This isn’t about running*. This is about my education and career path.

I’m leaving my doctorate program.

I won’t complete the proposal process and the rest of the dissertation. I won’t walk another stage at graduation and get hooded. I won’t earn a doctorate in education. And no one will be calling me Dr. Mosqueda for the novelty of it before I tell them to stop because it sounds ridiculous.

This wasn’t an easy decision. I’ve been thinking it over for the past five months. I cried a few times and stayed up too late considering the pros and cons. I’ve done both simultaneously.

• Pro: I can go out and find a full-time job and get started on that career thing.
• Con: The job market sucks right now and higher education is definitely not recession proof.
• Pro: I already have a good chunk of the proposal written. I just need to write an introduction and flush out chapters 2 and 3, literature review and methodology/theoretical framework, respectively.
• Con: Once I propose and advance to candidacy, I still have to recruit students, interview participants, transcribe interviews, analyze the data, and write up my findings. I like interviews and analysis, but I hate transcribing. Paying someone to do it is not cheap.

And so on.

My decision didn’t come down to a rational and orderly list. I went with my gut (funny how that makes itself known when running too) and decided that leaving was my best option.

The PhD will be a DNF.

***

I cried as I composed the email to my advisor, La Jefa, letting her know my decision. Email was my only option as I couldn’t schedule a meeting with her at the time. La Jefa is a busy woman. Maybe it’s best, because I would’ve come out of her office with puffy eyes and a red nose.

La Jefa has been supportive and encouraging as I floundered in the past few years. Although she knew I wasn’t interested in a research career, she offered me a job on her research team. That was a huge plus as the position included fee remission and grad student health insurance.

She saw some potential in me when she took me on as a student eight years ago. I didn’t live up to that potential. I hate that.

***

I don’t regret sticking around for so long. If I would have left when I first considered it in 2006, I would have never had the chance to make some great friends, serve in student leadership positions on campus, travel across the state advocating for better access and affordability with the UC Student Association, and do some important research with talented scholars. I also would have had a much a shorter stint at [Program]. Since I’ve been there six years, it’s been enough time to see a few cohorts go through the program, excel in their science courses, try research, and become young scientists. Basically, I wouldn’t have seen firsthand that [Program] really works.

If I would have left in 2009, the second time I considered it due to financial issues, I would have never had the chance to be part of a great research team. I got to present at conferences in Chicago and Toronto, went to Michigan a few times to hold focus groups, and learned a lot more about conducting a qualitative research study. I even got a publication in a top journal out of it (co-authored, of course). If I ever do want to finish my dissertation, I know my experience on this research team will be quite useful.

***

It’s commencement weekend. I saw photos on FB of friends getting hooded, waiting in line for the procession to begin, and celebrating their accomplishments with friends, family and their kids (in some cases). While I’m very happy for them, I felt a bit sad and envious. I should have been there. June 2012 was my degree expected term.

Even in the tough times, I thought I’d finish de panzazo (just barely, or doing the minimum to pass). I imagined myself writing that phrase in my dissertation acknowledgements or dedication. I’d get the degree, but I wouldn’t be a budding rockstar in the education research world like some of my friends. That wouldn’t matter to my family. They would still come out in full force like they did for my BA graduation. They’d be proud, even though I finished dead last.

There will be other opportunities to make them proud. I hope.

*I considering drawing out the obvious parallels between distance running and pursuing a doctorate, but I’m not up for metaphors and similes. While I’ve faltered in graduate school, I’ve managed to go from zero exercise to eking out a sub-4 marathon. Personally, the metaphor won’t work. I’m proud of my running accomplishments. Academics? Not so much.

This happened ten years ago. Exactly. Well, some of the photos are from Sunday June 17th, but you get to the point.

I didn’t write much about my thoughts on being the first in my family to graduate, being one of the very few Chicanas with a BA, etc. At that time I wasn’t so keyed in to the issues first generation and underrepresented minority students face in higher education.

Instead, I wrote more about Mexico’s performance in the World Cup and anxieties about starting a new job. I wrote a couple of recaps of the graduation ceremonies. They jogged my memory a bit and it’s fun to see how things have and have not changed.

From June 18, 2002, any updates are bracketed:

The apartment is full of flowers thanks to graduations. [My roommate Vane graduated too. She then moved back to the Bay Area.]

Mom has to exit the Durango through the passenger side, because when Dad crashed into a pole on Saturday at UCLA the dent made it impossible to open the driver’s side door more than a few inches. [I totally forgot this happened.]

I didn’t cry when I said my 1 minute impromptu speech at the Chávez Center [Chicana/o Studies] graduation. I was the exception among all the chillonas y chillones [crybabies]. [I was really proud about this. Papá Chepe gave me a 10 for my short speech because I didn’t cry.]

Isa and I agreed that we were annoyed with all the people thanking significant others at the graduation. [Our SOs were out of town/the country.]

I got some nice gifts and money. Lori did too. Tía Luisa has great taste. [My sister graduated from high school a few days before. We had a joint graduation party.]

Mando bought me a heart shaped balloon and flowers for graduation. If I didn’t know any better I’d wonder. [I wonder what happened to Mando. Off to FB.]

Valerie drew me in my cap and gown. She rocks. [I still have kindergarten Valerie’s art on my wall, but it’s faded.]

Hopefully this weekend’s graduates remember more about their commencement weekend than I did. Congratulations, class of 2012.

I spent a good chunk of my day on Saturday talking to potential freshmen at a fair for newly admitted students. When I spoke to the incoming science students about applying for [Program], I always highlighted the impact on grades, retention in the sciences and participation rates in undergraduate research programs. The students would nod, probably overwhelmed with all the information and opportunities they’d learned about. The students perked up when I introduced them to current students and alumni helping us outreach. “How did [Program] benefit you?” I asked one of the volunteers.

All 10 students who volunteered throughout the day answered the same. It wasn’t grades and research was secondary even though they’re all in labs and some are going on to grad school in the fall. Nope, they all stressed the great friendships they developed with other [Program] students.

I love working with [Program], but at this point I don’t expect many surprises. Each year we do the same thing, it’s just a different set of students. I was wrong. I know our students develop friendships in the program. That makes sense since they spend several hours a week together and have a lot in common. We measure a lot of things and evaluate all aspects of the programs, but I don’t recall ever asking about friendships developed through [Program]. The researcher in me wants to study this and interview our students. The student affairs practitioner in me feels like we’re doing something right.