However, a friend cautioned me not to put all my eggs in one basket and suggested two other top Communication schools I should try for. So I applied to NYU Steinhardt, Georgetown University, and Boston University and, low and behold, I got into all three. When decision time came around I hesitated. Shouldn’t I just check out these other schools before dismissing them off the bat? I mean I did take the time to apply and pay for the pleasure of it. So, when I got back from Spain I set off on a graduate pilgrimage.

My life changing decision

Overall, I loved them all, which made my decision even harder. I saw a metaphorical, yet all too real, crossroad ahead of me. Whatever school I choose would lead me down a specific path that would be hard to deviate from. Georgetown had a beautiful campus (think Harry Potter – I’m still waiting for my letter). The classes sounded extremely interesting and the professors were all big players in their respective fields. However, they were too politically oriented for my test as well as mainly theoretical.

NYU, my love, was, unfortunately, mainly theoretical as well. It was ridiculously (yes ridiculously) interesting and married closely to my undergraduate degree in anthropology (which is not the study of ants, people). However, it was just too academically focused. I knew if I went there I would be following a path that would inevitably lead to a faculty position at a university – which was the main reason I had decided not to continue my studies in anthropology. Also, though the people at the actual college were nice and helpful during open house, the admission people were a little off putting and I got the feeling that they didn’t really care if I attended or not.

BU, quite frankly, surprised me. One of the main reasons I never really considered BU was because of its close proximity to my hometown. I wanted to get out of Massachusetts, badly. I had been extremely pleased with BU’s admission process – I actually felt like they cared that I was interested in their school. However, I wasn’t really expecting their open house to affect my decision. I had, at that moment, decided to send in my deposit to NYU and was just going at the behest of my family. BU, however, seemed to know exactly what I needed.

Several keywords were emphasized throughout the event – practical experience, alumni network, support, bacon wrapped bread (truth). The professors were affable and the admission staff downright charming. During the breakout sessions the professors in my program, Communication Studies, were honest and encouraging. They made sure I knew what type of program I would be getting into – a practically oriented one. This was also the only open house that took 30 minutes to discuss, without prompt, how I could possibly afford the program.

After another week of hemming and hawing I sent in my deposit, to BU. For me, someone looking for a program that would help jump-start my career in Communication, this was the best and obvious choice. I have not regretted it since.

So squeezable

BU separated themselves by being personable from the very beginning.

When I was searching for journalism graduate programs, I sent out a handful of emails requesting information about the schools, the application process, and any other details that I may need to know. For the most part the schools I contacted replied back, but only BU answered each of my questions individually. It was a pretty small gesture, but for a nervous 27 year old who wasn’t even sure applying to grad school was the right move in the first place, it was much appreciated.

This level of one-on-one communication continued throughout the entire application process. From the consistent email updates, to the stress ball BU sent me as the application deadline approached, to the thank you letter they sent me once my application was completed, I felt like BU made a real attempt to connect with me. This connection continued once I was accepted. The accepted students dinner in San Francisco really meant a lot to me, as I was able to meet with a handful of current students as well as the Assistant Dean. I didn’t know what to expect sitting down for dinner with a group of folks from a graduate school, but very consistent with the entire process with BU, they were all incredibly nice. We chatted for a few hours, and when I walked out of the restaurant I was going to BU.

I’ve been here for 6 months now, and I am proud to say that BU is my home.

Rucker.  Rucker is the boss.  In case you missed that earlier.

I get really frustrated whenever somebody stops me and says, “You know, you’ll learn more from teaching than you ever will sitting in a classroom.”  Please.  The only reason I took this job is so that I could make sure to teach them all the wrong things to weed out competition in my coming days as a professional screenwriter.  However, it seems to be a trend that I’m picking up on lessons that I thought I’d learned myself.  I’m reminding them to do the things I forget to do.

Figure out what your story is.  Put your main character on the ropes.  What are you trying to say?  Take no prisoners.  By the way, who is your main character?

One of the things I really love about Boston University is this chance that I get to teach.  I bragged to my mentor before I left that I’d totally be leading a class by my second year.  I didn’t really expect to get the chance, but here I am.  There’s something really special about standing in front of those kids every week, knowing that I have the chance to share something that I really enjoy.  I even wrote “Don’t write crap.” on the board at the beginning of the semester.  I enjoy teaching about positive and negative charges and plants and payoffs, but what I really love is writing pseudo-swears on the board.

But really, that’s what teaching and writing is for me.  On the first day, I had them write a simple list of ten things that moved them.  Every response I gave was catered, but essentially the same: “Now that you’ve know what moves you, you’ll be able to move your audience.”  Sure, it was a lot harder than pounding into their heads, “Write what you love.  Write what you love.  Write what you love.”  (I still did that, but I also did this, so the bad teaching and good teaching evens out.  That’s how it works, right?)

But ever since I taught that lesson on the first day, my writing’s gotten better.  I’m thinking more about the messages I’m trying to convey, and they’re coming out clearer.  I’m remembering to put my main character on the ropes.  I’m acid testing my work, figuring out what’s essential in the story, just like I’m trying to remind Max and Navzad and Shari to do.

So, yeah.  There it is.  Learning through teaching.  I’m pretty sure that’s what that Robert Fulghum book was talking about, but I heard it was actually about his time in prison.  You didn’t hear it from me.