Not Driving Me Crazy

  When I started college, and for the first three semesters I attended, I drove myself to school every day. I went to trade school for a while, and I drove there every day too. When I went back to college at a small rural school, I drove there almost every day. That's another story all together.

  Judging by the lots and parking structures around campus any weekday, that is the story for many of my fellow students today just as it was back then for me. Not me, though. Not any more. I was robbed for parking fees once by Sac State, but it's not happening to me again.

Maybe I should explain.

  My car broke down three weeks before finals the first semester after I transferred to Sac State. I had no idea what to do. I had no money, and no time. Searching for options, I found out about the free RT sleeve for my Sac State One card. Genius!

  For those that, like me back then, who may not know about the RT sleeve, it is just what it sounds like, a paper sleeve for your One card. What it does is allow you to get on any RT bus or light rail, anywhere the RT system runs, at any time- Free.

  My second semester on campus, I did not buy a parking permit. That semester I didn't spend a single dollar on gas driving back and forth to school. No door dings, no parking tickets, no breakdowns.

I ride RT every day.

  I have noticed some positive changes in my educational experience riding RT.

  One, I tend to go to more of my classes. It just seems as though it is less convenient to leave campus than when I had a car nearby.

  Two, I am better prepared in class. Instead of driving, I read and review before class every day. I'd be even better prepared if I spent my time wisely on the way home. Sadly, Angry Birds usually wins out.

  Three, I am generally more relaxed. The stress that driving to campus causes is tremendous. Hassling with traffic, searching for parking both at school and again at home, and watching feebly as my bank account dwindles creates a lot of pressure. Not having that extra stress makes my classes less stressful, and improves my experience.

  Now, I know the first thing most students say is that the bus takes too long, and doesn't go where they live. Hogwash. Google maps can show the RT route to and from anywhere in Sacramento. As for time, see points one through three above. 

Click Here for a Full RT System Map!  Click here for the RT Central City Map!

  In April this year, a national study was released by the American Public Transportation Association that revealed trends about public transportation in the US. I read the study, and I learned a few things that make riding RT to school even more intelligent.

  For every 1 million miles of road driven by cars, 1.42 people are killed. For buses, that number drops to .02 people dead.

  Even considering the fuel and electricity used by public transportation systems, 1.38 billion gallons of fossil fuel are saved each year.

  According to the study, Americans are getting out of their cars and onto public transportation en mass. Not surprisingly, 69.8% of the more than 400,000 people surveyed use public transportation to get to work or school.

  I wonder what a difference riding the bus to school might have made when I first started college, before my GPA sank to a number so low I won't even admit it publicly. I wonder how many years of my life might have been different.

  And when I glance up from my textbook on the #30 bus first thing in the morning, I chuckle, watching fellow students strangle the steering wheel in frustration trying to find the elusive space before class starts.

I'm glad it isn't me anymore.

Sex and the City or Getting Screwed?

I can't help but wonder why every semester journalism classes seem to fill quickly.

Simultaneously, it seems newspapers are shedding writers and shuttering doors right and left. If there is such dismal outlook for work post-graduation, why are so many young people forging ahead into journalism careers?

Are we reaching for the stars or are we just dreaming?

I think it is commonly understood that there is no glory in being a writer for a newspaper. Even if the paper is a huge, national paper and the writer is prominent, chances are good no one will remember the name on the by line. Writing is long hours of stress, too much coffee and microwaved entrees. It's frantic phone calls to 20 people to get a nine word quote. And it's swallowing ones pride when those nine words are left on the cutting room table by an editor who is more interested in making advertising space.

The exception might be the newspaper columnist. And maybe this career is the driving force behind so many journalism students flooding the educational scene.

If television is taken seriously, and we all know it is, being a newspaper columnist is one of the most glorious jobs around. Take “Sex and the City” as an example. Fame and fortune, posh parties, free stuff, respect. That's what we are shown, what we have been told is the life of the newspaper columnist.

We have been told that a successful columnist gets fast-tracked into A-List parties and swanky restaurant openings. We are convinced that columnists work a few hours a week and party the rest of the time. The phenomenal pay is enough to squander on weekly Manolo Blahniks. Rent? No problem. There will be plenty of money left over for the flat in Manhattan.

It seems the biggest challenge presented to a columnist is who to date this week.

Since being a columnist is being a celebrity, dating is no problem. Perfectly eligible partners come out of the wood works for the chance to entangle with a newspaper columnist. Artists, politicians, investment banker millionaires, they line up for the chance to be with a columnist.

"Sex and the City" may be just a TV show in it's most recognizable format, but it was also a real newspaper column once. The show is based, somewhat loosely, on Candace Bushnell's column, and the movies, are based on the show. The column itself was published by the New York Observer, an odd-ball paper in it's own right. The salmon-colored tabloid is published every Wednesday in New York.

Tabloid columnists have a great job. It is a job where a person is encouraged to have opinions. There is little oversight and often, columnists escape the hell of the modern cubicle-office labyrinth to work at home. I think HBO has hoodwinked us into believing the glory of column writing by ignoring the reality.

According to schoolsintheusa.com, median income for a columnist in the US is around $30,000 annually. The highest paid columnists are often advice columnists who typically have a Ph.D. or Masters degree in psychology.

Consider also the competition. There are an estimated 20,000 newspaper columnists in the US today, writing for about 1,400 papers, fewer than existed in 1960.

No one has any illusions about rent in Manhattan. A person is going to have to fork over between $3,000 and $4,000 monthly for a one bedroom apartment. This seasons Minolo Blahniks? Try $645. That's for one pair. I don't know what designer clothing costs, but I can imagine it falls in line with the price of those shoes. And a taxi from TriBeCa to the Upper East Side? Ouch.

Maybe being a newspaper columnist isn't the HBO portrayal, but rather something real and gritty. Maybe it is actually the dream of reaching for the stars that draws people to writing instead of the dream of being a star.

Experience... A Prerequisite for College?

Instructor: “What is meant by the term “Unilateral,” in terms of a nation's action?

Student A: “They do it themselves?”

Instructor: “Um..., Ok, anyone else?”

Student B: “It's like, when they don't feel like they have to get permission from anyone else?”

Instructor: “Um..., Ok. Can anyone add to that description? Anyone?”

Student C: “When they do whatever they want?”

Instructor: “Uh..., Ok. Sort of. Anyone else? Yes, there in the back with your hand up?”

It seems like this scenario plays out in many of my classes at least once a week. Students responding to questions with incomplete sentences. Worse, the responses are generally phrased as questions.

In class, when an instructor asks a question and students respond with incomplete questions in return, the discussion falters and dies. The actual learning experience is wasted because the information students are providing is not adequate. Instructors are forced to accept less detail in order to move the discussion along, or give up the discussion for a lecture format. Education suffers and the classroom becomes like reruns of the Daily Show with John Stewart-vagueness, misconceptions, and overplayed stereotypes.

In many of my classes, I have noticed that it is the “returning” students who respond to questions with complete answers. Almost always, these are correct answers that are expressed in a way to show that the student comprehends the information, they are not just regurgitating what they read or what the instructor said a few minutes earlier. These same students are the ones who do not miss class all semester. They do all their work. They do well on tests. They show up to study groups. And why?

Because work prepares a person for college so that college can prepare a person for a career.

I belong to the group of students labeled “returning,” a term I most emphatically dislike. The truth is, the learning never stopped. When I returned to the classroom, I treated it as though I was showing up to a new job. I think that the majority of students who fall into my category do the same thing. The new job experience can only be gained one way, and it can't be taught in a high school classroom.

I think more students should take a few years right after high school to live a little before college. Getting out in the workforce and having to provide for ones own self is an essential life lesson I think many people are not getting until they are finished with college. Learning this lesson only gets more difficult the older we become.

I have often wondered what my classes would be like if the majority of students were in my situation. I wonder if the experiences would change their perspective of college.

I have to think that it would be so. Far more of the students in my category have the same goals and drive that I have. I think it is because many of us know what life is like out there sans-education. It is a tough world, and it's only getting tougher.

Back in the classroom;

After the first few vague, incomplete responses, I raise my arm and wait to be addressed. When I am, I respond in a full and complete sentence. I want my instructor to know that I am doing my job.

Me: “A nation is acting unilaterally when it pursues national interests without regard to the interests of fellow nations.”

Simi Valley Round-up

Afternoon sun bathed the small Wild West outpost when the Desparados rode into town. They had come to pay homage to the Gipper, that long lost hero of America. This was not the only reason for the gang to assemble, however. They were to meet for the first time as a gang of eight. They all carried a solemn, similar goal, the overthrow of the President. This meeting would work to flesh out how the gang would accomplish the goal, but they all knew that this meeting was more than that. This meeting would establish who would be the leader of the gang. The tension built as the gang joked amongst themselves, stabled horses and made their way to the bar. The boisterous locals hushed at the unfamiliar faces. 

It was clear from the onset that some of the characters had more swagger than others. Two of the cowboys stomped to the bar and ordered drinks for one another, complementing stories and reputations, clarifying incorrect beliefs. These two starred each other down with steely eyes, neither breaking. The one carried the heat of Texas, it was in his walk and in his speech. It was in his confidence too. The other was from way-up Massachusetts. He had confidence too, and a whole heap of it. His wit cut like a stiff nor-easter, wiping up the waves and tearing at the shore. It escaped no one how the two periodically checked their pieces. 

They both carried famous weapons, weapons that have been passed along by generation. The man from Massachusetts carried a complicated, wicked looking piece the likes of which no one could understand. It's called Universal Healthcare, but is better known as Romney Care. No one knows how many souls have been laid to waste already by this vile tool, or how many may yet fall.

The feller from Texas carried a simple looking piece, but it was well known to be accurate, hard hitting, and difficult to recover from, even though it's size made it seem a little ridiculous. In the right hands this piece could be wielded with devastating results. The most recent gunslinger to throw around with the Straight Shooter had embroiled the nation in a two front war for the first time in sixty-odd years. Simple it may be, but dangerous nonetheless. 

The other ruffians carried pieces in various configurations as well. One had a double-barrel shotgun of Immigration Reform. Another carried the Whip of Bringing the Troops Home. One particularly maniacal looking older man even dragged behind him the Gatling Gun of Government Reduction. 

The group got a little raucous at one point, sparring and debating about jobs, and the economy, and what some of the banditos had done in their respective territories to address these problems. The man from Texas and the man from Massachusetts pushed and shoved each other some, causing a bit of a scene while the others tousled among themselves or reminisced about older days with the Gipper when things weren't so tough. It was Mama Tea Party who brought them all back onto the subject of wresting the government from the control of the Donkeys and the President. 

It was clear that the man from Texas has the swagger, but he is also a cutthroat, and the nation still licks it's wounds from the last cutthroat President. The man from Massachusetts has the gumption too, but it still isn't clear that his policies can be accepted by common folks. The others showed why they are not front runners in the competition for Numero Uno, but the Vice President spot could be open to several of them for future debates. 

As they all cleared out, the locals looked about in disbelief. A broken chair, a few scratches on the bar, but all-in-all the little town had made it unscathed through the event. The panic that had gripped the place only an hour and forty-five minutes earlier seemed to dissipate with the sun sinking into the western sea. Life could return to normal.

How was the First Week of Classes for You?

For me, it was not my first day on a college campus. Or even the first day on this campus. But I did see college, and this campus, in a way I never have before. It was a little startling of an experience, definitely unsettling and something I never really thought I would go through. For the first time in my life, I crossed a college campus without smoking a cigarette.

Some people probably think that it is “normal” to not smoke on campus. I have even known smokers who do not smoke at school. For me, not smoking on campus is as alien as a Christmas sale in August. 

The American Lung Association claims that current levels of smokers in college are down from a peak in 1999 of 30% to a still illogical 19%, or about 1 in every 5 college students smoke regularly. I started college in the fall of 1997 and I was smoking a pack of cigarettes every 24 hours like clock work. Despite the myriad anti-smoking programs targeted at my demographic, I resisted, often insolently, every attempt to get me to stop. For me, smoking was a right, like owning a gun, complaining about the government, or paying taxes. I reasoned that it was my life. I would get annoyed by those people who made the fake chocking-cough thing when they walked past me while I was smoking. They inspired me, in a way, to keep smoking. 

So what changed? Fifteen years of my life and approximately 110,000 cigarettes burned, and I can't really say what compelled me to quit. However, I remember last semester meeting a group of fellow students to study and realizing the residual stench of my cigarettes was overpowering. I felt embarrassed. I recall thinking that I should quit, that doing the things I want to do and smoking would sooner or later come to an impasse, but the sensation of not having cigarettes, the fear of that happening, kept me smoking. 

I wasted the final 10 minutes of class last semester daydreaming of the smooth, roasty cigarette I was about to enjoy. Now, I only think about smoking when I smell others smoking. That first day on campus was tough. Smoking was a routine for me. I had a cigarette with everything I did, and breaking that habit has been the toughest part of quitting. Only a smoker or a former smoker can truly understand how it feels to experience a craving because of a situation and to know that even one cigarette is not an option. 

I never realized how many college students smoke. When I was a smoker, I always felt as though I was the last smoker on the face of the Earth. Now, I feel as though I am surrounded. One of the results of quitting smoking for me has been that my sense of smell is improved. What once was a delicious fragrance I craved, now assaults me. Not smoking, I am suddenly aware of smokers. I have a better understanding now of the non-smokers in my life who had to suffer through my smoking. It is hard to understand now what it was about cigarettes that kept me hooked. 

On Campus this week, I have a new sense of freedom I have never had before. I can go from one class to another without having to stop and smoke. I don't worry about smelling nasty, or not being able to make it through a long, boring lecture anymore. I think that quitting smoking is the best decision I have made to enriching my college experience.