Chapter Nine

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After my trip to NYC to meet with Caraja, I returned home dejected

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After my trip to NYC to meet with Caraja, I returned home dejected. I spent a couple of days wallowing in self-pity and then I shook it off. I was laboring against some residual health problems from my surgery, atrophy from my condition, and deep emotional wounds from my failing seven-year relationship with Nora. I jumped right into my thesis research and produced as many pages as I could. I sent Professor Caraja about a dozen pages by his May 21 deadline, but did not hear from him for weeks. Finally, on July 27 he sent me an edited version of the dozen pages that I had sent him for my thesis. In an attached letter he stated, "You are certainly on the right track and there are some good moments in the material you sent me. Of course, as you are well aware, you have a great deal of work to do." I knew how much toil lay ahead, but I was determined to finish.

I read through his comments and digested them, but I did not have the luxury of applying those suggestions to my work because it was already early August and the retake of my exam was less than two months away. I knew I had to put the thesis aside and focus on my exam. Immediately I threw myself into the task of reviewing the information for my exam. This time the preparation was torture. I was burned out from my nearly constant work on the exam and thesis. It seemed that the harder I tried to absorb the information the less my brain wanted to retain it. But I told myself that I had worked hard to get to that position and if I could just sprint through the finish line and perform well on the test, I would have only the thesis as the last hurdle before I would finally get my degree. However, in order to take the exam again in the fall I had to pay another fee to maintain my matriculation. After three years my time at Hunter had started to feel like an unending cycle of fees, setbacks and disappointments.

The night before the second exam, I again had a terrible time getting to sleep. I finally managed to fall asleep about half an hour before my alarm went off. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, I forced myself to go down to the gym and exercise for twenty minutes to wake up. I went upstairs and took a cold shower afterward, and then took the train into Manhattan. I felt awful—very similar to how I felt before the first exam. When I reached Hunter I grabbed a large coffee and went into the test, ready to let it fly. I've never liked tests, but during my time at Hunter I had grown to hate them. Again, in the room full of people taking the comprehensive I was the only one taking my particular exam. When my pen hit the paper the words flowed out. Surprisingly, I settled into a bit of a groove and everything felt a little better and more familiar than the first exam. When I finished I was sure I had finally passed, and I went out with my friends and celebrated.

For weeks I waited for the results, which I thought would only be a formality since I could not possibly have failed a second time after an improved performance. When I received the email from Professor Rosencrass informing me that I had once again failed my comp exam at Hunter I flipped out. I am usually a fairly calm and even-tempered individual unless I am pushed to great lengths. I screamed nearly to the point of tears, swore, and threw things. In the email, Professor Rosencrass told me that he and the chair, Professor Belview, wanted to meet with me about my future in the program because, after two failed exams, I could be kicked out. The entire process had been psychologically damaging and draining in every way. I found out about the test because I checked my email as I was taking a break from working on my thesis, which was to be handed in to Professor Caraja at the end of January. But the retake of the test was at the end of February, so I would have to pay for the thesis and study again for the test, still with no guarantee of a degree. I was now three and a half years into the program, and the whole experience had made me question my desire to become a professor. I was uncertain that I would get a degree after investing even more exorbitant amounts of time and money.

I found myself seriously considering leaving before the system changed me even further. During my long layoff, I considered all of these things and sent Professors Belview and Rosencrass a carefully worded letter about my situation. Upon reading it they told me to make an appointment to speak with both of them, because after two failed exams, I could be kicked out of the program. 

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