D’Orazio’s new memoir, A Shot in the Dark (Blackstone Publishing, 2025), traces his journey from growing up in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ to working at the top of his profession in the fashion field. Here, D’Orazio reflects on his early influences, his evolution as a photographer, and the experiences that have shaped his perspective and his art.

Photographer Sante D’Orazio’s memoir of life in high fashion and Hollywood.

You grew up in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

I was raised in Flatbush and went to Erasmus Hall High School. The area is now called Kensington, but back then it was just Flatbush to me. I still have family there, though most have moved away.

In your memoir, you say you got into photography early because of a man who lived around the corner.

I didn’t know much about him except his name—Mr. [Lou] Bernstein—and that he lived around the corner from me when I was about 10. He became my mentor in photography and life. He’d been part of the old New York Photo League, with photographers like Robert Frank, Walker Evans, Weegee, and Berenice Abbott. He never worked commercially; he shot on weekends and worked at Willoughby Peerless, the equivalent today of B&H Photo.

Six-year-old Sante D’Orazio playing stickball in his ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ neighborhood.

You started at a junior college and then transferred to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

After my father passed away, I went into survival mode. I studied commercial art at a New York Community College, thinking I might become an art director. I hated it. I was already painting nudes at the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Museum and the Art Students League, so I transferred after researching the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ faculty. was teaching there, he was a leading Realist painter concentrating on the nude. I also discovered how strong the faculty was in the fine arts and the humanities. I’m grateful I wasn’t at a full-time art school; the humanities helped round out my aesthetic education through literature, philosophy, history, and widened my scope of knowledge of the Arts. And I loved the campus.

Your cousin, who was a hairdresser, suggested you get into fashion photography.

I went into the city with my portfolio—no appointments, no experience. I tracked down Avedon, Penn, Scavullo. I didn’t get past the front desk at Avedon’s. Penn didn’t open the door. Scavullo told me to get out. I eventually got a job as a second assistant, doing gofer work and building a portfolio.

Model Helena Christensen in Leningrad for British Vogue, 1990

You eventually made your way to Milan.

Italian Vogue was down the street from my hotel. I brought my portfolio expecting rejection. Instead, they gave me a two page-spread assignment of “Beauty” nudes, which translates to skincare, makeup, and fragrance. I was 25.

What was it like photographing the supermodels and rock stars of the 1980s and 1990s?

There was a whole new zeitgeist in the 80s. I had my first assignment with Italian Vogue, soon after my first Vogue cover with German Vogue. In Rome, while shooting the collections, I met a 15-year-old Christy Turlington with her mom in the hallway of our hotel. I became friends with Cindy Crawford, Tatjana Patitz, and Stephanie Seymour before they became the new generation of superstars, they were the first to be termed supermodels. Our careers rose in parallel.

By the 1990s, Hollywood glamor had waned and needed revitalizing. Bruce Weber, Herb Ritts, and I brought glamour back to the movie industry through the magazine world. Once we put actresses like Michelle Pfeiffer and Kim Basinger on a Vogue cover, sales shot up, and fashion magazines shifted to celebrities.

Model Tatiana Patitiz on British Vogue

And famous people like Prince.

I took this assignment because it was Prince. I was early to the studio; Prince arrived early too, with fedora, makeup, and no entourage. Though the client hadn’t arrived, he asked if we could shoot. We finished in about 20 minutes. He left before the client showed up. They weren’t happy, but I was thrilled, we got some great shots.

You have an unnerving story about taking a photo of Mike Tyson with his tiger.

I went to shoot Mike at his home in Las Vegas for Esquire magazine. I was looking for a place to shoot; he directed me out to the backyard. What he didn’t tell me was that he had pet tigers!

Heavyweight boxing champion Mike Tyson, 1996

When I walked out, I thought a dog was running at me from behind—it was a tiger. It jumped on me. Mike came out laughing and said, “She’s just a puppy.” So I took it in stride and acted like it was nothing, though it wasn’t the case! I asked him to take off his shirt, and he started wrestling with the 200 lb. puppy. That’s the shot.

So you’re also a painter. How do your photography and painting practices relate?

I paint images on film that become small abstractions, scan and print them large, collage them, and paint over them. The mixed media feeds itself.

What do you think about art and artificial intelligence?

AI can only remix what it’s fed. It can’t produce the true idiosyncrasies that only the human mind can create. Perfection is machine-made and meaningless, soulless. That energy from hand to paper—AI can’t replicate that.

There’s a growing interest among young people in film and analog processes. Have you seen that?

My son used to make fun of me for not understanding digital manuals. Now he asks me about film. I like that people are going back to handwriting and notebooks. I wrote my memoir by hand. I believe in that process, it extends your sensory perception.

What advice do you have for today’s young photographers and artists?

Know your history, or you’ll copy people without realizing it. Have chutzpah—knock on doors. Show up, even if you’re mopping floors. That’s how artists always learned and grew, from the past, and the bottom up! Most of all take criticism, if you can’t, you’re not ready.

Anything else you want students to know?

If you spend your time trying to satisfy the right and the left, you’re stuck in the middle—that’s the definition of mediocre. Reach inside yourself, fail and get up again. Don’t be afraid of who you are, as long as it’s real to you. And study, always study. ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ is exceptional when it comes to the quality of education, it’s the best kept secret in the N.Y.C. school system. But then I’m biased—I have a real soft spot for my alma mater

The post A Life in Focus appeared first on ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

“Take your time,” one her peers yelled from the audience.

If the pause betrayed any nervousness around giving the student address in front of the boisterous crowd in the Claire Tow Theater, it quickly gave way to a fiery speech that struck a chord with the assembled.

Adversity? “Seen it. Lived it. Felt it,” she said defiantly, after invoking Langston Hughes and recounting a childhood that taught her that life won’t always look like what you expected.

“Our accomplishments,” she told her fellow graduates, “live in every sacrifice, every setback, every reason we could have stopped, but didn’t.”

Chin-Phillips says she certainly had her share of challenges growing up between ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ and Barbados. Born in the United States, her mother was deported when she was 6 years old, so she was raised mostly by aunts and other family members in New York while her mother stayed in Barbados.

As she prepares to apply for doctoral programs in occupational therapy, the transfer student talks about growing up apart from her nuclear family, learning that support would always show up when she needed it, and her gratitude for the community and mentors at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ that reminded her of her worth.

What was your childhood like?

My family is from Barbados and Guyana, and I spent a lot of time going back and forth between the two places. Every summer, I was in Barbados almost immediately after school ended, and I’d come back right before the school year started again.

We kept in touch however we could—lots of Skype calls, emails, all of that before FaceTime and texting were really a thing. It wasn’t easy, but it definitely taught me resilience and adaptability very early on.

What brought you to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

˝ńČŐłÔąĎ actually wasn’t my first stop. I originally attended LIU ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ as a health science major. Eventually, I realized I wanted to pursue a path connected to speech pathology, so I decided to transfer. A family friend encouraged me to apply to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

You’re now majoring in linguistics with a minor in communicative sciences and disorders.

Linguistics overlaps a lot with CSD, especially when it comes to language development and communication. I believe courses like these should be required for people studying education, literacy, sociology, and child development because language impacts everything.

What opportunities have stood out to you during your time at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

One of the biggest was participating in the Mellon Undergraduate Transfer Student Research Program with [Assistant] Professor Anne Fredrickson. My group researched how accredited colleges in New York prepare future speech-language pathologists to work with bilingual populations.

I really loved that experience because it combined research, language, and questions of equity and representation. It also gave me confidence in my own voice and perspective as someone who grew up between cultures.

I also received the Zicklin Scholars Degree Completion Grant, which was incredibly helpful during my academic journey.

Outside the classroom, what communities or organizations have been important to you?

A lot of my extracurricular involvement has centered around Black Faculty and Staff initiatives on campus. This past year, I became treasurer of the Black Solidarity Day Committee, which has been a really meaningful experience.

When I first transferred to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ, I didn’t know much about Black Solidarity Day or some of the history behind it. Through mentors, faculty, and staff members, I became more involved and started to understand how important community-building and cultural advocacy are on campus. That work really helped me feel connected here.

Looking ahead, what would your dream career look like?

I always struggle to answer that because I don’t think there’s one perfect path for me yet. But I know that whatever I do, I want it to connect back to culture, community, and the Caribbean.

Anything involving the West Indies or Caribbean culture immediately interests me. I already do work with the West Indian American Day Carnival Association here in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ, and I love being part of spaces that celebrate where I come from.

At the end of the day, I think I just want a career where I can help people while still staying connected to my roots and my community.

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The glitch was fixed, and Khaimov was in. From day one, he knew he would be taking business classes, with the idea that an accounting degree could support a future career in law. But then he started an internship at PBS and became absorbed in his role working for an executive producer affiliated with the station. It was his first exposure to the inner workings of a professional accounting environment. “The executive producer was working on a biographical piece for the network,” says Khaimov. “We interns were in the back office working on finances and tax-related items.”

“It was pretty awesome going back and seeing people who had helped prepare me for my career, polishing my résumé and interview style, among other things.” Khaimov also received help through the Harvey L. Young ’59 Family Scholarship in Accounting, graduating magna cum laude in 2006.

Today, Khaimov is a real estate tax partner at global accounting, tax, and advisory firm EisnerAmper. He also serves as a director-at-large for the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Alumni Association, regularly returning to speak with students and offer the same kind of guidance he once sought.

When asked what advice he gives prospective business students, he doesn’t hesitate. “Hard work matters. Proactiveness matters even more,” says Khaimov. He stresses that, especially in accounting, what students learn in class truly follows them into their careers. He also says that employers can teach technical details, “but they can’t teach work ethic or initiative.” Those qualities, which he sees consistently in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ students, are what set them apart.

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Now, just over a year into his new role, Rodriguez is bringing new energy and vision to BLMI, a program he describes as “a one-stop shop” for students who need support, community, and a place to belong. The initiative provides personalized academic advisement, peer and faculty mentorship, career planning and leadership workshops, and prioritizes finding mentors that its mostly black and brown student population can relate to. (The program is open to students of all races and genders.)

Rodriguez talks about his path, the challenges students face, and what it means to build a space where students feel like they’re home.

You’ve had a remarkable journey. Can you share a bit about your background and how it shaped your work today?

ĚýI was born in Puerto Rico and came to New York when I was nine—originally just for vacation. But my mom decided to stay, and we ended up navigating some tough times, including homelessness and eventually foster care. I lived in public housing and then with foster families. That experience shaped everything. I always wanted to be a doctor, and I pursued that dream all the way to medical school. But due to financial issues—my loan was canceled—I couldn’t complete it. That’s when I found myself in education, working with foster youth, and realized this was my calling.

What drew you to BLMI and ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

Honestly, it felt like destiny. Through my master’s program in higher education, I focused on men of color in STEM. When I saw the opportunity at BLMI, it aligned perfectly. What impressed me most was the legacy—former students returning as staff, alumni staying involved. That speaks volumes about the impact of the program. It’s not just a student initiative, it’s a community.

What are some of the biggest challenges you see students facing, and how is BLMI addressing them?

ĚýResource gaps are a major issue—transportation, housing, food insecurity, tuition. We’ve had students come from programs where they received MetroCards, and suddenly they’re here without that support. We’re working to build emergency funds, scholarships, and partnerships to help fill those gaps. We also sent students abroad this summer—two to Japan, one to Spain—but rising costs meant we could only send three instead of six. We want to do more.

What’s your vision for BLMI moving forward?

ĚýI want BLMI to be a true one-stop shop for students. We’re implementing student success plans that include academic, career, and social-emotional components. We’re using tools like Navigate to help students track their progress and goals. My background in ASAP taught me the value of intrusive advisement—checking in regularly, using data to identify roadblocks, and creating targeted support. We’re also building stronger ties with other campus programs and departments to ensure students are connected across the board.

What has surprised you most since joining ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

The level of collaboration. I’ve worked in different higher ed spaces, and it’s rare to see such strong partnerships across departments—Africana Studies, Sociology, LGBTQ+ Resource Center, Women’s Center, ISSO. Everyone is invested in student success. We had a summer institute where staff, faculty, and alumni all came together to engage new students. That kind of unity is powerful.

What’s the vibe like in the BLMI space?

It’s home. Students walk by and hear conversations in Spanish, see people who look like them, smell jerk chicken—it’s familiar, comforting. I had two Latino students stop by and say, “You guys are speaking Spanish in there?” That sense of belonging is everything. It’s not just about programming; it’s about creating a space where students feel seen and valued.

If resources weren’t an issue, what’s your dream for BLMI?

ĚýI’d love to create dedicated internships for our students—tailored to their majors, with alumni mentors and networking opportunities. We took students to a Latino leadership conference in New Jersey, and it was transformative. Imagine if we could send them to national conferences in Seattle or California. I’d also love to take students suit shopping before galas or professional events. We’ve had to rely on donations, but how amazing would it be to say, “Let’s go to Men’s Warehouse together”?

What impresses you most about ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ students?

ĚýTheir talent and drive. I sit down with students for success planning, and they’re already building portfolios, launching businesses, developing software. They’re not waiting for permission—they’re doing it. We just need to make sure the system isn’t getting in their way. If we’re not ready to support them, we’re the barrier.

Outside of work, what keeps you grounded?

ĚýI’m a father of two—a 15-year-old son and a two-year old daughter. We’re big on road trips and hiking. Every Father’s Day, my son and I go camping. It’s our tradition. We’ve hiked in New York, Vermont, Maine, even Costa Rica. It’s how we stay connected and recharge.

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Pursuing a business administration degree in finance, Edwards juggled one or two classes while working full-time, taking semesters off to meet financial demands. She says visits to the Student Activities, Involvement, and Leadership (SAIL) Center helped her with a tight-knit staff that included Afro-Caribbean women who understood her experiences and championed her goals. They guided her through funding processes for the National Association of Black Accountants (NABA) club, for which she was president, and encouraged her to stay involved in campus activities. “The women at SAIL kept me focused,” says Edwards. “I could tell everyone there wanted the best for me. They saw that I was definitely driven and had tenacity. They made themselves available for me any time I needed guidance or had questions.”

In addition to SAIL, Edwards found support from staff and counselors at the Magner Career Center. She shared that they were instrumental in helping her obtain internships that aligned with her career goals. Her first was at Playfair Planning, an independent financial firm based in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ that provides holistic financial planning. She then interned at the NYC Small Business Resource Network run by the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Chamber of Commerce. Bloomberg L.P. came next—an internship that led directly to a full-time offer once she graduated. Edwards worked in financial products, analytics, and sales while there, and also served as a campus ambassador, helping to recruit fellow ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ students for internships at Bloomberg.

A stint in the Consumer Insight and Marketing Department at Black Entertainment Television (BET) Media Group rounded out Edwards’ internship portfolio before she joined Bloomberg full time in June 2019. Most of her internships would not have been possible without stipends—a Magner Career Center stipend, a Robert J. Sisti Memorial Internship (overseen by the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Foundation)—and scholarships from the New York chapter of and the CUNY Mexican Studies Institute, the latter of which paid for Edwards’ final year of college.

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Most recently, Delamater co-authored (with Michael Domjan) an undergraduate textbook, The Essentials of Conditioning and Learning, and he concluded his tenure as editor-in-chief of the Journal of Experimental Psychology: Animal Learning and Cognition, where he helped shape the direction of the field by guiding rigorous, theory-driven empirical research to publication. Delamater reflected on his scientific journey, his perspective on the evolution of animal learning research, and the insights gained from years at the editorial helm of one of his discipline’s leading journals.

You started at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ in 1994. What drew you to teaching psychology here?

I saw in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ opportunities to develop a productive research program along with highly motivated students who possess the curiosity and eagerness to learn more about how the world works. In addition, I was attracted to the Psychology Department because it housed several key senior faculty members who not only expressed the types of academic values that I shared but who also had already developed inspiring careers of their own. I knew there was a great deal I could learn from each of them.

Your work has long combined traditional behaviorist methods with more recent neurobiological tools and computational modeling approaches to understanding basic learning processes. How has your thinking about what animals “know” or represent internally changed over the course of your career?

I’ve always found the question of knowledge representation a fascinating one to study scientifically. My adventure began with a simple question about how anticipations might influence perceptual experiences. If I’m thinking about something very sweet, for example, does that thought of sweetness make me perceive the beverage I happen to be consuming in the moment as being sweeter than it really is? There is plenty of evidence in nonhumans and humans alike that the answer to this question is yes. So, how does that work?

When I first came to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ, I approached this sort of question at a purely psychological level of analysis. When something makes us “think” of sweetness, for instance, the simple answer is that we imagine something sweet and that activates in the mind’s eye some incipient perceptual representation of the thing that we previously experienced as being sweet. Thoughts can activate perceptual representations.

Over the course of my career, I have become increasingly interested in understanding neurobiological mechanisms of basic learning processes. We now have tools that allow us to measure neural activity patterns in various brain regions when we instruct a rodent to anticipate sugar water. We can then ask whether that pattern of activity resembles what occurs when the sugar water is itself presented.

But my interest in knowledge representation goes beyond neural activity patterns with sweet rewards. We also try to devise fairly simple neural network models that simulate how a brain can learn to anticipate something and how complexities in that network might give rise to more sophisticated, context-specific forms of knowledge (e.g., the word “apple” means one thing when we think about food, but something quite different when we think about the classic rock band The Beatles and Apple Corps.). How does the brain encode context-dependent forms of knowledge? We try to approach these questions at multiple levels of analysis—from neurons to behavior to perceptions to computational systems.

Comparative psychology asks us to look across species to understand learning and behavior. What have nonhuman animals taught you that you think is especially relevant to understanding human cognition?

Psychologists have long understood that very simple nonlinguistic processes—ones we are often unaware of—can go a long way toward explaining how our minds work. Humans use language to great effect, but research has shown time and again that humans are notoriously bad at explaining the origins of their own thoughts, memories, feelings, and emotions. Most likely, a host of underlying neurobiological and psychological processes are at work that are opaque to conscious awareness.

More concretely, someone who has experienced something extremely traumatic may partly re-experience that trauma when exposed to some triggering event in their environment. It could be obvious or subtle, but in both cases the underlying mechanism is very likely associative in origin, with accompanying neurobiological processes at work.

For me it’s an extremely interesting question to ask how far a simple associative neurobiological process can go in explaining seemingly complex forms of cognition. One of my current hobbies is to ask how a brain that consists of neurons that simply excite or inhibit one another can produce an ordered representation of number. Our brains do encode quantity, but it is not at all clear how. That question relates to another issue I am deeply interested in—the representation of time. It’s clear to me that language is not necessary for either of these types of cognition.

During your tenure as editor of the Journal of Experimental Psychology: Animal Learning and Cognition, what shifts or emerging trends in the field stood out to you most?

My field developed out of an interest in studying the evolution of mind—how various cognitive faculties may have emerged in different species throughout the animal kingdom. Progress has been complicated by our increasing appreciation of how difficult it is to measure underlying psychological and neurobiological mechanisms in a single species, let alone in many different ones. The field has developed increasingly sophisticated behavioral and neurobiological tools to uncover those mechanisms, and that gives me hope that significant progress will continue.

Beyond that, there is certainly more application of computational modeling to assist us in understanding how complex interacting systems like the brain explain behavioral and psychological phenomena. When the AI movement began in my field in the 1980s, I saw promise in early connectionist network approaches. After a period of enthusiasm, interest waned. But more recent successes in AI have shown scientists the power of so-called deep learning systems in explaining aspects of thought.

Some researchers are now using AI systems as new types of “participants” in experiments to see if those systems learn tasks in ways similar to humans and other animals. This research is in its infancy, but researchers are discovering that various forms of AI learn quite differently than humans. That means there needs to be more interaction among psychologists, neuroscientists, and computer scientists in devising biologically plausible systems. Currently, AI is largely produced through engineering approaches aimed at accomplishing functional tasks. Its true power may be realized when we can use these tools as reasonable models of how the mind and brain actually work. Then, many interesting and relevant applications may become possible.

For students at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ who are interested in research careers, what questions about learning and cognition do you think are most exciting and relevant today?

I’ve always thought the field has been dominated by three basic questions: (1) What are the conditions necessary and sufficient for learning to take place? (2) What is the underlying content of that learning? and (3) How does that learning become translated into observable performance?

The first question is intensively studied in neuroscience. It attempts to identify the rules by which new connections between neurons get established—that is, what governs neuroplasticity in the brain.

The second question attempts to understand what aspects of the world become encoded in the brain as we learn. For example, sometimes behavior is automatic and habitual, and sometimes it is deliberate and goal-directed. These forms of behavioral control reflect distinct representational systems, and important questions concern how those systems interact to influence response choices. Moreover, other research increasingly points to how nonhuman animals acquire abstract representations of time, number, categorical information, and even other organisms and oneself. I expect these studies to continue to yield interesting discoveries.

Finally, the third question concerns how we use information encoded by the brain. This is closely related to decision-making—uncovering the rules we use in choice situations. Sometimes we “know” something is true but decide not to act on that knowledge. There are many interesting questions that arise from problems like that.

Overall, my advice to a student interested in research would be to learn enough about a discipline to identify a basic question that excites them, and then learn about the tools available to study that question. As students become more familiar with how the scientific process works, whether they answer their question definitively or not, this can lead to real insights, enthusiasm, and possibly a research career.

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Marsow entered higher education without a clear understanding of what college was meant to prepare her for, so she approached it with a simple plan to learn as much as possible. As a liberal arts college, ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ provided her with a wide variety of programs to choose from, so she explored nearly every major, taking courses across departments to discover what fit. What felt like “floundering” at the time ultimately became a period of finding herself: She loved music and had a strong affinity for math, which led her to an interdisciplinary major in music and economics. She joined a study abroad trip to Ghana. She also joined the cheerleading squad—she had trained in gymnastics as a child and loved sports; cheerleading was something she had dreamed of doing.

A student, Marsow credits mentors, including Lisa Schwebel, the honors program director, and Professor Robert Cherry, who helped her navigate the economics major, with giving her the guidance and support she needed. She also recalls the “compassion and attentiveness” of professors at the Conservatory of Music (Marsow plays the flute) who not only challenged their students but also recognized and respected the cultural and linguistic differences many brought to the classroom.

Marsow is grateful for her mentors but also speaks effusively about the Magner Career Center staff, relying on them for advice on scholarships, internships, and career opportunities. “I practically lived there,” she says.

Through the center, she received a Jewish Foundation for Education of Women Scholarship, which paid for two summers of internships at Morgan Stanley (later part of Citigroup Smith Barney) and the New York Attorney General’s Office, among others. She also interned at PBS.

As Marsow approached graduation, she imagined a future in finance. As the child of immigrants, she felt a career in the field would provide financial stability. But she had interned at Morgan Stanley during the turbulent years following the 2008 financial crisis. The environment proved deeply discouraging. She found the field male‑dominated, “an atmosphere reminiscent of the show Mad Men,” she says. A speaker at a ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ event later offered advice that stayed with her: Breaking barriers is admirable, but not at the cost of one’s own well‑being.

Ready for change, she took a job at Carnival Cruise Lines as an entertainment host, then transitioned into a human resources role at B’Above Worldwide Institute, an early childhood education agency. It was a return to the Magner Center that inspired her to start her own business in a field she loved. Through conversations with staff, Marsow realized that the one consistent thing in her life was her love of sports. She applied for jobs in sports management, but nothing came of it. She explored the possibility of starting her own business and wondered whether a local gymnastics school might be in demand. After speaking with families in her community, she discovered that there was indeed a need.

Marsow entered a special entrepreneur program that required her to develop and submit a business plan, marketing strategy, and other foundational documents. She also took free business courses through local organizations. In four short months she opened Prospect Gymnastics.

Today, in addition to teaching gymnastics and running a business she loves, Marsow writes regularly, has published pieces in several magazines, and is working on a memoir. Creative writing has become a meaningful outlet—now, with a flexible schedule and steady career, she has the freedom to develop her voice as a writer.

Looking back at her own journey, Marsow encourages prospective students to explore what ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ has to offer thoroughly and take their time in choosing a career path, “because the stakes are not as high.” For current students, her advice is clear: Make full use of the Magner Center, pursue internships, and explore widely.

“College may be one of the few times in life when exploration is possible before you go out into the world,” she says. “Join a sports team, take classes in unfamiliar departments, participate in music ensembles or theater productions, and meet as many different kinds of people as you can.” These experiences, she believes, are crucial to personal growth and a future career.

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At ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ, it was spring, and everything was alive, the landscape vibrant green. People were everywhere. He talked to students hanging out on the quads.

Asatryan moved to the United States from his native Armenia in 2016 after completing military service there, “on the Fourth of July, of all dates, although not on purpose,” he says.ĚýAs a new immigrant, he had no idea how higher education worked in the United States; he visited ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ on the advice of a friend. “Going on instinct,” he says. He was excited by what he saw. The school felt right, so he applied and was accepted.

Instinct would carry him only so far, however. With no idea what he wanted to major in, Asatryan took his time; he cites access to the wide variety of programs and courses at the college and the time he got to explore them as the reasons for his success in choosing a major. He settled on a B.B.A. in international business—which made sense to him, given his European background—with a minor in personal finance.

For Asatryan, instinct and research were two crucial factors in choosing the right school and gaining the right degree; another was the faculty.

“I was dreading taking an English course and [adjunct lecturer] Adam Bangser was such a great guy. He was actively interested in my background and pushed me to write even when it wasn’t relevant to the material that we were studying,” he says.

Asatryan credits Cindy Pham, associate professor of managing, marketing, and entrepreneurship, with helping him make the most of his time at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

“Professor Pham is incredible. She is very much invested in every student’s life. She inspired me toĚýknock on doors and ask questions, look for programs, explore opportunities.” She even motivated him to revive a chapter of the International Business Association club. He also became a peer mentor.

According to Asatryan, stellar academic programs and top-notch faculty will still only get you an education and a degree but not always show you what to do with them. “That’s part of the risk,” he says. “You want the education, it’s an investment in your future, but you need to know where you can go with that degree.” You also need to gain real-life experience through internships. Asatryan completed internships at Amazon, the landscaping and architecture company EKLA at the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Navy Yard, digital financial media outlet Blockworks, and New York State Senator Kevin S. Parker’s office, which was funded by a Magner Career Center stipend.

He enjoyed all of them. “They helped me gain confidence and be open to jobs not directly related to my major,” he says.

Working for senator doing ghostwriting, digital marketing, and campaign management was especially rewarding.

“Part of my job was trying to get the word out about resources during the pandemic—foods, supplies, healthcare—to the senator’s ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ constituents, particularly in the Flatbush area. It was wonderful work and a great opportunity thanks to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ,” he says. The internship was a crash course in public relations that Asatryan took with him to his present job.

Today, he works as an account manager at Cognito, a global public relations and marketing agency specializing in finance, sustainability, and technology.

“We help organizations tell the right stories, build credibility with the media, and provide trusted counsel,” says Asatryan. “It’s a fascinating job because every day there is something new that is happening, and you are working with so many experts— chief economists, CTOs, CEOs, founders—it’s nonstop learning. A big part of my role is to take complicated, complex topics within finance and technology and simplify them into stories people actually understand.”

Asatryan, who will be participating in an admissions event for prospective business students on February 19, has this advice for those who are thinking about ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ:

“Do your research, make the necessary appointments with admissions if you need to, but also, visit the campus, visit the library, which is terrific,” he says. “Spend time by the lily pond. Look around, talk with current students, and see how it feels to be there.”

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Having just completed her coursework in December, Plush reflects on her journey back to higher education and the unexpected moments that made it possible.

You first came to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ in 1999. What brought you here originally?
I was born and raised in ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ and graduated from South Shore High School. Coming to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ felt like the natural next step. I was a psychology major, and for a while I was doing pretty well. I remember one class in particular, Psych Statistics, just stopped me in my tracks. I tried it multiple times and couldn’t get past it. Also, life started happening. Responsibilities piled up, and I stepped away from school.

What happened after you stepped away?
I moved to New Jersey, got married, and had two children. I built a career as the director of a preschool and was doing well professionally. At that point, going back to school didn’t feel urgent. I was working, raising a family, and managing everything that comes with adult life. College felt like something I had already tried—and moved on from.

But things changed. What was the turning point?
It started with a medical issue. I had a severe toothache, needed a root canal, and developed a dry socket afterward. The pain was intense, and I was prescribed opioid medication. I was hooked before I even realized it. That period led to a cascade of problems—family tension, separation from my husband, and eventually losing my job when the preschool I worked at closed due to the casino shutdowns in Atlantic City.

How did you end up back in New York?
I needed a fresh start. I didn’t have a car anymore, I wasn’t working, and things in New Jersey had completely fallen apart. I came back to New York thinking I could rebuild. I thought I would stay with a cousin, and when that didn’t work out, I found myself homeless.

What was that experience like?
From 2017 to 2020, I lived on the streets of Manhattan, sleeping near 30th Street and Park Avenue. Not in shelters—on the sidewalk. It was an incredibly hard time. I was in an abusive relationship, cut off from my family, and just trying to survive day to day.

What changed your trajectory?
During the early days of the pandemic, a woman and her husband started coming around, handing out money to people on the street. She stopped to talk to me—and kept coming back. Her name is Traci. She was a retired patent attorney and had started the College Education Milestone Foundation, in memory of her father. She got to know me and said I seemed more like the type to be doing The New York Times crossword puzzle. She told me I wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t just see a homeless person, she saw me.

How did education reenter the picture?
Once I was able to secure housing and leave an abusive situation, Traci asked if I’d ever consider going back to school. At first, it wasn’t even on my radar. Instead, we started by writing a book together about homelessness during the pandemic. That book, , ended up on The Wall Street Journal bestseller list. Writing came naturally to me. I’ve always been strong in English—my mother was an English teacher—and that project reminded me of what I was capable of.

Is that what led you back to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?
Yes. Traci encouraged me to take a writing class, just to see how it felt. I breezed through it. That’s when I thought, maybe I can do this. With Traci’s support, I reapplied to ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ and was accepted in spring 2022.

What was it like returning as an older student?
Intimidating at first. I was clearly older than everyone else, sitting there with a notebook and pen while other students had tablets and fancy tech. But once I put my head down and focused on the work, it stopped mattering. Online classes helped a lot, too. They made it possible to balance everything without feeling so out of place.

Who supported you along the way at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?
So many people. Gina Priolo [an associate director in the college’s Student Success Unit], Professor Roni Natov, [Associate] Professor Martha Nadell, and the late Professor Carey Harrison were all instrumental. They worked with me to retain as many credits as possible from my earlier years and helped me map out a realistic path to graduation. Professor Harrison, especially, really reignited my love for learning.

Where are you now—and what’s next?
I have another book just released called . It picks up where my first book ends—going back to school, caring for my father before he passed, and rebuilding my life.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll do next, but I know it will involve writing, editing, or publishing.

What would you say to other adults considering a return to college?
I’m 44 years old. It’s never too late to start again. You might be surprised by how flexible and supportive the process can be. If I can come back after everything I’ve been through, it’s doable for a lot of people out there who think it isn’t.

The post A Long Road Back appeared first on ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ.

Tell us about your background.

I was born and raised in Chicago and its surrounding suburbs. My family owns and operates a church on the South Side of the city (my grandfather is the bishop, my mother the pastor). I flew the nest, dropped out of school, and moved to New York when I was 19 years old. Now I find myself here at ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ, finishing the degree I started over 10 years ago at Illinois State University. I initially moved to the city to pursue acting and theater, but other avenues opened up to me. I found myself working as a storyteller and producer, and I’ve been blessed to work across the industry, telling stories in multiple mediums—from short and longform videos on the internet at places like VICE and BuzzFeed to documentaries for companies like HBO and Hulu. But I’m eager to get back to my first love: theater.

Why did you choose ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

Honestly, proximity was my initial attraction. I live in Bed-Stuy, and it’s nothing for me to just hop on the B44 and jet to campus. The more I spoke to people about the school—everyone raved about its English Department, primarily creative writing. That paired with what I’ve come to learn about the Theater Department, made the choice a practical one.

Why did you choose the creative writing program and what do you like most about it?

Before anything, I am a writer, a poet. Words and the bending of language are things I’ve been doing before I even knew what I was doing. The core of everything I love and everything I’m good at lives on the foundation of my curiosity about words, language, and text. This was my entry point into theater. It’s what made it possible for me to explore documentaries and filmmaking. The key to conveying anything is the ability to tell a story, to harness language to do your will. All those years ago, during my first attempt to obtain a degree, I majored in theater—acting. This time around, it made more sense to pursue creative writing (playwriting), with a minor in acting.

Have you completed any internships, or received any grants, stipends, or scholarships from ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ?

Most recently, I was selected for the Mellon Undergraduate Transfer Student Research Program, where I am developing a project on the intersections of performance, memoir, and poetry under the mentorship of Professor Rosamond S. King. The English Department awarded me the Louis Goodman Creative Writing Scholarship [overseen by the ˝ńČŐłÔąĎ Foundation] for an outstanding creative writing submission. I was a a paid program that places CUNY in arts and cultural institutions in New York City. Through that program I was paired with the . I was a , serving as a dramaturg for the Public Playwrights residency.ĚýI was a Magner Career Center stipend winner; this funded a documentary project and work with an emerging New York City production company. I was chosen by to be a student ambassador connecting CUNY students with accessible, affordable theater experiences.

How do you envision your first year after graduating?

I would love to be workshopping and developing new works in and around the city, maybe even getting out of New York City, squatting elsewhere, and writing a play. I’m open.

If you had to convince another student like you to go to college here, what would you say?

The world runs on the backs of public school students. New York City shines because of public school students. It can pay to go to a public school. I would encourage anyone looking to further their education to look at what is available to them in their immediate communities and backyards. Enrichment is so accessible; all you have to do is reach for it.

Do you have any advice for your fellow students?

Two things. Take full advantage of the resources and facilities around you. Access such as this exists in very few places outside of academia or in our city. While they are available to you, not only use them, but maximize your use of them so that what you do or where you go next, you’re fully prepared because of the work you’ve already done and the connections you made.

And two: There’s sooo much “free” money on this campus—from fellowships, stipends, endowments, etc. Deadlines are scary, but get on them. The only shots you miss are the ones you don’t take. If you don’t get it the first time, apply again, and again, and again. Someone is reading those applications; they are seeing your name. Some things may not come around immediately, maybe not even the third time, but you’d be shocked to learn that in many cases what you do now is setting you up for the sixth thing, the seventh. Get yourself out there.

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