“The whole idea is negative,” says Bryan Mannos, City Weekly’s IT guru, Westminster class of 1992, of the premise for this issue. “All 'Back to School' means is that summer is ending, and your freedom is going away.”
True.
But what about that silly thrill you feel in the bookstore buying new books; moving your IKEA paraphernalia into your first dorm room; showing up for the first day of class swearing that this semester, with God as your witness, you’ll buckle down and become a scholar; getting the hots for a classmate (or, hell, professor); drinking/puking Jager and beer at a house party filled with erudite hipsters doing the same; and watching and/or becoming one of the crazy people who wear colors and costumes on game day. Any of that sound appealing?
It might have once for Mannos if he searches deep in his world-weary soul. Maybe it will again if he returns to grad school. Some do go back.
So for you first timers and for those who are going back: Good on you. It means something. It’s meaningful. And then there’s the mean green you’ll need to study, and the mean streets that await you upon graduation. But you’ll be educated. That means something.
You’ll see what we mean in the fine work of our summer interns, Beth Clifford and Christopher Borgione. As a new college grad in search of work, Clifford looks at how to get by in a sea of unemployment and recommends the best apps for students. Borgione asks whether a major is relevant to your career and tells how unprescribed ADHD medication Adderall is gaining popularity on campus as a study aid, and also compiled a list of fall concert highlights. Both pulled together a list of the best literature for college students. In addition, A&E contributor Geoff Griffin writes about how Utah joining the Pac-12 and BYU going independent impacts academic horizons and road-trip destinations.
So you decide if Back to School is cool or cruel. Use City Weekly’s guide to make it work, and save being jaded for when you get that lucrative job you’ll need to pay off your student loans.
