Posts on education

Since Carey turned me on to The Teenage Liberation Handbook: How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education, by Grace Llewellyn, I've adopted a pretty critical stance toward formal education. (Actually, my husband would probably tell you this is a vast understatement.) Subbing in the Chicago Public Schools for six months and dealing with inane school assignments at the library for three years have not improved my opinion.*

I was very successful in school, and school did benefit me in certain ways, but I cannot say that it was a very happy experience over all or that I think my time couldn't have been spent more productively elsewhere. My real life as a teen was outside of school: Girl Scouts, art classes, camping and camp counseling, church choir, church youth group, GLBTQ youth group. Going to the theatre with my parents, riding bikes and hanging out in the woods with my friends, writing stories in my notebooks, baby-sitting, riding my bike to the library, sketching in the park, learning to cook.

I realize I was very lucky. I grew up in an area where there were lots of outside-of-school opportunities and you didn't need a car to get everywhere. I had smart, supportive parents. And I'm a pretty driven person who does well with self-directed learning and self-discipline. In other words, while unschooling may not be the right thing for every kid in every situation, I think I would have been an ideal candidate.

I think most smart adults become autodidacts once they get their diplomas—taking up a new musical instrument or developing their skill on an old one, learning a new art or craft, studying a foreign language, traveling the world, writing books, making films, reading about everything under the sun. It stretches the definition of autodidactism, but I think taking community center classes should count, too, because they're voluntary and you do most of the work independently. No one is grading you. It's all up to your own interest and self-discipline.

Don't you ever wonder what you could have done if you'd had all those hours you spent in classroom drudgery to pursue your interests? I didn't need formal schooling to become a librarian, writer, or web designer. I might even have found my path sooner without school in the way.

Anyway, enough kvetching about my misspent youth. (It's all grist for the mill, after all.) The other day Collecting Children's Books mentioned a book called The Day I Became an Autodidact and the Advice, Adventures, and Acrimonies That Befell Me Thereafter, by Kendall Hailey. It's the memoir of a teen girl who left formal schooling in high school and pursued autodidactism. Clearly I needed to read it.

I started it today and am already in love. The narrative voice is charmingly old-fashioned (though it was published in 1988), and there's so much humor to it. I've wished it wasn't a library book so I could go through with a highlighter. There are so many gems. Some snippets that have stuck out to me already...

Upon receiving a summer reading list:

I read (rarely skimming) everything school tells me to from the middle of September to the middle of June, but the summer is mine. And being told what to read during summer suddenly made me realize that I don't really like being told what to read during the fall, winter, and spring either. (foreword)

Upon reading about the life of Tolstoy:

It turns out that to be a great literary genius, not only do you not have to go to college, you don't even have to be very good at educating yourself. I always like to begin a new phase of life on a comforting note. (p. 4-5)

Upon finishing Anna Karenina:

His novel has aroused in me many doubts about how we can hope to do good things. I dreamed last night that the only way I wouldn't feel guilty spending my life being a writer would be to cure cancer first—and even then I would still feel a little guilty. (p. 5)

On sleep:

I hate sleep and I hate how much time I spend doing it, but, quite frankly, I think it is the only thing that keeps human beings from going mad: the illusion that life is not one continuous stream, but the more manageable concept of days. A day, contemplated in its entirety, is hard enough to deal with. A life, contemplated in its entirety, is an impossible concept. (p. 10)

I could go on, but you get the picture. I look forward to reading more!

*No offense intended to the teachers out there. I know you do the best you can with what you've got for curriculum, NCLB standards, etc. And there are tons of families out there that could never pull off unschooling, and those kids need you! But is school everything it could/should be? I don't think so.

This week, both Maureen Johnson and Justine Larbalestier advised their blog readers not to pursue a degree in creative writing. Their basic thrust is that one becomes a writer by soaking up many different subjects and, of course, actually writing—not by having a diploma that says "Master/Bachelor of Fine Arts in Creative Writing." And that having a degree in creative writing will probably not get you a job out of college.

Anyway, as someone who majored in creative writing in undergrad, I have to disagree. Well, not disagree so much as tack on a few "buts." I know, Johnson and Larbalestier are bestselling authors, and I have never sold a book (yet). But. But.

But #1: There's nothing wrong with a BA in creative writing as long as you accept that it will not get you anywhere further than the average liberal arts degree these days—which is to say, not very far without several years' experience, an advanced degree, and/or some poverty along the way. But it won't necessarily get you less far, either. I believe you can become an entry-level corporate drone as readily with a creative writing degree as with a history, psychology, or dance therapy degree. My only college friends who professionally entered their field of study directly out of undergrad majored in computers, science, or engineering. (I didn't know any business majors, but maybe that goes for them, too.)

But #2: Once you're out of college and have spent several years in poverty and/or as a corporate drone and decide you're ready for a career that pays your bills but doesn't suck out your soul, you can look into a graduate program. At least from a humanities perspective, if you're smart and driven, grad schools don't give a flying farfetnugen what you majored in as an undergrad. I went to library school, which glories in generalism. I know CS and English majors who went back for MBAs. I know a music major who went back to school to become a nurse practitioner. College is a starting point, not an ending point. (And consider all that educational debt an investment in your sanity and financial security.)

But #3: Of course, this still doesn't solve the problem of becoming a writer, and I suppose that's probably those authors' point. No degree is a shortcut to publication, assuming that's something you desire. But here's the but: a creative writing program can give you that kick in the backside you need to formulate a writing routine and seriously hone your craft, as well as give you useful professional connections, to get you going. I take the Longstockings as a prime example. They all met in the New School's MFA program, and within a few years, most of them published critically acclaimed novels for young people. Could they have done it without the MFA? I'm sure they could have. But I don't hear a lot of regret coming from their corner, either.

As for me, I should say that I didn't just major in creative writing. I started out in computer science, then switched to psychology. I added creative writing mainly because I'd taken so many workshops by senior year that I thought I might as well make it official. My BS in psych, not the creative writing major, got me my first job out of college. But once I left that job, realizing psych research wasn't for me, I was left exactly where I would have been, money/career-wise, with just the creative writing major. (Which, as it happens, is a lot farther than most people can get without any college degree at all. I have never had to work at Wal-Mart—knock on wood.)

My primary mentor in undergrad, the author Hilary Masters, wasn't keen on MFA programs. His take was that writers in prestigious MFA workshops all come out sounding sort of the same. His advice was to practice, practice, practice on my own. It took several years past college for me to get really serious about practicing, but I'm finally getting there. Sometimes it's tempting to look into an MFA program because I'd like the professional guidance. But guidance can come from other places as well.

I guess my overall "but" is this:

But #4: A degree in creative writing may not help you. But it won't hurt you, either. Remember, everything's grist for the mill.