Harvard? Grad School? What the heck?
It began last spring or early summer when I began to entertain the idea of a graduate degree in education. It was before we started looking for a house and I was rather itching for a new project (which the new house has since scratched. Thanks.). I looked at the HGSE website and grew tremendously excited about the idea, not exactly of Harvard, but of the degrees they offered there and the courses of study the school had to offer.
Then, life went on and I think I tossed out the papers I had printed, though they still could be in some education files somewhere at home in Snohomish (Ha! Projects.). Essentially I discarded the idea in favor of the belief that Harvard was just too far away, in all the major aspects: It was across the country and my life and family are here in the West; it is ghastly expensive and we just bought a house and have two kids in college; I am not the grade-and-GRE girl, never have been, and Harvard leads the way in ranks, which makes my chances of getting in quite incrementally small.
But two things happened, within days of each other, or perhaps within the same day, and it is these two things that have led me to my interest in Harvard (or shall I say, an Ed Degree altogether).
The first was a dream. Yes, literally. I was dreaming. I woke up that Wednesday or Thursday morning with something of a premonition in my mind. It was comforting and I didn’t care to disturb it and so I told no one what had unfolded in my head in the breaking hours of a cold SW Alaskan morning. In my dream I was at a school. In my dream it was clearly and unequivocally a college although it looked more like the Italian town of Spoleto. Somehow I knew it was Boston, I kept referring to it as Boston. Someone in the dream told me it was Boston and I was a bit surprised. Why would I be dreaming of Boston?
But I suppose the attachment makes some sense when I say that not long before I woke up I had a dream-conversation with a person whom I believe to have been my mother. It went like this:
Me: This is… Harvard.
That was it. And the way I said “This is Harvard” wasn’t a question; it was a realization. Her reply was exactly the same thing, with more emphasis, as if she were saying: Affirmative. This is Harvard. I had no idea what to make of it all.
Then, the next night, or that night, for nights run together here in Pedro Bay, I was sitting around reading Facebook posts and feeling as though my tether on my intellectual life was growing frail and about to falter. With such a tenuous tie to intellect I posted these two statements:
There seems to be nothing to say tonight. Perhaps that is a sign that I should listen, instead of speak.
I want to open my own school.
I expected nothing from either of them, as it is so rare that anyone besides my husband comments on anything I put up on the wretched site. But comments I did receive, and earnest ones at that. So earnest, in fact, that I took them for a good omen and have not looked back since.
Now, twenty-one days later, Harvard has propelled me to join mailing lists, read blog posts, begin research, and begin studying for the GREs. Ugh. Thanks, Harvard. But it has also prompted a certain amount of pragmatism, as I really don’t see myself a) moving to Cambridge and b) getting in.
So optimism + pragmatism = New School.
However, that is fodder for a future entry. Tonight I have analogies and linear geometry to study. Toute suite!