While I'm procrastinating.....
...I might as well bring our subscribers up to date, because, let's face it, most American historians who attempt to write "ground-breaking studies" are full of too many re-fried beans. Just don't tell my department I said that. So, I got my ass just about literally dragged back to Brown much earlier than planned on August 16th. The cause- me sticking my foot in my mouth (I do believe I was born in that position) and telling a prof my real feelings about a certain school of historical thought. We won't get into the gory details- let's just say there was a threat that I wouldn't be allow to take/would be failed on my qualifying exams if I didn't hasten back to kiss the papal arse. So my Dad and I made the trip back from Glendale Springs to Providence in 14 hours, driving all day on the 16th (him driving, me reading). While I really appreciate my Dad helping out and couldn't have done it without him, it really brought home the whole being-dragged-back-by-my-ears-like-the-recalcitrant-school-boy-I-am feeling. After dropping my Dad off at the airport for the flight home on the 17th and feeling like a total [insert appropriate noun here] for disappointing parental expectations, I applied my nose to the soft and tender grindstone that is Brown University and especially my little part of it, and managed, I think, to accrue enough brownie points to at least get me a hearing, if not a passing grade. I love my job.
This past week were the written exams of hell- 3 tests each lasting three hours, from 9 AM-noon, and everyone knows I am not a morning person. Oh my God, not a morning person. God Save the King, not a morning person. Exam number 1 was Early Modern Europe, covering everything...in Europe...from 1200-1800 AD. Don't give me your CE stuff, because its bs- CE is the BC/AD system with the names changed to protect the supposedly-innocent. Exam number 2 was Early America, covering (thanks to a comparative colonial question) 1492-1800. Exam number 3, by far the most painful, was my major field of Early Modern Britain, covering 1509-1800. Mommy.
In each of these exams, I got smacked upside the head with questions I hadn't anticipated, so I had to "conceptualize" the answers- which means spouting interpretation without the plethora of names, dates, and places that make history such an appealing subject for so many children around the world. On two of the exams, I forgot/misremembered the names of major writers in the field. oops. And now I have the orals on Tuesday to look forward to with great exhuberance and furious cramming. Yes, gentle reader, this could be the end of Will Tatum, because nobody really knows what the profs' grading standards are. This basically means that if they like you, then you pass; if they don't, then you go home. Theoretically, gentle reader, you are someone who knows me. Think of the kind of impression I make on authority figures. Yeah.
So now its time to close my eyes, grit my teeth, and think...of home, where I'd much rather be, but I don't want to return in disgrace, which is what a failure will get me. I am about at my wit's end, with my brain slowly turning to mush under the assault of numerous poorly-written books that I should have read ages ago.
The moral of our story: as commentators in the Vietnam War era remarked, "You can't fight a war on a bread and butter economy." The specific lesson here: "You can't be an overwhelming success at graduate school and also lead a happy, full life." They'll tell you differently, oh yes, but they are SELLING SOMETHING, PRINCESS.
I've been thinking about alternative career paths. There aren't many. International Arms Dealer. Saddler. Highwayman.
I've been thinking of horsies and all I left behind at home for the Great Adventure, which has turned out just like many other Great Adventures of Yore.
I've been going over my mental snapshots of happy places and happy times with loved ones.
Perhaps I should have waited and applied again to UNC. But I can't tell the Will of two years ago what the Will of today knows. Nor is there any indication that he would listen.
Graduate school, for those of you who haven't been THERE and done THAT, is like an amplitude wave, with peaks and troughs. Some people have actually spent time try to figure out at which points in a grad student's life these occur. I actually saw a chart the other day detailing peaks and troughs during the dissertation process. Right now, I've got the feeling I'm at the bottom of the biggest trough. But I'm also afraid that there's worse yet to come.
Its not the Tatum style to recognize defeatism or to hit rock bottom. At least its not *this* Tatum's style. But despite my carefully preserved edge, its getting close. I've lost my exhuberance for grad school (though not, perhaps for the profession) and I'm being worn down day by day.
Mr. Bruce Miller of Ravenscroft Fame said that there is no such thing as a free ride. I thought this was a free ride. I thought it would be a great adventure- go see how the other side lives, experience exotic travel and exciting work, etc. I thought it would be a great way to reap fringe benefits and earn everlasting glory (or at least a start on that path). I thought it was the path to follow in honouring the sacrifice of the British Army.
Most of those thoughts have passed away now. The only thing that drives me to keep returning to the mental thumb-screw is the hope of one day being able to honour that sacrifice. A degree from Brown would be a powerful tool for that task.
Grad school is not a vacation, people. The Path is fraught with peril, were death of your soul awaits you all with large, stained yellow teeth. Only go if ye be men, or women, of valour.
ieesh, I need a vacation. But first I need whatever intervention it will take to get me a passing grade on Tuesday.
God Save the King!
This past week were the written exams of hell- 3 tests each lasting three hours, from 9 AM-noon, and everyone knows I am not a morning person. Oh my God, not a morning person. God Save the King, not a morning person. Exam number 1 was Early Modern Europe, covering everything...in Europe...from 1200-1800 AD. Don't give me your CE stuff, because its bs- CE is the BC/AD system with the names changed to protect the supposedly-innocent. Exam number 2 was Early America, covering (thanks to a comparative colonial question) 1492-1800. Exam number 3, by far the most painful, was my major field of Early Modern Britain, covering 1509-1800. Mommy.
In each of these exams, I got smacked upside the head with questions I hadn't anticipated, so I had to "conceptualize" the answers- which means spouting interpretation without the plethora of names, dates, and places that make history such an appealing subject for so many children around the world. On two of the exams, I forgot/misremembered the names of major writers in the field. oops. And now I have the orals on Tuesday to look forward to with great exhuberance and furious cramming. Yes, gentle reader, this could be the end of Will Tatum, because nobody really knows what the profs' grading standards are. This basically means that if they like you, then you pass; if they don't, then you go home. Theoretically, gentle reader, you are someone who knows me. Think of the kind of impression I make on authority figures. Yeah.
So now its time to close my eyes, grit my teeth, and think...of home, where I'd much rather be, but I don't want to return in disgrace, which is what a failure will get me. I am about at my wit's end, with my brain slowly turning to mush under the assault of numerous poorly-written books that I should have read ages ago.
The moral of our story: as commentators in the Vietnam War era remarked, "You can't fight a war on a bread and butter economy." The specific lesson here: "You can't be an overwhelming success at graduate school and also lead a happy, full life." They'll tell you differently, oh yes, but they are SELLING SOMETHING, PRINCESS.
I've been thinking about alternative career paths. There aren't many. International Arms Dealer. Saddler. Highwayman.
I've been thinking of horsies and all I left behind at home for the Great Adventure, which has turned out just like many other Great Adventures of Yore.
I've been going over my mental snapshots of happy places and happy times with loved ones.
Perhaps I should have waited and applied again to UNC. But I can't tell the Will of two years ago what the Will of today knows. Nor is there any indication that he would listen.
Graduate school, for those of you who haven't been THERE and done THAT, is like an amplitude wave, with peaks and troughs. Some people have actually spent time try to figure out at which points in a grad student's life these occur. I actually saw a chart the other day detailing peaks and troughs during the dissertation process. Right now, I've got the feeling I'm at the bottom of the biggest trough. But I'm also afraid that there's worse yet to come.
Its not the Tatum style to recognize defeatism or to hit rock bottom. At least its not *this* Tatum's style. But despite my carefully preserved edge, its getting close. I've lost my exhuberance for grad school (though not, perhaps for the profession) and I'm being worn down day by day.
Mr. Bruce Miller of Ravenscroft Fame said that there is no such thing as a free ride. I thought this was a free ride. I thought it would be a great adventure- go see how the other side lives, experience exotic travel and exciting work, etc. I thought it would be a great way to reap fringe benefits and earn everlasting glory (or at least a start on that path). I thought it was the path to follow in honouring the sacrifice of the British Army.
Most of those thoughts have passed away now. The only thing that drives me to keep returning to the mental thumb-screw is the hope of one day being able to honour that sacrifice. A degree from Brown would be a powerful tool for that task.
Grad school is not a vacation, people. The Path is fraught with peril, were death of your soul awaits you all with large, stained yellow teeth. Only go if ye be men, or women, of valour.
ieesh, I need a vacation. But first I need whatever intervention it will take to get me a passing grade on Tuesday.
God Save the King!