'Tis the Season

I have graded all my students' papers, their finals are written, and I have one more official course meeting for my own class. The first semester back in full-time grad school has all but officially ended.

For most students and instructors, this would be a happy moment. But not for me. Not this year. Because lurking now, in just two weeks, and with nothing else to buffer me against them...

I have C O M P S.
(Comprehensive exams: the rite of passage among academics that 'prove' you are ready to begin your dissertation project, which is a whole other level of scholarly trials.) In my case, I will literally be put in a little room (6x6ft), with a writing surface, chair, laptop and a single can light above me. For eight hours, I will write my heart out. THEN, for the following two days, I'll do the same thing in the comfort of my own home. Count 'em: twenty-four hours of testing on everything I've studied in the past seven years.

THEN, early next year, I will have my oral defense of those exams. THEN write a dissertation proposal. THEN orally defend it. THEN write the actual dissertation. THEN orally defend it. And THEN, jump through lots of bureaucratic hoops for publication formatting, signature collection, microfiche-ing and binding, etc.

All so I can say, "That's DOCTOR, shift manager. Thankyouverymuch."

One of my committee members sat down with me to talk about "what kind of questions would really help me move toward" the dissertation project, in addition to testing my mastery of the field. Not thinking of the to-do queue above, but instead about the next two weeks, I answered: "True/false would be swell."

I'm not holding my breath.

Good news is that I have a number of friends who'd like to take me out after the final day of tests, in the hopes that I will--for only the second time in my life--set out to have a drink. (They're actually hoping I'll get drunk, but I point out that because I'm not a big drinker, holiday rum balls give me a buzz.)

The first and only other occasion was a decade ago with my classmates after our group Master's comps. Because I don't like how alcohol tastes (too reminiscent of the cough syrup from my childhood respiratory ills), I sampled a number of daiquiri flavors trying to find one was too fruity or chocolaty to taste the alcohol. By the time the waitress made me choose the least nasty of them, my throat burned, my stomach felt warm, my perception was a bit off and I'm told I sat smiling rosily for no reason. (Sorry no photos that I know of.)

And, beyond that capstone night on the town, it's home to see the family and celebrate the true meaning of Christmas*.

Well-researched holiday wishes to all. hiccup.

*#43 is my favorite: raw emotion AND poor punctuation; this family apparently sent this out with their name on it!