“You’re Not Cut Out for Nursing School” Part 2

Here’s what I did after that:

I went to speak with the associate dean (this was like 2 days after the letter, before I had rebuilt my reserve and confidence). She was very supportive, and this is the benefit of having a conscious person of color in administration; They take up the battle for you, and you get to go back to concentrating on yourself. You don’t have to explain all the psychological damage, they already get it…they’ve been through it. You don’t have to convince them that you aren’t crazy – which helps because when something like this happens you really do feel like you’re losing it, and if you’re the kind of person who takes your life seriously (and thinks about it critically) you start to think you might be crazy and you’d have a hard time convincing someone else that you aren’t! She met with me and then met with him to discuss the situation on my behalf…and then encouraged me to meet with him myself later. She also made it concretely clear that I wasn’t leaving the program. But, honestly, I didn’t believe her.

Then, I gathered up all my friends, mostly students of color who I’ve built a very solid community with, and a few others, and explained what was going on. (The associate dean was very concerned about the whole “everyone one is struggling alone” thing) Another student in this little community had also had the same experience, and so there was comfort in that. And basically, they rallied around us and gave an immeasurable amount of support. I can hardly explain it, but it was the difference between trying to push against a closed door by yourself, versus having 5 other people pushing against it with you, if that makes sense. So we discussed a few strategies, made the commitment to check in on each other over the Thanksgiving holiday, and to come back with more ideas on how we could help the two of us get the scores we needed to pass the class and stay in the program. For one of the very first times in my life, here was a group of young black people who really felt like if one of us failed, we all failed, and failure was not an option. Not to be mushy, but I think this is what love looks like when it is separated from romance.

So, I went on break and I spent an enormous amount of time confronting my issues (because no one can make you feel inferior without your consent), rebuilding my confidence (because it was gone), and reassessing and recommitting to my purpose (because it’s the only way to survive this experience, I think). This involved journaling, reading my writing, including my admissions essays, and goal updating/refining. It was hard work, and, honestly, it left me exhausted, which is one of the reasons why I hope I don’t have to do it again soon.

Then I came back to school (somewhat renewed, but still a little worried, obviously) and, as promised, my friends’ suggestions started pouring in. I received a total of 36 emails in a weeks time, all concerning Biomed. I studied with different people, I was quizzed by different people, and I took the advice of every person seriously. Then I met with the professor and analyzed my last two tests. I told him my concerns and cornered him about the material a million times (Like: “Why is this the answer instead of this, when these two things are exactly the same?” or “You said to study these objectives, but the answers to the practice questions you posted do not come from these objectives, where do they come from?”) Then I took the test…early…in a room by myself, and I asked him questions during the exam, which I had never done before (thanks for that advice, K) and found that it is absolutely necessary to do so in order to get the grade you deserve. I think this is very, very problematic, but that’s for another post, another day. What matters in this moment, for this post, is this:

I needed a 77, but I got a 90.

Don’t put me in a box, don’t underestimate me, and don’t think you know me. I am serious about this thing I’m doing, and I don’t intend to change my goals based on your limited knowledge of who you think I am or what you think I can achieve. And what’s even better, my friends refuse to look up one day only to realize that one of us didn’t make it – and I am learning that of all the things that went right with this experience, that one has had the greatest impact.