When I worked on my exams for high school,
my grandmother died —
And I thought that was hard.
When I prepared for my college entrance,
my teacher intoned, “Thy path to paradise begins in hell”.
And I thought that was hard.
When I started my first job,
running around, feeling like a clown,
thinking “this is damn hard.”
Then in another position I landed,
but still couldn’t finish work till one.
In a world that advertised freedom,
we were chained by assembly-line tedium,
our students manacled on their stairway to heaven.
Needless to say, I thought that was hard.
Then I commuted there to be a student,
and commuted back to be a teacher again.
Over a dinner, I asked a friend,
“When is this ever going to end?”
Then I had a baby, and understood
no mother ever quits motherhood.
A teacher, a student, and a mother,
A mother, a teacher, and a student,
A student, a mother, and a teacher,
Altogether.
Just as I was tempted to complain,
Yet again,
My PhD began.
