Now that it’s nearly four years behind me, I almost miss the old high school graduation and… Now that it’s nearly four years behind me, I almost miss the old high school graduation and all its pompous hoopla. That’s because for those of us who were heading to college, it didn’t really matter too much. It was just a glorified benchmark. All those graduations from K-12 and the excitement and traditions that surrounded them were really not much more than ceremonial markers. Lofty speeches were delivered by people who waxed on about how we were the future and how we were destined to change the world with our sparkling talents. And while college might have seemed somewhat daunting, it at least sounded like cool things were ahead, and there wasn’t so much anxiety as there was anticipation.

As you might’ve guessed, I’m looking back on this as the “real” graduation draws nigh. In a few months I’ll be a Pitt graduate, and thus, my parents now wield greater license than ever to hang the ‘Great Question’ over my head like an axe – “So, when are you getting a decent job?”

The implied assumption behind that query is, naturally, that since I’m about to graduate, I should have the “next step” planned out already. If my education was indeed worthwhile, then I ought to have a comfortably-paying job waiting in the docks.

But bachelor’s degrees don’t seem to carry as much weight as they did back in our parents’ time. A few decades ago, it was considered more than enough to just have a college degree. Nowadays, graduate school is becoming more and more expected of people. At this rate, education standards won’t be able to get much higher for long.

Also, the job market in America today mostly sucks. The vast majority of my friends who have already graduated are in jobs they hate and feel lucky to have even that. Health benefits are turning into a luxury. My parents tell me that the “decent job” that I should be queuing up for ought to pay some $20K and have a nice health insurance bundle. I nod and say, yeah, I’ll see what I can do.

In reality, that’s hard to say because I went and made things difficult by majoring in creative non-fiction writing and studio arts. I never really told her directly, but now I think my mother is finally coming around to the unhappy realization that I am indeed affiliated with some kind of art-related discipline. The paint marks and plaster stains that grace roughly half of the clothes I own might’ve been the giveaway. So that triggers the ol’ parents’ lament that I’m sure many of us art majors have heard countless times – “Oh, if only you were a business major