Mary and I chuckle now as we recall the satisfying high five we exchanged while sporting graduation gowns several years ago. We had completed three years of intense artistic training, installed our thesis projects, and passed the oral exam that rounded out our Master's of Fine Art (MFA) degrees. Earning the MFA, the terminal degree in the studio arts, was a scholarly accomplishment that reflected our commitment to creating thought-provoking art. Moving forward with our lives, Mary and I resigned from peer-driven discussions, rigorous engagements with creative work, and the camaraderie we shared in our university studios. We left our academic artistic community with nearly perfect grade point averages and a better understanding of how to approach the elusive, theoretical, conceptual, yet now slightly less mysterious, professional art world beyond the university's campus.A few years ago, I called Mary. We assembled more stories of isolation, rejection, and selfdoubt. Out of school, we were now in the professional world, exhausted and broke, not to mention spiritually bereft. As was typical among my peers, I was a studio art MFA graduate unprepared for the often artless living of contemporary American life. Mary and I shared what appeared to be a prevalent sensation of disconnect between a life motivated by innovative theory and creative production and our lives in general. Over time, our inspired, thoughtful artistic intentions were replaced with resentment. I began to question how the experience of earning an MFA degree so elegantly framed such naive expectations.I knew it was unacceptable that the handful of degrees I had earned during my years of study within higher education afforded a life disconnected from each institution's distinct mission. As my inquiry intensified, I was becoming less motivated to make art. What, exactly, do art students want to gain from an MFA program? I wondered if the curricular planning for MFA programs actively took into account helping students grow as creative citizens of the world.