I'm less than two weeks away from moving to a new city and university. It seems as though I've been waiting for this moment for eons. Having signed my contract a few months ago and having promised myself to take it easy for the first part of summer, my days have been fairly lackadaisical and slow. In the run up to the moving truck's arrival, things have certainly picked up. I've had much to coordinate, organize, and pack. The process has been draining, both physically and emotionally.
Today, it really struck me that I'll be leaving what has been my home for seven years. In all of the excitement of starting a new adventure, I haven't taken the time to pay homage to the places that have made the adventure possible in the first place. We move for many reasons: necessity, opportunity, ambition. But we always take with us pieces of the places we left behind. This is my ode to the University of Maryland and my recognition that I am taking so many fantastic pieces with me.
I came to the University of Maryland in July of 2007, just a month after graduating with my bachelor's degree. As an undergraduate, I gravitated towards the thoroughly unemployable subjects of medieval history and Spanish language and literature, but I was fortunate to learn about the field of higher education and student affairs through experiences as a resident assistant and member of student government. I had dreams of emulating our remarkably approachable and gifted vice president of student development, so I applied to and enrolled in a student affairs master's program at the University of Maryland.
As soon as I arrived, I felt like a fish out of water. I was coming from a small university and, before that, a small town. The transition was one of the most severe I have ever encountered. The students were different, the campus was different, the city was different. I missed my girlfriend (now wife), who was finishing her last year at our alma matter. In many ways, I didn't have the emotional maturity to handle so much change. After a few months, I gave serious thought to quitting. I hated the city, hated the university, and hated the program. I even talked to my adviser about what I needed to do to withdraw, which is somewhat comical to me now, since I had no backup plan. At the time, it was traumatic.
Something important happened in the winter of that first year. First, I decided to switch to a different program in my department, one whose focus was more global. I reasoned, at the time, that it was a better fit for me, since I studied abroad several times in college and studied topics outside the United States. In retrospect, I was romanticized by the possibility of travel and, at the time, had a penchant for abruptly changing course and escaping adversity. Second, I connected with my best friend. I say connected because, as he likes to tell anyone and everyone, we had met long before we started hanging out. He says that I purposefully ignored him, while I insist that I was a wreck and oblivious to people through the first semester of graduate school. It matters little now. We became roommates, he was my best man, and he's still my main man. He is an enormous piece of this place that will travel with me and likely bring me back, hopefully as much as possible.
My new program turned out to be a great fit. Something I have cherished about my program is its flexibility. I have a strong case of academic ADD, and I never would have lasted in an overly structured program that forced me to take a prescribed list of courses. My program had three required courses, and the rest of the curriculum was designed by me, in collaboration with my adviser. I enjoyed the coursework, and before long, I started to see the university through a different set of lenses. Given my new international bent, I looked to switch to a more global graduate assistantship, which marked the next important turning point in my relationship with the place I leave behind. I started working for a living-learning program called Global Communities. When I arrived, the program had just been resurrected by an amazingly talented director. It had turned into a strong community of thoughtful, fascinating students from a dozen different countries. This quickly became my community as well. I had a home on campus, somewhere to belong.
When the director of the program left, I had the gumption, despite my youth and inexperience, to apply for her job. Looking back on it now, I still don't understand how I got it. I was 23 years old and had only a year of part-time university work experience under my belt. They saw something, however, and I soon jumped into running a program and supervising a small staff. I loved the work and did some good things for the program. We developed service-learning modules, and once again, the university placed a great deal of trust in my abilities by granting permission to lead a short-term study abroad program. For the next three years, I took groups to study education and social change in Turkey. I often chuckle at how insane it was to be responsible for the lives of 12 people when I barely had my own life under control. The program was doing well, but in the eyes of the administration, it wasn't maximizing its potential. They moved us to a new unit and decided to name a tenured faculty member as director. I was demoted and promoted at the same time. I lost complete control of the program, but I got a new title and a raise. It wasn't all bad, but I disagreed with the direction the program was heading. Despite these bumps, I take a piece of Global Communities and its wonderful students with me to my new role.
It was clear to me that to do the work I enjoyed in higher education, I needed a PhD. In truth, I had felt the itch to get my doctorate early in my studies. So, I went back to school in my same department. I spent a year taking courses and working full-time, meaning my studies and my job each suffered some. My wife was supportive and resigned to the fact that I just needed to do this. I left my job and became a full-time graduate student. Most days, I was deeply fulfilled doing graduate work. Like most people, I had times when I asked, "What is the point?" and "Who cares about this topic?" Thankfully, I had built a strong network of people inside and outside my program who helped me navigate these moments. Some of them were ahead of me in the program, and they coached me through the rough patches. Others worked on campus in the student union (you know who you are) and provided needed encouragement. All of these people, the mentors and friends, are pieces that I carry.
In my final years as a graduate student, as I entered comprehensive exams and dissertation research, I started a new graduate assistantship in the Office of Faculty Affairs. It is a strange thing, after coming to the university to work with students, to finish in an office where students only come by accident. I now exclusively deal with faculty and academic administrators. In the process, I have met remarkable people, including a host of true leaders whose example is one to emulate. In addition, I now walk into my job as an assistant professor with a thorough understanding of the academic profession. No job can prepare me for the coming year, but I at least have a sense of the issues and resources. I have no doubt that I will draw upon the lessons learned in the Office of Faculty Affairs for years to come.
The University of Maryland is where I launched my career, where I met my closest friends, where I learned to become a professional, where I pursued my intellectual passions, and where I came to embrace myself and adulthood. I am so grateful to have spent the last seven years here, and I will cherish the people who have made this place so special.
I know for a fact that my new institution will be very different. On some dark days, I'm sure I will even regret having ever left the University of Maryland. During those times, I'll turn to the pieces that got me to this point--the best friend, the community, the mentors--and push on with fond memories. I'll miss you, Terps.
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