On The End of Course Work

It wasn't until just the last few weeks that it suddenly struck me--this isn't just the end of my PhD course work; this is the end of course work, period.  I was not psychologically prepared for that.

For as long as I've been in school, it was always with the assumption that there was more class after.  Pre-school was prep for Kindergarten, which was prep for 1st grade, then 2nd, then 3rd, etc and etc.  When I graduated High School, amidst all the fanfare and celebration, it was still in anxious trepidation for college. 

Yes, the end of public education was the end of something big--huge, even--but by no means the end in general.  I was already looking forward to my next classes--bigger, harder, more rigorous ones, my teachers and guidance counselors all assured me.

I had the grades to get into better institutions, but not the motivation (I was then in the midst of my teenage identity crisis)--so I attended my home town community college.  It felt like 13th grade.  Then I went to Puerto Rico--served a mission, a life changing experience, lit within me a fire to seek higher light and knowledge.  So I served with the assumption that I would then finish 14th grade afterwords.

I did.  Got my AA.  Which of course was for the sole purpose of then immediately transferring to get a BA.

Which I also did.  My lit. classes senior year (both in English and Spanish) were so fun, so enlightening, so tantalizing as to what else was out there, that I immediately looked ahead to getting an MA (not that a graduate degree isn't a necessity in this economy anyways).

And then I learned so much during my MA, my mind was blown so many times, that I craved ever more--so upon graduation I immediately set about applying for PhD programs.  Whatever breaks I took between degrees--China, Mexico, summer jobs and real jobs--still there was always this assumption in the back of my mind that there were yet more classes to come.

But no more.  There is literally nothing past the PhD.  I still have exams and dissertations, yes, but no more classes.  This is it.  And ladies and gentlemen, I will not be getting any more degrees.  I have made that conscious decision.  This is the end.

Don't get me wrong, I will always continue to learn.  That will never end, not in this life, not in the next.  In fact, if all this schooling has taught me nothing else, it's how to now learn and research and study on my own without classes.  I dare say that, after all your degrees become dated and your training and coursework obsolete, that this is what college actually trained you for: How To Learn.

You attend college to learn how to not have to attend college.

Now, I'll still be in plenty of other classes, as a teacher, and even learning from my students--but this paradigm whereby I am a student sitting at a desk listening to a professor?  That is over.  It is a tragedy and a relief all at once.  And when I walked out of my final class ever last Monday, it just may have been to the strains of "Don't You Forget About Me."

With a fist in the air like that other Bender of old:

High School's over.