Lower Education

Even the XXXL Clothing company is making fun of us

I have mixed feeling about the new NBC comedy Community. On the one hand, I am extremely flattered they made a show about my unexpected return to education. On the other hand, I disapprove of the writers’ characterization of the student body as a mélange of misfits and people with behavioral disorders.

Having attended both private art academies, with their hefty tuitions and the entitled students that can afford it, as well as community college, where the students often have to work to put themselves through school and most certainly will have to get a job afterwards, I feel more than a little defensive about the assumptions that are made in the name of comedy.

Granted, community college is not like a typical University. The student body varies widely in age, demographic, and general background. As a 30 year old returning to school, I am certainly not among the youngest students, but I am also not alone. I am one of many adults that have decided to reorient their career path towards something more stable or more lucrative. I am usually about the median age in a class, and I am not the only person who has already graduated from college.

I know where the shows’ creators are coming from. (I once referred to a friend's former community college as his alma mater, much to his embarrassment). There is, without a doubt, a stigma attached to community college. For one thing, there is often not really an admissions policy—I was “accepted” to the school merely by registering online and saying that I had completed high school—so the pride one might feel by getting accepted to a University is a bit watered down. For another, the sense of ‘community’ that one actually feels is lessened by the fact that many students are only attending part-time. This means it takes them much longer to complete their curriculum, and it means their schedules are more erratic—a reflection of the students’ work schedules outside of school. Ironically, a 4-year college is going to be much better at fostering a community, where friends and peers move in lockstep towards graduation and often remain friends for life.

This is not to say that I haven’t made any friends at my new school. I sort of have. The point is the very attitude of many of my classmates is different than it was among the fledgling artists I schooled with previously. Whereas college was a social rite of passage and an excuse to experiment, community college is just one more thing we have to get through to get paid. It’s not an escape from your parents’ house, or a place you go to party. It’s a goal-based education, and it feels like job training. It’s ok to make friends, but that isn’t why we’re here.

So, why are we here? If the show or the clichéd opinions surrounding community college are to be believed, it is because we fucked up. We dropped out of highschool. We got kicked out of a better college, or are too poor or too stupid to get into one. We made horrible decisions when we were younger. We invested $100,000 in an arts education and can’t seem to get a good return on it.

In a way, these things are true. But I worry they are voiced in a way that belies the optimism inherent in trying to get an education. By cynically sneering at someone who has changed their mind, or is trying to change their life, we miss the point and with it all the good aspects of community college.

You won’t find a lot of wealthy students at community college. You won’t find a lot of former valedictorians, or even the kind of people who could have coasted through their schooling. But this is exactly why community colleges are so important—they are an opportunity for those less fortunate and less prepared for a University education straight out of high school. They are an affordable way for people to better their lives.

Making the decision to go back to school, and to stick with it, is a difficult and worthy endeavor. For many of my classmates—myself included—this is their second chance to have a career they can be proud of. They can earn a decent wage for once. They can learn better study habits and complete something. They can accomplish their goals. The effects of these things cannot be measured. They are invaluable to the individual that achieves them. And the attempts at this are certainly nothing to make fun of.

It is true that not everyone will make it. Some of the people will just not have the skills or the support to finish. But this is no different than the fancy art academies I attended, or the University where I teach. None of them are foolproof, and they all have plenty of fools. I only hope that the writers of Community understand this and, in subsequent episodes, will attempt to portray some of the characters with the bit of pride and dignity they deserve. After all, no one is making us go to community college. We chose to do it, and I doubt any of us will regret it.

I would like to thank David Brooks, who wrote an inspiring article about Obama's spending bill to fund more community colleges. He made me feel proud of my decision.

Hate Male

Working alone isn't so bad.

When I accepted the job at the paper, I knew it was only a matter of time before I got some hate mail. I have been in this position before when I submitted other writings (see previous post In Full Disclosure). It is to be expected. After all, I am a local art critic for a free weekly. When you’re at the top, everyone is trying to knock you off.

To do my job you have to have thick skin. Week in and week out I have to go to an art gallery, look at pictures or thingies, think about them, and then sit at my computer and write down what I thought about. As if the grueling schedule wasn’t bad enough, by giving opinions and analysis I put my own character at risk. Though I try to be fair and measured, my fleeting thoughts, drunken diatribes, and rambling soliloquies written several minutes before my deadline are immortalized in print alongside the more mediocre stuff I write for the masses to pore over with clear eyes and sharpened teeth. And last week I made a friend.

His name is Dave, and unlike me, he is a real writer. I know this because he posted a comment below my recent article that was at least as long as my article, and probably twice as well written. In this comment, he made mention of the fact that I am “stealing food from the mouths of real writers.” If that is true, I indeed feel bad about it. I assumed that when the paper hired me they had considered whether I was a real writer, or whether I might be only pretending, and I had taken their word for granted. How embarrassing! Of course, I can sympathize with Dave’s anger. You see, it turns out he is actually a staff writer for my paper.

If I had my druthers, I would probably elect for Dave to send me a personal email regarding his concerns as opposed to publicly berating me. Although we have never met, I think collegiality can go a long way towards building respect. By ambushing me he seems to want to discredit rather than discuss our differing styles and opinions. At any rate, it would certainly have avoided insinuations regarding Dave’s possible jealousy, cowardice, unprofessionalism, and complete inability to identify what is/is not a joke.

I spent the next few days after “the incident” thinking about what I should do. I became depressed, and lost a lot of confidence. I would wake up thinking about possible responses I could post. I imagined meeting Dave and what I might say to him. I realized that if you split his last name up you got the words ‘ma ass,’ as in “I wiped ma ass with your last article.”

In the end I decided not to post a rebuttal, nor did I attempt to contact Dave directly, and I am glad. I am unwilling (or just unable) to write when I am angry, and Dave’s note made me pretty angry. Now that the initial shock has worn off, I feel I can assess Dave’s comments with a clear head, and my clear head feels that most of what Dave wrote was way off the mark. He made some serious accusations about me/my abilities and, though I feel they are unfounded, they are now in the public record. In my lack of direct response is my hope that:

1. Tacit professionalism will win out over gossipy infighting.

2. Subsequent articles will bury any doubt as to my authenticity.

3. Dave is crushed by a falling piano.

I understand that in my position of immense power I am going to make some enemies. As a local art critic I am in the business of judging others’ personal projects, and feelings can get hurt. In some cases, the artists and their peers may feel the need to defend themselves. I am being honest when I say I welcome this. If I misrepresent the artist in someway, or if I am being disingenuous, I would hope that someone might come forward to correct it. I do not wish to abuse my position in order to sway other’s opinions. I aim to be descriptive, analytical, and entertaining. That said, I am new at this and still finding my way. I take what I write seriously, but I also have occasional doubts and anxiety about it. And maybe this is where Dave can actually teach me something. Thanks to his clumsy interpretation and unscrupulous misquoting, I am learning that it will be impossible to get through to everyone, that what is said in jest or hyperbole may be taken literally (no matter how improbable), and especially I have learned that after half a century it is still not ok to tease an avant-garde composer about his work of silence. It’s not funny!