you can call me doctor (but not *that* kind of doctor)

It's official: I defended my dissertation on Friday morning! Though I still need to deposit a final version in January and graduate in May, I can start calling myself Doctor. But to distinguish myself from my father and brother(s), I've decided I should be:

Dave had these balloons and flowers waiting for me in my apartment when I returned home after the defense! He is so thoughtful. =)


But I get ahead of myself. The defense itself was quite different from what I had expected. I had stayed up late the night before, cursing myself for not having reviewed the fragments of lost archaic epics about Heracles or including certain works on my bibliography. The morning of, I frantically repeated my various spiels to myself as I walked to the department, and almost got hit by careless drivers – twice! The gods were not looking favorably upon me. The four members of my committee met without me for the first fifteen minutes, to determine the shape of the defense, while I paced the hallway in my clicking heels. The committee invited me into the room, and my advisor immediately put me at ease by opening with, "We'd like to discuss how to turn this dissertation into the book." VICTORY!

The next hour and fifteen minutes were devoted to pushing and pulling at my ideas in the dissertation. The committee suggested that I combine two analyses into one, pointed out weaknesses in my discussions, and helped me think through how I will reframe the study for the future (think: violence theory). I won't pretend that I was comfortable, but there's something deeply enjoyable about having four terrific scholars arguing about your work with you. The discussion descended into complaints about certain aspects of the administration of the graduate program, at which point I think the defense was over. ;) The committee shooed me away, and I clicked through the halls again. This time, they invited me back into the room with smiles and handshakes and congratulations. Everyone was packing up to leave, so I had to whisper to my advisor: "Ummm, are we going to talk about revisions?" She said she'd email the committee's comments to me, but that she expects them to be "modest." RELIEF.

I still don't truly believe that I've complete the dissertation and will receive my PhD from this program. There were just so many times over the years when I truly, deeply believed that I should withdraw and find something else to do. But here I am, with a dissertation one of my advisors even said I "should be very proud of." He has never said anything of the sort to me before, so maybe he even meant it! I feel intensely grateful for so many things. My support group has always been there for me – my family and dear friends, who have heard me agonize and cry and despair so many times, and always reassured me that things will work out. Without Dave, I'm not sure I would've made it this far; he always gives me courage and steadiness for the task at hand.

But these things come as no surprise. What does surprise me is the appreciation I felt for my committee and department: scholars who have (loosely) shepherded and guided me from a barely-not-an-undergraduate to someone who could be an assistant professor at a major research institution. I may never become that assistant professor, of course, depending on the job market, but I'm still a bit in shock that the possibility is there. It's also strange to realize that my time at this institution is likely drawing to a close, and I must be ready to move on. To that end, I better get back to grading these final exams and preparing for my job interviews...