Christine's blog
Class of 2009, English and French Major, from Albuquerque, NM

The words escaped my mouth before I was able to stop them, “How did you like the environment at UW Madison? I mean, the learn—or rather the academic environment. Was—was it supportive? I mean, like….” I fell into silence. The plan had been to casually ask my professor about her graduate school experience. But instead, that was what I said.
She looked slightly taken aback by my sudden question. I clutched my notebook like a shield. I ought to have e-mailed her instead. What was I doing? She replied, carefully, “I liked going to grad school there, but I wouldn’t like to have been an undergraduate there.”
“I wasn’t thinking about transferring…I was thinking about grad school. Because I’m graduating next year and I have to be thinking about…that,” I finished lamely. It was not my worst approach, but it certainly wasn’t my best.
Smiling, she said, “Well, you should come around some time soon so that we can talk about it.”
I nodded, thanked her, and rushed out of her office.
First contact has been established.

I’m looking to go to graduate school, but my parents live in New Mexico and I am not really interested in studying there. (University of New Mexico does have a great Medieval Studies program, but I’m interested in Early American literature. So, the excellence of the Medievalist program doesn’t really help me.) Because I fulfill all of the requirements, I can become a resident of Wisconsin and receive in-state tuition. And in-state tuition to a university of UW Madison’s caliber would be amazing.
But before I even think of visiting, I wanted to speak with an alumnus (well, alumna), which resulted in the incredibly awkward exchange that I shared earlier in the post.

The only real problem, the only thing holding me back, is that I’m not sure that I want to be a professor for the rest of my life. I suppose this is where the logical side of me should take over and make time to speak with someone at Career Services. The procrastinating side of me notes that I have free time…in two weeks, after the Sigma Tau Delta conference.

Real life is lurking out there, just waiting for me to graduate. In one year from now, the real world will be inescapable.
I am sheltered, behind the picture of a dragon that my roommate drew on our window. As I type this, her classic rock is overpowering the satirical French television show that I’m watching. On the toolbar text to this document is a paper that needs to be revised for a class tomorrow. Exercises from the lower level French classes sit, uncorrected, on a chair next to my desk, which is over flowing with books and to-do lists. I rest my elbow on a text for my Gender and Culture class and wonder if I can exist outside of college. Since my first class at St. Norbert, when Professor Risden came striding in and recited the first lines of Beowulf in Old English, I have been convinced that I want to be a professor.

But, if I am realistic, fewer children are being born every year, which means that many professorial posts will simply cease to exist when their current occupants vacate them. Being what I am—white and female—does not exactly make me stand out in any of the fields that interest me. Still, I want to teach but not to children.
I haven’t really started thinking about what I will do if I don’t get into graduate school, or if graduate school doesn’t prove to be financially feasible.

So, I have worries, not that you hadn’t already apprehended that. If I really want to go to graduate school, I need to start studying for the Graduate Record Exams and to visit several universities. And if I want to postpone or change my mind completely, I should probably dust off my resume and find out what I’m good at.
Other than procrastinating and wielding the red pen of judgment.