On Monday I visited my grandmother in her new home and went with her and my Mom to the April birthday celebrations. One of the residents was called Dr. "So and So" everytime they referred to her. That's not so unusual, for someone to refer to someone else by their title. After a little while, one of the other residents though leaned over and asked her: "What kind of doctor are you?" She replied that she was an EdD. "EdD" they repeated. My ears had tuned in, though they were at the next table. I knew that this meant Doctor of Education, not Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) or medical doctor. I haven't had a chance to chat with her about her career in education, but I hope to at some point as I visit. I enjoy talking learning and education with folks.
I didn't think that hearing the letters "EdD" could trigger anything inside of me, but they did. They took me back to a time where I stepped out in risk and failed.
When I got that call to "go deeper" in 2006 and when I knew I would be retiring from teaching to make space to explore and to be more with my daughter, one of the areas I thought was a logical "next step" was the EdD at the institution where I currently taught. I loved teaching and I did a decent job of it (per former students). I enjoyed helping them learn to learn and helping teachers make connections, etc. I participated in the teacher learning groups and even helped facilitate an online class after I had taken it for fellow teachers once.
So, when the EdD program came up in discussions, it seemed that it might truly be the right next step for me. I was given the impression that I was going to be in the program, and the process was a formality. Part of the process was retaking the GRE because it had been over 10 years since I last took it. Stumbling block. I didn't do well the first time on the GRE. I don't do well on those types of assessments. Period. It's not a strength. The last time I had taken it I was so brain fried afterwards that I stopped somewhere on my way home to Dalton from UTC (where I took the test) and somehow locked my keys in the car (this was back in 1986). This time I was going to have the opportunity to do it on computer. I took it and did the best I could.
The results showed that I had held my own over the last 20 years in the language area and did fairly well in it, which was encouraging since I had been in the area of languages and linguistics. The written portion wasn't too bad either. But the math?!?! Let's just say that I pretty much tanked it (expression that means I didn't do well). I can do math, but it's not my strong area. I hadn't had math since pre-calculus my freshman year in college (1986-87) and this was Fall of 2006, I think.
But I wasn't too worried about the GRE scores for the application process because it was only a portion of the process. But, then I didn't even get an interview to come in and I didn't understand. I asked questions. I was told that the GRE counted for more than I had been advised previously and I didn't make the cut.
Talk about a downward spiral. You take what you thought was the next right step. You do what you need to do. You are given the impression by admission personnel that this is simply a process. And, then large brick wall. Ouch! It was a struggle for me. I fought it, internally and externally.
In fact, I will admit that one of my reactions was to apply to an online institution where I could study and earn the degree. I applied and spent my $50. Then, the more I spoke with them and learned about them (they weren't accredited, they couldn't tell me or show me who their professors were, etc), I knew this wasn't the right choice for me. I "wasted" $50 in my urgency to meet my own void. But I learned quite a bit and had some good, albeit annoying conversations with the folks that kept calling me. As I would ask why they didn't post their faculty online so I could know in advance who they were, they stumbled to give me answers. It was a learning process time for me. I told them to withdraw my application. I still heard from them for a very long time.
I sat back to wait. I had done what I thought was right, but it didn't work out. Risk and failure. It has to happen along the journey. Was my discernment off? I don't know. It truly felt right at the time. Did I learn things from the process. Oh, maybe some. Anytime I have to deal with my ugliness and frustrated self is a time to learn something.
As I waited, at some point, the online certificate through Asbury Theological Seminary came into my radar. I looked into it and applied. That application process in itself was a process for me in that it caused me to assess some things. I was accepted into the program and started classes in the Summer of 2007. Through the Certificate program I took classes in leadership (which is why I was wanting to go the EdD route to begin with) because I knew leadership was part of my calling. These courses confirmed that and equipped me. I took classes in discipleship. Not only was I learning, but I was being transformed and going deeper while I learned. And, here I am now, working toward the M.Div. with about 2 more years to complete it.
I will then have 2 Master degrees; no Doctorate. That's okay with me. I didn't go for the PhD in Spanish back when I could have because the timing wasn't right. The EdD obviously wasn't right either. I may never be a "Doctor" and that is perfectly fine with me. I have had students call me "Doctor" along the way, but I have gently told them that my degree wasn't a Doctorate and if they desired to give me a title, then my degree was a Master. ☺
Reflecting back on my experience of risk and failure has been good. Anytime we put ourselves "out there", it is risky. It means we can be rejected. Though I was rejected from the EdD program, that rejection is what helped me wait and be open and ready for what was truly my next step.
What risks and failures are part of your journey? I would encourage you to embrace them as part of your story.
Blessings as you travel,
Debra
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