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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.

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.

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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