Year Two Through

Year Two: I thought I’d made a terrible mistake. I thought I’d unwittingly abandoned history (my undergraduate degree) and thrown myself into a discipline I knew nothing about and could never know anything about because what even is German Studies? I grasped at literary straws and struggled to sort through new academic jargon (see Year 1 of grad school). I was therefore elated to take a history class this past semester, to prove that maybe I had made the wrong choice in field. But taking that class actually made me feel happier in my chosen home of German Studies. Because that's what year 2 has felt like: home.

It seemed that history in graduate school is a lot more historiography (at least in this course it was), or talking about what everyone has said about events, rather than exploring historical oddities and quirky personalities and events (not the analysis of events) that changed the world.

But literature? The main chunk of German Studies I'm investing myself in?

Literature is endless. The stories are new. The themes familiar. The scenes unsettling. The accidental incest rampant.

There's still theory there. But I get fresh material to apply theories.
Or vice versa?

I’m trying to remember what I thought grad school would be like two years ago, before I moved to Indiana. I think I expected to it to be like college on steroids. Every reading assignment quadrupled. Every writing assignment over 20 pages. People wearing clothing that matched their respective time period specialization. Every statement a question. I’d study German Studies (whatever that was) and get a minor in history.

But here I am, still wearing T-shirt dresses that definitely look like 2019 while writing about German works from the 1910s. Reading and writing a lot but not demanded to the same extent I had imagined. Wanting to pose every statement as a question but realizing academics are not actually satisfied with only questions and their job is to look for answers to complicated questions of their own composing. Minoring in Jewish Studies and chugging along at my own pace.

So what did this year look like?

first semester:

I loved teaching a section of third semester German.

I spent my mornings reading and working on my masters project.

I ran hundreds of miles with Buddy during his Indiana Exchange Program and completed two half marathons in Brown County.

I felt wholly less confused in my courses and maybe even threw around the term Hegelian. #becomingmyworstenemy

second semester:

I scrambled to help organize two graduate student conferences (one for Jewish Studies and one for German Studies) and present at both.

I enjoyed teaching two sections of first semester German.

I refused to leave my neighborhood for two weeks in January aside from classes and binged Netflix shows with my neighbors because the outside world was too dark and cold to face.

I defended my masters project and was officially granted my MA in German Studies in March.

I decided it was a good thing thing that I am not getting a PhD in history (see above).

I am once again feeling nostalgic, reflective, and blessed at the end of this school year.

I watched my avocado plants grow (the ones that I planted as pits my first year here), panicking when a couple of leaves starting to brown but cooing with joy when new, green leaves replaced them.

I loved being an aunt and living close to my niece and new nephew. My brother and sister-in-law were always there with open ears (and delicious food) when I wanted to talk, scheme, rant, or gush about things, people, and ideas. The close proximity of my sister-in-law's excellent baked goods and my brother's equally bad puns was a godsend.

Friends in Utah, California, Colorado, Florida, Illinois, and Finland all made efforts to stay close with me in an ever-expanding world that can be made smaller through technology.

I wasn't always my best self this year, which led to a dozen "Claire, for being so smart usually you sure can make dumb decisions" discussions with myself.

My grandma's Hoosier spirit still felt close to me, especially as I dove deeper into Mormon history and Mormon feminism, two of her favorite things.

No one from the German department threw me out despite the terrible puns I insisted on making at every possible occasion.

In October, a friend convinced me to impulsively buy cheap tickets to Vienna and I spent spring break in Vienna and Budapest reconnecting with an old roommate from BYU and deepening bonds with a couple of my Indiana sisters.

One of my closest friends from my mission got married and gave me an excuse to travel to Utah in April. WHY DO MOUNTAINS AND GOOD HUMANS MAKE ME CRY. (Protip: I discovered that if you squint at distant trees, sometimes they look like hills.)

This year was full of so much inner conflict and concerns about self-mastery.

It was also full of amazing surprises and giddy dances around my house and disbelief in the goodness of my own reality.

Year Two? Another assurance that good things keep coming.

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”


― Robert Browning