The life of a college kidSchool is cool. Nobody really believes this. Especially not in college. Especially not at this college. For some reason college kids are bitter. We like to be bitter about tuition costs, book costs, general requirements, requirements for our major, requirements for our minor, parking, the food, security, the flooding sidewalks, tuition hikes, incorrect classroom clocks, carpeting, sports equipment, the mail room, our dorm room, our roommate, the faculty, fellow students, the lack of fellow students, the weather, blah blah blah. Basically, we just hate college. This college. Strange, but we don’t leave. We just stick around and complain. It’s easy to complain. Especially if you don’t have anything to complain about. It’s tough being a college kid, isn’t it? Having to get up at least by noon. Being hundreds of miles away from your parents. All of those summers and winters off. Not to mention Spring Break. Living rent-free with hundreds of students your age. Having to go every morning fueled on Fruit Loops when Super Choco Charms is your favorite. And what about all those college ID/free beer promotions at local bars and clubs? Ugh, life is tough. Really tough. It almost makes you want to drop out and get a part-time job or something. But don’t get desperate yet. Things aren’t as bad as they seem. Being a Marlin isn’t the worst thing in the world. Really, it isn’t. Even with the smudgy carpets and (gasp) circular parking lots.
First, let’s talk about the big daddy of average education - Old Dominion University. Many of you that aren’t from this area might not know it, but ODU is somewhat of a local joke. Really, they don’t deserve the bad rap, but they have it anyway. You see ODU is the school that everyone goes to. I mean everyone. ODU is the 7-Eleven of higher education. Wanna get a college degree? How about a Slurpee? A microwavable burrito to go with that diploma? Welcome to ODU, open 24 hours. (Mace and stun guns recommended.) When I was in high school, ODU actually had this thing where they would come to your school the last week before graduation and you could apply for college on site. You just give them a check, they look over your transcript, you flash them a smile and they decide right there if you are Monarch material. This is a really handy way to apply for school and all, but I just don’t want to go to a school where I can get accepted on my way to the bathroom. This convenience comes with a cost, too. ODU students really get screwed on a lot of things we don’t have to worry about. Try to find an ODU alumnus that graduated in four years. Or even five years. How about six? My supervisor at my internship managed to graduate from ODU in just 10 years. Congratulations grandpa, here’s your diploma. Too bad calligraphy is no longer a crucial profession.
And do you want to complain about parking? Complain to an ODU student about parking and watch him spit in your face. ODU students spend $112 on a parking pass, and most of the time they will never get a spot. If they do get a spot, they’re lucky if they are within a mile of their class. And they don’t get the pleasure of walking across grassy fields on a closed campus like we do. They truck across sidewalks and pavement, past go-go bars and sidewalk vendors in a not- so-nice part of Norfolk. Welcome to the ’hood, my friend. Have you ever wanted to be date raped? Oh, really. Well, check out the lovely College of William and Mary. I talked to the campus police chief from W&M and found that they get an average of about two to three sexual assault cases a year. And those are only the ones that are reported. Most of the assaults happen in transit after a party. I visited a friend of mine several semesters ago. The campus is a beautiful spectacle of colonial Williamsburg architecture, but they are so preoccupied with maintaining the original look that they ignore safety. Looking for my friend’s dorm, I got lost in a jungle of tiny trails surrounded by patches of large trees. No emergency phones or street lamps anywhere to be found. Not even a pay phone. When I finally found her dorm, I was able to walk right in without any problems.
No locks, no questions. I had no trouble finding her room because her full name and room number were posted on a board right by the front entrance. The dorms are co-ed by hall, not floor, and they still have turnkey locks instead of key cards. Stalkers and rapists welcome, just check your coat at the door. And nothing, quite nothing, is as sad as a student at Tidewater Community College. These students get the reputation of being the ones who were either too poor or too stupid to get into ODU. High school with ashtrays is what they call it. Many of my friends actually go to TCC, and I’m happy for them. My biggest advice for them - after two years, LEAVE! A lot of kids go there to take care of their general requirements before they go to a four-year college. Or at least that is what they say, but they just never leave. They work that two-year institution for all it’s worth, and once they finally get pushed out, a lot of them never go on to a four-year college. Why should they? They’ve been in "high school" for the past eight years ... they’re tired, and its time for a break. So you wanna keep complaining about being a Marlin? Go ahead - no one is listening, my friend.
And that’s the last you’ll see of him. Even though it was the first time that I’d seen him. What’s odd about the whole night was the fact that I’ve only been to a handful of ‘viewings’ in my entire life. Alright, only two to be exact (this one being the second). I’m not saying that’s a bad thing or anything, though. "I just prayed that he would pass on Easter," he said. "I don’t think there could have been a better way or time ... on Resurrection Sunday." His mouth squenched up and his eyes turned from me and his hands darted in and out of his pants as his weight shifted from foot to foot. You’ve got to remember something though. This is the guy. The guy that runs a multi-million dollar consulting firm. The guy that has the membership to the club and the beautiful wife and the Christian kids and the seemingly carefree existence. The guy that picks up my nachos over at Applebee’s on Friday afternoons!
This is the same guy that sat across from a sweating Budweiser as he told me one evening earlier this semester how often he travels across Route 44 to be with his parents. How close they were. How much he tried to be ... gulp ... just like his father. Inevitably though, my partner and I stood across from him in the front of the half-lit Kellam Funeral Home, amidst all of his father’s business contacts, friends and family, just watching this man. Watching him bob and turn and miss eye contact with everything in the room. Watching him try to smile and concentrate as one of his buddies remembered the time that they had all gone fishing one night or the time that they had one to many beers at the tavern off of ... boy was it hard to smile! All the while, I was finding out just where business and money and status really put you in the end. I was finding out that there has never been a portrait on top of casket that has a picture of someone holding a financial statement or a check book or even holding a replica of their summer home! More conventionally, you’ll find the picture of a person at their most relaxed or most innocent. When you get right down to it, the only thing of realizable worth is the wood and the glass within which the picture rests! "Well, the best thing about this whole situation..." people kept trying to offer.
"Yeah, you’re right," he would say, or, "Yeah, that really is a blessing." I’m smiling to say to this guy or girl, "Hey, what a nice thought," but I’m really saying, "Wow, it’s mighty easy for you to say that when you really have no vested interest in this thing at all!" We’re thinking positively though. You just can’t help but think selfishly at a moment such as that. What is it going to be like when it’s my dad’s time to go? What is that night going to sound like? What are all of the people going to be saying about my mom? What will the mumbles reveal? What will be the blessing in THAT whole situation? So we pulled away in Dan’s Explorer that evening, not really saying a great deal about anything in particular. Just the usual small talk that comes with a sight such as that. Something about how tough it would be and how torn up he seemed and how much he’s going to miss him. That’s where our conversation led us.
And that’s the end. It’s just another in a series of events. Something else that makes you think for a couple of minutes or hours or days, only to be swept behind a business deal that keeps you awake all night, or a mortgage payment that you are worried about. You know, the important stuff. And that’s the end. The stone that once caused ripples throughout the bucket of water in which it was dropped now sits motionless at the bottom of the container. No swells, no waves, no nothing. Period. Yeah, here’s what the end is like. It’s a crowded room full of well wishers, supporters, family members and friends waiting to see the closing moments of something. Good or bad. Or sometimes just some thing. Mumbling and whispering and getting along. Crowding around the bucket, while grumbling or sniffling through each wave. And only then does reality check into the game: and the crowd subsides slowly into the boundaries of the evening, leaving the rock at the bottom of the bucket, sitting alone.
No more waves. And that moment could be coming up or far removed, however, we must embrace the notion that it WILL BE UPON US. It could hit with the speed of a heart attack or the agony of a graduation, nevertheless it’s inevitable. And while it’s a cliche, it holds a lot of truth: if you haven’t hugged him or kissed her or said those magic words, you’ll regret it. And if you have any reservations or things that are biting you, you’d best get them off of your chest. But most importantly, if you’ve got the time, spend it with him. Spend it with her. Spend it with them. Spend something ... After all, money will never be a problem because a picture frame is pretty damned cheap.
It’s Tuesday afternoon, 1:45. I’m sitting in class, listening to a lecture about a very interesting topic. The professor is building up to make her point and the students are listening attentively when all of a sudden ... RING! RING! Somebody’s cell phone rings. All eyes turn on the culprit. She fumbles for her phone, apologizes and hangs up on the intrusive caller. Two minutes later ... RING! RING!
I guess the caller didn’t get the hint. This time the cell phone owner races out of the room. It must have been an important call, because she didn’t come back for 10 minutes and missed the most important part of the lecture. To all of you who bring your cell phones to class, do us all a favor and TURN THEM OFF. It is very disrespectful to your professors and fellow students when your phone rings. Even better, why don’t you leave your phone in your glove compartment where it won’t bother anybody? If your social life is that important that you can’t go 50 minutes without your phone, then you don’t need to come to class. Now, I’m not saying cell phones are a bad thing, or that cell phone owners are all insensitive. I admit, I own one of the annoying little things.
I loathed them before I was given one for Christmas, and now I’m pretty happy that I have one. It comes in very handy when I’m running late or my car breaks down. And I will also go as far as to admit that I have brought my phone to class, but I made sure the thing was off before I suffered the embarrassment of having it ring during class. Most of the time my phone stays in my car, where it can ring its little heart out without disturbing a soul. I understand that many of the students at this college have children and need to be contacted in case of an emergency. I suggest that if your children are ill and you need to have your phone with you, ask the professor and your fellow classmates if it will bother them if your phone rings. If they say no, then fine. But if they say yes, then go home and take care of your sick child. I’m not sure how widespread this problem is on our campus, but I do know that in two of my classes last week someone’s phone rang. I’ve never seen someone actually answer the phone and start having a conversation while in class, but I would not be surprised if it happened sometime soon. So please, before I have to listen to someone else’s conversation instead of the lecture I’m paying good money to hear, have a little consideration for the people around you and don’t bring your cell phone to class!