From: Todd E Van Hoosear (vanhoose@manetheren.cl.msu.edu)
Date: Wed Mar 05 2003 - 18:40:08 EST
From: Todd E. Van Hoosear [mailto:vanhoose@cl-next4.cl.msu.edu]
Sent: Thursday, August 11, 1994 2:53 PM
To: engllm
Subject: Re: Attn: Grad Students in the Arts & Sciences
> -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Grad School Questionnaire
>
> NOTE: I understand that you may be offering information of a sensitive
> nature regarding your department/program, collegues/professors, and
> university administration. Respondents are assured of complete anonymity.
> No specific information provided by you (email i.d.; name; university;
> degree program and department; gender; age; race; nationality) will be
> used without your express written permission.
>
> Name: Todd E. Van Hoosear
> University: Michigan State University
> Degree program and department: MA, Communication
> Gender: M
> Age: 24
> Race: Caucasian (Irish/Dutch/German)
> Nationality: US
>
> 1) What do you wish someone had told you before you started grad school?
I wish someone would have said "be prepared for _not_ knowing what to do."
I expected my graduate career to be very disciplined, moreso at least than
my undergraduate life. Instead, I find myself constantly wondering what to
do next, where to go from here. I _know_ I have to finish (okay, _start_)
a thesis, but even with the help of my professors it's still up to me to
find my niche in our field. _That's_ the hardest part about graduate
school in the liberal arts.
> 2) Do you have any anecdotes (amusing/horrifying/embarrassing/enlightening)
> about your experiences as a grad student?
My horrifying (and humorous in hindsight) experience started as soon as I
returned to my university for grad school. I wrote a story about it. Here
it is, unedited. You have my permission to reproduce it and I'm not too
concerned about anonymity so you also have permission to use my name or
to edit the story to preserve my anonymity should you chose to publish it.
Keep in mind that I'm not usually the creative type. But I was _so_
frustrated with the situation that I _had_ to do something constructive
with my anger or I would have slipped into insanity very early in my
career. Ah yes, this was written in the fall of 1992.
The story you are about to read is real. No names have been changed to
protect the guilty.
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
Early one September morning, filled with anticipation of a new year in
school--the same school, but a different atmosphere--Todd woke up. It
was early (this is unusual), but he was too preoccupied to care about
the hour; he had other things on his mind: the imminent beginning of
grad school, the need to begin packing since he was supposed to leave
in the early afternoon, and the large pile of bills from credit card
companies that was about to fall off his desk due to the height of the
stack of envelopes.
--Well, okay, I have a lot of things to do today before I get up to
school. I guess I'll start with breakfast, and work my way down from
there.
He stretched, placed his feet on the floor, and stretched again, this
time picking out eye boogers in the process. He made his way upstairs
from his room in the basement. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table,
smoking and drinking coffee, her usual Breakfast of Champions.
Feeling a bit rebellious and not wanting to bother with the rigors of
preparing a bowl of cereal, he opened the fridge and found to his
delight a large piece of chocolate banana cake (his personal favorite),
which he promptly devoured. Finishing his glass of whole milk, he
smiled. The sugar was working. Filled with the newfound energies of
simple sugars, he went to the task in hand: packing for school. This
was, actually, a relatively simple feat, since his mother insists on
going through and bagging and boxing every single item in his
possession that she can get her hands on. Privacy was never highly
respected in this family, but it didn't matter, really. It did make
for some really interesting dinner conversations.
--Hmm, I guess I don't really need to bring my complete collection of
Uncle Scrooge comic books.
Packing went, as predicted, smoothly. In fact, it was no time before
he was on the road to East Lansing, home of Michigan State University,
his waiting dorm room, and the peace and quiet of residence hall life.
--Shit! I forgot my popcorn popper! ... my dress shoes! ... my
underwear!
Not bad. Only three items, unless you count the underwear more than
once. Getting off the expressway, he felt that same, warm feeling he
always gets when approaching MSU. It's probably because the air
conditioning broke and the wind has died down considerably. Turning
the corner onto campus, he remembered.
--Have to drive carefully, DPS* knows me by name.
He pulled into the parking lot for Owen Graduate Center, his home for
the next year. Remembering to put a quarter in the parking meter--he
knew the Neo-Nazi Hitler Youth Corps Parking Enforcers were in full
force this week, pulling in untold amounts of revenue from
unsuspecting parkers--he left his car and made his way to the front
desk, and told the woman at the desk that he would like to check in.
No problem, she told him, and asked him for his student number. He
read it off, having had committed it to memory four years ago. Umm,
she told him, do you know the last digit?
--That _was_ the last digit!
No, the university has added a digit, she politely told him. Do you
have your student ID card? she asked. He did, but it didn't have
this mysterious extra digit on it. Oh yes, she added, there's an
``A'' before your number now too.
--That's fine. Thank you. Now, can I get my room, or do I have to
go in search of this digit?
No, she replied, we can just look up your last name. Wondering why
she hadn't asked him that in the first place, Todd spelled out his
last name. She nodded, and after two spelling corrections, was able
to find his name. Good news! she exclaimed. You have a room! He
smiled politely, pondering the reason for the excitement behind her
discovery that, yes indeed, he _did_ have a room reserved in his
name, and yes, they _were_ actually able to find it. Putting that
aside, he successfully moved into his room.
--Okay, I'm almost comfortable now. Tomorrow, I enroll and register.
He really wasn't worried about registration. He had no real reason
to worry. Everything was computerized now. Getting his classes
meant simply a few keystrokes in front of a computer. So he slept
easily that first night, almost looking forward to tackling the new
project in the morning. Morning came, and with it went Todd to the
Computer Center. Sitting before the enrollment computer, Todd felt
at ease. He had worked with computers heavily in the past, and this
was no big deal. He typed his PIN (Personal Identification Number)
and his PAN (Personal Access Number) and almost immediately faced
his first big challenge of the year: a financial hold, the dreaded
note from the administration that says You stupid fool! You thought
you could get by us, didn't you! You owe us money and you must
paaaaayyyyy! Please go to Room 120 Administration Building and wait
in line for an hour, only to find out that you're in the wrong line,
and should be over there, in the two hour line that is, at present
moment, wrapping itself around the outside of the building.
--What the hell is this for? I paid everything last year. Oh, no!
It must be my Owen Hall cafeteria bill. I forgot about that. I
guess I _do_ still owe them.
It was nothing new, the financial holds line. After 3 hours, it was
taken care of; he could enroll for classes. He excitedly logged
back on to the enrollment computer, and began signing up for classes.
--I'd like, let's see, COM 801, and, hey, wait a minute, why am I
being denied this class? What's this? Level: Senior, Status:
Undergraduate!
The feeling he got at this point can only be described as the
feeling you get after putting the last bit of your change into a
vending machine, enter your selection, and suddenly watch as the
piece of candy _next_ to your desired selection--naturally the one
candy you detest the most--comes dropping out of the machine. This
was disturbing news,the undergraduate part, since he supposedly had
graduated at the end of his summer program in France. He naturally
called his department.
--Hi, this is Todd Van Hoosear, a new student in your Master's
program. Yes. Well, I'm having some difficulty enrolling. Well,
the computer thinks I'm still an undergraduate. Yes. Uh huh.
What? Excuse me? Are you telling me that I am not in and _cannot_
get into grad school until next term? But, I have an assistantship
and a room reserved! Why is this so? I see, because I have
incomplete grades from my three summer courses. I see. Yes, but,
_it's not my fault!_ No, it's the professor's. He hasn't turned in
the grades yet, obviously. Okay, I need to call the French
department. Fine, thanks.
He hung up the phone, grabbed his handy faculty/staff directory, and
looked for the French department's phone number. Logically, there
was absolutely no listing under ``French'', so he proceeded to look
through the entire book until, of course, he remembered that _any_
rational being would look under ``Romance and Classical Languages.''
He dialed. You should talk to the Registrar's office, he was told.
He called the Registrar's office. You must get this taken care of
with the French department. Until you get these incompletes taken
care of, the nice lady on the phone told him, you cannot be accepted
into the graduate program here.
--Fine, thank you very much. Let's see, what was that number, oh,
yes. Hello, yes, this is Todd calling again. Yes, I can hold,
but... Hello? Argh! Dum de dum... Tra la la... Yes... No, I've
already been helped, but... Hello? Argh! Dum de dum... Tra la
la... Yes. Yes, well, I had called earlier about some enrollment
problems, and... Yes, I _did_ speak with the Registrar's office,
and they told me that I needed to talk to you. Back to square one.
Yes. You're filling the forms out now. Good, can I come and walk
them over to the Administration Building? No, you don't think I'm
allowed to do that. Can you get them there anytime soon? Campus
mail. I see. Thank you.
He hung up. He had been on campus long enough to know a thing or two
about campus mail, and expediency was not one of their strong points.
After some calculations, he called the Registrar's office again, and
asked if there was any way he could walk the badly needed form over
to Administration Building. Of course, she told him. People do it
all the time.
--Could you please explain that to the French department?
He hung up and walked over to the French, sorry, the Romance and
Classical Languages department office, picked up his form, and walked
it to the Administration Building, a God-awful example of the
misguided architectural trends of the 1950s, and stood in the half-
hour line for the Registrar's office. At the head of the line, he was
told Oh, you didn't have to stand in line for that, we would have
helped you immediately. He smiled appreciatively (the thought was
there) and handed his papers over. Thirty minutes later, he was told
that everything was cleared, he was now a grad student.
--Gosh, isn't this nice. Maybe I'll get a diploma now. Naaah, I
probably owe the university more money by now.
But his greatest challenge was still ahead. Foolishly, he made his
way to IM West, the building where late registration was handled.
Registration, the process of paying for classes and room and board,
was classically held in the IM West building, a sports complex,
because it was the only building that could really handle 45 thousand
people trying to register at the same exact time. This archaic
method was abandoned this year, in favor of a more civilized mail
registration. Of course, if you enroll late, you don't get to enjoy
the luxuries provided by the post office. You must still stand in
line at registration. And, because there are supposedly more people
mail registering, they don't need as many employees to help the
students during registration. Okay, here's the catch: because of the
semester transition (this year we have changed from a quarter system
of four sessions per year to a semester system with two), no one got
processed properly this year. Therefore, a registration system
designed to handle a minimum number of people ended up processing the
44 thousand students who had _something_ screwed up by the university.
--It's 4:23. Plenty of time to make it to registration before they
close at 4:30. Whoa, what's this?
Todd stared at the closed doors that supported a small, emotionless
banner stating that registration was closed for the day. Not yet
defeated, he made his way to the exit of registration, and asked an
employee there why registration was closed. Because it closes at
4:15, the answer was.
--When did you change the closing time to 4:15?
It's always been 4:15, the smart-ass pimpled freshman jerk answered.
And, there's more bad news, he added. If you don't register by today,
you lose all your classes. The frustration, no, the anger, no, the
determination showed on Todd's face as he strangled the skinny first
year student.
--You can't do this to me. It's not fair. It's not my fault!
It's not my problem, was the gasped response of the pizza-faced
student employee. Todd turned around, dropping the puny bunyan-
breath frosh as he completed the motion. He left, somewhat
satisfied from a bit of gratuitous violence but still entirely
defeated. He would finish this tomorrow, surely. Sleep overtook
him. His alarm was especially loud the next morning.
--Bright and early. 7:00. I'll shower, eat quickly, and make my
way to IM West. No one else is going to be this energetic.
He was wrong, of course. Fortunately, the numbers had dwindled to
a reasonable 35 thousand people trying to register at the same time.
Then, he remembered.
--Shit, my classes, they're gone now! I have to re-enroll.
He left the line and ran to the Computer Center, logged on to the
enrollment computer, and was promptly told by the computer that he
had exceeded the maximum allowable number of logons per day.
--Well, that must make the limit one, since that's the number of
times I've tried to log on today.
He called the Registrar's office. Oh, yeah, the limit is four
times within 24 hours, he was informed. Luckily, he was able to
convince the person on the other end of the phone that it was
vitally important that he be able to enroll (fancy that). He ran
back to the computer, and found out that his classes _weren't_
deleted, and that he had just wasted a lot of time. He ran back to
the registration area, which, of course, was closing for lunch.
We'll be back open in one hour, he was told. Lunch for Todd
consisted of a quick trip to Burger King. By the time he returned
to registration, there was another line. He stuck it out, though,
only to find out at the end that: (a) his graduate assistantship (the
only source of income) wasn't processed, and (b) he was going to be
charged a $100 late fee, due to the incompetence of the university.
After he finished crying, he was able to walk back home, alone and
defeated again. After a few phone calls, he found out that he had to:
(a) find where his assistantship papers were, steal a copy, and
present them to the registrar along with (b) proof that the French,
sorry, Romance and Classical Languages department had indeed utterly
screwed him over.
--I'll do it tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, and things were straightened out. The RCL department
secretary was very helpful, and typed up a nice letter that pleaded
with the Registrar's office to not charge Todd the $100, and it worked.
And so, Todd officially graduated with his Bachelor of Arts almost one
week into his Master of Arts program. He was quite happy.
Now, things are going better for Todd. He's actually taking the
classes that he wants, and he's actually getting paid for his
assistantship (that's an entirely different story). Peace reigns once
more in the mind and heart of Todd Van Hoosear.
* DPS = Department of Public Safety, the university equivalent of the
Keystone Cops.
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
> 3) What made you decide to go to grad school? How soon after getting an
> undergrad degree did you apply?
I was told, three years into a communication/public relations degree that
I couldn't expect to make more than 20 thousand dollars per year. I
applied in my senior year of college.
> 4) How did you decide on your university? What research did you do?
Very little, actually. I knew that Michigan State (MSU) had the best
communication department in the nation (according to many), so I
decided to stay. I originally applied for the PhD program, but only
got accepted into the Master's program (thank God).
> 5) How did you study for the GRE general (and subject) tests? Were you
> happy with your scores?
I didn't study for the GRE. I did well enough to get me into grad. school,
although if I had done better I may have been able to go straight into
the PhD program.
> 6) What approach did you use for your admission essays (humor, hard sell
> of past accomplishments, proposed topic of study)?
It's hard to remember now.... I _think_ I tried the "perfect match"
essay. (You have scholars in these areas, and *surprise*, that's
what I'm interested it!)
> 7) Did you receive any kind of orientation at your university as a
> beginning grad student? Did it answer all of your questions?
My program did have an orientation, but I couldn't attend as I was out
of the country at the time.
> 8) Do you receive financial aid (what kind)? Did you apply through
> Graduate Office/Financial Aid/Department/Outside Sources?
Had I been accepted to the PhD program, the university would have
paid for most of my education through an assistantship within the
department. Since I was only accepted into the Master's program and
my department doesn't pay master's students, I had to look for funding
elsewhere. I found an assistantship with the computer laboratory here.
This has led to an interesting situation. I lead dual lives; half of
my time I'm working with computers and half of my time I'm studying
communication. The result of this combination has been a strong
desire to (a) get out of school (for a while at least--I still want
to eventually get my PhD) and (b) get a real job, prefarably in
computers, as it pays a _lot_ better.
> 9) How did you/are you choosing a topic for your thesis/dissertation?
Can I get back with you on this? ;)
> 10) How did you/are you preparing for your comprehensive and oral exams
> and foreign language requirement?
My department has two "plans." One involves a thesis, one involves
comps. I chose the thesis option. I just have to defend my thesis.
> 11) Have you published articles or read papers at conferences? How soon
> into your program did you start trying to publish?
I've written, but haven't been published yet. I _may_ be presenting a
paper at a conference in the fall. It took me a year before I was
comfortable enough to start thinking about getting published.
> 12) What are your plans after grad school?
Work and then more grad school.
Hope this has been helpful. If you have any additional comments or
questions, just let me know...
- Todd
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
- T o d d E. V a n H o o s e a r -
``'''vanhoose@gdl.msu.edu - vanhoose@msu.edu - vanhoose@sparhawk.cl.msu.edu
(._.) Michigan State University - East Lansing, MI USA
(_) Computer Laboratory - Department of Communication
`---' http://clunix.msu.edu/~vanhoose
"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind." - Kipling
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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