Why I hate graduate school

It is hard to know where to begin. Today was a hard day. But mostly, I think, because that is the story I have chosen to tell myself. Today was the day of my Graduate Comprehensive Exam. It is where I show my work and tell the faculty “I know how to make the work” and “I know how to talk about the work” so “I am ready to graduate.” Except that I was really nervous, and the day never really went as planned.

You could say that my day really began when I heard my name being called and I came to standing in front of a plate glass window. I was staring into the quad outside, but really I wasn’t staring at anything. I don’t know where I had been. For a moment I thought "perhaps I had blacked out." It was then that I realized that it was over. I had made the presentation and it was finished.

I heard my name being called. I turned and there were people standing around. Some were talking in small groups, others were walking towards the exit. My eyes locked with my committee chair. “Lets meet in the media room.” I nodded and walked forward. I watched as we approached the room. I saw him fumble for his keys. The door fell open and several faculty members and I walked in. Everyone was seated. “Where was I supposed to sit?” I wondered. I pulled a chair into the center of the room. Then thinking better of that choice I left the chair there and retreated to one corner of the room and waited. Everyone was silent. “Why was no one talking?” Someone asked a question.

“If you would like to talk about procedure I can wait in the hallway.” I offered. More silence.

“I think we have your statement. Why don’t you wait outside while the faculty talks?” Thankfully I left the room.

I walked outside. I saw another faculty member talking to a student. I wanted to scream. I walked to a construction site nearby and picked up a clump of dirt. It was heavy to the touch. I broke it into pieces. "Why did it crumble so easily?" I threw the debris to the ground and picked up another. This one felt heavier. Wetter. I threw it into a mound of earth. I turned. The couple had left. The sun was annoying. I walked to the shadow of the building but the shade was uncomfortably dark.

“I hate it here.”

I went inside. The hallway was deserted. I walked the length of it and climbed some stairs. I though better of my decision and walked back down again. “I am pacing.” I thought. Better to sit, but there were no chairs. I walked the length of the hallway again and came to a rest in front of the media room door. I could hear muffled voices within. “I am in shock.” I thought, then added “I can’t be found here.” I ran back to the stairs and climbed them halfway and sat in the shadows. At some point I called my wife. The conversation lasted hours and seconds. Later I remember feeling ashamed for not remembering it more clearly.

Voices.

Bodies.

Movement.

Two of the faculty members had left the building. Two more were in the hall. I heard them say something about line quality and technique, “I can hear you” I said, or possibly “I am aware” as if to say “of my shortcomings.” None of it made sense.

“You passed” said the chair.

I am staring out into the quad through a plate glass window, I hear my voice being called. Suddenly I come to. “Is it over?” I wonder?