Year 1 of my PhD, in Gifs

My blog game has been weak this year. Between leaving one job and starting school, and writing hundreds of pages in assignments, work on anything other than coursework was a daunting task. Still, the story of my year deserves to be shared.

Last August I started my PhD journey. I felt good. I felt prepared. I felt ready.

But my pretentious bubble was soon popped, and three weeks into the first semester I realized I wasn’t actually as ready as I had promised myself.

By my third month, I had written two unsent letters to my advisor, swearing she made a mistake by admitting me into the program.


I compared myself to everyone around me, and highlighted all the ways in which I wasn’t good enough. The intimidation factor was no joke. Many of the people in my classes and program were true superstars, brilliant and incredibly talented.

Up to that point, I thought I had a pretty good head on my shoulders. I thought I could take the challenge, the feedback, and the constant trial and error. I thought I knew it all.

I was concerned with everyone around me. The comparison trap was real.

Then my body started to give up on me.

I cried many times that first semester. I was unstable.

And then I learned that I didn’t know it all.

…and how to be quiet, sit still, and just listen – this came from teachers and classmates. Friends and colleagues paused me, told me to know how and when I take up space, and to just be still (quiet!). Those friends pushed me to be a better listener, which in turn made me a better student – specifically a better PhD student.

But this learning took time. And still, there were days when I struggled.

…and days when I really struggled.

But I owned that struggle, and used it to propel me into more confident days.

And then my angel of an advisor gave me really good feedback on a final paper, feedback that helped me realize how to be a better student and writer.

She validated and affirmed, and left me thankful that I never sent those letters of resignation.

And so, I leaned fully into winter break, and cleared my brain and heart for the next semester. I vowed to read and write differently, to study harder, and to be more committed in ways I just wasn’t during the fall semester. I fully embraced my identity as a full-time PhD student, and found pride in the things I could do and learn.

And I started to address the demons inside me that were telling me I wasn’t worthy.

And I sent them away. I demanded them away.

And I started making small changes that went a long way.

Stuff started to make sense. I was remembering things from my masters program. I was remembering and applying learning from the fall to the spring. By February, I finally felt confident (a tad, at least) for the first time during this entire year.

And I had made some really good friends, people who were in the same boat as me.

We collaborated on projects, pushed each other, and took risks to receive rewards. We started the process of becoming experts on our research topics. We shined.

And we built a tradition of cheering for each other, through the good and the bad.

As May neared, and final projects took over, I found myself excited, not scared like I had been in the fall. I knew I could do it. I finally believed in myself.

And before I knew it, all my papers were turned in, and I had successfully completed one year of PhD work. I did it. Despite the long road, I did it.

All is well…

…until classes resume in August, of course.

*gifs all found on GIPHY

Conversion Therapy Must End


“Michael, it’s [Chris], can you talk?”

“Yeah, of course, hold on a minute, what time is it,” I asked over the phone.

It was just after 1:00AM.

“What’s going on, are you crying? Are you ok?”

“Yes. No. Yes, I’m crying, no I’m not ok,” my friend whispered back. “I just woke up to my parents and a man from my church standing in my room.”

“Wait, what? What did you do?”

“I just laid there. They were begging for Jesus to heal me, to forgive me, to cure me. They were praying for me. My mom was crying-”

“-Oh, gosh, [Chris], I’m so sorry. That is not ok, not ok” I tried to reassure him.

“I gotta go, I think they’re still awake.” And with that, Chris hung up the phone.

I remember this conversation like it happened yesterday. I was 23 years old, and had just moved back to Oklahoma from Los Angeles. I was only out to a few people, and at that point, even some of my best friends didn’t know that I was gay. But Chris knew.

Around the time I started my coming out journey, I had a very good friend connect me with Chris, a new friend from Arkansas, who was experiencing a similar struggle as me. Chris came from a Catholic family, and we both viewed “telling our parents” as the scariest part of the entire coming out process. We had endured childhood and teenage bullying, but learned how to navigate the system. We figured out how to “pass” as straight, or at least undetectable, and checked in from time to time to make sure the other was doing well. The situation I reference above, when Chris called me in the middle of the night, was not uncommon. Chris had it harder than me. He was still around family, through college and beyond, while I had an opportunity to live somewhat independent from some of the bigger fears involved in my struggle.

Chris is now very proudly out as gay, but this was almost not the case. If it weren’t for people in his life who assured, validated, and made space for him to be his true self, Chris might have either existed in the closet (as many men do), or worse.

Worse was almost an option.

Chris’ parents gave him the option of “going to camp.” They didn’t force or demand, but they did strongly recommend. They plead. But of all the things Chris knew to be true in life, it was that he was gay. And that no camp or prayer would change that.

Much like Chris, the ongoing nature of my coming out journey was not fully positive, and even today I am still nursing the scars that were initially deep wounds created as a result of my being gay. But I never went to conversion therapy. I was never prayed over in the middle of the night. I was never beaten or physically assaulted into admitting I could or would change. And while people did attempt to “pray away the gay,”I resisted. Unfortunately, some are still trying.

If you happened to catch 20/20 this week, you will know where this post is going…

“For every camp like this, there are a hundred more that nobody knows about.”

While the progressive part of my brain wants to argue this statistic, the practical part of my experience tells me this might certainly be the case.

Conversion therapy must end.

“Praying away the gay” must end.

Physical and sexual assault as a means of conversion must end.

If you know someone who is currently feeling or physically trapped or stuck in a situation where they are not able to be their true self, please make space for them. Please validate, love, and uplift them. If you cannot make the space, or are at capacity in other ways, please invite others to assist. Remind people that they are loved, and that they are and can be who they are meant to be – their true and authentic self.

To those who might be that person I am referencing…feeling or physically trapped or stuck in a situation like conversion therapy, an abusive family, or more… Please, if you do anything today, let it be holding on. Please know that conversion therapy is not ok. Any emotional, physical, mental, and sexual abuse is not ok. And whoever sent you there or did (are doing) this to you did it without considering you. You matter. You absolutely matter.

But I imagine you are confused, frustrated, hurting.

If you are still called to Christianity, know that there are accepting churches and Christians out there. The version of Christianity or Christians that you are seeing is just one sliver of what that faith might represent. There is a bigger picture of love out there. Love really is out there. If your biological parents won’t accept you, I promise there is a chosen family out there ready and eager to accept, embrace, and adore you. I am ready and eager to accept, embrace, and adore you.

You are acceptable, embraceable, and worthy of adoration.

You are loved.

You are loved.

You are who you are meant to be.

And that person is loved.

I cannot possibly imagine what you are going through, even as my plea comes from a place built on assumptions. But please, if you do anything today, let it be holding on.

Please hold on.

For resources, references, or help making meaning, please see the following:

The Lies and Dangers of Efforts to Change Sexual Orientation or Gender Identity, via the Human Rights Campaign (HRC)

#BornPerfect: The Campaign to End Conversion Therapy

Trevor Project.png

I wish I could wrap all those struggling in a cocoon of love and support. If not physically present for you, I am here emotionally and spiritually. You are not alone.

Here, always here,


IMG_3911*Photo outside of Luther Place Memorial Church in Washington, D.C.
*The name, “Chris,” is a pseudonym to protect the identity of my friend.

“International Investigations in Cuban Education”

When I started my PhD last fall, I never imagined I would spend nine days in Cuba with two-dozen graduate students, conducting research, and meeting with colleagues and schools in the Cuban education system. As I continue to think critically about education in the US, I have to be aware of how education exists in other cultures and contexts. And this is what lead me to apply for the opportunity to study abroad.

If we truly care about education, the status of students (of all types), the future of our systems, and how globalization shows up in classrooms and schools, we have to consider our individual and personal contributions to advancing knowledge within the field. And so, “International Investigations in Cuban Education,” commenced.

And as I entered that space of learning and seeking knowledge, I quickly realized I didn’t know all that much about Cuba.

“Elián González. Old cars. Guantanamo Bay. Fidel Castro.”

When asked about my knowledge of Cuba before this trip, these points represented my low level of understanding. Furthermore, before this trip, I knew virtually nothing about Cuba’s education system. I grew up with peripheral perspectives, but never developed my own, formal and concrete version of what I knew Cuba to be versus what I had heard from others.

As a result of this opportunity, my colleagues and I were granted the privilege of great access to Cuban schools and educators. We spent a substantial amount of time before the trip reading and reflecting on the history of Cuba, the dark connections to the United States, and the reality of a free-to-all education system that exits from preschool to graduate higher education. Although brief, we got a small glimpse into a system of schooling that was unknown to most everyone on the trip.

“But what did you do,” you might be wondering? To synthesize some highlights, and connect to my desire to keep pursuing context and knowledge, the following thoughts and photos best capture my time on the island.


School Visits
While we had opportunities to tour, our primary responsibility was to conduct independent research on various components of Cuban education. Curious about campus environments and institution types, my study looked at the differences between one primary school and one university in Holguín Province. Over the course of three days, I had the opportunity to visit each school, and found incredible similarities between the two. Art and colorful paintings were found throughout each school, and adorned classroom walls and outdoor spaces. Gathering areas transcended from inside to outside, and historical figures were well-represented across both environments. There was no shortage of historical understanding or national pride. Natural air flowed through classrooms, breezeways, and open areas, and the warm climate felt less severe as a result of this design. We also got to experience break time, which we might identify as, “recess,” in the US. I don’t think I stopped smiling during that 40-minute break. Kids of all ages were running, dancing, singing, laughing, and engaging with their teachers and friends. This outside and common space that was so still just moments before the bell rang had become a concrete playground of joy and engagement.

Meetings with Educators
In addition to visiting schools, my colleagues and I had the opportunity to meet with scholars, researchers, and teachers from various Cuban institutions and pedagogies. We had long discussions about the differences in our schooling, and always connected back to the reality that a student-centered framework can  make a huge difference in the way we approach education. “Didactics” existed as a continued theme in our conversations, and the educators shared the ways in which this philosophy showed up as an art form rather than a style of teaching. The spirit and passion for teaching and learning was a big part of their approach. The biggest highlight from these sessions came from one of our final conversations, when the educators asked each of us US representatives to share more about our personal research agenda. This was the first time on the trip that I was asked to explain my interest in parent/family programs in education. With the reliance on a translator to articulate my idea, I had to be very intentional and succinct with how I explained my interest in investigating the exclusionary nature of these types of campus traditions. As I explained that we have many students who show up in education spaces without parents and families, I instantly felt a response that this, too, appears in Cuban spaces as well. My colleague who was translating looked at me and said, “They really appreciate your topic.” This was a validating moment, as I had just spent the past semester trying to better understand how to explain my topic, and questioned how to move toward a more thoughtful research strategy.

Donald Trump and Betsy DeVos
I hate to let Donald Trump rain on my Cuba parade, but alas, he has. And DeVos, too. If you follow me on any form of social media, you know that I have an incredibly strong opinion of DeVos and her dangerous and inexperienced approach to schooling in the US. And as much as I wanted to leave Trump and DeVos back in the US, while I was in Cuba, they continued to be a topic of conversation again and again. Outside of questions and general assumptions, Cuban scholars were well-aware of our current reality in education. They were aware of our shared questions and concerns. They were away of every tweet, and the impact future decisions can have on our country, and the countries around us. But there is power in sharing ideas and perspectives. We were in Cuba on an education exchange, but I would be remised if I did not admit that this exchange was very one-sided. You see, there weren’t (aren’t) 30 Cuban educators headed to the United States to engage in the same critical discussions as we were having. One US colleague stated in his closing speech, “The Trump administration can’t stop the momentum we have here,” and I am letting that idea guide much of my thinking as I continue to seek information, unearth new knowledge, and teach and educate those around me.

I also must acknowledge that Cuba is not perfect. And while we had a close glimpse at some of the educational entities in Cuba, we had limited time to understand and unpack the economic and social struggles that exist outside of the education system (and even some that exist inside the education system). We are not perfect either.

There can be an unsettling feeling when critically analyzing our education system in the US, especially when considering the complex nature of k-12, higher education, and all that exists between (even when simply starting with public and private differences). In Cuba, we heard, “Education is a human right,” again and again, and much of that was backed up by the literacy campaigns that existed following the revolution. With more time, I might be able to spot the inconsistencies in that mantra, though in the meantime, I feel as if in the US, we are moving away from that belief.

Do we really value education as a human right?

Are children really valued citizens, and how serious do we take their learning?

Do we take their learning serious?

Before applying to this program, I never would have imagined an opportunity like this, meeting university and education association presidents, school principals, and top scholars in Cuban education. The opportunity to engage and reflect is part of what made my time in Cuba that much more special. And the opportunity to see past what I always understood as Cuba has helped me better understand how I show up in spaces where gaps exist on others’ path to understanding.

In closing, one US colleague challenged each participant to make a commitment to “what comes next” after Cuba. If we want exchanges and experiences to be truly transformative and informational, we have to commit to life-long learning and growing, and to a reframe the idea that perfection exists without considering culture, history, and social context. Even as we ventured away from the country, we heard counter-narratives contradicting all that we had learned and began to understand. The shift became present. The balance became important.

We learned. And we are beginning and continuing to understand. As I reflect on this reality, I am thankful that the process, in this case, has become the product.

I commit,


Committing to Thrive in 2017

This post initially started out as an apology letter to all those who experienced a flaky or unavailable Michael last fall. I have been a tad unresponsive since August, and the beginning of this past winter allowed for time to process and grieve the reality that being a student again has been quite a challenge. 2016 was quite a challenge.

2016 started with, “will I get into graduate school,” anxiety, and finished with, “am I good enough to be in graduate school,” anxiety. In between those insecure moments existed finishing and starting jobs old and new, and a giant relationship advancement of moving in with my partner – who, just before January 31st, asked me, “Is the New Year hard for you?”

Easily, my answer was, “Yes.”

I struggle with change.

I always have, and probably always will.

Ever since I was a child, change was hard for me: when school ended each year, holidays, friends moving all around me (military kid), and various family circumstances over the years. While I am just now reaffirming this into existence, it is an important part of my story. In 2016, it has been a prominent and overwhelming part of my story.


Outside of the celebrity and icon deaths, electoral college results, and slew of social injustices to serve as a benchmark, 2016 contained more change in twelve months than I had experienced in many years. As a result, I was more critical of myself than ever before. I even changed my twitter bio at the beginning of the semester to read as follows:


“PhD student battling impostor syndrome.”

Even while keeping up in a tough graduate program, “You are good enough,” lingered out of reach, and the stories I consistently told myself this past fall were mostly self-deprecating, dismissive, and unnecessarily limiting.

As a new semester has officially commenced, amidst embracing my status as a student, I am also reminding myself of a few key values:

I am so much better than what I told myself last year.
I am worthy of so much more than I gave myself last year.
I am capable of more than I endured last year.

The initial stories I told myself last year weren’t true. They were limited. They limited me. They were harsh and unfair. The stories I will tell in 2017 have to be authentic. They have to be filled with self-validation and courageous movement. The stories I tell myself in 2017 have to be ones where I am conscious of myself and my capacity.

The stories I live in 2017 must be ones where I am taking care of my heart and my well-being – taking care of me. I will take care of me in 2017. The reality of impostor syndrome is a huge part of my story. And outside of the self-deprecation, impostor syndrome will exist as a benchmark for how I plan to live (and thrive) in 2017.

…how I plan to move forward.

I lived my truth in 2016. I left a phenomenal job to be a student again. I’m a student again, at an incredible institution with a brilliant set of faculty and colleagues. I have a partner who loves me more than I knew I deserved or could ever deserve. I have a chosen family I probably do not deserve. I am now taking one day at a time, and inviting you to join me on this adventure.

Will you commit to thriving in 2017?

No impostor,



Betsy DeVos & the Future of Education

The videos and memes have made their way around the internet and more people are tracking with the scary reality that Betsy DeVos might be our next Secretary of Education.

I watched the hearing. Albeit far from perfect, I mourned for our public education system. I watched live, and followed alongside dozens of friends and colleagues in the field, all spread across various forms of education (PreK-12, public, private, independent, higher education, student affairs, and more). We mourned together. We addressed concerns as she left the committee with hours of minimal and uninformed answers. We feared for the teachers and administrators, and all that might exist ahead.

We considered the children who will be left behind, and those who have been consistently left behind, again and again. This hearing was more than just grizzly bears as a reason to allow guns in schools. This was more than the difference between proficiency and growth. This hearing reflected the unsettling reminder that education continues to be an afterthought for many. The decision to confirm or not confirm Betsy DeVos is a reminder that many view education as non-essential, as a place where we can take risks, and as a “one size fits all” structure that can be addressed with a magic wand.

It’s more complex than a quick fix.

And the issues within are complicated.

Unfortunately, it seems few are paying attention.

We have to pay attention.

I posted an article from The Washington Post shorty after the hearing, and was surprised by the amount of teachers who reached out to me, including some from rural places across the midwest and in Oklahoma (where I am from). If you didn’t catch the hearing, please go back and listen to the questions, the answers, the non-answers, and the way in which education was de/valued among our elected leaders.

If you didn’t watch the hearing, go back and watch the entire thing (it’s just over 3 hours) – we are all impacted by what happens as a result of who takes this position.

And I say all of this as someone who believes in both public and private (independent) education, someone who went to public school my entire life (some schools were better than others), and someone who has committed their life to educating human beings – from PreK-12 to higher education, and beyond.

As a colleague posted on Facebook this week, “Don’t email. Don’t tweet. Don’t complain on Facebook. Call [your Senator]! If you have already called – encourage some friends [to call]!” The vote to confirm Betsy DeVos as Secretary of Education has been moved to January 31st. She has no experience with school leadership, teaching, or public education (which is a giant part of the gig). Our Senators have the ability to stop this confirmation by voting ‘No’ on her nomination – the nomination of someone who would not uphold civil rights for students with disabilities; the nomination of someone who would support guns in schools/school zones; the nomination of someone who made dangerous assumptions that every student has parents connected to them, involved as part of their education journey/decision-making process.

This is all problematic.

I care deeply about the status of our education systems. I care deeply about bettering these systems in order to truly support every student. Under a Betsy DeVos administration, I do not believe every student is supported, advocated for, and taken care of – especially those who are already left behind. We have to be better than this.

Concerned, frustrated, unsettled, mobilizing,


imrs.php.jpeg*photo by The Washington Post

A Commitment to 2017

As I reflect on 2016, I feel vigorously prepared for 2017.

In 2017 I plan to be more selfish and unapologetic than ever. There is power in saying, “I’m taking care of me right now,” and that’s ok!

In 2017 I’ll say “yes” to the things that fill me up and “no” to those seeking to take advantage of me. I intend to be conscious of my capacity.

In 2017 I’m giving myself permission to not be controlled by the power of email correspondence. I refuse to give in to “inbox 0.”

In 2017, I recommit to providing space for stories, storytellers, and storytelling – both personally and within the communities where I am active.

My attention to justice and equity will be stronger than ever in 2017. And my ‘megaphone’ will never be ‘turned off.’

As a PhD student, I recommit to sharing what I am learning; not all benefit from higher education and I will pay closer attention to this privilege in 2017.

Finally in 2017, I will ask questions, be unapologetically curious, and seek consistency across all disciplines in my life – mind, body, soul.

No impostor,


*photos are from my Top 9 of Instagram in 2016 (starting school, great moments with my partner, snow, and my ACPA Pecha Kulcha in Montreal)

Sometimes it’s not about you(r finals).


I’ve been struggling for a few weeks to write this post. While much of my interest in advocating for students around holidays and breaks comes from my belief in equity for every student, it is also very much drenched in my own personal experiences as a student many years ago…and again, as a student today.

Over the next two weeks, campuses will post, “Good Luck,” messages to students, and finals hours will become the new norm across the country.

Anxiety, too, will become a new (or revisited) norm for many.

As final presentations and papers are soon to be due, student anxiety will increase over the next few weeks. I have even found my own anxiety increasing since just before Thanksgiving. There was always something unsettling about the end of a semester for me. After my teenage years, holidays were rarely a pleasant experience. Through college and even after, I spent many Thanksgivings and winter breaks solo, or with friends (and/or their families). Wrapping up the semester, checking boxes for completed assignments, juggling un/wanted feedback, and gearing up for break, the end of the semester can become a nightmare of personal stress.

As I sit to write this post, the message that keeps running through my head is a plea to educators, “Please be patient with your students.”

Please be patient with your students.

The stress and anxiety associated with this time of year are not completely about final projects, tests, papers, and presentations. In addition to gearing up for the semester’s final stretch, some students’ stress comes from anticipating holidays and winter break. Much like Thanksgiving, winter break can be tough on many; some even without a place to go.

A few months ago I had the privilege of keynoting a conference in southern Indiana, and midway through my keynote, I shared with the audience that each semester I take time to use my voice on social media, advocating for those students who might be feeling some type of dissonance around this time of year – dissonance that exists beyond the expectation of “finals.” It wasn’t until recent that I associated these two anxieties with one another: the stress of finals + the stress of anticipating break.

Juggling my own anxiety this time of year (first semester doctoral student, and all of that), this has become much more clear to me

What can we do?
How do we best support students during this time?

First, ask questions and support students who you know aren’t thrilled about the next month of non-school instability. Consider the ones you don’t already know about who might feel this way. Connect your students to resources on campus and in the community, and remind them that they are worthy and loved. For some schools, it’s an on-call counselor, for other schools, it’s the student affairs staff who will take shifts. In some communities, it’s a counselor or social worker, or shelter or youth house.

Next, fight like hell for your students. If a residence hall or cafeteria closes for break on your campus, completely or with no alternative (OR is unreasonably expensive), speak up! If you fear for a student’s safety, speak up! Engage your staff, supervisor, or classmates, and establish a plan to challenge the system that is leaving students behind. Don’t simply send students away assuming, “it’ll all be okay.” Sometimes, it’s not okay. And sometimes, student are left in their cars, bunking up with ten others in a hotel room, spending thousands to get “home” for a few weeks, or heading “home” to a place that is not accepting, embracing, or safe.

Share hotline information (Trevor Project), or campus support numbers (again, the on-call counselor or counseling center staff). Draft a calendar of events with your student/s, help them see the whole break at a glance, giving them things to do or accomplish over the course of their time away from school. Simply listen to them. Some may not feel as pressed as others about going home, yet still remain anxious. A listening space will help them externally process (and anticipate) what might exist ahead.

Finally, instead of a “good job” on completing finals or projects, a simple, “I’m here for you as you go into the break,” could make all the difference. In fact, in some contexts, it might be exactly what they need.

Educators, teachers, faculty/staff, and beyond, as you take on these final weeks of the semester, please consider the students who are carrying much more than the load of your coursework. Trust me, it might not be about you(r finals).

Anxious, as well,