A sociology dissertation in one issue of the Reed College alumni magazine.
20240204
I attended Reed College for 2 ½ years, dropping out Christmas of 1962. I had no idea where I was headed in life. Moreover, I increasingly recognized how out of step I was with the Marxist zeitgeist. I worked, first for the phone company and then for the state of California as a surveyor, before returning and graduating from Cal Berkeley in 1966. The witticism concerning this common trajectory was that it raised the grade point average in both institutions. Whereas my Reed transcript is quite mediocre, I graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Cal.
I still get the Reed College magazine. It's a barometer of what's going on in more selective private universities. Here's what I see. On the inside cover they welcome the entering freshman class:
What can we glean? First, enrollment has scarcely changed in 65 years. Second, whereas to account for dropouts the freshmen class should be the largest – 30% or more of enrollment – freshmen are only 24%. Why is that? Though admissions were at an all-time high, the acceptance rate of 27% is at an all-time low. 38% of freshmen identify as persons of color; 9% are international. My color count from the photo is a little bit lower, but given the strength of the diversity advantage, who could fault them for fudging? It hasn't hurt "Fauxahontis" any.
Judging from the photo, these kids don't take a great deal of pride in either their dress or their physical condition. These kids represent the middle of Generation Z. This observation is consistent with what I read about them.
In memoriam features two kids I knew. Ray Baggs, a veterinarian and professor, leaves three children and three grandchildren. More than average. Jill Dubisch is billed as having three "substitute grandchildren," belonging to her nephew. She was a cutie, one of many who might have turned my life in a different direction had she been interested.
The Class Notes section is the most telling. Here are the notes for the classes of 2002 to 2018. There were no notes for more recent classes. What do we see?
There is a kid's book by a member of the class of 2002. Another book from the class of 2005. Some leisure time activities – a marathon and camping. Jobs befitting liberals. Minnesota Department of Human Rights. Another "…looks forward to the challenges of local government and city stewardship." Another's "dissertation focuses on the intersection of performance and activism with an emphasis on embodiment." One woman did costumes for Steven Spielberg's "The Fabelmans." Another worked on the "Food Sovereignty Project" and sponsored indigenous writers. Another had a crowdfunding success for an "antifascist sci-fi TTRPG." That's a tabletop role playing game, to the uninitiated. One guy works for Intel, actually making things. Bottom line: lots of people busy redistributing other people's money for good causes, only one involved in an enterprise that makes money by satisfying real needs.
Three notes concerning babies. Somebody in the class of 2010 actually had one. Mom would be about 35 years old, but she might have another. The 2003 class note says "Tell us about those babies you've been publishing." The 2012 note reads "How about those jobs you've been birthing?"
Here's my arithmetic. Reed graduates 350 people per year. To reproduce themselves and provide applicants for the classes of 2045-70 there would need to be about 700 babies born per year. Where are they? The single reported birth is far from enough. The editors of the magazine appear, with those wan notes for the classes of 2003 and 2012, to recognize that fact.
That's my quick note for today. I have a panickology piece in the works, but I've been busy straightening out my social security and trying to move my brokerage account. So many hurdles! I try to imagine how people without my background, my lifetime's experience having my butt kicked by computers, navigate this stuff?
That’s the news from Lake WeBeGone, where the kids are still taking turns being sick. For my part, I’m getting back up to speed on the exercise bicycle after more than two months being sick or at least sub-par. I imagine this is how it ends. There will come a time when I can’t bounce back. Lord, don’t let it be this time!
In 1962, I was 3 years old. Growing up in an agricultural area of Ontario, it was rare to see obese individuals. We would tease them.
It seems that there is a common pattern of being in school longer and being out of physical shape.
A few of your IBM-Vietnam peer group are still active and healthy, so please keep striving to be part of this sub-group.