educational autobiography first draught

I wasn't going to post this first draft, but what the heck...


Educational Autobiography

   My first clear memory of my education is coming home from kindergarten at East Consolidated Elementary crying about being bored in school. I started going to a first grade for a couple hours per day, then the decision was made to move me to first grade full time starting after Christmas. I must have been a real brat about it, because my second really clear memory is of my kindergarten teacher sarcastically asking me why I couldn't get my star-shaped Santa stencil lined up to fit on the just-right-sized-square sheet of paper I was to trace it on, if I was so smart.

   I had spent two years in my church's pre-school, back when half days was the only option. So, knowing my alphabet and a bit of counting wasn't too surprising, and moving to first grade made sense. By the middle of second grade, I was ahead of most of my classmates again, and my teacher suggested I take the test to try to get into St. Paul's gifted and talented magnet school, J.J. Hill. I scored high enough on the test, and with a lucky draw I began at J.J. Hill the start of my third grade year.

   Academically, the new school was a great change. Almost without exception my classmates came from well-educated families who valued and participated in their children's educations. And all of them were intelligent. But, the new school was on the other side of town, requiring almost an hour on the bus each morning. My school friends mostly lived miles away, meaning we needed to coordinate with parents every time we did anything outside of school. I had to balance school friends with neighborhood friends, and the two cultures didn't always mesh.

   In sixth grade, J.J. Hill moved to a new building and became Capitol Hill. The new school was housed in the same building as several other programs, the largest of which was a K-8 neighborhood school serving the I-94 and Dale area of St. Paul, one of the poorest parts of the city with a largely African-American student body. Starting in 7^th grade, we had shared electives with Benjamin Mays the last two periods of the day. Although, my first elementary school had a diverse student body, by age 12 I was aware of these differences. While in some cases my experience validated stereotypes, I also learned to see people who were different from me as individuals who didn't neatly fit into generalities.

   In 8^th grade, my family moved to the suburb of Woodbury, MN. I finished 8^th grade in St. Paul then started at Woodbury High School. I was again surrounded by and large by other white, native-born Americans with middle-class or wealthier, educated, involved parents. In Woodbury, there was a large concentration of engineers and scientists from the nearby headquarters of 3M, and their influence was palpable in the culture of the school. Math and sciences were emphasized, especially if you showed aptitude. I remember a guest-speaker from 3M coming in to my AP Chemistry class to talk about careers in engineering. $50k per year to do things that came pretty easily to me, probably in a relatively low-stress environment. How could I argue with that?

   As I began to look at colleges, it was through the lens of an engineering degree. I ended up choosing the University of Minnesota because it had strong engineering departments combined with the lowest cost to me. This decision has had lasting impact in many ways. Perhaps the most far-reaching has been in terms of location. I had never lived anywhere but the Twin Cities, but my college years are when I really fell in love with them. If I had attended college in Madison, Evanston or St. Louis I may have ended up with divided geographical loyalties instead of a strong identification with Minneapolis and St. Paul. Had I broadened my search and ended up in Appleton or Asheville, Morris or Bozeman, who can guess how things would have turned out?

   Through my first four years of college, I made somewhat slow, but fairly steady progress toward a Bachelor of Mechanical Engineering degree. I got an internship through the Mechanical Engineering Co-op program, putting money in my pocket and invaluable experience on my resume. Besides internships and a tendency to take the minimum number of credits, I was slowed by my tendency to take extra elective classes in no furtherance of my degree. In 2002, I took this tendency to the extreme, deciding to study for two semesters in Ecuador through the University of Minnesota's program, Minnesota Studies in International Development. This was expressly for my own interest and would gain me no minor, credit toward my major, nothing. It was also at least consciously – if not expressly – to delay my entry into the world of being an grown-up engineer.

   If I went to Ecuador in part to avoid growing up, I was in for a surprise. Although I had been sensitive to the plight of the less fortunate for as long as I can remember, I had never subjected the systems and beliefs that lead to people being in that situation to serious questioning. In Ecuador I was thrown into the middle of the other end of the economic pyramid from my Mid-Western suburban home. In the classroom and out in the streets, we had long-held beliefs challenged by obvious facts. In a period of five months, I went from a general acceptance of our cultural narrative to a reflexive questioning of every assumption I could identify.

   When I decided to return early to the United States, I did not anticipate the degree of culture shock I would feel. It is easy to know that you will be startled by the unfamiliar, whether it's a strange face or a foreign culture. But, when the familiar looks suddenly unrecognizable, a moment's startle can become completely disorienting. A man who sees himself in the mirror looking older than he ever imagined may find himself suddenly questioning a lot of things. Similarly, when I came back I saw in concrete form some of the actions here that cause such damaging ripples down the economic stream. I struggled to find a new place in my old surroundings. I returned to my internship but quit within months over objections to the business practices of the company.

   Convinced by friends and family not to quit school altogether, I changed from majoring in Mechanical Engineering to an Inter-College Program degree using my previous coursework and a new list of classes from the Philosophy department. While the classes were interesting, I was frustrated by the disinterest of many of my classmates, and overwhelmed by returning to the enormous University of Minnesota after studying in Ecuador in an extremely intimate setting. Mid-way through the semester, I abandoned my classes and left the University.

   Without a degree or a desire for a “real” job, I delivered pizzas, worked construction for a friend's start-up business, and worked at Al's Breakfast near campus. When I learned that I would be a father, I started to think about how to move forward. I set my mind on working for the Postal Service: decent pay and benefits without having to feel like I was lending my talents and energy to a company I objected to. I took the test, but my daughter was born before I heard anything back. My girlfriend and I moved to near Minot, North Dakota to be near her family.

   On the day I was offered a job at the Minot Daily News, I heard from the Post Office in St. Paul. A job as a letter carrier paid twice as much, and I would be eligible to transfer to Minot after 18 months, so I took the job in St. Paul and we moved back. From the beginning of my time at the Postal Service, I took an active role in my union, the National Association of Letter Carriers. My activism continued after we moved back up to Minot. Eventually I became president of the Minot branch, and vice-president of the North Dakota State Association, and was selected to attend an exclusive training academy in Washington, D.C.

   While my future with the NALC seemed bright, my circumstances at the Post Office in Minot were dismal. Three Winters of short-staffing had splintered the membership and turned many carriers against the union. Local managers were powerless to fix problems caused by out-of-touch policies imposed from above. Discussions of leaving the Postal Service, whether to return to school or pursue other options, became more frequent. When my marriage finally fell apart and our house flooded, my decision to return to school and finish my degree was nearly finalized.

   When I contacted the University of Minnesota about my options, I was pointed to the Multidisciplinary Studies program. The flexibility of the program seemed like the best way to incorporate my previous coursework with new classes better suited to my current situation and interests.