In the process of applying for extra funding for my graduate studies, I'm finding myself again stuck writing a "personal statement" essay, and I can't say that I'm fond of it. Oh, I have plenty of motivation to write the thing - what grad student doesn't want to, say, earn an NSF fellowship and not have to worry about their funding for the next three years? But I'm never comfortable writing an essay that basically demands that I trumpet how wonderful I am. (Dave Barry calls it "strumpeting", which he usually uses to describe what he does in a book tour, but it's basically the same thing.)
I don't mind writing about what I've done in terms of research, or my education, or my nonprofit work last year - that's basically just stating facts. But when it comes time to say, "I'm a wonderful scientist, and I can do better than everyone else I'm competing with, and my project will change the world"...well, I don't really like that. I'm not saying I won't do it - how else would I have gotten a job last year? - but it makes me really uncomfortable. It feels like hubris.
It's possible that this feeling stems from a need for more self-confidence. I'm constantly second-guessing myself on things, even when I'm reasonably sure that I'm right, and being able to write about myself in a confident way doesn't always come easily. I had a hard time with my grad school applications when it came to this, although judging by the responses I got, I must have been doing something right. I honestly don't know where this whole thing comes from, though. I never experienced any discouragement from my family or teachers when I let them know that I wanted to be a scientist - just the opposite, in fact. And when I got to college, I didn't come up against a single instance of anyone trying to discourage me because of my habits or gender or otherwise.
So I'm left wondering where I developed this minor phobia. I love to write, and I obviously love to write about what I do, or I wouldn't be blogging. But I don't like singing my own praises - maybe I feel that my work should be able to do that better than I can. At any rate, I'll sit here and write the damn essay, and it will be great, and hopefully it'll help earn me the fellowship. It's necessary, and it does get results, and as much as I complain about it, I'll still get the thing done. But I won't enjoy it.
(Then again, this could just be a "this is the weekend and I don't wanna work" sort of thing. But seeing as I've been putting off this part of the application for a while now, I'm betting it's more than that. Eh.)
So, it really stinks when you hear news from people you've taken field courses with, and it turns out that not only have they applied to some of the same grad programs that you have, they've been accepted.
And you haven't.
I'd like to be happy for this person, but I am just the teensiest bit bitter to hear about their acceptance (AND paid visit), when this particular grad program has told me that they aren't accepting more than two people in my research area. (Which is the same research area that this person would be applying for.) So, is this person one of the two, or was the program just lying to make me feel better?
This being the same program that said they looked at people "years in advance". Arr. This person hasn't even graduated yet. How can the program have been considering them for that long?
So, the first notice that I haven't been accepted to a graduate school has arrived. To be perfectly honest, I was prepared for this one; I was warned beforehand that competition for funding spots in this department was stiff, and that the profs I was interested in working with might not have space for me. (Actually, I was told that some students are considered for this program years in advance, which I think is completely nuts. What's the point of asking people to apply to your program if you've already handpicked your grad students before they've even graduated?) As it turns out, only two students were asked to join the volcanology group this year, out of what was undoubtedly a large crop of qualified applicants.
It is disappointing, since this would have been one of my best opportunities to get into work in volcanic hazards - at least immediately. I do realize, however, that because I've decided to do a masters first, I can still apply again when I'm ready for a Ph.D. This is, after all, my chance to feel out what I really want to work on, and two years is not a very long time, put into perspective.
I'm also sure I'll find work that I like at the other places I've applied; I've had very generous offers so far (including some smaller institutions that I might actually be happier at than the Big Well-Funded University in question). It's just that...well, rejection is never a good feeling. In fact, it stinks. So I'll stop by the gourmet food place and get myself a nice dinner, pack my bags (again) for my cousin's wedding, and spend the evening watching comfort TV. And then I'll go back to worrying about scheduling the rest of my grad school visits.
There's actually a bright side to all this: I will not have to figure out how to schlep my stuff from the East Coast to the middle of the Pacific or afford rent in the middle of a completely overpriced tourist trap.
I've been contemplating, for some time, starting a blog about my experiences as a female geologist (and continuing geology student). I've recently discovered a number of other geology and science-related blogs, and I find their discourse stimulating, informative, and in many cases enlightening. It's useful to me as a student to have insight into the thoughts of professors and older scientists, and it's often easier to discover it through print than conversation, since my interactions are usually limited to my undergraduate department, conferences or the occasional research collaboration. All of these are useful, but I feel like there's very little discourse among students about what it's like to be in the formative years of your career.
FemaleScienceProfessor's blog is one of the most interesting to me, since she describes not only the internal workings of an academic science department but the experiences she's had as a woman and a scientist. I've been lucky so far to never encounter the kind of chauvenism and callousness she's had to deal with, and perhaps that's a result of my choice of geology for a field of study. She's never really specified what field she works in, and I don't want to try and guess because I'd rather not start out with any preconceived notions of what I might be getting myself into. I hope that I'll be fortunate enough to avoid those difficulties, though I'm not so naiive that I believe that will never be the case.
At any rate, I'm currently working (quite happily) for a non-profit geoscience organization where I get to help promote geology, but I'm very eager to continue my studies in graduate school, and to that end I'm deep in the throes of graduate school applications. I'm finding that I alternate between enthusiasm for the prospect of starting the next phase of my career, and total disgust for the amount of crap I have to deal with just to complete an application. Every time I turn around there's another form that has to be signed, letter to be requested, essay to write, or transcript request to pay for and send in.
The transcript requests are what really annoy me. Out of three schools and the GREs that I have to get transcripts or scores from, only ONE school doesn't charge for a transcript request - and that's the community college! I understand that these institutions need money to operate, but isn't the money that I paid to TAKE these classes in the first place enough to cover postage and the cost of a few pieces of paper with official stamps? The GREs are especially galling. I only had to pay more than a hundred dollars to take the damned test in the first place - on ridiculously outdated computers, no less - and it costs me another $15 every time I need a copy of the scores. Ridiculous. They're MY scores; I earned them. I paid to take the classes and the test. It strikes me as slightly petty to charge students an additional fee simply to have access to something that rightfully belongs to them.
Anyway, the application slogging continues; I hope to be done with them before the New Year rolls around. Two down and four to go - thank goodness that all of them are online, at least partially. (And I have to wonder who gets the processing fee that goes along with some - though not all - of the applications. If it's being used to pay for printing all the paperwork I'm submitting, and to pay the salaries of the people who have to process and file it, then I suppose it's appropriate that I get charged. I won't begrudge them that.)
Then, I suppose, the waiting game begins. I was lucky enough as an undergraduate to be accepted early admission to my college of choice, so I didn't have to complete multiple applications and agonize about which ones were going to result in acceptance letters. I guess it's my time to give up the blood and sweat I didn't pay out the last time.
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