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Seussing up Grad School

To de-stress from a very long, kind of grueling semester of my first year as a PhD student, I wrote this to capture some of the whackiness of grad school conversations. It’s not perfect, but it made me laugh to write. I wish I had the artistic ability to capture the images in my head as I wrote it, but this will have to do.

Dissertate On, Little Scholar of Mine

It’s time to go!

Pack up your bags.

Grad school awaits,

The committee said yes!

Your application stood out

Amongst all the rest.

An adventure is coming,

Despite the naysayers.

You’re going to go far, kid,

In your quest to be a scholar.

You arrive in the city

(Is it far from your home?),

And stock your pantries

With Vodka and ramen.

The apartment you’re living in

Might be small,

Might be cramped

But living in style

Isn’t in the plans.

Your stipend will grant you

Cheap living at best!

First day of classes.

Don’t be scared,

Don’t freak out.

The professors don’t want your soul,

Until the second semester, that is!

New things to learn,

New people to meet.

There’s no energy to squabble,

So say hi and pick a damn seat!

What will I learn?

You bravely ask the first day.

Why, a great many things!

You will start with some theory

And then add a whole lot more.

Add in some Grassman and Weed Boy, for sure!

You’ll tackle the hereness of here,

And the thingness of things,

And try to decide

If the there there exists,

For the thereness of there

Is a most contested thing!

Don’t panic!

Deep breath!

You can always write a haiku,

Every time you feel stressed.

You’re going to go far,

Little scholar in training.

Unless you start screaming,

Off with her head!

It’s a juggling act from here on out.

Presentations and conferences

And journals to boot!

Just keep passing your classes;

Brain cells have died for less!

Time for the show,

Little scholar of mine.

You have years of such trauma

Ahead in your life.

Just keep going, my dear.

On this quest to be learned

What’s another seven years?

When you can hobnob with scholars,

You’ll see I was right.

One step at a time,

In this twisty academic world,

And dissertate on

As if Foucault was on your heels.

Places to Go Once We Start Walking