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this really is the best thing, in the long run.
Nobody was called for a viva, which is good, because it means everybody passed.
That's the good news.
So I've got the MPhil -- that's safe in hand and they're not going to take it away from me. The bad news is, they're not recommending that I stay for the DPhil.
I was stunned by this, natch, and also obviously unhappy, but mainly stunned; and I came home and called my mother, and didn't cry about it until then. But the thing is that it's not too much of a reach to imagine that I'd have stayed here next year, got cracking on the DPhil, and then come home, got a job, and never ever finished it. There were a lot of times during the process of writing the MPhil thesis -- which is the main basis on which they made their decision -- when I wasn't enjoying myself at all. I've never been all gung-ho about the academia and the research; mainly I wanted the degree with a D in it.
Which, okay, I know that's the wrong reason to be doing it. I have two degrees with M's now, and apparently this is the world telling me, that's M for maxed-out, kid, no D for you. Fine. Only I'd like it to have been my choice instead of theirs. It's really the shock of it that has upset me. (And I hate myself for it, but also, no small amount of shame. I feel like I should shake it off and go to the drinks party everyone else is at, but I just can't face them with their DPhils and their distinctions -- nobody will be the least bit smug, or any of that, but they'll all feel sorry for me, and I know I wouldn't be able to stand that.)
So, um, yeah. I'm coming home and looking for a real job for keeps, instead of just something for the summer. Up side: back into the curling groove a year sooner than I expected, and other bonuses about returning to the DC area from self-imposed exile.
Doesn't mean I want to talk about it.
That's the good news.
So I've got the MPhil -- that's safe in hand and they're not going to take it away from me. The bad news is, they're not recommending that I stay for the DPhil.
I was stunned by this, natch, and also obviously unhappy, but mainly stunned; and I came home and called my mother, and didn't cry about it until then. But the thing is that it's not too much of a reach to imagine that I'd have stayed here next year, got cracking on the DPhil, and then come home, got a job, and never ever finished it. There were a lot of times during the process of writing the MPhil thesis -- which is the main basis on which they made their decision -- when I wasn't enjoying myself at all. I've never been all gung-ho about the academia and the research; mainly I wanted the degree with a D in it.
Which, okay, I know that's the wrong reason to be doing it. I have two degrees with M's now, and apparently this is the world telling me, that's M for maxed-out, kid, no D for you. Fine. Only I'd like it to have been my choice instead of theirs. It's really the shock of it that has upset me. (And I hate myself for it, but also, no small amount of shame. I feel like I should shake it off and go to the drinks party everyone else is at, but I just can't face them with their DPhils and their distinctions -- nobody will be the least bit smug, or any of that, but they'll all feel sorry for me, and I know I wouldn't be able to stand that.)
So, um, yeah. I'm coming home and looking for a real job for keeps, instead of just something for the summer. Up side: back into the curling groove a year sooner than I expected, and other bonuses about returning to the DC area from self-imposed exile.
Doesn't mean I want to talk about it.
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Which doesn't begin to remedy the crushed feeling you have, I know.
*hugs*