We've all been there.
And maybe you're even there now at this point in the semester.
Does this sound familiar? The end of another semester is done and all you can focus on is what you DIDN'T get done this semester so you vow to spend the rest of 2023 working as hard as you can to get as much done as possible to make up for it.
When we find ourselves at this point, the things that usually get pushed to the back burner are ourselves and our community.
One year at a conference, I attended a grad student social. I thought it would be a chance to meet grad students who were studying similar topics and eat some free food. About 20 students showed up at a bar close to the conference.
We milled around for a bit and at one point we all sat down and started chatting. Someone said we should go around and introduce ourselves, which university we were attending, and our hobbies.
And you know what? This innocent icebreaker actually turned into a discussion as to why grad students don't/can't have hobbies.
The only person who mentioned a hobby other than myself was a parent who said that when he had kids he made the conscious choice to know that having kids would be his hobby until they were out of the house.
I mentioned a few of my hobbies -- playing hockey, being in an improv group, hiking -- and others were very curious where I found the time and energy to have hobbies.
My short answer was that it made me a better grad student to have hobbies.
My long answer?
At the time, I was researching mental health and learning and knew from what I was reading that mental health = social health.
Indigenous ways of knowing have emphasized the importance of community and social connections for thousands of years.
Take a look at two of the First Peoples Principles of Learning that tell us how important community is to learning:
Learning ultimately supports the well-being of the self, the family, the community, the land, the spirits, and the ancestors.
Learning is holistic, reflexive, reflective, experiential, and relational (focused on connectedness, on reciprocal relationships, and a sense of place).
As much as academia wants to tell us that scholarship is a solitary act (hello inflated worth piled on the value of sole author publications!), I experience learning as a social process.
My dissertation research used Keyes' (2003) mental health model, which says mental health comprises emotional, psychological, and social well-being. There are many Western models that do emphasize the role of social connection, however many Western models overemphasize the individual aspects of mental health.
In my experience, grad students who ignore their social lives for long periods of time are more isolated, may struggle to complete their work, will be less motivated, have trouble asking for help, and most importantly, don't know how to connect with others regularly because they can be out of practice.
If this sounds like you, ask yourself the following questions to figure out next steps:
Why you think grad school has to be done in isolation?
How do you want to remember your time in grad school?
What would need to change for you to have more time with friends and family?
How can you create time to connect with others?
What barriers are in the way of time with friends and family?
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