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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.

Public-Private Partnerships Pillage Graduate Students’ Fixed-Income Stipends

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dailyiowan

Graduate students are a vulnerable population

This has been the craziest two weeks of graduate school and it all started with a blog post I wrote on Sunday, November 29. It was entitled, “How Leases Trap College Students.” Therein, I talked about my graduate student housing on the University of Iowa campus. When I first arrived, it was $435. But then, a private company, Balfour Beatty, came in and demolished the subsidized housing. They built a lavish, $31 million complex.

Since then, the prices have skyrocketed about 130% since the university – a public institution – sold off the rights to build and manage a property to a private company, Balfour Beatty. Next year’s 1-bedroom leases are now going for $999. You can get better prices in New York City. The company has published all sorts of reasons and information for the prices and increases, but they never talk about the big difference: profit motive. Now, graduate students cannot afford graduate student housing.

How do graduate students contribute on campus?

Graduate students often teach, research, and assist universities. For example, I teach two undergraduate courses, conduct research, provide technical assistance, and work on special projects with faculty in my college. These efforts – for 20 hours per week – allow me to receive a tuition scholarship and stipend. After taxes, that stipend equals about $18,720.

Despite the need for graduate students and an economic engine for doctoral graduates, housing them doesn’t tend to be a moneymaker. With only $18,720 per year, they’re limited as to where they can live without taking federal aid (student loans). Most schools have used affordable graduate housing as a benefit for incoming students. Like any incentive package at work, low-cost housing attracts the talented, financially sensible, and respects the dignity of those who contribute to the milieu.

How much money can you make from grad students?

While the University of Iowa certainly has a drive for income, profiting off of graduate students isn’t the purpose. When they managed their own properties, they made enough to maintain the property. With this private company on campus, the paradigm has shifted. The profit motive was back with a vengeance.

This move towards privatization on college campuses is little highlighted or understood. Frankly, I don’t know anyone who’s talking about it – or knows about it. But the reality is that more and more public institutions are deciding to parcel out their public resources – taxpayer funded – to an elite group of market barons.

Today, I wanted to take an opportunity to break down this problem and explain how students are financially affected by privatization using Balfour Beatty. Over the next decades, if universities continue to embrace privatization, students will be holding record levels of debt. For graduate students, it all starts with their rent/housing.

Lease public resources, make it someone else’s problem profit

Unfortunately for universities, graduate student housing isn’t a moneymaker. They are hard to maintain, keep risk on the table, and place debt liability in the hands of administrators. On campuses nationwide, universities are beginning to “lease” their land to private companies, as they cannot sell public resources. These leases can be signed for decades and lead to magnificent profits for companies involved.

When a private company comes in to build new residences, building, etc. on public universities, the two organizations are signing what’s called a public-private partnership. I’m getting sort of wonky today, so bear with me. A public-private partnership is when a “private party provides a public service or project and assumes substantial financial, technical and operational risk in the project.”

Effectively, public universities who embrace this model are offsetting their risk onto a private partner. They can suddenly fire handfuls of expensive employees who provide public services. These employees ordinarily require pensions and other retirement benefits, quality healthcare, and reasonable paychecks. The replacement is simple: smaller staffs, fewer benefits, and pay cuts. It’s all for one goal: maximize profits for a select few and pillage the fixed-income graduate students.

Administrators love public-private partnerships!

Many administrators say that graduate student housing isn’t a core mission, but undergraduate housing is a core mission because universities make boatloads of profits off undergrads. Here’s a University of Iowa administrator excitedly explaining how university-managed residence halls make sense (but not graduate student housing?):

“Stange said the Petersen Residence Hall, a $53 million, 10-story building under construction and scheduled to open in time for the fall 2015 semester, will house about 500 first- and second-year undergraduates.” (source)

Despite 90% occupancy rates and a population in need (many of which were people of color, international students, young families, and people with disabilities) in old, university-controlled graduate student housing, administrators decide to spin the story:

“Hawkeye Court is at the end of its useful life,” Stange said. “They were well-maintained as best as they could. They just were not meeting needs of our current population.” (source)

Worsening the problem is the added classism and gentrification risk to these privately constructed and managed apartments. Poor people need not apply:

These buildings are intended to create “an exclusive community designed to meet the lifestyle needs of today’s student.” (source)

Calling attention to the pillaging of graduate students

For a 1-bedroom at the “exclusive” Aspire at West Campus at the University of Iowa — remember, intended for graduate students — you’ll spend $1,000 per month. Over the course of a 5-year Ph.D. (some take longer), you’d be spending around $60,000 on rent along — if prices stayed consistent. Again, that’s a generously low total.

With my graduate student stipend of $18,720 per year, I’d be spending 64% of my income on rent alone. That’s why I’ve decided to move out for the coming year. But the gentrification and heartbreak to those looking for affordable housing has been finished. The University of Iowa signed a bad deal with no deal to renegotiate. Heck, administrators didn’t even know how much the private company would charge for rent!

Now, graduate students are stuck with bill or forced to get out. That’s just not right. The university messed up.

Spreading alarm and stirring up media attention

Four days ago, when a group of us affected students began emailing and contacting administrators to tell them they have a major problem on their hands, they told us to go away. They told us it wasn’t the university’s problem; in fact, we needed to bring our concerns to the private company, Balfour Beatty. Here’s what one administrator said:

“I can sit down with [the students], but the strongest voice will come from the people who will or won’t rent from [Balfour Beatty] based on rates.”

What that administrator seems to be implying is that he would sit down with us, but we might as well talk to the company. Picture that: a bunch of students marching into a multinational company trying to negotiate. That’s ridiculous.

Well, we weren’t particularly happy with that answer. So, we kept writing statements to politicians, lawyers, administrators, the president’s office, media outlets. In three days, we had three front page stories in three separate newspapers.

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Suddenly, the University of Iowa administration had a PR disaster on their hands. And magically, that tone of changed among admin/staff at the highest echelons of the university. Now, the president wanted to meet with us because he cared about this issue. My how they reversed their tone rapidly!

But taking it from PR nightmare to significant change is a different story. While the administration debates their next actions, this story has massive implications.

When prices skyrocket, that means students with disabilities must bear the costs. When young families with children feel the cost, they must move further from campus. When international students trust the university’s marketing of this on-campus housing, they find an awful price and unmanageable lease.

Balfour Beatty has a reputation for profit over people

The company’s buildings have gone viral — trumpeting their privately constructed and managed properties across the country. Just look at where they’ve gone beyond Iowa:

  • University of Houston-Victoria
  • University of Nevada-Reno
  • Georgia State
  • Temple University
  • George Mason University
  • Texas A&M
  • UNC-Charlotte
  • University of Sussex
  • Tarleton State University
  • San Diego State University
  • Florida Atlantic University
  • Winston-Salem State University
  • Appalachian State University
  • University of South Florida-Tampa
  • Cornish College of the Arts
  • University of California Riverside
  • George Mason University
  • University of Texas-Dallas

Every place they go, an area is gentrified, low-income students are forced out and a community is transformed. When the profit motive takes over non-profit campuses, the results can be harrowing. In fact, students at the University of Nevada, Reno tried to rebel against Balfour Beatty once before, but the company wasn’t willing to renegotiate. The solutions are murky once a contract is signed, too. Only one thing can be done: universities must resist the drive to privatize public resources and everyone should know that market barons like Balfour Beatty don’t represent students’ interests — they represent their own.

Now, hundreds are awaiting the University of Iowa to respond. Thousands are affected. And tens of thousands are seeing the consequences of short-term economic gains that have long-term effects on students.

University of Iowa, we are waiting for your answer. We will be civil, but never silent.

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.

Debt: The Destroyer Of Dreams?

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Colorado State University The Oval

Student loans ruined my relationship with money. It ripped out executive functioning of the prefrontal cortex, spit, stomped, and rolled it flat with a rolling pin. The critical-thinking components died an unfriendly, brief death. Suddenly, I couldn’t think straight or make sense of the “cost” of anything. I was the walking automaton with a mantra that wouldn’t stop: click, swipe, buy, repeat.

When you own nothing, the bank owns you. The lack of money became a thief of sleep, calm, and patience. This emotional vertigo sucked the fun out of future-oriented goals and dreams, as everything had reservations: lives comprised from decades by debt. In this confusing, cyclical spin, I temporarily lost the clarity that can be found within goals.

New questions refused to leave me alone. Why did I pursue this route in the first place? How will I possibly pay this off? Who can actually help me if something goes wrong? Where do I go for objective advice and feedback?

Then came questions about aging. How old will I be when the debt is done? What age will I be when I retire? How will I retire? Will I ever retire? How can, potentially, six-figures of student loan debt be paid off?

Lastly, were the questions about life and debt. What happens to my debt if I die before paying it off? Will it be passed on to a spouse, child, etc.? What if I left the country and never came back? What would I do if I got injured and either missed or was no longer able to make loan payments?

I briefly considered debt forgiveness plans. In some circumstances and areas of study, the federal government “forgives” debt after on-time payments after agreed upon periods of time. Debt forgiveness would allow me to wipe the slate clean, and be free faster. But I couldn’t wrap my head around the concern that might come from not graduating or being able to pay on time. What if something/anything interrupted my plans?

Debt is the ultimate restriction of freedom. From dreams at night to dreams of the future, debt knows no boundaries. It doesn’t politely wait for your day to begin or end. It’s the constant burbling and gurgling noise that confuses focus. And I’d be shocked if debt doesn’t restrain students’ ability to study and proficiently pass through school.

Nobody deserves this discomfort and stress. While many parents fork over gigantic savings for their children to attend college, countless undergraduate students pay their own way. As a culture, we’ve exalted the role of higher education and repeatedly shown statistics for success. “You’ll make more over your life as a college graduate,” they say. And they’re right, most people do.

Unfortunately, not everyone can or will take the same path. What if you aren’t excelling in college and decide to drop out? What if you get hurt in the four years of college? What if, what if, what if…?

For every student that decides to pay their own way through college, they take a leap of faith in themselves. Our culture admires their choice, risk, and self-investment. But despite this admiration, we do not reward them by heavily subsidizing their educations. Instead, we enshrine them in debt bubbles that are ready to burst.

Debt becomes the great opportunity maker; unfairly, as only some of us will carry this burden and it totals over $1.2 trillion.

As a country, we need to attack this debt — the wealthy and impoverished, together. The United States should be a leader in education for the masses. Between 5 and 18, we suggest that people deserve it. We say it’s a right. Children should receive a rounded education. Then, you graduate high school and — poof! — the right becomes a privilege afforded to the wealthiest among us.

To solve the debt crisis, we must rethink the entire privilege-based system of higher education in America. Fundamentally, we need to wrap our heads around our economic needs for an educated, working-age populace. The immoral shackles of debt that we place on hardworking students shouldn’t exist.

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