Page 4 of Rise Above

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everything in me. More importantly though, I need the PhD to further my career.”

“You’re so weird. Like, I thought you just needed

the master’s degree and license for social work? Don’t get me wrong, Aife, I’m happy for you, but I absolutely do not get it. Why is the degree so important if you’re already licensed?”

A small smile landed on my lips. Social work was

one of those weird degrees where a master’s was seemingly all you needed. I’d spent two hard, long years working my ass off to get that degree and an additional two, hard years earning my second licensure for social work.

Social work had to be licensed for anyone to be

hired, and there were three levels to it. Once I’d graduated, I’d spent four hours of my life on the Licensed Master Social Work exam. After that, I spent nearly two more years working hard to earn 3,000 clinical hours to earn my Clinical Social Work license. Then to make my life more fun, I took the same tests for Illinois so I could get my PhD and work at the same time.

I loved social work. It was my passion and my

calling. Usually, social workers stopped after the master’s degree because we could still conduct therapy whereas psychologists and psychiatrists needed a doctorate or MD. So many fellow social workers gave me grief for pursuing my doctorate simply because I didn’t need it to practice, and employers would have to pay me more for it. However, research was a subject I was desperately interested in, especially because I wanted to overhaul the health care system. That certainly required a PhD. So, I had applied at the University of Chicago and a few other places and was 15

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eventually accepted. Chicago also allowed me to continue to work in the hospital setting I wanted to be in. This was important to me and the next step in my life.

“It just is, Andrea. There’s so much change I want

to bring to the world, and a doctorate degree can only help.” Tucking some hair behind my ear, I glanced at my friend. Her opinion didn’t change my trajectory, but I did care.

Dre sighed softly. “I don’t get it, but I guess I don’t

need to.” She pulled into my apartment complex. “Write that intro, babe. You joining me and Natalie tomorrow afternoon?”

“If I can finalize my intro, I’m going to a pick-up

game with Davis.”

“Davis…” Dre scrunched her nose. “You know, I

don’t always like that dude. He’s constantly sweaty. Did you see him at tonight’s game?”

Laughing, I hugged my friend. “Yes, he is very

sweaty. He’s a great footballer though. Plus, he’s the only one willing to play with me. You and Nat are not sports players, just sports spectators.”

“Well, you got me there. See ya Monday, then?”

“Yes! Be safe!” I opened the car door and stepped

out. “Text me when you’re home.”

She nodded and peeled out of my complex, leaving

me alone. I sighed as I opened my apartment door. As much fun as I had with Dre, I knew better than to let myself take any kind of break. The dissertation was the final step before I needed to submit it to my advisor and defend it in 16

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order to actually earn my degree, and I had a strict timeline in order to finish it. Unfortunately, breaks did not factor very often into my work and writing schedules. Dre was right though: hockey was exciting and fun. Maybe I could at least watch sports on TV while I wrote.