A few months ago, my supervisor applied for a grant that would allow him to keep me in Amsterdam – so that we could work together, so I could learn more from him, and so I could support myself while doing it. The research topic is very interesting to me – very, very challenging because I know very little about the domain so far, but very interesting nonetheless.
I remember he’d told me that he didn’t apply during the first round of applications for various reasons, but when we decided that he would supervise my master’s thesis, he asked me whether I would be interested in working with him on the topic. Going deeper, dealing with more complex statistical models. I admire this man, his drive, his work ethic, and his knowledge. I would give anything to work with him, be his PhD student, or just learn from him. So, of course, I said yes. I had no idea what I was saying yes to at the time, because I didn’t even fully understand my thesis topic yet, but I just knew that this is right. And the fact that he was excited and enthusiastic to work with me was validating as well.
So, he applied. And we were both eagerly awaiting the results. From time to time, over the past few months, he would mention it. Always something like, “If that grant is approved, we could do XYZ… It will be so exciting.” I barely understand what he’s saying most times because my statistical knowledge is nowhere close to his, but the thought of working with him is an intellectual dream for me.
We waited quite a few months. The results were due on the 6th of February. And as the date crept closer, I found myself getting more anxious in anticipation. I really wanted to work with him. I really wanted to learn from him. This grant would give me months, potentially a year, of security, education, and guidance. This grant was ‘it’ for me. Of course, I’ve been considering other jobs, been stressed about what I’m going to do next in case this didn’t work out. But I have secretly been rooting for this. This was the ideal.
On Monday, two days ago, we had an impromptu meeting because I had some questions for him. I wanted to ask him about some data that we were soon going to have access to, my proposal (which had to be submitted soon), and some literature. We sat together in a tiny meeting room while he answered my questions. I think it was room D7.19? I’m not sure. But anyways, he was showing me an email he wrote to my reviewers, defending something I said in my proposal. I was really engrossed in the email, trying to understand what he meant. We had also been talking for over 20 minutes now, so my brain was quite saturated with all the statistics. Basically, it wouldn’t be long until my brain was completely fried.
But suddenly, he turned his laptop away from me for just a moment before once again shifting the screen in my direction. He didn’t say a word. He was just watching me. I was staring at some wordy email. My brain was already foggy, so it took me a moment to register that I should read it. Just as I began processing the words in the email – I only glanced at a couple, like: “grant” and “approved” – he told me that we got it. We got the grant. And this was the early notification email. It hit me. That’s potentially a year longer of working with him. I looked at him and burst into the biggest smile I think I have had in a long time. I was so freaking happy about this. He was so freaking happy about this. The next few minutes were just a blubber of words. Me expressing my joy and my relief. Telling him I’m so excited to learn from him, how I’m so grateful that he applied on our behalf, and basically just losing my mind. He, on the other hand, kept saying that he’s really happy because he can work with me now and if he couldn’t give me a PhD position, at least he could give me this. He said that with this in my CV, I will have a really strong base for a PhD. I would make a great candidate. Hearing him say those words and hearing the pure joy in his voice was so infectious. I especially found it really funny and heartwarming when he said, before we left the room, that he has to go tell one of my other teachers, a reviewer for my proposal, because he literally couldn’t contain his happiness and excitement.
Neither of us were making any sense those last few minutes. We were just all smiles and random words. It was glorious. We were just two people, one mentor and his mentee, in a meeting room, rejoicing an opportunity to learn and work together. It was so pure and so real. Our own mini, private celebration. I would not have had this any other way. The utter joy in that exchange and the fact that it was so personal is what made it perfect to me. He said that this position was made for me, quite literally.
And I’m so happy to be able to work with him. I’m so happy to be able to honour the resources he can provide me. And I’m not supposed to tell anyone until it’s official. Which hasn’t been hard, to be honest. Because this doesn’t feel real yet. It feels like it was a dream, and this will be taken away from me any moment. I mean, what did I do to deserve something so wonderful? I am so lucky to have him as a supervisor. He is so encouraging and great.
But anyways, I had to write this to express my emotions in some way since I can’t tell my family or my friends yet. The details need to be worked out, still. There’s a long way to go and possibly some more hurdles to jump over before we’re truly there. But hopefully, things will be more official soon, and I can share the news.
Written on Wednesday, February 1, 2023
Memoirs of a Muse 