When I was a child, my parents were always there with a nugget of wisdom or piece of advice to help me through difficult times or struggles. They impressed upon me that no matter what the current hardship was, life would get better down the line. One of the more frequent things my mum would say to me whenever I was complaining about the latest high-school injustice was that “your college years will be the best years of your life.”
As the end of my second year approaches, that promise has so far rung surprisingly hollow.
For me, it’s been a long, senseless grind toward a distant light at the end of the tunnel — the blinders keep me focused on that diploma. It’s a pre-programmed course, set to take me over the same path that the multitudes before me have traveled. I’m nestled into a bogus environment, created for the sole purpose of taking the money of students while teaching them next to nothing. The nirvana of open minds and fascinating subject matter I had hoped and expected to discover turns out to be just a mindless stepping stone.
My family was a close-knit group when I was growing up, and I consider myself a “family man.” I regret not being there for my little sister’s basketball games and being unable to take Mum out for breakfast on Mother’s Day. So I stay in touch the way any other distant relative would, via phone conversations and e-mail. Apart from drinking in the sounds of much-loved voices, every call I get from my parents or the rest of the real world seems to consist of mostly gloomy news: John lost his job; the Smiths are getting divorced; Bill was taken by cancer. Locked into the perfect little dream world that is the college experience, being funded by a scholarship that I was lucky to receive, I’m removed from the realities of life and the troubles and concerns of my community. All that matters is collecting the expected, predetermined marks that will eventually allow me to graduate.
I’m an average student. I have decent smarts, but 90 percent of the time I just don’t see the relevance of the classes I have to take. This term, I’m taking 21 credits, which, as any student can tell you, is essentially social suicide. With rushing from class to class, meeting with other students outside of class to discuss group projects, and the relentless torrent of homework, I spend most of my time getting “educated.” No time for my friends, no time for the ladies and no time to research accommodations for next year. The one thing keeping me sane through all this is the existence of intramural sports and the occasional evening of basketball.
Thankfully, my hard work appears to be paying off this term, and I’m projected to finish with a socially acceptable, nice healthy 3.4 GPA. This is important because no matter how irrational the college system is, it’s still a very significant distinction when an individual is being considered for a future job. The U.S. Census Bureau has determined that on average, a college graduate makes $52,200 a year, while a high school graduate makes only $30,400. That’s a difference of $21,800. However, not even that increased salary is guaranteed nowadays. The economic downturn has ensured that the job market stays stagnant, meaning that instead of being able to pick and chose their jobs upon graduation, college students are pitted against each other in a death match of competing resumes. The line separating me from a successful journalism career and a lifetime of bagging groceries at Safeway isn’t as wide as you’d think. I could have that expensive piece of paper framed on my wall and still be flipping burgers at the local Carl’s Jr.
Despite the success on the grade front and the steady progress I’m making toward the all-important graduation, this is easily the most unhappy I’ve been in my two years at the University. My classes are a joke, consisting of pointless questions designed to determine how much of the irrelevant information that’s been force-fed to us we’ve managed to retain. I’m not preparing to join the industry of journalism, I’m paying the salaries of faculty that have been there, done that and bought the T-shirt. The professors aren’t trying to educate me; they’re merely going through the motions so they can earn their paycheck and provide for their own families. The University doesn’t care about me or my journey through higher education; it’s too busy raising parking ticket prices to fund a stadium that will be the new home of a still sub-par basketball team.
College is no longer in the business of education; it’s in the business of big business. Rather than focusing on getting the students the tools they need to succeed in the corporate world, it’s instead degenerated into a series of hoops that the average student has to jump through, completing a sequence of random and pointless actions for a piece of paper that supposedly makes them more qualified than a high school graduate.
Is this really what being a college student in the 21st century is all about?
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