When filling out college applications, I faced the choice of whether to prioritize my application to a “normal” school where I would have a well-rounded education and a social life, or whether to apply early to Tisch. I chose the latter. Now, as graduation looms– in exactly 31 more school days — I find myself reflecting on my education as a drama major at the NYU Tisch School of the Arts. I have learned some major lessons about the reality of life as a drama student here, which has proved far different than I’d anticipated.
The social life can be tough. There is, undoubtedly, a specialized social atmosphere to Tisch. Friendships can become competitive as students vie for the same roles, and the emotional nature of actors’ work can cause social tensions and sensitivities to run high. Where other schools have frat parties, we have fundraising parties for GAP shows. Where most colleges have a quad, we have Washington Square Park. Where girls in other programs have boyfriends, we– well, we don’t. Students at other schools characterize Tisch kids as a discontented and energetic bunch, which isn’t a completely unfair generalization. In my time at Tisch, the only subjects I’ve seen meet with universal approval are Meryl Streep and Blockheads’ $3 margaritas.
There is merit in this type of atmosphere, however. Yes, there are politics at Tisch, not to mention a lot of opinions. Yes, this can be exhausting. This world is part of the Tisch package. In signing on for a specialized education, students sign on for a particular kind of social life; but I believe this world also lends itself to growth. It challenges students by forcing them to be independent, helping them to develop and define themselves.
One of the most mind-bending things about Tisch, and undergraduate acting programs on the whole, is the grading process. Students have long bemoaned the face that we are graded objectively on a subjective art form—are we truly better or worse actors based on our interpretation of a script? Are teachers to assign us a letter grade based on our talent levels? Or do the grades rest on our abilities to adjust to the various acting techniques we learn? Acting-related classes make up 40 percent of our credits, so our GPAs depend quite a lot on this hazy process, and some teachers have expressed the same frustration with it. Unfortunately, there’s really not much to be done about it. We signed up for acting school, so we deal with it.
One of the most important things I’ve learned during my time here is the incredible length to which actors can go, if necessary. I have watched my peers rehearse late into the night and wake up at ungodly hours for auditions. My sophomore year roommate walked onstage for the opening night of a show she had been rehearsing for two months, hours after she had been hospitalized for a serious case of food poisoning. I have witnessed miraculous recoveries from dance- and stage combat-related injuries, and seen my colleagues go without food, sleep, water, and social lives when scheduling is tight. Their devotion and discipline are amazing. In a city like New York, where principles such as admiration and respect can easily be forgotten, the drama student community serves as a reminder of the feats individuals are capable of achieving out of sheer dedication and willpower.
I’m probably incapable of knowing at this point whether or not Tisch was the right path for me, personally. My friends and I have come this far in achieving our fake degrees, and whether these will help us secure actual careers is undefined. There are times we worry about whether our dreams of becoming actors directly conflict with our (equally potent) dreams of never being homeless. The inarguable takeaways are the immensely valuable lessons that my time here taught me, and the relationships I have formed. I am stronger for having gone to school here.
So yes, I spent $200,000 to attend this crazy school and earn an acting degree. No apologies.