Talk to any college student about their future, and you're certain to unleash a wave of anxiety. It's the elephant taking up more and more space in the room as graduation draws closer and news of economic downfall refuses to wane.
I'm not worried about finding a job. This may be my own form of denial and unwarranted optimism, but I've waited enough tables to build some loyal references, and the copy?machine is among my recent areas of mastery.
I am quite worried, however, about finding THE job.
Youth activists and the victims of the recession have found common theater for articulating their frustrations. Joining hands to throw stones at wealthy elite and chanting in unison against the system, our peers and our parents claim a common source of anger and despair, and yet our plights are not equal.
While our elders grapple with the risks of foreclosure and flutter the poverty line, our college?educated generation is plagued by another debilitating curse: an inflated sense of entitlement.
We didn't get here on our own. Since we were old enough to read, we've been programmed for the future. We grew up under the assumption that competing at the highest level assured entry to the next round and that we were meant for bigger and better things than our parents. Employers said the chance to work for free was worth more than a paycheck, while colleges promised the 50K?a?year "investment in the future" made you "qualified."
After playing by the rules for the regular season, we have arrived at the playoffs to find that the rules have changed.
The truth is that for many of us, it's not just about the money. Most college students are not in imminent risk that our applications for jobs will soon be replaced with applications for food stamps, and many of us could probably make more serving margaritas than at entry?level positions. It's taking a job "beneath" our capabilities, not unemployment, that's the ultimate defeat - it means mediocrity when we've been prepping for greatness.
For liberals and liberal arts students, these pressures are amplified by a strong sense of societal duty and a deep?rooted aversion to "The Corporation," "The Man," and "Every Employer Offering a (Paying) Position at a Tufts Career Fair." We learned that profit is a euphemism for "sell?out," and that a nine?to?five unequivocally hampers creativity, morality and higher hopes of humanity. Good intentions shouldn't be discredited, but our self?righteousness is not entirely divorced from self?interest: As much as I want the world to change for the better, I want to be the one doing the changing.
We thought a diploma could offer this seamless union between our career course and our life story. We grew up believing that we were too important for "meaningless" work, and that prominence awaits. We heard that making a life is not the same as making a living - but did anyone really expect us to believe that?
Given the outlook for the future, we may have to. Our padded egos may be another casualty of the recession as our visions of self?importance, and their intricate ties with career ambitions, may prove to be groundless.
All of this seems apocalyptic until, of course, we look at the larger context. Our crisis of identity and fulfillment is contraposed with the backdrop of a search for anything that pays the mortgage. While those who grew up after the technological boom are worried about whether they possess skills worthy of a job, the true fear the children of the digital age harbor is whether we will find a job worthy of their skills. So, college graduates of America, "occupy" from sea to shining sea - but we have to admit that it's a much more luxurious dilemma we're facing.
--
