3.1 The road to successfully completing doctoral studies: a tale  (Page 5/7)

This frame of thought was truly evident when a visiting professor filled in for one of our instructors. As the class began, he encountered 12 eager, prepared, and opinionated doctoral candidates. Once the assignment was made, we were absorbed in our small groups with little direction necessary. He finally left the room leaving us on our own. When he returned later, the task was completed; he was astonished to see how the dynamics of the group had actually moved him from instructor to facilitator in the learning process. Cohort VII had reached the point that Carr (2006) has described as a democratic setting that established the understanding of teaching and, more importantly, learning.

One could assume that this new found discovery might cause the cohort to develop an air of superiority. Because of our original belief statement, none of us would have allowed that to happen. Yet, questions about this phenomenon occurring with Cohort VII still surfaced. In fact, one professor devoted an entire night to explore what was happening to the group. This group of would be strangers exemplified the cohort model of learning. We worked together, took care of each other, provided ongoing support, and reached beyond Monday and Tuesday nights to create something rarely seen. He marveled at how the learning for the group and the teaching of the instructors moved us from an ordinary to extraordinary cohort.

Beyond the learning experiences, the core subjects, and the class instruction, our cohort became a family. For over 2 years, we celebrated births, marriages, anniversaries, hospital stays, and even loss. With each personal goal achieved, we were equally met with the possibility of emotional risks. When we agreed to forego some of our individuality for the betterment of the group, we took on the responsibility to care for each other through various life events. This was especially felt when we lost our Jackie.

On the highest shelf in my office sits a picture of Cohort VII. Smiles on our faces and hope for our futures resounding in our hearts, we stand together on the steps of an old home just as we had done since that first night. Above me stands Jackie. She is poised as always with just the hint of a smile. I can recall her sweet, helpful disposition even to this day.

I received the news of her passing through an email. My mind could barely understand what it said. Jackie had been having some health problems and was admitted into the hospital for tests. She did not make it through the night. Something like this could not happen to Cohort VII. The cohort was blessed. This cohort was like no other. How could this pain have entered our family, but it did. Her loss still brings this Earth mother a knot in my throat and tears to my eye. All the magic that was created by Cohort VII could not console us as we said our goodbyes.

A quote from the author, Meg Cabot, best explained what I was feeling,“In order for people to be happy, sometimes they have to take risks. It’s true these risks can put them in danger of being hurt”(The Quotations Page, www.quotationspage.com/subjects/risk, n.d.). The creation of the cohort had been filled with risks. We had to juggle personal and professional lives to achieve the doctorate. Our individuality became secondary as compared to the goals of the group. And with the development of our Cohort VII family, we placed our hearts and minds on the line. Patel (2006) confirmed this thinking when she wrote,“By avoiding risks, you may avoid some suffering and sorrow, but you can’t learn, feel, change, grow and love.”In learning to care for each other, we put ourselves at risk to experience both the joy and the pain of our doctoral experience.