I think I’ve been pretty brutally honest about how my graduate education went.
There were some really, really high points. I met some amazing people. I found my soul mate. I did what I think was some really significant work, and I paved the road to a career that is now blossoming nicely.
But I mentioned in the first of these “lies my parents told me” posts that there were some things that were disheartening about my educational process. Today’s post is sort of a confessional while also pointing to something that sometimes the academy gets wrong.
First, an anecdote. Among my colleagues is a great guy named Bob. He works in a different building than me, because our program is interdisciplinary and his office is over where his other discipline is. He has an amazing research space for students (and faculty) that he basically designed and built. His office is in there. Sometimes I go over there to hang out just cuz.
One day, Bob told me that it bothered him that people call it “Bob’s lab.” I totally got where he was coming from. It’s meant to be a space for everyone, and it’s uniquely American and academic to call something a person’s lab. I teach in a classroom that numerous other people use in the basement of the library, but many of my students think of it as my “cave.” It’s not my room, even if I act like I own the place.
But I realized that sometimes I say “I’ll be over in Bob’s lab.” I think I only do it because everyone else does, and it’s easier, but after Bob mentioned it I started using the specific name of the lab any time I mention it. It’s not just his space, though in my mind I often think, much like when it’s Tuesday and I might see Morrie, if I am going to that lab, I might see Bob. When I say I’m going over there, people look at me funny when I use the full name, then I sigh and say “you know, where Bob’s office is.”
“Oh, you mean Bob’s lab?”
the reason I went with that anecdote to open here is that assigning a person’s name to a role has a weird utility in academia. When faculty members leave, new hires are “the new X.” I was, at one point, the new several people, including a colleague who I consider it high praise to be considered the new version of and one that I feel like I have to scratch my head to understand.
And that reminded me of the micro-aggression I want to talk about here.
I had a talk with someone who was a part of the admissions program for my graduate program. This person, who was not fully alert given the hour of the night, let go in the conversation that my cohort was meant to be a set of replacements. The person then named the seven people who had either graduated or were in their fifth year and pointed out the one of us that was supposed to replace them.
I was mortified. At a moment where I– and my cohorts, I think, as well– was fighting to build an identity in the field, I was told point-blank by someone that my entire function was to be the new version of someone who was leaving, to work with a specific faculty member, and to do certain things.
The conversation went on to take a slightly darker turn. Part of the reason I was feeling weird, I was told, is because my open resistance of being the new version of that former student was causing some to question my value. Apparently being myself, and not emulating the person they thought I was meant to replace, was taken as defiance.
Thinking back, I should have laughed. Rally round the family/pocket full of shells and all that.
But I was hurt. I can say that sentence a number of times to express my own fatal flaw: “but I was hurt.” It’s one of the things I do. I get hurt.
And I realized the other day, to my own horror, that I was taking part in a conversation where a few of my colleagues– and myself– were doing this same thing with our undergrads. I was doing it ironically, but when I realized the others weren’t, I felt bad for my own participation in it. They didn’t know my baggage with it to realize I was being me and mocking the concept. I was trying to get over the wound that is still there, hidden under layer after layer of defense.
I know that people who do really specific, really long-term research look for new grad students who want to do that same sort of research to keep their teams going, but taking it too far and trying to get the next version of the last person is just wrong.
I hope I never, even jokingly, call someone the new X or Y ever again.
It’s damaging to the soul.