College Advice from Someone Who Sucked at College

I did well in high school. I’ve done well on all the standardized tests I’ve taken (PSAT, SAT, ACT, GRE, GMAT). I did terrible at college. To be fair to myself, I did manage to finally earn my BS, graduating Magna Cum Laude, but it took me three different colleges to get there. Since then, even though I’ve taken a smattering of postgraduate classes, I still don’t have my Masters. I’ve jumped from program to program. I’ve been accepted into universities then dropped out before even classes even began. My school record at this point is so spotty that I’d have to grovel and beg to be accepted into a community college or for-profit school. (That wasn’t meant as a slam again community colleges and for-profit schools, simply an acknowledgement that their entrance requirements tend to be not very stringent.) In the process of doing college poorly, I’ve learned some things that might help students just entering university do college well.

First, you must accept a few unpleasant facts:

  • You will have some bad teachers.
  • You will have some unpleasant classmates.
  • You will have some classes—usually required ones—that literally put you to sleep.
  • Group projects suck.
  • Grading is not always fair.

So my first piece of advice is this: Stick with it anyway! That’s also my second, third and fourth piece of advice.


  • College will offer you all sorts of awesome travel opportunities; take advantage.
  • Join on-campus groups and clubs.
  • You might be meeting people of different nationalities, races, and religions for the first time. Embrace that.
  • There are wonderful online sources to help you, BUT…
  • Don’t cheat. Don’t cheat. Don’t cheat.
  • Use the library! Use the librarians!
  • Attend as many free lectures, concerts, and student productions as possible.
  • Experiment with subjects that are new to you.
  • You may discover that your first choice of a major is wrong for you. Feel free to switch, but don’t obsess about getting it exactly right. It’s more important to complete your undergraduate degree with a major in a field you later abandon than to waste years dithering (my big downfall).
  • Stick with it.

College has become insanely expensive. It’s not hard to find voices that argue against going at all. And it’s not for everybody. But for most people, I think it can still be a great life experience. Stick with it.



Has Sunday morning become to casual?

I am old enough that I can remember when going to church meant dressing up. Men wore jacket & tie; women wore a nice dress. Older folks wore hats. By the time the organist (who happened to be my mom) finished her prelude, the congregation was in place, ready to stand and sing the first hymn.

These days, jeans and a casual shirt are the norm for all genders. In the summer, flip-flops and shorts prevail.  People likely dress up more for work during than week than for church on Sunday. Our mainline Protestant service begins with two or three contemporary Christian songs from the praise team. For the first ten to fifteen minutes, people continue to chat in the narthex, refill their coffee, grab a donut, and slowly filter into the sanctuary.

There is something comforting in the relaxed atmosphere, but I wonder: Has Sunday morning lost its specialness? There is something to be said for traditional hymns, a choir in robes, a minister in clerical attire. These things used to set church apart. Sunday morning was not like other mornings. Its differentness put people in a certain frame of mind—a knowledge that this time and place had a meaning beyond the everyday. If the church is trying to reach more people by becoming just another entertainment, it is not only going to lose to secular pop culture, it also risks losing its identity.

There are ways to be inviting, to foster a “come as you are” openness, while maintaining a sense of ancient otherness. I once attended an Episcopal church in Boston that discouraged dressing up, because it was an inner city church that wanted the area’s homeless to feel they could join in worship without feeling out of place. The service itself, however, was High Church. Sung liturgy, a censer with incense, rectors in vestments, traditional hymns accompanied by organ. The idea was to allow people from any station in life to attend casually yet be treated extraordinarily.

This type of compromise is not going to work everywhere. A church is more than a fancy building and elaborate accoutrements. Furthermore, church isn’t something to be done for an hour or two on Sunday morning in isolation from the rest of the world. But I think Sunday morning worship deserves to be both delivered and received as a special occasion.

“Oh wanderer come home
You’re not too far
Lay down your hurt
Lay down your heart
Come as you are”

– David Crowder / Ben Glover / Matt Maher


Anthropocene Reviewed reviewed

Having recently written about connections on this blog (Book Habits), I thought I would turn my attention today to another exploration of connections: John Green’s podcast The Anthropocene Reviewed (Anthropocene Reviewed), in which Green “reviews facets of the human-centered planet on a five-star scale.”

Google Dictionary defines Anthropocene as “the current geological age, viewed as the period during which human activity has been the dominant influence on climate and the environment,” which is itself a controversial and fascinating topic.  In each episode of the pod, Green talks about two things, for example: “Teddy Bears and Penalty Shootouts” or “Hawaiian Pizza and Viral Meningitis.” The two subjects of each episode aren’t necessarily compared to each other. In fact, Green rarely ties them together in any way, but simply having such disparate things reviewed in close proximity to each other invites one to find connections. (My personal favorite two episodes are “Velociraptors and Harvey” and “Tetris and the Seed Potatoes of Leningrad.”) Each episode is around 20 minutes long, and is thoughtfully written. A special pleasure is the quality of John Green’s delivery. His speaking voice is well-suited to the introspective nature of the pod.

Green’s fans also know him from his zanier podcast Dear Hank and John, made with his brother, and highly successful YouTube channels like VlogBrothers and Crash Course. He can rightly be called an internet superstar. Before turning his attention to the internet, John Green had already published his first two young adult novels, Looking for Alaska (winner of won the Michael L. Printz Award, which is given by the American Library Association literary to recognize the “best book written for teens, based entirely on its literary merit”) and An Abundance of Katherines.  It was on YouTube, however, that his fame exploded. Beginning in 2007 with Brotherhood 2.0, Green’s online presence has made him a celebrity, and one of the internet’s top educators and communicators. This from a man whose first video (January 2, 2007) begins, “I’m not going to be good at this!”

Just as I enjoy finding connection between different books, and between books and everything else, I enjoy discovering and following the connections among the Green brothers’ many projects. The Anthropocene Reviewed is a podcast which should appeal to anyone who is broadly curious about life and its interconnections. I give The Anthropocene Reviewed 4 ½ stars.


Book Habits

When I read a book, I highlight passages that I think I might want to find quickly later on. I also jot down notes and cross-references in the margins, most of which would not make any sense to anyone other than myself. On top of that, if there are longer passages I want to remember, I note those along with appropriate page numbers on the first blank page. And yes, I slap a bookplate on my books as well, usually inside the front cover. (All of these practices drive my wife up the wall. She has sometimes resorted buying her own copy of books she wants to read so that she won’t have to see my vandalism.)

I do this more now than I used to. For most of my life, I read books as isolated experiences unless they happened to be for a class at school which required me to think of them in relation to one another. Over the past few years, as I have accumulated more memories and—I hope—a greater store of knowledge, my reading habits have subtly changed. The more I read, and the more I think about what I read, the more I notice connections between books, across genres, and in relation to life in general. Deliberately looking for ways to bring books out of their silos has made reading more meaningful to me.

Which brings us to the question of how many books to keep on hand. Some housekeeping experts say that once a book has been read, it should leave the house. (“Does it spark joy?”) Over the years, I have donated, sold, or given away dozens, if not hundreds, of books. I wish I had most of them back. I have bought, purged, then rebought the same book multiple times. I long for the day when I can afford a big enough place to have an organized home library. If I read a book that I know I’ll never read again, whether it’s because I didn’t like it or because it was just plain bad, I’m okay with letting that one go. Otherwise, I do return to books. They are friends I like to keep close.


It’s Complicated

A conservative friend posted this joke on Facebook recently:

Bernie Sanders walks into a bar. “Drinks for everyone!” he says. “Who’s paying?”

The joke made me laugh, in spite of the fact that I like Bernie Sanders. (I’m not sure he should be the Democratic candidate to run against Trump in 2020, however. The Democrats need someone who can convert a red voter into a blue voter, and I don’t think Bernie is that person. But that’s a topic for another time.)

What bothers me about jokes like this is that they have become the entire political debate in this country. Whoever invented the joke, and everyone who has since reposted it, no doubt think they have scored points in the election process, but elections are more nuanced than that. Political discourse should not come in the form of tweets and memes. (International dialogue should certainly not come in the form tweet-storms, and someone needs to tell our president that.)

The appeal of soundbites is that they appear to make a point in a pithy, easily-digestible manner. We are so loaded with responsibilities that our days are scheduled down to the minute from the time we wake up until the time we go to bed for too little sleep. We are so bombarded with information that anything which promises to help us whittle it down to manageable bits comes as welcome relief.

But the promise is false. Life is more complicated than that, and oversimplification, while appearing to help, actually hinders our understanding of the world. We should all be more careful how we consume information, especially online, where memes and tweets rule, and fact-checking is an after-thought if it’s thought of at all. Author John Green hosts a YouTube playlist designed to help (Crash Course Navigating Digital Information). It’s largely aimed at students, but the advice is sound for anyone trying to navigate the complexities of the information (and disinformation) superhighway.



I love reading. If I ever find out I have 24 hours to live, I know how I will spend it. I will buy the best bottle of Cognac I can afford, gather up a nice assortment of cheese, crackers, and olives, stack a few books of interest within reach, then drink, eat, and read myself into the next world. I’ve been sick all this past week, and there were a few nights when I was close to wanting to do exactly that.

As a kid, I was fortunate to have two great storytellers in my life: my dad and his mom, my grandma. It was a rare night that I didn’t get a bedtime story. First there was Dr. Seuss, of course, and other children’s books like Go, Dog Go!, The Mice Who Loved Words, Never Tease a Weasel, and dozens of Little Golden Books. When I got a little older, I became enraptured with the Mother West Wind books by Thornton Burgess, the Bobbsey Twins, and then (fanfare, please): The Hardy Boys!

The first book I read entirely by myself was What Spot? ( At some point our grade school librarian introduced us to the Newbery Medal books, and I made it my quest to read them all…in chronological order. I remember my dad’s frustration when I had trouble finding a copy of Smoky the Cowhorse (1927 winner) at our local library. “Why don’t you just read the next one?” “No!” A series of frantic phone calls (on a rotary phone) located Smoky in a library at the opposite end of town; dad reluctantly drove me there so I could my project uninterrupted. (I like to think he was privately proud of my dedication.)

I never made it through all the Newbery Medal books on that first attempt. Many years later, though, this time as an adult, I decided to revisit that earlier goal. With the help of the librarians in the children’s room at the Cambridge Public Library and the miracle of interlibrary loan, this time I finished! The latest Newbery winner at the time was Richard Peck’s A Year Down Yonder (2001). With only two exceptions, I’ve kept up with the Newbery winners ever since, and frequently encourage other adults to check out the children’s section next time they’re in the library. Lots of good reading there. But no Cognac.

New Faces Needed

Kenneth Copeland lives in a $6.3 million dollar mansion. When he flies, he does so in one of a fleet of 5 multi-million dollar private jets. According to, his net worth is $760 million ( He is also one of the most visible faces of a religion that purportedly follows a man who famously spent his life among and as one of the poor. For the past several days, the internet has been having a field day with a widely circulated video showing Copeland being interviewed by Lisa Guerrero, a reporter for news magazine Inside Edition ( In the video, Copeland is not only incapable of forming a complete sentence, or of making the least bit of sense, he looks like a Hollywood casting agent’s dream candidate for the role of Demon in a low-budget thriller.

Why does the church put up with these guys? Small wonder young people are avoiding the church when its most public figures are loons like Copeland, television slick-talkers like Benny Hinn, and bigoted fanatics like the Westboro Baptist Church protesters. How can anyone take Christianity seriously when prominent Evangelical pastors tout Trump as if he were the natural successor to Jesus Christ?

Ever since Ronald Reagan threw open the doors of government to his religious fundamentalist buddies, the face of Christianity has been not Jesus teaching the Beatitudes on the mount (Mt 5:3-11), but a parade of well-dressed and undeniably charismatic superstar preachers. It’s time for churches to speak up, and stop letting these greedy bigmouths control the dialogue. We need some new faces, and we need them fast.