I hope Gabriel García Márquez can forgive me for editing the title of his famous work for my own purposes.
Recently, whenever anyone asks me: “Jen, how are things in Edmonton?” the answer tends to waver between ‘alright’ and ‘meh’. I’m sure many people reading this feel the same. We’re all in the same boat in a sea of pandemic and every day is like being on those metaphorical ocean waves: sometimes it is calm, sometimes it is terrifyingly fierce, sometimes we’re caught somewhere between the peak and trough and we’re waiting for the wave to break. But humans are, and always have been, resilient in the face of adversity; we make do and, well, mend. Or make sourdough. Or ‘victory garden’. Or play pandemic. Or binge watch that new show on Netflix. As a teaching assistant leading students through hominin evolution this semester, this ‘adversity’ statement feels quite poignant.
But whenever someone follows up with: “So, how about your research?” I am engulfed in a silent but ever-so-present terror that I have spent months trying to suppress, so I smile weakly and reply, “We’re waiting to see what happens.”
My doctoral research will be based on a particular sample that is currently in two locales: still in the ground in Siberia, near Lake Baikal, and in a museum in Saint Petersburg, Russia. We’d planned a field school in Siberia for Summer 2020 and I was looking at spending Winter 2021 in St. P. The former had to be cancelled; the latter has been postponed – I don’t know until when.
My sample can’t leave the country, and I’m not allowed in.
So when I’m asked about my research, what I don’t say is that if the borders remain closed, if the university won’t let us travel, if this doesn’t mildly resolve itself by next year, if people keep ignoring provincial and federal health guideline (wear your darn tootin’ mask), my degree will be postponed indefinitely. What will I do until I can start again? No effin’ clue. It’s stressful, it’s frustrating, and to quote our prime minister, “It sucks.”
I am not the only one in this situation. Many of my cohort, as well as thousands of graduate students and professors across the country, and around the world, are in this same boat – unable to travel, abroad OR within Canada; unable to access their labs, equipment, and samples; unable to progress. Some have been able to change their research questions and continue as ‘normal’ (well done! I am jealous), others will take an extra year to complete their degree (I wish you success in getting extra funding!), and those like me are in a weirdly modern, living version of purgatory – just without Satan (unless that’s the name of your cat…).
While I don’t always feel it, these is an underlying continual stress that won’t go away, and it manifests as baking-bonanzas, troubled sleep, and irritation about simple things. When I talk to my cohort, it’s not just me ‘in purgatory’, but even those who are able to continue with their theses. Will my thesis be as good without field data? Is a literature review thesis as useful, or good enough to get into a PhD? Can I afford to take another year of school? What do I do when I’ve graduated? Will there be jobs? People don’t reply to my emails, so how can I virtually collect my data? The stressors go on.
And that’s before considering all the undergrads, for whom I have the utmost sympathy, and for whom the above questions are also applicable. I’ve done university now. Twice. So even though I complain and whine and moan, I know what to do, how to study, get work done, and live on my own. I can ‘adult’ sufficiently, though I admit I’ve had cake for breakfast…and lunch…and dinner…maybe more than once. But undergrads are new to this, even the fourth years, and online learning is not fun for anyone. How do you hold an online field-school? How do you get a job in archaeology without having done a field school? (for many, you can’t…).
I recently read a CBC article about universities pushing classes back a week, then I made the mistake of reading the comments.
RANT ALERT (proceed to “All I will say…” if you wish to avoid reading my anger.)
For every comment complaining students are lazy – no, we’re tired. Many of us live away from home, have been deprived of social contact, and are overwhelmed with pandemic life ON TOP of school and needing to keep good grades so we can get into programs, get good jobs, get bursaries and grants to live.
For every comment complaining students are entitled – maybe, but aren’t many of us entitled, O anonymous adult commentator who has good enough internet to make such a blasé comment? My co-TA and I spent the weekend fixing and paring down a lab quiz because the file size was too big, as some students don’t have decent internet access to download large files. Are they entitled, too? The ones who use public libraries because they don’t own computers or can’t afford internet?
For every comment complaining “we’d have lost the wars” if today’s students were soldiers etc. etc. – seriously? Who hurt you? I know plenty of non-student adults who leave much to be desired in soldier quality. We’re weak? Tell that to Emily or Victoria, who defended their PhD theses for 4+ hours straight. If you’re obsessed with fighting, students ‘fight’ in other ways, and student groups engage in social activism daily and have been the push in social movements for decades. Remember Greta? Pretty sure she’s a student…guess Sweden will lose that war they’re not fighting.
For every comment complaining students don’t understand that life is hard – sorry, come again? I’m thirty. I have a mortgage. I’ve lived in countries not as progressive as Canada. Tell me about how life is easy, please. Yes, everyone’s mental health is doing poorly (same with students), yes there are people who are losing their jobs or homes and struggling to get by (same with students), yes you should also have an extra week to relax and just be, yes there are people worse off than students – congratulations, you’ve won the misery gold medal. Take your stoicism and shove it.
All I will say to that is this: school, undergrad or graduate, IS a full time job, and comes with just as many responsibilities and difficult decisions as a “real job”. Stop complaining about us and petition your government officials to do something about the pandemic. We sure are.
Aaaaaaaaaaanyway. The Fall 2020 semester is coming to an end (crap, I have a lab quiz on Thursday), exams are on the horizon (wait, what? I haven’t had an exam since 2016), and Christmas is in the air (I decorated yesterday; half my ornaments are already on the floor…thanks Seabass). Next semester I’ll be writing my prospectus and preparing for my candidacy exams in the spring as I’d originally intended. And hopefully -hopefully!- I’ll be packing my rucksack to head into the field in summer, and if not, if the borders are still closed, then hopefully -hopefully!- I’ll be able to pack my suitcase for the fall. And if not…I’d rather not talk about that.
Those old war posters seem all too fitting now, “Keep calm and carry on.” Though I have a humble amendment to make: “Keep calm and carry on…and keep 2m away from me.”
…else I may have to make you part of my sample.
dzhentato 