Wednesday, April 4, 2012

The Plight of the MFA

“With the economy the way it is, I’ve decided to go back to school.” We all know someone who has expressed this thought - we may have even said it ourselves. Dance is no exception. Perhaps more than ever, artists are going back to school for their master’s degree. In many fields, a master’s degree implies that one is more knowledgeable, experienced, or marketable. But what does having a master’s degree imply for an artist? In the arts world, an advanced degree simply doesn’t carry the same implications as in many other fields.

So what is an MFA? It represents the culmination of years of achievement. It represents years spent focusing on studying what you love and pursuing a passion. It is a symbol of dedication to a craft, a desire to stretch yourself intellectually, creatively, physically, and emotionally. It can represent a stepping stone to a higher degree or a highly sought out position.

Perhaps the more important question to ask is what is it not? It does not come with a ticket to success. That is to say, an MFA is not immediately life changing. For every dancer who leaves graduate school with a salaried position in her field, many more will leave only to return to jobs they held prior to their degrees, as contracting studio teachers, fitness instructors, or in altogether non-arts-related positions.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with these positions. In fact, for many artists, these positions offer the flexibility to be ideal employment. However, these positions don’t normally demand an advanced degree. They are positions that many would have been qualified to hold prior to attending graduate school. For many, then, graduation can be a hard realization, when your heightened expectation of what position you will hold meets the reality of employment prospects, tuition debt, and real world expenses.

This is where the imaginary third year of graduate school comes in to play. In many fields, receiving your degree and beginning your first full-time, career-driven job go hand in hand. In the arts, however, this is simply not the case. For many of us, there is a third year of graduate school in which we have to figure out what your degree means for you. There may even be a fourth or fifth year. It was this third year for which, as I neared graduation, I had not prepared myself.

Graduating from my master’s program, I felt an incredible range of emotions. I was exhausted and satisfied, proud that I had not only survived those two years, but also created work that I was excited and proud to present. I was eager to make my mark on the world through my art. Perhaps most significantly though, I graduated feeling entitled. My expectations for me and my employability had grown exponentially and I felt ready to begin my career.

As I searched for jobs, I had to slowly start lowering my expectations. I had thought that immediately after graduating, I would be first in line for a competitive position. As reality set in and financial burdens began to pile up, I began teaching again, picking up studio jobs wherever I could find them. I felt incredibly unsuccessful and embarrassed for what I saw as failure – earning master’s degree only to return to the same jobs I had held as a high schooler. The truth is I had simply entered my third year.

My third year has been, perhaps, the most beneficial year of my graduate school experience. It was incredibly difficult for me to accept my return to teaching at various locations. I felt so prepared and excited for the possibility of full-time employment that not to be able to find it was a complete disappointment. With my third year, I had the opportunity to meet more dancers, get certified in new styles, and train in genres that I hadn’t had to time to explore yet. Most importantly, though, I accepted that not finding full-time employment as an artist is not failing, not even close to it. Rather, it is simply part of my career path.

Of the nine students in my graduating class, only one graduated with a salaried position at a high school dance program. The rest of us are working at coffee houses, restaurants, dance studios, anywhere we can find work in order to keep dancing. I say this not to frighten you away from going to graduate school or to make us feel hopeless. Rather, I say this because it is a reality that we, as artists, have to face, and one with which I had to come to terms after graduating.

Of course, much of this is circumstantial. I’m hoping that in five years, funding for the arts will have grown so much that this article has become irrelevant. Until we reach that place, this remains an important topic that isn’t really being talked about. Artists are graduating every year with advanced degrees and not enough work to offer them. Now is the time for us to accept those extra years of school - even try to rejoice in them. We have the opportunity to spend more time focusing on our own work and our own goals. In a field that is so based on the personal, perhaps this will even give us the opportunity to grow more as artists.

So, as a “third year” graduate student, here is what I do wish I had known as I entered graduate school: first, enjoy your time in school. For me, graduate school was worth every penny and every ounce of frustration that has followed it. I had the opportunity to focus wholly on my work and my dancing for two years. I was able to challenge myself the ways I had never before been challenged, pushing my body to its physical limit, and meeting renowned dancers and choreographers. How often in life does one get a chance like that?

Secondly, know your faculty and use them. There’s a reason recent graduates aren’t typically hired to teach at a university level, and that is because those who are teaching at that level have years of experience and insight. Throughout this whole process of trying to figure out my life post-graduation, my professors have mentored me. They have written letters of recommendation and sent my name out to friends all over the country. The arts world is one of collaboration and support, which is a huge advantage that we have over other fields, and my third year has let me really become a part of that support system.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I have learned not only to accept where I’m at in my career, but also to use it to my advantage. Working different hours than everyone else can be incredibly frustrating – until you realize that you have time to get trained in new styles, practice writing, cook, read, take classes, do whatever it is that you want to do to become the artist that you want. It has taken me nearly a year to look at this experience on that bright side, but that is a lesson I will take with me for the rest of my life.

Things may very well change in time. One year from now, or ten, or twenty years, I may be able to get a position that another dancer can’t because of my graduate degree. But right now, it is hard to accept that my MFA has not been immediately life changing as I once thought it would be. This is the plight of the MFA – it is a degree that comes with heightened expectations of one’s qualifications and employability, and yet without immediate gratification. Perhaps the biggest lesson to take away from your degree is the ability to accept and meld those two things.
I went in to graduate school completely prepared for the workload, expecting the sore muscles and physical exhaustion. What I wasn’t prepared for was that imaginary third year that follows for my many graduates. The year after you finish school when you have to decide what your graduate degree means for you.

So, is it worth it to get your MFA? That’s a question every individual has to answer for him or herself. For me – yes, completely. My MFA is only the start of my career path, and I’m excited to see where it takes me.