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10 Reasons You Should Become a B Student

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Time and Clocks

My definition and intention with frugality has remarkably little to do with money. Rather, I’m motivated to save and protect time. Being frugal allows me time to read, write, and enjoy my time with friends — it’s not just about padding my bank account. With a lower cost of living, I can maximize my work-life balance.

As a Ph.D. student, I’ve been asked how I have time to “do it all.” Doctoral programs tend to be arduous and lengthy. But I usually blanche at this hyper work-focused “compliment,” which usually comes from peers and fellow colleagues. They look at my “accomplishments” and wonder the recipe. They quickly surmise it takes lots of time.

It’s not true and doesn’t accurately represent my values. Once I got into graduate school I threw away the perpetual drive for good grades and professor’s good graces. While I care about what they think, I’m not motivated to perform in the classroom. I don’t really care about essays or exams. My heart and efforts are always outside the classroom.

When I was an undergraduate student at Colorado State University, I realized A grades were very difficult to achieve. The plan often included late cram sessions, lost weekends, sacrificed social gatherings, flashcards, and fewer passions outside academia. Not only was I paying to be there, I was without time for anything but school.

To know what an A grade took also meant knowing what a B felt like. In college, the B is considered the new average. It didn’t feel like an option to “slack off” and shoot for Bs. But I knew that Bs were easier to receive and life became relaxed. I could get a B in almost any class with a bit of study and meeting expectations for essays. I didn’t have to stress and worry and struggle. It just happened. As soon as I entered graduate school, this new philosophy took hold.

Today, the answer is simple for my acknowledged “successes”: I’m a self-identified B student. For many of my peers it’s hard to let go of the control, academic achievement, and rigor for classroom activities. I can’t blame others, as we’ve usually spent about two decades in training and indoctrination. Doing anything less than stellar inside the classroom is tantamount to treason. Unfortunately, by failing to let go of this mentality, time is lost. It’s time to think about another, better way.

Here are ten reasons you should become a B student:

1. Develop a well-rounded life (and resume/CV)

In the academic world, a resume is called a curriculum vitae (“CV”), but the same general rules apply. Everything related to my studies (work, research, teaching, and clinical work), which will be used for future employment, is in this document. My CV serves as a history of involvement and diversity of activities. It says a little something about who I am and want to be perceived as. But my grades and GPA don’t represent me. In fact, I don’t even put my GPA on my CV. My goal now is to develop a well-rounded life. If beneficial experiences for future employment come around, perfect!

2. Participate in anything at the flick of a finger

Previously, I was held back when offered opportunities to participate. I remember all the way back to high school when I declined an opportunity to travel for a golf-team match because of a class conflict. School frequently came first. When I relinquished some of the focus and power on classroom materials, I could — without much concern — participate in activities that enriched my schedule and made me happy. Recently, a professor asked about serving on a committee and I immediately said yes. If it means a grade suffers, that’s an okay trade off.

3. Stay grounded with your friends

Academic endeavors never trump friendships and relationships. A class is for a semester, these people are (ideally) for life. Curiously, I think I believed this, even as an A student. I would stress over friendships while in class, and feel pressure upon leaving to study more. It was the vicious cycle. Now, friends are a huge priority in my life. Interestingly, with better, healthier friendships first, my grades got better. What strange logic, right?

4. Read for fun

In my second year of graduate school, motivated by the master note-taker, Tim Ferriss, I began tracking how many books I read. It was abysmal at first, but over the next few years it rapidly escalated. To lose myself in a good book is more powerful than a class could ever really be. It’s just me and the book — wherever we go. In the last three years, I’ve read 51 books — all while “achieving,” “publishing,” and getting fine recommendations from professors. And yet, it had nothing to do with grades. Intriguingly, like the preceding reason, my essay writing improved because of the reading. I can write faster and with greater clarity — all while maintaining a B average.

5. Brainstorm and cultivate new methods to earn

Remember how I said time is the key variable? Well, being able to renegotiate my academic schedule allows me to find ways to earn money, too. As a student for years, I cannot and do not accept the rationale that it’s okay to take on more debt to focus on academics. Instead, I redirect time gained from being a B student to endeavors like Frugaling. They’re passion projects, which hone my writing ability and have healthy income benefits.

6. Encourage creative thinking

Classrooms tend to emphasize rule-following, timeliness, intrinsic motivation, and rote memorization. And don’t get me started on the dry, pedantic, boring textbooks! I’ve rarely been encouraged to be creative within a classroom. Actually, I take that back… There was art class in third grade. But aside from elementary school, creativity has been stifled and discouraged. An essay has objective and traditionally strict expectations. The professors have grading rubrics. Staying and coloring within the lines is a must. By breaking out of the classroom mindset, I can draw, write, photograph, and participate in the world as I see fit.

7. Write for fun

I didn’t like writing when I was younger. Writing was associated with classwork. It was a chore and/or homework assignment. Writing never let me be free — it only asked of me. Then, as I stole back time, writing became a love. I process my thoughts, concerns, and inner debates in words. The words can be read back years later — providing an arc and timeline to my days.

8. Advocate within your community

I’m a firm believer in social justice. Essentially, social justice is about working to correct society’s wrongs. An example of this would be the recent advocacy for affordable housing that I worked on last semester. Vulnerable populations were being disturbed by rapidly escalating rental prices in the university/campus community in Iowa City. I felt like participating and providing a voice. My grades and classroom involvement waned. Those textbook readings and presentations didn’t much matter to direct action. I will never forget that advocating for others is far more important than an A.

9. Stop defining yourself by your grades

Grades used to represent my identity. To be an average or above average student wasn’t enough of a title. I was desperate for excellence. This drive for titles was an insecurity of mine. Without excellence, who was I? Was I a good enough student for graduate school, employment, etc.? What I learned is grades are terrible measure of a person. When I refocused my time, I lost unhealthy competition, sleepless nights before exams, and stress throughout the semester. Now, I’m defined by my actions around school — not in it.

10. Embrace the weekend

Whereas weekends used to be dedicated to studying and writing essays, now they are largely for recharging. I write for Frugaling on the weekends (usually). I read for fun on the weekends. I hang out with friends on the weekends. I run when it’s sunny on the weekends. All it took was the acceptance of the second letter of the alphabet: Mr. B.

Should We Put An End To Mortgages?

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Apartment Complex

“The reason they call it the American Dream is because you have to be asleep to believe it.”
–George Carlin

Mortgage loans have been around for centuries. In the late 1700s, colonists used loans to encourage settlement and economic expansion on federal lands. The leaders of the new world parcelled out land, while encouraging lower classes to settle and build. Ironically, these lands were calculated, bought, and sold as if these new owners always laid claim to the land — denying Native Americans the right of ownership, executing them, and pushing them further and further West.

Nonetheless, the colonies and post-Revolutionary War period in America included basic mortgage loans. Eventually, in the 1900s, these loans grew in popularity and necessity. Homes, condos, and bare land was more expensive and unaffordable for the working classes. Increasingly, people needed financial support to invest in real estate — to find shelter.

Thankfully, banks were available to help everyone out. Without financial institutions and their mortgages, it’s unclear what would’ve happened. In today’s economy and real estate market, most people are unable to afford a house without credit. On the surface, it seems that many Americans would be homeless or forced to forever rent — unable to own. We’re forced to choose mortgages without a substantial alternative.

But let’s hypothesize for a moment. What would happen if mortgages suddenly disappeared? What if they weren’t an option for the impoverished, working classes, or even middle classes of America? What if banks were unable to write even one more loan?

For starters, it’s likely the entire real estate market would collapse. The decimation of domestic markets would domino throughout the world, and cause an economic meltdown. People would be unable to eat, shop, or pay for their continued existence. Landowners would quickly benefit from skyrocketing rental prices, but huge swaths of population would be forced to seek shelter elsewhere. The working classes would need to leave en masse from cities.

The end of mortgages would spell destruction and terror for the financial institutions that profit from their existence. Banks — big and small — would go belly up. Insurance companies would cease to exist. And a slew of related industries would (i.e., from appraisers to real estate agencies to utility companies) struggle to continue. The stock market would follow the steep declines elsewhere as the economic engine would slow to a halt. Money would be stuck. Over time, trillions of dollars would disappear — poof! — from the world markets. They wouldn’t return, either.

My, how powerful a few documents can be! Imagine how one contract prevents global catastrophe — end times. Moreover, that this agreement separates people behind walls — street and shelter.

Mortgage loans make little sense, though. The continued propping up of home prices through financial instruments ensures working classes spend the rest of their lives working. Renting isn’t much better either. With little incentive to build affordable housing for working classes, builders have increasingly constructed luxury condos for upper middle classes and beyond. A recent Yahoo Finance article highlights this shift:

“…a growing number of Americans must spend more than 30 percent of their income on rent — a level that the government considers financially burdensome. Over the past decade, that number has jumped from 14.8 million to 21.3 million, or 49 percent of all renters.

“A surge in apartment construction has done little to help address this problem because in many metro areas, a large proportion of new apartments are concentrated at higher-income levels. The median rent on a newly built apartment was $1,372 a month in 2014, about $500 more a month than what about half of renters could afford without being financially burdened.”

This story exemplifies the catch-22 for working classes: either fork over astronomical, burdensome amounts in rent or “purchase” a home through mortgage loans. Either way, banks and other financial institutions are complicit in the bubble. They own your future. Unless you’re independently wealthy, you lose.

Increased access to capital through mortgage loans encourages people to buy bigger homes than need at prices they can’t afford. Homebuilders respond by building bigger homes and charge more for new developments. Families and households buy more to fill bigger homes, as well. The cycle is vicious, expensive, motivated by consumption, and facilitated by an endless supply of cheap money via the Federal Reserve. It’s the antithesis of minimalism, frugality, and simple living, but we have little choice than to participate.

As the story continues, wholesale gentrification of vulnerable communities can occur. Those with poor credit and/or unable to make down or monthly payments must vacate. To refuse the paradigm means leaving good neighborhoods and schools. Home prices are propped and buoyed by the continued investments of the masses. Banks encourage people to spend more than they can afford on spaces larger than they need. And all I can think is, “Who were these mortgages meant to benefit?”

A mortgage is less a contract with your bank, and more a contract with your employer. To take out a 30-year mortgage loan is a financial conscription to work. It’s a benefit to your employer and guarantee for decades. You can’t stop working, as the consequence would be disastrous. Mortgage loans are the perfect economic engine for the wealthiest of our economy. They can make vast sums from borrowers and sit back to watch their money multiply.

Sadly, we’ve accepted these rules. We’ve cozied up to banks and pledged to pay them back for half our remaining lives.We’ve played the game by repeatedly checking FICO scores. We’ve shown them our good credit (when possible) as examples of personal responsibility, when it says nothing of systemic bias, racism, and uncontrolled job loss.

We are left with few choices. I dream of resisting the system and regularly think about living in a van or tiny home, but I’m afraid my partner and family wouldn’t care for this reality.

As a future psychologist, I’ll be lucky to make $65,000 to $75,000 to start out, which would necessitate participation in the mortgage loan game. And this says nothing of the student loan debt that would be necessary to pay off six years of doctoral education.

No house could be purchased outright unless I worked for decades and lived in a passenger van in the meantime. Yet, one of the most fundamental psychological needs is shelter. Without it, we cannot talk about saving money, cooking at home, or living well. People need the safety of shelter, but over the centuries, our homes have ballooned in price and size. Our inflated budgets have been decimated by a simple financial tool that we accept as a necessity for existence.

Nobody seems to bat an eye. Nobody says this is senseless. Nobody resists the status quo. Rent or “buy,” the same trap is set.

So, as preposterous and provocative as it might sound, what if we killed mortgage loans?

The Perfect Job For Me

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Whale Photo Saying Goodbye

Her office was scattered with boxes, papers, and knickknacks. I’d never seen it this way. Here she was, packing up everything after a three to four-decade career. As she gingerly removed the last remaining photographs from the corkboard, I could see sun-soaked squares – leaving an outline of the past.

With a gigantic smartphone in hand, she pulled me aside to take a selfie. I laughed – not used to this cordiality. I felt the baton passing. Here was this transitional moment between generations. And with a sweet tenderness in her voice, she said goodbye.

Nearly her whole life was spent working in one place. The “best” years of her life were given to the cause of higher education. It had been a sacrifice. She fought with administrators and faculty, but always was an advocate for students. Now, she was leaving.

I knew I’d miss her presence in the halls. Her passion fundamentally pushed me to be a better writer and academic. And frankly, it seemed like she was struggling to say goodbye to all the colleagues, staff members, students, and friends.

All I could think was, “I’d like to have this moment.” I’d love to be at the end of a long career and struggling to leave. I’d love to leave fulfilled.

As a fourth-year doctoral student, I’m not in my career, but I’ve sort of started it. It’s strange. I’m not an undergraduate, but I’m also not a faculty member. I don’t pay tuition (any more), but I’m also not making much. And in this quasi-career state, I can’t help but wonder what motivates someone to put 30 to 40 years into a career – to stay at one employer.

At 26 (almost 27), I wonder how to find flow – that love in a career and life. The recipe is different for everyone, but I think I know what I need. A life with my girlfriend, maintaining friendships, being challenged intellectually at work, getting paid a wage that allows me to live in comfort (everyone’s different, I just want a roof, a few books, and Internet access), and having opportunities to collaborate all come to mind. Likely, I’ll discover more over time.

Becoming more frugal and minimal, I’ve realized how little I need beyond social connection and work satisfaction. I’m not picturing Ferraris and McMansions. Instead, I envision small homes and public transit. I don’t see $300 bottles of red wine at lavish steak restaurants. I think about healthy, tasty meals with those I care about. And these dreams influence what I’ll need and where I’ll want to be.

I want a job where I work hard, but never look at the clock. I want a job where my start time isn’t used as a character judgement, but rather my productivity. I want a job where I can make a difference in people’s lives, but still maintain my own.

I’m nearing the end of graduate school and full of questions. I want to ask people what attracted them to their employer. What made them stay? How did salaries influence their decision to stay at one employer? What made someone struggle to leave after decades of employment?

There’s a secret in those years of service. What’s yours?

3 Vital Decisions for Financial Fitness

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Winter in Iowa

Winter is here in the Midwest. A breezy, 20-mph wind cuts through everything. The roads have an icy sheen. My breath is eviscerated as I walk out the door. I choke. My commute — a brisk jog — is bone-chilling. With my backpack rustling back and forth, I gingerly move from foot to foot. Frankly, despite the cold and madness of running in work clothes, I’m going to miss these days. I’m going to miss the toughness of this work and school routine.

I can feel my time in Iowa City is winding down. Over the next year and a half, I’ll move on to my internship (similar to a medical doctor’s residency). That internship will be in a new location — new peers, new streets, new names, and… new weather. As one chapter closes, another opens, right?

The decisions I make today will greatly affect where I end up — physically, emotionally, and financially. The next couple years include challenging financial concerns and I want to openly process them with you. There are three domains of my life that I’d like to consider: possibly buying a car, planning for travel/lodging costs associated with internships, and potentially moving three times in three years.

To buy, or not to buy… a car

One and a half years ago, I said sayonara to a hefty car loan and excess liability. The 2006 Honda Civic coupe was cool, efficient, and reliable. But paying off an $11,000 car loan with little money leftover to save or afford repairs felt dangerous. So, I sold it.

Since then, I’ve used my bike and feet to travel nearly everywhere. While I didn’t need to lose weight, the decision has kept me svelte and fit. When all you have is your physical health to get around, you tend to take better care of yourself. Simply put, I’ve enjoyed being car-less — it’s freeing.

I don’t lavish browsing Craigslist and other used car websites, but I’m increasingly sneaking peeks. In the next couple semesters and moves, a car could help me immensely. I’ll use it to go grocery shopping, visit my girlfriend, and potentially move into a more affordable housing complex. Without a car, these tasks become exceedingly difficult.

Now more than ever, I’m conscious I might be trying rationalize buying a car. That can be financially disastrous. Thankfully, I’m engaged in a careful consideration — unlike my first car purchase, which includes:

  1. Talking openly with family and friends
  2. Browsing used car sites patiently
  3. Scoping out values, which will hold resale and reliability
  4. Considering two price points: dirt cheap and car loan levels
  5. Reviewing how I could potentially get by without a car

I’m motivated to try and buy a car in cash, but heavily limited by my bank account, the stock market’s recent decline, and the two following tasks: internship applications and two apartment moves in the interim.

When I look at my bank accounts, I’m seeing a tiny number: $3487.93. While I’m happy and privileged to have a positive number between my checking and savings accounts, I’m concerned. I make little net income each month as a graduate student. Buying a car would drain nearly all of my liquidity. It’s forcing me to be careful — along with the reminder that I hate debt. I desperately want to stay positive in my net worth. If you’ve got some special advice about car buying or an offer I can’t refuse, hit me up!

Let’s talk about your future, young man

My time in Iowa City always had an expiration date. Graduate school is a relatively fixed duration of 5 years here and then a year-long internship — 6 years total. Afterwards, it’s time to finish up the requirements and look for professional opportunities. And this final transition can be painfully expensive.

In 2011, the average out-of-pocket expenses for applying and traveling to internships cost doctoral students $1,800. When asking classmates, they’ve cited costs around $2,000-$2,500 nowadays. With this financial burden in mind, and aforementioned funds, I’m in a bind. In the best case scenarios, it seems I either use a major portion of savings towards a car — with little remaining for internships — or dedicate it towards internships and remain without a car. At this point in my life, neither sounds smart.

Worse, I might have to take out a car loan to afford the internship experiences or a student loan to afford everything else. Those are both worst case scenarios for my financial present and future. I loath loans and cannot envision them being part of a healthy budget right now. These aren’t home mortgages; rather, complicated instruments that encourage spending, manipulate critical thinking, and have led me into deeper holes.

One thing I can do is redirect some poorly performing investments into internship savings, follow a close food budget for the next year and a half, and pour every extra penny into internship savings. With this drastic action, I might be able to buy a car in cash right now, while continuing to save for this decision. This version is an ideal, though. I’ve learned that financial decisions are often controlled by unexpected and unpredicted events, but I can try.

Moving out, moving on

After four years of easy living in graduate student housing at the University of Iowa, I’m dealing with one of the sadder moments of my time here: being forced to move. Financially, the current apartments I live in have become financially burdensome. When I moved to Iowa City, rent was a competitive, amazing $435 per month for a one-bedroom apartment. Compared to the greater community, rent was dirt cheap and offered month-to-month leases.

Two years after I moved here, a private company built new buildings and prices skyrocketed. Next fall, rents will be $999 for a one-bedroom apartment. That’s $564 in rent increases. I can’t afford this place anymore. It went from graduate housing to luxury living for staffers and University of Iowa faculty making far more than fixed-income students. While complicated, it’s a symptom of the privatization of public resources and universities.

Despite the previous increases, I’ve stayed for consistency and friends. Now, it’s time to move out and on. I’m looking further out from the city center. Prices would be lower and I’d be closer to grocery stores. With my final year in Iowa right around the corner, this is an inevitable and financially necessary decision.

Although, despite savings in rent prices each month, I’ll need to afford moving costs and rental deposits. Even in an effort to save money, I’ll need to spend some. Oh, the irony! And the situation becomes even more challenging: over the next three years, I’ll need to move three times. Moving costs and new rental deposits will be a theme for my life temporarily.

In short, money is tight. Three domains necessitate savings, planning, and careful consideration. Purchasing a car, financing internship applications, and moving will drain my savings, but I’m dedicated to avoiding debt and making smarter financial decisions. Previously, I would’ve made rash judgments and rationalized them as “completely necessary.” I would’ve said “I need to buy this [insert expensive item here].” Today, my financial state of the union is better than ever, but precarious. I have to be careful and decisive — rational and reasonable.

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