Dr. Elliott
Photograph provided by Dr. Elliot
I wasn't ready to go to college. I thought I was, but at 18, I was not strong enough to navigate the social structures of a new place on top of all my academic responsibilities.
Dealing with social anxiety in college (for me this manifests not as shyness, but as spiraling fear of judgement and abandonment, causing an instinct to press too hard and hold on too tightly to people) far away from home, and without the support of a therapist, was crippling. I was desperately lonely in the middle of a social whirlpool of my own making.
I was a voice major at Carnegie Mellon in a tiny conservatory program. Our classes ran 12 hours a day, followed by tech crew until 1AM for the more advanced students' operas and musicals. There were 14 freshmen in my year who became my entire social circle--it was dramatic, to say the least. Between homework, practice, classes, and end-of-semester juries (preparing three art songs/arias to sing for the voice faculty, after which they would decide if you could continue in the program), I simply lost myself. I spent a lot of my time crying, getting into petty fights with my friends, and sleeping through my classes. With one month left second semester, I dropped out.
The rest of my undergraduate career continued in fits and starts. I changed majors four times. I took a year off. I failed all my classes one semester and got pneumonia. I transferred. I changed majors twice more.
I finally graduated when I was 25, having transferred to Georgia State and found my niche in the English Department there. I went on to my Masters and then my PhD, eventually gaining a faculty position at GA Tech in 2019. It was a bumpy road filled with almost too many potholes, but I did get through it.
I often reflect on my decision to pursue a career teaching in higher education. It's strange that this has been my calling given how much I hated my own college experience. But I think having access to the memories of how difficult it was for me to manage stress and depression when I was 18 (let's be real--this is a never-ending struggle), I am in a unique position to help my own students navigate these dark, turbulent waters. I try to be available to my students, to find them when they disappear, and to provide a safe outlet for them to talk to an adult who has been through it. I don't divorce myself from my students. I am here for them when they have anxiety attacks, when they fall behind in their classes, when their home and social lives become unbearable. I didn't have any teachers like that. A teacher is a leader, and to not express concern and caring for those one leads is unacceptable.
I still (and will always) struggle with depression and anxiety, often finding it difficult to do the menial tasks of my job and navigate professionally and socially. But I keep trying. I dropped out of college and now have a PhD. And I remember how all of it felt.
If you're reading this, you are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to take breaks. And you deserve to be treated like a human being by the faculty and administration of your university. You are absolutely not alone. I am here to listen, and so are many other professors. Never be afraid to ask for help. Never.
My office is Skiles 315. Once the pandemic is over, I'll be there, ready to listen.
Dr. Elliott, Georgia Tech
School of Literature, Media, and Communication
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