www.forbes.com/sites/brettnelson/2012/01...ld-postpone-college/
Very soon, millions of high-schoolers will run a nerve-rattling gauntlet, perhaps for weeks: They will yank open their mailboxes and flip through the envelopes like one of those rapid-fire, dollar-bill sorting machines in all the gangster movies. Girth—that’s what they’re after. Because the plumper the package, the better the odds it contains that which matters most: a college acceptance letter!
Before triumph and tragedy ensue, I have a modest proposal for the future class of 2016. No matter what happens in the coming weeks, grab some solitude and contemplate one very important question: Am I really ready for college?
With $1 trillion (that’s with a “tâ€) in student loans outstanding, your answer could well mean more—to your academic experience and your overall personal development—than the reputation of any ivy-wreathed institution that will have you.
In a recent post about income inequality in America (see What Would You Give To Be In The 1%?), I made the case that society should strive for the right level of inequality—one that, best as possible, reflects the relationship between sacrifice and reward. All else equal, I argued, many well paid people are expected to be on call, assume more risk, and generally neglect other aspects of their lives to a greater degree than those who are not paid as well. Plenty of people will choose not to make those sacrifices, and size of their wallets (for better or worse) will often reflect that choice. The big challenge: ensuring that as many people as possible have the opportunity to make that choice for themselves.
As many readers pointed out, having that opportunity means being able to compete for well paying jobs and careers. (While most people can serve a cup of coffee, most cannot design the next Ipod or manage a multibillion-dollar investment portfolio.) It means, in short: learning a valuable set of skills.
Easy enough, you say, especially if you get into a decent school. But here’s the rub: Having access to an education is just the entry fee. To really learn something (as opposed to completing homework and navigating the occasional test), you have to be ready to receive that knowledge—to inhale it, with aggression, satisfaction, even glee.
To that end, I propose a theoretical pre-college regimen called “grownup training.†Specifically: six months spent working in a factory, six in a restaurant, six on a farm and six in the military or performing another public service such as building houses, teaching algebra or changing bedpans. (Of course, mandated military or civil service between high school and college is nothing new. Austria, Brazil, Finland, Greece, Russia, Turkey and Vietnam all require between six months and two years of service. Israel demands three years from its men and two from its women, after which many would-be undergrads take what the English call a “gap year†to travel the globe before heading off to college.)
I floated this idea on Forbes.com six years ago as I began business school at age 35, and for my money it stands up more than ever, especially in this increasingly competitive economy.
The two-year format need not be rigid or in any particular order, but grownup training should definitely include all four of those components. Each offers a window on a critical, if unglamorous, societal function; taken together, the group cuts across all manner of socioeconomic currents: old and young, rich and poor, rural and urban. And beyond the obvious educational and character-building implications for the kids, grownup training would offer broader benefits to society—like cheap, dedicated labor for hospitals, schools and charities.
To be clear, grownup training is not formal conscription. Those two years would be a college prerequisite: Without it, applicants need not bother filling out their forms.
Okay, it’s a bit Draconian. And, yes, plenty of students are truly engaged and take advantage of what their universities have to offer. But there are also plenty of 18-year-olds who are itching to get the four-year party started. I’d reckon that grownup training would put all undergrads deeply in touch with 1) why they wanted to go college in the first place, 2) what a special opportunity college really is, and 3) more than a vague notion of what—and better yet who—they wanted to be when they grew up.
My clarifying moments came after graduation, at age 22, on a factory floor in frigid Menomonee Falls, Wi. After studying mechanical engineering, I took a job as a “management trainee†at a $40 million contract-manufacturing outfit where I was one of a handful of college-degreed employees—no badge of honor among my blue-collar colleagues who had forgotten more about carving metal into complex shapes than I would ever learn.
To test my spirit, the head of the design department—a cartoonishly tyrannical but brilliant engineer—set me to a variety of basic tasks, like breaking down cardboard boxes, painting safety lines on the plant floor and sawing 2†by 4†metal tubes to make scaffolding for a massive homemade machine tool. I almost lost a thumb in a hydraulic vice. As we all do, I eventually figured things out, and went on to manage projects for the likes of Chrysler, Caterpillar, Eaton and Briggs & Stratton. The experience gave me even more respect and appreciation for engineers—and also convinced me I’d probably be happier doing something else.
Some folks are quick to argue that all the time wasted and mistakes made as undergraduates is part—even the point—of the college process. I’d bet many of those same people now spend a lot of time cruising the self-help aisle at Barnes and Noble.
Bottom line: I sure wish I’d have thought more outside the mailbox when I was 18.
