Bright College Years...

A few weeks ago at the neurologist, the doctor asked me if I considered myself a smart person, which to me, has to be one of the most pointless questions you can ask someone. I can't imagine that anyone would answer anything but yes to that question, when surely we know that quite the opposite is true, and there are a lot of not-so-smart people out there in the world.

In fact, if you really want proof of this, I challenge you to visit any online dating site -- look at any profile and I guarantee the person will declare him or herself not only smart, but also attractive with a good sense of humor. This is a statistical improbability; sure I don't get out as much lately, but I am out there in the world, and I can say with authority that not everyone is all of those three things. I mean, we only have to look at the Presidential candidates to know that. But I digress...

So, back at the doctor's, of course I answered yes, yes, I consider myself to be a smart person. And then she followed-up with, "But did you go to college?" Um, yes. "Did you finish?" Yes. "Do you have an advanced degree?" No. "Do you care about whether you've lost cognitive ability?"

Um, hell yes.

I didn't quite understand this line of questioning. Was she somehow implying that, if I didn't consider myself smart, and didn't have a college degree, that it somehow didn't matter if I lost some of my brain function?

I would think that, no matter what your brain function, no matter who you are or what you do, what letters are or aren't after your name, that you'd want to preserve whatever brain function you've got. Call me crazy, but that's how I roll.

I totally believe that how smart you are does not at all correlate with how much schooling you have. I know plenty of people who have advanced degrees from hot shot universities who are dumb as dirt, and I know plenty of people who didn't continue their education past high school, or in some cases, even before that, who are absolutely brilliant. For some people, whether the reasons be cultural, socioeconomic, or otherwise, going to college is not an option. And I totally believe in different types of intelligence. Some people can brilliantly read people and tune into them emotionally. Others are wizards with words or numbers.

Now, here comes my Miss America platform, which jives nicely with the platform that I will use if I ever run for Mayor of NYC, "Less hydrants, more parking": Don't get me wrong - I believe wholeheartedly in the power of education, especially in the power education has to transform a life and open you up to opportunities that wouldn't ordinarily be possible. I believe that, as a society, we should do everything in our power to ensure that every child has a solid educational foundation that includes post-secondary options. But as Oprah would say, one thing I know for sure is that just because someone has a college degree, does not mean he or she is smarter than the person who doesn't.

I always knew that I would go to college. What I didn't always know is how I would afford it. But I knew that, if I worked my behind off, got good grades, and rounded out my resume with every imaginable activity, I would be an appealing candidate. And when I say every imaginable activity, I mean it -- from the Varsity Club to the mathletes, from mock trial to the school musical, from SADD to student council, from the school newspaper and yearbook to band and chorus, you name it, and I was in it. And my picture is in the yearbook to prove it.

I even - you might want to sit down for this one - I even taught Sunday school. Well, it was on Saturday, but that's what it was. Looking back, I'm not sure what religious education the students in my class (which I taught with a friend who I'm sure is equally incredulous that we did this) acquired, and I'm even less sure why any parent in the world would choose a pair of 16 year olds to be in charge of their child's religious development. Actually, I do know what parent would choose us: the parents who knew that their kids had to go through the process to get them to Communion and Confirmation so they wouldn't go to Hell, but who weren't that religious and didn't actually go to church themselves. And who probably signed up too late and we were the only option left. Now don't worry, they didn't let us teach any of the important years -- certainly not Communion or Confirmation -- so we were just filler. Or, to say it simply, if Communion and Confirmation were "Happy Days" and "Laverne and Shirley," we were "Joanie Loves Chachi."

Since I didn't actually go to church regularly myself, my one big key message as a catechism teacher was, and this surely would have gotten me thrown out had the powers that be known: You don't need to go to church in order to have a relationship with God.

I always felt bad for the kids whose parents didn't go to church but were being sent the message that if THEY didn't go, God would be mad. How is that a message for a seven year old who can't take his own behind up to church? So, each week, we talked a little religion, I assured them they weren't going to Hell (which I hope I was right about, but if not, I bet we'll meet again there), and we closed each week with a rousing game of 7-UP, which was merely a way for us to keep the kids busy and quiet (heads down, thumbs up) while we caught up on gossip.

When I look back, between working, studying, and all of my mathletic, musical, and holy rolling activities, I'm surprised I didn't pass out from exhaustion, but as we all know, I'm not much for sleeping. Handy then, I suppose.

So I did all of these activities. Some I liked, some not so much, but I was determined to make myself the perfect package that any college admissions office would surely swoon over. I had it all: good grades, all the right activities, a kick a$$ Champion sweatshirt collection and, if I do say so myself, well, character.

Like a lot of people, I didn't have the easiest of childhoods and through it, built what society likes to call "character." I didn't build this willingly, but my mother was a strong woman who made it clear that I had two choices: I could either take what life had dealt me and make the most of it and move forward, or I could say, "Woe is me, my life stinks" and, by doing so, and dwelling and feeling sorry for myself, ruin my entire life. So, have a crappy childhood or ruin your whole life. Hmmm. When you look at it that way, you don't even need the length of the Jeopardy music to decide; there's not much choice.

So I applied and go into several colleges. My college decision was made pretty much for me on one thing and one thing alone: Money. Yale was the only school I could afford to go to; they have a huge endowment and they were able to give me the funds that I needed, plus work study and loans, to make college a reality. Not such a bad situation to be in.

While in college, my school district back at home went on an austerity budget, and many extracurricular activities were cut. I got into a little bit of a war of words with someone in the local paper, and we went back and forth in the Letters to the Editor. He thought all of the activities the school provided could be easily cut, and that they were frivolous. My opinion was, don't hate the player, hate the game. Until college admissions changed and students weren't judged by how well-rounded they were in activities, the districts have an obligation to help the students put their best foot forward.

Unfortunately twenty (gasp!) years later, it's just gotten worse and worse. Not only do you need to be well-rounded to get into the school of your choice, but you need a degree to seemingly get any job. So more and more people have college educations, which is good, right?

And yet, why don't people seem to actually be any smarter? Is it me?

Why are we falling behind in everything? Why is our economy on the brink? Why, with all of our technology, do we seem to be farther apart than ever?

I loved college, but I'm not sure I actually learned that much there in terms of book learning. Well, at least not much that I actually recall or put into daily practice. I made wonderful friends and terrific memories - both of which were well worth the price of admission.

My official major was English, but I really majored in staying up really late and talking to my friends for hours on end about everything and nothing. Coming from a small town with a lack of diversity, my greatest education in college was seeing a world beyond what I knew, the gift of knowing that there is a world beyond where I grew up, a world filled with people and places and rich experiences.

But college didn't help me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I still don't know what I want to do with my life. But I'm open to suggestions. And maybe that's the whole point of getting an education: to realize that there's a helluva lot more you don't know than you could ever possibly know.

But I mean, duh. I totally knew that already.