Notes from a first semester, written during the second

I went back to school last fall, in a CUNY graduate program, after four years of working. A few things I got wrong, for anyone considering the same.

I thought the hard part would be the reading. The hard part was the calendar. Working people are used to other people setting their deadlines. In a graduate program you set most of them yourself, and the ones you do not set arrive in clusters.

I thought I would keep my old routines. I kept about half. The run survived. The Sunday call home survived, because my father treats it like a lab period and takes attendance. The long dinners did not, at least not on weeknights.

I thought group projects would be the worst part. They were the best. Everyone in the room has worked somewhere, and the arguments are better for it.

I thought I would know what I wanted to do after. I do not, exactly. I know I want to build things people use at work, and I know I want to do it in a room with people who argue well. That narrows it more than it sounds.

One more semester. Then we will see.