In the movie “Reality Bites,” a college slacker loses his mediocre job at a newsstand after stealing a Snickers candy bar. He reasoned that the “establishment” owed him the candy.
Many college students feel the same way. After all, we pay the “establishment” thousands of dollars for our educations. Yet, no one will give us a money-back guarantee on that education. In the business of college, the customer is not always right.
I don’t remember much from the Algebra class I aced or the biology class I didn’t ace. No one asked me to remember what I learned. The reality for me is that I won’t remember much of what I’ve learned in class once I leave La Verne. I was too busy trying to get good grades to learn anything.
What college has taught me is to do whatever I can get away with.
As a hungry freshman, I stocked my room with Davenport muffins because I couldn’t eat lunch on my 12-meal plan. I was not going to be a starving student. I watched other hungry students take sandwiches, fruit and milk out of the dining hall so that they, also, would not starve. We were not taking paintings off the wall, we were smuggling food.
College makes us cheaters and thieves.
Our book store is not the first one I’ve been to that asks customers to leave their bags at the door. It is not to prevent highlighter theft. Students steal books. There is obviously something wrong when students have to steal books.
I regret buying many of the books I bought for the simple fact that I never used them. Now the first thing I ask when I consider taking a class is whether or not the text book will be used.
The book store alerted one professor I had when several students returned their books after being told they would not need them. “You can’t pass this class without the book,” the professor told the class. I got a B—without the book.
Those who do not let fear of being caught stand in their way take whatever they want. They take essentials like books and food, and sometimes things that are not so necessary like “souvenirs” from favorite stores and restaurants. We don’t see ourselves as thieves. We are simply taking what the “establishment” owes us.
All my life, I heard teachers say, “I’ll give you a C if you try.” The C’s in junior high and high school may have been acceptable, but it’s a completely different story when the financial aid is on the line. Grades become primary, while learning is secondary.
Not everyone cheats on tests or plagiarizes, but we all seem to “b.s.” our way through school. We turn two-page papers into five-page papers by cheating on our margins, printing in larger fonts and making our sentences longer, not by doing more research.
People say we are apathetic, but it is only a reflection of how we are treated. I can never feel the pride that so many alumni feel because I keep thinking about books and money and being hungry. As family-oriented as ULV is, there is a money factor that stands between the students and the University.
I often wonder what happened to classmates who could no longer afford to stay in school. I wonder if institutions realize the potential greatness of these students they lose. If they knew their students would become great leaders, inventors, doctors, entertainers, etc., would they find a way to let them stay?
I wish I could have traveled around the world for four years and learned about life on the streets instead of being stuck in classrooms. I fear that I will eventually end up in the same mediocre job stealing candy that I would have had as a college dropout.
I’ve seen the rewards of dishonesty and been tested to follow that path.
Someone needs to recognize what we are becoming. We are educated criminals with the potential to improve the world. Being starving students just stands in the way.
