From Chaos to Clarity
How I Almost Overslept My Thesis Defense at MIT
Me: “Oh Fuck!”
Girlfriend: “Are you ok??!”
Me: “NO!”
Those were the words I muttered to my girlfriend as I stormed out of my 19th-century brick apartment complex in Central Square, Cambridge. It was 9:20 am, Dec 20th, 2012. I had overslept my alarm by two hours, and I was about to be late for the most important presentation of my life. Rushing onto the street, I frantically looked for my bike; it was covered in a fresh layer of snow and playing hide and seek with me. As I biked down Mass Ave at 30 mph — dressed in my blue half-buttoned collar shirt that I had slept in, paired with my poorly chosen striped tie — all I could think of was how unprepared I was to defend my Master in Architecture thesis at MIT.
The most important event in my life evidently came during the most stressful time. I went back to school a second time to become a better architect; the critical thinker and planner who can anticipate and ultimately react to possible problems. However, during my last semester in school, it seemed like all the decisions I made created bigger and more complicated roadblocks for me.
Before moving from California to Massachusetts, I had worked three years to save up for graduate school. Although I had received a half-tuition academic scholarship, I underestimated the cost of out-of-state living and my inability to repeatedly eat $5 Massachusetts super burrito for every meal. Two years into my three-and-a-half-year program, I had cleared out my bank account and subsequently borrowed student loans for the second time so that I could continue to receive one of the world’s finest educations. At the start of my last semester, I was presented with a multi-faceted opportunity to teach and to keep myself from accruing further debt; the school offered me two jobs, and I didn’t hesitate to take them.
Most of my peers took it easy during their last semester to fully concentrate on their thesis project. Financially, teaching was a great opportunity. But because I’ve never taught before, I underestimated the commitment it took. Two afternoons a week, I was a teaching assistant for the first year graduate level design studio. The class introduced students to the design studio culture and taught them to quickly get ideas out of their head and onto tangible mediums such as drawings and models so they could show — rather than tell — people their ideas. They were subsequently critiqued weekly based on what they produced and how they presented their ideas. It was common among architecture students to pull all-nighters every week because the projects were demanding and very personal. Having gone through this training myself, I understood the delicate balance between the quality of work in the allotted time and the amount of sleep one must get to present clearly. For many of my students, this class was an emotional journey, and many looked to me for support, guidance, and sometimes reassurance. I often helped them clarify their ideas and focus their efforts late into the night. As I helped them become better thinkers and managers of their time, I also built strong bonds with my students.
Similarly, the department entrusted me to manage the woodshop alone and close out at 1 am two nights a week. Secretively, I hoped that no one else would be there so I could quietly work on my thesis. But along came Chris, a 2nd-year graduate student, who was the only person I’ve met that dedicated so much his time to making pristine, well-thought-out conceptual models to explain his projects. He was there almost every week. I spent many late nights in the woodshop guiding him on how to fabricate his complex yet elegant models. Because of the many times I helped him accomplish his goals at the expense of my own, he promised to return the favor when the time came.
Because I worked so much, I had a lot in common with my student; we were always short on time and slaving away late at night. I had hoped my thesis advisors — whom all had PhDs in the field — would provide focused feedbacks after every bi-weekly review. Instead, they challenged me and questioned everything without ever giving me a straight answer; possibly because none existed. A week before my defense, my main advisor told me there was still a better solution, and she wanted to see me pursue a final iteration of my design. She knew this would result in many sleepless nights, but we both concluded that the design was not there yet. By then, most of my peers had already locked down their designs and started producing final models and drawings.
As part of the studio culture, many skilled underclassmen were recruited to help thesis students with production. However, I didn’t have a final design yet. Two days before my defense, I finally received the go ahead from my main advisor, but by then the most sought after underclassmen were all committed to helping my peers. I was fortunate that I had the support of Chris and most of the students I taught. They were aware of my progress and were willing to help me in my desperate time of need. I found myself suddenly in control of a small army of seven volunteers. Unlike my peers, my group was twice the size and more organized — by then, we’d had the entire semester to build trust and understand each other’s skillsets.
Working forty hours continuously and cracking many FMLXL jokes along the way, the group made substantial progress. Six hours before my 9:40 am presentation, the only thing left to finish was the four-foot by three-foot hero model Chris had spent two days on. My girlfriend, who had flown in from California to help with my war efforts, did her best to make the last few days more bearable. She ensured that everyone was well hydrated and fed as she took care of all food duties. But unlike my students and I, she had not endured the repeated all-nighters in school. She wanted to stay and continue to help, but insisted we go home for a quick nap and resume in a few hours. I agreed. Having not slept more than ten hours total that week, I was having a hard time focusing. Any rest before my thesis defense was better than none. Chris and a few of my student were willing to stay until I returned. With that, at 4 am I went home to get two hours of sleep.
The next morning at 7:20 am, my girlfriend woke up to my alarm, and subconsciously turned it off before going back to sleep. At 9:20 am, I woke up to constant vibrations from texts sent by my peers, my students, and even some from my thesis advisor, which I had never received before. She was desperately trying to get me to stop working to the last minute — something I frequently did in school — and move my thesis material to the presentation space half a mile away from the studio space where my presentation boards and models were. Little did she know, I had just rolled out of bed and was storming of my apartment.
Years of training, a semester’s worth of preparation, and my final push would go to waste if I couldn’t show up on time with my presentation materials. With only twenty minutes left to get to school, finish my model, move my materials, and mentally prepare for my presentation, I wondered how I was so unprepared for this moment. Regardless, I concentrated on biking as fast as I ever had down snowy Mass Ave. Weaving in and out of traffic, I couldn’t hear the noise from the cars or the people; I could only hear my heartbeat. At that moment, I realized, I couldn’t fail. I would be letting all the people that help me get this far down.
After cutting off a few cars and running a few stop signs, I made it to school in a record time of four minutes. I arrived to find the design studio in chaos. Many of my peers had not left the night before and were now throwing stuff together for their presentation. To my surprise, my final model was missing, several of students were sleeping on the floor, and Chris was nowhere to be found. With no time to lose, I asked a student to help me carry a handful of exploration models while I grabbed all the storyboards I had prepared. We rushed over to the presentation space, trying to shield my precious presentation plots and paper-based models from the falling snow.
I arrived ten minutes later and found Chris and the completed model waiting for me. Seeing that I did not respond to his texts, he had slowly but carefully made his way over to the presentation space with the delicate model. After thanking him, I quickly asked the people around me to help pin up my plots and spent the next two minutes to gather my thoughts away from the chaos of the morning.
At 9:40 am, I presented my thesis in front of a jury of renowned architects who had flown to MIT from all over the world to listen to us speak. While I could not bring everything I wanted to present, the 6’ x 30’ board and the models present were clear enough to express my complex idea. Little did anyone know, the two extra hours of sleep was a blessing in disguise. I was clear, concise, coherent, and used my storyboards effectively during my presentation. Many of my peers fell victim to working until the bitter end and were zombies during their thesis defense.
When all was said and done, I dropped to the ground — partly from exhaustion and partly from euphoria. Wondering why there was a taste of bitterness in my mouth, I realized there were tears on my face. I had successfully defended my thesis against all the odds, and everything I had seen as roadblocks ended up being blessings in disguise. As seventeenth-century English poet John Donne wrote, “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.” I was never alone in my journey.
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