How I got out of college.

I graduated from high school in 1988 and went to college the next semester. I applied to Rutgers, Glassboro State, and an out of state college that I don't remember. I ended up going to Rutgers because I was paying for this, and I didn't have to live in a dorm. I became a college commuter.

Mind you, I did not want to go to college. I just assumed that I was expected to go to college and learn how to do something so I could get a job. My parents did not go to college, although my dad took some business courses at a community college when I was 7 or 8. When I was younger, I wanted to be a "journalist," because I thought I knew what that was. I changed my mind after I found out. Since being a famous rock star wasn't an option, I started to gravitate towards being a teacher, because I didn't know what else to do. I had some very good teachers in my time, and I was hoping to inspire kids like my teachers inspired me.

I did not want to go to college because I was sick to death of school. I used to be pretty smart, and I got bored a lot. There were subjects I really liked, such as English and Algebra. I could always wait until the last minute to write a paper and still get a good grade. I also liked Physics, but I was really bad at it. I liked US History, but not European History. I was disgusted with having to take classes that I had no interest in and would not help me in my search for a career. I thought that college would be different, which is why I didn't express my feelings about going.

I'm not really great with change, and as you may know, college is a very immense change. I did not know anyone at Rutgers, and this is when I started having trouble making friends. I didn't talk to anyone, I sat in the back of the class (some of them were so huge compared to high school that you could lose yourself in them), and I never raised my hand for any reason. In the first semester, I took classes that I thought I would like, mainly English courses (Expository Writing, which was my favorite, and Satire and Poetry classes), and Psychology. I was told I had to take a history course, so I took US History.

I hated the feeling that I got when I went to college. I felt small and panicked all the time I was there, and I didn't want to be there in the first place. I did badly my first semester, no Fs but a D and a C, and I got As and Bs in my English courses. I was in the top 10% in high school, so for me, this was very bad. The second semester was even worse. There were no reprimands for skipping class. I discovered the carrels on the second floor of the campus library, and I felt very safe there. Mark Lewisohn's The Beatles: Recording Sessions came out around this time, and I brought it with me to school. I would go to the student center and get a snack and spend class time in the carrel with the Beatles. I believe I failed 2 courses that semester. I remember writing in an essay book in a final exam that I was in over my head and didn't know what I was doing in college, without answering any of the essay questions. The professor gave me a D but never spoke to me about it.

In my 3rd semester, I declared my major, which is when you were supposed to do it. Unfortunately, my major had a course requirement for freshman year and ONLY freshman year, which really didn't make any sense to me and added to my downward spiral. I did have two good classes that semester, another writing class and a music theory class. Still, I didn't feel like I belonged there. I started to skip class to go to work in my dad's bakery, which is when you know it's bad. He would ask why I was there so early, and I would tell him that the professor didn't show up.

My grandfather was in the hospital during my third semester. I would go and visit and sit with him every few days. He was there from September until December. I was really worried about him, and that probably contributed to my lack of concentration (to put it lightly) at school.

Right before finals I just gave up. I was doing very poorly that semester; it was probably my worst school period ever, including when I used to get picked on in junior high. I didn't tell any of my professors or the school that I was leaving. I paid what tuition I owed and stopped going. I was relieved, but nervous about what I would tell my parents. But it happened that my grandfather was getting out of the hospital then, and he needed constant care. He could do nothing except feed himself. I told my parents that I wasn't going back to school, and they said it was fine, but I was going to have to help take care of my grandfather, in addition to working at the bakery. I was not looking forward to this, but I thought it would be far better than college.

I have heard people say they have hit rock bottom in their lives. I always considered myself lucky because I thought I never experienced this. But thinking about my first college experience, and the accompanying gloom, aimlessness, and soul crushing dread, I hope that I can say that the worst is behind me.