Talked to a recruiter from UCLA, looking to enlist me for a PhD program.
The floundering state would “help” me–unlike the school districts, whose idea of helping teachers get their degrees or credentials, the state would actually post me to campus.
They would not, however think for me.
They evidently need somebody with a PhD in Correctional Education on staff and thought maybe I was smart enough (I am) and vain enough (I’m not) to go for this.
Oh, I listened for FOUR WHOLE HOURS.
I asked a lot of questions, because I really am vain enough but I’m not stupid. A PhD is a LOT OF WORK. And I only have a few more years of this—okay, maybe four. Or six. Or ten.
But I don’t have enough time left IN MY LIFE to spend it driving back and forth to UCLA if Stevie Wonder was at the wheel and Ray Charles was riding shotgun.
So, no thanks.
My REAL reason?
This goof told me that my “work” here at the prison was noble and worthwhile.
Like I need his validation to know that.
Like I need anyone’s validation.
Or a Ph fucking D.
Like that would make me more of who I am.