The Cost of Education

Let me preface this little rant with a little bit of background information. I work in my school’s annual giving office, so I’m more intimately aware than most of the student body with how the budget works at my college. I worked in my high school’s development office, so I was pretty aware of the annual budget there too. I have also never had to pay for my tuition out of my own pocket, my parents have always been very supportive and although I do help them with certain costs of my education, they cover the majority of them. All of that being said, I can’t help getting pissed off sometimes when people complain about tuition in the way that they usually do.

Here’s the basic argument that people seem to give. They get pissed off that tuition is so expensive, or there is a fee they don’t want to pay, or that tuition is being raised. The last of these is what sparked this little rant of mine, because I heard somebody talking about how stupid it is that they raise tuition every year (or at least almost every year). Well here’s the thing that people don’t seem to understand: expenses increase.

Okay, so let’s say a student complains about the library sucking (which ours kind of does). So the school decides that they are going to renovate the library. Between the materials, labor costs, planning and implementation it’s going to cost $15 million (random made-up number). In order to get that $15 million, the school can either:

  • Take out loans and accumulate debt
  • Raise the necessary funds through private donors
  • Raise the necessary funds through grants, other public donors
  • Increase tuition to cover the cost of the project

Or some combination of the above. If the school goes into debt, people get mad that they are spending money they don’t have. If they raise tuition, people get mad that they have to pay more for the school, even though the value is increasing with the renovation. If they raise the funds through donors and/or grants, people don’t seem to worry about it. But when those people’s turn comes to give… relatively few give back generously enough to fund that kind of project quickly. So the project ends up taking a lot longer because the funds aren’t available right away. If the school decided that the library project is too expensive, then people will go back to complaining about how much the library sucks.

The bottom line is… pick something to complain about, but be logical about what you’re saying. There is a strong argument that education costs should be way cheaper… and I agree. But that money has to come from somewhere whether it’s private companies, taxes, alumni donors, whatever. It just bugs me when people have this warped sense of an operating budget that makes no sense.

So please, don’t go to a school just to complain about how much you’re paying for it. Don’t be surprised when tuition increases… the school is just covering its increased expenses. And please please don’t blame it on a lack of funding if you are not going to step up to the plate after you graduate and become a donor. Or if you decide to do all of these things always… don’t expect to talk to me about it and have me agree.

Rant = complete.

Paris. How do I start? The past week has been one of the most important ones of my life, I think. Right up there with my week in Guatemala, or my first week of college. The week of October 3rd. I think I pinpoint the commencment of my Parisian longing to when I was seven years old. Whatever influenced my decision that I needed to visit the City of Lights, I can’t remember anymore. But for the past 12 years, a voyage to Paris has been a void in my soul that I have longed to fill.

The French capital is dreadfully easy to romanticize, with it’s glowing lights, rich history and winding streets dotted with shops and famous cafés. It is a city of promise, of love, of creation. Paris is an icon of innovation, creativity and opportunity. Everyone who visits has something else to say about the magical streets, and I have wondered what the city would mean to me. How would Paris choose to leave its mark on my life?

So soon after my trip, I can’t say for sure. But I think that God let me visit Paris at the right time in my life. It’s often said that the city is a perfect one for being lonely. For being nostalgic. For being melancholy. One can become a flâneur, endlessly wondering the charming rues with nowhere to go except toward discovery. In Paris I realized that I have spent a large majority of this past year as a flâneur in my own way. Because of that, walking the streets of Paris was a physical manifestation of the wandering that I have been doing for the past several months. Focusing on the future is something that is hard not to do when you’re a college student in America. It’s basically why you’re there, it seems. To plan your life. To find “direction.” The feeling that you have to figure out where you’re going can be enormously overwhelming sometimes, and Paris offered my a brief kind of excape by allowing me to lack a destination.

Probably one of the things that I was most looking forward to is being able to finally practice my French. As part of my 12 year preparation for my trip, I decided that I must learn French and so I opted to learn it over Spanish in 8th grade. My foreign language education started with a cheerful bonjour and one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, M. Laux. Over the next five years I have dilligently studied and practiced French (okay maybe not dilligently but I tried my best). This trip was the first time I could really test drive what I’d been learning for years. To say the least, trying to communicate in Paris was humbling. The first interaction that I had was with out waiter at a small café the morning we arrived. He immediately recognized my American accent and clothes, gave us the menu en anglais and spoke to us the rest of the time in English. Besides being a blow to my ego, it was tough to hear this French man stumbling over English so that he didn’t have to hear me stumbling over my français. But I wasn’t going to let one experience deter my efforts to speak French. Over the week, I improved. I kept trying. And by mid-week, I was holding short conversations completely in French. By the last couple of days, I was holding much longer conversations in French. My proudest momement came on our final day when I bought a scarf from a younger woman in a small shop. I was thinking in French. We talked easily about the weather, about the scarf in question, about vacation. It was all I asked for as recognition for how hard I was trying to use the language.

Paris is different than American cities. The buildings don’t tower over you like icy glass and steel giants. Instead, the opulent stone architecture surrounds you with history and comforting warmness. The cobblestone alleyways are far more inviting with their botiques and cafés than dark and creepy corridors in American cities. The sweeping boulevards of Paris are glamorous and dazzling. It’s a city to fall in love with, because it is a work of art that is both historically rich and accented with sharp points of modernism. Between the hanging streetlamps, the inviting quays of the Seine, the sweeping bridges and the intricate carvings decorating nearly every structure… Paris is a masterpiece.

My week in France gave me an initial glance of what Europe is like. Getting that little bit of Paris made me want to pack up my bags for a year and become an expat studyihng at the Sorbonne. Seriously. I want more. I want to struggle in the city and make it my own. I feel so fortunate that I have been able to experience the City of Light at all, and I fully intend to return.

People will ask me how my trip was. What am I supposed to say? It was great? Fantastic? Phenomenal? Maybe I’ll just have to say “Maintentant, je peux dire que Paris est dans mon coeur.”

I miss you.

My shadow slipped away. I think it was quite a few months ago. What’s embarrassing is that I believe it happened in strong daylight. Now that I am thinking back upon the event, I recall a slight flicker of stony gray, disappearing through the trees away from the cold winter sun. The absence of your constant companionship was astonishingly vague and subtle. I did not care to fully realize, until even a few short hours ago that you had truly abondnend me. 

The knowledge that you are still somewhere in that sparse, dappled forest fills me with a dull ache. The sort that is not unlike the feeling of a bell’s clapper, several moments after pealing. It is a resonant tone, rich, deep and vast. I’m staying still. I’ll wait for you in solemnity, a safe home to come back to after your wild romping among the trees. I long for your soft, velvet hands to lie beneath mine. For your infinite expanse to envelop me, and for us to share each other once again. 

Going to the Movies (And Why I Have a Love/Hate Relationship With It)

Going out to a movie is fun right? It is an exuberant outing, loftily characterized by the timeless symbols of popped corn and ticket stubs. Theaters often imitate the grandeur of 19th century stage theaters. Velvety cushioned seats dressed in deep crimson sit row after row facing the grand screen. Relationships thrive in the dark, flickering light of a movie screen. From young love, to old love, to a grandmother and her grandchildren, to a lone soul, spending time with themselves in the intimate seclusion of a story. So why have I never quite enjoyed the movies as much as other people? Well, here’s why. 

  1. The Leaving-the-Theater Effect Since I was young, it was always difficult for me to exit a movie theatre. I would be so completely immersed in the picture that going back to reality was a transition. It is still sometimes difficult for me to emerge from the darkened corners of a theater to the outside world of highways and harsher lights. There is something about the magic wearing off that makes the movie a titch less enjoyable. It makes reality seem dull, if even for a few moments. 
  2. The Price Movies are affordable to the public. It was one of the reasons that the movie industry has grown into what it is today. Anyone could spare some change for a movie, whether they were a schoolboy or a gentleman. And movies are still affordable, but the industry has latched onto people’s willingness and used it. It is known that people will buy movie tickets even if the price is raised. And so it has been. The average price of a movie ticket was $7.89 in 2010. In 1950, it was around $0.50. Even adjusted for inflation, the cost of a movie ticket has risen drastically. And the traditional concessions that go hand in hand with a movie, well, those are often more than the ticket! 

I still believe in the magnificent outing of going to the theatre, but it has never been completely fulfilling for me. Maybe some will disagree, but I know that I will always limit my movie goings. 

Reset

Okay. I’m gonna tumble. I swear. I’ve failed 4 or 5 times now to keep up a tumblog. However, within the past 6 months or so, I’ve increasingly wanted to begin and keep a blog. So, here’s how it’s gonna work.

1. I can blog from ANYWHERE now. I just got an iPhone, and between that, my iPad and my computer, I have no excuses anymore to not post.

2. I’m starting a 365. That means I’m taking 1 picture every day for an entire year. The pictures are being posted here, so that’ll encourage me to post.

3. I’m gonna post what I want to talk about. So you can all listen.

That’s it for now, look for the first photo later tonight!