I passed my qualifying exam (QUAL) and I expected to feel accomplished… to feel like I had conquered something, but regretfully I don’t think I’ve ever felt smaller or more defeated in my entire academic career. I expected to feel celebrated, but all my P.I. said was “Yay!” No champagne pop, no party. 

It took a very special effort on my part to figure out where my next lab home could be after leaving my previous advisor in Fall of 2021.  I thought I made a strong choice.

Because of the switch I had to take additional coursework in my new department while preparing for my QUAL. I passed Immunology by the skin of my teeth (or whatever the girls say to mean barely). I barely passed because the academy and its stewards (PIs) value deliverables in the form of graphs and tables, but not the reading and writing required to anchor me in my cross-disciplinary project that I pioneered after joining this new lab. I was expected to do experiments and learn new skills…  while studying and reading and annotating and writing… This quantity and variety of work was not sustainable and I did not want to enter my qualifying exam wondering if I was going to pass. I wanted to enter with confidence. When I decreased some of my lab responsibilities, I was met with backlash.

 According to the steward, I have not been productive at the bench, my quality of benchwork is low and the time spent in the lab is minimal. He said my performance needed improvement and for the first time in all of my academic career, my excellent black ass was placed on academic probation. I am one of a minority of students who entered the qualifying exam with preliminary data. Statistically significant preliminary data. N values 20 and above… Riddle me that.

As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

I felt isolated as I composed my thesis, an 18-page document filled with background, experimental design and rationale, pitfalls and alternative experiments to validate my hypothesis. I did not feel comfortable working with my PI, so I turned to other graduate students to give me feedback on my proposal; to make it more robust or “tight” as a good friend of mine would say. It just needed to be “defendable.” 

My goal was to study enough to speak from a place of informed curiosity instead of trained fear and timidity.

After submitting the written portion, one then prepares for the oral examination, a 2-hour defense of the contents of the proposal. 2 hours is a long time to be questioned. You start the exam with a 15-minute oral presentation to your QUAL exam committee members and then the questioning begins. 

There was a single question that I couldn’t find the words to answer because it felt so basal through my topic that I had not even prepared an answer for it. This question came about 1 hour in and I felt my confidence crumble as the tone changed in the room. I felt dumb. The final question was something like: “So you expect me to believe that X leads to Y? And that this X you have selected is important enough to affect Y?” To which I said yes, gave a final justification and left the room for my committee to deliberate over my performance. 

I immediately started bawling my eyes out.  I had been warned by a few administrators that I had to PERFORM on the QUAL or it might be an opportune moment to usher me out of the program, especially considering my PI had me placed on academic probation. 

As I waited, I said “God please I can’t do this again.” I must have repeated this sentence over 20 times while I waited for what felt like forever. I felt blood rush to my forehead as my fifth headache of the week set in on this fine Thursday afternoon. I felt the congestion build in my nose as a cried and rocked myself back and forth waiting for a decision. Please, God I can’t do this again. 

And when I say this I’m not just talking about the defense.  I’m talking about the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy. I’m talking about the fear. I’m talking about the stress. I’m talking about the sleepless nights. I’m talking about the caffeine re-addiction. I’m talking about the eating dysregulation. I’m talking about my insomnia coming back. I’m talking about being surveilled while I study. I’m talking about writing my qualifying exam alone and receiving minimal positive feedback from someone who signed paperwork saying that they would guide me through my PhD. I’m talking about not feeling comfortable enough ask my “mentor” a simple question for months on end as I do something that I’ve never done before in a space that people like me have seldom occupied before and certainly have never been welcomed in. 

When they let me back into the room, the tone had completely switched. The people who grilled me for 2 hours, were suddenly so proud of me.

 “Congratulations, Stefanie! You put up a good fight. You passed… almost with Honors.” 

I left my body after that. They said a lot of words to me as I choked on my tears. In the privacy of my apartment, I fell on the floor and I bawled my eyes out. I lost control of my breathing. A full panic attack had set in and I hadn’t had one like like this since 2017.  I had to phone a friend. I phoned the first, no answer. I phoned my brothers, no answer. I looked at the ceiling. God I’m not going to be able to make it out of this one alone. I called one more friend and she answered. She coached me through some deep breaths. I let out a cough and a gasp much like that of a newborn. She made me laugh. I released the tension from my airways as I finally brought myself to the present. 

I’m on a medical leave of absence from my program. Chronic stress precipitates a breadth of issues.

I just keep thinking about “You put up a good fight.” Why are you fighting me? What exactly are we fighting over?

Until next time, 

Stef