With the birth of my second son earlier this semester, I’ve re-entered a season of intense parenting—well, intense life, to be honest. Writing the last chapter of my dissertation, parenting two boys under three, and looking for a post-PhD job all at the same time is not a task for the faint of heart. It’s not a mere logistical challenge, but an emotional one as well. At the same time that our family is adjusting to the arrival of its newest member, I’m experiencing the very significant and personal transition of finishing my graduate career. I’m also looking ahead to the future, though it’s still uncertain at this point what it will hold.
One unexpected benefit of this time, however, has been the opportunity to reflect upon how the past seven years of graduate school have shaped me. Indeed, entering the job market has required this kind of critical reflection, as writing cover letters has forced me to articulate my future research plans and how they inform my teaching (and vice versa). There’s something else that I’ve been thinking about, though—something that I can’t include in any cover letter, but that is equally significant, and that’s how my experience of classroom teaching has shaped me as an individual and more directly, as a parent.
