Skip to main content

33 Percent

In this difficult time, I'm constantly looking for things to feel better about, or at least feel some optimism. I'm a firm believer that when things look the most bleak, you've got to dig down a bit further. You know: if you fall off the horse, get back up right away. It's too easy to lose perspective on your own situation when it doesn't take too much to realize that many other folks have it a lot worse than you do.
I worry that so many of my former students must have placed their dreams and hopes on hold. Every now and then I see another college graduate, with increasing debt, and a new job at a temp agency. If I were in the classroom full time these days, I wonder just how difficult it would be to motivate kids given that the goal of a college education, and it's benefits, just might look a little hollow right now. And then this: From a recent Harper's Index comes this little statistic:
• Chance that an American who earned a bachelor's degree in 2008 will be paying off student loans in 2028: 1 in 3
I started thinking about my own history of student loans. After all, I paid for my entire college education myself. Through a couple of part time jobs I financed my undergraduate years. Of course, even as a commuter student at UCLA, the price of gas was a fraction of what it is today. But then minimum wage was under $2.00. I think I made about $2.25 at best in those days. Tuition at the UC system was unbelievingly low compared to today's figures.
When I secured a couple of loans and grants so that I could attend graduate school at UC Berkeley, I was motivated by the promise that if I secured a teaching position, especially in an under-resourced district with a diverse student population, that much of my debt would be deferred. That never happened because the government changed it's mind. The notion of a "National Defense" student loan morphed into a monthly payment and it took me about 5 years to repay it given I was making about 10k a year back then. What a bargain compared to today's costs.


If education becomes too costly for 1 in 3, just imagine how costly it becomes without it. Are we a nation that can't seem to meet the needs of our people without weighing whether or not we can afford it? Afraid so.
No, I won't vent here. I'm too lost in thinking how fortunate I've been. As a first generation college graduate in my working class family, I'm actually happy I bought the picture. I swallowed that star-spangled dream that promised a better life. For me it worked, to a degree. Retired teachers are hardly the epitome of the landed gentry. But with very few teaching jobs, even fewer factory or technology jobs calling the U.S. home, what's that leave? Service industry?
This morning I chanced to look at some children's books in a bookstore. Fresh from monitoring an online discussion on the Teacher's Learning Network about those Little Golden Books we all had as beginning readers, I marveled at how some are still in print. There are a few with copyright dates in the late 1940s and early 50s. Of course there are newer ones, but some of those like The Night Before Christmas still exist in their original form. Then I found one called Daddies.


Yes it was sexist, with all the jobs that men do. Kids were getting the message that only men were doctors or worked in factories, or were cops. You get the picture. The original drawings were just as colorful and charming as I recall. Those Little Golden Books are real treasures. Then it hit me. Most of those jobs that those daddies went off to don't exist anymore. Some do, but many were exported. That little book takes on new meaning. It's now a historical document. The way it was.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...