When I decided to get a doctorate, I compiled a list of schools who offered the degree I wanted. There were approximately 20 schools and I began to research each school and dream a little about what life would be like there. I contacted each school - except for one. That school got moved to the very bottom of my list simply by virtue of its location. After all, who would voluntarily move to Detroit?
One day, after an interesting few hours subbing at the local elementary school, I came home to a quiet house and glanced at the list. There it was: the lone school I was NOT interested in pursuing. But I had been praying and asking the Lord for guidance in the decision process, and as I looked at that list, I felt compelled to call Wayne State University.
It was a nervous Kentucky girl who dialed those numbers and was greeted by a voice on the other end who promptly told me that I had been given the wrong number. I asked for the correct number, but the person I was speaking to said I couldn't hang up. "Tell me about you. Tell me about your background. Tell me about your educational dreams." I was puzzled and still a little nervous. After a few minutes, the voice boomed from the end, "Some people collect baseball cards. Some collect coins. You apparently collect master's degrees." I didn't know if I should be embarrassed or should laugh.
At the end of thirty minutes, the call ended and my mom walked in from her job as a high school guidance counselor. I announced, "I'm moving to Detroit and I'm going to study with a man named Dr. Martinez."
Within months, I was here - where I planned to earn my doctorate and then move to some exotic locale.
I got that doctorate. I'm still here twenty-something years later. And boy oh boy, did I ever get an education!
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