Dire Straits of a Grad School Summer
We’ve come to the glorious time of year: the sun is shining, the flowers are in bloom, and the stress is high, because all of the procrastination has come back to haunt.
Normal people at the beach.
It’s the end of the semester. All my regular classes are done; all that stands between me and a good, long nap is a war game simulation, two take home finals, and a research paper. I’m almost there.
And then…what? For the first time in, well, I’m not sure how long; I don’t know what I am going to do this summer.
You see, grad school summers are unlike other summers because you only get one. You have to make it count. It’s not meant to be like an undergrad summer where you went home, turned off your brain, and worked at Starbucks. If only.
Grad school summers are meant to be productive: internships, fellowships, research, and immersive travel. You gain experience that makes your resume sparkle, access to an inner circle of working professionals in your field, and make connections with important people. And I don’t have that lined up.
It’s not for lack of trying: I’ve been worrying about my summer plans since the fall. Deadlines are early and were sometimes missed when I was swamped with work. And my twenty (give or take) applications to Pathways internships were rejected. And some of those beautifully crafted cover letters and resumes that I sent out into the ether received no response at all. I was offered one (unpaid) internship, but declined the offer for the high opportunity cost of the four hour minimum roundtrip commute.
So the question remains: just how picky should I be now? Is it worth it to apply for unpaid internships that are relevant to my career and academic interests? Should I now go after some Starbucks-like job just to supplement my pesky habits of eating and living indoors? Is forfeiting pay for valid experience possible? Is forfeiting valid experience for pay (likely a minimum wage job that will require a cash register) worth it?
Riddle me this: intern or barista?
Hence the dire straits of a grad school summer. Experience or pay? Where will I derive the greatest benefit? Which has the higher opportunity cost?
My brain and my heart are answering those questions very differently.
And the rest of my work is telling me to stop worrying about this and worry about finishing my paper on chemical weapons proliferation. Yeah, yeah work. I’ll be there in a minute.
I’ve Made My Choice
And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Or at least some of you…
Drumroll please…
I have made the life-altering decision of where to attend grad school. In the fall, I will be relocating the Virginia to go to George Mason University.
Going in to the decision-making process, the voice in the back of my head constantly needled me, saying “You know it’s going to be Mason. It’s your top choice.” Yet I needed to weigh all factors, all options, all offers. If just the right offer from the right program came along, I would snap it up, but almost all offered the same amount of federal unsubsidized loans.
Once I gave in to that ever present voice in my mind (which, coincidentally had been growing 
exponentially louder), I felt elated. I e-mailed a confirmation of enrollment to George Mason, and within a matter of minutes, it was settled.
Yet something still did not feel right. Perhaps because the enrollment process was not more of a ceremony, or required no deposit. Perhaps because other offers still lay open. Perhaps just because this decision signified entering unprecedented territory.
This uncertainty has eased as I have assuredly rejected the other programs to say “I’m just not that into you,” yet a feeling of stress has taken over. It’s difficult to not get bogged down in fretting the details of relocation, funding, and leaving all I know but every once in a while I take a moment and smile.
I’m going to George Mason University.
I’m taking a huge step toward the career I want and have dreamed of for years.
And that’s pretty incredible.
It’s Crunch Time
I have been longing to return to school for an “official” graduate program for years. Although I am technically enrolled in one currently, I take classes here and there part time through my employer, and it does not feel cohesive. It feels as though I am collecting piecemeal knowledge and throwing in a thesis at the end.
This past fall, I decided it was finally time to take the plunge and apply for “real” grad school. After extensive research and a pretty lengthy pro-con spreadsheet, I whittled my choices down to nine. Months later, I am now in the unenviable position of choosing where to go next fall.
I have started feeling like one of those helicopter parents who obsess about getting their child into the right preschool. If they make it, their child will be on the right path toward becoming a Supreme Court justice. If they don’t, then they will obviously never make it in life and end up collecting garbage for a living. I know in reality that there is not likely that large a disparity in opportunity between one program from the other, but I am legitimately afraid of what this choice is going to mean for my future. I am constantly reminded of the enormity of this decision, which deepens my fear.
I realize this is a great problem to have: I have options. I was accepted to more than one program, including my top choice. Yet, unlike my college acceptances nine years ago (seriously, it was that long ago?) it is not an automatic decision. At twenty-six, I am now considering many more factors than I did at seventeen.
I am now ever conscious of money. Aside from the fact that aid is generally less available to graduate students (I mean, come on! Don’t penalize me for furthering my education!), living is just expensive when you’re not in a dorm, and not working full-time. My top choice will only be offering me federal unconsolidated loans. A school that I am not too excited about is offering me at least one year of full tuition, and a graduate teaching fellowship that includes benefits and a living stipend. At the beginning of this process I told myself that I would go where the money was, but is it worth it to give up my top choice for a program that does not really fit what I am looking for, but will essentially pay me to go there?
Last year, I would have said yes, it’s worth it. I was determined to add as little (or no) debt on to the remaining $62,000 I still owe to Citibank and Sallie Mae for my undergraduate education. Yet now, I’m not really that certain. It seems silly to throw away free money, but it seems like that opportunity cost is just too high.
Rory’s pro-con list led her to Yale over Harvard! It’s a helpful tool!
I built another pro-con list, a la Rory Gilmore. Hers helped her realize that she should attend Yale. No one expected that. Rory was destined for Harvard. Mine so far has elucidated that my top choice has the best pros, but some stronger cons. The next school in line (which is offering some funding, for a point of reference) is strictly at the middle of the road. The school offering all the funding had the strongest cons and the fewest pros. It has also shown that the school where I am waitlisted has the most amusing cons.
This could be me studying on campus, but which campus?
I have poured over faculty lists, examined class schedules, googled cost of living indexes, and checked out what apartments were going for on Craigslist in their respective locations. I have imagined myself living in each of these places, introducing myself as a graduate student there. I picture myself wearing that logo sweatshirt, walking on campus, going to a football game (because I will actually get to go to a school with a football team this time around).
I have less than a week to decide. Going to graduate school is going to change my life no matter where I go. I have to remind myself that my life likely will not be drastically different (at least not career-wise) by choosing my top choice over the second choice. Yet I still cannot shake that feeling in the pit of my stomach that THIS is the decision that will make it or break it for me. THIS is the one that I need to tread lightly on or suffer the consequences.
Only hindsight will clarify my choice. Despite my latent fear, I also have a feeling that I just need to follow my gut, as I did with my undergrad. There, I just knew what to do. I have already paid dearly for it (and will continue to do so for another two decades), but it was worth it for four years of an excellent education and an amazing college experience. My gut was right once, and I think it can be right again.
How about you? If you went to grad school, what was your decision process like? Or your process for general huge life decisions? Was it gut or money?
Quarter Life Crisis
Twice in the past month I have had existential bouts with crisis that have rendered me into a sobbing, near-hysterical mess.
What am I going to do with my life?!?!
For several years now, I have held a growing interest in the Middle East, international affairs and public policy. I thought that I had found several programs that would encompass all of these interests in a single program (that is, including a dual degree or joint concentrations). I even took a job at one of these said institutions to get closer and to learn whatever I could before application.
But then reality hit.
How can I afford school? How am I going to get into a top program? How can I afford the rest of my life while going to school? How am I going to get a job after school? Will I ever get to see my boyfriend? What will I do with my degree? Why would a program accept me with my years of administrative experience? I am going to be stuck doing boring work my whole life. I’ll never go to grad school. I’m going to wake up at 60 and realize that I am so unhappy and have a huge list of dreams unrealized.
On and on it went (and goes). I often get so frustrated, thinking that a program will not want to take me because of my lack of applicable experience, and feel like I’ll get stuck working in administration for years.
I have had this image in my head of grad school: just take a couple years off after college, work for a bit, build some “real life” experience that appears to be so crucial on graduate applications, and then return to school, find a way to have it paid (or go part time and work), and then get a job in a field I love.
The more I learn of real life, the less and less this picket fence image seems possible. I have come to accept that a top ranked program in New York or DC might not be possible, or getting through school without adding (possibly significantly) to my not-so-small mound of debt is unlikely, and making less at my first post-grad job than I do now as an admin is rather certain.
Not to mention that finding an adequate program has been proving tougher than originally thought. I want to have a career that combines public policy and international affairs, which tends to manifest itself in either academic research or management. Neither of which is exactly appealing.
And then there’s the issue of location. My boyfriend is a current grad student at the University of Kentucky. Our long-distance relationship is already too tough on us, but my grad school attendance has the potential to extend our distance for a few more years. Neither he nor I is willing (at this time) to sacrifice full opportunities for one another’s careers, but it leaves us with an daunting idea: apart forever. We are both two focused individuals, which may serve to be a disservice. We both need to search our souls, our interests and our wallets to figure out our next steps, but we both keep each other on the front burner, as it could be a clincher.
So what now?
I’ll have to go back to the drawing board: reexamine all of the programs I’ve already researched, find several more defined paths, e-mail old professors, and seek out the assistance of career and graduate counselors. I’ll have to look into more public schools, more types of financial aid, and maybe wait a few years more.
While my crisis is far from over, I can at least try to breathe easy as I refocus my search, ask smarter questions and make more informed choices about my future.
Does this adulthood stuff ever get any easier?
I Quit.
No, I don’t quit this blog, my job, or my relationship. I quit school. Sort of.
My quitting was much more quiet
Just after Thanksgiving, I faced an admittedly easy assignment in one of my two classes: a 5-8 page paper on the 2007 Danish cartoons crisis for my Islam class. I stared and stared at the blank page on my computer screen, and nothing was coming to me. Did I have an opinion? Not really. Had my class really prepared me to have one? Not really.
I was growing anxious – just over 36 hours left to submit this paper and it was clear that I was going nowhere. Then a nagging reoccurring thought appeared – drop the class. This idea had come to me right before my last paper was due, and then largely every Monday when I trudged across campus even as my body called for rest. But this time it was more valid.
I polled several friends – one encouraged me to buck up and do my best and aim for a B. A “withdrawn” grade would not be appealing on a transcript to a potential grad school admissions officer. Another suggested that I work for a few hours and rest and wake up again and finish. I was even promised persimmon cookies as a reward. But I knew that it was best if I quit.
So I did.
But what does quitting mean? I will have a grade of “withdrawn” on my transcripts, which might detract from my overall package once I get around to applying to grad school. But I saved myself loads of anxiety and freed up hours (perhaps days) of time to devote to other pursuits. But I quit. I quit school. I never thought I’d say that.
I am a person who has an undying quest for learning. I will never tire of seeking out information on any number of random topics. But I gave up on this opportunity. Why? Because I didn’t want to do a paper? It was more than that. I was fairly unhappy with the trajectory of the course – I was definitely learning more about Muslims in Europe, but I wasn’t connecting with the material. It felt tedious to attend class, which I have never experienced. I disliked the dynamic of the class, and was not getting out what I wanted to get out of it.
I still know that it was the right decision, and am confident that my portfolio of grades, work experience, recommendations and activities can assure me admission to most any grad program of my choice, but I still feel… odd. Especially in a time that I am working hard to honor my commitments.
But there are just times that quitting is deserved, or even necessary. And this was just one of those times.
Out of School Blues
The fall semester began at my alma mater, Emerson College, this past Monday. This marks the second September that I haven’t returned to school, textbooks and syllabi. It leaves me with this odd sense that I am forgetting something; 16 years of the back-to-school mentality is a hard habit to break. I find myself jealous of the undergrad students I see walking around Boston and grow nostalgic for a time that seems one life ago.
As a person addicted to learning, this lack of consistent classroom time is making me question my purpose. I left school knowing that I would return in a few years looking for higher education in the fields of public policy and international affairs. However, the reality of this so-called “real life” is showing me that I need more experience outside of academia to get to where I need to be.
Yet all the jobs I find that will allow me to garner just the right background all require at least two years of direct experience. Thus begins the eternal circle of career development; a catch-22 that I have yet to crack.
Many people find loopholes in this contradiction and prosper. Some find new life paths. Which will I be? How can I become this anomaly to succeed in my original intent?
This has become my quest: finding the right answers to these questions. I’ve been thrown in to the “rat race” and “shark-infested waters” of real life and I hope to fall feet first so I can continue running at top speeds. I’m a kerplunker, a person who has entered a new life and must learn to swim.
Let’s just hope that I can turn my thrashing strokes into graceful glides.
Falling Feet First 