Thinking About Grad School*? Don’t Go!

*That is, if you are thinking about entering a Ph.D. program in the humanities. 

by Ella Dean* ‘00  (*Ella Dean is the author’s pen name)

Let me start by saying that if I had read this piece, over a decade ago, I would not have been convinced. In my naïve arrogance, I would have thought “But I’m better than her. I can do it.” And I would have been totally convinced of my superiority, my specialness, my intelligence. After all, wasn’t I Phi Beta Kappa at Wellesley? Hadn’t I written an Honors Thesis? Hadn’t a brilliant Wellesley professor told me, after reading said thesis, that I had to go to grad school because I was such an insightful, incisive writer? I was not unsupported in my delusion that I was special.

So for all of you special, brilliant women, please read my cautionary tale with empathy. I don’t want to be a cautionary tale—in fact, I hate it—but I would like someone, somewhere to learn from my mistakes. And going to grad school was probably the biggest mistake I made in my twenties—hell, in my life (in contrast, going to Wellesley was probably the best decision I made.)

I decided to go to grad school because I was bored on the job (working at a nonprofit, trying to make the world a better place) and because I missed school. I missed the intellectual conversations, the sense of working toward something, even the way time was organized at school. I missed the sense of community. I missed my brilliant Wellesley sisters. And I missed having my brilliance validated on a daily basis.

I applied and was accepted at multiple schools. Not only was I accepted, but also, at two schools, I was offered the top fellowship. Not the top fellowship for my department. No, the top fellowship for the entire graduate school, offered only to one or two very special students in the entire entering class. I went to the top school for my degree and got the top fellowship to support myself. How could I not feel validated in my choice to go to grad school?

Grad school was, in short, a grind. I worked really, really hard. I made a couple of good friends. But, compared to Wellesley, it sucked. It didn’t have the community (most people were older and/or had families) and frankly, I had better conversations with my Wellesley friends than I had in classes at grad school. I dreamt of Wellesley almost every night for two years. I missed it.

But I made the best of it and applied myself. I excelled in my coursework (ask any of my professors), I presented at multiple national conferences, I published several articles, including one in a peer-reviewed journal. I finished my Ph.D. in six years (that’s really good. Many people take 8-10 years to finish.) I did everything “right.”

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Thanks for the amazing day yesterday.

I missed hanging out with them.