The road is long

[Revenant]

I'm a first generation college student. I have four parents and step-parents and not a college degree between them. I fell in love with academia as an undergrad, particularly in medieval history, especially studying abroad for a year in Ireland.

The first application cycle was a wild shot in the dark. I kept to the northeastern United States, wanting to be close to my family and my then-boyfriend-now-husband, who has a steady but immobile job as a firefighter/EMT in his hometown. I lucked out and got one acceptance to the University of Connecticut for their MA in Medieval Studies. So I went direct from undergrad to graduate school.

While at UConn I knew I wanted to go for the doctorate, and I got my first taste of Ivy League splendor at conferences in Yale, Columbia, and UPenn. I aimed high for the second application cycle and utterly struck out, not even being accepted for a PhD by UConn itself. Again, I had kept to the NE US, but thought that if I applied to enough Ivy Leagues that at least someone would accept me. I even had a potential advisor rooting for me at Yale, but it wasn't enough.

I was crushed. Not only was it rejection from something like 8 schools (all those fees!) but I hadn't done anything outside of school in my entire life. I picked up my EMT certification (highest in my class!) and worked as both a paid and volunteer first responder for a year. Going to academic conferences with no backing institutions felt awful, but I knew I had to network and get serious about finding someone to advocate for me. I applied to only two schools, both within a few hours of our recently purchased house, and got into one with a fellowship.

I thought the way was clear, but it turns out that the school was an awful fit for me. (No details for obvious reasons.) My advisor went from sweet as sugar to completely aloof and unavailable, often working overseas and unreachable by email, and when they returned they declared me incompetent and barely in the program by a thread. The department was obsessed with their alums obtaining tenure, despite putting out as many PhD's as nationally available tenure-track jobs every year, and ridiculed anyone who took an interest in a different career path. It also sounds petty, but everyone in my department was constantly dressed formally, manicures and heavy makeup, and since I biked to school and am a grungy metalhead I always felt an awful fit for my cohort. On top of that (or because of it), I suffered the worst expressions of anxiety and depression that had plagued me since teenage years, and finally realized that my doctorate at the school was untenable.

So I left. Man, did it hurt to leave that fellowship on the table, but I worked as hard as I could for a year and a half, and it was apparent that things just weren't going to resolve themselves. 

I worked for a while at a museum in the same city, but when I got pregnant I had to give up the long commute. I began teaching as an adjunct at two different community colleges, and since my son conveniently came at the end of the spring semester I was able to go back to work without a hiccup in my employment. For years I burned at the PhD I had left behind, while my husband encouraged me to keep thinking of it. History? Art History? Archaeology? Literature? Language? How could I best study my passion of medieval history? I thought it was something I would think about when my son and any other kids were in middle school, not anything close to the present day.

Then Trump got elected. Family members, friends, and neighbors revealed their racist, sexist, anti-immigrant, anti-equality ugly sides. My husband and I started talking about emigrating. We're white, but not Christian, and we're terrified of what this country has become - not who's in power, but the millions who have demonstrated their true beliefs.

"I still have friends in Ireland," I said.

"You could finally get your doctorate in Ireland," my husband said.

"Are you okay with me leaving the country for graduate school?" I asked, astonished.

"Our son's safety is the most important thing."

And thus began my fourth graduate school cycle. 

Due to my once-bitten-twice-shy fear of landing in the wrong PhD program, I applied to one-year MA programs in history at UCCork (my alma mater) and UCDublin (where some other friends also live - also, duh, Dublin). I only did so after contacting potential advisors through email and getting a positive response. My plan was to get a second MA and then, if the fit was right, continuing into the PhD. I applied to Trinity College as well, but didn't hear from anyone so didn't bother applying.

I was astonished to find that my MA advisor at UConn remembered me fondly, as well as two professors at UCC. Awkward as Hel for this American student, both UCC and UCD required ME to upload the LoRs...so I got to read them. I actually cried. My professors were entirely supportive, and specific about my strengths. My former advisor called me one of the top two or three students she'd ever had in her thirty year career! I sent in my applications to UCC and UCD...

...and then got an entirely apologetic, thoroughly interested email from the professor at Trinity who is THE scholar for my sub-sub-subfield (Viking Ireland ethnicity and identity). He had missed my email but found it on a fluke and was completely supportive of my application. However, he suggested I go straight for the PhD rather than waste time on a second Masters. I sent him my thesis proposal, he critiqued it deftly and cleaned up my language, and hoped I would join him as a student! So I sent in my Trinity application, including an application for a hefty fellowship.

And then I got an acceptance email to UCC. And five minutes later, an acceptance email to UCD. With a 5000-euro scholarship. This is the first time in four application cycles I actually have a choice!

Now I'm waiting on hearing from Trinity...and in the meantime, I've applied for a PhD at UCD, thinking what the Hel is the worst that can happen (yes, you can apply to multiple programs at once). The only potential fly in the ointment is that I've done more research and the only way my son can join me on my visa is if I'm in a PhD program and/or can prove that I'm well supported financially outside of the country. My husband is staying at home to support us, so theoretically that achieves the exemption, but if I get into a PhD right away that will cut the Gordian knot of immigration. 

So I'm still waiting it out...but thoroughly thankful that this has already turned out to be a better cycle than the three before.

[Kamari]

This was a cool post to read. It's nice when someone can comfortably talk about mishaps and difficulties in life. Thanks for sharing and giving us all a little sliver of hope.

[MarinaLazarus]

Great post! I'd love to read more in a blog! 

[chupacabra]

Wonderful dose of reality - the ups and the downs. I'm so happy for you and, echoing the comment above mine, would love to read more. Thank you for sharing with such sincerity!

[Revenant]

Well folks...after a total of something like 17 rejections over four application cycles...

 

Not only did I get into my top choice, I was accepted to every program I applied to! This is the first time I've ever gotten to decline an offer.

 

I will be starting a PhD in History at Trinity College, University of Dublin this fall with Seán Duffy as my advisor. Now to wait anxiously for my applied scholarships to come through.

 

Never, ever, ever give up hope!

[AnniKatt]

8 hours ago, Revenant said:

Well folks...after a total of something like 17 rejections over four application cycles...

 

Not only did I get into my top choice, I was accepted to every program I applied to! This is the first time I've ever gotten to decline an offer.

 

I will be starting a PhD in History at Trinity College, University of Dublin this fall with Seán Duffy as my advisor. Now to wait anxiously for my applied scholarships to come through.

 

Never, ever, ever give up hope!

Congratulations! Also, thank you so much for sharing your story.