Are We Really Going to Pretend College Is Still Worth It for Everyone?

For decades, Americans have been told the same thing:

Go to college. Get a degree. Get a good job. Build a career. Live happily ever after.

It was practically the American version of a fairy tale. Parents told their kids. Teachers told their students. 

Guidance counselors told teenagers who barely knew what they wanted for lunch that they needed to figure out what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives.

But here's the problem: The world has changed.

The cost of college has exploded. The job market has changed. What employers consider valuable has changed. Technology has eliminated or transformed entire categories of work. And plenty of young people are graduating with degrees, student loans and absolutely no idea why an employer wants three years of experience for an entry-level position.

Yet we're still telling everyone that college is the obvious path to success. Is it though?

College Can Be Worth It. That's Not the Question.

Let's get something out of the way first. College isn't useless. A college education can absolutely be worth the money.

If you want to become a doctor, lawyer, engineer, teacher, pharmacist or another professional whose career requires specialized education and credentials, college isn't exactly optional.

Nobody wants their surgeon saying: “I skipped medical school because YouTube had some pretty good tutorials.”

There are also careers where a degree can provide a significant financial advantage.

We've Confused "College" With "Success"

Somewhere along the way, we started treating college as though it were the finish line.

Get accepted. Graduate. Congratulations. You have successfully completed adulthood.

Except that's not how life works.

A degree is a tool. It isn't a guarantee. A person can graduate from college and still struggle to find a job. Someone can have a degree and work in a field completely unrelated to what they studied.

Someone else can graduate with $100,000 or more in student loans and discover that their starting salary isn't exactly screaming, “Financial freedom!”

Meanwhile, somebody who skipped college might be making six figures as a skilled tradesperson, technician, entrepreneur, salesperson or specialized professional.

That doesn't mean everyone should skip college. It means we should stop pretending there is only one legitimate road to success.

Here's the Part Nobody Likes Talking About

College is expensive. And the price isn't just tuition.

There are books, housing, transportation, food, fees, technology, and at least four years.

That last one is important because if you're spending four years in school, you're also spending four years that could have been used working, gaining experience, building a business, learning a trade or developing a specialized skill.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. But it is a cost.

And if we're going to tell young people that college is an investment, then we should be honest enough to ask the most basic investment question: What's the return?

A Degree Doesn't Guarantee a Career

Here's where the conversation gets uncomfortable.

We've created a system where some students are encouraged to choose majors based on passion while simultaneously being told that college is an investment.

Those two ideas don't always get along.

If you spend tens of thousands of dollars earning a degree in a field with limited employment opportunities, you can't simply pretend the debt doesn't exist because you “followed your passion.”

Passion is wonderful.

Bills are less emotionally supportive.

If someone wants to study philosophy, art history, sociology, communications or another field because they genuinely love it, that's their choice.

But they should also understand what they're buying.

College shouldn't be sold like a lottery ticket where every degree supposedly leads to a six-figure career.

It doesn't.

Meanwhile, Skilled Trades Keep Getting Ignored

Here's one of the strangest parts of the conversation. America constantly talks about labor shortages.

We need electricians, plumbers, HVAC technicians, welders, mechanics, and a whole collection of other skilled professionals.

Yet for years, we've treated vocational education as though it were the consolation prize for students who weren't “college material.”

That's backwards.

A teenager who graduates high school and enters an apprenticeship isn't failing at life. They're learning a skill people are willing to pay for.

And in many cases, they're earning money while someone else is borrowing money to sit in a lecture hall.

Think about how bizarre that is.

One person is collecting experience and a paycheck. The other may be collecting student-loan statements.

And we're still calling the first person unsuccessful because they don't have a bachelor's degree.

Make it make sense.

College Isn't the Only Form of Education

This is another mistake we've made. We've somehow allowed the word “education” to become almost synonymous with “college.” Education happens everywhere.

A person can learn through:

• Apprenticeships
• Trade schools
• Certifications
• Community colleges
• Professional training
• Military service
• Internships
• Entrepreneurship
• Online courses
• Mentorship
• On-the-job experience

A bachelor's degree is one form of education. It isn't the definition of education.

And Don't Get Me Started On The Student Loan Problem

The student loan issue has made the old college-for-everybody philosophy even harder to defend.

Borrowing money to invest in your future isn't automatically irresponsible.

The problem comes when young people are encouraged to borrow enormous amounts of money without understanding what they're buying.

A 17-year-old shouldn't have to understand compound interest, labor-market demand, salary projections and return on investment better than the adults advising them. You need a college degree for that (see what I did there?).

But somebody needs to explain it.

Because “You'll figure it out later” is not a financial strategy. It's how people end up discovering that adulthood comes with invoices.

What Should We Be Telling Young People Instead?

Maybe we should stop asking: “Are you going to college?”

And start asking: “What career are you trying to build, and what is the smartest path to get there?”

That's a completely different conversation.

If college is the best route? Go.

If a trade school is the best route? Go.

If an apprenticeship makes more financial sense? Do it.

If community college can accomplish the same thing for a fraction of the cost? Consider it.

Parents Need to Rethink This Too

Most parents aren't pushing college because they're trying to ruin their children's lives. They're trying to protect them. They remember what happened to people who didn't have educational opportunities.

They believe a degree creates options. And sometimes it does.

But parents also need to recognize that the economy their children are entering isn't necessarily the economy they entered.

The advice that worked in 1995 isn't automatically going to work today.

That's one of the hardest things about parenting. You have to prepare your child for a world that may not resemble the one that prepared you.

The Real Question Is ROI

Maybe we need to stop asking whether college is “worth it.”

That's too broad. Instead, ask: Is this particular degree, at this particular price, for this particular career, worth the investment?

That's a much better question.

Because a $20,000 education that leads to a $75,000 career looks very different from a $120,000 education that leads to a $50,000 career.

And that's the part of the conversation that often gets ignored.

College Should Be a Choice, Not a Requirement for Respect

There should be no shame in earning a degree. There should also be no shame in not earning one.

A person's intelligence, work ethic, character, or potential isn't determined by whether they attended college.

There are educated people who make terrible decisions (ex. Congress). There are people without bachelor's degrees who are exceptionally intelligent, successful and financially responsible.

The diploma tells you something about someone's educational path. It doesn't tell you everything about the person.

So, Is College Still Worth It?

Absolutely. For some people. Is college still worth it for everyone? Absolutely not.

And pretending otherwise doesn't help young people. It hurts them.

Maybe the goal shouldn't be creating a society where everybody has a bachelor's degree.

Maybe the goal should be creating a society where people have useful skills, sustainable careers, financial independence and the freedom to choose their path without being judged for it.

Because if the ultimate goal of education is to prepare people for life, then perhaps we should stop measuring success by whether everyone took the same four-year detour to get there. 

I Switched to LED Bulbs, Bought Energy-Efficient Appliances, and My Electric Bill Is STILL Sky-High!

At what point does saving energy starts saving us money?

Can somebody explain something to me?

We replaced every light bulb in the house with LED bulbs. We bought Energy Star appliances. We invested in energy-efficient technology, turned off lights when we left a room, lowered the thermostat, and did everything we were told would help reduce our electric bills.

Meanwhile, we're constantly hearing about massive solar farms, wind farms, and the future of renewable energy. We're told these advancements will make energy cleaner, more efficient, and eventually more affordable.

So, with all these improvements, why does my electric bill still feel like it's climbing?

Seriously, where are my savings?

I'm not against energy efficiency. I'm all for technology that makes our lives easier and reduces waste. If I can use less electricity and pay less money, sign me up.

But somewhere along the way, the promise of saving money seems to have gotten lost in the fine print.

Think about it. We've changed how we light our homes, how we heat and cool them, and even the appliances we use every day. Some people even allow their power companies to control their thermostats (not for me). 

We've embraced the idea that being more energy-conscious is not only good for the environment but also good for our wallets.

Yet, when that monthly bill arrives, it feels like the only thing getting more efficient is how quickly my money disappears. And that's the part that deserves an explanation.

If consumers are doing their part to reduce energy consumption, shouldn't we see some meaningful financial benefit? If technology is improving and energy production is evolving, why does the average household still feel like it's fighting an uphill battle just to keep the lights on?

Now, I understand that electricity prices depend on more than the amount of energy we use. Infrastructure, fuel costs, maintenance, and other factors all play a role. But that doesn't change the frustration of doing everything right and still feeling like you're getting nowhere.

Here's my question: Are these energy-saving advancements actually making life more affordable for everyday people, or are we simply being asked to spend more money to keep up with a system that never seems to get cheaper?

Now the cynical side of me knows that there's no such thing as "saving money" in America. Power companies will save money by you having these energy-efficient items putting less stress on their equipment. But God forbid if the people get relief, right?

This country isn't designed that way. America will put profit over people all day, every day.

The Life I Might Have Lived If I Had Never Attended an HBCU

I sometimes wonder what my life would look like if I had never attended an HBCU.

Not because I think attending an HBCU magically made me who I am. It didn't.

But I do believe it changed the direction I was headed.

And the funny thing is, I almost didn't go.

From kindergarten through high school graduation, I attended predominantly white schools. I grew up in a Black neighborhood, but most of the Black kids in my neighborhood went to the same schools I did. So while I was surrounded by Black people at home, my educational experience was predominantly white and it was the same for the kids in my neighborhood.

That was simply my normal.

When it came time for college, my plan was to attend a predominantly white institution.

It made sense. It was what I knew.

Then reality showed up with a financial aid package. The PWI offered me a partial academic scholarship. An HBCU offered me a full academic scholarship.

Now, I'm many things, but stupid isn't one of them. I went where the money was.

And that decision changed my life.

I Thought I Knew What It Meant To Be Black

I had already started becoming more conscious of my Black identity during my teenage years. My father played a major role in that. So did music.

Public Enemy. Boogie Down Productions. Artists who weren't exactly making songs designed to keep everybody comfortable at the dinner table. They were giving me information, perspectives and questions that weren't necessarily being handed to me in school.

I was beginning to understand that being Black in America wasn't simply about the color of my skin.

There was history behind it that wasn't being taught. There was culture behind it that I didn't always see. There were experiences behind it that I never really had.

There were things my parents understood because they had lived them that I hadn't yet experienced myself. I was beginning the journey.

But the HBCU solidified it.

Same Skin. Different Experiences.

One of the most eye-opening things about attending an HBCU wasn't simply being surrounded by Black people. I had been surrounded by Black people my entire life in my neighborhood. It was realizing that we hadn't all experienced America the same way.

I would meet somebody and we'd start talking about where we grew up, what school was like, how teachers treated them, what their neighborhoods were like, what their parents taught them, and what they thought about race.

And sometimes I'd think: Wow. We are both Black, but we came through two completely different worlds.

I had been educated in predominantly white schools. Some of my HBCU classmates had spent their entire educational careers surrounded primarily by Black teachers and Black students.

Their reference points were different. Their experiences were different. Their understanding of certain racial dynamics was different.

And instead of making me think one group was right and the other was wrong, it made me realize something much more important: Context matters.

I Learned To Pay Attention

Before college, I knew how to interact with people. The diversity of my upbringing gave me that. But the HBCU taught me to pay attention to something else: how people were interacting with me.

I started noticing the difference between being accepted and being tolerated. Those two things can look remarkably similar if you aren't careful.

That didn't mean every uncomfortable interaction was racism. It didn't mean every white person secretly disliked Black people. And it certainly didn't mean every Black person automatically had my best interests at heart.

It meant I became more observant.

The HBCU taught me to look beyond the surface of an interaction and consider the circumstances surrounding it.

• Look at the history.
• Look at the behavior.
• Look at the pattern.
• Look at the context.
• Then make your judgment.

That was discernment.

My HBCU Didn't Teach Me To Hate White People

This is where I think the conversation about HBCUs sometimes gets unnecessarily stupid. There are people who hear "HBCU" and immediately assume that students are being taught some kind of anti-white ideology. 

That wasn't my experience at all. My HBCU didn't teach me to hate white people. It taught me to love Black people.

There's a difference. A pretty important one.

Loving your own people doesn't require hating somebody else's. Understanding Black history doesn't require rewriting everybody else's history.

Being proud of Black accomplishments doesn't require pretending other people haven't accomplished anything.

And learning about racism doesn't mean believing every white person is racist. That's kindergarten-level thinking.

My HBCU gave me something I hadn't fully received before: A concentrated education in Black history, culture and experience.

Not because Black history is the only history that matters. But because it was the history I had the least opportunity to learn about in the educational environments I came through.

What I Didn't Know I Didn't Know

That's probably the biggest gift the HBCU gave me. It showed me how much I didn't know. Not just about Black history. About myself.

Growing up in a predominantly white school system, I became accustomed to an environment that didn't always center my culture or my history. I didn't necessarily recognize what was missing because I didn't know what I was missing.

The HBCU started filling in some of those blanks.

I encountered stories, perspectives and pieces of Black history that weren't part of the education I had received growing up.

And suddenly, some things I had heard from my father while growing up made more sense.

Some of the music I'd been listening to made more sense.

Some of the things I had observed but couldn't quite articulate finally had context.

It was like somebody handed me several missing pages from a book I'd been reading my entire life.

What If I Had Gone To The PWI?

This is the question I keep coming back to :What if I had received that partial scholarship and gone to the PWI?

I probably would have done fine. That's the strange part. 

I already knew that environment. I probably would have graduated, gotten a job, built relationships and continued living my life.

Maybe I would have eventually discovered more about Black history.

Maybe I would have become more conscious of racial dynamics through work, relationships, travel, books, music or simply getting older.

Maybe.

But I don't know.

What I do know is that I wouldn't have had the exact experience that changed me.

I wouldn't have sat across from people whose Black experiences were completely different from mine and had those conversations.

I wouldn't have heard their stories.

I wouldn't have had those moments where I realized that two people could share the same skin color while having completely different understandings of what that skin color meant in America.

And I wouldn't have had the same environment in which to explore my own identity.

That's the part people sometimes miss about education.

Education isn't only about what somebody puts on a chalkboard.

Sometimes it's about who you meet.

Sometimes it's about the conversations you have in a dorm room at 2 AM.

Sometimes it's about realizing that something you thought was universal was actually just your personal experience.

Sometimes the most important lesson isn't: "Here's the answer."

It's: "You need to ask a better question."

The HBCU Expanded My World

My HBCU didn't shrink my world. It expanded it. I went into college with a broad understanding of how to interact with people from different backgrounds. I came out with a much deeper understanding of my own.

That may sound like a small distinction. It wasn't. It gave me another lens.

It taught me that Black history isn't simply a collection of dates, famous names and February school projects.

• It is connected to American history.
• It is connected to economics.
• It's connected to education.
• It's connected to neighborhoods.
• It's connected to music.
• It's connected to politics.
• It's connected to family.
• It's connected to how people see themselves and how other people see them.

And sometimes, understanding those connections changes the way you interpret things happening right in front of you.

That doesn't mean automatically blaming racism for every negative experience.

It means not automatically dismissing it either.

Again: Context.

I Didn't Leave With Hatred. I Left With Perspective.

That's probably the simplest way I can explain what the HBCU did for me.

It didn't teach me to hate. It taught me to understand.

It didn't make me suspicious of everyone who wasn't Black. It made me more conscious of the world around me.

It didn't teach me that Black people are better than white people. It taught me that Black people have a history worth knowing, a culture worth understanding and accomplishments worth celebrating.

Most importantly, it gave me a stronger sense of identity.

I had spent the first 17 years of my life learning in an environment where Blackness wasn't necessarily the center of the educational experience.

My HBCU gave me the opportunity to make it part of the center of mine. That's a lesson I might have eventually learned somewhere else.

But I don't know.

And that's why I sometimes wonder about that other version of my life.

The version where the PWI gave me the full scholarship.

The version where I never stepped onto an HBCU campus.

The version where I never met all those people who came from experiences completely different from mine.

Maybe I would have turned out exactly the same.

I seriously doubt it.

Because sometimes the most important decisions we make aren't the ones we carefully plan.

Sometimes they're the decisions made because one school offered you a partial scholarship and another school offered you a full ride.

Sometimes the universe has a strange sense of humor. And sometimes, apparently, financial aid is destiny.

One thing I know for sure though... I did four years of school without needing a student loan. 

Won't He do it?