Don't send children to college

Better yet, don't raise kids so that they're still infants at 18.
“Well, we had to get Kyle moved into to his dorm, register for classes, pick his schedule, tour the campus, find out where his classes are, get him linens and a dorm fridge, meet his roommate, and go to parent orientation.” Post after post making moving into a dorm and registering for classes sound like a Homeric poem. “Well first we had to get Kyle on a ship that would not be crushed on the rocks by the songs of the sirens and then we had to get him a sword and a shield so he could kill a cyclops. I read where this one guy used his shield as a mirror to cut off Medusa’s head, so we’re going to Costco later to see if they carry that one...”
My folks didn't do this kind of thing, to put it mildly. Even so, I was a child and a mess when I went off to college, putting myself in needless peril. It would have been a lot worse if I'd never earned any money or learned how to spend it.

Not that it was a time to act like a conservative 50-year-old:  I'm glad I got the chance to experiment before I was calcified. I was lucky that college was still a protected space where I could concentrate on learning and didn't have to worry much about room and board, let alone about supporting a family. The summers were a time to get a job and pay for an apartment, learn how to shop for groceries and cook, how to stretch a dollar.

By the time I graduated, I was still a child and a mess, but at least I could keep body and soul together using my own paycheck. There was no serious danger of my going back to live in my parents' basement until I was 35, nor did I know anyone caught in that trap. While we sorted ourselves out, we'd rent hovels together and share the expenses. The economy was rotten, but we never had that much trouble making it work.

5 comments:

MikeD said...

Parents treat their (presumptive) adult offspring as a child, don't be surprised that they remain a child. My parents dropped me off with my clothes, sheets off my bed from home, towels and let me sort the rest of it out. Not to say I was a fully formed and capable adult. I made foolish decisions and mistakes, and within a year and a half I had flunked out (due to non-attendance) and joined the Army. Of the two experiences, I found my 5 years in the Army far more rewarding, fulfilling, and useful. I finished my degree after my service, but the college experience was MUCH easier with some actual life experience under my belt.

NOT that I'd ever advocate for compulsory service. I think that's a dreadful idea and would actively harm military readiness to have soldiers who desperately want to be anywhere else. But in my case (and by my own decisions) it was a wonderful way to learn "how to adult".

Grim said...

An old Iraq comrade of mine is a big advocate for labor unions on this point. Become a master electrician, get paid while you learn, then pull reasonably big checks the rest of your life.

Anonymous said...

One of the regional farm equipment companies is advertising an apprenticeship program for high school juniors and seniors that guarantees a job if they graduate from HS and finish the training. Since many of the high schools no longer offer vo-tech, especially not mechanical vo-tech, it sounds like a great plan. Job, no debt, and portable skills - that's hard to beat.

LittleRed1

RonF said...

When I went to school at MIT - a school where the pressure on students is rather high - my parents bought me a heavy coat, made sure I packed enough clothes, told me they loved me, and drove me to the airport. I got picked up by a couple of MIT students who had volunteered for the duty and got taken to my temporary dorm room.

In the ensuing week I oriented myself around campus, selected my own schedule, bought my own books, picked out someplace to live, moved in, and had Mom and Dad ship me out the rest of my clothes. And this is pretty much how I treated my own two kids, who somehow both managed to graduate with engineering degrees anyway.

E Hines said...

You got to fly? I rode the bus. No one met me; I walked from the bus station to the campus. Fortunately, it was a small town. The first couple years, my book money came from the poker table; the last couple years from my ROTC scholarship.

My parents did cover my tuition and fees for two semesters; all the rest came from summer jobs and that scholarship. In truth, though, they would have covered all 8 semesters, had I not had those jobs and the scholarship, but they'd also spent a (my) lifetime teaching me a modicum of ethics and personal responsibility.

Eric Hines