What Going Out of State for Grad School and Reality TV Competitions Have in Common

I probably watch too much reality television for an "intellectual." Back in the day, you'd find me zombified on the living room couch watching Say Yes to the Dress and What Not to Wear. Things have changed since then (namely, the amount of free time I have to be zombified doing anything), but some things haven't. Great British Bake Off teaches me how to handle criticism the British way and make meringue. Thanks to my fiancé, Ryan, I now religiously watch Survivor every season. So I won't lie to you: when I was bored this weekend, I watched an embarrassing amount of America's Next Top Model.

ANTM is Tyra Banks' passion project: a "cycle" of contrived drama and cringeworthy product placement that allows aspiring models to kickstart their careers. It's over-the-top and laughable, but as I strayed into the [too high] hour of watching models cry about haircuts and lack of sleep, I noticed some striking, uncomfortable similarities to the reality of my life.

In ANTM, models from across the U.S. send in portfolios of their work as an application to be on the show. Once accepted, they move to Los Angeles, California, for the duration of filming. They compete with their fellow models to receive recognition and praise from the team of judges. In the first few weeks, they all scramble to make friends—and those who are left out (think: Stefano from season 22) are often those who have an established life back home (a.k.a. his wife and child). And in the end, some of the judgement is objective and technical, some of it's subjective, but one person walks away with the title of America's Next. Top. Model. Those who don't are forced to question whether they're really cut out for modeling after all.

Last fall, I labored over grad school applications for weeks, polishing portfolio material to send to different schools. Once accepted into Minnesota State's MFA in Creative Writing program, I moved 12 hours away from home and away from Ryan, where I will be for the next two and a half years. I competed against my fellow MFA-ers to receive a spot as a graduate teaching assistant, and I will have to continue to compete against them for positions and opportunities within the program. I have struggled to cement a friend group and cultivate close friendships when I know we will all be going our separate ways in less than three years, and I tend to prioritize maintaining those friendships and relationships back home instead. And in the end, though you can be taught technical knowledge, good writing often comes down to instinct and the subjectivity of the reader. If you're good, you get published. You get recognition and praise. If you don't—well, you start questioning this whole "career" you thought you were made for. 

Noticing some similarities?

The most notable reality tv competition trope that I see mirrored in my own life is the moment where the judges remind the contestants why they are doing this. In Great British Bake Off, the final bake is always for friends and family. And in Survivor, one of the most highly valued rewards a competitor can win is a visit from a loved one. Before the challenge where they can win this reward, Jeff Probst, the host and producer, always gives the contestants a taste of what they could have. You see wives reunited with husbands, sons with mothers, fathers with daughters. They haven't seen each other for weeks, and usually they break down when confronted with the image of what they get to go home to—and for whom they are playing to win a million dollars.

Then, the contestants must compete to see who will actually be able to have the loved ones visit—and without fail, they fight harder than they have all season. Why? Because it's lonely on the island. Because it's inconceivably difficult to spend your days surrounded by strangers. Because it's the best comfort in the world to talk to someone who knows you and in whom you trust completely.

Reaction of contestants in the "Game Changers" season to the news that they were competing for a visit with their loved ones. 

When I moved 12 hours away from all of my family and friends, I didn't realize just how much going home or having a visitor from home in Minnesota would feel like a Survivor loved ones challenge. Each time I return home, to that comfort of people with whom I've built trust over years and years of friendship (don't get me started on how hard it is for INFJ's to make friends), it feels like I can let go and be my real self. It gives me a taste of the outside world—the real world—outside the competition [or: grad school]. It reminds me of the bigger picture: I am competing for a fulfilling career so that I can build the life I want with Ryan. 

So the next time you flip on the tv and find yourself mindlessly hooked on some reality tv competition, think of me (or your dearest loved one in another grad program far, far away).