As your applying to or accepting schools, there’s always this major question in the back of your mind. Where do I see myself in four years – and for the rest of my life? It’s alright to start hyperventilating here, there’s no shame in a good paper bag. Now in my experience, most people who apply to Parsons get divided into two groups: the people that have dreamed of Parsons forever and the people who stumbled upon Parsons.
I belong in the second category, the person who never thought in a million years that they would go to Parsons. I grew up in family that centered around the big state school dream, the Christmas tree was decorated with Penn State paraphernalia, and I think I knew about the Nittany Lions by the time I was three. This is what I thought college was; I never really explored the alternative until my high school art teacher pushed me in that direction. I still applied to all relatively big schools and then on a whim I applied to Parsons. I never thought I would actually get in.
March rolled around and I got accepted to pretty much every school I applied to and then all I was waiting for was Parsons. In all honesty, I was never waiting for Parsons; I had forgotten about it, in my mind I had already gotten declined. But then that fateful afternoon came where that big beautiful envelope was on my kitchen table and it was all a blur. It was an exciting blur, but one that was never considered. I immediately thought it was a mistake and thought I would just fail out if I went. I put in on the back burner while I thought about ‘real’ colleges, ones where my hobby, art, would be a fun side class while I study for my serious English degree.
May 1st rolled around and my decision letter still wasn’t sent in. I was still considering Parsons, but, of course, that big state school seemed like the more reasonable route. My mom ended up signing my acceptance to Parsons. She explained that it was my best option and if I failed out, I failed out. Now this led to mini panic attacks that just flowed into my first week at Parsons. But by the end of September things seemed right. I felt happy with, well, not my choice, but my mother’s choice.
College decisions are hard; they are filled with angst and this ultimate unknowing of what will happen. As you guys reach that point, start researching the school, the classes offered, and the campus. If you can take a college visit, take em’! Usually they are led by current students and help you understand the campus culture much better. My other piece of advice is always let your mother choose. No, just kidding. Actually, I’d prefer if she’d never know that. My advice is to just jump feet first. It’s the scariest advice I can offer, but hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
Ps. The picture above is an embarrassing picture from four years ago of my foundation section. Oh Section T!