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.
