6 lessons I learned in grad school
writing is hard, studying effectively is harder, and no one is good at the same exact things
Hi friend,
Today, I’m back with 6 more lessons I learned during graduate school. Here are a few previous installments in this little miniseries:
—> The original 6 things I learned
—> 3 major things I learned as a grad student
Today, I’m diving into “life lessons” that are considerably more niche to the academic experience, and which continue to shape my life and habits today.
Let’s get to it!
ONE
Academic writing is really hard work.
It’s supposed to be! Writing is the translation of messy, intangible neurons firing in your brain into words that you, and other folks, can read and understand. That’s hard work.
It gets even harder when your task is not only to be understood by other people, but to be convincing. Compelling. Meaningful. It’s a daunting task, and it’s at the heart of most academic work in the humanities.
When I was writing my dissertation, I often sighed and said out loud to the silent library or dark home office around me: wow this is so hard.
And in hindsight, I’m so grateful that it was so hard.
Grad school taught me to sit in the muck of big, scary ideas and let them be overwhelming—and to work my way slowly and meticulously through every pulse of the work, to honor the difficulties, and to take my time getting to a real conclusion that I had toiled over for months.
TWO
Listening is participating.
In grad school, I felt a lot of pressure to be a hand raiser and head nodder. (I’m a nodder. I nod. Sometimes too much.) I’m willing to ask questions and add to the conversation, especially in those moments it really seems like your professor wants you to.
But around my third year—when my coursework became optional, after completing all my main credits—I started to relax. I sat back in the silence and let it be.
I’d gotten great at this embrace of silence as a writing teacher. I would lob big questions out to my freshmen readers—and then I’d stand silently and calmly, waiting to see if anyone would offer up a response.
Thirty seconds of silence is excruciating for the students; it was just a chance for me to sip some water and maybe change where I was standing in the room.
And I realized from doing this exercise with my students that my professors weren’t begging for participation when they made eye contact with me or let the silence in the room settle, even get uncomfortable.
It was a competitive environment and we were all prepared. Their questions weren’t a way to prove myself; they were a space to have actual conversation. To get clarity on what you didn’t understand. To take advantage of their expertise to help you move forward in your thinking.
It was basically exactly what I hoped for from my own students, when I asked them big questions and let the silence loom over the room.
And so I finally learned to sit in that silence as a student, when I was no longer technically a student.
Instead of sweating over the silence in my classes, I started sitting back and enjoying the pause between question and response—that space where thinking happens. (See point one, above.)
Today, I so appreciate those professors who modeled a calm demeanor at the front of the room. Unthreatened by silence; unbothered by the time it takes to formulate a response. Room to think. Room to wonder.
Now that I work in the corporate world—where the loudest voice typically becomes the one we act on—I appreciate this calm approach and embrace of the silence even more.
THREE
Some books aren’t for you.
And that doesn’t necessarily make them bad.
It’s okay if you don’t “get” entire time periods. It’s normal not to like every single book that was ever written.
But being a hater isn’t really a personality.
Nor does it really do much for your colleagues or your professors if all you have to offer are uncritical thoughts about how much you disliked a reading assignment.
Don’t waste your energy hating on books that aren’t for you, and please don’t get in the habit of mocking the people who do enjoy them. Spend your energy finding the books that are meant for you—and give your energy to reading them, loving them, and writing about them.
FOUR
Printables are the best.
Digital coursework is great—it opens up accessibility for lots of people who prefer digital tools.
But when I tell you that going to an academic conference with a sassy little one-pager could turn the whole crowd in your favor…I mean it.
Printing the outline of your lecture, or creating a detailed bulleted list of the citations you mention in your talk, or making a one-pager that includes that amazing quote you spend time analyzing in your conference presentation…it’s a game changer for people in the room.
And, bonus, it can also encourage people to take notes on what you’re presenting or teaching! Printables help drive in-room engagement in major ways.
FIVE
The hardest part is different for everyone.
This is a painful reality of graduate school that is also a really big secret.
Once you know it, the anxiety relief is profound. (At least: it was for me.)
Some people will be rockstars at the parts of grad school that are ruining your life. Others will struggle to do the bare minimum when you’re going fifteen extra hours without a hitch.
Here is an example: some people in your cohort will be able to draft an entire 25-page essay in a single afternoon and get an A+ on that essay.
(This was me. Sorry, not sorry.)
Some people might be able to read a whole novel in one weekend for your intense postmodernist literature class and will understand it with clarity and confidence that is so profound, they’ll dazzle the classroom with their profundity.
(This was not me and will never be me.)
You might be able to get an essay published in the best journal in your field. But your students hate the readings you assign and consistently underperform on their essays for your class in a way that makes you feel like a failure.
You might never be able to make that important connection with the scholar or professor you have wanted to connect with for years. But your peers think the way you prepare for exams is inspiring and profoundly helpful, and it helps you realize you’re really good at creating study material.
It could be any combination of things.
There will be parts that feel like you’re finally breathing easy.
And there will be parts that wrinkle your heart up into in a little ball and chuck it across the room into the bin and make you cry.
You’re probably really good at many parts of graduate school, and it’s worth digging into what those parts are, instead of simply glossing over the details. Grad school is not some monolithic space where a single attitude or aptitude will always pay out.
So tune into what works for you.
Notice your weaknesses.
And be kind to your peers, even when they’re better than you are, with seemingly less effort. They’ve got parts they’re struggling with, I promise. You owe it to each other (or at the very least, to yourself) to stay honest about those parts.
SIX
Someday, you’ll be Reader 2.
This just happened to me, actually.
We make so many jokes about “Reader 2” in academia — how they’re the naysayer, they’re the one who stops your work from making it out into the world, they hate your writing style even though literally everyone else loves it, geez.
I’ve had a fraught relationship with my own Reader 2s from the series of essays I’ve submitted to academic publications.
But this past spring, I was someone’s reader 2.
I was asked to peer review an essay for an academic publication—and about halfway through my commentary on the piece, while making recommendations for next steps, I realized I was probably going to be perceived as a naysayer and a difficult-to-please lunatic who had no right to respond to this deeply important work.
And you know what? I was fine with that because I knew the essay wasn’t where it should’ve been to have the impact it had the potential to have.
I gave earnest, honest feedback that was meant to inspire a new round of thinking and deep revision—maybe even some removals and overhauls. I knew it’d probably sting to receive. (I’ve been stung before, after all.)
But I was finally someone’s Reader 2.
And it was an honor.
📖 What else do you want to know about my graduate school experience?
In the autumn months, I’m always tucked into nostalgic feelings as I cozy into the couch for reading and writing. The smell of coffee. The school supplies in the shops. The football games and chilly air.
It makes me so happy to think back on my MA and PhD experiences, and to share what might be helpful to you — whether you’re a recovering grad on the market, a new student on campus, or in the throes of your own dissertation (or, as is often the case, someone who continues to love academia, even though their life has moved far outside its walls).
Let me know.
‘Til next time, happy reading 📚
Writing is hard. Graduate school is all consuming. I'm so glad to be out and "normal" again. I once lost a night's sleep because I couldn't remember if I'd used a colon or a semi-colon. Sounds silly now, but it's true.
Great lessons to have learned! I think one of the important things about college, particularly grad school, is that it is hard, and that forces you to sit with and work through difficult things.