I spend a lot of my time thinking about my education; thinking about how smart I am (or not), how educated I am (or not), in relation to others and in relation to my own expectations. I have a bachelor's degree from a fairly well-respected university, I've dabbled in graduate courses, alternate bachelor programs, both at the same university and it's little brother community college. My parents were well-educated, and I was raised to expect a college career. I sell books for a living. At a chain. A nation-wide leader in book sales, but a store in the mall, after all. I read what I sell, I love what I sell, but I'm just selling it, not teaching it, not editing it, and not writing it. And my paycheck comes, whether or not I sell it exceptionally well or just well enough. Although it happens fairly rarely, I love answering the question "What have you read and loved lately?" Unfortunately, I am more often asked "Where is your non-fiction section?", and this by seemingly mature, well-educated patrons whom one would assume had a fair acquaintance with the varieties of non-fiction and the basic layout of any bookstore. Even more disheartening is the frequent puzzlement in the face of the customer unfamiliar with the definition of "non-fiction." "But it's a history of dragons. It's research!" Of course I cannot claim to be an expert in every field for which I sell a book. If you require a medical text or the latest research on peak oils, I am happy to use the database before me along with any details you can supply, and I will defer to your judgment of the best title available. But, unlike selling shoes or novelty beer steins, I am daily confronted with products of knowledge, a vast array of the world's information set down on paper for the ages, from what we as a people feel is innovative, worthy of remembering, entertaining, elucidating, smart, or funny. From fixing your plumbing to elevating your soul (be it Dante or Bombeck), I am selling it. Thinking about how much I know is something I do every day.
And here comes Professor X. Neither is he at the top of the educated elite, not a tenured professor, nor even on the tenured track. He has not published the novels he expected he would, has not lived the academic achievements he had once envisioned for himself. And yet he's spent his career teaching his passion, although he's done it in community college basements and dark high school classrooms after hours, and usually to students unwilling to be there. He posits that the majority of his students, enrolled because they need the artificially inflated certificate to pursue their career, have no business in a college writing course; they did not meet high school writing standards when they graduated, and they will not need college writing standards to become nursing aids, police officers, and mechanics. Their money, time, and energy are wasted on skills they do not need and do not have the academic background to accomplish. This critique, at first, seems harsh and oh so un-American. Obama himself is preaching the need for higher education available to everyone. But Professor X, through persuasive comparison, observation, cited statistics and a bit of personal memoir, convinced me that his job as adjunct is a filler for the huge gap between optimistic American opportunity and the too-true fact that not everyone is college material. But everyone can easily acquire massive amounts of student loan debt, whether they graduate or not, and, in community college, most do not. Professor X compares this education "bubble" with the housing crisis of the last decade, as the Bush administration pushed the middle-class towards home ownership -- affordable housing for all, heedless to the fact that one shouldn't own a home one can't afford. It's so obvious, but we refused to see! But if feels so good to offer a beautiful home to a well-intentioned family, as it feels good to offer previously inaccessible educations to well-meaning, aspiring young people.
At times, Professor X's writing got a bit circular, as he covered the same laments from a dozen different angles. His tone ranges from empathetic to cocky to whiny. But his thesis is persuasive, and I feel his pain. As long as the Mexican standoff continues between colleges vs industry vs under-prepared students vs American idealism, at least Professor X has job security, where most of us don't, even with certificates and diplomas in hand. I've got my share of certificates, but I keep going back for more, as this retail gig looks a bit tenuous these days. We'll keep selling copies of Catcher in the Rye to nursing students, Don Quixote to forensic aid students, and, now and then, a copy to someone who wants to read it.
And now I'm working towards a graduate degree in library science. After 11 years in bookselling, I'm wondering how much the degree will make me a better book-person, teach me information I couldn't learn on the job, but in this job market, I can't even get an interview in this college town without a degree. I chose an English degree back in the early 90's, when earning a useless degree didn't much matter, as long as you earned something. Nobody asked me, "Just what do you think you'll do with an English degree?" Reading books seemed a cozy way to get through the 4+ years I was expected to endure. I was able to pay my tuition with only a handful of aid, paying term to term, with part-time work, in a way that is unfathomable today. A senior in high school today better know just exactly where they're going before those bills start coming in. There's no time for lazy English majors now. So what do I expect for my kids? I can't expect them to pay for it term to term; I won't be able to do it, either. Will a bachelor's degree be worth the price paid? Will it make their lives easier or more burdened? Can I practice what I preach and allow my sons to put off college (perhaps forever) until they know what they want, like I wished I had done? Non-traditional, middle-aged students are becoming more common than ever, as jobs require more certifications, companies downsize, adults switch careers in the middle of their lives, excessive debt requires promotable skills or second jobs. Professor X makes some surprising conclusions, perhaps some that are controversial or inconsistent, but he's raising some issues we all need to think about, as students, as parents, as optimistic Americans who may have an unrealistic view of what we are capable and what we desire.