Excerpted from an interview with Kim Addonizio on the Poetry Foundation website.

I think MFAs are fine, on one level. I just think that some people view them as some sort of imprimatur: I’ve done an MFA, so now I’m a Real Writer. A professional writer, sanctioned by some higher power. But I believe that poetry is an art and a vocation, not a profession. Frankly, a lot of people in MFA programs are bad writers. MFAs are cash cows for some institutions of higher learning. They can be good places to develop, and maybe save some people some time—yes, discipline and time to read and focused writing, and finding a community and maybe a mentor or two. Doing an MFA can help you feel that you’re moving forward, accomplishing something. There are a myriad ways to get better, different ways at different times, and only you know what will work for you—whether you need the structure of a program, or can take classes at the local college or university, or set yourself a course of reading and study on your own or through a low-residency program. But here’s an interesting thing. I’ve taught in all kinds of venues and have found that talent is pretty much the same all over. Out of any group of people—whether they are taking a private group, attending a writers conference, a community college, or in a graduate program—most of them have been bad to mediocre, and a few have stood out as having some sort of spark in their language and some sort of depth of ability and feeling and sensibility and intellect, and the dedication and drive to nurture that spark. Most of the people I went to graduate school with back in the eighties are no longer pursuing writing. At the time, every one of them seemed committed to becoming a writer. Some of us just continued to write because we needed to, no matter what, and other people figured out that they could make more money, or have more fun or fulfillment, doing something else. I learned a lot by getting a Master’s in English/Creative Writing, but it was only the beginning of my education as a writer. Most of it, after that, I learned on my own, and as I said previously, there are those deficiencies—the people I haven’t read, the theories I’m not conversant with, the things that, had I had a better education—maybe gotten a Ph.D.—I might not feel were such gaps in my understanding now.

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I know that there are fine poets in the academy who are also good, committed teachers. I don’t have anything against MFAs or academic institutions, I just know I don’t belong there, and that their structure and function and nature seem to me intrinsically inimical to art. As is our culture. ...