What do standardized tests really mean? What is their purpose? Why are they necessary? Every educator has witnessed the decline in the rigor of education over the last 30 years. Do you remember a point in your own education where you stayed up all night studying for a test, creating flashcards, making notes, reading the textbook, and collaborating with peers in cram sessions? Do you think students do these same things today? Are they even willing?  The only hints our teachers used to give us were "Read the chapter." I remember once sitting down to read a whole chapter of my Intro to Biology textbook that weighed 15 pounds. I highlighted, I took notes from it, I did the questions at the end of the chapter. I went to the library. Now, students want a video summary of the chapter, so that they don't have to read.


Where are the places that our students live, that allow them the time to focus on studying? In stable households, where a child can devote time and energy to studying. These are generally middle or upper-class households. I was successful in high school and college because I had two working parents who could provide a stable house, a car, utilities, a desk to study at, and the materials I needed. I wasn’t hungry or malnourished, as are many children living in poverty. I wasn’t distracted by siblings screaming and fighting in the background, by a child of my own, or by parents who were in desperate need of money, or they’d lose the family home. Both of my parents were college-educated, and could help me with my homework, and suggest ways to study. Many students these days are not as lucky as I was, but should we not even TRY to educate them in a rigorous fashion? Many teachers have to deal with IEPs, home life problems, gang problems, poverty problems - they feel like they have to prioritize keeping their students alive, and not teaching. And that makes me sad.


As it became required that every student be given a chance at a high school education, some teachers may have become more lax so that students "like them." "Popular teacher, and "hard teacher" aren't words students often mutter together. Many teachers teach things that their students enjoyed, instead of covering the entire curriculum. They began offering study sheets, which helped the students get better scores on their teacher-generated tests. The teacher-generated tests showed no consistency between teachers in the same schools, in the district, or in the state. You knew which teachers had easier tests or were more fun, and you clamored to get that teacher. Teachers found they enjoyed teaching so much more when they didn’t have students complaining about how hard their tests were, so they might have told students what exactly was going to be on the test, allowed an open book test, or even allowed students to take group tests. Is a "good teacher" the one parents and students like, or the one who completely teaches the discipline? I'd like to argue that teachers should be both. Both rigorous, and kind. Both thorough, and thoughtful. Both challenging, and fair. I believe all teachers can meet the objectives of Common Core, while keeping their creative flair.

Teachers, like Jim, who was first mentioned, wish they had a cheat sheet for the test. But in essence, they do. They have the standards. What is going to be on the test is thoroughly outlined. Teachers are free to teach their discipline to the best of their abilities, with their own creative flair, as long as they meet or exceed the bare minimum that Common Core requires. The reason Common Core emerged was because there was no consistency in education across America. Good teachers were frustrated with their students, and began dumbing-down the curriculum. Good students were frustrated by their home lives, peer interactions, and hormones, and put less and less energy into their studies.


Standardized testing points out the gaps in educational quality. Just as a doctor does a blood panel during your yearly physical, and then knows where your levels are at, standardized tests tell us what level our students are at, compared to other students across the country. As Elizabeth points out, “yet we’re not allowed to point out what the problems were,” teachers KNOW where the problems are. We know that students come to our classes unprepared from previous grade levels. We know students transfer from other districts, where they received inadequate teaching. We know students are passed on to the next grade, “because they are sweet,” and not because they are smart. Social promotions are part of the problem - letting a child pass on to the next grade level, even if they didn’t master the concepts, because it seems cruel to hold them back.


I would like to challenge every teacher - Instead of spending your precious teacher-energy complaining about the tests, every teacher in every school should vow to spend all their energy helping these kids pass (as many already do). They should research each lesson in their lesson plan and make it better, by identifying the standard it is meant to teach, and increasing the rigor of their lessons (Make one of your lessons better TODAY. Then, make one better tomorrow. Then one the next day…). They can spend their time helping the entire class, instead of leaving the class sitting and waiting, while the teacher attends to one problem student. Teachers can flip their class, so students can watch lectures at home, and teachers help the students through activities or projects during school. And, teachers can turn to experts to help them make more valuable lessons, deal with students in a way that encourages growth and success, and improve themselves as teachers by reading sites such as edutopia and The Teaching Channel.


I witness so much energy wasted, complaining about the tests. I observe teachers getting burnt out. I feel these students being anxious and frustrated. I see parents angry at the schools. And I see a way to fix this. I worked with The UT Austin. Charles A Dana Center “Professional Teaching Model (PTM).” The premise of the PTM is that teachers collaborate to look at what children should have learned in the previous grade, coming into their class. They identify what the children should learn in this grade. And finally, they assess what children will be learning the next year. Here is a worksheet, that shows how this works. This is an amazing model, because it utilizes teachers as the professionals that they are. It fosters collaboration, and constant improvement. And it accomplishes what we all want - more student success.


If every teacher in every school improved one of their lessons every six weeks, instead of hating the standards, can you imagine the leaps and bounds education would take forward? 

So, is the path out of poverty a path right back into poverty? The likelihood of achieving the tenure-track dream is so small and wrought with emotional turmoil and anxiety, is it worth it to push minority students down this path? They may end up in a worse place – saddled with student loan debt, stuck in an adjuncting position that pays below the poverty level, and without the necessary skills to advance in a non-academic position – than they were before they began “pursuing their dreams.” Is higher education the path out of poverty, or the dream-crusher that mounts added liabilities and wastes precious time? How do you know when higher education is the problem, or the solution?

Everyone who has taught has been there. You have to tell a student that they failed a course, missed a deadline, or may not graduate on time. They may have written a terrible paper, bombed a test, or had an experiment fail. Maybe they did not pass their dissertation defense, and are being kicked out of a program. There are all kinds of horrible letdowns, unsuccessful attempts, and botched assignments that mean you have to deliver some bad news to the student. So, what’s the best way to do this?

Bad news may be defined as “any information which adversely and seriously affects an individual's view of his or her future.” Bad news is always, however, in the “eye of the beholder,” such that one cannot estimate the impact of the bad news until one has first determined the recipient's expectations or understanding. Your understanding of “the bigger picture” may be much different than the student’s perception. I often have students approach me about failing my lab quizzes. They are often upset, because they either haven’t failed anything before, or they feel the quizzes must somehow be unfair. I know my quizzes are hard. I know Biology is hard for a lot of students. But I also know that I have set up my course in a way that a few failed quizzes will not affect their final grades. I drop the lowest two quizzes, and quizzes are worth 10 points apiece, out of 1000 points for the whole course. The student who approaches me may not understand how failing one quiz affects their grades (short answer – it doesn’t).

Before you even approach the student, get your own emotions in check. Being angry at the student, yelling at them, dashing off an email in rage, or dismissing them invariably sets up a showdown, and a possible retaliation by the student. Many students, when hearing bad news, immediately begin thinking about how to go over your head, how the bad news is not their fault, or how the bad news isn’t fair. You might be sad yourself that the student failed your course. You may be disappointed in the amount of effort they put into the assignment. You are allowed to feel bad about giving bad news – but you must be professional when dealing with the student.

I believe that students want, and deserve to hear, the truth. Trying to lessen the bad news by diminishing its meaning isn’t fair to the student. We should tell them the truth, be sensitive to how the disclosure is done, and in supporting the students, assist them in decision making. Don’t lie to them, and don’t be a jerk. Even though it may not feel this way, I believe most students are really good people, who are just trying to get through something major. They don’t know how to do this “college thing.” They may lie. They may cheat. That doesn’t make them evil people – it makes them students. We see this every day; they may only be in this situation once in their lives. And they may make bad decisions that lead to their troubles. Just as telling a lung cancer patient who smoked 20 years that they are dying is hard, and smoking may have led to the cancer, a doctor does not drop the death bomb on them, and walk away (or shouldn’t). Don’t drop bombs on your students without helping them make the next, proper, steps.

Because if you drop bombs on students without helping them to make the next steps, where will they go to find comfort? They may approach their peers. While peers may provide comfort, they may not provide the best advice. The blind, leading the blind. Peers may suggest poor strategies such as cheating, drinking, blowing off steam, quitting, or hacking. None of those will lead to a productive resolution. They may approach family members, who may have no clue how to support them, except get angry for them. They may go to bashing you on ratemyprofessor.com or other internet sites. This may set them up to slander you, or hurt their college careers (or yours!).

Step 1 – Setting up the interview

Bad news should really be given in person. And, in private. One of the challenges that professors face is giving bad news in privacy, but not in isolation. I would NEVER suggest closing yourself in an office or lab with any student. If a student becomes emotional, it can be expected. Students can also become violent, or make claims about the event that aren’t true. I would always suggest conference rooms or the main office, in a room that is not isolated. Make a connection with the student, maintaining eye contact, but not in a position of power. Standing over a student, or making them stand, puts you on unequal footing with the student. With both parties sitting, there is an opportunity and time for for a dialogue to take place.

Step 2 – Assess the student’s perception

Before hopping right to the bad news, assess the student’s overall situation first. This may involve gathering information about their grades in your class, their grades in general, their program requirements, or the school regulations. Asking “what do you understand about your grades so far?” or “what is your understanding of how you are doing in the program?” Be ready for “the sugarcoat,” however. Students often do not realize how bad they are doing. Knowing “the bigger picture” helps you to correct a student’s misperceptions or misinformation along the way. “Student denial” is very real – wishful thinking (about passing), omission of essential details, or unrealistic expectations of passing just because they paid for the course.

I was discussing a student’s potential failure of my course, because of his lack of understanding of English. He told me he was doing well in all his other courses, and mine was the only one he was failing. After further investigation, it turns out he had failed multiple courses, and had been warned by his academic advisor multiple times about lagging behind in his program. As frustrating as it was for me, I had to let him fail. I gave him every opportunity to pass – but not all students pass. It was heartbreaking for me, because I tried so hard to help him. I just could not take it personally, and I couldn’t walk him through school in general. I had 39 other students to attend to in class, and I just could not do the work for him. It’s hard when nice students don’t pass.

Step 3 – Obtaining the student’s invitation

While a majority of students want to discuss how to move on, after bad news, some may not be ready to talk about it. Students sometimes shun information in an attempt to psychologically cope with the information. While I believe the bad information must be delivered appropriately, and in a timely fashion, discussing next steps may need to happen at a further point. It may involve two meetings. But the second meeting must be predicated by your desire to help – if the semester or program is about to end, you need to make this clear to the student. They may have to move on in a timely fashion.

I read an email with the dialogue about a student’s doctoral process where the advisor essentially ATTACKED the student. He stuck a knife in her, and then twisted it. The email was one long rant from an obviously frustrated advisor, and it was cruel. It appeared to be an angry professor hiding behind his keyboard, instead of having a heart to heart with his doc student. It warned the student that if the student didn’t do exactly as he detailed (and then he didn’t detail) the student would never graduate. It was awful

Step 4 – Giving knowledge and information to the student

Warning the student that bad news is coming may lessen the shock and facilitate information processing. Examples of phrases that can be used include, “Unfortunately I've got some bad news to tell you” or “I'm sorry to tell you that…”. As educators, we may skip this step because we feel that student “have done this to themselves.” “I’m sorry to tell you that I detected plagiarism in your term paper.” may seem awkward. But it’s a necessary step. You should also use language that students understand. “Plagiarize” may not be fully understood by the student. “I detected that your term paper was copied and pasted from so-and-so site.” gives a clearer picture of the problem. I’d also avoid unnecessary bluntness. “You plagiarized your term paper, and as a result, I gave you a zero and you fail.” is likely to leave the student angry, and blaming the messenger (you) rather than the action (the plagiarism). We try so hard in education to be succinct in our writing, but this is one case where being brief can be misinterpreted as being terse.

Step 5 – Address the student’s emotions with empathetic responses.

Responding to the student’s emotions is one of the most difficult challenges of breaking bad news. Students’ emotional reactions may vary from silence to disbelief, crying, denial, or anger. I had a student, who upon failing a major test, was sitting in my office, crying his eyes out. He explained that he COULDN’T take this failing grade, or he’d be kicked out of his teacher program. I suddenly saw a flash of anger in his eyes. He accused me of being unclear, not giving him a study guide, and demanded a retake. I pointed him to the syllabus, where the expectations for the class were clearly spelled out. This is another reason to have SUCH a clear, and detailed, syllabus. As new teachers, or teaching assistants, we may not have thought through all the scenarios, and what the consequences can be. Look for good direction about compiling syllabi online, like here, or this superb guide. Having clear policies about how cheating, failing, or retakes are handled is crucial. And students can argue like little lawyers. Talk to members of your department about things they feel are vital at your school.

Step 6 – Strategy and Summary

Students who are provided with a clear plan for the future are less likely to be anxious or uncertain. While they may be upset or angry about bad news, it’s crucial to provide them with their options. Sometimes, the options may not be ones they like – retaking a course, delaying graduation, having a note in their school record – but none of these things mean life is over. It may feel like it is for the student – they may have to face a different career choice, an angry parent, or admitting wrongdoing. You can always steer students towards your campus counseling services, or advise them to meet with their academic advisor. If you are worried about the student harming themselves, you can report to the crisis team on campus.

Many students see an appeal to the department chair as an option. They want to argue, and for you to be wrong. Don’t be surprised – and don’t take it personally. I think it’s important to follow school rules for all students, and give all students an equal opportunity to give your course or program their best effort. When bad news means they have to chart a new course in life, that’s ok. I can’t tell you how many times I have looked honestly at what I was doing, and made a new, improved plan. By being kind, offering options, and understanding the person standing before you, delivering bad news and respecting the needs of the student become easier.

 

***Original posting to Facebook, but since I went into such detail, I figured I'd post it here, with a few more details


This article is in response to an article in the Washington Post entitled "Your kid is being bullied at school - and not in the way you think." The basic premise is that your kid is being bullied into taking standardized tests, because teachers shouldn't be judged by standardized tests. (First, I will admit to being irked by the use of the word "bully" here. If your kid is being bullied, that implies he is being hurt. Your child is not being hurt by standardized tests. If anything, he's being hurt by sub-standard teaching) People have complained about tests since the beginning of tests themselves. Math test hard? Complain about the math test. Writing essays for English make you stressed? Complain about English. Can't remember how to translate a verb? Complain about foreign language. And when someone doesn't pass a test - OF COURSE, it is the test's fault. Note that we never hear complaining by people who are successful at tests.

I've taken, made up, and given tests to just about every level of student. I used to date a guy who taught at a different college than the one I teach at. He didn't get any "course pack" (with pre-made tests) with his textbook, so he used to make all his own tests. They were these essay questions, that sometimes I couldn't figure out what he was asking for. He asked odd, rambling questions, that were difficult to figure out. He asked true and false questions that could have been true or false, depending on how much you knew about biology. He asked fill in the blank questions that he later couldn't answer himself.

His students' answers were terrible. The answers proved the kids couldn't read or write. I used to help him grade, and I would take a stack, and he would take a stack. At first I would laugh about some of the terrible answers. I would be shocked at the poor spelling and grammar. I would be confused. I would be amazed at how the answers showed how little his students knew about anything, much less biology. By the end, I would be in despair and depressed.

At the end, the stack I graded were all F's. The students's answers were wrong. There was so much red, I was horrified.The stack he graded? Everyone got a B or A. He just felt bad for them, and wanted to take into account that they were having a rough day, didn't write well, couldn't spell, or just put the wrong word "by mistake" (because he knew what they meant).

I get it that people see the bad in standardized tests, because they want to focus on the bad. I believe, however, that standardized tests give us real information, and diagnose a huge problem in education these days. Instead of believing students or teachers are the problem, I think it's the fault of people who complain about tests. We are being given the opportunity to learn where the system is broken, and told how to fix it.

If teachers spent half the time learning to collaborate and make the education of their students better, instead of wasting energy and taking the easy way out and giving up, they could fix entire districts. We did it in the one I taught at. Not one of the people in my department EVER said, "This test isn't fair! Let's write about how bad this is!" We said, "If we work together to teach the best, do the best labs, give the best assignments, tutor kids, and prepare them, we'll get more to pass!" And voila - Our passing rates shot up by over 50%. We went from a 38% passing rate, to a 89% passing rate.

If people - students, parents, admin, teachers, and professors - quit complaining, and worked at passing, we couldn't stop the leaps and bounds our educational quality would take. But we all know that won't happen, because some people refuse to take tests as what they are - indications that something has or hasn't been learned. Test bashing is easier than admitting failure. Test bashing is here to stay. And with the advent of social media, people who want to believe testing is all bad, find the verification that is invented to justify their feelings. Just like those who believe vaccines are evil - only believe what verifies "what you already know." I find test bashing to be such a waste of precious energy on the part of students, teacher, parents, and the schools.

Income Inequality seems to be on the tip of everyone’s tongue lately. President Obama spoke about it in his State of The Union Address on January 28th. He described how the middle and lower classes have stalled in their wage potential, and the possibility of getting by, much less getting ahead, seems to have lessened. Also in the news is the plight of adjuncts – those part-time college instructors who teach one or two classes at a university for a small sum and no benefits. This morning, adjuncts at my university were described in an NPR story, “Part-time Professors Demand Higher Pay; Will Colleges Listen?” The story goes on to describe how “professional adjuncts” – those workers who hold a graduate degree in their field, and who teach as needed at one or several higher education institutions, as their full time job – are essentially making minimum wage, or less. The plight of professional adjuncts is often a sad tale – often we read about how they struggle to make ends meet, selling plasma on the side to supplement their income, Margaret Mary Vojtko who died destitute at the age of 83 as she taught French for 25 years as an adjunct at Duquesne University, to this self-proclaimed “adjunct whore” who describes herself as doing tricks each semester to make ends meet. The horror stories abound. But how did these horror stories come to fruition?

I must first divulge my own experiences as an adjunct. I enjoyed my position as a non-major, adjunct biology instructor for 6 semesters at my university. I taught large, stadium-style lectures for classes of 100 to over 300 students each semester. I enjoyed working with these students, even though there were a lot of them, as they worked through the general education requirements of their degree plan. I spent three contact hours a week – either two classes of an hour and a half every Tue/Thur, or three classes of one hour every Mon/Wed/Fri – lecturing, using classroom technology, answering questions, helping the students find videos of concepts they didn’t understand, helping students with campus problems, or just counseling students on problems I could help with, be it personal or academic. Outside of class, I had to order textbooks, sit on review committees, collaborate with other lecture professors, do grades, answer emails (and with 300 students, that’s a TON of email) and make copies. I earned less than $1000 per credit hour for the course. After taxes, for one semester, I would see $399 deposited once a month, five times, into my direct deposit bank account. Take home for one semester of work - $2000.

Now here is where I differ from the adjuncts that are often described in the depressing stories you hear about these people with advanced degrees living on welfare and food stamps – I have a full time job. I work at the university already, as a Biology lab Coordinator. 40 hours a week, I work with teaching assistants, supervise 640 lab students a semester, order supplies, write curriculum, do learning management software for the course, and keep a bustling Biology lab exciting and fun. In between writing curriculum and being a single mom who just earned a doctorate, I love to teach a class or two. Most of the classes that are offered to adjuncts are the general education, lower level courses in the 100 or 200 range. I taught the lowest level of Biology course there is offered at this university – the one taught to general education, non-majors students. I know people who adjunct who teach the freshman English classes, the non-major History courses, even Physics! I also have my name and resume in the pool at six other universities/colleges for these types of adjunct positions. I think adjuncting is fun! It allows me to do something I find enjoyable – teaching. But, there’s been no adjunct teaching positions available in my department for the last three semesters, because of grant fluctuations and course load changes for professors. Thank god for my full time job.

Adjuncting was NEVER meant to be a full time job. That is the exact reason adjuncts, who are “professional adjuncts,” are in the position they are today. Adjuncting is a part time type of position, meant for people who are professionals in other full time jobs, who essentially “pick up a shift” here or there. They are like substitutes, who are called to fill in when a full time, tenure tract faculty gets a huge grant and the department needs someone to fill in. The people who wish adjuncting was a full time profession are sadly mistaken, and I believe will continue to suffer if they keep trying to push to make adjuncting a full time job with benefits and security. Just as I feel the minimum wage employee at Walmart or McDonalds is futile in fighting for this type of job to support them and their families (these fast food jobs were meant for teenagers who needed part time work, not for someone needing to support a family) – I feel the plight of the adjunct is useless. Someone who has the basic skills to man the fryer, stock the shelves, or teach the most basic of college courses will continue to earn part time employee pay, for low-level, part-time created jobs. Adjuncting is not a career, adjuncting is the burger flipping of higher education.

Now please, don’t think I’m dissing on adjuncts. I know how hard, stressful, and overwhelming adjuncting can be as a job. When you have students taking intro courses, they can be the most needy students – the ones who may be taking your course while also taking basic math because they can’t do math, taking basic reading, because they can’t read, or just aren’t cut out for college. You may pour 30 hours a week into one course, to do the justice to your students that you feel, and I felt, they deserve. But the honest truth about adjuncting is that there is no security to it as a profession, it’s low paid work meant for people who have other full time jobs, and it’s something that I would advise ANY person who is getting a graduate degree and plans to go teach “because they love it” to stay away from. Go into secondary education and teach high school students. Find a job at a company that you can do professional development or job training. But if you get your grad degree and plan to “just go teach” instead of having a research agenda that is good enough to get you a tenure track position (and I almost guarantee you are not in that top 5% in your field who will be offered a tenure track job), then you are going to find yourself unhappy, unemployed on a whim of the finances of higher ed institutions, or forced to move somewhere you don’t want to live, working at a university no one has ever heard of. The truth of the matter is that a $80,000 a year job that you don’t have to move for, that allows you to teach a subject you love, with benefits and security, is a fantasy. 

And as long as “professional adjuncts” are offering themselves on the altar of higher education in hordes, the market for them is not going to change. Only when ALL adjuncts decide to pursue other job opportunities, that are full time, with benefits, and security, and no one wants those adjunct positions anymore, will higher ed pay more for them. Supply and demand. The brutal truth of education as a business.

This post is inspired by a sermon from Joel Osteen called “Stay in the Game.” You might not be in grad school, but I think this applies to life as a game, as well. It doesn’t take a lot of faith to stay in the game when things are going our way. Many times along the way, I considered grad school (and life) as a game. Completing my dissertation, and getting a PhD was a win/lose type of situation, or at least it was for me. If I had given up, I would have lost at the game. Looking back, if I had effortlessly completed the classes and the dissertation, with no bumps, bruises, or challenges, that prize, being Dr. Hollingsworth, wouldn’t mean as much to me. If the grad school game were easy, it certainly would not have taught me all the lessons it did.

It’s easy to lose our passion when we’re hurt – our advisor is critical, a colleague does us wrong, an experiment doesn’t work, our families aren’t understanding of the pressure, the program changes to become harder, the environment on campus becomes negative or nasty, or we flat out feel the pain of stress pressing down on our lives. It’s easy to begin the negative talk. “This program is stacked against women. This research doesn’t mean anything. My experiments don’t matter. My advisor is a jerk. My committee has it out for me. They don’t like me. I chose a bad advisor. This program is doomed.” This negative talk is making excuses for why we MIGHT fail, and prepares us to shield our emotions, in case we do fail.  Shake off the pity, and get back in the game.

Some students make excuses to sit on the sidelines. You can still play, even in pain. “I’d rather be in the game in pain, than sitting on the sidelines watching.”

This is where the game became personal for me. Through my entire grad school career, I was having massive surgeries. Any one of them would have been reason to give up. In February of 2008, both of my retinas blew out. I had over 20 eye surgeries, the last two of which they removed my eyeballs, and scraped them out, and filled them with fake fluid. One of these surgeries was right before I was supposed to take a final. The other kept me from starting class for three weeks. Throughout all of these surgeries, I never once thought of quitting my program. I always was thinking “How can I get back to school, so I can get on with my life?” There were days I couldn’t see well, and my father drove me to work. There were other days where I laid face down on the floor in my office, waiting for my pain meds to kick in, so I could get back to writing. The last of my eye surgeries was January 11th, 2011.

Almost a year went by of me feeling horrible physically. I didn’t move a lot, because I was scared to hurt my eyeballs. I was depressed, I felt awful, but I stayed in grad school. It was the one thing that gave me solace from the pain. I loved the group of women I worked with, and was in class with, and they provided me with so much support. Reading and writing were two things I could do, despite my physical maladies. I bandaged up what was hurting, and I stayed in the game. I said, “I may be hurting, but I’m still here. I may have been knocked down, over and over, but I’m in this to win this, and I won’t quit.” In December of 2011, I had a massive abdominal surgery that left me in chronic pain, pain that persists until today. I’ve had surgery many times since that first one, for kidney stones, for a bowel obstruction, and for the wound that refused to heal.

At this point, it would have been easy to become bitter. I could have blamed my failures on my pain, my body, or other people. I didn’t. I let people know when I was hurting so bad I couldn’t complete assignments, but I never asked to not do the assignment. Sometimes I needed a week extension, sometimes I was past the due date, but I made up my mind to never quit. I saw some people in my program that were so sour, who wanted other people to be unhappy with them. They tried to bring others down. The ladies I surrounded myself with, however, were my rock. I could have hung out with the complainers and joined their pity party. There were definitely always people around me who were quick to grumble, whine, and nit-pick, to say why they couldn’t do this, to make excuses. I will admit – I did let these negative folks into my head a few times. And after I would talk to them, I would feel like I was run over by a bus. I had to actively choose to smile at these people, offer them a word of encouragement, and then go back to my group of girls who cheered me on. If you surround yourself with criticism, self-pity, bitterness, anger, hatred, and discontentment, don’t be surprised when that weighs down your soul. Get back in the game, and find your cheerleaders.

The best thing to do when you hurt is to go help someone else in need. You sow the seed to change your own situation. This is why I love to teach. No one would have faulted me if I had given up. I was injured, but I never left the game. When times were tough, and nothing was going my way, I was still good to the people around me. Even when my eyeballs or my guts hurt, I still treated my students well. And they knew that I loved what I was doing, and many approached me and told me that they were inspired by the fact I never gave up. This world has a great reward for people who are faithful in the tough times. My graduate school experience resulted in me winning the game, because I never gave up, even when it was rough. Because I have paid it forward, by helping students be successful, by cheering on my group of girls, and by giving my work my all, I won that game. Now, I’m on to the next game, The Superbowl that is my life.

I refuse to just exist. I will live. If I had quit, what would I have done? Become disabled? Planned my funeral? That wasn’t even an option. Even when I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to do on my own, I could still offer friendship, hard work, and dedication to the people around me. When you put yourself in the right position, when you coordinate your game plan so that you are in success’s path, that’s when the universe pays you back. You position yourself for good karma. I never stopped searching out new friends, looking for new opportunities, and searching for ways to get past my pain. Grad school was never meant to end a person, even though it may feel that way. It’s meant to be a beginning. An awakening of your spirit, a challenge to your mind, the seed of your dreams. It allows you to have double what you had before.


Nobody knows the battles you fight when you take on this program. When you defy the odds, when you play despite the pain, the most powerful force in the universe breathes in your direction. You may not be able to do what you used to, but the wind fills your sails, and you stay in the game. Just being here, that took an act of faith. Part of the game of academia is its critical nature. It will crush you, if you let it. It’s easy when people are criticizing your ideas to feel as if you are the one who has it all wrong. Eyes on the prize, stay in the game. Keep the game ball moving forward, run with your ideas, allow them to blossom, and take on that fight. No one knows your battles, but everyone knows that you can’t win the battle if you don’t show up in the first place.


My biggest and best quality is the fight I have in me. I never give up. I keep on going, because I love what I do. I allow others to achieve their dreams, and I can’t do that from my bed. I need to be in that game. I need to be a positive role model for my son. I needed to fight.


People can’t look at me and know that I’m in pain. I don’t look sick, even though I’ve been diabetic 30 years and have had all those surgeries. I’ve had people tell me “You don’t look sick. I had no idea,” or “You seem so happy! I had no idea you were in pain!” It’s one thing to go through a struggle that everyone knows about, or can view you going through. But my struggle is all inside me. I struggle with my feelings, with my body, and with figuring out who I am. Despite my pain, I persist. I go to work, I’m kind, friendly and compassionate, I help everyone I can, and I never give up. There is no way I could sit back, nursing my wounds. I’m hurting, but I’m still here. I can still smile, and be kind, even if no one knows what kind of horrible pain my body is in. If I can do this, I have no doubt that other women can get through the game of grad school, too. Play on, despite the pain.