The other week I found myself at a dinner party, seated right next to my grad school professor. Talk about awkward. About 5 glasses of wine into the meal, my classmates and I seized the opportunity to pry some juicy teacher gossip out of him—how many people got turned down, who in our group almost didn’t get accepted—basically anything that made us feel better about ourselves. But by the end of the night, I had heard way more than I wanted to.
“I just thought you were a lazy rich girl trying to hang around in London for another year,” he said about my application.