A law of human nature states that misery loves company. This is true, especially in the academic world. The term “open-door policy” needs to be revised. How many times have you gone to a teacher to voice your emotions, only to have the door closed in your face? It doesn’t literally close—your concerns and feelings are not met with the understanding you had expected. Instead, you receive the “I had it way worse than you ever will” lecture. We’ve all heard this one before. They had to walk to school barefoot through the snow and it was oddly uphill both ways. The truth about the open-door policy is that the door is open, but only if you want to discuss that teacher, that teacher’s class, that teacher’s assignment, or that teacher’s paper. The moment your life is mentioned, it is quickly dismissed. This uncaring attitude makes matters even worse. Teachers today don’t know or want to know what kind of life the student of the 1990s has. In fact, the modern college student is different from any student of any previous generation. Many students today are non-traditional, which means that most of us do not live in the dorms. We are also older than the traditional student is. As non-traditional students, we are set apart, with a whole new list of concerns that need to be realized. In the rare event that any teacher should be interested in our lives, I will offer an explanation of the definition of the modern student.
The first main concern of the 1990s student is related to schools and jobs. Many non-traditional students hold outside jobs for various reasons. Some of us do so to support a family, while others do so to pay bills and have spending money. Non-traditional students are also older because they have started college, left college, and come back to it. This age difference adds anxiety. For example, I have the added pressures of this being my fifth year of college. I wonder if I’ll ever graduate. I worry that I won’t be able to find a job. I pray that someday I’ll be able to move out of my parents’ house. These factors make midterms even more stressful. I have only four classes, yet in one week I had to write and type three papers, study and take three tests, and read two stories in Spanish.
The next main concern is related to life—our daily schedules, including those of our family and friends. Our attention may sometimes seem distracted because of circumstances regarding our families. For example, I have had to be the chauffeur to my father. In three days alone, I had to take him to Pri-Med three times and to the dentist twice. All of this had to be accomplished in between classes and homework. Meanwhile, every day after school I pick up my mother from work, take her home, grab my stuff, and I’m out the door again. At night I usually tutor a high school student in Spanish. There are five students I have been helping—three Spanish I and two Spanish II. I usually do not come home until after eight p.m. Then I get to eat a reheated supper while I do my homework. Nights that I make it into bed before midnight are rare treats.
The third concerns are miscellaneous in nature. These are the little things that pop into life every now and then. They come out of nowhere, but must be dealt with nonetheless. For example, this week I have had to grieve the death of one of my old students. This little boy and I spent afternoons together almost every school day for three years. He was such a polite little boy. He always said, “Yes ma’am,” “No ma’am,” and “Miss Kim, may I go to the bathroom?” Evidently his mother was clinically depressed so she purchased a gun. She murdered him and then committed suicide. My mind is racing with thoughts. Did he wonder why she didn’t take him to school that morning? Was he looking at her while she shot him? Did it hurt him? Was he instantly killed? Or did he lie there and suffer while he watched his mom turn the gun on herself? Who let this woman have a gun in the first place? Was she really suffering from temporary insanity when she shot him? Was she instead quite aware of her actions since she had the gun two days in advance? All of these questions run through my mind at every waking moment. Even when I sleep, I am haunted by images that are so real.
Have you ever seen the movie Freaky Friday? It tells the story of a teenage girl and her mother who switch places for a day. In the beginning, each thinks that the other’s life is easier. By the end, however, they’ve experienced the other’s life and conclude that it was not as simple as they thought. I think this is a good idea. Let’s take all of the teachers who say, “I had it way worse than you ever will” and switch places. Maybe the teachers would reconsider. The student of the 1990s has many more concerns that set us apart.
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