The Grass is Always Greener

I just got back from a fancy schmantzy conference for educational researchers in New Orleans. I submit proposals every year and hope to get one in-even though I know I’m out of my league. Whenever I’m lucky enough to get to go, I experience an odd mix of optimistic motivation-“I think I can, I think I can” (publish, that is)-along with a pretty heavy dose of loserliness-“How can I possibly compete with these big shot academic types?”

I got married at 19 (wowza!), finished my BA, got a full-time teaching job, and had two kids while working on my MA at night. I then got a job teaching at a university, had my third (and last!) baby, and started working on my Ph.D. when he was 3 months old. I have tried to have my cake and eat it, too, and in many ways, I have. But I have still had to sacrifice things in both camps-career and home/family. Most of the time I think I do a pretty good juggling act, but sometimes (like when I go to this conference), I feel a tad regretful and even jealous-emotions I’m unaccustomed to experiencing because I usually feel pretty good about my station in life.

Last year at this same conference, I had a very interesting experience. As I sat in a paper session where four women from big name schools presented their research, the loserliness emerged. These women were SMART (I’m talking Ph.D.s from Harvard, Columbia, etc.) Their arguments (both written and oral) were sophisticated. While I sat there taking notes, I couldn’t help thinking, “Wow, I just can’t compete with these people.” They have so much more money, more resources, more TIME (they teach 1/2 the courses I do each semester), they have grad students who do their grunt work (I’ll never have that), and they have an automatic in at many academic journals just by virtue of their school name or their dissertation adviser. These women don’t have kids, either, so they can work long hours if necessary. And to top it all off, they were pretty! One of them-a tall, tan, blonde Kiwi-was sporting a pencil skirt with high heels. She looked like a model.

After that session, I went back to my hotel room to feel sorry for myself for a few hours before going to a dinner meeting. Imagine my surprise when I ended up sitting by the same women whose presentations I had been intimidated by just a few hours earlier. One of them mentioned how nice it was to have a chance to talk to other women their same age (32-37 years) since they often interact with older people with whom they can’t relate. I volunteered that even though we were the same age, I might not be able to relate because I was married with three kids! These middle-aged, single women immediately started exclaiming about how lucky I was, asking how I did it, clamoring to see pictures of my kids, telling me how lucky I was to have a husband and children, explaining how lonely they were, how they can’t meet anybody, all they do is work, they always thought they’d have 3-4 kids and now they’re trying to come to terms with not having any because of their age . . .

I joked that if I emailed them my CV and they saw my paltry list of publications, they’d feel better about their life choices. One of the women looked at me very seriously and said: “Don’t joke about that. Publications don’t matter. But children? Family? That matters. When I’m old, no one will care how many articles I published.”

I left that dinner feeling happy about my choices. (Caveat: I’m not saying that I did the “right” thing-just sharing this experience that reminded me to feel good about my choices.)  So when the sense of loserliness came back this weekend, I remembered that odd dinner last year and told myself:

“I’ll never be a Harvard grad. I’ll likely never get an A+ publication. And I’ll never look like that beautiful blonde Kiwi in the pencil skirt. But I made my choices and I’m good with them.”