the story of school

I'm sitting in class at the moment and suddenly I'm rather overwhelmed with the idea that college seems really pointless. Like, why am I here, learning about Marxism and hegemony and the Ideological State Apparatus? In theory, I really like abstract thinking. I really like making my brain hurt. My critical theory English class was one of my favorites. Well, sort of my favorite. I liked the subject a lot. I like this subject a lot-- critical theory as it relates to Dramatic Literature. In both cases, however, I find lectures and the members of my class unbelievably cloying. Almost unbearable, really.

Today our discussion has included the question of education: is it necessary, why is it necessary, who decides that it's necessary, what aspects of education are necessary, etc. I'm scheduled to graduate in April, and in light of my current academic standing, as well as my burning senioritis, these are questions which I ask myself on a daily basis. Two months left, and the daily grind is frankly almost enough to just chuck it. Who needs a dopey piece of paper to tell me, or anyone else, that I'm educated?

*

The fact is, I'm really not a great student. I'm smart, and I like to learn, but I don't play the academic game very well. I never have-- something to which my parents will attest. I've always been of the mindset, especially in college, that I'd rather have a well-rounded education, with the distinct recognition that "education" does not necessarily mean sitting through a lecture/discussion. For example, my involvement in nine theatrical productions in the last year and half has certainly taken up a lot of time I might have spent in the library, but how do I begin to convey what I did learn spending hours and hours in rehearsal, or driving around Utah in a van with the same seven people for a whole semester, or growing closer to my mom and sister?

So I get a B instead of an A. People are more important to me than little letters and numbers on a transcript.

*

I was in 5th grade the first time I forgot to do my homework before it was due. It was a math worksheet on lilac colored paper. My teacher asked us to turn it in and I was filled with a burning sense of dread that I only remember so well because I hate to admit, but I've felt it often since. My hand shot into the air and I asked if I could use the bathroom, please. I raced to my locker, where I had conveniently left it anyway, ran to the bathroom, and locked myself in a stall, where I proceeded to frantically work out the questions as quickly as I could, pencil squeaking as I wrote against the back of the red bathroom door. I didn't need the right answers, I just needed some answers, and some shoddy work to prove I had arrived at those answers somehow, all to be accomplished within an amount of time reasonable for me to use the bathroom. Hands shaking, I returned to class with the homework shoved in my pocket, pretended to retrieve it from my desk, and placed it on top of the pile. I think I ended up with a decent grade, too. Of course I don't remember the exact math concepts that were taught on that worksheet, but I learned two important things that day:

1. Any worksheet that can be completed in the amount of time it takes to use the bathroom is a waste of time, no matter how old you are.
2. How to procrastinate-- and get away with it.

*

From the get-go I'm going into this university education with a somewhat unconventional attitude. Considering I don't really have any interest in a very serious degree at a very serious school, I don't see this as a real problem. Combine it with the philosophy I've been raised on-- you don't go to college for a career; you go to college for an education.

Again, that mysical concept education...

If I wanted a career, I could go to a trade school and become a massage therapist in 7 months. Hypothetically, I don't have to have any formal training to have a career as an actor or a writer, just a lot of ambition, guts, and raw talent. An education teaches you how to think, how to contribute a little something to a teensy corner this enormous world.

I was blessed to come from parents who were music performance majors, so my major (Theatre, which was switched to English Literature) has never been questioned-- clearly because there's such financial security in both those fields, so they never have to worry. Studying English has certainly made me feel educated, whether I actually am or not, and regardless of a secure job offer after graduation. For some reason, the ability to write 15+ page papers on nerdy/useless topics like the historical, literary, and linguistic significance of the slang used by Louisa May Alcott in 19th century American literature is impressive to people. To me it's like, all in a day-- and I confess I shrug it off with a certain smug satisfaction that I'm actually smart and nerdy enough to write a paper like that. Admittedly, I'm also really impressed and humbled by people who do things like split atoms and discover mathmatical formulas, so tit for tat or something.

I feel educated. There is success there.

*

Feeling smart does not come without some resistence. Yesterday I was bemoaning my constant struggle with German. I have ceased feigning any enjoyment in German. I don't care about it anymore. I need the credits to graduate--I need a grade, and that is all. Mid-moan, Ames smiled at me and said, "Isn't free school a blessing?" I blinked and wanted to glare at him, and I probably did for a second-- enough to point out, "I only get half of school for free," thanks to my dad's employment at BYU. He said, "Then German is the free half. You're lucky!"

I didn't really want to admit that he's right, but he is. Of course, considering German as the free half of my education makes me feel a little wasteful (since I hate it) and more than a little guilty (since I hate it, and I haven't taken advantage of it). I can't decide if my fun classes should be the free ones, because then I'd be paying a lot of money for classes I don't like (to reiterate: German). There are a lot of people in the world who would like to have access to those free classes, German or otherwise. I am really lucky to have them. But I ask you-- what is it about (poorly) attaining a certain level of foreign language training (if you can call it that) that determines me "educated?" My English classes have intellectually stretched and stimulated me a lot, so why am I required to take Physical Science 100, which I have promptly forgotten anyway? Who decided this, and why, and when, and how is painfully sitting through them actually making me more educated?

Especially if it's free?

*

There's an episode of that TV show Pete & Pete that revolves around Y. Not so much the question "why?" or specifically the letter. I just remember Ellen sitting at her desk with a big Y written in her notebook, and her pen circling around and around and around that Y. She raised her hand in the middle of math class, stood up and asked (or proclaimed?), "Y?!" In my memory, Ellen's persistence with this question/statment started ticking off teachers, forcing them to leave one by one, being driven so crazy by her dedication to Y, since it's the only question/statement she would say in class, that they just couldn't take it anymore.

Lately, I've felt kind of passionate about Y, particularly since there seems to be double meaning in the fact that I attend BYU. In this Dramatic Literature class I just want to stand on the desk, stare my teacher in the face, and ask/say, "Y?!?!"

I don't remember how that episode ended. Some kind of resolution was made I'm sure, since the plot returned to the crazy antics of Pit Stain and Artie (the Strongest Man in the World) and Mom and the plate in Mom's head. I wish I could find some satisfactory answer/comeback to my own Y.

*

And I mean, okay-- let's assume I don't chuck it. I kill myself to walk across that stage and actually get that dopey piece of paper that allows me to sign my name, if I should choose to, Emily L. Dabczynski, B.A. What next? Is that it? The hierarchy of higher education says that's not it. If I really want to be a somebody, I need to be an M.A., and then a Ph.D. I guess I could get a law degree, and go to business school, and maybe tack on a few years of medical school because WHY NOT?! All of those fancy extra letters after my name look really impressive as I'm trying to, you know, have a family and maybe get a few essays published in a few obscure literary journals or something. 

Except, Emily L. Dabczynski, Esq. will always sound way more refined and snooty and awesome than boring old Emily L. Dabczynski, M.D., anyway. I guess the moral of the story here is that I need to come into some grand state of wealth and just become a property owner. Education be damned.