An Education Wasted

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Abstract

der age of 21, had graduated college with a BA, enrolled in a PhD program, and had exited in favor of playing in a blues band. Mom was not happy! But I digress. That’s not the story.For the next 25 years, I earned my living as either a musician, cab driver, or fisherman — and often mused to myself “exactly why did I go to school at all?” given my chosen occupations.Of course, I probably needed at least an elementary school education to navigate life in those professions. But you get the idea. I certainly had little need for philosophy or calculus.Then at age 46, I got a job working for a magazine that had a significant Spanish-speaking client base. The fact that they were all Hispanic hookers (it was a sex publication) was irrelevant. I’d suffered through 4 years of Spanish classes and though not fluent, could certain

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ly make myself understood in the language.It turned out that the Colombian girls in Queens (situated in neighborhoods only I knew from driving a taxi) got a huge kick out of my schoolboy Spanish. And within a few months, I succeeded in building the publication’s advertising Colombian contingent from 6 to 19. Not surprisingly, I became the boss’s hero.Suddenly, I knew why I’d gone to school. To speak Spanish to Colombian hookers. Who’d-a-thunk? Finally, my education was paying off in a direct way.Of course, I think that everybody should get a good education. I’m not saying that going to school is a waste of time. But for me, an alt personality, it took a long time for all that effort to finally net some results. And as it always seem to go with me, it was in a charceristically offbeat manner.</article></body>

Or maybe not!

Like it or not, I grew up the son of educated parents. Both mom and dad graduated from Columbia University. And though immigrants, three of my four grandparents had college degrees as well. One had a Masters in Mathematics.

So as you can imagine, I was run through the educational mill, and by the tender age of 21, had graduated college with a BA, enrolled in a PhD program, and had exited in favor of playing in a blues band. Mom was not happy! But I digress. That’s not the story.

For the next 25 years, I earned my living as either a musician, cab driver, or fisherman — and often mused to myself “exactly why did I go to school at all?” given my chosen occupations.

Of course, I probably needed at least an elementary school education to navigate life in those professions. But you get the idea. I certainly had little need for philosophy or calculus.

Then at age 46, I got a job working for a magazine that had a significant Spanish-speaking client base. The fact that they were all Hispanic hookers (it was a sex publication) was irrelevant. I’d suffered through 4 years of Spanish classes and though not fluent, could certainly make myself understood in the language.

It turned out that the Colombian girls in Queens (situated in neighborhoods only I knew from driving a taxi) got a huge kick out of my schoolboy Spanish. And within a few months, I succeeded in building the publication’s advertising Colombian contingent from 6 to 19. Not surprisingly, I became the boss’s hero.

Suddenly, I knew why I’d gone to school. To speak Spanish to Colombian hookers. Who’d-a-thunk? Finally, my education was paying off in a direct way.

Of course, I think that everybody should get a good education. I’m not saying that going to school is a waste of time. But for me, an alt personality, it took a long time for all that effort to finally net some results. And as it always seem to go with me, it was in a charceristically offbeat manner.