From the “I am getting older, and here is further evidence” department: two of my former students, whom I remember as barely out of high school, are now teaching (philosophy and psychology) here at PCC. There are various markers of one’s ageing as a professor: the first students young enough to be your biological children (passed that years back), the first former students to emerge as one’s colleagues (hitting that this year.) Next stop: second-generation students, whose parents took my courses when those parents were of traditional college-age. I calculate I’m no more than five or six years away. I may be “only” 41, but I’m well into my sixteenth year of teaching here, approaching what I presume will be the halfway point of my career as a full-timer. And I say again, how lucky I was to be given a tenure-track job at 26!
Lately I’ve been hearing from a lot of former students (or youth groupers) of mine who are freshly out of college. Some are in graduate school, and some are trying to find their way in the professional world. And as is so often the case, many are struggling emotionally. This struggle is especially acute, I note, in some of those young people who had the most traditional middle-class American narrative. Many of the kids I mentored in the All Saints youth program moved away to go to college; many went to private schools (Smith, Swarthmore, Elon, Pomona, etc.) which featured very small, close-knit communities. They went from feeling loved and supported in high school by a very strong youth program to feeling loved and supported in a nurturing college community. And then, wham, graduation. They aren’t living at home anymore. They’re not in the dorm. They’re living in San Francisco or Brooklyn or West Hollywood in a tiny apartment trying to make ends meet. And not surprisingly, quite a few of them feel lost and lonely.
As far as some are concerned, I tell far too many stories about my exes (perhaps I just have too many about whom to tell things.) But I learned a lot from the women I dated, married, or lived with — and I might as well mine the often painful (as well as hilarious and pleasurable) material. My generally negative feelings about older men/younger women relationships are rooted in some small part in my own experience; in 1999, when I was 32, I dated a woman ten years my junior for about eight months, living with her for four. “K” was finishing up at a private four-year liberal arts college when we started dating (having met in spinning class). She lived in a huge house with half-a-dozen roommates, all also seniors, all finishing their college careers. They were a close-knit group who provided intense emotional and intellectual support.
And then graduation came. K wanted to take a few years off and work after college; she said she “wasn’t ready” for grad school just yet. She also wanted to work and start repaying student loans. She got a job as a case worker for a social services agency (making just over $20,000 annually) and started looking for a proper apartment. She found one that nearly broke her budget, shared with a much older roommate who had been in the workplace for years. And after a summer off for fun and travel, K settled down to a five-day a week work schedule. She liked the exhausting and challenging work, but she felt emotionally “devastated” (her word) by the sudden withdrawal of her support system. Instead of living with half-a-dozen students who stayed up late talking cognitive science, K found herself with a roommate who went to bed at 9:30 and woke up no later than eight hours afterwards. K, who had only had a few summer retail jobs, now found herself doing full-time work for the first time in her life, low woman on the totem pole, frequently critiqued and criticized to go with massively underpaid.
K’s friends had scattered across the country — some to work for politicians in DC, many to graduate school. She didn’t want to visit her college, just a half-hour’s drive away — the memories of how happy and nested she had felt there were too jarringly dissonant with her own post-college experience. And of course, I (one year sober at this point) decided to play the disastrous role of rescuer that older men often adopt in these cases. Since our romantic relationship was rapidly progressing at the same time, it was easy enough for me to suggest that K might like to try living with me for a while to save rent. We lived together for several challenging months. The thrill of living with a man for the first time, of being in love and sharing space, distracted her from her post-college depression for perhaps six weeks; by Halloween, K was down in the dumps. Living with a boyfriend made her lonelier and more overwhelmed; used to having the safe, non-sexualized space of her college apartment to retreat to, she found it hard to carve out space for herself in a house that was obviously mine. (I did do all that I could to make her feel at home, but buying furniture and redecorating together isn’t always enough.)
K and I broke up days after New Year’s. She couldn’t handle, she said, living with someone who wanted to move forward towards possible marriage (always a goal for ol’ Hugo) while she was just trying to figure out how to live independently for the first time. And she was smart enough to know she was using me as a distraction from the anxiety that leaving college created. We parted amicably, and though we gradually lost touch, she did eventually say to me the same thing I’ve often heard from folks in her situation: “The first year out of college was the most miserable of my life.”
I do note that those students who went to community college before transferring to a four-year school, or who went to school part-time while working, are often — understandably — less discombobulated by the post-college effect. If you were never in a cocoon of intellectual challenge and emotional support, you’re obviously not going to miss it. Those of us who were privileged to have had the “traditional” college experience (living away from home for four years, deeply immersed in on-campus activities, sharing space with roommates, worrying more about problem sets and love affairs than paying rent) are more susceptible to the sudden shock of the “real world” than those whose temperament or circumstances have led them into the “real world” even before college began.
But even for students who live at home or work full-time while going to school, there is often still a post-college letdown for many. One of the things about college that makes it so special is that, at its best, the college experience offers an alternative vision of how the world should be. Even in — perhaps especially in — the community colleges, we consciously attempt to create a world in which what matters most to us is what matters least to the outside world, and vice-versa. Here, when we who teach and administrate are doing our jobs, asking questions matters more than simply learning by rote; here, we judge based on the quality of ideas rather than on appearance. “Lookism”, “affluenza” and racism are not illnesses from which any college is immune, of course — but there are few public, structured environments in this country in which materialistic and superficial values matter less than in a college or a university. For many of our students who come from what might euphemistically be called challenged backgrounds, the classroom can be a place of inspiration and refuge as well as useful instruction. It is not always so, of course. But most of us do our damndest to make it that way.
I do hear from former students who say “Man, I miss PCC!” We may not have had dorms or a Greek system, but somehow a great many young (and not-so-young) people find support and inspiration in our crowded classrooms and our cramped offices. Bragging for myself and my colleagues, the quality of teaching and mentoring here is pretty damn good, and many of those students who transfer (particularly to massive state universities) report having felt more nurtured at PCC, despite our size. I appreciate the compliment to the oft-maligned community college system. And I note, too, that each year I get more and more evidence that the traditional middle-class narrative that I experienced is not the only, or perhaps even the best way to enjoy and learn one’s way through the late teens and early twenties.
As for what to do about the “post-college blues”, there aren’t a lot of easy solutions. Though churches and other similar organizations (alumni groups, etc) often try to offer support for post-college 20-somethings, those networks usually pale in comparison to the intensity of what was available on campus. More importantly, many young people I work with seem to feel a vague sense of shame about missing college so much. As depressed as they may be in their first “real” post college job, they are often reluctant to articulate how scared and unhappy they may feel for fear that doing so will make them appear immature and unready for adulthood. And as a result, they are sometimes embarrassed to admit how overwhelmed they feel by this sudden avalanche of new pressures, and this sudden loss — simultaneously — of intellectual challenge, emotional support, and athehuge nearby network of like-minded peers. (As K put it to me: “It’s hard to go from talking about Habermas in an honors seminar to filling out paperwork for the Bureau of Family Services.”)
We older folks joke a lot, sometimes cruelly, about the way in which prosperous Americans spin out adolescence into an event that spans decades. Young people hear those jokes and often, I’ve noticed, feel compelled to feign a confidence and a self-sufficiency that they don’t really feel on the inside. To borrow something I heard in AA a lot, they try to “fake it until they make it.” And sometimes they make it, and sometimes they don’t. But it’s a brutal transition, and if nothing else, we who made it through need to redouble our efforts to offer support and encouragment.
Possibly one of the worst things about this is that it’s fairly inevitable. You can’t stay in college forever; and even if you try to, you’re support network is going to move away without you.
I think this jump wouldn’t be as jarring if there were adult-level social groups (like my parents insist there used to be, and books like “Bowling Alone” says there were). If bowling leagues, and dance classes, and Legions of various kinds were active (and anyone had the time or money for it). But, that seems less and likely (although, through the internet and the general nerdiness of my friends, we seem to be holding on to the semi-weekly ritual of D&D games fairly well).
I don’t know. Being a community college student, I feel like I am missing a big part of college experience staying at home and working and studying. I don’t get to network and get this cocoon of love.
Although I do agree, you do get used to people coming and going through out the campus. So I guess I’m prepared in a way or so for the real world, but it is rather depressing sometimes.
It seems that everyone you refer to, directly or indirectly, had a positive experience at college. I’d be interested to know how this plays out foe those that did not.
I think this happened to my group of friends when they went to college, leaving the support of the tight-knit group we formed in high school. My friends and I kept despairing about our inability to make friends at college until one of our mothers remarked that we had made friends — we’d just had such close, supportive friendships in the past that the new relationships, which were fairly superficial mostly due to their newness, didn’t much compare.
On a slightly different note, and once again, it’s messed up that we organize our society such that no natural support system exists for adults. What the heck. As for a lack of solutions for the “post-college blues,” I intend to combat it by building a life with my friends (in whatever form that takes) instead of trying to go it alone.
Well, the historic natural support system for adults was “start your own family”. The expectation of years of singleness between college and marriage, though a generally excellent idea, is a novel one — and our social structures haven’t fully caught up.
Bill, the “post-college blues” by definition are linked to having loved college — one might be depressed whilst at school, but that’s indeed a different kettle of fish.
Well, the historic natural support system for adults was “start your own family”. The expectation of years of singleness between college and marriage, though a generally excellent idea, is a novel one — and our social structures haven’t fully caught up.
I’m pretty sure it was “continuing to have an actual relationship with your family of origin,” actually — that is, continue to have those people in your daily life, not your once or twice a year life. A sole adult (one’s partner or spouse) can’t provide all the support one needs, and children definitely can’t be expected to meet their adult caretaker’s emotional needs. Adult friends, siblings, neighbors, and colleagues — not to mention, you know, one’s own parents and grandparents — are needed to fill those roles.
I’m all for later marriage and parenthood. We could have folks marrying later and still connected to their childhood support systems. The only way community systems can thrive and grow, get better and stronger, is if people continue to invest in them throughout their lives. If the support system is only used and invested in until a person turns 18, then the system is about as mature as an 18-year-old. If, on the other hand, the system is maintained by each generation for 80 years and then passed on, it can have the wisdom and capacity of centuries of growth.
I agree that a sole partner cannot supply all of one’s necessary support. Of course, though you have had a very nurturing experience of family, so many who grow up in close-knit families find the whole thing more oppressive than comforting. Especially, say, when one grows up gay in a family which views homosexuality as a sin, or one grows up with a strong sense of universalism in a family in which the Calvinist doctrine of election is stressed.
We need to create social structures that allow sufficient mobility (economic and geographic) so that those who don’t find home and family to be nurturing can seek out “kin of choice rather than birth”.
Yes — you’re absolutely right that many people have damaging and dysfunctional (and sometimes, of course, outright abusive) experiences in their families of origin. I apologize for failing to note that in my last comment. I completely agree that our social structures need to provide every available resource for people creating new families, including full legal recognition of those families. Many of the those I consider my community are not related to me by biology. (The last time I discussed this topic online, in a thread over at Alas, I was advocating the same position I am here against someone who posited the supremacy of a genetic system of kinship.) A person who was deprived of a nurturing family only has more reason to create a fuller support system as an adult. What I reject is not any individual forming any family in any way that works for her. It’s the system that endorses dysfunctional family-making (by failing to support caretakers of young children, failing to support healthy relationships, failing to recognize all families, etc), that allows people to abandon their children and, much more frequently, their aging parents and other relatives. The system that tells us that, just like with consumer products, the best people are those we import from an exotic location, not those that exist locally. (This is about as healthy and sustainable on the social level as it is when we do it with food, clothing, and other items.)
Anyway, as I mentioned when I offered my personal solution to the “post-college blues,” I’m very much in favor of people forming supportive communities with the people of their choice. It’s a pity that many people haven’t inherited healthy support systems, and that the culture furthers this damage by spouting the idea that young people universally detest their parents and should do everything in their power to escape them (an idea maintained by both adolescents and adults). The only way to combat this is to begin the tremendous task of creating new communities. Whether it’s with your chosen family or your family by birth doesn’t matter.* What matters is whether it happens at all.
* Well okay, it matters some. As my grandmother gets older and weaker I get increasingly outraged about the way the elderly are first marginalized and then neglected (often to death) in our society.
of course it’s a different kettle of fish (and you need a different metaphor you vegan you. They don’t just put fish in a kettle because they like it there.) I just thought perhaps you’d have something to say about it now that I mentioned it, such as how those people fared after college. But if you don’t you don’t.
It is funny that you write this, because out of all my friends…I was THE ONLY ONE not to go straight into college. Coming from a remarkably dysfunctional home life, I spent my younger years trying to just survive (i.e., being on my own from 17, working full time, being without any sort of support). I envied my friends who were involved in college and could experience the dorm rooms and parties while I scrambled around at age 18, broke, trying to pay my rent, or figuring out whether or not I was going to pay the electric bill or eat that night. At the same time having an enormous amount of intellectual curiosity and miserable that I was not able to experience all that.
Then…my friends graduated. And they fell into a state of (excuse my saying this)… a spoiled existence. For many of them, coming from the top of the their world to working low paying jobs or starting at the bottom was just “too much” for them. And, perhaps since I came from a different background…sometimes, I have to stand back and say, “Seriously, STFU and grow up.” Then I realized that, like you said, they never had the shock of the “real world.”
But, I have to be honest…sometimes I do grow tired of hearing about these poor, post-college adolescents who are “lost in the world.” Because, I find it very difficult to see how they are “lost”. And…in my opinion, coming out of an ivory tower, many students DON’T give average youth like me a chance. I cannot tell you the countless times I have had college students talk down to me because I wasn’t a part of “their world,” i.e., “What could you possibly know about post-structuralism? You dropped out of high school!” I don’t hear enough about people like me or people I know who never had a real chance to join the world. The kids who are sort of tossed to the side.
And, after seeing my friends fall into depression upon entering the “real world” it seems there should be more emphasis on balancing academia and an outside life.
I hope this didn’t come off as bitter or anything…but…I mean…I have witnessed this stuff first hand as an outsider. And, as someone who is now working full-time, attempting to study BIOLOGY, and taking care of an autistic brother, to hear a bunch of college graduates lament about the world is enough to drive me up the wall.
Okay, re-reading what I wrote - I came off very strong. The point I am trying to make is I think most young adults struggle with going into the adult world whether they enter with a BA or are forcibly thrust into it. Growing pains. Just growing pains. :)
I’d like to point out that sometimes the cocoon of university life is exactly the wrong thing for a person. Especially over here, where we only get campus accomodation in our first year and move in with people of our own choice after that.
That system leads to people like my housemate, who through a combination of looking pathetic and being emotionally manipulative has forced me to parent her for the last two years. I’m not very good at parenting.
She’s failing her course. At some point she’s going to reach the real world and get much better, because she’ll be forced to grow up. Nobody will look after her, so she’ll learn to do it herself.
But at university, her parents pay her rent, so her loan becomes a very generous living. She has no responsibilities, no chance of losing her income, no immediate consequences for anything, and that sheltered environment is precisely what she doesn’t need.
I moved into a big communal, coop (i.e. cook meals together, etc) household after university - everyone else there was about 6 - 9 years older than me and I LOVED it!!
To be honest, I always felt abit like a fish out of water at university - I had alot of not-so-great friendships and the community felt too closed for me.
I felt really free out there in the world - with people older than me who were doing exciting things with their lifes - and so many late night political debates about trade unionism, feminism, socialism, post-moderism (pro vs. anti) etc.
And, funnily enough, I’m now 39 and in a 10 year relationship with a much older man - we have a 3 year old child and he has a 27 year old son in medical school from a previous relationship. Maybe the fact that I’ve never felt properly a part of my peer group explains it or maybe that my parents had me fairly late in their lives (in their 40’s) so I relate well to people with parents who are near or in the same generation as mine - who knows??
I should be finishing my honors seminar take home right now…
Reading about privilege makes me sad. I had one semester at a private liberal arts college (before I realized I couldn’t afford it) and had to leave and spend one semester at a back-in-the-boonies CC before transferring to the state university. I’m getting a good education here, but I gets to me sometimes wondering what I could have had there. I’ve had friends at private schools that talked about the “intellectual cocoon” you mentioned. I think that would have been really nice.
Maybe that’s why I’m taking the risk of going to grad school. It is guaranteed to force me away from the Faulkner-esk quagmire of pain that is my extended family and it will (theoretically) be a time for developing me as a scholar and teacher. Maybe I’ll have that intellectual cocoon one day if I can get a placement in a good department.
I’m not ever leaving college.
Ditto, ditto, ditto.
It’s been very challenging to face up to the fact that college was, in many ways, the best years of my life, and a lot of it had to do with the built in social structures. Because of my partner’s job limitations (academia), living near my family or near my friends from college wasn’t an option, and it was quite the wake-up call to realize that many, many social structures are built up in early adulthood and then maintained. There are obviously a lot of other options for those of us who can’t partake in that setup, but there’s a distinct shift in moving from the one to the other, especially for folks who have only ever known the continuity of one community. (Many of my friends whose families are all within a close geographic radius fall into this camp, though it’s becoming less and less common.)
Hugo, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the issue of folks, especially women, who follow their partners’ jobs to new locations. I was talking with a smart friend about this recently, and we realized that though this is still common, it’s often not overtly acknowledged, as though there’s something vaguely shameful about it.
i think so much of college is the feeling of being in the same place (developmentally), roughly speaking at the same time. i will always treasure my college roommates and my law school roommate in a way that i probably never will anyone else, simply because we shared so many experiences in the course of discovering who we are.
i don’t miss college one bit (ok, maybe the flexibility of a schedule), and i frequently feel like a lot of people romanticize college as the best time in their lives when i don’t know if i’d say the same for myself. college was a very transformational time for me, and it was necessary, but it was often painful and frustrating. probably for me the best years were the last half of college through now.
sometimes people think it’s odd that i’m 27 and have a roommate who is not my significant other. maybe that’s juvenile, i don’t know, but it seems not so uncommon my generation, at least among single people who live in urban areas. i know that i enjoy coming home to a friendly face, to have someone to commiserate with over corporate bs with and to kill spiders for me, but who isn’t dependent on my constant attention. probably the bottom line is that it’s expensive to live alone in los angeles, and i think i prefer to have someone else around to keep me sane. i think being an adult out of college with a real job and still living with another young professional who is neither your sweetheart nor your very BEST friend really prepares you for ultimately living with a spouse or lover. it’s one skill to be able to function on your own and take care of yourself, but it’s another to coexist with someone else and share common spaces and household maintenance and keep it harmonious.