My academic career is over. At least for now.  And I went out like an adult. Not the way I wanted to do it, but like an adult nonetheless.

I allowed myself to be persuaded to take the oral comprehensives, even though I wished to withdraw from the program.  The women who made the case, the director of the doctoral program and the director of the school, both argued that it would keep options open.  The subtext was that it would also demonstrate to the "boys" on the examining board that there are different kinds of knowledge, different kinds of analytical capacity, than those they have been trained in. And maybe -- just maybe -- the comprehensives process needed to be changed. 

I went into the oral feeling that I was again ill-prepared, not having had the time to consider the answers I'd written, and what substantive arguments were missing, and how I could refine the arguments, if asked to do so by the oral examiners. I did feel ready to explain how to do the calculus problem I'd blown, but I knew I'd not be asked to replicate it, and I was only moderately well prepared to talk about it conceptually.  But I had determined that I had nothing to lose, and that doing the oral would be a way to repay the kindnesses of some members of the faculty.

The 90 minutes was tortured, but unevenly. Not surprisingly, I had the most fun with the one professor who shares my view of knowledge and the world, some fun with those whose analysis I understand even if I don't share it, and the most angst with those whose analysis to me is alien and always will be -- not only the content, but the purpose!  Then I left the room.

As the discussion time among the board was taking more than the perfunctory 10 or 15 minutes, I was certain that they were about to tell me that I wasn't capable of scholarship as they saw it.  Since I'd already decided that I didn't want to pursue scholarship as they saw it, this was not going to be a major blow to my day-to-day life or my dreams, or even my self-esteem.  But, as it happens, they were discussing how very bright I am, and how my difficulties were a demonstraton of why and how the comprehensives should be reconsidered in content if not in form.  Hallelujah.

Once I'd been congratulated, I told the examining board members that I would be withdrawing from the program, and explained that I didn't want to be a scholar, when asked why.  I think it's fair to say they all felt the school would be lacking something, but those I feel most "in sync" with were those who immediately "grokked" my decision, and expressed their interest in continuing to be informed of and involved in my work. 

So, today, I'm feeling liberated.  It got to be 11:15 a.m., and neither my life partner nor I was late for anything.  At least not yet! And I don't have ten hours of reading to do by Tuesday.  And I could <gasp> read a novel, perhaps!  I don't know that I'll actually read that novel, but I love knowing that I could!

I've been urged to defer the doctoral program for a year, which would mean that I'd automatically pick up where I'm leaving off a year from now.    If I withdraw and decide to come back, I'd have to reapply, but would still be where I am now once accepted.  (And they'd have no reason not to accept me, at that point.)  I've decided that I need this decision to be made, even if it's reversed later, rather than it being postponed.  Not logical, but it works for me.    

Free at last. Free at last!

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