I’ve been waiting for three months to write this post. I didn’t want to jinx anything.
And before you get excited for the wrong reasons, no, I’m not pregnant. God, no! I’m never doing that again. As you may recall, my body and pregnancy are not friends.
Something happened over the past decade or so. I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t really trying for it to happen. I was just here, doing my job. And then this fall, my boss and I started talking. He’s my dad’s age. He’d like to retire at some point. And there’s really no advancement left for me… Except for, well, his job.
Wait, what? I’m thinking about applying to replace him when he retires? Yeah. Surprised me, too. But since we’re planning to expand our accreditation, there’s no reason the head of our program has to be a physician.
There’s just one problem with us convincing the dean to promote me when the time comes. We work in higher education. I have a BA. Sure, I’m a CHCP, which is the primary credential for people who work in healthcare CE. But that’s not a degree. Academia is picky about those initials after your name. So I did the only logical thing: I applied to grad school. And yesterday I got my acceptance letter. I start classes in the fall and in two years, I’ll be able to add the initials MPH (master of public health) after my name.
Yeah, it’s a little crazy. I’ll still be working full time. And I’m still a single mother. And I’ll technically be a full-time grad student. Village People, I’m probably going to need you!
‘Cause when I wasn’t paying attention, I somehow wound up with a career.