New perspectives

It is not always easy to be a twenty-nine-year-old undergraduate. Most of my friends finished college a long time ago, and they are doing things like getting married, buying houses, and making money. For them, the days of studying all night for exams ended long ago, and most of them will probably never read Chaucer or Foucault for pleasure.
There are times when I feel a little out of place with even my closest friends, as if I am somehow lagging behind in the foot race that is life. Of course, it helps to have Ivy League credentials—it is always satisfying to know that I am a Columbia student. If I have learned anything at all in my time here, it is that this education is worth its weight in social capital. Although this is deeply satisfying, out in the “real world” I often feel as if the non-traditional path that led me to Columbia’s School of General Studies took me on an inconvenient detour.

Of course, being a little behind isn’t all bad—if I stayed on the traditional path to higher education, I probably never would have met Kelli. She is the love of my life, and the single reason that I decided to finish school. Living in Fairfield County, Connecticut is next to impossible when you make $12 per hour, and without a degree, I would probably have spent the rest of my life trying to figure out how to make it happen. I knew if I was going to be any good for her, I needed to do something that would make our lives easier. You see, I watched my parents struggle, I watched them fight about money, and I watched them split up because of it. They are good people, but I never want to face the same hardships that they faced. Kelli is too special and she deserves a better life than that.

It is not always easy to sustain a healthy relationship while keeping up with a hectic class schedule. I used to come home to her every day after work, but now we only see each other on weekends. During the semester, it seems like I never have enough time to spend with her. I feel like I am always leaving her at home so that I can get back to the paper that I’m writing or the book that I’m reading. It feels unfair, even though we both know that it’s for the best. Most of all, I know she understands.

One thing I’ve learned since coming to Columbia is that relationships—real ones—take work. It isn’t always fun and games. Kelli and I often find ourselves talking our way through anger and frustration, but we are always able to get through these emotions with a deeper appreciation for each other. Really, support and understanding is the heart and soul of our relationship. Even though we don’t see each other as often as we used to, I know that she believes in what I am trying to accomplish here at Columbia. She knows it’s for us, and I know that I couldn’t do it without her support. That is the essence of this experience—it is richer and much more satisfying because she is a part of it.

My first attempt at college was unsuccessful because my only reason for being there was to earn my diploma so that I could get a job. This is not to say that I don’t hope to leave Columbia with job prospects—after all, I’ve been broke enough to know that money is a nice thing to have. But this isn’t the only reason I am here. My present experience is far better because each night when I get home, before I practice my Chinese characters or read Hegel for my philosophy class, I talk to Kelli on the phone. Her voice reminds me why I get up in the morning, why I work hard in my classes, and why I have invested so much money in this education. We may have to wait a little longer than our friends to get married or to buy a house, but that’s okay. After all, life isn’t a competition. Simply knowing that I will always have Kelli in my life is what has made all the difference.

The author is a student in the School of General Studies. He is a Spectator editorial board member.