Trust the Process

I’ll never forget my first day of graduate school at Goddard College. Granted, I knew from the college web site that Goddard was “a special kind of place.” http://goddard.edu/

But I was completely unprepared for how Goddard College would turn everything that I’d experienced previously at my conventional, "staid" university upside-down and inside-out.

As an undergrad, I had been on a single-minded mission to earn my bachelor’s degree before I turned 20. I was -- like many young students I still see -- extremely attached to completing classes and checking off boxes on my degree planning sheet. Learning would happen,  I was convinced, but it was more about “getting through” semesters. (I would officially become my parents' daughter once I earned a bachelor's degree ;-)

There was not a lot of intrinsic motivation happening at that time. Which was a shame, because my childhood in Vermont was all about intrinsic motivation. My teachers were incredibly creative and dedicated to nurturing our innate talents. Sherburne Elementary was a tiny school -- 8-10 students in each grade -- and we were grouped in two giant classrooms, one holding grades 1-3 and the other, grades 4-6. There were few rules -- except study what you love.  We were even charged with arranging our octagonal desks and room dividers in a style that was conducive to our particular type of learning. And I thrived.

But somehow that love of learning for the sheer joy of it became lost when we moved across the country, to Allen, South Dakota on the Pine Ridge Reservation. I attended a conventional public school for the first time…and so began my indoctrination into checking off boxes and “getting through” my classes.

Public school was incredibly boring. I joined everything I could think to get out of it -- swimming, track, band, choir, and something called “Declam” (kind of like a one-person theatrical performance). It morphed into a pattern: “Get through” the class and check off the box. (Daydreaming was A-OK, particularly if I had a less-than-engaging instructor.)

But Goddard changed all of that. At my first practicum, I was told I would be writing my own curriculum. I was to study whatever intrinsically motivated me, whatever I wanted to learn about.

That first day, I had no idea of what to do, what to think. I was so used to being left-brain linear, being told exactly what I needed to do… And all of a sudden I was given no plan. I had to come up with one on my own.

I remember being at a complete loss, utterly confused. My graduate adviser kept telling me to “trust the process.” I had no idea what the H that meant. All I knew was that I was in between two worlds: the left logical and linear brain that got me through all things academic to date… and this very interesting right brain world… that felt comfortable, familiar and exciting…but also scary and dangerous.

Yet once I got over myself, began to open up and trust the process, I did my very best academic work at Goddard (my master’s thesis research was published as my first book).

Perhaps what was a most valuable takeaway, I learned that you can start with a plan and midway through semester, new discoveries can emerge to take you in an entirely new direction.

That’s how I ended up in sociology, as a matter of fact. My undergraduate major was communication and I loved writing -- especially about topics that really mattered. At first I thought it was psychology…but as I began taking courses in sociology, I quickly realized that was my niche, what I loved exploring the most. You just never know where a journey might take you.

So begins the advice that I give to my own students now, who stop by during office hours, wanting to know exactly what courses to take… to earn this degree or that one.

I tell them (to quote my all-time fave Thoreau), “March confidently in the direction of your dreams.” Take classes that pique your interest... Give each your full attention...and then process, ponder, reflect....begin to rule out those fields and subjects that just don't resonate... Over time, the path will narrow...and you'll know exactly what you were meant to do.

I remind them (and myself) that we can’t force outcomes in anything in life… No matter how hard we try, we won’t ever have a precise plan with the exact details completely worked out well in advance. But we can aim the camera toward a Monet-like view, several F-stops away from focus. And in time, everything will happen, exactly at it is supposed to unfold. Just trust the process.

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