A Mad Education

There has been a burden hanging over me for the past couple of weeks, and I'd love to get your feedback on the matter. In late 2009 I received about $4,000 in grant money to complete an independent research project. During my time studying abroad in India I missed the deadline to apply for a thesis. Believing thesis to be "proof" of a well-earned education, I decided to undertake the independent research project as comparable a display of my progress in education.

The entire thing quickly ballooned into a much bigger, more difficult endeavor than I foresaw. The application process was tedious: in order to work with human subjects, I had to apply to a national committee, who decided whether or not my project protected subjects against undue harm. Only after their approval could I actually begin working in March of 2010. The aim was to discover the short-term adjustments made by refugees their first 90 days in the United States. I worked with the Emily Griffith Opportunity School's Colorado Refugee English as a Second Language Program (CRESL). There, I volunteered in the classroom, garnering information through participant observation. I also interviewed refugees and other professionals. Finally, I did a lot of background research.

This project would have been difficult regardless of any other pressures. Naturally, I was not operating within a void, and the project seemed to coincide with so many other stressors in my life. It really took off in June, during the time when I had two mental breakdowns, got a new apartment, broke up with my boyfriend, had a computer crash, etc. It also has been, in a nutshell, an endless pain in my behind. Over a year of effort led me to produce the piece of work I am most proud of in the entirety of my academic career (all 100-some pages of it) but I cannot enumerate the number of times I almost gave up. Even my ED had a hand in it: I tried to volunteer a lot because it forced me to stand and move with little time to eat. I look back on those hours and feel regret: I struggled to keep up in class and to be patient and obsessed about whatever workout or meal I planned next. I would have been a much better tutor had I been truly present.

Why did I keep working on the project, despite the burden it placed on my life? I needed the credits, yes, but I didn't have to discipline myself within it. The project became a standard at which to measure myself and my entire college career.It was silly, because I had very little experience in refugee studies or anthropology, teaching myself a lot along the way.

On the other hand, working with refugees has been one of the most fulfilling activities I have ever done. It began my sophomore year to meet a community service requirement and I never let it go. Working with them was a gift; it provided perspective and introduced me to some of the most compassionate and courageous people I have ever met. I really love them. But locked in my self-made prison, it was hard to feel much love at all.

Fast forward to today. The final grant requirement that I present my project with other students at a symposium on May 5th. It is a half-day event that also consists of a keynote speaker and luncheon. My presentation is a 10-minute speech with Powerpoint and I have invited my parents, grandparents, professor, and two staff of the Emily Griffith Opportunity School to attend. The thought of going back to DU in less than two weeks paralyzes me.

I am so afraid of what it will feel like to stand in front of a crowd and present a project whose grid work outlines my personal digression. I am afraid of people noting my weight gain. I am afraid of looking stupid, standing between other students who studied rare diseases and created minor miracles. I am afraid of the luncheon. At this point I can't even bring myself to make the Powerpoint!

However, I am proud of my project (mostly, I'm proud of not giving up on it) and I would feel worthless if I didn't see it through to the end. I have a responsibility to the granting organization, to the refugees at EGOS, and to myself. Once again, this project can be a way for me to prove my inner strength.

Yet, my therapist says some things are never resolved, and that's OK. So she has challenged me to work on it for one hour every night, at which point I will journal how I'm feeling. If the project is still a "should" than it "should" be dropped. Otherwise, I've got my answer.

May 5th will be tomorrow any day now. If you were me, what would you do?
(You can always e-mail me at emilytonellistewart@gmail.com)