Picture your graduation day
In prior years (when I taught in person, that is) during a first-semester college class, I would give post-it notes to students and ask them to draw pictures of themselves at graduation. I encouraged them to envision the actual graduation ceremony, where they’re walking across the stage to accept their diploma to the applause of classmates and supporters and feeling the excitement and pride of a job well done.
It was always fun to see the many different ways students illustrated/interpreted this moment, though the goal, of course, was never about who could draw the best picture. Rather, the point of the activity was to get students to see themselves at an important milestone in the future with the hope that throughout their college careers, they’d keep that goal in mind.
Because the truth of the matter is this: In between the excitement/anxiety/rush of the first day of college and the joy/relief/excitement of graduation, there are many, many ordinary days.
These are the days I want to talk about today.
What does it take to make it to graduation?
On a daily basis, being in college means classes, friends, and homework, but what else does it involve?
It might mean juggling life/social groups/work/money, working through distractions or working to pay the bills, tackling procrastination, overcoming a lack of motivation, finding a quiet place to concentrate, setting up a study space or schedule and sticking to it, figuring out the best way to focus for you, learning the hard way, asking for help, stopping and beginning again, going to tutoring, fighting fatigue, hunger, irritation, frustration, and overwhelm, and/or feeling like you’re not good enough, smart enough, committed enough, or college material.
Don't worry: there will be lots of good stuff, too, but almost certainly, you are going to face some hurdles along the way.
When I was your age, I walked up a hill to & from school…
Not really, but let me tell you a story.
When I was working toward a Doctorate in Education, I drove two hours each way to take classes at a university almost every Tuesday for two years. Yes, I knew this when I signed up for the program (it was the best option for me at the time in order to get this particular degree), but that knowledge didn’t make the actual trip much easier. In reality, this schedule meant flying out the door from my more-than-full-time job as a college administrator (while also teaching four college classes) and driving two hours up a winding mountain (eating a quick lunch on the way) in order to take back-to-back classes that lasted from Tuesday afternoon through the evening (with 30 minutes to eat which sometimes the professors talked through), followed by a two-hour drive back down the winding mountain to arrive home by 11 PM.
In reality, this schedule was achievable, but what I didn’t anticipate was the internal struggle I would face on my way back down the mountain. Here’s the truth: Every Tuesday, I spent nearly the entire two-hour drive home reviewing the classes in my head and beating myself up for what I’d said or did or didn’t say or didn’t do. Instead of taking it easy on myself, like one tends to do when going downhill after an actual hike up a mountain (we came! we saw! we conquered!), I’d drive myself into a literal tizzy: a downward spiral of self-criticism, self-doubt, and self-hate (perfectionist much? yes…)
Can you guess what I’d decided by the time I reached the base of the mountain?
That’s right. I’d convinced myself it was absolutely, positively time to quit working on my degree because I wasn’t college material, I couldn’t cut it, and I wasn’t worth it.
Then I’d drive the rest of the way home in a funk and fall asleep (pass out, pretty much, from exhaustion) after parking the car in the driveway and tiptoeing into the house where my sweet family was already asleep.
Every Wednesday, I’d wake up in this same funk, definitely still overtired and definitely still doubting myself, but real life would quickly intercede — one kid or the other needed help getting ready for school, my husband couldn’t find something, or a student or colleague had a question or a problem that needed resolving. And even though I had decided to quit college on Tuesday evening, by Wednesday evening I was somehow feeling better about the world and my place in it, and by Thursday (with some solid sleep, for sure), I was once again determined to make it through another week.
In hindsight, this is a very unhealthy way to operate through college, but this is what I learned from it: Whether your challenges are internal or external (or a combination of both), they’re going to test your tenacity — your ability to persist and stay in school.
The question, then, is this: How do you plan to tackle (beat) adversity?
Do you have a mountain mentality?
What this college experience taught me is the importance of having a mountain mentality. Although I was quite literally driving up and down a mountain every Tuesday for two years, the “mountain” I’m referring to here represents the expanse of your education, and having a “mountain mentality” means persevering when times get tough.
Because I grew up in a very flat place in Minnesota (farmland USA), I didn’t encounter mountains until I started traveling. And because you might not be familiar with mountains, either, here’s what could happen on a hike:
At first glance, the mountain before you seems high, but you probably decided to hike it because so and so told you there was a beautiful vista at the top, or you’ve seen lots of pictures of how pretty it is, or you’re just out and about on a weekend in the woods and just decided to take the path. (I’m going to assume you’re rested, refreshed, and well-equipped for the hike with basic necessities, like the right shoes and water, that the weather is perfect for hiking, and that the mountain in front of you is more achievable than, say… Mt. Everest.)
The path directly in front of you doesn’t appear that bad. In fact, it might look misleadingly flat, but before long the terrain shifts: the path gets narrower, the woods get woodier, and the trail starts to become more vertical. In fact, you’re starting to feel a little strain on your legs (in a good way) as you flex your muscles and use them to help propel you up the winding path. This goes on for a while (depending on the height of the mountain) and at certain points along the way you might turn to your hiking partner and say, “Are you sure this is the right way?”
You’re feeling a little more winded, now, and may have even stopped a few times to catch your breath or take a water/snack break. But the mountain is still in front of you, and you’re in the thick of it now. As the path in front of you becomes even more elevated, you stop talking and laughing in order to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and start wishing you’d brought a hiking stick like those cheerful older people you passed a little while ago who were on their way back down the mountain.
Finally, after nearly an hour, you come face-to-face with a large rock wall covered in vines. “Where’s the path?” you ask your partner. They respond, “I think we’re supposed to climb.” What? This wasn’t what you bargained for. You’d assumed there would be a path or at least a ladder at the end. Why can’t there be steps? But after searching for a bit, you realize your partner is right. The only way is UP. The two of you debate, unsure what to do: Should we stay? Should we turn around? We’re almost out of water and what if we fall? Finally, you decide that you’re SO close to the top that it would be a bad idea to turn back now, and you start climbing carefully.
After a bit, you realize there are foot- and hand-holds that must have formed over time from the people (certainly some adventurous souls) who climbed this mountain before you, and you take comfort in stepping where they stepped. You can see the sky, now, too; knowing you must almost be there, you feel a little excitement and energy return despite your fatigue and sore arms.
Finally, finally, you claw your way up past a few more rocks, and — THERE IT IS! THE BEAUTIFUL EXPANSE! THE VISTA! You’re at the top, and with barely a cloud in the sky, you have a 360-degree view of the rest of the mountain range and valley below. Yikes! Be careful — you don’t want to go tumbling over that rock. Look up and around — yes, it’s the world, all in front of you! You try to take it all in, but you can’t. You feel overwhelmed. For one thing, it’s a little hot up here and you’re still almost out of water and you still have to make it back down again. But then, just for a few minutes, you stop worrying and just try to absorb the moment, and you do, and you realize: YOU DID IT! You made it up the mountain! It feels good, oh-so-good, and quite possibly worth the effort (but you won’t decide that for certain until you’re safely back down the mountain and rested and rehydrated).
After spending a little more time at the top, you make your way back down the mountain just fine, (in record time, in fact), and a few days/weeks/months after you climb the mountain, you’ve convinced yourself you’d be able to do it again.
Finally, a few tips
Here are a few things I’ve learned (the hard way) that might help you develop your own mountain mentality:
Find your circle of supporters: Friend/family/partner/classmate/professor/cafeteria staff/tutor/puppy: who’s in your circle? Who are the people (or animals) you can turn to who are in your corner and who are happy to support you? Find these people and keep them close. (I’m happy to be your cheerleader, too).
Make sure you’re getting enough sleep/enough to eat: This one is probably self-explanatory, but I hope it’s obvious from my story that making decisions while exhausted is not a good way to operate.
Schedule downtime: Make sure you have something or some way of distracting yourself from school. You can’t be 100% focused all of the time: that’s an easy recipe for burnout.
Accept good enough: This might seem silly, but most of that stuff I was evaluating/berating myself for while driving down the mountain wasn’t even graded. It was just conversations, perspectives, and discussions along the way, and I was measuring myself against some mythical ideal that had no basis in reality. Don’t be like me. Love yourself, accept yourself, and give yourself grace.
Take it day-by-day: Instead of picturing the entire expanse of the mountain, it’s perfectly okay to take it day-by-day. Tackle today’s agenda (today, I’m going to get from here to here) and then take a break. That’s a good way to be, too.
Ask for help: Yes, you can. I see now I should have done this immediately upon starting the doctoral program, in order to look after my mental health. (Frankly: all students in doctoral programs should have a therapist/counselor. This should be a thing.) Do you need help understanding something? Ask questions. Need a tutor? Find the academic learning center. Need support? Please ask for help.
Celebrate small wins and milestones along the way: Here’s the thing: You don’t have to be all the way to the top of the mountain to celebrate. Made it to mid-terms? Yay! Made it through your first semester? Double YAY! Beat that final exam or turned that paper in on time? Registered for the next semester? Collect ALL your WINS, large or small.
I’d love to hear about the ways you make it through the day-by-day and overcome your challenges. Feel free to comment and share your strategies and your wins!
Take care,
Dr. Jo 💛
PS. I finally DID graduate, and it was a very, very good day. ⤵️