I didn’t go to college. ❌

Scratch that — I went to college. A few colleges, actually. But none of those courses ever culminated in a degree, or even any useful skills.

(Except for maybe my improv class. That shit taught me how to think on my feet. 🤷)

My entire college resume was an embarrassing disaster — until it wasn’t.

👉 How do you feel about your college experience (or lack thereof)? Hop over to LinkedIn and join the conversation. 🍻

I got a head start — or so I thought

I took my first college class in the 10th grade. 

My school district facilitated a dual enrollment program that enabled high-performing students to take college courses instead of high school courses, and receive both high school and college credit for them.

And we didn’t have to pay for those college courses. 👊

I didn’t enroll in this program because I wanted to challenge myself academically, or even earn free college credits. 

I enrolled because I was tortured in high school, and I would have burned my eyeballs on the surface of a thousand suns to avoid that soul-crushing prison. 😭

So just like that, I found myself happily driving to the local community college every day and taking classes like Economics, Sociology, and English Composition.

I didn’t particularly enjoy these classes, in the same way that I didn’t not enjoy the classes I took at the high school.

Academics were all just… fine. 🤷

I was far more interested in my activities outside of school, like: 

• Working for my family’s business. 📊

• Coaching figure skating. ⛸️

• And stepping into the spotlight in whatever Neil Simon play the local theatre was staging that month. 🎭

And the flexibility of taking college courses rather than the daily 8am - 3pm structure of high school allowed me to pursue those interests.

I wasn’t really thinking about my academic future. I knew I wanted to earn a degree, but I wasn’t appropriately planning for it.

Boy, was that a mistake. 🙄

Leaving the nest

After high school, I found myself going away to an elite conservatory in NYC that wouldn’t accept any of my community college credits.

But it was an exciting opportunity, and they gave me a scholarship, so I wasn’t too peeved about “starting over”.

There was just one problem—

The conservatory was an intense full-time program… and I had no money. So I had to work to pay rent and, ya know, eat. 🤷

Most of my classmates came from rich families who could cover all of their NYC living expenses, so they could just focus on being full-time students. 

Some had sincere gratitude for their situation, and were fully aware of how fortunate they were. I had no problem with those kids.

Others were utterly clueless, like this one blue-blooded blonde bitch from Boston who terrorized me because I couldn’t drop my shift to focus on some last-minute changes for a group project.

“Kristin,” she chastised, “if you really want to be here, you’ll prioritize this.”

I snapped back, “If your daddy wants to pay my rent this semester, then I’d be happy to quit my job. But for now, I’m working harder to be here than anything you’ve ever worked for in your entire life.” 😡

Every day was draining.

So after a year of going to school full-time and working full-time (while still not earning enough money to properly eat — one concerned teacher even referred me to an anorexia counselor), I decided to transfer to a more traditional university that would allow me to take a lighter course load.

I enrolled in a few “core credits” that every degree requires… 

…A general math class…

…A general science class…

…A philosophy class that only succeeded in making me an expert in never drawing a conclusion… 🤦

And I sat down with an advisor to figure out my path to a degree.

Adding up all my credit hours, I should have been halfway through my junior year by then. But I was starting over once again, and the advisor predicted that it would take me another 5 years to earn a degree at the pace I was able to move.

F*ck that.

I didn’t even finish the semester. I just stopped going to class. I dropped out without telling my parents — or anyone, really.

• I had graduated high school with a 4.2 GPA.

• I was the only student in my district to earn a perfect score on the state-wide standardized writing test — twice.

• And I had tuition scholarships to all the schools I applied to.

Yet, a bachelor’s degree seemed hopeless. 😔

How the hell did people do this without living at home or having rich parents?

Oh. Duh. Exorbitant student loans. 🙄

Welp. Wasn’t gonna do that. 🤷

So I officially entered the world…

I put my head down, and my ass up. I fudged my resume to get jobs I wasn’t qualified for, then worked twice as hard as everyone else to succeed in those jobs (something I was used to by then).

I got noticed, promoted, poached, and eventually started a few businesses and became a full-time entrepreneur.

I had a great career. Folks were shocked when I told them I didn’t have a degree.

And I committed that if not having a bachelor’s degree ever prohibited me from taking the next step in my career, I would go back to school.

But that never happened.

And once you’re in your 30s, with over a decade of formidable work experience, nobody gives a shit about your undergrad alma mater.

But internally, I felt stagnant — not in my career per se, but with my personal growth and world outlook.

I had heard that there were some Executive MBA programs that didn’t require tertiary prerequisites, but after researching them, I found that most of them were, well, crap.

On a whim, I decided switch up my search criteria to include the term “real estate” (the industry I worked in), and came across a school I had never dreamed to consider—

Harvard.

Harvard Business School doesn’t offer an Executive MBA, but Harvard Graduate School of Design offers an Executive Real Estate program that is comparable.

To even apply, they required 15 years of leadership experience, and two letters of recommendation from CEOs (one of which I obtained from the legendary Frank Supovitz🙏 ).

But they didn’t require a bachelor’s degree.

So I applied — thinking I didn’t have a shot in hell. It was Harvard, for Christ’s sake.

And when I received my acceptance letter, I was overcome with a cocktail of euphoria, disbelief — and panic.

🥳 Euphoria: After years of being embarrassed by answering the question “where did you go to school?” with “I didn’t”, if I worked hard and passed this program, I would officially be a Harvard Alumna. 🤩

🤨 Disbelief: Was this some kind of mistake? Were they going to revoke my invitation as soon as I told people I was going to Harvard? How humiliating.

😫 Panic: How the hell was I going to pay the $80k+ price tag? What if I’m truly not qualified? What if I fail?

I allowed a few days for those emotions to settle, then got down to figuring shit out.

How could I make this work?

The first step was to speak with the admissions team to:

1. Confirm that this wasn’t a mistake, and

2. Gain a better understanding of what I was committing to by enrolling in this program.

Aside from having to travel to Boston for three core curriculum terms and two electives (absolutely nothing was online back then), there were also other travel commitments to D.C. and Miami.

During the time not spent on campus, I was to complete two critical projects — a team project with classmates headquartered all over the world, and an individual thesis.

This was not only going to be an expensive endeavor, it was going to be life-consuming.

Was it worth it? 🧐

I began crafting a cost-benefit analysis…

My husband threw it in the garbage.

“You’re going,” he announced.

He cut through the noise I was creating (mainly because of my own insecurities and imposter syndrome), and put his foot down.

This was an unmissable opportunity, and he was not going to allow me to squander it.

But how were we going to pay for it? 

We didn’t have the cash available, but we did have an asset that we could liquidate…

Two years earlier, we had purchased our dream home. 

For us, it was our symbol of success. 

It was our vision of family. 

It was what we had worked so hard to achieve.

But when Harvard comes knocking…

So we sold it, moved into an apartment, and wrote Harvard a giant check.

I was about to embark on the greatest adventure of my life. 👊

—

We’ll pick this one up next week! In the meantime, head over to LinkedIn and tell me your college story.

Cheers! 🍻

-Kristin :-)

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