One of the first things I learned this year as a newcomer to the tenure track is that most students do not take advantage of my office hours during the semester. A few drop by on a regular basis to ask questions or just chat, but they are a distinct minority.
During final exams, however, the reverse is true, and even the most recalcitrant seem to find their way up the steep flight of stairs to my little office. They come to seek help on papers and exams, to check on their grade, or to request extra credit -- at least that is what they say they want.
What they are actually seeking, I think, is something more. They ask about the substance of the material or the mechanics of the course, but what they really want to know is how they are going to manage the enormous workload on top of their other responsibilities -- whether it be jobs, extracurricular activities, clubs, organizations, sports, family, or friends. It is no surprise that during exam week many students feel swamped, isolated, and overwhelmed.
I can relate. Not only was I a student not so long ago, but as a new faculty member -- and one who gave birth to a baby during my first year on the tenure track -- I have struggled with the same feelings much of this academic year.
In recent weeks, as I talked with stressed-out students, I expressed empathy and offered studying and coping tips, but what I really wanted to say -- and didn't -- was that some day they would be grateful for the experience. I didn't say that because it wouldn't have helped at the moment. But I do believe that some day, when they have to balance a heavy workload with all of life's other obligations, they may be thankful that they had a little practice confronting such pressures, learning discipline, and figuring out how to cope. I know I am.
This became clear to me as I attempted to negotiate the tenure track, pregnancy, and infancy -- all at once. I was pregnant during the first semester of the academic year, gave birth to my son over winter break, and then returned to teach during the spring without taking a maternity leave. As I mentioned in my previous column, I was able to do so only with a tremendous amount of support and assistance from my spouse, extended family, friends, department, and college.
I credit my experiences in college, both as an undergraduate and graduate student, with teaching me the discipline necessary to cope with these challenges. I vividly recall a brief conversation I had with a professor early in my graduate-school career. I went to her office under the pretense of seeking guidance on a research paper. But it was not the substance of the paper that was troubling me, but rather, as a new graduate student, the difficulties of managing the enormous workload while continuing to fulfill my other obligations.
She must have recognized this right away. After talking about the paper briefly, she asked me how I was doing, apart from the paper. Well, I felt overwhelmed, harried, and unsure of how I was going to manage everything. I was struck by her response. "You're where you should be, not only on the paper, which is going to be fine, but more importantly with everything else. This is why you are here," she continued. "One of the most important things you will learn in graduate school is discipline -- your future as a scholar and everything else you pursue depends on it. Why, after all, do you think they call it a discipline?"
I had never thought about it that way. At the time, discipline seemed like an ugly word, akin to punishment, if not torture, and I was not particularly happy about it. If she had told me then to be grateful, I might have run from her office screaming. Well, probably not, but at least I would have left thinking she was crazy and rolling my eyes once I was safely out of view.
Nevertheless, the conversation has stayed with me. And particularly last semester I realized how right she was. For all my worry and stress, the semester turned out much better than I had expected. It took more than discipline, of course. It also took a great deal of help, but discipline was a major part of the equation. I was forced to construct and stick to a fairly strict timetable in order to manage my four courses, honors seminar, faculty commitments, advising, research, and most importantly, time with my family.
I faced several challenges along the way: how, for instance, to prepare lectures, grade papers, and respond to e-mail messages while balancing a newborn on my lap? While new parents are often counseled to rest when the baby is sleeping, I had to learn to use my son's naptime to get work done that I could not do when he was awake.
I was committed to breast-feeding, which meant that, like many working mothers, I had to find time to pump. The challenge of pumping and preserving milk in between classes was one that I hadn't expected, although I will not review the logistics of it here. Suffice it to say, it took some creative adjustment.
Another challenge I confronted was that my son refused to sleep through the night until the week of final exams. Now, I know better than to believe everything I read and hear, but, desperate for sleep, I relied on books and fellow parents to advise me on when in God's name that blessed night might finally arrive. The answers varied from an optimistic six weeks to a completely unacceptable seven months. Convinced that it would happen sooner rather than later, I tried in vain to coax him to see the benefits of a full night's sleep. But 12 weeks came and went, and still he refused to oblige until the second night of finals week. I like to think he was sensitive to the amount of grading that lay ahead for me.
I know from speaking with other first-year colleagues that each of us has faced our own particular challenges; mine just happened to be pregnancy. But if not that, it probably would have been something else. Some of my first-year counterparts, for instance, commuted long distances. Others faced even more significant personal issues, crises, and dilemmas.
I still harbor the thought that if only I could explain to my students the benefits of learning discipline now, it might somehow make the challenge of finals that much easier to cope with. But I know most would balk at the suggestion that they should somehow be grateful for being subjected to an inordinate amount of work. And who can blame them for finding the notion patronizing, if not ridiculous? When you are in the thick of it, the last thing you want to hear is, "This is for your own good," or "You'll grow from this and learn to appreciate it later on."
So for now I will continue to keep my mouth shut. I may follow my former professor's example of gently suggesting that this is one of the most important things they will learn in college. I just hope that at some point in the future, long after they graduate, at least some will come to that realization on their own. I know I did.
