Let’s Get Personal
Perhaps one of the most difficult pieces of being an adult and in a doctoral program is being an adult in a doctoral program, yes? Oh for the life of a traditional-aged school experience, where, for most, life’s responsibilities were limited in comparison. Today, you’re older, wiser, and steeped with professional and personal responsibilities. And some how, you reached the conclusion that despite those responsibilities, there was still room to add the demands of a doctoral program. Fairly incredible if you think about it.
In a future post, I will further elaborate on the importance of evolving from an andragogical approach to adult learning to a heutagogical approach, but today, I’d like to share a general observation on the adult learner’s adaptability in times of crises.
Upholding myself as an example of the “typical” adult learner. Like many of you, I believe I am an individual that takes initiative. I’m rather comfortable and cognizant of my learning needs. I have both personal and professional goals that intrinsically motivate my actions. And on a very basic perspective, I see doctoral education as an opportunity to better discover myself. As a husband and a father, I have family responsibilities. I have a mortgage, a car payment, and student loans to repay. And a job that I love, but demands my time and passion. After a long day’s work, I pick my son up from school, help him with his homework, sit for a few minutes to relax and then up again to make dinner before my wife comes home from her day. After the evening’s events unfolds and some family time and bedtime routine are finished, it’s 9:00-10:00 PM and I find myself needing to be ready to read that first 100 pages of homework, research those peer-reviewed articles and texts, and hopefully make some discussion posting that resembles an insightful contribution – only with thoughts of the bigger assignment due that weekend or on the common occurrence, a passing inspiration of future dissertation research (is this what I’m passionate about most? Maybe.)
And here’s the interesting thing, I think I am my advisor’s worst nightmare. I am relatively disengaged from him. I don’t schedule regular appointments. And quite honestly, while I have yet to experience such a moment, the idea of calling my advisor during a time of medical, academic, or financial crisis probably is at the bottom of my list. It’s not that I come from a generation of non-sharers. Granted, my family model has perhaps taught me, without conversation, that personal matters are personal matters not to be discussed, but shouldn’t my position as a professional advisor help overcome that? After all, I ask people daily to keep me informed and let me help them. This should be a no brainer, right?
Unfortunately, such advice is counter-intuitive to my adult learner identity. I should be able to self-diagnose my own needs, without the help of others, right? I just articulated my initiative. I have the upper-hand in knowing the “other side” of not seeking counsel and the evaluative skills to recognize, not doing so, puts my academic well-being at risk. What it comes down to, I want to control my learning, but I need to learn to trust the humanness in human resources.
So what? Why share this all? The fact is, people need people. I need you, and I think, you need me. Many here are carrying significant burdens and I recognize that while my responsibilities fall into the category of “typical,” they are by no means extraordinary, in a time when we are faced with extraordinary circumstances. Many are losing their jobs, unexpectedly. Many are carrying significant financial burdens. Some are poorly situated to continue learning. On a daily basis, I hear from those who have lost loved ones or who are caring for family or having to consider placing their parents in the care of others. Make no mistake, these are significant demands and stresses on even the strongest, most independent of scholars, and all pose very real risks to your academic well-being. I talk to my colleagues about the survival of the doctoral learner. Cause, that’s what you’re doing, right? You’re surviving to live another day.
On a conscious or unconscious level, I hope you see just how important it is to call on those who have been placed on your journey to help you. You cannot do this alone. Let me say that again, you cannot do this alone. Yes, you are capable, but enabling that capability requires the experiences and expertise of your institution to help you negotiate that learning potential.
So I challenge you (and myself) to look at yourself, take a moment to reflect on your adult learner identity, acknowledge your stresses, and ask for help. Trust, no matter how significant the burden, it lessened greatly by sharing it with another.
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February 11th, 2010 at 5:43 am
Mr. Gehrz:
Are you following me around or what? I can totally identify with everything that you are saying.
In preparation for my upcoming Track III Colloquium, and shortly thereafter, comprehensive exam, you are saying everything that I have been thinking. No longer than yesterday, did I call my advisor, leaving her a message saying that I think I am having a melt down.
Not so long ago, this junture in my life felt so far away. Now, everday, though I verbalize to myself, “I can do this”, I simultaneously ask myself, have you lost your last vessel of mental capacity or what? What possessed you to think you could do this? Simplistically put; I’m scared and fearful!
Aside from this I am TIRED! I’ve been in academia since September 2002, without a vacation or a break; year round. I have ful responsibility for a now ten (10) year old granddaughter; work full time, and maintain a household. Need I add that I am a single grandmother, who, apart from that has an 80 year old mother, who I need to keep check on throughout the week. She’s got doctors’ appointments galore, and can also “do it myself”.
Now, the end is almost near, and I would be the first to admit to you that I need HELP, and have difficulty asking for it.
Thanks for your post. I think it was the inspiraton I needed to keep it moving. It made me realize that I am not on this journey, alone.
Frances Freeman
February 11th, 2010 at 11:35 pm
Dear Mr. Gantz,
Thank you for taking the time to write this letter. I am an adult learner in my first class. I will be attending the Jacksonville Colloquia Feb. 25- 28th. I thought it was an online course and had no idea I had to travel to even though it does say Jacksonville. I pictured everyone on their computers in a room named Jacksonville and I was wondering how this was going to work. That was funny, I know. So, my first obstacle is getting to Jacksonville, Fl. I have learned over the years to be thankful for the obstacles because they make us strong and allow us to stand in the face of oppostion and disappointment.
The adult learner knows that the things we cried about last year we laugh about today and those things we thought would have killed us five years ago we smile at today. The sayings are true, the strong survive and tough get going when going gets rough.
At the time I decided to take this path of my life journey I was battling a depression so deep I couldn’t see the sun shine on the sunniest day. I heard a man speak and he was talking about a business but it touched my life personally. He said “nothing is stagnant, it is either growing or it is dead. We recognize growth but the problem with death is that it can occur so slowly we don’t notice it until it is upon us”. That was my wake up call. I was killing myself dwelling on the lemons life had dealt me and I knew better.
I knew to add sugar and make lemonade. I knew to take salt and make margaritas but it was so easy to practice self-sabotage and waste away to nothing. I began to remember my dreams. I began to remember the book I wanted to write “From GED to PhD”. I began to take small steps each day getting out the bed. The power was within me. I found the courage and the strength to confront myself.
That man, Holton Buggs, helped me when I couldn’t help myself. You are right, we all need one another. I will continue to seek all the help I can get. I also encourage you to continue to reach out to us and to receive that which you give. Thank you again. May you and your family and your colleagues be blessed in all your endeavors.
Sincerely,
Rochelle Robinson
February 12th, 2010 at 9:57 am
Frances and Rochelle,
Thank you so much for furthering the post. You both provided valuable insights that make this issue all the more “real” for me.
How interesting that it is our fears and obstacles that perhaps help propel us forward. I am reminded of Robert Kegan’s words, “This is a long, often painful voyage, and one that, for much of the time, may feel like mutiny than a merely exhilarating (and less self-conflicted) expedition to discover new lands” (p. 275).
Thank you both for your inspiring stories and taking the voyage with us.
Jon
Reference:
Kegan, R. (1994). In over our heads: The mental demands of modern life. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press.
March 5th, 2010 at 12:00 pm
Just amusing, and the personal stance might need to shift when it occurs. Perhaps not, we shall see.
March 5th, 2010 at 12:04 pm
To Mr. Gertz and Miss Rochelle,
Thank you for your inspiring writing. My advisor is Dana Forbes, and I just found this web link to academic advisors. I just attended the Jacksonville Track II and am overwhelmed by the homework I had assigned. I am afraid that I cannot do the work and felt humiliated by the professors during the weekend. That is not my normal experience; I am 68 years old, outspoken, and a very good student. It is a struggle for me sometimes to be motivated to do an assignment, yet I do forge onward.
I like what you said, Rochelle, about putting sugar in the lemonade and a little salt on the Margarita. It is simply taking one step at a time. Somehow we will complete this journey — and I am determined to complete it. I really do want to see Ph.D. after my name!
Rochelle, I cannot wait to read your book. I just purchased Wally Lamb’s book from the women at York Correctional Institution. It is an incredible work by women who attended his writing workshop every two weeks for several years during their incarcerations. Their stories are inspiring and are motivating to finish the race.
Thank you for your inspiration, Jon, and to you, Rochelle. I wish you strength on your journey and inspiration from your soul.
Elizabeth