You Have a Ph.D. in What?

Whenever I tell people that I have a PhD in German Studies, there is always a moment of silence. The listener must first deal with the cognitive dissonance that suddenly invades their head like the Germans marching through Paris. I'm not sure what throws them off, perhaps my bubbly personality--not. Maybe it's the fact that I look a little too young to actually have a Ph.D., at least, from an institution that doesn't exist only online. Maybe it's my wardrobe, which consists of jeans and long-sleeved tee-shirts, fleece pullovers, and scuffed-up clogs. Maybe it's the dreads that people have a problem with.

Or maybe it's the fact that I'm African-American. There just aren't that many black people interested in the Fatherland. I can't possibly imagine why.

People, once they realize they must be looking at me as though I have two heads and collect themselves, create a spiffy rejoinder: "Well, that's not something you hear every day," "Wow, isn't that...interesting," "Okaayyyy..."

The best one, I think, came from an African American woman I talked to at the MLA last year, who, when I told her I taught at a U.C. asked me if I knew a couple of different professors there. I told her I didn't, and she said, "Well, they're in African American Studies. You sure you don't know them?"

"I'm in the German and Russian Department."

"Really?"

"Yes, I have a PhD in German Studies."

"Oh...," she said, at a total loss for words. Then she regained her composure and said, "Well, you go girl!"

People have a hard enough time believing I have a Ph.D., which manifests itself in all manner of backhanded compliments, racist statements, and direct challenges of my qualifications--another blog entry for later. But when they discover that my PhD is in German Studies, the tectonic plates in the Marianas Trench of their minds shift severely, and the resulting tsunami almost always takes me out.

For example, I used to work for a non-profit organization as the Adult Education teacher, which meant I helped people who'd dropped out of school years before earn their GEDs. I also acted as a liaison between them and the faculty they worked with at a local community college while they were getting their certificates in Childhood Development. To a great degree, this meant preventing the women from cussing out the professors because they were pissed off. If I were in a job interview describing the experience, I'd say something like, " I functioned as an intermediary between the academic staff and my clients who, at times, because of minor breakdowns in communication, felt that they were not being clearly understood."

Ha!

The non-profit also started a job-preparedness program called STRIVE and had invited a number of city and state employees, from Social Services to EDD, to a kick-off event. My clients at the non-profit had always told me how much they hated their social workers, that they couldn't believe people like that were being invited to come to the building, invade their space and eat for free. I'd told them that the social workers couldn't possibly be that evil, and that maybe they would see a new side of them at this event.

Was I ever misguided.

During a dynamic presentation of the staff during the ceremony, our employment specialist introduced me, saying, "And we have the great privilege of having a Stanford PhD work as our adult educator, and we're incredibly proud to have her here!" All the city and state representatives turned towards me, and I sheepishly waved from where I was standing. Because the job required it, I did have on "business attire" that day, so I didn't look like I'd just come off the playground. But I was still young, a whole whopping 28, and I'm sure my blushing and turning my feet inwards like a six-year-old didn't help.

Later, when everyone was grazing and discussing how non-profits would one day take over the world, one of the social workers approached me and said, "So you have a PhD in German, huh? That's interesting."

"Yeah," I said, trying to avoid heavy discussion. "It's not very practical, though. Had I known then what I know now, I would've gotten a degree in Spanish or Russian."

"Or Ebonics," the social worker said, "since you speak that anyway."

Oddly enough, his name was Mr. Black.

People have a hard time grasping all of this at one fail swoop, but very few people ever ask if I had a hard time getting there. The answer to that would be yes.

But that's for another time, and another post.