In which Katie spends her Tuesday getting screwed over by a dental professional, Vol. 2

For about eight hours today, I was having one of those days, unique to your mid-twenties, when you feel a rush of excitement that you're finally in control of your financial life, finally independent, able to fully support yourself. It feels good! It feels amazing to realize that I'm moving to New York City, and I'm paying for the whole damn thing! I can actually do this and it's weird and it's awesome.

What I've lost this past week in terms of appetite and dignity, I've certainly made up for in productivity. By noon, I had hashed out a budget with a loan counselor at school and discovered I need to borrow $10k less than I thought; finalized my move-out with my landlord; emailed 6 potential roommates; and rented a 14' U-Haul for next week's move. That shit? I was knocking it out of the park.

By the time 2:00 rolled around, I was walking into the Medical/Dental Building downtown with an extra spring in the old step, nearly no longer terrified of meeting the oral surgeon to talk about my wisdom teeth (RIP). I actually thought to myself "It feels kind of good to pay for my own dental bills."

I'll just put my pansy self right out there: the thought of having my wisdom teeth out terrifies me, for totally irrational reasons. I don't want to be put to sleep. I don't take pain medication. I have major anxiety about not having control of my faculties and having people all up in my grill freaks me out. I'm a wimp. Case closed. That's where I'm coming from.

So when this surgeon comes into the room, throws my xray up on the computer screen and starts barking to her assistant about sinus cavities and bones and nerves and "complications" and then molesting my mouth with her finger, I start to lose it.

Of course, because I'm already effing terrified, I'm told I have a "very complicated case" and she will "absolutely not do this without general anesthesia" and something about bacteria rotting my face and my lower lip tingling for life. I cry. This encourages her to go soft on her Pro-Anethesia stance and agree to do some sort of heavy sedation shit. Fine. Whatever. Get it over with. I hate you.

And then comes the bill. I had talked to friends about this and everyone said "Eh, couple hundred bucks, don't worry about it." So I was, naturally, expecting to pay $500 max. Fine. Whatever. Get it over with. I hate you. I'm handed the bill and .... $3,100. That's right, $3,100. I burst into tears.

Granted, my insurance will pay for some, but I'm still left with a big, whopping $1,700 to cover, out of pocket. Oh, the fucking irony.

So I'm trying to weigh my options at the front desk when I say something to the effect of "I just, today, signed $40k in student loans. I'm not putting this on credit. I'm moving to New York in one month, this is ridiculous." And the office manager says, apparently trying to console me (?), "Oh, where are you going to school? ... Columbia! Don't worry honey, you'll have plenty of money later." What the fuck? Who says that? I'm not going to med school, or law school, honey. I'm going into debt so that I can work at a non-profit. It's awesome and I can't wait and I wouldn't have it any other way, but don't tell me to buck up and take it, don't give me that "Oh please, stop overreacting" look, because you assume I'm going to have loads of expendable income in the future. Was I just reverse-discriminated against? It was weird.

My solution is, I'm just pulling two teeth. The easy ones. The one with a cavity and it's sister. The others can wait.

And of course, because I'm a worrier, this immediately made me think of the millions of people who don't have dental insurance. How the hell do they pay for this stuff? And of course, those who don't have insurance, probably aren't those who can suck up a $3,100 bill, and probably aren't the ones who can take a week off of work to recoup. And those health problems just get worse, and lead to other things that can't be treated. Ugh. It makes my gut hurt just thinking about it. It's all cyclical.

Though I'm finding some solace in the fact that this Tuesday I can say, it's just business. Not personal.

*I saw this poster next to Animals on 12th this morning as I was walking to work ... I thought it fitting.

The Waiting Game

So, I've got my reservations when it comes to talking about graduate school with People in General, mostly because I'm so emotionally invested at the moment that the possibility of facing the humiliation of explaining (should I need to) that I was rejected, is just too much to bear. That said, I can't shut up about it.

That said, I'm having a shitty week. I want to put something positive out there. So here is this: one of the many personal statements I slaved over these past few months. I'm not saying it's my best writing, but it's a reaffirmation of one of the goals I'm working toward and that is needed at the mome.

-----------------------------------------------------------

When I graduated from college in 2005, words like “advocacy,” “equity,” and “social justice” were not a part of my daily lexicon. As a history major, I was instead focused on pursuing a career in museum work, excited by the idea of working for institutions that provide access to knowledge and experiential learning opportunities for children and adults alike. Two years later, here I am, instead applying to the Politics and Education M.A. Program at Teachers College, because my passion for education and community engagement has morphed into a fervid commitment to service.

The turning point came six months after graduation when I accepted a job at the Access to Justice Institute, part of the law school at Seattle University, which, as a Jesuit university, is dedicated to "educating lawyers for a just and humane world." Immediately upon joining the Institute, I found myself embedded in a world of public interest attorneys and social justice advocacy. Since then, my days have been defined by constant, and often frustrating, revelations about the class disparities, race and gender discrimination, legal, health and education inequities that are pervasive in our communities locally and nationwide.

I continued to pursue my passion for museum work for some time after joining the Institute, but found the disconnect between my interest in museums and my daily work increasingly uncomfortable to reconcile: my weekends were spent in the classroom learning how to correctly label and store 200-year old textiles while my weekdays were spent assisting severely disadvantaged populations in the middle of often desperate situations. It soon became obvious that no museum exhibit, no matter how well researched and brilliantly marketed, was going to change the reality of the survivors of abuse, immigrants, and disabled, homeless, and non-English speaking clients I interact with everyday at work.

As hard as my colleagues and I work to assist clients and educate students about opportunities for service, however, I am often frustrated that our position is a reactive one: relieving symptoms, not providing long-term solutions to underlying problems. This experience at the Institute has drawn me toward policy work as a more direct and effective means of affecting change.

As someone who believes education has the potential to disrupt seemingly perpetual patterns of inequality, I am especially interested in policy and community work that supports educational equity and advocates for the well-being of children and families. Our current social policies are often adversarial in alleviating stresses on poor families, which in turn are stresses on children, creating patterns of adversity from a young age. I want to play a part in creating an infrastructure of sustainable and compassionate educational policy solutions, with the hope that through education we can equip future generations with the tools to alleviate the disproportionate burdens that exist in so many of our communities.

The values of Teachers College reflect the same values that have propelled me into the field of education policy: a desire to understand the multi-faceted social problems that undercut educational progress, and a commitment to developing solutions. For those reasons I am especially drawn to the Campaign for Educational Equity and the work of Professors Amy Wells and Edmund Gordon, all of which I would consider invaluable sources of guidance, information and inspiration during my time at Teachers College. With our shared values and commitment to service, Teachers College can be assured that their investment in me as a student will be nurtured and constantly reinvested throughout my career.