Browse Category

Blog

A Not-So-Glorious Return: Reflections of a PhD Graduate

It’s been a while! 6 years it seems since I last wrote anything here. There have been many times I’ve wanted to jot something down, but as will be the theme of this post, I’ve been pretty busy.

PhD programs are difficult! This might be obvious to most of you but what can I say, sometimes mountains look like hills from below. But against all odds, I seem to have made it to the peak (at least that’s what the “official email” from ProQuest seems to suggest.)

As the title may imply, it’s all felt a bit anti-climactic. For some context, at this time last year, my graduation requirements were essentially to finish my final two Breadth Requirements (CS 131, Programming Languages, and CS M151B, Computer Systems Architecture) and then file and defend my thesis, which was more or less complete since it had already been accepted for independent publication. Each class I had attempted a few times already but just given up partway through because either research was more important, the coursework got too difficult, or I just wasn’t interested enough.

Even though these are undergraduate level courses, they’re notoriously difficult and dense classes with little to no theory component, which is my strength. Not to mention the reason I was taking them in the first place is that I majored in math, meaning I don’t technically even fulfill the pre-requisites for these classes. Oh and did I mention I have to get at least a B to earn credit? And if there’s no room in the class (often the case) I have to audit the course and base my entire grade on exam scores, making that B even harder to get.

So guess what, I failed! A lot! I think over the course of the entire program, I must have attempted each of these courses at least 5 times. And I felt worse than awful. Not only was I terrified of delaying my graduation, a huge reason I wasn’t succeeding in these classes was that my mental health was in serious decline. I was going through a difficult breakup, some close family members were having significant health issues, and this on top of all the normal grad student stresses of research deadlines, money, etcetera, I was running on empty.

Needless to say, I was desperately looking forward to the light at the end of the tunnel that was graduation. The idea of building up the life that I want (starting with a real paycheck and some 9-5 structure) became what I felt like I needed to “fix” myself.

Eventually I backed myself into enough of a corner to buckle down and earn the credits I needed to graduate. I always was good under pressure. And slowly, one-by-one, the dominoes of “graduation” started to fall. But, because of my string of failures, the chronology was a bit awkward.

First, before I even knew the results of my final CS 131 exam, I had my graduation party, which had been planned by my wonderful mother months ago. Without knowing any results, I felt no real relief from the mountain of stress I was under, but being around my friends and family was very healing.

The day after that I walked at commencement. It was a bit boring, as usual, but my family loved it (which is the point). I wasn’t able to participate in the doctoral hooding ceremony because I delayed my coursework for too long, which delayed my thesis submission, and Grad Division is apparently “a stickler about these types of things.” That one hurt more than expected.

Mostly these things felt empty to me. I was just focused intently on filing and defending my thesis over the summer. I had originally planned to graduate in the Spring obviously, so I was hoping to take the summer off to prevent burnout before I started full-time work, but that plan dissipated when I realized I’d need more money to actually relax. So I signed a GSR contract and committed to do research for the summer while I worked on my thesis.

Once the good news of my exam scores finally came in, it was time to schedule my defense. Fun fact about academia: getting an entire PhD thesis committee in the same room at the same time is infinitely harder than actually defending your work! After six weeks of not-worth-explaining scheduling nonsense, we landed on a date at the end of August.

The defense came and went (that part was easy, I’m a teacher after all) and I encroached upon the final step, filing. This should really be the easiest part, right? Make a few proofreading edits, add a new style template, and turn it in. But I couldn’t do it.

I passed my defense on August 26th and then spent two weeks unable to even bring myself to the computer to work. All this time I had fantasized about graduation, denied myself any sense of pride because I “hadn’t earned it yet”, pushed toward this goal with everything I had. But now, for some reason, I couldn’t take the final step across the finish line.

Part of this had to do with my breakup. Without getting too personal, graduation had been a milestone I was looking forward to sharing with her, not to mention getting a job afterwards and starting a life together. But it also felt like more than that. It felt like an unwillingness to allow myself to be happy. It felt like fear.

Of course I filed my thesis once I realized the deadline was approaching (pressure, my dear old friend) and after dealing with the consequences of my apparently-not-solved tuition issues (administrative offices are an archaic concept that should be abolished), I now sit here having officially earned my PhD from UCLA.

Unfortunately, and maybe expectedly for a wiser reader, this was not a magic pill that has “fixed me”, whatever that means. I still feel the fear of moving forward, of allowing myself to create something new, something good for me. Rather, graduation feels like a bit of space and time to figure out what that looks like.

I am still looking forward to starting full-time work (I am looking for opportunities as of this post) but I’m more excited about having a new therapist that works for me. I’m happy that my family is starting to heal, and that I’ve grown enough to prioritize what I need over what I want.

To those who have been by my side throughout this journey, I sadly don’t have the words to express my gratitude. Even though these past 5 years have been incredibly difficult, they’ve bettered me in ways I would never take back.

The future is bright 🙂

It doesn’t matter if your kid is good at math

In my tutoring and teaching experience I’ve met many different types of children. Some are visual learners, some need to use their hands. Some have been doing math since they were two, and some are just trying to catch up. Each student presents unique challenges. One big challenge for a teacher is to identify obstacles: what is preventing this child’s understanding? What do they misunderstand, but more importantly, why? Although difficult to do well, most dedicated teachers can accomplish this. 

The next, more difficult obstacle, is the topic of this post. Is this child motivated to correct the misunderstanding? 

Motivation is tricky for children. If left up to them, lunch would be candy and dinner would be ice cream. Since their decisions aren’t always good for them long-term, it becomes the parent’s responsibility to make these decisions for them. Furthermore, it’s tempting for parents to identify their child’s strengths and do their best to develop those strengths while they’re young. After all, learning is easiest at a young age. Often children don’t enjoy school, but education is important and the role of a parent is to guide their children, not to constantly please them. Learning to do things that you don’t like is a valuable skill, even if it makes the child unhappy, right?

My experience has not supported this line of reasoning. As valuable as a skill may be, and as gifted as any child may be, no one can learn the material for them. If they don’t want to solve the problem, they won’t. Even if they know the solution, if they don’t think the knowledge is valuable, they often won’t care enough to tell you. This is the most important factor, in my opinion, for a child’s education. 

Children learn heavily by association. If they are asked to try a new food, they hesitate. They associate it with other foods they’ve already tried, via appearance, smell, texture, etc., and judge whether they think they will like it or not. As hunter gatherers this behavior was extremely useful: better safe than sorry when trying new berries off of a bush. But, in today’s world, this impulse has consequences. Regardless of a child’s mathematical capabilities, if they associate math with negative feelings, they will avoid it like the plague. And as soon as this happens, all real learning halts.

Parents often ask me, “is my child strong in math?” Understandably, they want my opinion, having experience with other students. But like their children, parents sometimes miss the bigger picture. Parents know their child is talented, but may not acknowledge that they would rather be doing anything but math. It’s easy to tell when a child associates math negatively. You can see it on their face when they walk in the door. Children are great at faking negative emotions, but terrible at hiding them. Often they come right out and say it, “I hate math.” Despite this, parents often continue to push their child to higher and higher levels in hopes that mathematical strength will bring them success. When the child gets no satisfaction from learning the material, proficiency must be rewarded in other ways to maintain growth. Often it is sugary snacks, or in some cases a monetary incentive. These rewards, however, only further perpetuate the narrative that math is a chore. Inevitably, after years of “because I said so” and “your education is important,” the child grows to associate math with authority. Unless this association is broken, the child will just be looking for a way to stop learning math. Whether it’s goofing off in class, underperforming on tests, or just a bad attitude, the symptoms reveal themselves. So yes, your child is strong in math for now. But, they “hate” it, so they won’t be strong for very long. 

When I was my pupils’ age, my mom insisted I take tennis lessons. I hadn’t had very good experiences with sports and coaches, so I was hesitant. Like any good mother, she convinced me to give it a gentleman’s try. I liked it, sort of, and took lessons for a few years. But, when I got to middle school and my values shifted, I decided I didn’t like tennis anymore. My mom said no problem, and I stopped. Just like that. Flash forward four years: I’m in high school, and I didn’t make the baseball team. Besides being secretly relieved (I hadn’t had the courage to tell my parents I didn’t like it), I wanted to find a sport to play. My values had shifted again, and I now understood sports were good for my fitness, good for making friends, and all-around fun. Having some experience with it, I picked up tennis again, and my skills were pretty rusty. But I remembered liking tennis when I was young, and that’s what gave me the motivation to try it again. 

When I was even younger, my father, a dermatologist, started protecting my skin. Any skin visible to the eye was always properly lathered in sunscreen. To an adult, sunscreen is objectively beneficial. It prevents cancer, sunburn, and doesn’t seem to have harmful side effects. To my younger self, however, sunscreen is the gross cream that Dad always makes me put on. Unlike tennis, sunscreen wasn’t a choice I was allowed to make. So the sunscreen stayed, and I whined. And I whined, and I whined, and I whined and one day, Dad wasn’t there anymore. I was in college, my friends wanted to go to the beach, and sunscreen cost six dollars. Just like that, endangering my health became an act of rebellion and independence. I consider myself a very logical person, and it’s difficult to this day finding the motivation to put on sunscreen. How then, can one expect an 8-year old to find the motivation to learn math, if it’s been forced down their throat since pre-school?

As a teacher, I strive to create as much enthusiasm as possible in the classroom, so that my students associate math with enjoyable and relevant experiences. It is similarly important for the parent to take on that responsibility. In my time as a math student and a math teacher, I find that if long-term mathematical strength is the primary goal, then fondness toward math is of vital importance. The math that the child enjoys might not be the most advanced curriculum, and it might not even improve their test scores right away. But it will make them like math, so that when they do realize how useful it is, they have the motivation to pursue it. Instead of trying to determine if your child is good at math, ask them if they like math. If the answer is yes, don’t worry about how strong or weak they are. Put them with other people who love math, and the rest will come. 

If the answer is no, incorporate math into their everyday life. Children need to see math in the things they love. For instance, probability dictates board game strategy. Statistics are embedded in every sport known to man. I’ve even had a student ask me to teach her geometry in order to calculate the surface area of her tiled bathroom floor! With these strategies, a mathematical foundation will be a byproduct of general youthful curiosity. When they discover how math affects their everyday lives, they will be ready. 

Hello World!

As a programmer, the title only seemed apt. Although this post is mainly for testing purposes, in the interest of robust aesthetics, I’ll add some of my passing thoughts as my summer vacation passes me idly by.

I’m at the very start of my two week stint back in Harford County, MD, my hometown. In two weeks I’ll be embarking on a cross-country road trip back to UCLA, which I’m currently planning. Starting from Baltimore, we’ll cross 15 states hitting 11 cities. We’ll begin by venturing down south toward Nashville, Tennessee, and then shift to a northwestern route toward Seattle. After that we’re set to head south along Route 1, taking in anything and everything the west coast has to offer. Needless to say, I’m excited.

However, my feelings are not all of excitement. After my two years in Westwood, Harford County feels like a ghost town. For my two weeks here, my schedule includes planning my road trip, seeing my grandparents, and meeting up with exactly one childhood friend. How is it that in a place where I lived 18 long years, a place where the concept of Eli Jaffe was shaped and molded, how can I have so little to return to? I don’t mean this in a pitiful way, I seek no pity. In fact, my loose connections have made much easier my transition to life at UCLA, and I am truly grateful, as this stage of my life is one I cherish every day. I only mean that this place has been a constant throughout my entire upbringing. What does it mean then, that I feel so little nostalgia? Either my childhood relationships and experiences must be lacking in some element, or I have somehow forgotten the joys of my youth. Why is it that so many others feel the comfort of their hometown so strongly, yet I feel nothing? Furthermore, is this phenomenon isolated, or will it continue? I love UCLA. The idea of my cherished memories fading away seems preposterous in the here and now. But would I not have felt the same 10 years ago? At the time, I was living the best days of my life. If I move on to bigger and better things, will these moments slip away like those of the past?

I suppose it’s a paradoxical question. If the aim of life is to generate happiness, I should be glad that my present life dwarfs my past, for that naturally implies I’m on an upward trajectory. But what a sad world to live in, where improving the quality of your life denigrates the quality of your memories.

This post got a little more involved than it was meant to, but I guess that’s what writing does. Hello world, and welcome to my mind. I hope you enjoy yourself.