Good Sense

Melissa Dereberry's Blog

Archive for the category “Education”

Is College Overrated?

I grew up in a middle class home at a time when most of my peers were going to college.  After  spinning my wheels for a year or two, completely unprepared to make any kind of decision that might influence my future career, I decided to major in English, a subject that has never brought me great wealth, but has brought me great intellectual satisfaction.  For me, college was a journey in self-discipline, and it’s an intricate part of who I am.  I fully expected myself to marry another “academic type” and live out my days writing poetry and drinking martinis, driving a car with a five-star safety rating (not in that order, of course!).  But then I met my husband.  The word “safe” did not exist in his vocabulary.  He was a risk taker.  And, being a self-proclaimed neurotic, risk taking was not on my list of favorite things to do.  But, I understand its merits in a world that doesn’t particularly care if I can quote Shakespeare.  A world that is anything but safe.

We operate under the assumption that a college degree is a safety net, that it will launch us into the Dream.  For many, it’s the white collar world where we work eight hours a day, Monday through Friday, sitting at a desk.  But that just isn’t realistic.  So often, graduates find themselves in jobs they are “overqualified” for, earning less money than they owe in student loans.

College degrees are overrated. 

A survey by the National Association of Colleges and Employers in 2009 found that only about 20 percent of college graduates actively seeking employment actually had a job.  http://abcnews.go.com/Business/story?id=7636561&page=1

That’s one out of five college graduates.  I wonder how many of those who have jobs actually have jobs in their field.  Probably not many.

In a 2009 Chronicle of Higher Education article, Marty Nemko states, “All high-school students should receive a cost-benefit analysis of the various options suitable to their situations: four-year college, two-year degree program, short-term career-prep program, apprenticeship program, on-the-job training, self-employment, the military . . . A college should not admit a student it believes would more wisely attend another institution or pursue a non-college postsecondary option. Students’ lives are at stake, not just enrollment targets.”

(http://chronicle.com/article/Are-Too-Many-Students-Going-to/49039).

We’re not all college material, and we should never operate under the assumption that we are.  Students who shouldn’t be in college fail, struggle to chase an unrealistic ideal, and often end up with low GPAs in fields that do little to benefit their futures.  Often, they find themselves competing against those in their field who graduated with higher GPAs.  Finally, Nemko says colleges should avoid admitting those who should really be placed somewhere else. 

According to Richard Vedder, “A large subset of our population should not go to college, or at least not at public expense. The number of new jobs requiring a college degree is now less than the number of young adults graduating from universities, so more and more graduates are filling jobs for which they are academically overqualified.” (http://chronicle.com/article/Are-Too-Many-Students-Going-to/49039).

Are too many of us going to college?  According to Nemko, 70% of high school graduates now go to college in America, a 40% increase since 1970, resulting in increasing numbers of “unemployed and underemployed B.A.’s.”  Meanwhile, he points out, “there’s a shortage of tradespeople.”

We live in a disposable world.  We manufacture products for the short-term.  We don’t fix; we replace.  In the book Cheap, Ellen Shell describes our relationship with goods as a “voluntary obsolescence” that “makes craftsmanship beside the point.”  We have come to expect that things won’t last.  Eventually, no one will even know how to fix a refrigerator.  We need less—not more—people going to college.  We need people who know how to build quality products that will last, as well as people who can service those products.  People who are willing to be patient, and work hard.

Where do we go from here? I still believe in something called the American Dream, and it has less to do with how much money you make than with how much of yourself you put into what you’re doing.  My husband never went to college, but he has managed to build a successful business from the ground up because he believed in what he was doing, because he believed that Dream was still possible, the Dream of investing in yourself and your future.

The Hidden Significance of Frogs

            **Let me start by offering a bit of a disclaimer.  This piece is not intended as a jab at our public schools, nor any specific institutions in Rolla.  I appreciate the dedicated teachers who work hard, enduring often challenging classroom dynamics, for little pay.  I firmly believe that paying teachers what they are worth is the first step in solving many of the problems in our schools.  With that said…**

The fall fundraiser at my children’s elementary school was ushered in by the arrival of the frogs on Sept. 1.  The one-inch plastic frog charms, bearing all manner of costumes from cheerleaders to Batman, were given out as rewards for selling a number of items from the fundraiser, and kids all over the school proudly wore them on lanyards around their necks, traded them amongst each other, got caught up in who could collect the most and the coolest. Who knew ten cent toys would cause such a stir?  Barring the marketing brilliance behind such a scheme, I am troubled by the larger message these types of fundraisers send, especially when they are paired with even larger rewards for the top sellers.  Students this young are simply not capable of understanding the big picture—the future gain their school may have because of their efforts—which, sadly, leaves them pursuing materialistic gain.

The school held a special assembly the day the frogs were introduced.  I have no idea how they did it, but they managed to get my kids hopped up on froggy frenzy from the moment they came home that day, barging in the door, waving those fundraiser sheets in my face.  “Mom, are you gonna buy something?  Huh?  What do you want?”  I nodded.  Yes, sure.  But—it had to be right then and there.  After all, the frogs were coming.  I said, “But we have two weeks to turn it in.”  You’d have thought it was the end of the world, the thought of not claiming one the next day.  This particular fundraiser was for the repair and upgrade of the school playground—a worthy endeavor.  So I gave in.  I loaded them up in the car and went around the neighborhood.  We sold a few things, enough to get them a few frogs.  Done deal.

A few days later, I began to realize the hidden significance of frogs.

Frogs are a status symbol. 

Do you see a story emerging here?

The story goes something like this:  “Oh, she doesn’t have any frogs.  But I have three.” 

How did we get from raising money to fix our playground to excluding or ridiculing someone because she doesn’t have a plastic trinket around her neck?

And the pressure to sell ensues.  Are we educating or training salespeople?  Are we teaching teamwork and self-esteem or mindless work, selfishness and materialism?  This is not the kind of peer pressure I should have to worry about.

Apparently, the stakes in these fundraisers go far beyond frog charms.  I encountered a friend’s post on Facebook today, complaining about a similar fundraiser, in which the kids who sold a certain number of items were going to be invited to a special assembly.  The rest would not be invited.  Several people commented on the negative implications of such a “deal.”  One woman noted that these types of fundraising/reward systems were a longstanding problematic “philosophy” in the schools, and that she and many parents of her generation had opted out of fundraisers entirely, in favor of a yearly monetary donation to the school, of which a certain amount would be dedicated to a special event or party for all students.

Granted, the schools need money.  Understood.  As much as 20% of the Rolla Public Schools funding comes from “other sources”—which would, presumably, include such things as private donations, fundraisers and the like.  But one has to ponder the cognitive dissonance of a situation that urges kids to solicit money from their friends and family when roughly 50% of these students are eligible for free and reduced lunches and nearly a half million dollars a year is shelled out for athletic programs*. 

There is simply no logic in it.  Sorry.  The fact of the matter is this:  These fundraisers teach our kids little about the purpose or value of hard work; they promote neither teamwork nor self-worth.   Instead, they teach them the concept of have and have-nots, and that things have way more value than self worth.  As many as 50% of these kids simply can’t sell these items because they don’t know anyone who can afford them.  So, they are out of luck and that is just sad.

I have a stack of boxes in my storage room where I keep my kids’ artwork, certificates, and schoolwork each year.  I don’t keep everything, but the ones that stand out—the extra special ones, the 100% ones—those get saved.  Someday, I will clean out that storage room, years from now, perhaps when my children are getting ready to leave home for college.  I picture us, gathered around the boxes, going through the papers and pictures, having a few laughs.  I’ll pull out a wonderfully colored page that my daughter made—a picture of a princess with a crown that says, “My name is Abby and I am pridi and nic [pretty and nice].”  A million dollar sentiment from an average kid who knows what she is worth.  There will be hundreds of these—touching words, endearing scribbles—and there won’t be a single frog in the box.

*The website for the Rolla Public Schools District Report Card 2009-10:

http://rolla.k12.mo.us/fileadmin/rpsweb/home/District/ReportCard/2011_Report_Card.pdf

The number of students eligible for free and reduced lunches in Rolla Elementary schools:  Truman (58.9%), Wyman (51.8%), Mark Twain (49.3%).

Total athletic activities:  $429,382.71.

The $10,000 Question

A few nights ago, I found myself literally mesmerized by an episode of the Animal Planet series, Fatal Attractions, a show about people who have exotic animals as pets.  The program featured two people who kept venomous snakes in their homes.  Both of these individuals had a long standing attraction to reptiles going back to childhood.  To be brief, one of them got bitten by his pet Cobra and survived; the other one got bitten by her pet Gaboon Viper and died.  (At this point, if you are like me, you are probably cringing at the mere thought of it).  Like many people, I have an intense dislike of snakes.  I get freaked out even looking at pictures of them.  So, it was an odd and slightly twisted curiosity that I sat there, in my comfy socks and pajamas, watching a program about people who have the creepy creatures as pets.  Honestly, I think I was freaked out to the point of passive, near-comatose viewing.  But, by the end of it, I was actually starting to think, of all things, about destiny.

I wasn’t particularly surprised to learn that there are crazy people in the world, those whose judgment is so defunct that they have pets capable of killing them with a single bite, those who completely bypass the boundary of sanity by free handling lethal snakes.  We live in a weird world.  These things don’t really shock me.  What intrigues me is that the fate of both of these people seemed eerily pre-determined.  Both showed very clear signs early in life—by say, age five or six—that they had a near abnormal interest in reptiles.  The families of both individuals indicated the early fascination with stories, photos of both children, holding various reptiles.  They were ostracized and ridiculed for their hobby their entire lives.  That childhood fascination morphed into an unnatural obsession for these individuals, and for one of them, the result was fatal.  It is also interesting to note that both of them believed they were special, that they held some special ability to connect with these animals; the woman even believed she was immune to venom. 

The whole story makes me wonder:  Do people have a special calling, and what constitutes success in life?  While I don’t believe that poor woman was put on earth for the sole purpose of picking up a poisonous snake, getting bitten, and dying, I do believe she had a unique tendency toward working with snakes.  She was also somewhat of a snake expert.  She had researched, studied and observed them her entire life.  She was training for a job at the local zoo.  Snakes were her simply her niche and it appeared to make her happy.  She chose a field that she loved, made it her career, pursued it to her death.  Success?

Did her destiny somehow originate in the way she was wired?

I am reminded of Phillipe Petit, a French daredevil who crossed between the Twin Towers on a high wire in 1974.  Petit survived his stunt, only to be arrested for his actions.  He went on to perform high wire acts throughout his life.  He continues to give lectures and workshops on various topics, and he has received numerous accolades and awards.  The man’s 1974 journey is featured in the 2008 documentary Man on Wire.  It is one of the most fascinating films I’ve ever seen.  I challenge anyone to watch it and not believe, wholeheartedly, in the concept of destiny by the end of the film.  Petit was, without a doubt, meant to be the man who walked a wire hundreds of feet in the air, high above the streets of New York City.  No one had ever done it.  Most likely, no one else ever will.  He had achieved his unique destiny.  Had he fallen to his death, he would have still met that destiny, in another way.  He would have still been the lone man on that wire.

I have thought a lot about this topic over the last few years.  It is exciting to think about my own destiny, but that excitement is multiplied exponentially when I look at my children.  It is exciting, but also daunting.  What if my child was meant to do something I don’t particularly like?  What if—God forbid—he  was designed to do something dangerous?  What if he was made to free solo rock climb, base jump, or build skyscrapers?  How do I prepare my child for the area in which he will inherently succeed?

Is talent something we are born with it?  Is it earned or learned?  Probably a combination of things.  In Malcolm Gladwell’s book, Outliers, he introduces a concept he calls the 10,000 hour rule, which basically says that people who are really successful in anything have put in at least 10,000 hours doing it.  To give you an idea how long that is, there are 8,760 hours in a year.  If you played basketball for 24 hours straight, every day for 416.66 days, you would reach the 10,000 hour threshold.  Realistically speaking, if you put in five hours a week playing basketball, it would take you thirty-eight years to reach the threshold.  Double the number of hours per week, and you reach it in just under twenty years.  For an eight year old kid to reach the threshold by the time he is twenty, he would have to put in a whopping 16 hours per week.  While Gladwell writes about other factors that influence success, such as being in the right place at the right time, and inborn talents, he believes the 10,000 hour rule is a common denominator, demonstrated again and again in the careers of many successful athletes, business people, and entertainers.  In other words, talent and success take a lot of hard work.  We aren’t just born with it.

These concepts could revolutionize the way we educate our children.  What if our kids had the opportunity, early in life, to develop in areas most suited to their interest and aptitude?  My child has a strong interest in rocks, for instance.  What if he could embark on and educational path custom fit with geology at the helm?  What could he accomplish by the time he goes to college?  If we espouse the notion that everyone has a unique calling, do we allow the hours and experience that, according to Gladwell, might seal the deal?  How far do we go?  Do we push one area to the neglect of others?  Do we allow our children to pursue areas that we don’t particularly like or value? 

The element of risk is astounding, isn’t it?  We can put in 10,000 hours painting pictures that will never see the light of day, 10,000 hours climbing mountains, making sculptures, or studying rocks, and these activities may never earn us a dime.  If our chosen area is a dangerous one, we may even die doing it, fall to our death doing what we love.  And the only question that will remain—the $10,000 question—is this:  Did we succeed?  

-Melissa Dereberry

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