I think I now know how I got myself into debt...

This week after grabbing dinner, Alice and I decided to visit our favorite overpriced store to see what we could see on the clearance racks. It was during this venture that I figured out the root of my issue with spending money I don't necessarily have on things I don't necessarily need.

I can now say that I blame it on my imagination and overly strong sense of empathy. I've been trained (by myself? by the media?) to see the potential of every diamond in the rough. And during clothing shopping this tendency manifests itself like a bad rash.

"Oooh," I think, "that knitted poncho could toast me right up during the cold winter months in my classroom!" I think. "I'd be like the school's eccentric/sophisticated/slightly hippy-ish English teacher wearing that." I think. These mistakes have found their way into my goodwill bag time and time again.

And so, my insanely active imagination expressed itself full force once again during our most clearance rack browsing trip. 

It all started when I saw IT: a vanilla colored, asymmetrical/chunky knitted collar, synched slightly at the waist, hits just below the hip, dressy-casual masterpiece at 75% off. At that price, this coat was a steal!

In this coat I could make men swoon. In this coat women would drool with envy and attack me with sharp claws when they found out the clearance special I nailed. In this coat, I would fall in love with the man of my dreams in a chick-flick-esque love montage: building a snowman together with my coat and maybe a bright knitted hat and matching mittens, kissing in the snow with that coat, walking through a brisk autumn in central park together, my coat standing out against the leaves. This coat, my coat, would star in this whirlwind romance. Imagine with me:

plus

plus

*kind of what it looked like but not really even close at all because my coat was even more splendid and I am certain I looked better than some skinny, faceless catalogue model

equals

*only the jump for joy would include my coat

I saw every last reel stream through my head and I hadn't even pulled it off the rack. When I put it on it got worse, trust me. This coat was dreamy and beautiful and looked even better on than hanging there, lifeless. And did I mention it was on SALE?




But I didn't buy it.

Oh, I took it into the dressing room with me and a smoking hot red dress (that was too tight in all the wrong places and quite itchy, really). I paraded the coat for Alice to see. I stared in the mirror at me in my coat. But amongst the reels of my future's movie footage, a few key facts kept bludgeoning in on my shopping nirvana:

1. I already own several casual coats and two dressy-er clearance coats. One red, one black. They haven't fulfilled their imaginative promises yet.

2. I spill or accidentally rub everything on me from dry erase marker dust to salsa. And here I was foaming at the mouth for a CREAM coat.

3. 75% off at my favorite overpriced store isn't really that much of a steal, especially when it's in the coat department. And I didn't have the available cash so it would without doubt be going on my credit card.

4. There isn't really a four, but one through three sort of kept reoccurring again and again and again, interrupting my imagination incessantly.

The final slap in the face came when Alice, who supported my purchase because she knows better than to stop me when I get "that glazed over, far off stare" in my eyes (her exact words describing me while facing any and all clearance racks), said, "that's kind of like Cameron Diaz's coat in The Holiday."

That is when I knew I couldn't get it. I was duped by my own imagination and too many chick flicks over the years. The purchase would be impractical and stupid. It wouldn't bring world peace or the man of my dreams.  It promised nothing, not even to keep me all that warm.  And I'd probably get a bloody nose or worse the first time I took it out on the town.  And, after all, I'd just have to pay it off when the bill came.

And so, I've learned what my problem is when it comes to the ever-stuffed-can't-find-ANYTHING-in-here closet. We can blame my imagination.  Yes, all the lies my imagination tells me as it runs away from me all the way to the counter where it pulls out my card and buys unfulfilled promises.

P.S. A little piece of me still wishes I had that coat.  

P.P.S.  Does anybody else do this too?  Tell me I don't need help!

Harvard-Schmarvard

I have a student. Okay, let me rephrase that, I have several students. But I have a particular student that will be my example for this particular post. Said student is brilliant and talented: 3.9 GPA, multiple AP classes under his belt, outstanding SAT and ACT test scores, and he's only a junior. And what adds to his brilliance is that he came to the United States a short five years ago with no knowledge of the English language. One other thing: said student is dead set on heading to Stanford after graduation for an eventual MD. He wants to be a surgeon.

I think it is admirable that he is so accomplished and has set such a high standard for himself. You hear "Stanford" and, without fail, whispered oooh's and ahhh's will follow. And Stanford is, of course, impressive. And Stanford is, of course, expensive. And because of this Stanford is, of course, tough to get into. The competition is fierce, so I hear.

So Alice heard about this kid (because she hears all about my student concerns...no names mentioned, of course) when I was helping this particular student with his application process to a summer institute held at Stanford. And when she heard about this kid, and my concerns that his heart was so set on this school and what if he just didn't get in?, we got to talking about disappointment and and decisions and college and student loan debt and brand names and learning. We like conversations like this, Alice and me.

And so here I am, thinking about seventeen year olds and major decisions like choosing a college, career and future. Big, life-altering decisions. And it all has me thinking about the lies we tell kids. Lies like "Harvard is one of the best colleges in the United States" or "if you don't take at least X amount of AP classes or participate in X number of extracurricular activities, you can kiss college goodbye." Lies that, if you think about it, just aren't true.

Now, is Harvard a good school. I'm sure it is. It is well-reputed, has impressive law and business schools and a beautiful campus. But the question at hand remains: is it the best school for this particular student? Is it affordable? Are the class sizes too small, too big? What is the student population like and will this kid find a niche there? And will this kid be paying back tuition plus interest on student loans until their 80th birthday? And, while colleges expect a certain level of academic ability, is it realistic to believe that if one bombs one's AP US History exam then one is automatically doomed for life? And is there anything all that wrong with going local?

I guess I'm asking all of this because I think that at 17 or 18, with no real exposure to the college experience, we're using some pretty nasty scare tactics on some very vulnerable victims. I'm sayin' it like it is and the emperor is nekked, people. I say that maybe, just maybe, parents and guidance counselors and schools are pushing kids in this direction because it, dare I say it...it makes THEM look good. Not because it is best for that student. Not because it is the best fit for that individual, but because we all believe that Harvard is impressive and the State school is, well, average to mediocre. And if I taught/guided/raised a Harvard student than that says something about me. Yes, yes, I'm so happy for them, but look what I did!

Lies like these kind of tick me off. On the other side of these lies we tell, there are kids. Impressionable, overworked, and overtired children. Yes, they're adolescents who lean toward the obnoxious at times. But they are children, nonetheless. And on the other side of these lies are high school kids who walk through life like zombies. They lack social lives (unless it involves an activity that looks good on a resume). They lack sleep. They lack family time. They lack balance. Life is a thing lived to get oneself into a "good" college in order to live the "good" life. And I don't think many of them are all that happy. And I'm not sure if this kind of pressure is healthy for anyone.

I'm not saying some pressure is a bad thing, but I worry that we have invented a generation of Super Students rather than Super Human Beings. And that, friends and brethren, bodes well for none of us. (Plus, I think it is bad paying back my student loans...there are worse things, folks, far worse!).

Them are me thoughts.

Signing out,
The Rookie (who happened to attend and graduate from a local state college and had a college experience she wouldn't trade for any ivy-infested leagues)