By: Megan Tighe
On Teacher’s Day in South Korea, I was notified that my graduate school program had been unexpectedly canceled. I was slated to join a small cohort class of Intercontinental MBA students who would be traveling the world together for one intensive academic year. Unfortunately, the class was deemed too small. I had already booked a plane ticket to the United States to begin the program that summer and had turned down an offer to stay and teach at my elementary school in Seoul for a third year. I had spent the better part of the past year preparing for this next chapter in my life and on that fateful day in my adopted country, my future plans had come to a screeching halt. I didn’t know what life would have in store for me upon my arrival home.
By Cameron Shenassa
During the spring of my senior year in college, I was working at a real estate agency, leasing apartments on the North side of Chicago. I had taken the position out of fear that I would graduate jobless and have to move back to the suburbs and live with my mother.
A few people I went to college with were finding gainful employment, but most of them were accountants or engineers; most of the people I knew were working for free in overly-competitive arts and media internships or holding on to their jobs at Starbucks. My friends who once had big ambitions were scaling back on their idealism, borrowing money from their parents to pay the rising cost of rent, and drinking copiously. Possessing an English degree and having little work background outside of my various student jobs, I seemed on track to become yet another underemployed millennial.