Becoming an Architect
For days, I waited by my computer for one, special email to arrive—the kind of email that might change my life forever.
I had recently passed six of the seven required exams to get my Architecture license. Now, I stood by with bated breath for my seventh and final passing grade to arrive. I refreshed my browser, hoping with each mouse click that it would reveal itself.
Click. Click. Click.
I was so close to completing my twelve-year journey that I could taste it.
A single email was all that stood between me and becoming an Architect.
Let’s Take It Back to the Start
As a kid, life was simpler. I spent hours transforming small, plastic Lego blocks into fantastic sculptures, cars, and buildings. I sketched and crafted and played video games. I was enamored by design of all kinds and the creative thinking behind them that made it all possible.
Years later, I took my first steps to hone that design curiosity into a career. I wanted to be an Architect, to design buildings, to change the world.
After High School, I was eager to begin my university adventure as an architecture student. But I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Deceptively Simple
Studio. No one can quite prepare you for what the experience of Studio will be like, but I’ll do my best.
Imagine a large space filled with rows and rows of wide-format drafting desks (like the ones you typically see Architects use in the movies, propped up at an angle to help them draw). As an architecture student, this is where you learn, draw, eat, sleep, and effectively live your college life.
For the uninitiated, Studio is the primary “class” in any architecture student’s schedule. It’s likely the reason you would go to architecture school in the first place. Rather than a 1-hour seminar, Studio is typically a 3 to 4-hour session when you work on a single project and then receive feedback from your Professors.
A rite of passage, Studio is intentionally designed to separate out those from the program who can “make it” in the profession from those who can’t.
The first architecture project in Studio I ever made was deceptively simple.
We were asked to complete a single task—build a perfect 6" cube out of museum board (I.e. a thin, white, cardboard-like material). It seemed straightforward enough.
At the end of three days, we had our first critique. In an instant though, we could tell it was not going to go the way any of us had ever imagined.
“What is this?!”
“You all have to start over!”
“Work on your craft!”
The experience brought several of my newfound friends to tears.
It was a test we couldn’t win. The white of the museum board was easily scuffed by stray knife cuts and dirtied by any drop of extra glue. The thin quality of the material made it difficult to attach the other pieces from one edge to another.
The professors knew the impossible difficulty of making something “perfect.” Nothing was ever going to be perfect, but that wasn’t the point. The intent of the lesson was to teach us the value of exceptional craft in order to reach for something better. Even the most “perfect” of the resulting cubes we made had a minor deficiency or two.
As with my first project, my first semester was far from perfect. I struggled to find my footing. When the final grades were posted, a deep sense of shock and horror washed over me as I realized that my 4.0 GPA from High School had now plummeted to a 2.4. The kid who had an “A+” average for most of his life was staring back at a solid “C.”
The first steps of my idyllic career as an Architect were proving to be more challenging than I had anticipated.
Rather than deter my confidence though, that first semester left a lasting impression on me and gave me the jolt of inspiration I needed to do better.
Five years later in May 2008, I walked across the stage at the graduation ceremony with my head held high. I had transformed my college experience with hard work, determination, and a lot of coffee into something I was very proud of. I left that day with my Bachelor’s of Architecture Degree (graduating Magna Cum Laude) and a special commendation to recognize “Design Excellence” in my final Thesis Project.
As I looked around, the class of friends that had started with me all those years ago had dwindled by almost thirty percent. “We were the lucky ones,” I thought.
The Morning That Changed Everything
It was one of the last warm mornings in September 2015. I woke up and turned straight away to my phone to open my email Inbox. In the days prior, I completed this ritual several times with empty disappointment that the email had yet to arrive.
This day though, I was staring back at the email I had been waiting for nearly half my life.
A link directed me to the Architect Registration Exam’s website where my account had been “updated.” I swiftly sifted through the login screen and the first few pages. I soon arrived at the only one that mattered—"My Examination."
There was a moment before I saw the results. The urgency and excitement I had experienced in recent minutes of scrambling in the dark had turned into a profound calm. I took a deep breath, scrolled down the page.
“PASS.”
5 years of undergraduate studies. 7 years of work experience. 300+ hours of studying. 33+ hours of exam time over 7 tests.
I was done.
How Time Does Fly
As I write this, it’s been several years since I received that life-changing email.
It doesn't feel like much has changed, but I know in my bones that “I am an Architect.”
The journey to finally be allowed to say those words out loud was long and challenging. But in the end, it gave me confidence and helped me grow. I look back and recognize how I navigated an endeavor that few will ever attempt and even fewer will ever see through.
And yet, there is still so much for me to learn.
What It Means to Me
Being an Architect is not something I take lightly.
I remember when I first received my registration certificate from the State of New York in the mail. As I held it in my hands, I was filled equally with an intense sense of gratification and a profound commitment of responsibility to the people that I serve through design.
In every sense of the word, “Architecture” is a profession and its Architects exist, to improve the lives of others through the comforts of the built environment. I believe Architects are the keepers of this constructed world, the advocates of our culture—recording our time in history for the next generation.
For me, it's not about the license itself. Rather, my license acts as a tangible representation of my professional efforts. It reminds me of how much I've sacrificed, how hard I've worked, and how much freedom I have now that I'm looking back from the other side.
All I know is that being a licensed Architect is one of the highlights of my career and of my life. It brings me a sense of closure to the childhood dream I imagined so long ago.
I still have my old, museum board cube. It's slightly dusty and a little worn around the edges, but I hold on to it as a reminder where I’ve come from and what I’ve achieved.
I am an Architect.
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