The July After College: Uncertainty and High Hopes
In July 2002, exactly four years ago, I wrote the following words:
"July. The middle of my last summer as a child, the month in which my past remains but a memory and the future has yet to arrive. The stagnant month, locked in place by the fear of letting go and the fear of accepting change. The month that hides the truth, not allowing me to understand what good-bye will feel like. The month that haunts my imagination, forcing me to picture myself in unseen places and experiences. For me, it seems that the July before college is a time of uncertainty and unanswered questions about the person I am, the person I want to be, and the person I have yet to become.
Although right now it feels like July will never end, July will become August and August will quickly become the rest of my life. Scary and exhilarating!"
Just one week away from graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science and a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance, I look back on those words and realize that once again I am in the same place. The July after college is much like the July before college - a time of uncertainty. Everyone says it is normal for new college graduates to feel confused and scared of what the future holds, but no one told me just how frightening it would be. Although my experiences at Barnard were invaluable, there are some things that college cannot teach.
I spent four years learning about Jeremy Bentham's Greatest Happiness Principle and Serge Diaghilev's Ballet Russes. I can tell you anything you want to know about John Locke's "A Letter Concerning Toleration" or Isadora Duncan's innovative approach to dance in the early 1900s. If you want to know about John Rawls and his theories on justice, I'm your girl. How about Fanny Elssler and Marie Taglioni's contributions to ballet during the Romantic era? No problem there. I can definitely boast that I have become proficient in many topics ranging the entire spectrum of academia. Although discussing political theory and the history of dance will undoubtedly help me sound intelligent at fancy shmancy New York City gatherings, I fear that I have not yet mastered the skills I will need to move forward in the career I hope to pursue. That is why I applied to Columbia Graduate School of Journalism.
I had always planned on attending graduate school. During my first two years at Barnard, I was intent on applying to law school so I could become an entertainment lawyer. As I continued writing for Dancer and exploring my love for writing, however, I realized that law school and I were not a perfect fit. For many Ivy League students, attending law school or medical school is part of the post-graduate projected path. Luckily, I had an epiphany sometime during my junior year, and I realized I must do what I want, not what others expect of me. As my high school journalism teacher told me over five years ago, I am far too candid to sit hidden behind piles and piles of legal briefs, contracts, and depositions.
When I came to this realization and broke the news to my family that I did not want to attend law school, I knew I had to devise a new plan. I spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how I would combine my love for dance and the arts with my love for reading and writing. Suddenly, as the words of my high school journalism teacher reverberated in my head, I had another epiphany. My calling was obvious; I would become a journalist.
Many people I have spoken to assure me that graduate school is unnecessary to pursue a career in journalism. As I explained in my application to journalism school, there are many things that I still need to learn even though I have been writing for Dancer since my senior year of high school. I need the kind of hands-on experience that graduate school provides. I need to learn how to get out there into the community to interview people and collect the information necessary to create a breaking story. In addition, I must learn about journalism ethics to ensure that my work meets today's highest professional standards. Although my undergraduate courses taught me how to think analytically and with a critical eye, I still have yet to learn the actual craft of journalism.
I applied to the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism in the midst of writing two theses, taking my final exams, and choreographing for Orchesis. I prepared myself for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that I had received a place on the waiting list. Now that I have completed my undergraduate work, I must spend my summer hoping for the best while enduring the tedium of waiting and the anxiety of checking my mail.
Although the July after college is a time of uncertainty, I am certain of one thing. Regardless of Columbia's decision, I will eventually become a journalist, so remember my name.
To the class of 2006, congratulations and best of luck in all your endeavors!