None of us Ever Graduates

"None of us ever graduates"

This, I’ll admit, feels slightly ominous as I make my way from the train station up to campus, but am un-deterred reasoning that the ‘us’ the graffiti is referring to, is the ‘us’ that was down in this piss-smelling subway with a spray can rather that studying for that degree, so really, its not much of a surprise that none of this ‘us’ has ever graduated.

"Id like to thank google, wikipedia and copy and paste"

This one is sprayed on the opposite wall next to a fake Banksy of someone juggling bananas but still, I am refusing to judge my place of post graduate study on the local graffiti. The artists are quite simply, misinformed; they've obviously never heard of ‘TURNITIN’- the computer program the large majority of universities now use as part of their essay submission process that goes through your essay with a fine electronic tooth-comb  highlighting your percentage of possible plagiarism. I would have thought generally, professors and teachers would be up for this sort of thing, but one evening later that week down the pub with staff and Phd students from my department, I discover that perhaps this is not the case.

“I don’t mind if my students plagerise.”

          “You don’t?”

          “No, if they get that piece of paper saying they’ve got a degree, how much does it matter how they got it?”

Err, ALOT, I want to answer categorically, but interestingly it was a professor I was having this exchange with, and since everyone was drinking ale in large quantities I paused momentarily, wondering if it was a trick question. I like this professor, in fact it just so happens that this is the exact same fellow who pronounced at the beginning of class that day;

                “Due to circumstances that are utterly out of my control, last night I had to get completely, resolutely and decisively drunk. So, if I get a little shaky, sweating, or even pass out- don’t worry.”

                I did worry. Specifically since I had made the error of sitting in the front row of the lecture theater  if such an instance of shaking or passing out occurred, it was going to be down to me to do something about it, and though there is a card in my purse saying I am a qualified first aider, I’m not all that confident when it comes to hungover philosophy professors.  Also, it’s worth noting that this particular lecture was an undergraduate module I was sitting in on, therefore I was the oldest in the room (apart from the hungover professor), a fact I imagined would count for something in an emergency situation.

Thankfully it was an ironic comment that evening in the pub so I did well to pause, but it led to the question of how you do interpret a piece of paper that says you have a degree? In an economically driven culture, where things are measured in terms of the monetary gain you can squeeze out of things, education, at whatever level, is consequently measured by the pay check you earn post-school/college/university. The lower the paycheck and the bigger the debt, the less value that education had for you. And this is a prevailing path of questioning as university fees rise; What is that degree worth- we ask with our calculators in our hands. What desk does a liberal arts degree belong at? Does a law degree have any value if you don’t actually become a lawyer?

If we are teaching each generation that passes through our current schooling system that learning is only as useful as the wage you earn out of it, it paints a pretty grim picture of the culture being shaped with each passing year group. Is this the aim- young minds trained to pass exam papers, to only be good at things that can pay their monthly gym membership, car finance and the mother of all achievements; a house deposit?

Is it conceivable that it’s the term ‘education’ that is being misunderstood? Education I want to argue, is not a piece of paper with numbers and letters on, government monitored, job center approved- because no one can monitor your true education; the act of opening your mind past what’s going on in front of your nose and letting other substances in. Learning should have no agenda, no feeling of being owed something back for the time spent with a book or an interesting documentary, a trip to an amazing new place. Education is waking yourself up for no other reason but that you want to be awake. Why would you not want to fulfill your capacity? Your capacity to be a well rounded and fulfilled individual, a compassionate person capable of understanding the world from more than just one solitary point of view? But with the tools our culture gives us to measure success and happiness, we often have no idea how to take on such a task.

Is it not odd to ask a 15 year old choosing GCSEs “What do you want to be?”  Most adults have no answer to such a question, in fact I would go as far as to argue it’s the dumbest question you can ever ask a person. Don’t we mind that we are teaching young people that they are only as worthy as the credit rating they have- that Experian are the ones that can tell you how well your doing in life? In trying to think back to GCSE’s, A levels or even university applications, is the standard line of questioning “What do you love doing? What would you love to do more of?” Or is it “what job will this help you get?” “What job do you want to do?” Since the latter is a question that the majority of us struggle to have a clear cut, box-fit answer to, we set ourselves up for anxiety in 6^th form classrooms, in university lecture theaters  at the desks of that first job we’ve taken ‘while we work out what we really want to do.”

There was a girl at my secondary school- fantastic at sports and simply astounding when it came to drama and acting. Everybody knew, teachers and pupils alike that this kid was something special but she felt that as her talents were not counted as traditionally academic, they were not as valuable because everybody knows that few actually ‘make it’ as an actor/ sportsman, it’s not an acceptable answer when the careers officer comes round the classroom. 

            Because this girl was dedicated and hardworking by nature, she pushed herself very hard and achieved fantastic grades in other subjects, went on to do an incredibly academic subject at university, is a very successful individual and as far as I know, perfectly happy. But it wasn’t without sacrifice, and I have never forgotten that girl from those school days because I always felt that somewhere along the way, our culture’s way of measuring achievement, talents and happiness robbed her of something, told her that what she loved doing was not good enough to go out into the world with.

Connor, my house mate, is interesting example of our flawed education system. He is young and very bright, but didn't fit into suitable government targets or desks for long hours as many young boys don’t. With a system that doesn't cater for learning unless it can be regurgitated in an exam paper, he very easily slipped through the net at school and now works at a local supermarket in between having philosophical debates with me and smoking weed.

                “If you could do anything,” I ask him, “anything, what would you do?”

                “Have sex.”

                “Right, well I’m not sure that’s an option here.”

                “Well you didn’t specify. That’s a dumb question because obviously if I could do anything I’d have sex and eat food.”

                I try a different angle. “What did you like back at school?”

                “Maths, I was good at maths- was a bit of an accident though.”

                “You were accidentally good at maths?”

                “Yeah. I heard there was free food at the maths revision classes on Saturday, three hours long they were those sessions, but all the chicken wings you could eat. Never turn down free food.” He says to me seriously before turning back to the play station. “Got an A for maths I did. Liked DT too; once I tried to pierce my mate Warren’s ear with a nail we were supposed to be using to build bird boxes. Wouldn’t go through, got a well thick ear Warren has, had to jam it til it went POP.

                I picture the school workshop splattered with blood and a student with a large hole in his ear lobe.

                “Why didn’t he get it done properly in a shop??”

                “Because Warren’s a tramp and eight pounds was a lot of money back then.”

                “What about English?”

                “Well Shakespeare is shit, obviously.”

                I say nothing, remembering my friend’s interesting take on why he liked the English language the week before-

                “I like saying the word country.”

                “Any particular reason, or you just feeling patriotic today?”

                “No, it’s because you can say the word CUNT really loudly and then add the word tree on the end and you won’t get into trouble. CUNT-tree. Country. See?

               

Ironically he and his buddy Shakespeare have more in common that he thinks when it comes to puns, but I don’t push my luck pointing it out;

                Hamlet: Lady, shall I lye in your lap?

                Ophelia: No my Lord.

                Hamlet: I meane my head upon your lap?

                Ophelia: Ay, my lord.

                Hamlet: Do you thinke I meant country matters?

                Ophelia: I think nothing my Lord.

                Hamlet: That’s a faire thought to lie between maid’s legs.

These examples aren’t to suggest that all our current schooling system is lacking is copious amounts of free fried food and dirty word puns, but if education, fails to inspire, chokes individuality and growth- is more red tape what such a system needs? Does learning have to be linear? Who said it even has to take place in a classroom??