The Story of My Life

I spent the morning at the General Store Cafe in Pittsboro, one of my favorite places in the world to hang out. I love the food, I love the ambience, I love the Irish music, the bluegrass music, and the salsa music you can hear there several nights per week. I love the friendliness of the staff and the fact that the owner supports many local community groups and causes. I love the way it's jam-packed with cool stuff on the walls and on the shelves, and how you can go there to start up a conversation, or be by yourself, holed up in the back with your cup of coffee and a book, either one you brought or one you picked off of their shelves. So it was the perfect place to spend the morning while Grace was in school down the road. I came prepared with my laptop and Kaplan GRE study book and figured I had a solid three hours to cram in what I could in my few days left before the exam.

I find a semi-private table with a power outlet as my battery is running low. Got my coffee and my breakfast burrito and I was ready to hit the GRE book, something I haven't given proper attention to these last few months. This pleasant young woman walks up with a laptop too and says, "I see you're here doing what I'm doing," and when I see that her sweatshirt reads, 'CAROLINA School of Social Work,' I say, acknowledging her shirt, "Well, actually I am applying to the School of Social Work, and I'm taking the GRE on Friday."

She's a second year UNC Law student who also has an MSW from UNC. But the sweatshirt is her husband's: he did the program part-time. Really? Does she know my friend A.M. who's a first year? We talk about Law School. We talk about the School of Social Work and what I'm currently doing and what her husband's currently doing, and what she'd eventually like to do, and what my eventual dream job is. Wait, I ask. Her husband did an internship at UNC hospitals? Would he know S.T? Why yes! And would she by chance know J? Yes indeed! J is my neighbor! And ABM is my second cousin! And JH finished the program a few years ago, and we've known each other since the third grade. After talking for about thirty minutes, I ask her name. Her name is EB, but she's only been married two years, and her maiden name is EH. She tells me to please have AM e-mail her. She knows things about the Law School that most first years don't learn. She knows a ton about the MSW application process and how your GRE score matters little compared to the letters of recommendation you get and that 3 is an arbitrary number and she really recommends me asking S.T. (a recent graduate) to write a letter on my behalf.

At least a half a dozen times we both say, "Oh, just one more thing, and then I've really got to study." But one more thing turns into five more things, and we're still having this great conversation an hour later. She lives near me and she's offered to babysit if we ever need someone. She used to go to my church. She asks me if I've considered applying for the 'cooperative' which is an agreement to work for an NC Department of Social Services for so many years after earning an MSW in exchange for tuition payments. When she hears more about my experience and interests, she says that she hopes I somewhat consider the cooperative but very much hopes I consider going for my PhD in Social Work and not stopping at the MSW level. And she strongly recommends that I talk to K in the program before my application is reviewed. She tells me over and over that I'll get in, even if I bomb the GRE; she's seen it happen time and time again.

My solid three hours have dwindled to just over an hour. We agree that, no really, we'll stop talking so we can both get some work done. But first we exchange e-mail addresses. I take a practice Verbal test and a practice Quantitative test. I do pretty well on verbal and pretty bad on the math.

I've heard it, I've read it, I understand it: how well you do on the GRE has little to do with how much actual knowledge you have. It's all about knowing the techniques to answer the questions correctly. Today I was going to spend three good hours reviewing those techniques that I've been sort of learning in the last few months. Because I believe that a good GRE score will increase my chances of getting accepted into the program. But instead, I spend my time making a very valuable connection with a bright young woman who pours me multiple glasses from her fountain of knowledge of how to increase my chances of getting accepted into the program. The irony is not lost on me.