B.S. No Longer

I'll start with a warning that this will undoubtedly be a long post. It's only fitting that it should be long because it's a post about the past three years of my life, and about a document that took 14 months of writing and ended up being 119 pages long. It's a post about a promise to myself and a journey that began the first time I checked the box on a standardized test that said that my parents held Master's Degrees. It's a post about the sense of numbness and celebration and relief that is coursing through me at this moment because now, pending the submission of a few forms and perhaps a walk down an aisle in a few months, my child will be able to check that box, too.

When I graduated with a double Bachelor's degree three-and-a-half years ago, I never expected that it would take me this long to make it here. I also never expected that by the time I did make it here, I would be completely exhausted by the process and disillusioned about the world of academia, or that I would have learned how to advocate for myself in that world, or that I would be married and hugely pregnant, or perhaps most surprisingly of all, that I would finally be comfortable with public speaking. In other words, I never expected that I would be so different from the person I was just four short years ago.

For the past two weeks, ever since I submitted my thesis to my committee members, I have been calm when I should have been nervous. I have been anticipatory, rather than anxious. And I found that strange because it's in my nature to worry and fret and obsess about events such as this, but it finally occurred to me that I wasn't worried because I was ready. Not just prepared, like usual, but truly ready for the culmination of this process. When I left home this morning, I told the animals that when I returned, I would be able to claim a new set of initials behind my name. They were unimpressed. (Of course).

I drove to school looking forward to 11 o'clock, when the defense was scheduled to begin. I did not arrive an hour early, as is my custom, to fuss with the presentation "one last time." I did not worry at the last minute about whether my data was really okay or whether I had used the right statistical tests or whether it mattered that I wasn't wearing pantyhose under my pants. When I got there, I did not panic when the media center informed me that my reservation for a laptop and projector had been lost. (After a few minutes, they did find me another laptop and projector after all). I will admit to a moment of slight panic when I tried to roll the projector cart out of the elevator and suddenly, a wheel fell off and I couldn't do anything but stand there, half in the elevator and half out, trying to figure out how I was going to hold up the cart while simultaneously retrieving and fixing the wheel. As it turned out, a very nice janitor heard my half-hearted calls for help and came running. (Thank you, nice janitor. In the story of this day, you will remain my hero).

The two-hour defense was very informal and my committee members offered helpful advice and asked insightful questions, which I was able to answer with a relative degree of expertise. The oh-so-thoughtful executive assistant who had scheduled the room for me had made sure to book a room that had lots of space and lots of chairs and that was set up such that I was able to sit down through the presentation, rather than having to be on my feet for two hours. (Thank you, executive assistant. In the story of this day, you will remain my guardian angel).

And then, suddenly, after a brief stint of pacing the halls while the committee held a closed discussion about whether I had adequately defended my project, it was over. There were smiles, and assurances that I had done a good job, and some chatter about everyone's summer plans. It seemed almost anti-climactic that it should end like this, with a few handshakes and some signatures on a yellow piece of paper, a celebratory lunch and a hug from my advisor. And when I returned home and told the animals that I had kept my promise, that I had passed my defense and was now the proud soon-to-be recipient of a Master's Degree, they remained unimpressed. (Of course).

But the sense of calm that has so pervaded my world for the past two weeks is suddenly replaced by an almost giddy relief. I did it. It's done. Whatever went before and whatever comes next, this day has been a success and a celebration, the much anticipated fulfillment of a promise, the long-awaited end to this particular journey, and more importantly still, the starting point for my next set of adventures.