Another early 80's millennial. I'm a graduate student pursuing an advanced degree in American literature. My dad is now retired but he was an electrician with a union job and, as a hobby, really great at woodworking. He made decent enough money that while me and my sister were growing up, my mom could stay home and raise us. They wanted "smart" kids - didn't teach us to cook, didn't teach us to do laundry, didn't teach us to do woodworking or gardening. They taught us how to shop and that "your home is your best investment." I can't tell you how many times I heard that phrase come out of my mom's mouth. We lived in California. As a California resident, college tuition was super cheap. I graduated high school in 2001, and I can remember when tuition prices first started to creep up. Everyone was shocked when the local community college started offering courses for $10/credit.
$10/credit.
I can't even imagine that now, just over 10 years later.
I graduated with my Bachelor's degree with zero debt because my mom went back to work when I started college. They paid for all of it. Even when I dropped out to "find myself," the confused and directionless brat that I was, and came back after another year, they just went on paying my tuition. I got a BA in Creative Writing. I wanted to be a history teacher but then remembered how desperately I hated attending public high school - why go back? I went to Minnesota, did some political activism, got involved on an organic, permaculture farm. But it was a long drive from the Twin Cities out to the one lone permaculture farm I knew of.
As much as I enjoyed the farm, there came a time when I had to decide what to do with my life. I was working in the security industry, which was unethical in a variety of ways, and I had a little stash of money set aside. I decided to go back to school. It was the only thing I knew I was good at. It was awkward being on the farm; the farmer didn't have a lot of patience and I was kind of this bumbly intellectual trying to help out and doing almost as much harm as good. He finally just put me on the woodsplitter machine. I was good at that.
Seven years later, I'm almost $100,000 in debt. I could have bought houses, plural. I could have bought farms several times over. I'm up to my eyebrows in work, unpaid labor actually, graduate students are exploited to teach bottom-rung classes and universities are being run like businesses until they'll be run into the ground. The next big recession will be that education debt bubble.
I have a lot of regrets. And if we're being honest, a lot of anger. Anger at my parents (love em, of course, but in this topic, anger), anger at my teachers, anger at politicians who let the university model turn into an education industry, even a little resentment at the farmer who didn't have the patience for me. I have read so much about permaculture now. But I can't afford a PDC; I can barely afford my rent month-to-month, especially in the summer while I'm planning courses and not getting paid at all. All I can do is browse the hell out of the internet and stay in the one sensible apartment I've found in my whole life where a little piece of yard (shared with three other neighbors) is mine to do with as I please.
So: urban gardening. Small living. Trying my damnedest to eke out a bit of permie principles while my finances are in utter disarray. Better little by little every month. I have some student loan money socked away in a high-yield savings account and I use the interest for micro-loans to renewable energy companies and my plan will be to use those divdends to keep down the student loans.
And most importantly: I'm a teacher. With a lot of mistakes to share. I love the upcoming generation. Gen Z really has its stuff together. They want to be farmers and live zero-waste. I teach my business students about the cooperative business model and my scientists about trade unions and my farmers about permaculture and just cross my fingers hoping it won't be too little, too late.