Graduate School

When I entered my Cultural Diversity and Understanding classroom at The University of Utah, College of Social Work, I had no idea that I was going to fall passionately in love with school, far more than I had ever fallen in love with anything.

My cohorts often discussed what they were going to do, and what their next step was. Often the topic of graduate (grad) school would come up, and I would shut down. I thought that my Bachelor of Social Work would be plenty, that my thirst for knowledge would diminish once I had my degree. It's not that I didn't think I was good enough, or that I didn't deserve to go to graduate school. I simply had minimal desire to go. 

I "graduated" in December of 2012, and having eight months of a break I began the process of contemplating grad school. After nine months of a break I began the process of asking, timidly, if people I looked up to within the Social Work profession, would be willing to write a recommendation for grad school. After I received a plethora of "yes", "of course", "it would be an honor", and "I was waiting for you to ask." I knew that I needed to apply. 

Now, after a month of completing a few lists, gathering items, and countless hours of writing I have submitted my application. It wouldn't have been possible without so many amazing people helping me attain the courage to actually start the thought process of graduate school. These people, who were so generous, are individuals I will never be able to repay in any way shape or form. That folks, is Social Work.

I uploaded the documents needed. I double, and triple checked the application. I typed in the numbers on my debit card. I hit submit. I typed my full time. I hit the "I agree/I understand" button. Then the "Thank you" page popped up on my screen. I had just sent in my application for graduate school. 

I sat, dumbfounded, had I just sent it? I really, really, just sent it. Then, I cried. I cried happy tears. I cried because I was doing something I once had never even known about. I cried because I was doing something I once never thought possible. I cried because I was doing something I once was told would never happen. I cried because I was finally proud of myself. I, Kasandra, am proud. I cannot tell you how great that feels. I am happy. 

xoxo,
Kas