You may call me Doctor Susan

And this time I mean it for real.

Yesterday I finally had my appointment at the graduate school to "deposit my dissertation" (they actually just take the abstract and title page for DMAs, not the whole project), thus making official what's been true for nearly an entire month: I am Dr. Susan G-------, DMA Collaborative Piano.

I left Daniel and Anya with my parents, who have been here visiting for a week, and drove to campus alone. Before the appointment, I had to stop at a drugstore to buy white-out; one of my forms my committee had to sign read "2007" as the graduation date, and I had to change it to "2008" because Anya's birth made me miss the deadline for graduating last year. Once that was done and I had double and triple checked that I had all the necessary paperwork, I began the long trek up Bascom Hill to turn it all in. It was momentous, walking up that long hill and into Bascom Hall, a rather majestic, cavernous building where all the graduate school administrative offices are housed. Less than ten minutes later, I left holding my bag and a fee card (someone explain to me why it costs 90 bucks to hand someone a few sheets of paper???). I stopped by the Music School to turn in a copy of one of the forms, went to the Bursar's office to pay that fee...and that was it.

For a few minutes yesterday I felt really proud of myself, very doctoral. I would have liked to celebrate a little, treat myself to a cup of coffee, browse a bookstore, enjoy myself for a few hours, but I had to get home and nurse my baby and find everyone some lunch and throw a load of diapers in the washing machine. This will be my life for the next year or two or three or, well, who knows how long.

When people ask me "So what's next?", I explain that I won't be on the job market right away, and the reasons I give are mostly economic in nature: we have two small children, daycare is extremely expensive, jobs in my field pay crap, Stuart is in a much more stable and lucrative career track than I am so it makes sense for him to be the breadwinner, you get the idea. But my deep dark secret (not so secret now, I suppose) is that I'm also afraid, not terrified but a little afraid, of rejection and failure, of not being good enough.

Piling on advanced degrees (I've got two masters and a doctorate to my name) has made me a better musician, but hasn't necessarily done much for my self-esteem in this field. It's kind of the opposite, actually, since I feel like the longer I study, the fewer excuses I have for not cutting the mustard. Don't get me wrong. I've had moments and performances I'm really proud of. But that doesn't change the fact that I will always second-guess myself and wonder if I'm good enough and wonder if maybe I should have done something else entirely, like some area of research science or teaching high school history.

(Mind you, all but the most egotistical and naive musicians experience crises of confidence all the time. The best musicians I've worked with have all said to me at one point, usually after a string of unsuccessful auditions or unsatisfying and low-paying gigs, "Why didn't I just get a degree in accounting?")

2007 was a big year for me. I had several performances out of town, I finished my doctoral work, I had a baby, and I was taking care of a toddler more or less full time. 2008 will be very, very different. Now that the DMA is done, I have to figure out how and when (or if) I will put it to use. In the meantime, 2008 will be a year of breastfeeding, washing diapers, sleep-deprivation, potty-training (I hope), and whatever else comes with parenting a couple of young children.

I'll try not to forget how to play the piano, and I'll try to keep the blog interesting...if you promise to keep reading.