Friday, November 15, 2013

Smart

There are a lot of things that I am good at.  I can knit; I can sew.  I can make a mean meatloaf.  I can whine with the best of them.  I can read through course catalogs for colleges/universities and get a good idea of all the policies and procedures the first time through.  I can down a pint of Ben and Jerry's in no time flat.

But I have never done smart.

Smart was not me, growing up.  Smart was my older sister.  She seemed to effortlessly get A's and B's in school, and was always coming home on this honor roll or that.  Not so much for me.  I didn't like to study.  I didn't really like school, to be totally honest.  So, I didn't do well.  Not in high school, not my first time in college for my BSW.  Only by the skin of my teeth did I pass and graduate.

Then I started working in University settings.  First in Enrollment, then Academic Advising.  I started to appreciate "school".  I understood the learning process more.  The more I understood it, the more I appreciated.  I decided that I should go back to school, to get my Master's.

I am sure that there were some who thought that I wouldn't pass.  I am sure there are some who thought I wouldn't make it all the way through.  I am pretty sure one of them was me.  But I surprised myself; I did more than "good", I did honors good.  Graduated with a 3.78.  Holy Cow!

I was happy with my Master's; I thought it made me stand out on applications and that I was going to go far.  It did make me stand out, but in the past 7 years since I got it, I haven't gone far.  I wasn't doing what I really wanted to do, which was to teach at the University level and be a counselor in a practice.  I wanted to have a greater impact on the world.  I wanted to work with adolescents and young adults who were struggling and not making the best choices when it came to coping.  Because I have been there, and I know what the caring of one or two people can do.

But I thought I wasn't smart enough to do that.  To do that would mean to become a doctoral student, and I couldn't possibly do that.  Right?

With a lot of encouragement from about 5 people in my life, I decided to give it a shot.  I applied.  I sent in transcripts, written statements, letters of recommendation.  I crossed my fingers and waited.  I was called in for Interview Day, a day where you would be interviewed by 2 professors and learn more about the program.  I got a new dress, new shoes, new jewelry.  I wanted to "look" smart.

My first interview, the Professor went on and on about how wonderful my references were, how I had an impressive GPA, that my statement paper was well written.  I perked up.  She made me sound smart.  We talked.  I shared stories; she shared horror stories of her graduate work.  Then she did something that shocked me.  She started talking about things she and I could do, could work on, when I was a student.  She talked like I was already admitted.  I was thrown for a loop.  I was in shock, but I was also euphoric.  This lady, who I had never met before, thought I was smart.  Me.  Smart.

I didn't sleep last night, knowing that I would get a phone call today saying if I was or was not admitted.  I woke up at least every 45 minutes and would think about it for 20 before going back to sleep.  I was scared.  What would it mean if I was rejected?  What would it mean if I was accepted?  Torturous!   

Then today, as I was driving to work, my phone rang. I recognized the number.  It was the school.  I was worried.  My stomach did flip flops.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Megan.  It's Dana from the Illinois School for Professional Psychology.  How are you?"

"Fine, how are you?"

"Great!  I wanted to call to congratulate you on your acceptance to the PsyD program...."

Tears.  Lots of tears.  I had to pull the car over tears.

They think I am smart.  They think I can handle this work, that I have what it takes.  They think that I will make a good doctor.

A Doctor.

Dr. Mueller.

Dr. Megan Mueller.

Smart. 

I can do this. 

I can do smart.