Day 1: Orientation

Fuzzy headed and fearful, I dragged myself downstairs to see if I could figure out what I was supposed to be doing. It was a little after 8. No sign of Saybrook. (Our university meets in a hotel by the airport which is a little disorienting all by itself.) Breakfast seemed like a good idea and although the prices around here are enough to kill the appetite, I went for all kinds of things eating both from nervousness and trying to kill some time. "What if there is no PhD program?" I wondered. After breakfast I found a nice lady who said, "Are you with the MFT?"

"Saybrook," I muttered, wondering if the blackberries were stuck in my teeth.

"Yes, that's right. MFT?" she persisted.

I ran through my mental catalogue of acronyms and couldn't find one that fit.

"Sorry, I'm a little confused about the abbreviations," I apologized.

I discovered MFT stands for Marriage and Family Therapy and furthermore, my presence was not required until after one. I decided on a long walk. Maybe I could find a grocery store so I could afford to come back next semester.

Three miles later I had gotten a breathtaking view of water and airport. It has been a glorious sunny day in this part of California. My knees hurt but I felt semi-confident to handle the afternoon's activities.

We gathered in one of the hotel meeting rooms. There are a hundred and thirty-nine of us. (These are only the "new" students. The other five hundred or so will arrive tomorrow.)

The first thing I was handed was my transcript and an edited version of my writing sample. The handwritten note on the essay I'd sent said the following, "You address important issues through examining language--an interesting perspective. Your own prose is eloquent and precise (though wordy in places.) Once you've adopted APA style, you'll be well positioned to do Saybrook work." This was followed by a numerical graph that included bottom scores for unclear sentences and my evidence for my arguement. If you know me at all, you know I pride myself on my writing. (Okay Mary, I got the comment re: this blog, but it's a blog, for Pete's sake, not a critical essay.) Needless to say, all the insecurities of my youth resurfaced. They were redoubled when I sneaked a look at the young lady sitting next to me whose sample read "Excellent." She's twenty-two and just graduated from University in British Columbia.

Next we went around the room introducing ourselves. I hate this. I never know what to say. I always comfort myself by thinking everyone else is so busy worrying about their intro they aren't listening anyway.

But these fellow students? Clearly the girl sitting next to me wasn't the exception. They were all brilliant and funny, too. Most seem to be in the psych program in one form or another. I only counted five for the "organizational systems" PhD program. They didn't seem stupid either, but at least they weren't stunningly erudite.

After the mandatory (and for me, extremely painful) reception, we went to dinner. Food, it seems, is provided so I won't have to worry about the choice between starving or breaking the bank. I tried hard to make conversation with the people at my table, but the truth is, I'm old and not very interesting.

After dinner there was a lecture, "The Humanistic Tradition." Thank God I spent hours helping my granddaughter with her summer psych class. I'm not sure why we start with this except that Saybrook started out as a non-traditional psychotherapist training program. (Forgive me if I'm wrong here--I am new.) The lecture though was fascinating and as soon as I look up all the stuff I don't know, I'll recount the finer points. In the mean time, the lecturer teaches at Harvard and here and he pretty much knows everything and everybody. I don't mean that in a cynical way. He was/is brilliant in his lecture even if I have no idea who Gardner Murphy is.

So good night from San Francisco. I end the day much more fuzzy-headed, fearful, and in addition,the stupidest person at Saybrook.