When I graduated from college, I asked one of my professors what I should do postgrad. He bluntly told me I should do what his daughter did: move to the Bahamas and become a waitress. Not what I wanted to hear after spending a ton of money at a private Jesuit university, so I ended up taking a year to digest this sage wisdom. When I to decided to apply for a Masters in American Studies degree a little less than a year later, I was rejected by my alma mater. Why? I do not know but I was overcome with sadness and anger. I realized it just was not my time and put that thought in the back of my mind. I always returned to the idea of going back to school and took classes here and there but could not commit.
After I turned thirty, I became engaged to a guy I went to college with, who quickly turned out to be all but a Prince Charming. One night I was having trouble sleeping (he was either in rehab or withdrawing in a hospital at the time), so I got up and decided it was time to take my life back. I did not want to be his wife, I did not want to be a mother yet; I wanted to go back to school. I had been a successful freelance writer for three and a half years at that point, so I found a Master’s in Fine Arts program at the college I graduated from. I had this odd loyalty to the school so I stayed up and wrote my admissions essay. I had this fire in my veins, an adrenaline rush while I was struggling to stay above water in my relationship and the only thing that could save me was writing.
The midnight application, along with a few late-night writing samples, ended up getting me into the MFA program. Yet, after two semesters of a 4.0 and a broken engagement, I decided to stand up to bullying in the program. I saw it happening to students around me, and as someone with a big heart, I always stand up for the underdog. The heads of the program did not appreciate me calling out the professors or students so I was given some ultimatums, none of which pleased me so I left. I did not know where I was going to go but I knew I had to go somewhere.
My first year was paid for by a trust fund that I had exhausted (no undergrad student loans, thanks, Grammy and Grandpa), but in order to continue, I would have to take out a loan. That was another driving force. I knew that with having a loan, I was not quite ready to pay it back so I applied, once again, for the American Studies program at my alma mater; seamlessly switching from the MFA to an MA. I soon found this program was completely different from when I had been initially rejected after undergrad graduation and soon decided to leave and look elsewhere. I soon looked more in-depth into a Broadcast Journalist Masters program at another private university nearby, applied and fell in love with the state of the art equipment and extreme professionalism. It was as if I had taken all of these windy roads to get to where I really needed to be. Before getting accepted, I took a tour of the facilities and knew this was it. I desperately wanted that master’s to show everyone who ever doubted me, and to show myself, that I was worth so much more than I, or they, ever believed. I also knew I’d have the ability to teach at a community college with a master’s so I could show kids who don’t believe in themselves that they do have a chance out there in this crazy world.
I got accepted based on recommendations and writing samples as well as prior grades. This was in January 2016. It was not an easy journey. I was challenged. I could read and write; the MFA program had been an easy 4.0, but this program took me to my limits in every way and definitely challenged me. I worked the entire time I attended, same as in undergrad because I know the value of hard work, probably now more than ever. I have a 3.44 and am on the cusp of graduating. In August, I will walk in our program’s private graduation and it is thrilling but scary. The fact that it is ending is bittersweet. I have worked so hard; I am about twelve years older than everyone else in the program, and with much more life experience so I often chuckle. A lot keeps getting thrown at me here not far from the end, in all aspects of my life, and it is easy to feel worn down. But I am almost at the finish line and no one can stop me now. I won’t let them! Graduation or bust!