A little taste of academia

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It’s been almost a year to the day since I published my most last post on this blog.  Needless to say, we have a lot of catching up to do.  Rather than trying to retell everything though, I am just going to pick up with where I am now.  And, to continue in the spirit of change, I am going to use this space to process some lessons I have been learning instead of simply retelling all of my experiences in India. 

It’s late tonight.  Actually, to be honest, it’s only 10:17pm, but after not enough sleep all week and an intellectually and socially demanding day, my body aches for rest.  But I cannot sleep until I have recorded the events of this day in all their glory before they are faded by morning.  Today I, almost by accident, went to a conference that was focused on how to respond to global humanitarian crises.  It was on my campus, but those in attendance were not typical visitors to the school. There were key players in global organizations that have been among the first to respond to numerous humanitarian disasters.  There were also ivy-league undergraduate and graduate students and professors.  They were my own peers and friends. It is not often that I get to interact with public health professionals working internationally, even though that is exactly how I want to spend my life.  I think that’s why the conference had such an effect on me.  It’s easy to live comfortably, I admit, and this was not a comfortable experience for me.   

The environment was professional, academic, crisp.  Everyone was well dressed; they carried themselves with class and confidence.  They knew when to tilt their head just barely to show interest, when to smile, and when to speak.  Their desire for justice and equality was obviously intellectual, tinted with a sexy compassion.    

If they weren't genuine, I sure couldn't tell.  I was intimidated and a little overwhelmed by their sheer knowledge (not to mention their abundant vocabularies).  Engaging with “big name” speakers and interacting with students from schools I idolize was exhausting for me, a little person who is much more comfortable at home in my jeans and wool socks, always trying but never being able to complete an entire crossword puzzle.  Just seeing these women and men doing work that they truly care about and being able to picture myself in their shoes was so encouraging.  All I kept thinking was how I wanted to be like them and I could see myself doing their job and loving it.  This excitement was not without fears that I wouldn’t actually be “good enough” to have such a job, though.  I wouldn’t act professional enough.  I’m not pretty enough.  I don’t always know the right thing to say, in fact, tactlessness is one of my top strengths.  I don’t always think through things very well.  These fears may be legitimate, they may not.  But for now, I’m just going to cling to the inspiration that these people, who I doubt will even remember my name or my eager, searching, eyes, have brought me.  I have a framework now for a little more of what my life might look like, and that is exhilarating.  The excitement that I feel is unreal—literally I’m anxious about the rest of my life—and I’m not even close to graduating.  

 Maybe this is what it feels like to begin to comprehend the meaning of vocation.