When it came time to choose a higher educational institution, let’s just say that my less than stellar academic performance precluded me from getting into some of the state schools of my choice. (I’m amongst friends, so I’ll tell you … I was in the lower half of my graduating class. I had an issue with applying myself. And maybe I still do from time to time.)
Luckily though, given that I had a decent singing voice and a great uncle who was a prestigious alumni from this institution, I gained admittance to a spendy, private college that was a half hour from where I grew up. And since the choice was between that or a community college, I decided to go the route of everlasting debt. Given that my choice ultimately afforded me the opportunity to travel for six months in foreign countries, be the editor-in-chief of my college’s newspaper, get involved with the college’s radio station, introduce me to my mentors, some of the most amazing friends that I could ever wish for and the man who would eventually be my husband, you can see that I’m not too entirely disappointed in my choice of college.
I’ll be honest though … every time I get a fundraising request from my school, usually via email, snarky comments abound between my husband and I. This week, we had an invitation to attend a ball that my alma mater is hosting that would benefit a scholarship fund for youth in the Twin Cities to attend our college. For $80, my husband and I could enjoy an evening of dancing and schmoozing, with a whole $10 going towards this scholarship fund.
I’ll admit it – I’m a jerk. I could go all high road on you folks and say that I will instead make a more meaningful contribution to the college, but chances are good that I won’t. At least not right now … once I pay off my college loans, I will probably be more generous, but that’s not for a few more years. Sorry alma mater …
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