So you think you want to go to graduate school...

It may seem odd, but I get social media messages about how to apply for graduate school from people far more qualified by myself on a regular basis. Because I grew up in a city of 5,000 people in a rural part of Kentucky, the vast majority of these requests are about how I supposedly "self-taught" myself how to exist among a much more "cultured" class of people. 

It's true that I was not trained at an elite high school to go to an elite college and then an elite graduate program. Instead, I attended the county public high school. I did well enough to be voted "Most Likely to Succeed" in my class, but only because I was the nerdiest person of my gender in my grade. There was nothing innately successful about me. My parents have technical degrees, not four-year ones. The only grandfather I remember dropped out of middle school to support his large, working class family. And here I was, the enneagram Type 1, INTJ. I was a self-starter from the time I was a toddler, and I remember very fondly the time my guidance counselor sat me down to give me the "you're not going to stick around here" talk. My desire to make something of myself is as engrained in my identity as the accent I have always hidden to seem more cosmopolitan. (The accent still comes out when I'm tired, for the record.) 

"Getting out," as my high school friends and I referred to it, was hard. And it was not guaranteed, regardless of our parents' occupations, due to the nature of a rural community and its isolation from the urban, success-motivated world. So, if you made it out of your rural community to go to a four-year university further from your home than most, I applaud you. The odds were stacked against you and you made it this far. 

However, now that you're thinking about graduate school, there are some things that you should know. Some of these are things that I am glad my undergraduate and graduate  faculty were able to teach me, and others are things that I have learned the hard way as I've gone along. Here's a start: 

1. Other people knew professors growing up. Some of them even had PhDs as parents. This will be apparent in how much easier it is for them to speak the jargon, make the right choices, etc. They have been coached. You have not, and that does not make you a bad person or any less deserving of a place in graduate school. Make an effort to reach out to people with more experience speaking the jargon. Whether it is fair or not, your professionalism, for the rest of your career, will be critiqued both consciously and subconsciously by people fluent in this niche language. Have people who have been to graduate school in some shape or form look over your application-- statements of purpose are not like cover letters. Ideally, these advisors will be your professors from undergrad, but in certain fields or schools this is untenable. Current or former graduate students that you know will still be able to offer support regarding basic academic professionalism. This is not really taught to undergrads from classwork alone beyond the ability to send a good email. I emphasize not trying to go it alone because I think that this is an important relationship to cultivate. Like with most things, you can learn by trial and error. But, having a guide who is supportive and understanding of your background can help steer you away from unnecessary shame. You do not need to be embarrassed, and there is nothing wrong with having an accent, if you have one. Be proud of who you are and what you have come from. 
2. Just as you do not know much about what academia will be like before you get there, most of the people you encounter will likely not know a lot about you and your experiences. This sounds obvious, but can present itself in bizarre and continuously surprising ways. For example, in my small town (speaking from my own experience-- not every small town is the same), class mattered less. To my more urban classmates and faculty, class is something that is worn proudly because it is necessary to premeditate who you will expend the energy to socialize with, among other reasons. This has caused me to sound naive at some points in time and skeptical in others. If this happens to you, I urge you to keep going. Your voice deserves to be heard just as much as your more cosmopolitan companions. I was shocked at the ignorance perpetuated about the South and rural communities more generally when I moved to New York. Ignorance is not just for small towns, remember that. As you share, though, listen too. Learn as much as you can about these other points of view-- more people live in cities, after all. 
3. I came straight from undergrad to graduate school, but I have heard anecdotally that the transition from a rural upbringing to academia (including MD and JD programs) is easier from the work force-- the reasons for this are likely rooted in experience and exposure. I remember an interview I had for a summer job in college-- I spoke too informally. Not anything actually faux pas, but just using common vernacular for my Western Kentucky dialect. My interviewer looked aggrieved. I still got the job, but I learned then and there that you must change your level of formality based on the conversation, a learned habit which would have been considered awkward and standoffish in my small town. While I was certainly not subjected to the same norms that I am subjected to now in academia, experience negotiating cultural misunderstandings in the workplace is something I wish I had more practice with before beginning my PhD program-- I would have taken many of my earlier ignorances much less personally. 

I don't want to overburden my first blog post with too much information, but I think that this has been a good start. If you have more questions about the transition from rural life to academia, please leave me a comment and I'll try to either respond to you directly or address the topic in another post.