Two weeks ago, I sent one child off to second grade and another off to seventh grade. The school calendar defines the shape of my year, and not simply because I have school-aged children. I find that school schedules dictate much of what we do in the church. I have always lived in university towns, and student traffic patterns and football games determine how year-round town residents arrange their time. This year feels different, though, because I myself am going back to school.
I calculated, and it has been nearly 12 years since I have been in a classroom. I attended orientation for the Duke Divinity School Doctor of Ministry program this past Friday, which included master’s and doctoral level students—those who had been engaged in theological study before and those who were brand new—and I had forgotten the excitement emanating from first year graduate students. It was sweet and invigorating to feed off their earnest energy because the energy does not last. The “real world” beyond the cocooned environment of graduate school develops cynicism quickly.
Some things about school have drastically changed; others have not at all. Technology has become more sophisticated. I wish I had had this much online access to class materials when I first went through—I would have saved lots of money! The libraries are easier to navigate, need-to-know information about the school is more accessible on the web, and everything can be done with your smartphone. The substance of classes, however—reading, discussing, and writing—can only be innovated so much by new technology tools. So I do not feel like a fish out of water as much as I might have thought.
I love school. I always have and probably always will.
I experience a small thrill when receiving a fresh set of syllabi for the term’s classes, and I pour over them and begin plugging due dates into my calendar. I order books or located the texts and save them into folders and begin checking off the assignments. My reading lists continue to grow as I check bibliographies and other suggested reading. I do not buy freshly sharpened pencils and notebooks as I did in those early school years (now I do nearly everything on my laptop, despite my love for paper supplies), but I delight in creating fresh folders for new courses and organizing my bookmarked tabs. The beginning of a semester always feels shiny, new, and loaded with possibility (of course, two months in, when everyone is just trying to keep their heads above water, it’s a different story).
The most significant change to my life as I student now is that I have children and a full-time job and weighty responsibilities outside of school. Whereas undergraduate and graduate school (round 1) defined my life at the time, this degree program is only a part of my life. Indeed, it is designed to be that way; it is crafted specifically for full-time ministry professionals. I have stricter boundaries I will enforce around when and how I do my assignments, which I am certain will make for healthier habits this time around. No more staying up until midnight to finish a paper. No more ruminating over a sentence for three hours to make sure it’s perfect. No more allowing course grades to consume my entire mental load. The external parameters of family and career have provided welcome checks on my perfectionist tendencies. As I have grown older, I have become increasingly okay with reaching “good enough” (recognizing that my “good enough” is usually pretty darn good). I always am reticent to use the word “balance” when it pertains to anything related to work, life, and relationships, but I do feel more centered and grounded now that I am responsible to more people other than myself.1
While going back to school is awfully specific to where I am in my life right now, I think we all find ourselves revisiting parts of our old identities from time to time.
Maybe trying something new actually looks like taking up something we did a long time ago, whether that is getting back into playing tennis, or picking up piano practice again, or becoming certified to scuba dive because we always loved the ocean as a child. Our passions may change or emerge anew, but much of what makes us tick now likely does not differ drastically from what we loved in childhood.
One refrain I have heard multiple times since arriving here in Durham is “listen to where your passion is, and that is where the spirit is calling.”
Sometimes I have heard this in the context of discussions about choosing a thesis topic, but this has also been said to first year seminary students, many of them eager but unsure where their degree will take them. I believe we are created to chase those things we enjoy that stretch us and challenge us and cause us to grow, and in the pursuit, we become better versions of ourselves and better contributors to our communities.
Even if it has been a very long time since you have done that thing that you love, you have the muscle memory, I bet. Just give it a try.
One other change that is notable as I reflect on how I differ from my early academic days is how much more I write down than I used to! I was not always a planner person, believe it or not. I had planners, but I did not always use them. I carried so much information in my brain. I did not use digital calendars (they were not really a thing back then). The aforementioned responsibilities limit my brain capacity to hold details, so I rely far more heavily on calendar keeping, lists, and written reminders. I try to remember that when I notice how my middle school daughter tries to keep her seven different class assignment schedules in her head (not always successfully). For the most part, I managed fine back then. I had less to hold. Today I recognize that I do not want to allocated limited and valuable brain power to keeping rack of due dates and menial repetitive tasks.