Too Cool for School

I love school. That is why I sent my resume to one of the directors of marketing at UCLA a little more than a year ago, when I was just starting my Los Angeles job search. In response to my snail-mailed letter and plea for a job, I got a phone call and a request for an interview. Nothing ever came of it then (there wasn’t really a position open) but she and I have stayed in touch, and I finally met with her this morning for a cup of coffee.

I took the winding, shady drive up Sunset Blvd, which led me through Brentwood, Bel Air and, finally, to the lush green campus in Westwood—all of these neighborhoods in just short of 10 minutes. Once again, just parking on campus and walking by students buried in their oversized sweatshirts, lugging their book bags in the early morning, gave me a thrill. I found the director in the back of a small cube-infested office and made myself at home in a chair with the fabric sliced on one end. Eventually we made our way up to a café for coffee, where I proudly whipped out my freshly updated resume.

It was a short cup of coffee. We talked for a bit, but it didn’t take her long to announce that I wouldn’t be happy with UCLA’s smaller salary scale. She also told me that many people romanticize about working in an educational environment, that she just thinks I wouldn’t be challenged there; I’d grow frustrated, bored. I thanked her honesty and after about ten more minutes, I was left to finish my coffee, still steaming, by myself.

What is it about school that people romanticize about so much? Why is there such a draw, for some, to the academic environment? Being on such a classic campus makes you feel as though you’re in a film. Everything is set just as it should be: the red brick buildings and ivy-covered walls; the manicured lawns; just being surrounded with those who possess a desire to learn. Maybe I think about school so much since I miss it. Since I’ve gotten through it, and—like anything in the past—maybe you hold on to it because you simply survived, and grew from it.

Maybe I’ll rule out working at UCLA for now, but not forever. I’ve sent that director some flowers this morning, and she’ll be getting a Christmas card from me. And an email about every six months after that.