There's a funny thing that happens when you learn a lot of valuable information in a short amount of time. You tend to forget that not everyone is having the same experience you are. I think this is even more pronounced in people who tend to be rather ambitious, like me. I know that in society in general, ambitious people are lauded, but there's a distinction between an ambitious person who has reached a level of success and an ambitious person who is just starting out. The successful person is seen as someone to look up to, and the new student to a discipline is seen as, well, a n00b.
We n00b's, by my definition, tend to be a bit crazy, you see. We geek out to anyone who shows even a tiny bit of interest in what we do. We find ourselves talking far too long about some nuance of our discipline without realizing it. In short, we are awkward and alienating. We're like someone who's just fallen in love, and we just can't help ourselves. However, we usually know we are a little different than others. I think I get it from my father. I once said Dad is a guy who doesn't have "hobbies" he has "obsessions," and, while I do have a few hobbies, I will say that voice science has become an obsession. I can only hope that my cohort of master's students won't mind, and perhaps they will even be the same.
I was like this with opera too, and really, I still am if given the chance. But the years have taught me that very few people can tolerate a singer geeking out about opera for too long before they politely excuse themselves. SLP is a little different, if only because if someone knows what it is, they usually either know someone who went to one, or they went to one themselves. Therefore, they seem to appreciate learning a little more about this profession, usually from the respect they feel toward that SLP who gave their parent a swallow evaluation at the hospital, treated their autistic child, or helped their grandparent after their stroke. For opera singers, though, we're just seen as a novelty, and people don't usually treat you with the same level of respect, perhaps because they've either never been to an opera or have never met an opera singer before. (Or worse yet, perhaps they have and that is why they don't respect them. Parish the thought!) This always ruffles my feathers, because I still strongly feel that, while the value in opera is subjective, it still has value nonetheless. And really, what kind of person are you if you don't at least respect someone for their craft even if you don't see the value in it? (But perhaps the issue lies in the general public not knowing about the craft itself and the training it requires...but I digress.)
What's interesting to me is that while I seem to have gained some respect and/or interest from random people I meet, I've lost a bit with (some) singers, particularly the ones who didn't know me before. Maybe it's that whole "abandoning" the musical profession thing, but I can certainly see that I've become an outsider. You know, someone who no longer understands the demands of the profession, or appreciates what the real professional singers go through. The biggest issue I have with this is I find myself wanting to abandon the singing world altogether. Why go into voice research? Why be interested in treating voice professionals when I get out? They're just going to treat me like I don't understand them anyway. I know this is really just an immature reaction from me generalizing a small portion of the singing population, but I find myself heartbroken all the same. Opera was my first love, profession-wise. I'll never really leave it. I may not train as hard as I used to when I was auditioning, mainly because I no longer have the time, but I still sing. I still remember the training from my master's program and beyond. I know I've gotten a bit rusty, but I can still run the race, even if I can't run it in the Olympics. (Course, I never got a great deal of respect from singers when I was in the profession either, but that's another story...one that I don't really need to write.)
All my new knowledge I've gained in voice science, and it's been significantly more than my pedagogy program, helped me a great deal. I was able to train smarter and more efficiently as a singer and I became a more efficient teacher. I noticed I was able to help my students with a vocal problem within weeks instead of months and months instead of years. I was a good teacher before, but I'm a better teacher now. But, I've gain new, more specific terminology that makes it harder to communicate with other voice teachers. I can see a rift forming in my mind just as it is forming in those singers who see me as an outsider.
That rift is the burden of knowledge. I know that sounds pompous, but it really isn't. On the contrary, it is a lonely place. It is the divide that comes when you forget exactly how much your target audience knows and how much they don't know. If you assume they know more than they do, you talk over their heads and seem like a pompous blow-hard who just wants to show them up intellectually. Assume they know less, and you seem condescending. As I integrate new knowledge, it solidifies, and I forget what it is I didn't know two years ago. Everything I've gained is just elementary stuff to the professors and licenced SLPs in my new field, and as such, I approach a lot of this as if it is elementary. However, some of this stuff is way beyond what some singers learn in pedagogy courses, so forgetting that makes the rift larger. And yet for others it is not all that far off; it really just depends on the school. So how does one begin to talk about it without falling into that rift? Maybe I'll never learn to find the balance. To talk in a way that doesn't alienate or deride and to be seen as a colleague to singers instead of a traitor and offender. And maybe I'll never stop being an outsider. I hope I find that balance someday, though, cause I would rather be of help to others (who wish for it) than to drift away in the rift.
New Voice, New Career
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
One journey ends, another begins
Well, what the heck have I been up to! It's been a really long time since I posted last, huh? Where did I disappear to? Answer: School. Last semester literally sucked up all the time I had. Long story short: I was taking all non-SLP related courses that left me a bit burnt out. Sorry I disappeared like that, though!
Sometimes, I hear from singers thinking about getting into SLP themselves. I usually tell them to prepare for a time-intensive, difficult journey, but I realized that the difficulty is one area of my journey I had kind of been avoiding on here. So, truth time. This post is all about that point from deciding to be an SLP to the point of beginning graduate school in it, which for me, will be this August.
My journey to being a speech pathologist hasn't been a smooth one. I'm actually just going to be starting my master's program this coming year. Which, if you've been counting, means I've been taking undergraduate courses for two years now just to get to the point where I could do the two-year master's program. I honestly did not expect it to take this long.
Rewind to fall of 2010. I decided to become an SLP. I applied to my local university, since they have a three-year program for non-SLP undergraduate majors. I didn't get in, and that kinda sucked. I mean, I had finally gotten that fire-in-the-belly feeling about my life direction, so not getting in felt like just another failure on top of all the music-world failures I had accumulated over the years. Ain't that how it goes, though? You feel like life is getting back "on track" after a set-back and, low and behold, there's another set-back waiting right around the corner. I didn't want to wait any longer! I wanted momentum in my life! I wanted direction...but I got rejection. Good times.
See, I knew I had at least one year of undergraduate courses I would need to complete before I could start a clinical program. That's just how it goes for folks who weren't SLP undergraduates, but the day after the rejection letter came, the school told me their "leveling" program (as it's called) was full already. Luckily, they also informed me there was another leveling program at a state school in *big city* nearby. I applied to the state school's program right away, and I was registered for fall classes by the end of the week. Whew! Momentum was back, and I was on my way! *happy dance*
During that fall semester, I applied to about six graduate schools across the nation. My then-fiance and I tried to line up our schools, since he was going to graduate school in a STEM field. We played the waiting game, and it turned out that I got into one program out of the six. (Turns out, SLP is kinda hot right now just cause there are still jobs in that field, so schools are getting waaaaayy more applicants than it used to, but slots are still quite limited. Therefore, getting into grad school has become quite the challenge to many of us levelers out there.) However, our problem was that the program wasn't in a city where he got admitted. In addition to that, the cost of that particular program was ridiculous! About two-thirds more than most SLP programs, and the city where it was located is one of the most expensive to live in. Meanwhile, my SO got admitted with full funding and a stipend to a top-ten program in his field, which also happened to be in a town with a low cost of living. So, I turned down the one crazy-expensive program and we headed out to where he was going to school.
I took a gamble on new plan: Take some science and math courses, which I would need eventually for my licence anyway, and apply to the two programs in our new state. I reviewed math, with the help of my now-husband, and passed my way into Calculus I, and I also took a psychology course that fall I would need later. This past spring semester, I took Calculus II, Introduction to Mechanics (which what calculus-based Physics I is called here), and another psychology course online. Do SLPs need calculus and calc-based physics? No. But I took them because during my leveling program, I starting thinking I would actually continue to get my PhD after my master's degree, and strong math/physics knowledge would help in one of my research interests immensely. (I'm kinda an over-achiever like that. And besides, I also figured taking some classes beyond what most SLP undergrads take would set me apart, so I figured it was a win-win...as long as I got good grades.)
And luckily, my gamble paid off! I got into both schools! Yay! *Big happy dance* So now, here I sit. Waiting to actually begin my journey of becoming an SLP. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true, since I've spent two years studying to get here, but I sorta feels true. It's been a much longer journey just to begin the privilege of clinical training than I ever thought it would be. If this journey was shown in some movie-montage, it would be probably be a very boring montage; mostly consisting of me sitting and studying at a coffee shop, at home, and at school. (Huh...I guess there's a good reason Hollywood has stayed away from the study-themed montage.) If I had known it would take this long would I have done it? I'm honestly not sure, but now that I've learned what I've learned so far, I'm glad I did it. If I have one talent and passion for any one thing it's learning. (I. am. a. geek.)
I'm sitting here with aspirations of greatness...not too unlike my 18-year-old singer-self back in undergraduate days. The only difference is, my 18-year-old self was doing her best not to be crippled by the fear of failure, but my thirty-something self has no such fear. Not because failure couldn't happen, I know enough of probability to never say never, but because experience as taught me that failure really isn't something to fear. I know, I know, could I be more cliche? Here's the distinction I really want to draw for you, though: Not fearing failure isn't the same as inviting failure. I'd be quite content if failure never showed up ever again and I'm going to plan my ass off and work my ass off to keep it at bay. But by not fearing it, I can look at any challenge square in the face and say, "Bring it. Cause I'm all in." Cliche? Yes. Freeing? Absolutely!
Sometimes, I hear from singers thinking about getting into SLP themselves. I usually tell them to prepare for a time-intensive, difficult journey, but I realized that the difficulty is one area of my journey I had kind of been avoiding on here. So, truth time. This post is all about that point from deciding to be an SLP to the point of beginning graduate school in it, which for me, will be this August.
My journey to being a speech pathologist hasn't been a smooth one. I'm actually just going to be starting my master's program this coming year. Which, if you've been counting, means I've been taking undergraduate courses for two years now just to get to the point where I could do the two-year master's program. I honestly did not expect it to take this long.
Rewind to fall of 2010. I decided to become an SLP. I applied to my local university, since they have a three-year program for non-SLP undergraduate majors. I didn't get in, and that kinda sucked. I mean, I had finally gotten that fire-in-the-belly feeling about my life direction, so not getting in felt like just another failure on top of all the music-world failures I had accumulated over the years. Ain't that how it goes, though? You feel like life is getting back "on track" after a set-back and, low and behold, there's another set-back waiting right around the corner. I didn't want to wait any longer! I wanted momentum in my life! I wanted direction...but I got rejection. Good times.
See, I knew I had at least one year of undergraduate courses I would need to complete before I could start a clinical program. That's just how it goes for folks who weren't SLP undergraduates, but the day after the rejection letter came, the school told me their "leveling" program (as it's called) was full already. Luckily, they also informed me there was another leveling program at a state school in *big city* nearby. I applied to the state school's program right away, and I was registered for fall classes by the end of the week. Whew! Momentum was back, and I was on my way! *happy dance*
During that fall semester, I applied to about six graduate schools across the nation. My then-fiance and I tried to line up our schools, since he was going to graduate school in a STEM field. We played the waiting game, and it turned out that I got into one program out of the six. (Turns out, SLP is kinda hot right now just cause there are still jobs in that field, so schools are getting waaaaayy more applicants than it used to, but slots are still quite limited. Therefore, getting into grad school has become quite the challenge to many of us levelers out there.) However, our problem was that the program wasn't in a city where he got admitted. In addition to that, the cost of that particular program was ridiculous! About two-thirds more than most SLP programs, and the city where it was located is one of the most expensive to live in. Meanwhile, my SO got admitted with full funding and a stipend to a top-ten program in his field, which also happened to be in a town with a low cost of living. So, I turned down the one crazy-expensive program and we headed out to where he was going to school.
I took a gamble on new plan: Take some science and math courses, which I would need eventually for my licence anyway, and apply to the two programs in our new state. I reviewed math, with the help of my now-husband, and passed my way into Calculus I, and I also took a psychology course that fall I would need later. This past spring semester, I took Calculus II, Introduction to Mechanics (which what calculus-based Physics I is called here), and another psychology course online. Do SLPs need calculus and calc-based physics? No. But I took them because during my leveling program, I starting thinking I would actually continue to get my PhD after my master's degree, and strong math/physics knowledge would help in one of my research interests immensely. (I'm kinda an over-achiever like that. And besides, I also figured taking some classes beyond what most SLP undergrads take would set me apart, so I figured it was a win-win...as long as I got good grades.)
And luckily, my gamble paid off! I got into both schools! Yay! *Big happy dance* So now, here I sit. Waiting to actually begin my journey of becoming an SLP. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true, since I've spent two years studying to get here, but I sorta feels true. It's been a much longer journey just to begin the privilege of clinical training than I ever thought it would be. If this journey was shown in some movie-montage, it would be probably be a very boring montage; mostly consisting of me sitting and studying at a coffee shop, at home, and at school. (Huh...I guess there's a good reason Hollywood has stayed away from the study-themed montage.) If I had known it would take this long would I have done it? I'm honestly not sure, but now that I've learned what I've learned so far, I'm glad I did it. If I have one talent and passion for any one thing it's learning. (I. am. a. geek.)
I'm sitting here with aspirations of greatness...not too unlike my 18-year-old singer-self back in undergraduate days. The only difference is, my 18-year-old self was doing her best not to be crippled by the fear of failure, but my thirty-something self has no such fear. Not because failure couldn't happen, I know enough of probability to never say never, but because experience as taught me that failure really isn't something to fear. I know, I know, could I be more cliche? Here's the distinction I really want to draw for you, though: Not fearing failure isn't the same as inviting failure. I'd be quite content if failure never showed up ever again and I'm going to plan my ass off and work my ass off to keep it at bay. But by not fearing it, I can look at any challenge square in the face and say, "Bring it. Cause I'm all in." Cliche? Yes. Freeing? Absolutely!
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