Degrees of Separation

Most of us have had the experience of walking away from a conversation, knowing exactly what we should have said.  I, personally, am always about 300 times cleverer in those imaginative alternate realities than I am in real life.  We rehearse these conversations that we had somehow botched originally, struggling restlessly with the knowledge that if we would only have another chance at that exact same conversation, we’d be so devastatingly ready that redemption would surely be ours; and our would-be retractors, those unworthy victors of the original exchange, would realize just how awesome we truly are.  Usually, though, those conversations never happen again, and we’re left as the sole believers in our undiscovered wit.  Really, hindsight and too much free time is a tough combination for everyone.

What’s worse, though, is when those conversations actually do recur, and you never manage to cultivate a comeback. 

As a graduate student studying English Literature, I get asked the same question over and over again (sing it with me fellow liberal arts students): What are you going to do with that?

And, to a point, it’s such a fair question.  Genuine curiosity doesn’t offend me.  It’s the tone, it’s the follow-up questions, it’s the look of distrust and suspicion, as though I’m going to prowl the town with Derridean flair and start systematically dismantling street signs because there is no way they can ever truly represent the signified. (I’ve taken a lot of theory this year)

People don’t really ask me what I want to do with my degree, they ask me why I’m still pursuing an education, and there are a few thoughts implicit -and sometimes explicit- in this inquiry:

Why are you shirking your responsibility to be useful in society?  What are you afraid of in the “real world”?  Why are you wasting your time/money/ heretofore undiscovered musical talent and/or modeling potential?  OK, no one ever asks me about the last one, but I won’t pretend to know for sure that’s not what some people are wondering.

And I never know what to say.  I always smile politely, reply with something benign and meaningless, then toy with saying, “You are not worth another word, else I’d call you knave,” but quoting Shakespeare at people in this situation seems sort of counterproductive.

However, I recently finished my first year of graduate school, and I’ve been pushing myself to really explore the symbiotic relationship between Academia and small town life.  I think even if a foray into Foucault wouldn’t interest a lot of people who were not sitting through a theory class (and, to be fair, a lot of people who are sitting in a theory class), there are still a few things I’ve learned from my first year as a graduate student that transfer to life outside of Academia.

Work while confused.  Try to work through your confusion, and, if you can’t, learn to use your confusion.

This is where I admit that I totally understand why people think literary theory is ridiculous.  Sometimes you read sentences that are half a page long.  People make up the craziest words, and you’re just supposed to go along with it.  And then you have the theorists who tell you that words don’t really provide stable meaning anyway, so good luck ever knowing what anyone is talking about.  I spent about 50% of my time confused this year, and there was many a moment when I considered throwing text books across the room, but, alas, they were generally too heavy. 

The secret to making it past those moments of frustration is, perhaps, just accepting them.  Yeah, someone’s making something up right now, and, OK, this person could probably make an effort to be clearer, but maybe something this person is saying could add to your life.  You could actually walk away being more than you were before you started participating in this exchange (because, never doubt, it is an exchange). And if, at the end of the sharing you’re still confused, look at what’s confusing you and make sure that you communicate your own ideas in a more efficient manner than what you just witnessed.  It’s OK to not understand.  It’s never OK to shut down because you don’t understand.

Be around people who get you, and also be around people who don’t.

I first really clicked with one of my friends in the program because we’d both earned a B on the same, minor essay, and were disproportionately angst-ridden about it. Even though we ended up having more in common than our unrealistic academic standards, I still get a lot of comfort from having a person around who knows where I’m coming from when I scowl at a 19/20, because I really was aiming for that 100%.

I also have a few friends in the program who will unabashedly tell me to chill the hell out and watch a movie or get a drink.

In life, you need people who will reinforce your drive and understand your slightly neurotic tendencies – you need those people who will assure you that you aren’t crazy.  You also need those people who will tell you that you are definitely crazy.

You do not need to prove that you are the smartest person in the room.

Grad school is very competitive, and even though our program is not as cutthroat as others, there was still occasionally the sort of tension that derives from two or more people heatedly debating an irrelevant point in order to see who would prove themselves Smartest Person Sitting in an Uncomfortable Desk. I’m not sure what you get for winning this award, but if the prize was cookies, I really regret not participating. Next time.

Anyway, really, when we’re so concerned with showing off our intelligence, we tend to tear other people down instead of trying to discern how to add to the conversation before us.  And, you know, sometimes the best way to add to a conversation is to just stay silent.

It’s great to know what you want to do in five years.  It’s necessary to know what you have to do to get through the week.

Things get busy in graduate school.  Things actually get so busy that you start to long for the days when you thought you were busy as an undergraduate.  Adding to the atmosphere of preoccupation (that smells slightly of fear and coffee) is the fact that there’s basically always something you could be doing – another project that needs completing, a paper that needs revising, etc.  Believe me when I say that to-do lists are helpful, but also rather frightening things.  It’s easy to be in the middle of one project, and then accidentally start to think of all of the other projects you may never get to because of old age. 

Despite what you may have surmised based on stories of adrenaline-fueled individuals lifting cars off of children, panic is not conducive to an effective working environment, at least not long-term.  As much as you can, focus on one task at a time, if for no other reason than you will actually experience joy when you finish one thing, instead of anxious dread because you thought you were on a journey to Accomplishment, but you’re really on a treadmill with a carrot dangling in front of you.  And you don’t even know that you particularly like carrots.

Unapologetically spend time doing what you love.

OK, so, after all of that, I still don’t know what to say to people who don’t get my degree, but I do know that my first year as a graduate student has taught me that I don’t need to apologize for the joy and sense of purpose I get from being a part of Academia. 

I truly believe that the world is a better place when we’re doing what we love, if for no other reason than we’re happier. 

As for what it means when I’m saying “better” and “happier,” and who I’m actually talking about when I say “we,” well…Those are questions for some literature students. See how much you need us?