Higher Education
Jan. 13th, 2012 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Higher Education
Rating: PG.
Summary: Three generations of higher education.
Notes: The author does not believe that one can use "just" in connection with any degree of any sort, but that's Gail for you.
"So how's it feel, Dr. Hirschfeld?" Cecily asked, picking confetti out of her hair.
Gail snorted, and had a sip of champagne. "It's just a master's, Cess, not a PhD." Yet, she added, silently. She wanted some teaching experience first.
"So?" Cecily collected the last piece and cupped it in her palm, blew gently on it. "I can call you Dr. Hirschfeld if I want."
"Just so long as you know I haven't earned it," Gail said, and sat back.
"Yet," Cecily said, and tossed the confetti over her sister's head, shredded color spinning down in a whirlwind of paper.
--
Everyone comes to her graduation. Everyone, and Summer doesn't say that lightly. Mama, Papa, Ivy, Aaron, Gina, Clara, Lars, Danny, Jake, Olivia, her niece and nephews... she wonders if they rented a bus to get them all down from New York. She loses count of how many times people call her Doctor Kendall. It's a thrill every time, and a little frightening.
She's a real doctor now. She's not playing anymore. People's lives-- and more importantly deaths-- depend on her.
It's strange to be thinking of death when there's so much confetti in the air, but that's how she is.
--
Leah will laugh, and duck as Molly pitches a handful of confetti at her, shedding little colored pieces when she moves. She will examine Andy's elbow when he bangs it on the bleachers, ignore him when he says, "You're not that kind of doctor, Leah!" as she always has. She will display her diploma for the cameras, revel in her new title.
She will be the fifth in her family to earn the right to "Doctor." She will feel very traditional, very pleased.
"We're a smart family," her mom will say, and she will nod, happily, because it is true.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Three generations of higher education.
Notes: The author does not believe that one can use "just" in connection with any degree of any sort, but that's Gail for you.
"So how's it feel, Dr. Hirschfeld?" Cecily asked, picking confetti out of her hair.
Gail snorted, and had a sip of champagne. "It's just a master's, Cess, not a PhD." Yet, she added, silently. She wanted some teaching experience first.
"So?" Cecily collected the last piece and cupped it in her palm, blew gently on it. "I can call you Dr. Hirschfeld if I want."
"Just so long as you know I haven't earned it," Gail said, and sat back.
"Yet," Cecily said, and tossed the confetti over her sister's head, shredded color spinning down in a whirlwind of paper.
--
Everyone comes to her graduation. Everyone, and Summer doesn't say that lightly. Mama, Papa, Ivy, Aaron, Gina, Clara, Lars, Danny, Jake, Olivia, her niece and nephews... she wonders if they rented a bus to get them all down from New York. She loses count of how many times people call her Doctor Kendall. It's a thrill every time, and a little frightening.
She's a real doctor now. She's not playing anymore. People's lives-- and more importantly deaths-- depend on her.
It's strange to be thinking of death when there's so much confetti in the air, but that's how she is.
--
Leah will laugh, and duck as Molly pitches a handful of confetti at her, shedding little colored pieces when she moves. She will examine Andy's elbow when he bangs it on the bleachers, ignore him when he says, "You're not that kind of doctor, Leah!" as she always has. She will display her diploma for the cameras, revel in her new title.
She will be the fifth in her family to earn the right to "Doctor." She will feel very traditional, very pleased.
"We're a smart family," her mom will say, and she will nod, happily, because it is true.
