Over the last week or two, I’ve been having second thoughts about my decision to go to grad school full-time in the fall.
I question whether I should be going to school or working. I had been planning to find a teaching job in our new town and was actively job-hunting. Then on the morning of Saturday, January 31st, I was reading a book about a linguist who had some exciting adventures and I commented that sometimes I wished I could do something like that. Don practically jumped on me and told me that I could. He had noticed that the university he was planning to attend had a linguistics program, so he showed me the website. Finding that the application deadline was February 15th (which actually happened to be a Sunday, so I wasn’t sure whether to consider the deadline Monday the 16th or Friday the 13th), he proceeded to start ordering my transcripts (no small task–I’ve attended five post-secondary institutions, so I have to spend a small fortune whenever I need official transcripts for anything). Quite unexpectedly, I found that I was applying to grad school, something I’d contemplated doing many times, but never seriously. I worked hard and managed to get all the application materials together by the deadline.
Not long after submitting my application, I gave up on the idea for financial reasons. I didn’t think we could afford to live with both of us in school full-time. I figured that it would be interesting to see if I got accepted, but even if I did, I wouldn’t go. However, I also decided that I would make a good faith effort in my application so that if I wasn’t accepted, I couldn’t wonder if I would have been accepted if I had only tried a little harder. So I contacted the linguistics graduate chair and the secretary for the program and scheduled a visit. I ended up postponing my visit as I had a terrible cold (and I considered not bothering to reschedule, but went back to that good faith effort thing), but I made it up there at the end of February, during my mid-winter break.
On the way there, it was one of those beautiful blue sky days when it seems like the world is full of possibilities. In the car, I did some mental math, considering our soon-to-be reduced housing cost, the fact that we would be downsizing to one car, that we would spend far less in gas because we would be walking/biking/riding the bus to campus, the amount of financial support we could expect from the university, the possibility of getting provincial and federal grants, and the cost of tuition and decided that we could afford for us both to be in school full-time, though it wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury. So I went in to meet the graduate chair and some current students with the thought that this was actually a possibility, and with Peter in tow (Don had a meeting with his future supervisor, so by default, I got to take Peter). I felt very welcome. People connected with the program arranged free parking for me in a very convenient on-campus lot, took me out to lunch, asked me questions, listened to me, showed me around the building, didn’t seem to mind that I had a 4-year-old with me, and let me sit in on a graduate course in linguistics taught in French (although I applied for the program taught in English). I was proud of Peter; he was very well behaved (he quietly looked at pictures in a book for the 45 minutes we sat in the course; I left before he got restless). As I walked through the old academic building and across the campus, I thought about the fact that I could belong there, I could be a student there in the fall. It was an exhilirating feeling. Not long after, I was offered admission to the program, and I excitedly accepted.
From that campus visit until the last week or two, I was on a linguistics high. I read a couple books, researched on the internet, joined a couple organizations, went to a couple conferences at the university, and just generally had linguistics on the brain. Now the high is wearing off and anxiety is setting in. I’m sure it’s quite normal to be nervous with all the changes that will be taking place in my life so soon–leaving the job I’ve had for three years, moving to a new city (in another country, to boot), and going back to school for the first time in six years. I just keep thinking that it’s not too late to change my mind. It’s not too late to call the school board that offered me a position on their occasional teacher list (from which they hire their permanent teachers) and tell them I’ll work for them after all. It’s not too late to back out of going to school.
One of the reasons that continuing to teach is appealing is because I feel like I haven’t yet had the teaching experience I was hoping for. After completing my B.Ed., I subbed for a year in Alaska, got pregnant and then stayed home with my son for a year and a half, and now I’m wrapping up my third year of teaching high school French in Detroit. Subbing was good experience before I got a permanent teaching job, but my current job hasn’t been what I wanted it to be (and I’ll leave it at that for now). If I left teaching now, I would always feel like I was never a success as a teacher. I also think I would prefer to teach at the elementary level. Three of my four pratice teaching placements were in elementary schools and I enjoyed working with those younger kids.
Another reason is finances. I haven’t seen the district’s pay scale, but I estimate that the amount of money I’d make as a teacher would be about four or five times the amount I’d have left from the university’s funding after paying tuition. It’s a huge difference. If I were in school, our financial situation would be similar to the past three years (in which I’ve been teaching and my husband was a full-time undergraduate student)–making ends meet and slowly whittling away our debt, but not saving much or making big-ticket purchases. There are certainly much worse ways to live, but I’m not sure I want to do that for another six years (potentially, if I went for a Ph.D.). I feel like parts of my life have been on hold for three years, and it’s been rough. We’ve put off having another child because we couldn’t afford it. We’ve barely saved anything for retirement (I know it’s a while away, but I do want to retire comfortably someday). Don and I did go on two cruises, but only because of the major sacrifice we made when he worked in Alaska for five months and Peter and I stayed here. The only family vacation we’ve had was visiting my parents at the cabin they rented in northern Michigan last summer. If I were working, we could afford to finally pay off our debts, save some money, have another child, go on fun vacations, buy a newer car, and more. Not that I want to sound all greedy or anything, but it would be nice to have a little more money.
Don has consistently encouraged me to go back to school, because he says he knows it’ll make me happy. I love him for that–he cares more about me being happy than how much money I’m bringing home. I would love being a student. I enjoy it and I’m very good at it. When I imagine life as a student, especially with Don a student at the same time on the same campus, it seems wonderful, almost too good to be true. But the reason I never applied to grad school before is because I didn’t know where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do. I still don’t. It seems risky to commit to going to school full-time, to give up the income I could have potentially made, when I don’t have a clear goal.
On the one hand, the academic life seems attractive. Doing research, teaching, attending conferences, being respected, having my own office with overflowing bookshelves and my diplomas on the wall–it would be cool to be a professor. I like the energy and intellectual stimulation of the university environment. I think I am entirely capable of earning a Ph.D. and that’s one possible path. However, the university I will be attending doesn’t offer a Ph.D. in linguistics, so I would have to change disciplines. There are several possibilities, with education being the most likely.
On the other hand, I could be quite happy teaching and it would probably cause less stress on my family. I would feel more comfortable taking time off work to have another child. After Don graduates and finds a job, I could maybe work part-time or homeschool my kids (something that truly interests me, but does not seem like a real possibility while Don’s in school) or open up a small private school. If I had a Ph.D., it could be a challenge for Don and me to both find employment in the same place.
Okay, so I’ve been accepted to a master’s program. I haven’t committed to going through a Ph.D. here. I could just spend two years to do the master’s, then go back to teaching if I so desire. True. But if all I were going to do is a master’s, I’m not sure that the master’s in linguistics is the best choice. The university offers an M.Ed. with a “multiliteracies and multilingualism” focus that looks very interesting. Not only that, but they offer it part-time in the evenings and over the summer, so working teachers can earn it. It takes a year longer to do it part-time, and you don’t get funding from the university, but you’re making a full-time income at the same time so you still come out way ahead financially. So why don’t I do that? I’m thinking about it. I didn’t know about it before I applied for the linguistics program (as I explained, it was a rather impulsive decision, and I didn’t research other options).
So that’s pretty much where I’m at. I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to rush into a decision and regret it later. The positive thing is that they’re both good options. I don’t think that either going back to school or working would be a “wrong” decision. I’m just not sure which is the better decision.
