Frugaling

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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.

How Leases Trap College Students

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How Leases Trap Students

I live in a nice apartment. The bathroom is large, kitchen is brand new, ceilings are high, and my roommate and I have held many parties. When something goes wrong, the maintenance promptly fixes things – often the same day. It’s been a refreshing experience, but it’s come with a price and harbinger for higher education in general.

When I first entered graduate school, rent was about $400 with Internet and cable (not including utilities). I lived in Soviet-themed (unintentionally) barracks the university built in a flood zone. The entire area had flooded repeatedly (including many of the buildings). They weren’t necessarily up to “code,” but they were utilitarian and met my needs.

After two years of living, they decided it was time to tear them down and build up new buildings. I couldn’t blame the university. Unfortunately, there was a catch: private construction and land management companies would now control the buildings. Flirting with private and public lands (as I go to a public university), the university sold the building rights to the company. Now, my apartments are owned by a private company and the public land is leased to them.

While the apartments were brand-spanking new, it came with a flashy price: $550 per month with a roommate. I found a great one, and we’ve been living here ever since. From around $400 to $550 was a tremendous leap. But I justified it because it would keep me “on campus,” on the free bus route, and rentals are regularly expensive in the city. The old price didn’t really exist in the city, as it was university subsidized. Additionally, it would limit my moving expenses, as I would carry my stuff across the block.

Then something strange happened last year. Half way into my lease, a brochure was placed in my door frame. It said, “Take advantage of a great opportunity to renew your lease…at a discounted rate!” That first sentence sent off alarm bells in my head; I thought, “here comes a sales pitch.”

If my roommate and I renewed early, we’d receive this so-called discounted rate, but it was made worse by a bold-faced exclamation, “The first 100 residents that renew will get a discounted renewal rate!”

Both of us eyed the brochure and looked at the rate. At first I thought we’d actually be saving money because the table outlined “annual savings.” More closely, we realized they would be charging us $10 more. Despite all the rhetoric about savings, we’d be paying $120 more a year, each. Then, the company had combined it with a time-sensitive offer. They had clearly read some awful business books that encourage these tactics at the expense of consumer hatred.

The kicker was a third element: information about how expensive and difficult it is to move. As a skeptical reader I wondered why they were including information about “truck rental,” “utility transfers and deposits,” and “application fees.” Simply put, they wanted to psychologically implant loss potentials by using classic business techniques. The company wanted to reduce the likelihood of a move.

Despite my hate for the technique, it was true. Because we were graduate students, on tight schedules, and fearful of awful landlords (the city is full of them), we accepted the $240 total increase.

A year passed without much concern. Yesterday, I came home to an updated brochure. It was entirely the same except for the amount owed and leasing year. All the same rhetoric was used: “annual savings,” “the first 100 residents,” and information about moving expenses.

Another increase stared back at me: $480 per year per person. I was stunned. Over two years, the private land management company hiked the price $600 for leases annually. And horrifically, it’s even worse for new leases. Now, my roommate and I have a major decision to make.

This story is about more than one rental company’s tactics. Rather, this article is about the wicked decline of public institutions. What used to be highly subsidized, affordable housing for graduate students, quickly declined to a gentrified area (all the families and international students left). The university no longer needs to manage the land and they receive leasing payments, but they have little control of the land management’s prices and sales tactics.

By understanding these tactics and the privatization of public university property among rising student loan debt is a recipe for resentment. Raising prices $600 per year for each person becomes a formidable sum. Think about how $600 each year over the course of a five-year graduate school career equates to $3000 in extra housing costs, which are often at 6.8% interest with federal aid. That adds up, as do the future payments.

While people could move out, year round schedules and limited savings become a trap for many students. With strict budgets that limit freedom to afford truck rentals, rent cleaning products, and pay for utility transfers, we are a vulnerable population. Many are restricted by these methods.

The privatization of public property might be an omen for continued demises in higher education. By pushing towards a business model, students will bear the brunt of these horrid policies.

We’re at a tremendous precipice in academia. As we play limbo with students lives, I cannot help but wonder when we’ll find the bottom because we’re walking straight towards it.

How Psychological Pressures Change Your Spending

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Burger Food Photo Minimograpy

Over the last month, I’ve been working on my dissertation. While writing this tome, I’m continuing clinical work at a local VA, instructing two courses, and creating scholarly papers. This might be the busiest moment of my life. And in about a month, I’ll need to hand over a draft to my adviser. And he’ll decide “go” or “no go.” My future depends on it.

The symptoms of this pressure are powerful. I’ve struggled to write, become a nervous wreck, and have unending indigestion. My stomach burbles and gurgles with unease. Simultaneously, Frugaling has been unusually quiet, and I’ve been shocked by the emails from regular readers wondering how I’m doing (you’re so sweet!). I’ve been unable to write as much as I like.

Eventually the dissertation writing will end. But I can’t help but think, I need to succeed. I’m in control of this moment, and I’ve never been more motivated.

Unfortunately, as I’ve focused on this one area, a handful of others things have faltered. Control in one category, has led to failures in others. It’s like my brain can only concentrate on a few things at once; then, it descends into reactive, non-conscious action. My reptilian brain takes over, and I let autopilot handle the controls.

My ideals of frugality and simple living have taken a back seat to this burden. Even after two years of Frugaling, I’m embarrassed to say I still struggle to maintain a budget when the stress hits the fan. With nearly every moment hunched over my keyboard, hammering away at keys incessantly, old habits are returning.

The inner voice says, “I’m too hungry to wait for home. I want to treat myself for writing so much. I need a break – give me that large popcorn.” Me, me, me, me, me. I crave candy, quick meals, and snacks at strange times. Yes, I want that fatty burger and fries. Yum! All I want is to swipe a worry away and not feel guilty for doing so. Suddenly, I can spend $60-70 in a day’s worth of food. Poof!

These moments highlight the complexity of changing a budget and spending less. We can make great alterations to our lives, and still relapse and regress. It happens. And I think I know why.

See, the first 24 years of my life, I didn’t watch spending, create a budget, cook at home, avoid student/car loans, bike to school/work, or look for ways to save. My brain developed a pathway and logic to deal with nearly everything over those years, including when to eat out, buy a car, etc. Frugality wasn’t in the mix, and it got me into 5 figures of debt.

It’s hard to change anything; especially if that’s all you’ve known. The neuronal structure has developed a keen appreciation for certain types of rewards and feedback. Simply put, my brain expects me to spend when I’m stressed. To change this pattern of behavior requires repeated corrective action, recognition of when I’m slipping, accountability from friends/family, and other reward mechanisms.

One of my psychology textbooks curiously likes to say that after about 6 months of change, a habit can stick. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s not always the case. Despite a couple years of successful behavioral change, I occasionally fight to regain control and relapse to old spending.

Various factors work against me. Twenty-four years of bad habits and a society full of encouraging messages about immediate gratification stack the deck. It’s an uphill battle, but I’m better at waging it than ever before.

I might not have perfected my budget but change has occurred. Today, I can realize when everything is falling apart – spending has gone haywire – and stop. Today, I can write this letter of accountability to you all. Today, I can admit faults while acknowledging strengths.

Frugality isn’t about dogma or perfection. We’re on a journey – together – to find ways to save, spend less, and recapture control when we lose it. There’s power in these lessons and the brain – while stubborn to change – does slowly cooperate.

What I Learn Outside The Classroom

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Computer work

“It occurred to me that there were two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful.”
—David Brooks

Earlier this week I chatted with an old friend about my dissertation. I mentioned that I’m having trouble isolating variables, staying interested, and writing the countless pages required of me. But her advice and guidance helped keep me on track, motivated, and psyched.

At some point during the conversation she asked me about my plan. More specifically, what was my plan with Frugaling. I pondered that question and frankly didn’t understand what she meant at first. “My plan?” I inquired. She responded, “Yeah, your plan. You’ve been working on Frugaling for a long time now. Do you ever think it’ll influence or turn into a career?”

I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Frugaling has never felt like a primary goal or endpoint. Rather, working on this site has been a break from the normal routine — an opportunity to write freely and talk about personal finance in a forum that didn’t exist for me.

Interestingly, I’ve always lived this way: pursuing one avenue while holding countless activities in the background. In high school, I gambled and watched the stock market in every off block or break. I played at lunch with friends and raced home to sign online for hours of entertainment. Poker and stocks superseded high school. As a consequence, my grades suffered and relationships were strained. Nobody liked the person I had become, including me. The lessons of high school paled in comparison to the power of isolation, overwhelming greed, and selfishness. I learned early on that I never wanted to go back to that place.

Despite the lessons, it was the start of a long pattern of side work/play. In college, I was a resident assistant, op-ed columnist for the school newspaper, research assistant, instructor, and served on various committees for suicide prevention and community service. By the end of my tenure I raised over $30,000 for suicide prevention. Here, I learned the importance of selflessness, friendship, and love. None of which were learned in the classroom.

I’ve been in graduate school for… Well, I’m working on my fifth year now because I spent a year at my alma mater in another Ph.D. program. Then, I transferred to my current one for counseling psychology. But in my one year, I became more immersed in the world of suicide prevention via board memberships and invited talks.

My passion for mental health and community engagement grew, but it stood in conflict with academic demands. When I left the program and moved to another, the professors called me it out and basically said, “You’re a great person to have in the classroom, but you’re distracted and your grades have suffered. There are times in life where you must cut back on certain activities to excel in others.”

That was the first time in my life where I wholeheartedly disagreed with feedback about how I conducted myself. My “distractions” were epic side projects, which got me through graduate school, gave me diverse experiences, and exposed me to entire world of learning that occurs out there — in the world.

See, I can’t help but think that these mentalities are something of an “old guard.” In generations of yore, people would become educated, train for a particular career, and then work until they either dropped dead or retired. They did that one thing — over and over again. If all went well, you retired with a hefty pension and retirement package. You could drift off into blissful security, knowing you’d worked hard and earned the riches to live comfortably.

This mentality of education, training, and career has shifted though. People change jobs more than ever — laterally, vertically, and entirely. Now, a job is a temporary weigh station versus a home away from home. Employers tend to treat employees as expendable moneymakers — easily replaced with another head. And the incentives for staying with one company have largely evaporated. Even when pensions are offered, they’re sometimes cut or stopped altogether.

Frankly, I have an utter insecurity for pigeonholing myself to one esoteric career path and never looking back, sideways, or ahead. It’s utterly frightening to imagine doing one thing for the rest of my life, and I’m not sure that any one employer will empower me to do so.

I’ve been in school for about 21 years. The majority has been spent “distracted” and preoccupied with other loves, passions, and motivations. And I can’t help but think about Neil deGrasse Tyson’s belief that discoveries don’t occur in classrooms — they happen in minds, labs, and connections outside. Heck, Einstein didn’t have his eureka moments in a classroom. But largely, most seem caught up in the rat race of education and prestige.

As I reflect on the future of Frugaling, it’s easy to see how it fits into my life. It will likely never be my number one “career,” but there’ll always be a place for this wonderful distraction in my life. These adventures in time and effort have never failed me. In breaking away from the shackles of needing A’s in all my courses or feeling guilty for not working harder, I’m comforted by the fact that work comes in many forms.

Today we live in a world of great change and diversity, to assume or predict what’s necessary for tomorrow would be foolish. Instead, I embrace the unknown by mixing up my life and embracing my wacky, weird, and awesome interests.

How do you approach your career in the 21st century?
What careers are you training for?
Do you ever work outside work or “distract” yourself? How so or why not?

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