I've been softly avoiding giving out application advice. People interested in my own insane journey through the bowels of the admissions system are advised to go back through the 2009 posts. That said, in a recent conversation with a grad school applicant I came up with three questions that are worthwhile for determining which schools to apply to. Obviously there are an infinite number of questions to ask, but these three are a good place to start.
1) Would I actually move to the place where the school is located?
I flat-out ruled out some schools in places I didn't want to live. If you can't see yourself packing up and moving to New York City, why even apply to schools there? Location is more important to some than others, but do your research on the place, because you will occasionally leave campus. Think about where you'd be willing to move ahead of time.
A lot of applicants treat grad school admissions like undergraduate admissions -- send out a bunch of apps, then go on the prospective student visit and make a decision on the location. Bad plan! Don't waste money on applications for schools you'd never in a million years go to.
2) Is there someone, or multiple someones, to work with at the school?
Online faculty profiles are your friend. Email and phone contact with professors is even better. Sometimes faculty will be interested int the project but simply can't take on new students: they are going on leave, they have 82 students already, there's no room for a new student on the grant, etc. Find out this information before you apply.
My experience is that 95% of professors aren't bothered by a short, polite email inquiring about their graduate advising availability. So long as you aren't spamming them, this won't stymie your application in any way, and in some fields it can radically boost your admissions chances. If there's no professors around to take on your project, most schools won't admit you because there's no advising structure in place for you. Anticipate and take action to prevent this.
3) Is the program what I need, both in the next few years and for my career?
In this insane world of 12% acceptance rates, I understand the desire to gain acceptance to any program and enroll faster than you can say "is there funding?". That's because the regret of attending a school that doesn't have a solid program for your needs comes much later, like 4 years down the road when you realize your department specializes in research and you really want to teach. Whoopses!
This is 100% preventable. Do your research. Ask about placement. Ask about how the program works. Try to talk to graduate students there. If nothing they are saying appeals to you, don't apply.
The end result is this: if you only apply to schools you'd actually go to and do well at, you really only need the one acceptance to be on your way. The only general advice I can give is to try to remain sane long enough to figure out the answers to these questions. Don't worry, I'll have lots of advice on how to make the months pass as you're waiting to hear back!
Showing posts with label application advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label application advice. Show all posts
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Application Advice?
Someone asked me why I haven't posted any application advice, since apparently 'tis the season. Being the first fall in quite some time that I haven't personally been freaking out over 12-page biographical sketches, financial information, and listing 8-10 lifelong goals, I have not spent much time thinking about applications. But I'll come up with some good stuff in the next week or so. Side note: I'm always willing to pass along information, but it isn't like I'm an expert or anything. I'm not about to start an advice column to answer such questions as, "OMG I uploaded my app to Columbia on the Brown website what do I do now?!?!?!". It would almost certainly end in disaster for both the adviser and the advisee.
In the meantime, my advice is: don't spend all day looking at this here website full of cute cats or by the end of the day you'll be feeling like...
this:
In the meantime, my advice is: don't spend all day looking at this here website full of cute cats or by the end of the day you'll be feeling like...
this:
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Life Beyond Ding Dong Day
As most of you know, and many of you have obsessed over, April 15 is the deadline for responding to offers of admission. However, the story is far from over on April 15. Despite the increased waitlist activity and rapid-fire notifications that happen after the dreaded date, it is almost impossible to put that aside when you're waiting for offers to come in. Instead, you panic.
I handled my wait in a poor way: by hoarding and then eating tons of Ding Dongs. Even worse, I did this twice, once during my round of MA applications and then again for the PhD session. I cleared out the store's selection of Hostess snacks, then stacked the Ding Dong boxes in every available cabinet and moped around, talking about how when April 15 rolled around it would be Ding Dong Day and I could be released upon my processed treats like the Kraken.
So far I have only found one remedy for this sorry state of affairs, and that is "friends with a good sense of humor". My roommate once wrestled a Ding Dong out of my hands when I tried to eat one early in a fit of insanity. She also forced me to leave the apartment one day, took me to a park, and made me swing on a swingset until the wave of anxiety passed. She also, as you may recall, brought home a children's book about baby animals, which was both cute and the only thing I was capable of reading at the time. I remain grateful because even though I clearly needed an intervention, I wasn't aware of the depth of my obsession until I took a meaningful break to enjoy fresh air and look at adorable baby seals instead of my empty email inbox.
People, if you have a friend who has melted away during the application process, fear not. They can be brought back from the edge with a little concern and creativity. You might need to take initiative. Now is not the time to break out Schindler's List for a marathon evening of depression. Plan fun things and express support. Children's activities seem to work especially well: paint by numbers, play-doh, and jungle gyms were all things I enjoyed around Ding Dong Day.
And people who are waiting: take off the sweatpants, leave your house, stop sitting outside waiting for the mailman, and stop refreshing the page. For goodness sake, get off GradCafe. Two years in a row I missed early spring because I was reloading my email over and over. Learn from my mistakes.
Also, back away from the Ding Dongs.
I handled my wait in a poor way: by hoarding and then eating tons of Ding Dongs. Even worse, I did this twice, once during my round of MA applications and then again for the PhD session. I cleared out the store's selection of Hostess snacks, then stacked the Ding Dong boxes in every available cabinet and moped around, talking about how when April 15 rolled around it would be Ding Dong Day and I could be released upon my processed treats like the Kraken.
So far I have only found one remedy for this sorry state of affairs, and that is "friends with a good sense of humor". My roommate once wrestled a Ding Dong out of my hands when I tried to eat one early in a fit of insanity. She also forced me to leave the apartment one day, took me to a park, and made me swing on a swingset until the wave of anxiety passed. She also, as you may recall, brought home a children's book about baby animals, which was both cute and the only thing I was capable of reading at the time. I remain grateful because even though I clearly needed an intervention, I wasn't aware of the depth of my obsession until I took a meaningful break to enjoy fresh air and look at adorable baby seals instead of my empty email inbox.
People, if you have a friend who has melted away during the application process, fear not. They can be brought back from the edge with a little concern and creativity. You might need to take initiative. Now is not the time to break out Schindler's List for a marathon evening of depression. Plan fun things and express support. Children's activities seem to work especially well: paint by numbers, play-doh, and jungle gyms were all things I enjoyed around Ding Dong Day.
And people who are waiting: take off the sweatpants, leave your house, stop sitting outside waiting for the mailman, and stop refreshing the page. For goodness sake, get off GradCafe. Two years in a row I missed early spring because I was reloading my email over and over. Learn from my mistakes.
Also, back away from the Ding Dongs.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Grad School: A Glossary
Every so often, a non-academic reader (I have those!!!) will ask me what the heck I am talking about as I spew some alphabet soup sentence like, "OMG I can't believe what that ABD said to the DGS". Fair enough. Here are some basic terms and my take on all of them.
ABD: all-but-dissertation. No more classes, just writing. Major academic milestone, akin to learning to crawl.
AdComm: Admissions Committee, usually some assortment of faculty that read through the application files and ultimately decide your future.
CGS: Council of Graduate Schools. Most relevant is their membership list and their resolution, which stipulates that applicants have until April 15th to decide on their offers. Non-CGS members do love exploding offers. Stand back.
Comps: Comprehensive Exams, also qualifying exams or quals. Involves reading, writing about and talking about hundreds of books. Something of a hazing ritual, it quantifies your life.
DGS: Director of Graduate Studies, i.e. Grad Director. A faculty member saddled with the administrative responsibility of keeping us students from falling off the academic wagon.
Diss.: no, not an insult, but rather a dissertation. Can also be a verb, 'to diss' or 'to dissertate'.
Funding: Money. The dough. Cash. Moo-lah. Comes in full, partial, or nonexistent varieties.
Grad Coordinator: A wonderful human being employed in the department office who will help you run your grad student life. Bring them cookies and never make them angry.
LOR: Letter of recommendation. I blathered on at length about these sometime in February.
SOP: Statement of purpose. Describes in some detail why you and your project are awesome. More on this later.
As Kristina once said, we grad students speak our own language, but fear not, readers who have real lives: while true fluency requires enrollment in the program of your choice, real-worlders can definitely become conversational in Ivory Towerish.
ABD: all-but-dissertation. No more classes, just writing. Major academic milestone, akin to learning to crawl.
AdComm: Admissions Committee, usually some assortment of faculty that read through the application files and ultimately decide your future.
CGS: Council of Graduate Schools. Most relevant is their membership list and their resolution, which stipulates that applicants have until April 15th to decide on their offers. Non-CGS members do love exploding offers. Stand back.
Comps: Comprehensive Exams, also qualifying exams or quals. Involves reading, writing about and talking about hundreds of books. Something of a hazing ritual, it quantifies your life.
DGS: Director of Graduate Studies, i.e. Grad Director. A faculty member saddled with the administrative responsibility of keeping us students from falling off the academic wagon.
Diss.: no, not an insult, but rather a dissertation. Can also be a verb, 'to diss' or 'to dissertate'.
Funding: Money. The dough. Cash. Moo-lah. Comes in full, partial, or nonexistent varieties.
Grad Coordinator: A wonderful human being employed in the department office who will help you run your grad student life. Bring them cookies and never make them angry.
LOR: Letter of recommendation. I blathered on at length about these sometime in February.
SOP: Statement of purpose. Describes in some detail why you and your project are awesome. More on this later.
As Kristina once said, we grad students speak our own language, but fear not, readers who have real lives: while true fluency requires enrollment in the program of your choice, real-worlders can definitely become conversational in Ivory Towerish.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Will Study for Food
My graduate school applicant comrade David and I have been engaging in a series of conversations about the impact of the economy of grad school admissions. These exchanges begin as highly scholastic and evidenced debates (we even cite The Chronicle!) and quickly descend into panicked madness and wild speculation (much like our theses). In true form to our personalities, David believes that while a concern, the economy isn't bound to doom our dreams, while I am preparing for the graduate school admissions apocalypse by stockpiling Bernard Bailyn books and Ramen noodles.
To help you decide whether to roll with the punches or begin constructing a bomb shelter for your books, an excerpt of our recent thoughts.
David: Everyone's been saying there will be so many more applicants, but I don't know if that's really possible.
Me: You don't see how it is possible that thousands of unemployed people with no prospects want to go back to school?
D: It's not that, it's that they can't all be qualified. You can't learn a language overnight, you can't write a good SOP [statement of purpose] overnight, you can't just get a good writing sample or good LORs [letters of recommendation]...
Me: True.
D: Those people won't make it through the first round.
Me: But what about all the people who are qualified, but would have preferred jobs if they were available? All of those people might be in the applicant pool, but wouldn't have been before.
D: Yeah that is a problem.
Me: Also keep in mind that there are fewer slots. Even if the applicant pool hasn't increased dramatically the competition has. Fewer students = cheaper.
D: Won't schools just switch their funding structures instead of guaranteeing multi-year packages though?
Me: That does not help US, man!!! You better recognize!
D: I'll bet there will be a discrepancy between private and public schools. State schools are having a lot of trouble because of budget release delays.
Me: I'll bet that's what all those Brandeis applicants thought. Until Bernie Madoff stole their art museum and Deis went for broke!
D: Crap.
Me: There might only be one funny thing about this death cloud of an economy.
D: What?
Me: This.
Crap indeed, David. Now we need a bailout. Maybe we'll even get bonuses!
To help you decide whether to roll with the punches or begin constructing a bomb shelter for your books, an excerpt of our recent thoughts.
David: Everyone's been saying there will be so many more applicants, but I don't know if that's really possible.
Me: You don't see how it is possible that thousands of unemployed people with no prospects want to go back to school?
D: It's not that, it's that they can't all be qualified. You can't learn a language overnight, you can't write a good SOP [statement of purpose] overnight, you can't just get a good writing sample or good LORs [letters of recommendation]...
Me: True.
D: Those people won't make it through the first round.
Me: But what about all the people who are qualified, but would have preferred jobs if they were available? All of those people might be in the applicant pool, but wouldn't have been before.
D: Yeah that is a problem.
Me: Also keep in mind that there are fewer slots. Even if the applicant pool hasn't increased dramatically the competition has. Fewer students = cheaper.
D: Won't schools just switch their funding structures instead of guaranteeing multi-year packages though?
Me: That does not help US, man!!! You better recognize!
D: I'll bet there will be a discrepancy between private and public schools. State schools are having a lot of trouble because of budget release delays.
Me: I'll bet that's what all those Brandeis applicants thought. Until Bernie Madoff stole their art museum and Deis went for broke!
D: Crap.
Me: There might only be one funny thing about this death cloud of an economy.
D: What?
Me: This.
Crap indeed, David. Now we need a bailout. Maybe we'll even get bonuses!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A Tang Thang
There is something about the graduate school admissions process that resembles the state of nature. I'm not even talking Hobbes/Locke/Rousseau here -- though by all means nasty and brutish, the admissions game is by no means short, and reason most definitely does not govern it. I mean the state of nature which preceded such "natural precepts" as striving for peace in favor of the natural precept "I want that banana, so gimme it or I will end you", where a funded acceptance might serve as the proverbial plantain.
Let us examine the following possible scenarios of the process. In honor of fellow crazed student Maggie's impending birthday, I have solicited the help of her favorites, the orangutans (afterward Tang), to provide a visual component to this study.
There are four general outcomes to the process, with each having several substages. If I can get a social scientist to diagram that for me later, we can explore those further. For now, we'll stick to the main categories: Acceptance, Waitlist, Rejection, and Nuttin'.
The good news first! Acceptance!
In the state of nature it resembles this:
Go, you! You're in! You are on your way to the highest tree in the forest, the ivory tower of nature, if you will. You might as well go beserk from the treetops and let everybody know: you are going to be Dr. Tang!
Less immediately enthralling is the Waitlist...
Which looks, both in the state of nature and in whatever state you reside in, like this:
Sad Tang. You are ranked somewhere between first alternate and eightieth. The admissions committee may or may not tell you this information. It is also possible that they may be lying to you. About everything. Adding to your misery is the fact that the goddang Accepted Tang is swinging about the jungle, throwing nuts and berries all over the place, and you just wish his vine would break already.
Still, it could be worse.
It could be Rejection.
I need no words. Big Aman here is taking care of it.
A lot of programs receive 200-plus applications for about 10 slots. That means each program produces at least 190 Big Amans annually between January and April. Multiply 190 and the hundreds and hundreds of programs, and add in Yale which rejects roughly a gajillion people per annum, for the total number of rejected applicants in the Big Aman army. The result is terrifying.
So it isn't really a wonder why the Adcoms like to play their Wild Card: Total Lack of Information!
No, Sad Eyes and Pouty Lip won't make the DGS return your calls, answer your emails, update the status website, or otherwise acknowledge you as a human/primate/whatever being. It is better for them if you exist in a state of anxiety, constantly refreshing the webpage and hitting redial, than for them to give any concrete information that might result in them a) having to prepare the campus for the giddy swingers, b) having to deal with Eternal Waitlistees, or c) facing their Big Amans.
It remains unclear if the graduate school itself is a civil society. I will report more on this in the future. In the meantime, I will give a shoutout to Wildcat U, which has ensured that this blog can exist for the next 5-15 years. ::throws nuts and berries::
Let us examine the following possible scenarios of the process. In honor of fellow crazed student Maggie's impending birthday, I have solicited the help of her favorites, the orangutans (afterward Tang), to provide a visual component to this study.
There are four general outcomes to the process, with each having several substages. If I can get a social scientist to diagram that for me later, we can explore those further. For now, we'll stick to the main categories: Acceptance, Waitlist, Rejection, and Nuttin'.
The good news first! Acceptance!
In the state of nature it resembles this:
Go, you! You're in! You are on your way to the highest tree in the forest, the ivory tower of nature, if you will. You might as well go beserk from the treetops and let everybody know: you are going to be Dr. Tang!
Less immediately enthralling is the Waitlist...
Which looks, both in the state of nature and in whatever state you reside in, like this:
Sad Tang. You are ranked somewhere between first alternate and eightieth. The admissions committee may or may not tell you this information. It is also possible that they may be lying to you. About everything. Adding to your misery is the fact that the goddang Accepted Tang is swinging about the jungle, throwing nuts and berries all over the place, and you just wish his vine would break already.
Still, it could be worse.
It could be Rejection.
I need no words. Big Aman here is taking care of it.
A lot of programs receive 200-plus applications for about 10 slots. That means each program produces at least 190 Big Amans annually between January and April. Multiply 190 and the hundreds and hundreds of programs, and add in Yale which rejects roughly a gajillion people per annum, for the total number of rejected applicants in the Big Aman army. The result is terrifying.
So it isn't really a wonder why the Adcoms like to play their Wild Card: Total Lack of Information!
No, Sad Eyes and Pouty Lip won't make the DGS return your calls, answer your emails, update the status website, or otherwise acknowledge you as a human/primate/whatever being. It is better for them if you exist in a state of anxiety, constantly refreshing the webpage and hitting redial, than for them to give any concrete information that might result in them a) having to prepare the campus for the giddy swingers, b) having to deal with Eternal Waitlistees, or c) facing their Big Amans.
It remains unclear if the graduate school itself is a civil society. I will report more on this in the future. In the meantime, I will give a shoutout to Wildcat U, which has ensured that this blog can exist for the next 5-15 years. ::throws nuts and berries::
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Power of the Cute and Fuzzy
As the grad school notifications began to roll in this week, I found myself in a state of total anxiety. There are few things as nerve-wracking as "waiting for the postman to deliver your future", as an anonymous grad hopeful put it. After the first waitlist followed by a rejection, I turned to the only thing that would make me smile.
Freakin' cute animals.
I stumbled across Buddy by accident. Here he is:
Completely adorable, yes? He is like a hug on a webpage.
I then moved on to cover several more categories of wonderfully cute baby animals.
Little chickies:
Puppies:
Baby Wild Animals:
Barnyard Babies:
How wonderful! All of these photos came from the fantastic website www.babyanimalz.com, and many more photos await the panicky applicant. Seriously, you'd have to get rejected from approximately 195 programs to run out of photos to pacify you.
Just in case that does occur, my roommate discovered that the children's section of the library holds a ridiculous number of books devoted to baby animals, the purpose of which is likely split between second graders doing reports on baby monkeys and parents getting sick and tired of reading Seuss every night. Ark selected "Harp Seal Pups" by Downs Matthews (Simon and Schuster, 1997), to calm me down. The book now resides on the bottom shelf of my nightstand, and it is a highly effective relaxation tool. I'm probably going to have her renew it...sorry, 7-10 year-olds this book is actually intended for.
Freakin' cute animals.
I stumbled across Buddy by accident. Here he is:
Completely adorable, yes? He is like a hug on a webpage.
I then moved on to cover several more categories of wonderfully cute baby animals.
Little chickies:
Puppies:
Baby Wild Animals:
Barnyard Babies:
How wonderful! All of these photos came from the fantastic website www.babyanimalz.com, and many more photos await the panicky applicant. Seriously, you'd have to get rejected from approximately 195 programs to run out of photos to pacify you.
Just in case that does occur, my roommate discovered that the children's section of the library holds a ridiculous number of books devoted to baby animals, the purpose of which is likely split between second graders doing reports on baby monkeys and parents getting sick and tired of reading Seuss every night. Ark selected "Harp Seal Pups" by Downs Matthews (Simon and Schuster, 1997), to calm me down. The book now resides on the bottom shelf of my nightstand, and it is a highly effective relaxation tool. I'm probably going to have her renew it...sorry, 7-10 year-olds this book is actually intended for.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Not Recommended
Every so often I suppose I should actually drop some helpful information in here. For those contemplating the application process, please enjoy an outline of the many months it took to procure recommendations, and plan accordingly.
August: Bliss.
Mood: Blissful.
September: Decided to apply to graduate school. Freaked out that I didn’t have enough professors to write letters. Flooded any and all office hours.
Mood: Manic
October: Began scoping out referees. Had long conversations about my field, interests, background, career plans, etc. Got so good at this that I could repeat all relevant information in under 4 minutes. Formally requested letters. Made a pretty chart with all mailing addresses and deadlines to aid referees in their quest.
Mood: Shockingly Calm
November: One month from first deadlines. Hardcore old-school referee insisted on typing each letter on a typewriter; advised him to start soon. Online application program to upload recommendations crashed; spent hours emailing graduate coordinator for help. Referee misspelled my unspellable last name; spent hours emailing graduate coordinator to correct the problem. Found renewed appreciation for graduate coordinators.
Mood: A Little Nuts
December: Deadlines arrived. Everyone was sick with the flu. Referees waited until the Robitussin phase has passed to write letters (widely considered the correct move). Spent many hours being told that letters can arrive past the deadline without believing it.
Mood: Inconsolable
January: Compulsively checked application status websites. Recommendations were missing. Tracked down referees in a state of panic, new letters were sent. [Note: This will always happen on a weekend when there is no one to talk to at the prospective department.]
Mood: Utterly Impatient
One day I’ll have the time to sit around and ponder what those letters of recommendation actually entail. But now I’m too busy reloading these admission status pages.
August: Bliss.
Mood: Blissful.
September: Decided to apply to graduate school. Freaked out that I didn’t have enough professors to write letters. Flooded any and all office hours.
Mood: Manic
October: Began scoping out referees. Had long conversations about my field, interests, background, career plans, etc. Got so good at this that I could repeat all relevant information in under 4 minutes. Formally requested letters. Made a pretty chart with all mailing addresses and deadlines to aid referees in their quest.
Mood: Shockingly Calm
November: One month from first deadlines. Hardcore old-school referee insisted on typing each letter on a typewriter; advised him to start soon. Online application program to upload recommendations crashed; spent hours emailing graduate coordinator for help. Referee misspelled my unspellable last name; spent hours emailing graduate coordinator to correct the problem. Found renewed appreciation for graduate coordinators.
Mood: A Little Nuts
December: Deadlines arrived. Everyone was sick with the flu. Referees waited until the Robitussin phase has passed to write letters (widely considered the correct move). Spent many hours being told that letters can arrive past the deadline without believing it.
Mood: Inconsolable
January: Compulsively checked application status websites. Recommendations were missing. Tracked down referees in a state of panic, new letters were sent. [Note: This will always happen on a weekend when there is no one to talk to at the prospective department.]
Mood: Utterly Impatient
One day I’ll have the time to sit around and ponder what those letters of recommendation actually entail. But now I’m too busy reloading these admission status pages.
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