Ever wonder about those mysterious, slightly older Princetonians who teach your precepts and then seem to disappear off the face of the earth? Our anonymous grad student has the answers. In this issue: he discusses some work and no play.
Q: What do grad students do during the summer?
A: The same thing we do every day, dear questioner: We try to finish our dissertations.
There's a perception that, because of the "student" part of "grad student," we get to check out from May to September. "It must be nice to have summers off," my uncle will say, staring at me disdainfully at family events. "I haven't taken more than a week off since I was 22," he'll add. Luckily, I enjoy this kind of banal, passively insulting conversation because I can smile, nod and turn all of my mental energy toward rewriting the introductory chapter to my dissertation in the back of my head.
The real work of a grad student is research, and research has nothing to do with the academic calendar. So, except for those whose research has them doing fieldwork elsewhere, we're stuck here, in Central Jersey, quietly hoping for a visit from the inspiration fairy.
The only real change is that there are no undergraduates around. No "fascinating" discussions in precept, no grading and a roughly 50 percent decrease in the amount of Lacoste seen around campus, which is nice.
Q: Grad students are just losers who can't hack it in the real world. You don't do any real work - you're just too lazy for a real job.
A: Well, shit, someone figured us out. Truth is, none of us do more than 10 minutes of preparation for precepts. We got into grad school by being really good bullshitters, so we never study for our own classes. And our dissertations? Completely plagiarized - our advisors don't read them anyway.
Now that the truth is out, I guess we'll all have to get real, socially useful jobs. Like investment banking or consulting.
There is a kernel of truth to the myth that grad students don't actually do any work. On the vast majority of days, most of us could unplug the alarm clock, close the blinds and stay in bed till noon, and no one would care. Hell, those of us who aren't teaching or taking classes could keep it up for a month before anyone noticed.
But grad students have two voices in their heads. The quiet, soothing voice of the short term assures us that on any given day, no one will know if we don't do jack. The shrill, panicky voice of the long term reminds us that at some point in the next few years, we'll have to produce a piece of groundbreaking scholarship or we'll have wasted our 20s.
"That conference paper isn't due for a month - you can sleep in," the first voice will tell us. "You'll look like an idiot in front of the people you need to give you a job," warns the second. "Seinfeld marathon on TBS!" urges the first voice. "Teaching at a community college and living in your parents' basement!" screams the second.

Some people give in to the first voice and take 10 years to write their dissertations. Others give in to the second voice and become workaholics. A few manage to strike a happy balance. But most of us just learn to live with constant low-grade guilt. Whenever we're working, we could be having fun. Whenever we're having fun, we really ought to be working.
It drives some people crazy. Not me though. I write this column.
"Ask a Grad Student" is written by a Ph.D. student. His name is withheld because, well, it should be pretty obvious from this week's column.
Have a question about grad student life? E-mail
street@dailyprincetonian.com.