visit Promised Land State Park.  It’s another picture-perfect fall day and the red leaves are beginning to pop.  We finished our chores so it’s time to get out there to seize the day… and do some twirling.

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