Newsweek MY TURN OnCampus You Can Go Home Again By DAVID HANDELMAN Bernard Gotfryd-NEWSWEEK 0 a 0 i CONTENTS MARCH 1984 You can't go home again." That's what they say. Yet after a postgraduation summer bumming around Europe, I woke up one night having no idea where I was, slowly realizing as my eyes focused that I was back in the bedroom of my childhood. Unemployed. Undecided. Home. While comforted by the knowledge that many other recent grads find themselves similarly stranded, I can't help feeling a bit surprised, if not depressed, at the prospects. Our generation seems the undeserving vic- tim of many long-fermenting trends-baby boom, education glut and technology trans- fer. Once upon a time, America valued fam- ily ties and working toward some long- range goal. Now, as a smug ad for Fortune magazine claims, "People are making it bigger, younger." We can go anywhere, be anything we can find. The question is, what? As early as sophomore year, I had begun to hear a nagging "what?" from both outside and in. Although science and computer majors may be able to readily translate their skills into immediate jobs, the liberally arted have a flustering number of options, all tenuous. After having an argument about Karl Marx with a New York Bowery bum, I began to think that just about everyone these days has a bachelor's degree. The career decision is getting pushed farther and farther back. The three godfathers of grad schools-law; medicine and business-tell you what to study, what you'll be when you're done. It's a lot easier explaining to Aunt Clara that you're studying invest- ments than mumbling something about finding yourself. I foolishly wasted my senior year writing a thesis, going to movies and hanging out with friends, when I obviously should have been making contacts and jetting around for interviews. At graduation, knowing only that my personal "what" was writing, I moved my stuff back home. I was surprised to discover that about 10 percent of my high-school class had done the same. Yet when I tell family and friends that I'm un- employed, their reactions range from shock to prefab smiles of reassurance. "Well," one buddy finally granted, "you have a year to kick around." A year? I had tried to get excited about a cookie- cutout career. I really did. One cold winter night during my senior year, some friends and I went to our college's audio-visual center, which houses recruiting videotapes from various businesses. We sat watching as recent graduates tried to describe what they did at their bank jobs. They looked like pod- people from "Invasion of the Body Snatch- ers": emotionless and secure. One kept us- ing the word "force"-he enjoyed how the job forced him into situations. My friends and I walked out into the snow subdued, vowing never to get caught up like that, on an unstoppable treadmill chasing someone else's values. Yet defining your own values in today's input-laden world does not exactly happen overnight. Some of my classmates, unsure It seems artificial to require a career decision merely because you've reached 21. of the world that lay beyond the campus, settled for whatever they could get, in fields or organizations they didn't care about. But it seems artificial to require a career deci- sion merely because you've reached 21. My parents' generation emerged from college eager to contribute to an expanding economy. The next half generation rebelled against this and attempted to forge its own territory. We then grew up in the shadow of the iconoclastic and free-spirited '60s, only to witness its most compelling voices either shot down or mellowed out. Who did Amer- ica's idols used to be? Athletes, movie stars and politicians. But while we went through adolescence the nation went through mer- cenary free-agentry in sports and multimil- lion-dollar fiascos in the movies. We grew up in the age of Vietnam and Watergate and learned the true meaning of the phrase "Anybody can become president." What to do? Well, I went home to mull this whole spectacle over. I help Mom cook, walk the dog, ruminate over beers with old friends and lose myself in museums and movies. Some things take more adjustment than others, like inviting a date back to "my place" and having to introduce her to my parents. Of course, I am fortunate. Not ev- erybody has a family they can return to; not every family can afford to feed and shelter a previously departed dependent. But other ways to stay afloat financially-for in- stance, driving a cabto pay the rent-should not be discounted. For income, I have worked part time at a local farm and as near- slave labor on a cheap horror film. Neither solidified a life plan, but both were more real than the fantasy world called college, which had allowed me to dabble and dawdle. For the first time in my 22 years, I have no deadlines or other demands over- hanging. Discovering my own pace and niche has been a job in itself. I keep encountering others like myself, who are seeking careers in acting, writing, design- ing-or are simply not sure yet. Many of my employed and enrolled friends are already mumbling dissatisfac- tion. Some have already revamped their resumes and begun mass-mailing all over again. Others, feeling underutilized or over- ly malaised, write screenplays or short sto- ries to keep sane. I think I first expected the world to ap- plaud and reward my sweat-earned diplo- ma. Then I searched through the classifieds for an entrepreneur starting a high-paying publication aimed at my generation. I'm only now realizing the value of temporarily stepping out of line, finally beginning the arduous process of try-and-err that will help me better myselfand, perhaps, this mess of a world. It took the time and the distance that home provided to pry this out of me. Others may already have transcended the "greasy kid stuff" of existential doubts. But the rest ofus shouldn't feel hopeless if we are confused. We're not scrubs. We're merely going at our own pace, checking things out as we couldn't or didn't know we should in school. If we resist the nervous urge to allow others to choose for us and instead follow our hearts, we may find a chunk of the inner peace that seems to elude so much of the adult world. You can go home again-if you have faith in yourself. David Handelman is a writer who gradu- ated from Harvard in 1983. Newsweek*® [5C O~ssICf 0 A,,hss, E s§( nss o The w'ashington Post Cornp r Katharine Gra/am, Chairman ofrhe Bourd/ Richard D. Simmons, President EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Richard M .Smith MANAGING EDITOR Kenneth Auchincloss SENIOR EDITOR/SPECIAL PROJECTS Lssstsoich NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUS MANAGING EDITOR Jerrold K. Fotlick SENIOR EDITOR: Lynn Langway ART DIRECTOR: Robert J. George STAFF WRITERS: Bll Barosl, Ron Givens. STAFF REPORTER: Cynthia . Pigott. EDITORIAL PRODUCTION: Fa I e C PHOTO Jhn Whela, .KI,'McIella, AmeriJ.Cako CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: Jett I. C'3. op d, Lucy ars d, JamesC C ones, Michael Reese, raecL . Robis"". CONTRIBUTING CORRESPONDENTS :B rbara IBurI r, SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS: Jan Dl liu, David GoeC.s Nadine Jseph. Lori Roenberk, Betsy Rubiner. CAMPUS CORRESPONDENTS: American University: JIuia Reed. Ball State: Donald Yaeger. California (Berkeley): Mar, garet Minelach. Colby: CaroEk Isnhcrg. Colorado College: o S Cih.Colordo:e iCle ns.Columbia:uis Smith. Drake: Mered h Woodsard. Duke Larry Kaplow. Jen Sher.Florida: lan Jhnso, JayIMain. sHarvard:MargoIl.r ,,s rera ,, rw.MoniqueSuivan. Houston: intBrook- oser.Howard: Joseph Perkins.l linois: Ira Kici nberg. Indiana: 5Stw Sndes. Johns Hopkins: 0Doree'sMoran. Kent5uky:An- *svOppsss UCLA: 1Lc dhcrg Maryland: 1y5 atly MIT: David Grt. Massachusetts (Amherst): Paul BaskIn. .4 Michigan:B Iarhara Msl,. Michigan State: Joe Melk. Mills College: Cynthia Conway. Minnesota: Peter Kizilos. North Carolina (Chapel Hill): Sonja Peyton. Northwestern: Leigh Ann Winick. Notre Dame:Boh I Vonderhile. Ohio State: AI SavitskyC Ok'ahoma: Chris Brwile\ Pennsylvania: Debra Friss. Pomona: Diane Gaigan. Princeton: George Van l Hoo 'is.'SC:Mark',"Cistph lton.Souhern Meth- odist: Mark Millers. FranC SolI,,.Stanford: XWiliam ,,s 111,I Tina Eswy. Swarthmore: Michael Radiloff. Texas (Austin): isa"""""" Jon"Shwatz,"la""nStr"mherger Texas A &M: Joh"Wagner. Trinity (Texas): Corge Jackson. Vanderbilt: Rik Danielson. Vassar: Erik Godchau. Virginia: Marina Sarris WiscoC"in(M aionNancy.s Westminster(Missouri): Jams GaCrneTOr. YaX:ss XWllc. COVER: Robert V. Engle Ron Meyerson. LIBRARY: BetsySzller. ARTRseannl"" ""e, Dan Kubit. Ma'ta Norman, Richard High-Tech Payoffs for Everyone Now that the future is almost here, a lot of people don't know what to make of it. In its cover package, NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUs offers some comfort to the tech- nophobes among us: high tech should pay off in new job opportunities for both tech- nical and nontechnical types by the 1990s. With machines running more of the working world, thinking humans who can communicate should be at a premium. A companion story discusses gerontology, a nontechnical specialty that will grow in importance as the elderly population in- creases. Another piece reports how pro- tessional careers have lost some of their luster because of overpopularity. The final story discusses how and when college placement offices can help students secure their piece of the future. (Cover illustra- tion by Arnold Roth.) Page 4 L 'T Campaign '84: Practical Politicking Although the presidential race is now in high gear, many students remain unmoved. A significant minority, how- ever, is taking to the campaign trail. This year's volun- teer tends to be more practical than idealistic, looking for resum6 credits and connections as well as the best candi- date or cause. But students are willing to pay a price to learn-from stuffing envelopes in a barren office to trudging home to home in the snows of New Hampshire and Iowa. And some are proving that they can wield considerable political clout. Page 20 A Congregation of College Hangouts The cuisine may be oleaginous and the decor late Beer Hall. But students will still cherish their college hang- outs long after they become alumni and other memories have faded. A hangout, after all, is where waitresses and bartenders dish outtcomfort as well as cottage fries, where a person can sulk or circulate at will. NEWS- WEEK ON CAMPUS correspondents fondly describe several of the longest-standing local gathering spots, ranging from a down-to-earth diner in Virginia to a former boot camp in California. Page 26 New Tactics to Overcome Dyslexia The learning disorder dyslexia, which causes victims to confuse words and letters, afflicts an estimated 25 million Americans. But if dyslexia is not uncommon, it is uncommonly frustrating for many students, who must master texts and pass exams despite their handi- cap-and despite occasionally unsympathetic profes- sors. More institutions, however, are beginning to recog- nize the problem; they are organizing schedules and programs to help dyslexics overcome the disability and realize their capabilities. Page 31 COPY: George Gaal. Kay Etrzler, Archer Specrs. MAKEUP: Marlin Burke, Cathie A. Ruggiero. Richard A. PO T OOPSTO:Dma oRch ospngarra. OPERATIONS:,DIrrell,.IAds, Rebeccas . Pratt., EDITORIAL ASSISTANT: Betty P. Bab,,chI NEWSWEEK, INC. Mark M. Edmiston, Presidena PUBLISHER ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER: Iames. I Spanfeller Jr ADVERTISING DIRECTOR: Jack Mandable MANUFACTURING: Providenlia DiasT, Tony Gordon, Frank Ho"la","ria nIae, Vic c A rees A l ysbylkosssk CIRCULATION: Richard Burc I THE NEW MUSIC ARRIVES MULTIPLE CHOICE MY TURN: COMING HOME For years, New Music languished at the A memorial at Kent State; clove smoking at What happens when youhave a hard-earned fringe of American pop music; last year, it Oklahoma; Caltech's Rose Bowl score; the college degree but no idea in the world what leaped into the mainstream. Jim Sullivan biggest public-affairs radio program; a you want to do with it? You go home again. explains what New Music wants to be and health dorm at Western Michigan; the mul- David Handelman, a 1983 graduate, de- how it reached the big time. Page 24 tipurpose college bookstore. Page 17 scribes his experiences. Page32 S1984 NlwSw:K. Inc., 444 Madk on Avsne, N\w York. N.Y. 10022. All rights reserved. 32 NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUS/MARCH 1984 NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUS/MARCH 1984