SCHOOL
AIN’T A IT FUN
Written by Erin White Illustrations by Jamel Jones pplying to graduate school is a lot like falling in love. Platonic, I said. Don’t get too carried away, I said. Business casual, in and out as quick as possible. My words as futile now as they are halfway through an $11 pint of Jeni’s Ice Cream. At first, my infatuation with the red brick of Northeastern institutions of higher learning was bound up in the ferocious need to argue with the brightest Ph.D. candidates in the country about logical precision and, of course, to further inflate my self-sustaining ego. Clicking through Ivy League websites and filling out $90 applications gave me a sense of pride by association. I looked on Etsy for vintage university sweaters to wear this fall. When I ran out of ideas for the 20-page writing sample, I fantasized about updating the “education” section of my Facebook and instagramming acceptance letters — #startedfromthebottom.
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