A Guide to Beginning Grad School

The culmination of a year’s worth of hard work and endless wishing, hoping, and praying has paid off. On Wednesday, I begin my first day of classes as a graduate student, and I will finally be able to embark on this journey that I’ve been so anxious to start.

It seems pretty crazy to remember that all I could think about this past year was being where I am right now. While I was living in Argentina, moving to Tuscaloosa consumed my thoughts. I don’t think there has ever been a person traveling through Europe who was more excited to get to central Alabama, but that was me.

I spent a year thinking about this day arriving so I could finally do what I’ve loved for so long, but I didn’t think about all the questions I would have as the day got closer and closer. Sure, I received plenty of emails from the university with dates telling me when orientation began and what books to buy for my courses, but let’s face it—there are a lot of questions that the graduate admissions staff can’t help you with it.

If you’re going to grad school, want to in the future, or have a concerned friend, please treat this post as a kind of advisory on some things you might want to know.

What is a GTA? What is an RA? What is LOL? (Just kidding.)

There are a lot of acronyms that come with grad school territory. Just within the English department, I feel like I’ve heard about 20 terms. From TESOL to CRES—what do all these strange new things mean?

First of all, a GTA is a graduate teaching assistant. If you got into a grad program with an assistantship, there’s a good chance this is you. You will likely be an instructor for a program under the advisory of a big-time professor. At Alabama, professors have these giant groups of 300 students for lecture classes. Their GTAs get split up to instruct one class a week for 50 or so of those lecture students. Basically you’ll lead discussion with instruction from the guiding professor and get a sample of what teaching is really like.

An RA, or research assistant, helps a professor with whatever they need for their research. This is what I am, and although I haven’t gotten to do any RA work so far, it seems like a pretty low-key role and also a great way to get to know about the type of research going on in your field of study, AKA a little future thesis inspiration.

Is it too presumptuous to wear a blazer on the first day of orientation? Do I need to buy a blazer with elbow patches? Will other people be wearing blazers?

Yes, for some reason my mind has been stuck on the idea that grad students are typically glasses-wearing, blazer-donning people. I couldn’t get over this mental image. I won’t tell you how many times I looked at the J. Crew website wondering if I should get a jacket in navy, black, or brown.

However, let me tell you, grad school is what you make it. There is no reason to psych yourself out about professional wear, because you will see literally all spectrums of dress. During orientation week I saw one woman in a blazer and some other people in jeans and sandals. Although I do think it’s important to start off on the best note, and for some people that means dressing professionally, it is absolutely not necessary to get a blazer. At least for orientation. It’s also not presumptuous, and you’ll probably just look really good if you end up wearing one!

What do I sign up for? What don’t I sign up for? How do I carefully straddle the line between dazzling overachiever and annoying do-gooder kid?

When you enter a department in grad school there’s a very good chance that you’ll begin receiving emails for the entire department, whether or not they have anything to do with you. For me this caused concern and confusion, because I went from having just accepted my scholarship package to reading emails sent to me about optional “group-led discussion sessions regarding pedagogy.” WHAT?! I just got into this program! I’m not even totally aware of what my classes are about, let alone all these optional things.

If you start getting emails about discussion groups, writing workshops, etc., there’s a good chance you just don’t know enough about the subject to be in it. If you just got into grad school, there’s a hell of a lot you have to learn about, so take a step back and think about that before you get in over your head. Also, you’re about to be busier than you ever thought was possible, so pace yourself. You can also always ask the person behind these emails if it would be appropriate for a first year grad student to join in.

Am I in over my head? One of my syllabi includes the casual usage of the word “therein” which I think I’ve only ever seen used in the Constitution before today.

Grad school is different than undergrad. I’ve been told that this specific transition is even more difficult than going from a Masters to a PhD program. Professors are suddenly talking to you more like a peer than a student, which oftentimes means they’re bringing out the lofty words reserved for fellow professors. It’s a big wakeup call to read your first syllabus because it’s probably going to both overwhelm you and give insight into the way professor really talk. Not like the same University-approved syllabus used year after year for Writing 101.

However, chances are you’re not in over your head. You got into this program because the decision committee saw some bright, shining light within you that made you stand out. Try to take things day by day and not freak yourself out.

Will I make friends? Will people be nice?

I’m one week into living in Tuscaloosa. Already I’ve found a lovely group of people to spend time with, am going on a date this evening, and have met two girls in particular that I think may be my friend soulmates.

I’m not saying any of that because I’m a particularly exciting, social person. All of that happened by just being friendly and open to the idea of meeting new people, which is absolutely crucial when one moves to a new place. These are the people who will be in your classes for the next however-many years. They’re the people you’ll have meetings with, work beside, and complain to about lack of sleep.

During orientation my greatest advice is to focus on making connections with your peers. I had orientation for three days, and each day I told myself to go in with a smile and try to talk to one new person. It worked really well, and by the end of the three days almost everyone in that room was hanging out outside of our required orientation meetings. People will be nice because they’re in the same boat as you, and nothing brings people together like being nervous about new social settings.

What is the best advice for entering grad school?

A smart, kind friend gave me some advice. I asked her how she could have better prepared for her Masters program, or what she would advise me to do with just the few weeks left until I walked into that classroom for the first time. Her words?

“A teacher told me to find what was going to keep me sane. You’re gonna get stressed. It’s gonna be hard. Discover whatever activity it may be—exercise, knitting, whatever—that you can turn to when things get crazy.”

Find something outside of your program to take interest in because, as my friend said, things are going to get hard and you’ll need a distraction. I personally love kick boxing and attempting new recipes in the kitchen because these take my mind off whatever craziness I’m personally experiencing. If you go into grad school with a positive attitude and have the mindset of approaching each day with energy, excitement, and curiosity, then you can get through anything.

My concluding grad school advice is to follow these three steps:

Enter a program that interests you
Find your social setting in your new town
Remember how many people have Masters degrees.

It’s gonna be hard, but we’re gonna make it. Good luck, y’all!

For those on a grad school budget, here are 4 ways to earn extra cash.
For the goal-getter: 3 Things I'm Learning About Goals

[Photo by Juliette Kibodeaux.]

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The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

Even Here: Words for When You're Wandering

When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

What is Home?

Late last night, I flew back into town after a week away, the city lights covering the Valley like a blanket of incandescent flowers. I’ve flown into Phoenix at least a dozen times at this point. Usually, I can identify a handful of landmarks, like my antenna-scarred South Mountain or the twinkling lights of the bridges spanning Tempe Town Lake.

Flying into Nashville, however, was always different.

I Don't Live Here Anymore

I recently returned to Nashville for the first time since moving to Phoenix five months ago.

Before my reunion, I often said that the word “home” could apply to both Nashville and Phoenix. Nashville is my home. Phoenix is my home. I could find that home-sweet-home feeling in both cities.

During my 8 days back, I frequented my old haunts. The brickwalled coffee shop still serves the meanest mocha in town. The hillside winery still proves to be a worthwhile spot to sip away a sunny Sunday afternoon. The hip burger joint still offers a lovely evening to dine with friends, new and old. The lime-green Mexican restaurant on the corner of Whitebridge still feels like a queso-soaked refuge.

There were many “stills,” but there were changes, too.

Why did you move?

A cardstock print sits propped against the lamp on my desk: a taupe watercolor swipe outlining a peakside Saguaro, the sun a tiny ring above. Beneath this minimalist illustration are these words in typeface: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

I happened upon this notecard-sized print on the way out of a shop last weekend, after already having completed another purchase. It was the last print of its kind in the pile. I had to have it. I returned to the cashier: “This one, too.”

You see, this verse has been a thread weaving through my story, simple words spoken by a prophet long dead, a passage of comfort I’ve returned to again and again since my pilgrimage to the desert four years ago, when I inked a cactus on my wrist.

The Good Old Days

Last week was National Margarita Day.

I did not, however, celebrate the holiday. Truthfully, I’ve yet to find THE Mexican place here in Phoenix. You know the one: gaudy decorations, cheap food, even cheaper margaritas.

But there’s a Mexican restaurant at the corner of Charlotte and Whitebridge in Nashville, TN.

You may have heard of it.

Witching Hour (or, Fighting Off Demons at 3 am with a Box Cutter)

Between the hours of 3 - 4 am, I find myself awakened by nothing in particular. The room is silent. There is no sound outside. No loud car horns. No dogs barking.

I’m upset.

I wish it was something other than just me. Then I could stop it. Nothing is to blame. It feels like moments have passed since I closed my eyes. The moments of a long dreamless sleep last about 4 hours.

10 Life Lessons This Cross-Country Move is Attempting to Teach Me

There are a few lessons life has attempted to teach me since my move — all things that I haven’t yet spiced up into a full essay, but deserve to be memorialized by my metaphorical pen nonetheless.

So I present a collection of lessons I’ve learned — and am still learning — in the last 3 months.

What Will Your Life Look Like?

Tomorrow marks 3 months.

Three months here, sharing a zip code with Saguaros.

“So how is Phoenix?” a friend asked me over the phone as I sat on my balcony beneath glowing string lights, a pour of raspberry wine in my hand. The sun was setting, painting the eastern mountains with rosy swipes of redemption.

How has Phoenix been these last three months?

What is it Trying to Tell You, if Only You’d Listen?

I went on a date recently. Two glasses of Riesling, pleasant conversation, and a perfectly amicable guy — it was an altogether fine evening.

However, I wasn’t interested in a second date.

Not because of any run-for-the-hills red flags. Not because I didn’t think he was cute. Not because we didn’t get along. I simply — wasn’t interested.

There’s no better way to explain it. No fear-based avoidance of the potential for a healthy relationship. No disdain for commitment that needs a heavy round of therapy to work through. Nothing deeper than the inner sense that a second date just wasn’t necessary.

But, I said yes to getting dinner again with him.

The Other Side of Yes

I’m a No Girl.

In many ways, this is a good thing. I’m able to confidently decline invitations that disinterest me.

“Want to go whitewater rafting?” No thank you, I’m comfy right here on the bank.

“Want to do a shot?” No thank you, I’ll take my liquor with lime juice and Triple Sec, plz.

“Want to try this carrot cake?” No thank you, Harry, I can’t eat gluten.

“Want to go to Broadway?” No thank you, I’d prefer to go to bed.

In many ways, however, being a No Girl originates less from personal boundaries and more from fear. Fear and I happen to be pretty tight; we talk on the daily. Fear has been the primary consultant for many of my life decisions, in fact.

A Song for Growth

A year ago, a friend of mine got a job at a well known tech company. He had been slogging through the interviews, and he finally got an offer. Obviously he deserved it. He was a hard worker, and his attitude for success and life was admirable to say the least. I knew he was beyond qualified.

But at the time, I was on a career path I couldn’t see myself being happy in. I had made the mistake of staying in the industry mainly for the money. Every month in the industry was a reminder of how much I did not want to stay. It created a nasty cycle of overthinking and career angst. Feelings of inadequacy and existentialism rooted themselves deep inside me. I couldn’t focus on anything and was utterly disconnected from the work I was doing.

I admit I wasn’t happy for him.

Grad SchoolKelsey WorshamAugust 28, 2016FeaturedComment