Commencement weekend was fantastic. I love graduation – it’s about closure for me.
Pomp and circumstance.
A speech.
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I grew up in the mountain west in a rural community as one of seven children. As you can imagine, having such a large family involved a great deal of organization and work, so my mom would make up lists of chores for each of the kids to complete every day. These chore lists began at a young age and included tasks such as mowing the lawn, finishing our homework, practicing the piano for an hour, or helping to re-shingle to roof. Quite frequently, I would complain that I did not want to do a certain chore, citing it as "too hard." My mother's nonchalant response was always the same: "Do it anyway."
At the time, I thought she was being mean; however, I now understand that she was teaching me one of the greatest lessons of my life: that I can accomplish difficult tasks. A friend of mine has a distressed, wooden sign on a shelf in her home with the phrase "We can do hard things" painted on it. I don't know where this phrase originated, but I think it's the perfect motto for graduate school. We can do hard things - we have done hard things.
Early in our graduate training, we took courses designed to hone our analytical reasoning skills. We read hundreds of scientific papers, and were grilled in front our classmates - sometimes, we felt, rather ruthlessly - about the authors' hypotheses, methods, results, and conclusions. Inevitably, we were singled out to critically analyze the one figure in a paper that we had thought was unimportant and had therefore skipped over. We learned not to skip figures. Some of our courses were hard, but we completed them anyway.
We spent months studying and preparing for qualifying exams. We poured through scientific literature, and exhausted Pubmed and Wikipedia and Google to make sure we had considered every modicum of information needed to pass. Qualifying exams were hard, but we took them anyway.
We conducted research. We planned large experiments, labeled hundreds of tubes, meticulously prepared reagents, and planned every last detail. We came in on holidays and weekends. We stayed up all night collecting samples for time courses. We ate popcorn out of vending machines for dinner, and slept at (or under) our desks. At last, when we analyzed our data, hoping to obtain the exciting and groundbreaking results that would land us a Nature paper, we discovered instead that the experiment we had put so much time and thought into hadn't worked. So we did it all again. And again, and again. Our cells died. Our microscopes and cell sorters broke. Our test subjects didn't show up. Our radiation didn't show up. The number 1 bus didn't show up (until an hour and a half later, when six showed up at once). Some of our setbacks were not our fault; others were. We broke flasks, spilled samples, used the wrong antibodies, pipeted into the wrong tubes, tore our gels, and cracked our coverslips. We started over. We learned to "keep on keepin' on." Research was often very hard, but we did it anyway.
But here's the thing - we didn't do it alone. We accomplished our goals of obtaining doctorates in our chosen fields with the help of a lot of people; with the help of the people here today. You: our advisors, our administrators, our friends, and our families.
Our advisors not only taught us the mechanical skills of the trade, they taught us how to think; to look deeper; to ask the right questions. You weren't afraid to let us know when we needed to work harder. You weren't afraid to give us a kick in the pants... metaphorically. But you also weren't afraid to give us the freedom to grow into scientists. You watched us fail. You watched us make huge mistakes. This was probably a little frustrating at times. You watched us waste grant money. This was probably more than a little frustrating at times. But when we fell flat, you helped us up, brushed us off... and told us get back to work. To our advisors and other professors who have taught us so much - we thank you.
Our administrators at BU have been outstanding. You have maintained a consistent dialogue students to improve the training graduates students receive at the BU school of medicine with regard to coursework, opportunities to share our research, and helping students balance schoolwork with other demands. Within a few weeks of becoming the new Associate Provost, you - Dr. Linda Hyman - worked with a steering committee to implemented the GMS program's very first parental-leave policy for graduate students, a policy that not only speaks highly of the program, but also has made an enormous difference for several of us who have found ourselves the lucky and exhausted recipients of tiny, diaper-wearing humans. To our deans, provosts, department chairs, and directors of graduate studies - we thank you.
Our friends in and out of school (do any of us still have friends outside of school?) have saved our sanity during these years. Once or twice, we may have complained to you about graduate school. You buoyed us up and helped us maintain perspective during discouraging times. We spent countless hours laughing, and making memories at Clery's and JJ Foley's. As Dar Williams sings, "Through the peaks and twisty canyons, [we've] made many great companions." I have no doubt that the friendships we've made during our studies will persist throughout the years. Friends, thank you.
Our spouses and significant others have put up with a lot. You have suffered through our long hours at the lab, our last-minute cancellations, and our inability to stop obsessing about our research. You've (hopefully) forgiven us for forgetting our anniversaries and for working late on Valentine's Day. We know we have been difficult partners at times, and we are so grateful for the sacrifices you have made while we've been in graduate school.
Finally, our parents, siblings, and extended families have made this day possible in a thousand different ways. We have been in school for a long, long time, which means that you have been supporting us for a long, long time. You have given us encouragement, helped us through financial difficulties, taken care of our children as though they were your own, and cheered for us every step of the way. We love you and are profoundly grateful to you for every large and tiny way you have helped us pursue our dreams.
I'll end by reminding you that "commencement" means "a beginning." We are finished with our degrees, and now it is time to use what we've learned to make the world a better place. We face discouraging statistics with regard to the economy and funding available for research in the biomedical sciences, but we owe it to those who have helped us so much along the way to go out in the world and be excellent. It will be hard, but we'll do it anyway.
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Tim, Erin, and I started our PhD programs on the same day. We also graduated on the same day – this is a pretty rare occurrence since doctoral programs in our field are wildly variable in length. I was so very happy to be able to walk with them.
The hoodings (photos put on 10 pounds; graduation robes put on 50 pounds):
It is an understatement to say that we made some memories during our years together. We’ve bonded for life.
My advisor and I:
Tim’s mom very generously hosted a celebration dinner.
Thank you to Cami and Karen, who used some kind of witch magic to keep my girls quiet to commencement.
Thank you to Lance, Cami, my mom, and my dad for the photos.
Thank you to Karen and Tim’s sister Jen for flying out from Denver and Georgia to hang out with us for the weekend – meant the world to us!
