I have been thinking about commencement speeches and swore that if I survived this last heart procedure that I would be brave enough to share my thoughts with others. Here is the column that I wrote for next weeks Caswell Messenger. (There is a recipe for you if you make it to the end :-). If asked to make a commencement speech, I would tell a story about a rejection letter and of being judged as sub-par. My audience would not be the valedictorian, the “A” student who never had to crack a book, or the teen voted most likely to succeed. My audience would be students like myself, who made mistakes, who didn’t receive a great deal of encouragement, who “slipped through the cracks” (my favorite phrase, which I have had applied to me more than once :-) ), and who was occasionally ridiculed for being “different.” This is my story. The long version became the final chapter of my dissertation; the short version was included in the Acknowledgments of my book: Voices Unbound: Women Intellectuals in American History. It is an experience that not only dictated the topic of my dissertation, it shaped my future. Back in 1987, I decided to return to graduate school at the age of 36. I took the GREs (SATs for graduate school) and scored abysmally on my first try (although later I did score in the 94 percentile once I realized that you should actually study for the exam). In my application letters, I included pertinent information, such as I had been room mother for 14 years. There was no guidance counselor to suggest that this was a recipe for disaster. Alas, the applications were sent to top universities. Needless to say, during this first round, I received rejection letters. One came from UNC. For some reason, I decided to respond to UNC Professor E--, explaining that I knew I had made every mistake one could make in crafting an application. That said, I wanted the university to know that I was capable of the work and would succeed to whatever I set my mind. I then asked them to reconsider. A few weeks later I received “the letter” from Professor E--. She wrote that “there were women [such as myself] whose children had left home and wanted to return to school.” The problem, she mused, “was how to make up for the ‘lost’ years.” Yes, dear reader, those years I spent raising children were “lost.” Professor E-- suggested that I remain in Louisiana, where I was living, since schools, such as LSU, did not have the “constraints” that UNC had. When my son returned from school that afternoon, he found me tearing up the UNC Catalogue. Although by nature a sensitive woman with self-esteem issues, I was furious. Interestingly, my ire was not focused on Professor E’s words to me but to the numerous women that received similar letters and who had believed her drivel and agreed with her that they were unworthy. Women who would say, “Professor E—is correct. I wasted my life raising children and now lack the skills for anything else.” Once I discovered the correct way to file applications, I was accepted at a university and received a teaching assistantship, thanks to Dr. Mike Reynolds who must have seen some potential in me. I framed Professor E—‘s letter and positioned it on my desk. Whenever I wanted to quit (raising children, teaching full time, and attending graduate school is stressful), I would re-read her comments and the embers would erupt into flames all over again. I had to work hard, but hard work is often rewarded. I was named NCSU Outstanding Teaching Assistant, NCSU Humanities Outstanding Teacher, President of the Graduate English Association, and received the Hayes Excellence Fellowship, which covered my first year expenses in UNC-G’s Ph.D. program. None of this came easy, but I was inspired. Even today, years after retiring from NCSU, I find E’s rejection letter a source of inspiration. My anger has slowly shifted to gratitude (sort of). Let me preface my next comment by saying that UNC should have rejected me. My grades were spotty, my first GRE score was embarrassing, and my application was sophomoric. However, all Professor E-- needed to do was write, “Thank you for your interest, but we still reject your application.” Instead she sent a message that can only be described as soul-killing. Here was a woman in a position of power who wrote another woman a thousand miles away, whom she had never met, that her dreams were unattainable. Admittedly, this story reveals my errors in judgment, but that is not the message. Here is the lesson: When someone judges that you are not tall enough, pretty enough, smart enough, thin enough, talented or good enough, you have two choices. You can agree with them, tuck tail, and crawl back into Plato’s Cave and live out the rest of your life in the shadows . . . OR . . . you can get mad/determined and prove these toxic soul-killers wrong. I hope you choose to do the latter. Happy Graduation Day! Panna Cotta Recipe: We seek comfort after rejection, but comfort food doesn’t have to be unhealthy. Try this light Italian custard and top it with the last strawberries of the season. Serves 4-6. The day before, heat 1/2 cup of milk in small saucepan. Add 2/3 c. sugar and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until the sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and add 2 TB. lemon zest and 3 c. buttermilk. Stir well. Store in fridge for 4-6 hours to let flavors meld. Remove from the fridge and strain through fine mesh strainer to remove zest. In separate saucepan, pour 3/4 c. milk. Sprinkle 1 package (1 ½ TB.) Knox gelatin over milk and let stand for 10 minutes. Stirring constantly, cook over medium heat until gelatin dissolves. Add buttermilk mixture, stirring well. Divide among 4-6 custard cups. Cover and chill at least 8 hours or overnight. Unmold (or eat directly from the cups) and top with fresh strawberries.
Posted on: Thu, 15 May 2014 23:43:00 +0000
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