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I am 22 years old. For 19 of those years, I've been a student in the realm of formal education; my only memories of those other 3 years are scattered George H.W. Bush appearances on TV, and a nasty incident involving closing a window on my finger. And lots of sleeping.
In about 7 weeks, that's all going to change - fundamentally. As much as we can engage in euphemisms about the end of the college years by claiming to remain "students of life", always engaged in a learning process, the simple reality is that my years in formal education are over. Of course, I'm very excited; the thoughts of a nice bi-monthly paycheck, benefits, a 401(k), life in South Florida, and progressing up the career ladder are tantalizing.
And I'm also scared to death.
In a rather symbolic move, I've just completed the last round of midterms in my life. In one of those classes, I received a 97.8% on a 7-page written exam on market structures. In the other course - a two-and-a-half page essay in Digital Transformation - the abysmally slow, inefficient, and quite possibly indolent TA may possibly have a grade posted before I reach the peak of senescence (though, no guarantees there.) I'll get at least an A- in the course, though. This is a surprisingly bittersweet success. My academic career has gone very well: being elected a Student Council President twice; graduating number two in my high school class; earning the National Achievement Scholarship, awarded to less than .5 percent of those who apply for it; earning a full-ride scholarship through undergraduate; finishing a 4 year undergrad program in 3 years as the Student of the Year for my department; and then, attending Carnegie Mellon on a full-tuition scholarship. All of that was made possible by a mother and grandmother who understood fundamentally the value of education and hard work, and made damn well sure that I understood and embraced those values early on as well. I owe everything to them.
But, as nice as all of those accomplishments are, all of them are about to become entirely irrelevant. The transition ahead is nothing less than an abrupt reset to tabula rasa, a radical requirement to start from the very depths of the bottom again. And this shall be the longest phase of my life, probably enduring until the year 2045 - as hard as that is to even fathom. When I speak to the established professionals who talk nonchalantly about careers of 30 years, I am bluntly reminded of my own inadequacy, my own youthful lack of refinement, wisdom, and perspective. I've been alive 22 years; they've been working for that, plus 8 more years. Is there even an instrument that can measure how little I know?
Terrifying - even though I have in fact held five different "real and paid" jobs, and performed quite well in all of them. It is terrifying because it is inevitable that at some point, I'm going to screw up. At some point - many points - I won't have the answers. There will be no textbook to consult, no possibility of spending all night in the library to discover the answers. The most vastly trepidating, intimidating, purely petrifying aspect of it all is that in many cases there will be no right answers. No answer guide; no "Part B" of the Harvard Business School case study for comfort and vindication. And additionally, there will be no guarantee of rationality and fairness, no academic ombudsman to whom allegations of injustice can be directed for a prompt resolution. Quite a few KPMG Partners - many in the peak of their careers and earning power, many with families to support - were summarily fired this summer after dedicating most of their professional lives to the firm. Not for their poor performance - but because the economy soured, and clients stopped spending on discretionary consulting projects. They did everything right in their lives - and still got screwed over, due to events beyond their control.
It could happen to me. Terrifying. Oh, the sheer youth and helplessness of it all! (This of course is why some people talk to themselves - ahem, "pray" - and consult their "God" for protection, even as their "God" is busy killing off another few thousand starving children in Africa at this moment. I'm young, but I'm not at the level of idiocy, ignorance, and illogical reasoning that is requisite to that type of theism.)
Or perhaps I'm making too much of this "age" thing. One of my mom's hippie Black Power friends once made the intriguing comment (probably while half-stoned) that time is a purely anthropoid construct that only carries an import to those poor humans who enslave themselves to it. Hmm, deep thought. And as much as I wish that I could share her sentiment, I don't. At least I think I don't. Perhaps, after all, it is good that I'm terrified at my youth, not sure how to accept having just taken my last midterms. Perhaps it signifies humility on my part, an understanding that I still have much to learn though my formal education is all but finished, and my growing to accept the adult understanding that I have oh-so-little power over the course of the world. That I understand the fragility of the human condition, and will live my life accordingly.
Perhaps. Those are the types of questions and concerns for which, alas, we will never be provided a graded, corrected midterm exam.
In about 7 weeks, that's all going to change - fundamentally. As much as we can engage in euphemisms about the end of the college years by claiming to remain "students of life", always engaged in a learning process, the simple reality is that my years in formal education are over. Of course, I'm very excited; the thoughts of a nice bi-monthly paycheck, benefits, a 401(k), life in South Florida, and progressing up the career ladder are tantalizing.
And I'm also scared to death.
In a rather symbolic move, I've just completed the last round of midterms in my life. In one of those classes, I received a 97.8% on a 7-page written exam on market structures. In the other course - a two-and-a-half page essay in Digital Transformation - the abysmally slow, inefficient, and quite possibly indolent TA may possibly have a grade posted before I reach the peak of senescence (though, no guarantees there.) I'll get at least an A- in the course, though. This is a surprisingly bittersweet success. My academic career has gone very well: being elected a Student Council President twice; graduating number two in my high school class; earning the National Achievement Scholarship, awarded to less than .5 percent of those who apply for it; earning a full-ride scholarship through undergraduate; finishing a 4 year undergrad program in 3 years as the Student of the Year for my department; and then, attending Carnegie Mellon on a full-tuition scholarship. All of that was made possible by a mother and grandmother who understood fundamentally the value of education and hard work, and made damn well sure that I understood and embraced those values early on as well. I owe everything to them.
But, as nice as all of those accomplishments are, all of them are about to become entirely irrelevant. The transition ahead is nothing less than an abrupt reset to tabula rasa, a radical requirement to start from the very depths of the bottom again. And this shall be the longest phase of my life, probably enduring until the year 2045 - as hard as that is to even fathom. When I speak to the established professionals who talk nonchalantly about careers of 30 years, I am bluntly reminded of my own inadequacy, my own youthful lack of refinement, wisdom, and perspective. I've been alive 22 years; they've been working for that, plus 8 more years. Is there even an instrument that can measure how little I know?
Terrifying - even though I have in fact held five different "real and paid" jobs, and performed quite well in all of them. It is terrifying because it is inevitable that at some point, I'm going to screw up. At some point - many points - I won't have the answers. There will be no textbook to consult, no possibility of spending all night in the library to discover the answers. The most vastly trepidating, intimidating, purely petrifying aspect of it all is that in many cases there will be no right answers. No answer guide; no "Part B" of the Harvard Business School case study for comfort and vindication. And additionally, there will be no guarantee of rationality and fairness, no academic ombudsman to whom allegations of injustice can be directed for a prompt resolution. Quite a few KPMG Partners - many in the peak of their careers and earning power, many with families to support - were summarily fired this summer after dedicating most of their professional lives to the firm. Not for their poor performance - but because the economy soured, and clients stopped spending on discretionary consulting projects. They did everything right in their lives - and still got screwed over, due to events beyond their control.
It could happen to me. Terrifying. Oh, the sheer youth and helplessness of it all! (This of course is why some people talk to themselves - ahem, "pray" - and consult their "God" for protection, even as their "God" is busy killing off another few thousand starving children in Africa at this moment. I'm young, but I'm not at the level of idiocy, ignorance, and illogical reasoning that is requisite to that type of theism.)
Or perhaps I'm making too much of this "age" thing. One of my mom's hippie Black Power friends once made the intriguing comment (probably while half-stoned) that time is a purely anthropoid construct that only carries an import to those poor humans who enslave themselves to it. Hmm, deep thought. And as much as I wish that I could share her sentiment, I don't. At least I think I don't. Perhaps, after all, it is good that I'm terrified at my youth, not sure how to accept having just taken my last midterms. Perhaps it signifies humility on my part, an understanding that I still have much to learn though my formal education is all but finished, and my growing to accept the adult understanding that I have oh-so-little power over the course of the world. That I understand the fragility of the human condition, and will live my life accordingly.
Perhaps. Those are the types of questions and concerns for which, alas, we will never be provided a graded, corrected midterm exam.
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