If Hogwarts, or another fine institution of magical education, offered a Ph.D., I imagine that the qualifying exams would be aptly named T.O.A.D.S. or Tests for Outstanding and Advanced Doctoral Studies. After watching Harry, Ron and my favorite, Hermione, struggle through the preparations for their O.W.L.s, it is likely that the requirements for the current muggle Ph.D. would pale in comparison. Yet even as a muggle degree, the Ph.D. is not an easy levitation spell.

A Ph.D. candidate who has completed all requirements except the dissertation is referred to as “ABD” or All But Dissertation. “Piled Higher and Deeper” (which shares an online comic of the same name) is a more apt phrase to describe Ph.D. than “Doctor of Philosophy.”

I’m writing to you today from a well-used perch in my makeshift office while I watch carefree undergraduates passing by as they joyfully participate in the folly that is their freshman year. I feel like Snape toiling away in his dungeon classroom.

I’ve been here for hours today, and the most productive thing I’ve done is watch marine mammal anti-captivity videos, that is hours of amateur YouTube footage of Shamu, and address my Christmas cards. Yes, it is the first week of November, and no, I do not normally send out season’s greetings via owl or muggle mail carrier.

Somewhere along the way, the young idealist in me was convinced that the life of the mind, intellectual pursuits and forever mentoring the young, malleable leaders of tomorrow was the way to a fulfilling career. Oh, to remember the days when I thought, “Yes! Advancing political theory research will positively impact the daily lives of many.”

Had I chosen a more lucrative path and graduate degree I could be a fully practicing and licensed lawyer (heck, I could have gone to law school twice by now, literally) or be a board certified medical physician. Or I could be Shamu’s head trainer.

But I don’t really have an interest in wearing a suit, scrubs or a black and white wetsuit to work, so I suppose I shall continue on in the first-world drudgery that is academic hazing.

Plus, at this point, I’m pretty sure I’m unemployable as any other type of functioning member of civil society. (Perhaps Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is in need of a new cash register attendant?)

Students, believe it or not, the muggle job market isn’t clamoring for a wild feminist with an inclination for animal liberation. Shocking!

So, to the bright minds of the future, here is my advice: avoid a Ph.D. in the humanities like the earwax flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Sure, it’s all fun and games for the first few years but then, much like Harry Potter’s basilisk, the dissertation will slither after you through the pipes and in your dreams, only to look you in the eye and cause sudden death. With this hypothesis out on the table, I’ll do my best to continue looking around corners with mirrors, just like Hermione Granger. (Or, at least, I think that is a hypothesis. I’d have to check with a science Ph.D. to be sure.)

Michelle Fuentes is a Ph.D. candidate in political science. Her column runs biweekly on Tuesdays.