I never graduated from college.
Many people I know—maybe most?—assume I did. They assume a nice middle class, well-read, generally articulate, reasonably knowledgeable professional writer (that’s me, I think) who has worked for major publications and published a dozen or so books surely graduated from college.
But I never did, and nearing my 79th birthday, I’m wondering if I should be regretting that.
I mean, I could have graduated from college. I was probably smart enough. I just … well, never showed up for many classes. Back in my day, you really had to actually be there to pass the course. None of today’s remote learning stuff.
But instead of physically going to classes, I went to the college newspaper office. That became my education, my training ground, my obsession. I spent pretty much all my undergraduate time there, writing and editing and bullshitting and making friends for life. I met my wife there.
It left little time for classroom attendance or actual academic work. And back then it was hard to get a passing grade in a course—even a D—if you were hardly ever in the classroom, in the lecture hall, in the lab.
I also didn’t go, I think, because at that point in my life I never paid much attention to the stuff I wasn’t already paying attention to, like college newspapers and books and baseball.
That was problematic since I went to college during those years when there were all sorts of curricular requirements for graduation. You had to take physics or chemistry. You had to take calculus. (My oldest friend Frank and I-—we’ve been good friends for 60+ years—were easily the two worst students in an 8 a.m., Monday-through-Friday calculus class; it’s how we bonded.)
I did well in literature and philosophy classes, which I mostly attended, but calculus, physics, chemistry weren’t just beyond me—they didn’t remotely interest me. So, I didn’t go.
I do regret that; it’d be nice to know a little chemistry, at the very least when I do the New York Times’ Spelling Bee or try to complete crossword puzzles. There’s always a science clue lurking about (what’s an eight-letter word for a simple compound that can form polymers?).
Because of all that, at the end of my first year, I was kicked out of college (so was my calculus buddy Frank, for pretty much the same reasons).
Both of us took a few classes elsewhere, succeeded well enough, and were re-admitted on a probationary basis to our college. Frank, who became a highly successful writer and photographer, learned his lesson, at least a little bit, and ultimately managed to eke out his college degree.
I didn’t learn the lesson, one of many, obviously, that I didn’t learn during my college career. I was kicked out again and again; ultimately, after four years and a string of A grades in Shakespeare and Political Thought During the Enlightenment—and Fs and Did Not Completes pretty much everywhere else, I was kicked out for good.
In the years that have passed, I’ve thought from time to time about going back to college, about taking classes and earning those additional credits I’m missing that would qualify me for a degree.
For a long time, there always had been reasons not to—career, kids, getting the dry cleaning done. Theoretically, I have the time now to do it—to enroll in, say, Dinosaur Paleobiology (always been interested in dinosaurs) or the American South Since the Civil War or Early 20th Century African Literature.
I actually have taken some online courses, the History of Classical Music and Rediscovering the Lost Art of Cooking, but there are no grades and no credits offered. Meanwhile, I’ve never taken that official step to enroll in a real college program and earn those missing credits.
I have looked into whether I could get those so-called “life credits” for career accomplishments that would add to my total and maybe get me over the top.
They would indeed add to my total; they would not be enough to get me over the top. And anyway, it would sort of have been a technical achievement, not really earning a degree.
So, I’m left with wondering: Did I miss out? Would my life have been different had I gotten that college degree? Would my career have been different? Should I regret what I’m obviously, at this stage of my life, not going to change?
My wife says there are no “shoulds” here. But to be honest, I’m not sure.
A year after being thrown out of college for the last time, Neil Offen was covering the New York Mets and New York Yankees for the then-largest circulation afternoon newspaper in the country. Since then, he has written for major magazines, published more than a dozen books, including one made into a major Hollywood movie, been a magazine and newspaper editor, including for a weekly in Paris, was a radio news director and wrote a nationally syndicated comic strip. Plus, he once met Cary Grant.