The notion of doing a PhD had sat quietly in the back of my mind for many years. Never at the forefront or bursting to get out. Just sitting, steady and waiting. My dear colleague Wapke would nudge it occasionally - 'When are you going to do that PhD Mandy? You can't do this forever you know. Your body won't last'.
The 'this' she was referring to was sitting on the floor with 4 year olds as a kindergarten teacher. And she was right. My body didn't last.
In November 2016 the degeneration of a childhood bone disease caught up with me and I had a hip replacement. The pain had become too much. I could no longer sit on the floor with the children and every time I picked up a spade in the sandpit my hip told me back to react - and not in a good way. It was time to find the post-classroom life - the 'what's next?'.
Wapke's advice was 'Get yourself a PhD and then you can teach at uni'. It was sage advice. I liked the idea of teaching at uni. Sharing my years of experience, helping to craft the next generation of educators. I saw it as a 'step up', an intellectual promotion of sorts.
But once enrolled in the PhD, I realised that before I could take this 'step up', I needed to take what felt like a step down.
Many may view a PhD as the pinnacle of intellectual achievement. But it's not. In the academic world, a PhD student (regardless of age or prior knowledge and experience) is the bottom of the ladder. The beginning of a very long run.
Stepping down into the PhD was challenging. I quickly went from being an established and confident teacher to being a shy and uncertain PhD student. My supervisors were lovely and supportive, but they were also my supervisors. We were not peers or friends, and at times I felt insignificant and with little to contribute. I was no longer surrounded by teachers, my trusted peers of many years. I was surrounded by academics who viewed teaching as an obligatory sideline to their research.
Despite its challenges, the PhD journey was also an enriching, loved and transitional experience. The opportunity to focus one's attention on a chosen area of interest is such a privilege.
My research - focused on risk-taking, children and teaching - was my happy place. It was explosion of thinking and learning. I was exposed to new perspectives, new ideas about educational practice and new notions of knowing and being. I also learnt more about myself than I had ever imagined.
And, although I missed my teacher friends, I was embraced by a small but wonderful group who became my new trusted peers. A mixed bunch with a range of past experiences, we were brought together through the common experience of doing PhDs. Together we read, learnt, cried, read, wrote, read and wrote some more. And together we came out on the other side.
When I look at the PhD testamur taped to my fridge, I think of my dear colleague Wapke. She was right to encourage me to do a PhD. Not just because my body needed it, but because so did my mind.
m x
