Richard
05-24-2009, 16:40
I know the feeling - I was 33 when I went back to finish my undergraduate studies and 38 when I went to graduate school. ;)
Richard's $.02 :munchin
Adventures in Absurdity: A guy goes back to school in his early forties and finds that academia is sometimes just plain weird.
Jay Schalin, Pope Center for Higher Ed Policy, 22 May 2009
I returned to school in my early forties, filled with enthusiasm and driven by the sense of urgency that comes with having one last chance at success in life. Though I was a lifelong bookworm, my first attempts at higher education had failed due to a lack of purpose. After twenty-plus years of wallowing in aimless underemployment, purpose found me. I wanted the good life that comes with having a good job, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to get one without an education.
Although I had recently gained an interest in computers, my initial goal was almost exclusively employment. I figured I could make a quick, year-round sprint to get a two-year degree in 16 months. But after just the first few classes, I knew I wanted more than just a few technical skills and some paper credentials. I wanted the knowledge and the mental training. I even wanted the effort: I actually wanted to battle my way through difficult math problems, spend long hours in the computer lab, and write lengthy papers about the great ideas of Western civilization.
I got the long hours, the two-year technical degree, and more—I had no idea what I was in for the academic world. After a nine-year odyssey through a variety of institutions of higher learning (and various full- and part-time jobs), I obtained an A.A. in information systems from Ocean County College (a two-year community college in New Jersey), a B.S. in computer science from Richard Stockton College (a small public liberal arts school, also in Jersey), and an M.A. in economics from the University of Delaware. In retrospect (and in a whimsical mood), it now seems an adventure worthy of a Ulysses, a Gulliver, a Frodo.
I was isolated more by my conservative outlook than by my age, and sometimes the campus had the feel of a hostile landscape filled with sinister traps and bogeymen. Little tiny people tried to tie me down, powerful giants toyed with me as if I were their plaything, and sirens beckoned with ill intent (Okay, I exaggerate slightly). And always I had to trudge on toward the goal, despite the increasing weight of my endeavors.
And while I spent most of my time as an undergraduate in technical classes, which are by nature insulated from political and cultural trends, I was still subjected on occasion to the standard fare offered by today’s academia: political harassment, blatant left-wing indoctrination, teachers with accents too thick to make themselves understood, acceptance of disruptive behavior and cheating, and so on.
Had I been less experienced, less focused, and less firm in my convictions, I could have fallen prey to the propaganda, bought into the unethical aspects of the system, or worked myself into such a state of resentment that dropping out might have seemed sensible.
Despite my attempts to remain apart from foolishness, on several occasions I forgot myself and spoke up. During a discussion in one of my few humanities classes, called “Ideas of America,” a girl claimed the United States is irredeemably evil because of its past institution of slavery. I objected, reminding her that over a century ago the country had acknowledged slavery’s immorality and put an end to it. And that Anglo-American influence nearly eliminated slavery across the entire globe. The professor, who slanted the reading list to include such representative American thinkers as bell hooks and John Dewey, diplomatically decided to change the subject. I was somewhat grateful, because the girl had become so enraged by my rebuttal that I was forced to consider the need to defend myself physically.
But most of the time, I played it safe. In another humanities class, called “Writing for Many Roles,” the teacher preferred to show his favorite movies rather than lecture, providing us with frequent opportunities to perfect that very practical and in-demand writing function, film criticism. After a viewing of the grotesque, semi-pornographic movie The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, I commented that the movie appeared to be a Marxist attack on Christianity. The instructor praised me, incorrectly assuming that I was in agreement with the film’s message. As I was hoping to graduate with a high GPA, I chose not to correct him. (The “A” was already in the bank.)
Yet sometimes forces beyond my control broke through my detached facade. Before a test in my Networking class, a foreign student sitting next to me, with whom I had exchanged pleasantries in the past, whispered, “We help each other.” Having studied for the exam, I didn’t anticipate needing much help, so I ignored him. Halfway through the test, the professor left the room. A short time later, the same student began making noises tapping my chair to get my attention. I continued working on my test. After a few minutes of this, while I was struggling to complete a problem on some scratch paper, he tried to slide my test out from under my elbow. I stopped him, and we had a brief tug-of-war with my test paper, which you better believe I won.
The professor remained out of the room until the end of the test. The offending student, rather than being contrite or embarrassed, was indignant at my refusal. I guess it all depends on what your definition of “Networking” is.
I also took a class in Artificial Intelligence in which two students sat in the front of the room and carried on a loud personal conversation while the teacher ignored them and droned away at the blackboard. Many of the class could not hear the lecture because of these two buffoons, but nobody attempted to shut them up until one day when I could no longer contain myself. The professor ignored my protest and also the subsequent shouting match, which continued outside the building after the class. I would have settled for some ordinary human intelligence in this case.
The last two incidents highlight a key problem in today’s academia. There is a heavy emphasis on student evaluations of professors, which does little to limit the most egregious flaunting of improper political and ethical conduct by faculty members but encourages instructors to drop standards to curry favor with the failing or disorderly students likely to cause them trouble in their reviews. I knew one teacher at Ocean City College who bragged privately of never, in fifteen years, giving a failing grade to students who completed the class.
(cont'd)
http://www.popecenter.org/clarion_call/article.html?id=2176
Richard's $.02 :munchin
Adventures in Absurdity: A guy goes back to school in his early forties and finds that academia is sometimes just plain weird.
Jay Schalin, Pope Center for Higher Ed Policy, 22 May 2009
I returned to school in my early forties, filled with enthusiasm and driven by the sense of urgency that comes with having one last chance at success in life. Though I was a lifelong bookworm, my first attempts at higher education had failed due to a lack of purpose. After twenty-plus years of wallowing in aimless underemployment, purpose found me. I wanted the good life that comes with having a good job, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to get one without an education.
Although I had recently gained an interest in computers, my initial goal was almost exclusively employment. I figured I could make a quick, year-round sprint to get a two-year degree in 16 months. But after just the first few classes, I knew I wanted more than just a few technical skills and some paper credentials. I wanted the knowledge and the mental training. I even wanted the effort: I actually wanted to battle my way through difficult math problems, spend long hours in the computer lab, and write lengthy papers about the great ideas of Western civilization.
I got the long hours, the two-year technical degree, and more—I had no idea what I was in for the academic world. After a nine-year odyssey through a variety of institutions of higher learning (and various full- and part-time jobs), I obtained an A.A. in information systems from Ocean County College (a two-year community college in New Jersey), a B.S. in computer science from Richard Stockton College (a small public liberal arts school, also in Jersey), and an M.A. in economics from the University of Delaware. In retrospect (and in a whimsical mood), it now seems an adventure worthy of a Ulysses, a Gulliver, a Frodo.
I was isolated more by my conservative outlook than by my age, and sometimes the campus had the feel of a hostile landscape filled with sinister traps and bogeymen. Little tiny people tried to tie me down, powerful giants toyed with me as if I were their plaything, and sirens beckoned with ill intent (Okay, I exaggerate slightly). And always I had to trudge on toward the goal, despite the increasing weight of my endeavors.
And while I spent most of my time as an undergraduate in technical classes, which are by nature insulated from political and cultural trends, I was still subjected on occasion to the standard fare offered by today’s academia: political harassment, blatant left-wing indoctrination, teachers with accents too thick to make themselves understood, acceptance of disruptive behavior and cheating, and so on.
Had I been less experienced, less focused, and less firm in my convictions, I could have fallen prey to the propaganda, bought into the unethical aspects of the system, or worked myself into such a state of resentment that dropping out might have seemed sensible.
Despite my attempts to remain apart from foolishness, on several occasions I forgot myself and spoke up. During a discussion in one of my few humanities classes, called “Ideas of America,” a girl claimed the United States is irredeemably evil because of its past institution of slavery. I objected, reminding her that over a century ago the country had acknowledged slavery’s immorality and put an end to it. And that Anglo-American influence nearly eliminated slavery across the entire globe. The professor, who slanted the reading list to include such representative American thinkers as bell hooks and John Dewey, diplomatically decided to change the subject. I was somewhat grateful, because the girl had become so enraged by my rebuttal that I was forced to consider the need to defend myself physically.
But most of the time, I played it safe. In another humanities class, called “Writing for Many Roles,” the teacher preferred to show his favorite movies rather than lecture, providing us with frequent opportunities to perfect that very practical and in-demand writing function, film criticism. After a viewing of the grotesque, semi-pornographic movie The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, I commented that the movie appeared to be a Marxist attack on Christianity. The instructor praised me, incorrectly assuming that I was in agreement with the film’s message. As I was hoping to graduate with a high GPA, I chose not to correct him. (The “A” was already in the bank.)
Yet sometimes forces beyond my control broke through my detached facade. Before a test in my Networking class, a foreign student sitting next to me, with whom I had exchanged pleasantries in the past, whispered, “We help each other.” Having studied for the exam, I didn’t anticipate needing much help, so I ignored him. Halfway through the test, the professor left the room. A short time later, the same student began making noises tapping my chair to get my attention. I continued working on my test. After a few minutes of this, while I was struggling to complete a problem on some scratch paper, he tried to slide my test out from under my elbow. I stopped him, and we had a brief tug-of-war with my test paper, which you better believe I won.
The professor remained out of the room until the end of the test. The offending student, rather than being contrite or embarrassed, was indignant at my refusal. I guess it all depends on what your definition of “Networking” is.
I also took a class in Artificial Intelligence in which two students sat in the front of the room and carried on a loud personal conversation while the teacher ignored them and droned away at the blackboard. Many of the class could not hear the lecture because of these two buffoons, but nobody attempted to shut them up until one day when I could no longer contain myself. The professor ignored my protest and also the subsequent shouting match, which continued outside the building after the class. I would have settled for some ordinary human intelligence in this case.
The last two incidents highlight a key problem in today’s academia. There is a heavy emphasis on student evaluations of professors, which does little to limit the most egregious flaunting of improper political and ethical conduct by faculty members but encourages instructors to drop standards to curry favor with the failing or disorderly students likely to cause them trouble in their reviews. I knew one teacher at Ocean City College who bragged privately of never, in fifteen years, giving a failing grade to students who completed the class.
(cont'd)
http://www.popecenter.org/clarion_call/article.html?id=2176