What today’s community college students need to know


Photo courtesy of www.ed.gov


 


 


 


By DIANE WAI


 


Editor’s note: With shrinking funds for higher education due to budget cuts, students are facing an increasingly hostile environment on campus. One student in San Francisco shares her survival tips for thriving and surviving on today’s community college campus. This profile was produced by The Campaign for College Opportunity, and shares the complicated path that community college students across California are being forced to navigate in their quest to improve their lives and contribute to their communities. It was distributed by New America Media.


 


          Victoria Conlu, 22, grew up in a multi-generational Filipino household with her mom, siblings, aunts, uncles and grandparents in the San Francisco Bay area. Victoria’s education was a family affair, and all the adults in the household contributed financially to her primary and secondary education. She explains that they never owned their own home; instead, they rented because the family “always invested a lot of money into sending me to private school.” For Victoria, going to college was a foregone conclusion.


          Several years ago, Victoria’s mom, stepfather and younger siblings relocated to Texas. She now lives in Daly City, a city about 10 miles south of San Francisco, where she shares an apartment with her grandmother. She is married to Erik, her high school sweetheart, who was discharged from the military last month.


          A top student at Deer Valley High School, Victoria ranked number 13 out of 700 students. From high school, she was accepted to the University of North Carolina and to Mills College, a school for women in Oakland, Calif. After deciding to switch focus from journalism to nursing, Victoria decided to enroll at City College of San Francisco (CCSF). It was affordable, and she knew several students who had gone through the nursing program and had positive experiences.


          The first week of class brought many unexpected challenges.


          “There were people desperate to get classes,” Victoria says. She paints the scene: “Students packed every inch of free classroom space just hoping for a chance to add the course. Some brought folding chairs, others sat on the floor. Everybody just got really upset. There would be people standing outside of class who would start scenes with professors, like ‘I really need this class! You don’t understand!’ It was really a hostile environment trying to get into classes.”


          “It took me a whole year to realize that I needed to nudge my way into places,” Victoria says. “When I first started college I wasn’t as assertive as some of the other students, and I wouldn’t demand that I deserved to be in the class. I’d kind of hang back and not get a spot. I just didn’t have as much of a backbone yet, so I couldn’t demand that I be able to stay in the class, which is what I ended up having to do.”


          One semester, it was essential for Victoria to get a seat in an Introduction to Medical Chemistry course. The course was a prerequisite for subsequent chemistry courses, and since she was unable to enroll in the course the previous semester, she risked delaying her transfer.


          “I had to plop myself down into a seat and stay. I was not going to leave,” she says. “I’d just sit in the classroom, and I was like ‘I’m not leaving.’”


          Her persistence paid off and the professor added her to the class.


          “I think the way the registration system works at CCSF is that there are a certain number of students who can enroll. Then, the online registration gets shut down, and no other people can enroll. The teachers can give out these special permit codes to a certain number of people,” she says. The special permit codes allow teachers, at their discretion, to add students beyond the online enrollment limit. Victoria found that some professors were indifferent to student demand. “I had this one professor who was like ‘I don’t want to give out all my permit codes because it’s easier to manage smaller classes.’ ”


          Many times, courses are offered at inconvenient times, or they overlapped with one another. “Let’s say I needed to take an English class, a math class and a science class. They would all overlap each other. You’d have to pick one, and then you’d have to wait until the next semester to take the next class. By then, there would be a backlog of people who also needed to take that same class.”


          Like many students, Victoria went to great lengths to attend class.


          At the time, she lived in Brentwood, an East Bay city about 60 miles from San Francisco. She did not have a car, and her daily commute on public transportation took nearly four hours each way. She rode a bus to the Pittsburg stop on the BART subway line that took her to the campus.


          “I’d have to leave about 5 a.m. to get to a 9 o’clock class,” she says. “I was always bringing my homework on the train and doing it to and from school, and eating breakfast at school while walking between classes.”


          “Many times people won’t tell you what resources are available and you have to snoop around for yourself just to see what’s there and what’s useful to you,” Victoria says. Among the resources she discovered and found useful were the free or low-cost health services and the class planning services. The class planning service generates a semester-by-semester class schedule that helps students stay on track and keep abreast of requirements.


          “That’s what trips people up. They’ll take a class, and then realize they took the wrong class. They won’t know exactly what’s required. It helps to talk to people who can help you stay on track.” Class planning can be done by counselors or by peer-to-peer mentors.


          When Victoria worked as a peer-to-peer counselor, she noticed that few students took advantage of the services offered. The main channel for information distribution was the posting of fliers on bulletin boards. “I think the schools should take up more of the burden of making sure people know about these kinds of things,” she says. The school’s website does not post extensive information on student resources. “There’s not really a cohesive effort at the community college to make it known just what’s going on.”


          Another issue Victoria stresses is a fragmented student body: “Students don’t feel a sense of connection to each other.” Increased competition among students for a shrinking pool of resources drives wedges in the student body.


          “I think the circumstances are such that everybody has to compete with each other and that makes people more prone to make divisions,” she says. “The competition builds hostility between ethnic groups, well-to-do students, and those who need more aid, and that makes for a hostile learning environment.”


          Victoria is now a senior at San Francisco State University. The nursing program requires an application and admission that is separate from the university’s, and Victoria is in the process of applying. In fact, she is applying to several nursing programs: CSU San Bernardino, CSU Sacramento and San Jose State University. In all, she spent four semesters at CCSF before transferring on time and on track. After two semesters at San Francisco State, she returned to CCSF to take two courses she could not get at the university. She says the problem of class shortages is one facing the state’s entire public education system.



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A sense of “despair” hangs over community college campus


  


By DAVID MAGALLANES


 


          As I walk across campus at the community college where I teach, I sometimes get the impression that I can almost hear my own footsteps as I walk toward my classroom or to an office I need to visit. In the parking lots, students actually have plenty of parking to choose from (there’s always an upside…). I almost feel as if, compared to the boom times of yesteryear, I’m in a ghost town. Well, I don’t exactly see tumbleweeds blowing across the fields, but we just don’t have the number of students we used to have. And not because they don’t want to attend. It’s just that we don’t have the classes for them due to budget cuts.


          I tried looking up some recent statistics on the college website, but the last ones posted were for Spring 2011. I noted that our student population was at a peak in 2008, and then — right about the time the recession hit — we started our decline in student population.


          The budget cuts have not yet fully impacted us. We’re scheduled to see more devastation in the coming months. Not just classes, but sports, cafeterias and student services are being slashed and burned throughout the county’s colleges because the state is no longer funding them, or because the college district considers them a lower priority than other aspects of education. At our college, we recently found that we’re losing a chunk of our arts and other programs next semester. I’ve sensed the system collapsing around me for the past couple of years, and every time I think it can’t get worse, it does.


          I see my students “freeway-flying” around the county — and surrounding counties — to different colleges both within and outside the district, trying to get the classes they need to graduate. I see students without cars who can’t possibly commute between cities to do this, even if they want to, because we live in Southern California, where taking a bus is so time-inefficient that it’s not even worth it in many cases for those who have tight schedules — like students.


          I also see students crushed by the daunting prospect of funding a university education, assuming they can even get the classes they need. I have engineering students in my classes who couldn’t even get into the comparable classes on their university campus because they were blocked from doing so by the sheer numbers of students already taking those few precious seats. I hear of education graduates who are ready to teach in our classrooms, but can’t find job positions open and available at our K-12 schools. I read about companies hiring engineers from other countries, especially China and India, because we don’t grow enough of our own expertise. We can’t expect to train engineers and scientists if we don’t have the classes and the support for them. Our K-12 schools are creaking under the burden of all the testing they are obligated to do, and of all the students with so many needs; as a result, inspiring students with the arts or the beauty of mathematics or the wonders of science, or teaching them to handle their own finances, or how to repair an automobile, although to some extent accomplished, is necessarily secondary.


          I hear of graduates with master’s degrees working far below their level of preparation because they can’t find the employment to which they had aspired. I sense a hint of despair in the general college student population because they don’t know if all their efforts are going to pay off. On the contrary, they wonder if they will be saddled with a student debt that they can’t possibly repay. Taking on student debt becomes a gamble of a lifetime.


          My daughter got through the system just before it started imploding. But as the doors close behind her, I start to worry about my grandsons’ futures. If things are going down in flames so quickly, right before our eyes, what can they hope for?


          We will have to teach our young people not to depend so heavily on the same institutions that we boomers grew up in. During our halcyon days, those institutions carried out their missions. But now their hands are tied, and we seem to be facing the prospect of a lost generation.


          There’s always a solution to changing economic times. The key is adaptation. Young adults will have to learn to be more self-sufficient, more creative as they design their careers, and more flexible as the direction of the wind changes quickly. To a large extent, they will have to learn to educate themselves. They will have to take more chances, and remain nimble and ready. They will have to disabuse themselves of many notions regarding careers that they were taught by their parents and boomer teachers. They will have to learn to use technology in ways that were inconceivable to their parents when they were young, and that enhance their work and make them more marketable.


          I sense a deepening divide between the educated and the less-educated. The educated, if they learn to adapt efficiently, will thrive. Those who are less educated, if they are more creative, will likewise thrive. I’m concerned about those who are not highly educated, nor highly creative, and not part of a rich family.


          Despite this rare display of pessimism on my part, I am cautiously hopeful.


          In an article from the Ventura County Star published March 25, “Despite woes, U.S. still perceived as No. 1,” Canadian foreign policy professor Michael Hart, observes that “If you’re going to be sick and you can afford it, the U.S. is the place to be — for speed, for thoroughness.”


          He’s right: IF you can afford it.


          But in terms of education, Hart suggests that as solid as Canada’s education system may be, his country lacks any universities on par with America’s best, though unspoken here is the implication that our higher education offerings are still world-class … IF you can afford it.


          In the same article, I read that Alexander Fortes, a Brazilian labor historian currently at Duke University as a visiting professor, states, “If the U.S. doesn’t get back its capacity to fulfill the American dream on a more inclusive basis, it won’t get back to playing a leading role, in a more positive way, globally.”


          He continues: “I think the U.S. will be the dominant power for a long time. But which kind of future is it going to offer its own citizens in terms of social inclusiveness, good education, good health care?”


          The 2012 elections are just around the corner. In many respects, we will be deciding the answer to that question in November.


 


          David Magallanes is a writer and an emeritus professor of mathematics at Oxnard College, where he taught mathematics for 30 years. He can be reached at [email protected]. This was distributed by Amigos 805 and New America Media.


 


 

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