Friday, November 30, 2001

College does not solve all problems
By Matt Stiver
Skiff Staff

My mom is going to cry. That much you can write in stone. Moms do that sort of thing. I suppose they cannot help it.

At around 3:30 p.m. two weeks from Saturday, I will become the first Stiver male in my family with a college degree on the wall (note to Rach: Remember the Kleenex).

What does that mean to the readers of this column? Not much. You probably know nothing about me, nor care to.

To those with whom I’ve enjoyed frosty beverages and late-night card games, stick with me. To the rest of you, stick around. You’re in for a good read.

TCU promised me (well, rule of law may not support the argument) the opportunity to meet life-long friends while finding myself and learning life lessons.

It didn’t quite happen, though university ad slicks do a credible job selling the message. (I wonder how many health plans those junk leaflets would buy?) Friends met under varying circumstances will most likely fade away, as life pulls and prods all in different directions. For those who still converse weekly with college chums, more power to you. Maybe I should have bought my friends instead.

Even this collection of words stands symbolic. For many moons, this newspaper has allowed senior staff members a final word. A last will and testament for those who bled, literally and figuratively, to practice an art everyday. To create something tangible, day in, day out. Did I spend weeks crafting this message? Days? Try hours.

Did I ever write a paper, study for a test or prepare a project ahead of time? No. Was this a waste of chances? Quite the opposite. I know the reach of my ability knows no limit.

College affords us the chance to build ourselves into something new, into a dream that began in grade school, into a vision realized at the two-decade mark.

I am a journalist, and a rather talented one at that. Yet for 20 years, I lived with a crushing disability. Or so I came to believe. Had someone told me at age 20 (after two years at TCU and three majors) the story of the past three years, I would not have believed it.

You define you. Know no limits. Heard this one before? Clichés of the sort have resounded in the language of the Bard, indeed all human tongues, for centuries. Maybe a reason exists for that. Perhaps truth resides.

To hell with boundaries and the feeble opinions of others. Become an astronaut, if it suits you. Invent something grand. Or, if you fall for a woman halfway around the world, in Australia for example, go to her and make your happiness. World be damned.

Did TCU play any sort of role in such realizations? What opportunity did it afford? Not much, really. Have the situations and interactions forced a degree of cognitive dissonance? Perhaps. Or maybe we all need time to grow.

What does this mean? Have the last five years created as many questions as answers?

Where does the long and winding road lead? Not sure. Will future employment fall within this field? Don’t know.

But I do know my mom is going to cry at 3:30 p.m., two weeks from Saturday .

Graduating senior Matt Stiver is a senior news-editorial journalism and history major from Uniontown, Ohio. He can be contacted at (m.r.stiver@student.tcu.edu).