2008 Woodie Awards
Education pays off, if only in long run
Chris Hatch
Issue date: 1/17/08 Section: Opinion
I'm halfway excited for the start of this semester.
There, I've said it. "Gotten it off my chest" is more like it. Those who know me understand how big of a step that is for me.
I've been a hater of school for a long time and have only recently come to realize that I am at least partially excited to begin learning again. It's not that I don't like to learn. Far from it, in fact.
It has to do with my previous belief that school had a hand in ruining things that I previously enjoyed such as reading, writing and the pursuit of knowledge outside of the Discovery Channel.
What has changed, you ask? What could lead someone with a dislike for the collegiate system, someone who would rather French kiss a rabid wolverine than attend a lecture feel anything other than trepidation toward returning to school?
Real life. Real, low-paid, sweaty, under-appreciated life.
I used to be one of those kids who didn't really go to class much. I didn't enjoy it, and I didn't think school was really helping me at all. After dragging through two semesters last year at Wichita State University, I wasn't sure if I really had what it took to continue on with the whole "college thing."
About the only thing keeping me in school was the fact that I knew society and - more frighteningly - my employers damn near required it. So I went through the motions. Mailed it in. I was less convincing than a C-list sci-fi star. When I did go to class, I sat there, mind atrophying, eyes grainy, thinking how my life was being held hostage by a communications' degree.
I would writhe in my seat with each click of the PowerPoint presentation. It seemed as though college had become a gauntlet - we all have to take our share of beatings to get where we wanted to go in life. I thought we were supposed to get jumped into gangs, not 400-level courses. As soon as class was over, I'd dash for the door like a convict escaping for freedom. College was my own personal Lizzie Borden, hacking my belief in education to pieces.
Then something happened. As I continued to become disenfranchised by school, I decided to try something, anything, to get a degree.
In hindsight, I was stalling and trying to figure out my life. It was during this self-imposed intellectual exile that I learned about life without an education. I began to work at a place called Da Cajun Shak. True to its name, "Da Shak" as I called it, was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant - actually, I've seen nice holes in a lot of walls. The food could best be described as "fried everything." They would've fried their napkins if given the opportunity.
Unable to find work and out of money, I had been hired on as a dishwasher/cook for minimum wage. The title "dishwasher/cook" might as well have been more aptly titled "the guy who does way too much for one person to handle."
I constantly dashed from the sink to the fryer and back again, even going to get my boss's obligatory cigarettes and energy drink. It was quite the reality check for my ego when I realized that this was the only place that hired me.
As I sweated through a summer of cleaning, I realized the place was dirtier than most of the refugee camps you see on CNN.
I got plenty of life tips, though.
"People ask me how I handle having eight kids, Chris," my boss would say. "You know what I tell them? I drink. A lot."
It soon became apparent to me that the owners of Da Shak probably believed they had spelled the name of their restaurant correctly. Once the "new help" got out on parole and joined me in the kitchen, I began to feel differently. In fact, I began to get very worried about my future without a degree.
The Grinch's heart supposedly grew three sizes while he heard the Who's singing. My brain grew three sizes when I heard the constant shouts of Cajun gibberish. All of a sudden, school didn't seem so bad. In fact, school started to seem pretty damn interesting. It was then that I realized why we need school. Why I had been so dumb to not understand that in the long run, school is a privilege?
I haven't quite learned my lesson completely. School still has its bad moments. Some classes still seem pointless and might not seem to teach me much on the surface. I'm sure I'll complain aloud when rolling out of bed for an early class about how horrible lectures are. However, any time I find myself beginning to talk about how I don't need school anymore, I catch myself. I remind myself that college isn't a roadblock, but rather just a stop in life that I better enjoy, because soon enough, it will be all over.
I remember working with my arms elbow-deep in greasy water next to my parolee co-worker swearing about cutting gator.
I remember: Things could always be worse.
Chris Hatch is a junior news-editorial major. Reach him at chrishatch@dailynebraskan.com.
There, I've said it. "Gotten it off my chest" is more like it. Those who know me understand how big of a step that is for me.
I've been a hater of school for a long time and have only recently come to realize that I am at least partially excited to begin learning again. It's not that I don't like to learn. Far from it, in fact.
It has to do with my previous belief that school had a hand in ruining things that I previously enjoyed such as reading, writing and the pursuit of knowledge outside of the Discovery Channel.
What has changed, you ask? What could lead someone with a dislike for the collegiate system, someone who would rather French kiss a rabid wolverine than attend a lecture feel anything other than trepidation toward returning to school?
Real life. Real, low-paid, sweaty, under-appreciated life.
I used to be one of those kids who didn't really go to class much. I didn't enjoy it, and I didn't think school was really helping me at all. After dragging through two semesters last year at Wichita State University, I wasn't sure if I really had what it took to continue on with the whole "college thing."
About the only thing keeping me in school was the fact that I knew society and - more frighteningly - my employers damn near required it. So I went through the motions. Mailed it in. I was less convincing than a C-list sci-fi star. When I did go to class, I sat there, mind atrophying, eyes grainy, thinking how my life was being held hostage by a communications' degree.
I would writhe in my seat with each click of the PowerPoint presentation. It seemed as though college had become a gauntlet - we all have to take our share of beatings to get where we wanted to go in life. I thought we were supposed to get jumped into gangs, not 400-level courses. As soon as class was over, I'd dash for the door like a convict escaping for freedom. College was my own personal Lizzie Borden, hacking my belief in education to pieces.
Then something happened. As I continued to become disenfranchised by school, I decided to try something, anything, to get a degree.
In hindsight, I was stalling and trying to figure out my life. It was during this self-imposed intellectual exile that I learned about life without an education. I began to work at a place called Da Cajun Shak. True to its name, "Da Shak" as I called it, was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant - actually, I've seen nice holes in a lot of walls. The food could best be described as "fried everything." They would've fried their napkins if given the opportunity.
Unable to find work and out of money, I had been hired on as a dishwasher/cook for minimum wage. The title "dishwasher/cook" might as well have been more aptly titled "the guy who does way too much for one person to handle."
I constantly dashed from the sink to the fryer and back again, even going to get my boss's obligatory cigarettes and energy drink. It was quite the reality check for my ego when I realized that this was the only place that hired me.
As I sweated through a summer of cleaning, I realized the place was dirtier than most of the refugee camps you see on CNN.
I got plenty of life tips, though.
"People ask me how I handle having eight kids, Chris," my boss would say. "You know what I tell them? I drink. A lot."
It soon became apparent to me that the owners of Da Shak probably believed they had spelled the name of their restaurant correctly. Once the "new help" got out on parole and joined me in the kitchen, I began to feel differently. In fact, I began to get very worried about my future without a degree.
The Grinch's heart supposedly grew three sizes while he heard the Who's singing. My brain grew three sizes when I heard the constant shouts of Cajun gibberish. All of a sudden, school didn't seem so bad. In fact, school started to seem pretty damn interesting. It was then that I realized why we need school. Why I had been so dumb to not understand that in the long run, school is a privilege?
I haven't quite learned my lesson completely. School still has its bad moments. Some classes still seem pointless and might not seem to teach me much on the surface. I'm sure I'll complain aloud when rolling out of bed for an early class about how horrible lectures are. However, any time I find myself beginning to talk about how I don't need school anymore, I catch myself. I remind myself that college isn't a roadblock, but rather just a stop in life that I better enjoy, because soon enough, it will be all over.
I remember working with my arms elbow-deep in greasy water next to my parolee co-worker swearing about cutting gator.
I remember: Things could always be worse.
Chris Hatch is a junior news-editorial major. Reach him at chrishatch@dailynebraskan.com.
Viewing Comments 1 - 2 of 2
Scott
posted 1/17/08 @ 11:45 AM CST
Our culture will always whisper in your ear "remind yourself that college/work/kids/retiring/nursing-home isn't a roadblock, but rather just a stop in life that you better enjoy, because soon enough, it will be all over. (Continued…)
Observer
posted 2/06/08 @ 1:52 PM CST
Two things:
(1) Your writing is horrible.
(2) You aren't actually trying to give the impression that people without college degrees live miserable lives, are you? Perhaps your situation had more to do with who YOU are, and not how much education you've obtained. (Continued…)
Post a Comment