Posted by Sheila Connolly (Sarah has nothing to say about it)
Never mind. Why don't I talk about this fabulous credential? Well, I do, but only under certain conditions. Based on years of experience, I have observed two modes of reaction, depending on the audience. When I am hanging with the Brooks Brothers suit crowd, of course I drop it casually in conversation. "Yes, when I was in Cambridge (a minuscule pause for effect), I..." That gets a smidgen of respect. You can see eyes light up, ears swivel forward, calculations revised. In contrast, when talking with ordinary people who live in the real world, when I say I went to Harvard there are a couple of standard reactions. One, people say, "gee, you must be smart." (That's debatable.) Two, they take a step back, as though I had the plague, or they believe I'm going to beat them over the head with incomprehensible vocabulary. Since normal people make up the majority, I usually keep my mouth shut, or say something vague like, oh, yes, I did some graduate work... I made the choice to accept Big H's generous offer to permit me to enter their doors (no scholarship money offered) was because I was at that distant time and place a medieval art historian. Even then I knew that professional niche was not exactly in high demand, so I figured I'd better optimize my chances of getting a job somewhere down the line by going for the big-name school. That worked real well (not). I finished my degree in a record-setting seven years (many people I knew chose to linger on the rolls as long as possible), and managed to find one part-time fill in job in art history, and then gave up the hunt and got an M.B.A. I like being in school. I also like having a job, but that's a different story. I love this form, because it provides such a wonderful glimpse into another world, one I don't inhabit. Case in point: the choice of "Prefix" you wish to use. I will give you the list in its entirety: Gotta love it, right? Some of these titles I don't even recognize–apparently that part of my education was inadequate (can someone tell me what a TanSri is?). And is anyone in the alumni office going to check if I choose to call myself Countess? I'd give you the list of "Field of Work" options, but that's even longer, although not quite as exotic. The income range is fun–it tops out at five million dollars plus. The total net household worth runs past fifty million dollars. Must be nice. And of course Harvard keeps me on their solicitation mailing list. Since Harvard has more money than quite a few small countries, I don't feel compelled to send them my paltry contribution. Would I do it again? Most likely–I mean, how do you say "no" to Harvard? Was it worth it? That's harder to answer. Obviously I'm not an art historian, so I didn't get much use out of my degree. I learned that sexism was rampant there (the men in the department got fellowships, the women didn't, back then). I learned that there are people in the world who think they deserve the best–and often get it. Maybe it's the attitude that counts. And maybe that's a lesson in itself. I have a confession to make: I have a degree from Harvard. A Ph.D., in Fine Arts. I'm not sure I'm allowed to use the name "Harvard" in print without getting permission from that august institution that owns most of Cambridge–I've heard they're sticky about letting anyone write about them. Who knows why? They've got more money and more power than any institution deserves, and plenty of lawyers to advise them. They're worried about some tiny ant of a writer making a dent in their sterling reputation?
Anyway, I'm stuck with this degree, which hangs on my wall in incomprehensible Latin and mostly takes up space. But that's not what I wanted to blog about. As you might guess, once Harvard has put their stamp on you, they will never let you go. Move seventeen times, and the alumni magazine will follow you. Free. You can read it and drive yourself nuts following the amazing achievements of various graduates–you know, Nobel prizes, running major international companies–and wondering just where you went wrong. And you can stake out your little corner of immortality by completing the form for the Alumni Directory. The most recent one arrived this past week.
Comments