Education - A Twisted Love/Hate Relationship

Yesterday I wrote an 11 page research paper about captive-reared Black-footed ferrets. Because of the Endangered Species Conservation Act of 1973, the government is required to fund programs that are designed to save endangered species in North America. The Black-footed ferret is one of these. And so to my joy, I got to write a huge research paper about the different rearing methods used and how they effect kit survival once the ferrets are reintroduced into wild prairie dog habitats.

This paper took two days to write. It was not my topic of choice and I found myself repeating that favorite phrase from the 6th grade, "This is so stupid. Why would I ever need to know this?" And the answer is, I could have probably lived a full and happy life without ever knowing the different survival percentages of ferrets raised in outdoor pens for 60 days as opposed to those raised in outdoor pens for 90 days.

Much of my education has been hours of slaving away, late at night, with a grilled cheese and a greasy study guide. Then I wake up the next morning, study some more, this time spill milk on my notes, and spend an hour of agony filling in tiny little black circles with a dull pencil, only to walk out of the cursed testing center thinking, "all that stress and effort, for one hour, and now I will never use that information again."

This is true most of the time. The majority of people living in this world have complete lives without knowing who Samuel Clemens is (it's Mark Twain), or that Leaves of Grass was published in 1855, or that Samuel T. Coleridge proposed setting up a Utopian society along the banks of the Susquehanna river with William Wordsworth. Has your life felt empty up until reading this paragraph of random information? I doubt it.

Now that my education is coming to a pause, I find myself looking back across the years of random information filed away and feeling somewhat crestfallen. I will be glad when I have no more long, painful papers to write, when I no longer have to enter the testing center, look at the anxious faces of young men and women trying to keep their GPA up by memorizing economic strategies of the 1700s, and feeling the heavy lead of my writing utensil. I will be glad when I can just sit down, play a round of scrabble, and not have an education angel tapping me on the shoulder and saying "You still have seventeen chapters to go." I am glad to be rid of all these things for the next four years.

But I must admit, even to myself, I will miss being an academic. I will miss sitting through lecture listening to someone with even more information stashed away on the dusty shelves of their brain reiterate to me their love for Beowulf. While I sit there in fascination and think, "This person needs help. Who loves Beowulf?"  Reading Beowulf is like watching a bad 8th century gorey soap-opera - no thanks! I will miss forever long study groups. When everyone feels like their brain just went through a high-powered microwave by the end, but everyone leaves the library at 10 p.m. knowing they are going to rock finals the next day. The classroom discussions that quickly turn into arguments, meeting Jordan on campus to share my lunch (he always forgot his), or just walking the Shakespeare criticism section of the library and feeling the amazing power one man had to generate so much discussion for centuries on end.

My education has come in handy from time to time. When we play Jeopardy Jordan always whoops me, but there are times when I get to frantically click in and then joyfully type in the correct answer. He usually turns to me and says, "How do you know that?" To which I say, "I'm a humanities major - I learned that somewhere along the line." If nothing comes from the years of toil, the sleepless nights, the worn-out fingers, and the thousands of dollars spent on books and tuition, those few numbers on the Jeopardy screen blink at me and say "Good job Leeny; you got yourself an edumucation."

I will admit: I do find a weird and sad kind of satisfaction when I can make literary references to situations in real life. I usually don't say them out loud because I try to pretend that I'm not a total loser. But the other day Jordan was attempting to leave for work and I wouldn't let him go. I told him "I am Charybdis, and I am holding you hostage on my pleasure island." He then gave me a pitying look and said "What are you talking about?" I began to explain that Charybdis is the play-boy model enchantress who is holding Odysseus prisoner on an island with perfect weather and plenty of Ancient Greece Budweiser. Halfway through my explanation I said "Wait! That was Calypso. Charybdis is the heartless sea monster who causes gigantic whirlpools that crush every ship she encounters." Then I tackled Jordan, began tickling him and made awful gurgling noises. I thought this was a blast, but he, much like Odysseus, just wanted to get away. So he gratefully left for work and I was left at home to play Trojan War with Jo. She didn't like it much either.

In the end, my education has done all the things it was supposed to. It improved my grammar, forced me to be creative, taught me writing technique, and a lot of self-control.  I found I have the ability to stick it out, even if the subject seems useless - which it often does. But in addition to all these wonderful outcomes, I have gleaned something else from my four years of pleasurable agony here at BYU. I have a mind filled with history, anatomy, biology, literature, dance, English, French, and countless other random and mostly useless things. So next time Jordan says "My throat hurts" I get to ask him "Is it your laryngopharynx or your oropharynx? Or the whole darn pharynx?" And when Jo eventually whines, "Life's not fair." I can say, "I know. You should read Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl." Which will shut her up better than I can. And when my dad starts talking economics I can say "Yeah, I love Thomas Malthus," even though that whole essay did nothing more than induce a disorienting brain fog in this politically feeble mind.

All in all, I will miss it. I didn't love every minute of it, but looking back, I am so glad all those minutes were there, the fun ones as well as the painful ones. So thanks, Mom, for reading to me before I was even born. Thanks, Mrs. Polich, for that awesome globe in the second grade classroom. Thanks, Mrs. Trudeau, for introducing us to Dickens and then persevering through our obnoxious whines. Thanks, Professor Benfell, for untangling the mysteries of Russian literature. Your lessons are everlasting.

And most of all, thanks to my loving and supportive husband. Who has always tried to convince me that I'm smart. Who has proofread hundreds of papers and fixed thousands of commas, all with a smile on his exhausted face. Who has generously paid for my education, listened to me complain about useless assignments, and who has dragged me to class when I tried faking sick. I have never met someone more willing to push and give and support than that incredible man - I am so grateful to have him as my very own cheerleader and companion. I wouldn't be the same person if he hadn't come along and told me I was capable of so much more than I ever believed. There is nothing more conducive to success than a self-less husband who believes in you every step of the way - and shows it too.

I love my education. I love my family, friends, teachers, and acquaintances who have taught me so much along the way. I love the random pile of useless facts hiding away in the corners of my mind  - if nothing else, it was an adventure getting them there.