The Little Ph.D Diploma That Could

Apparently, less than one in every one-thousand people on the planet holds a Ph.D. I am one of those people, and while I find the previous statistic overwhelming and humbling, I also find it easy to forget most days because I work at a university. And given the fact that I’m surrounded by Ph.Ds on a daily basis, it’s pretty easy to feel sometimes that I’m the dumbest girl in the room. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if what I’m admitting to here is the secret shame of most Ph.Ds–we’re all looking over our shoulders, waiting for that moment that someone, somewhere finally determines that our dissertation committees were all horribly, horribly wrong and we’re about to be exposed for the unworthy frauds that we are.

Perhaps this secret shame is what drives many of us to proudly display our diplomas in our offices, even though intellectually, everyone knows that none of us would be where we are without terminal degrees. I know that I am driven not only by this secret shame but also by the realization that despite the fact that my business card and email signature end in “Ph.D” and I’m referred to all over campus as “Dr. Amy Martin,” people walk into my office to find what I’ve been told looks like a fifteen-year old girl sitting behind my desk. And while my youthful appearance might score me some points if I were still looking to get a date to the prom, I figure that displaying my diploma in my office might give me some necessary credibility that my physical person doesn’t necessarily project (and the Dave Matthews Band tour posters on my office wall probably don’t help much in the credibility department, but you’ll have to pry those off my walls over my dead body).

So there it sits on my desk for all to see, in a lovely document frame–my Ph.D diploma. Except the document frame is an eight inch by ten inch, and my diploma is a little too small to take up the space, so I had to put a blank piece of paper behind the certificate to give the image that my document actually fits in the document frame. And then a few years ago, the ceiling in my apartment leaked, and my certificate got wet in the corner and now sports an ugly brown water stain.

But I’m generally pretty proud of my Little Ph.D Certificate That Could. And then I go to someone else’s office and see some eleven inch by seventeen inch monster in a gigantic oak frame, and I just want to run back to my office and put my certificate in a drawer before someone comes over and inwardly laughs at it, my teeny little diploma that looks like someone peed on it. 

And yes, I know–I know that it’s not the size of the diploma that matters but what you do with it. I know that for my particular field–composition studies–I went to one of the best schools in the country. But some days I long for a gigantic, old-fashioned diploma printed on real sheepskin. I remember a friend of mine once showed me her grandfather’s master’s degree and the thing took up half the goddamn wall. And it was a master’s degree, which made me wonder if Ph.D diplomas in those days were the size of plasma-screen TVs (and, ironically, my bachelor’s and master’s diplomas are larger in size than my Ph.D diploma, which is just an example of the quirky and entirely random differences between institutions of higher education).

But, again–it’s not the size of the degree but what you do with it. And sometimes, it’s not the degree at all-some of the most insightful people I’ve ever met didn’t finish high school, and a few of the biggest lamebrains I’ve come across hold terminal degrees in their respective fields. “Smart” and “capable” are matters of context. For example, while you might want me critiquing your writing, you certainly wouldn’t want me managing your finances. Under any circumstances. Trust me–you don’t want me around math.

And, ultimately, I know that on days when I’m feeling particularly unworthy of being anywhere within striking distance of the ivory tower, looking up at my wall and seeing a diploma as big as a Medieval tapestry isn’t going to help me. And, on the other hand, some days all I need to do is look over at my little water-stained Ph.D to know that I spent years preparing and that I really do belong in the same room as the rest of the smart kids. But either way, it’s all about me and my abilities, and a little (or big) piece of paper isn’t going to change that. 

And yet, a Ph.D diploma that’s at least as big as my TV would be nice. But I won’t hold my breath for a replacement.