Trying to Find a Way Around the Graduate School Paradox
Creative nonfiction essay by Courtney Clute
A year ago, on Superbowl Sunday, as I greased my fingers with wing sauce and chatted with my relatives, I received a notification on my phone. It was an email from the University of South Florida Creative Writing Graduate Director. She was writing to inform me that I was accepted into the school’s MFA program. I wiped my fingers on a napkin and called all of my closest friends to tell them the news.
Six months later, it was 8:00 a.m. and the first day of the graduate teaching assistantship orientation for First Year Composition. I met my cohort, completed one of those cheesy “get to know each other” bingo games, and started orientation. I soon learned from my GTA mentor that the first semester is “always going to be the hardest semester of grad school.” I was not prepared for this news. Prior to hearing this, I understood grad school was challenging. But why was the first semester going to be so hard? Was I ready for it?
A few weeks later, my teaching assignment and grad classes began, and I was fully immersed in what I thought was going to be the hardest semester of my graduate career. I now knew what my GTA mentor meant. I was faced with the Graduate School Paradox: the seemingly unanswerable question on how to balance and handle my coursework, teaching responsibilities, personal writing time, a social life, time to spend with family, staying healthy, and remaining sane all at the same time. I kept hoping Nickelodeon would magically decide they needed to revive a graduate school version of Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide. They didn’t, of course. But instead, I found my own version of Ned through my program mentor.
Sitting eagerly in her office, trying to keep still on her swivel chair, my mentor imparted all of her time management tips and tricks as I tried to furiously scribble it all down before I forgot. From there, I applied what was useful and learned what worked for me. I tried online time management devices, such as Trello, and to-do lists before landing on a daily task managing notebook from Amazon. This notebook was the savior I didn’t know I needed. It was the backbone to my life, the structure that my jumbled brain thirsted for. I started to ease out of my unhealthy stress management habits.
As I fell into the rhythm of daily checklists, I felt as if I had a better handle on my teaching and coursework. But one thing still festered, making my chest tight with stress: how could I still have fun?
About a month into graduate school, my family invited me on a weekend trip to Atlanta. I was hesitant to accept the offer, for I wasn’t sure how I could do all of my work and spend a whole weekend with them. But I learned to make it work. That’s what I’ve learned so far: I have to learn how to make things work. So, on the Saturday when my family was out shopping and at a comic convention, I stayed at the hotel and did work. However, on Sunday, I let myself have fun. I went to the Georgia Aquarium, met up with an old friend, and went to dinner with my family. That night, I completed some more work. I learned that in order to survive grad school, I needed to sacrifice some fun time. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun at all.
Now into my second semester of my three-year MFA program, I feel as if I may not have the answer to the riddle that is the Graduate School Paradox, but I think I’m closer to solving it. Every week, I learn more about balance and splitting my time between my workload and fun, even if the fun is just taking a break to watch a thirty-minute episode of The Office. It’s important for me to get things done, but that doesn’t mean I can’t devote time to myself. It’s okay to say, “no” but it’s also okay to say, “yes.”
Six months later, it was 8:00 a.m. and the first day of the graduate teaching assistantship orientation for First Year Composition. I met my cohort, completed one of those cheesy “get to know each other” bingo games, and started orientation. I soon learned from my GTA mentor that the first semester is “always going to be the hardest semester of grad school.” I was not prepared for this news. Prior to hearing this, I understood grad school was challenging. But why was the first semester going to be so hard? Was I ready for it?
A few weeks later, my teaching assignment and grad classes began, and I was fully immersed in what I thought was going to be the hardest semester of my graduate career. I now knew what my GTA mentor meant. I was faced with the Graduate School Paradox: the seemingly unanswerable question on how to balance and handle my coursework, teaching responsibilities, personal writing time, a social life, time to spend with family, staying healthy, and remaining sane all at the same time. I kept hoping Nickelodeon would magically decide they needed to revive a graduate school version of Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide. They didn’t, of course. But instead, I found my own version of Ned through my program mentor.
Sitting eagerly in her office, trying to keep still on her swivel chair, my mentor imparted all of her time management tips and tricks as I tried to furiously scribble it all down before I forgot. From there, I applied what was useful and learned what worked for me. I tried online time management devices, such as Trello, and to-do lists before landing on a daily task managing notebook from Amazon. This notebook was the savior I didn’t know I needed. It was the backbone to my life, the structure that my jumbled brain thirsted for. I started to ease out of my unhealthy stress management habits.
As I fell into the rhythm of daily checklists, I felt as if I had a better handle on my teaching and coursework. But one thing still festered, making my chest tight with stress: how could I still have fun?
About a month into graduate school, my family invited me on a weekend trip to Atlanta. I was hesitant to accept the offer, for I wasn’t sure how I could do all of my work and spend a whole weekend with them. But I learned to make it work. That’s what I’ve learned so far: I have to learn how to make things work. So, on the Saturday when my family was out shopping and at a comic convention, I stayed at the hotel and did work. However, on Sunday, I let myself have fun. I went to the Georgia Aquarium, met up with an old friend, and went to dinner with my family. That night, I completed some more work. I learned that in order to survive grad school, I needed to sacrifice some fun time. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun at all.
Now into my second semester of my three-year MFA program, I feel as if I may not have the answer to the riddle that is the Graduate School Paradox, but I think I’m closer to solving it. Every week, I learn more about balance and splitting my time between my workload and fun, even if the fun is just taking a break to watch a thirty-minute episode of The Office. It’s important for me to get things done, but that doesn’t mean I can’t devote time to myself. It’s okay to say, “no” but it’s also okay to say, “yes.”
About the writer
Courtney Clute is an MFA fiction candidate at the University of South Florida in Tampa, FL. She is originally from Orlando. Courtney is currently experimenting with flash fiction and prose poetry, and her work is often centered on feminine identity and social expectations of women. Following the completion of her degree, Courtney intends to pursue a career in publishing.
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