Fueled by a desire to become a teacher, Loren Mayshark entered Hunter College in 2008, with the intention of gaining a master's degree in two years. Six years and tens of thousands of dollars later, he abandoned his studies without attaining the deg...
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I spent the next several months pondering my situation. I didn't think it was right that I would be punished so severely for my failure on the exams. The capriciousness of Professor Caraja and the rigidity of Hunter had put me in an untenable position. I talked to every family member, friend, and educator I knew—nearly everyone with an opinion—and they all came to a similar conclusion: Hunter College was totally fucking me and I needed to do something drastic. In this society that meant one thing: lawyer up. I began my search of legal professionals locally and through contacts I had in New York City. After months of searching, I found the unfortunate answer. The kind of litigation I needed was sticky because big powerful schools (especially in the CUNY system) have legal teams and legal barriers to handle this sort of thing. No one would take it on without forcing me to pay a hefty retainer up front, and there was no guarantee that I would recoup any of my investment. The legal route was a dead end. I would most likely be throwing good money after bad.
I looked into transferring, but I would only be able to transfer a maximum of twelve credits of the twenty-seven I had earned, even if I transferred to another CUNY school. I would still have to do a thesis and perhaps another exam—not exactly a tantalizing option. I was running out of possibilities, so I felt that I only had one choice left: I began crafting a sober letter to the chancellor of Hunter. I decided that I would not just shrink away as they had probably expected; rather, I would tirelessly write letters until someone would help me. I'd write the chancellor of Hunter, the head of CUNY, and the New York State Board of Education if I needed to. I needed at least a modicum of satisfaction. Spring was passing into summer by the time I was putting my final touches on the carefully worded letter to the chancellor, when something truly remarkable happened: Professor Rosencrass wrote me out of the blue to tell me that the department had done away with comprehensive exams. He told me that if I could find a professor to write a new thesis for, I would be able to graduate.
After an agonizing period of research and weighing my options, I decided that I would return and write a new thesis, knowing that it was the only foreseeable obstacle standing between me and the elusive degree. I wrote Professor Rosencrass, telling him that I was interested in taking their offer to write a new thesis with a different advisor. I scheduled an appointment to meet with him at Hunter as soon as the semester commenced.
I began doing side reading and considering the faculty that could advise a potential thesis. I realized that there were only four possible candidates: Professor Angelico, the undergraduate advisor from whom I had taken Historical Methods. Professor Stein, a helpful, soft-spoken grandfatherly figure who taught my Intellectual History class. Professor Regresso, who I thought would be an excellent candidate to oversee a thesis related to Latin American history. If all else failed, there was Professor Rosencrass. He could be approached because I had a relationship with him and was once again placing my future in his hands. However, any topic that related to my degree program would be well outside of his area of expertise.
I wrote Professor Regresso first, because I thought she was the leading candidate. I sent her an email in late July of 2012 where I carefully explained I was willing to change the focus of my thesis to accommodate her. As I stated, "I am very flexible and I am willing to work together to find a suitable project which falls under the purview of your specific academic knowledge."
She swiftly sent me a response via BlackBerry, which began:
"Dear Loren, I'm en route to a six week research trip abroad, so this will be brief . . ." She then chided me, saying, "I will not supervise your MA thesis. We have been over this several times in the past." She ultimately suggested that one of the US history professors be my advisor and then wished me good luck.
I was initially discouraged that my first option had brushed me off so swiftly and I had a nagging feeling that she didn't want to understand my situation. I imagined that to her this multi-year odyssey I had been on was an annoying trifle. Although I was a little disheartened, I had made up my mind that I would not be thwarted. I next forwarded the email to Professor Rosencrass, along with my concerns, and he sent me a response saying that he could imagine that I was disappointed but that I may need to adjust my new thesis topic. He added that once I graduated I would be free to work on anything that I wanted to.
I knew that I had to be careful in my preparations for meeting with potential thesis advisors in the fall, especially since I had the nagging feeling that Professor Regresso either did not grasp, or did not care to grasp what I was proposing. I also realized that I would have a better opportunity to explain my ideas in person with the other potential advisors. I needed a carefully designed plan tailored to each of the remaining professors so that I could hopefully have them want to advise my thesis.
