Life 101. (Editor's Note).

EVERY MONTH WHEN I SIT DOWN TO PEN THIS EDITOR'S NOTE, THE obligation to write about an issue of major import weighs on me like an obstinate, outsized cat installed upon my shoulders for the duration of the exercise. But sometimes, I decide to fling the responsibility across the room, ignoring the mewling protests of my conscience, and write about whatever I darn well please. This is one of those days. So forgive me while I disregard climbing tuitions, falling aid, the affirmative action battle, and every other ill we're facing at the moment. Today, I want to wonder out loud why our kids are teaming everything on campus except how to survive in the complicated, politically and etiquettely correct, buyer-beware, everyday world.

Last week, when the following little item came across my desk, I swear I heard something inside of me go "boing"--just like in those old Warner Brothers cartoons. Here's the item, verbatim:

   "REAL WORLD" PROGRAMS--At Texas Christian University
   in Fort Worth, seniors gathered recently at a downtown hotel
   for a two-day seminar on "real world" issues. How do you
   lease a car? Rent an apartment? Buy insurance? Eat a fancy
   meal during a job interview? At Mansfield University in
   Mansfield, Pa., Sharon Carrish's business and professional
   communication course features heavy doses on etiquette
   training, culminating in a formal dinner that mimics a job
   interview. The course is fast becoming a "rite of passage" for
   MU students. Susquehanna University in Selinsgrove, Pa.,
   offers something similar: a "power dining" experience.
   Roanoke College in Salem, Va., instructs seniors on how to
   choose the right wine for dinner among other social graces.
   Increasingly, colleges are taking on the task of "polishing"
   seniors for the job search and life beyond.

Now, maybe these classes sound to you like only the most recent additions to course offerings that pander to the ever-growing student need for easy-A electives--but I beg to differ. The most curious thing about life is that it's the seemingly "little" things that cripple us, and keep us fearful about making our way in the world. If that were not the truth, then why is the ability to speak in public Number One on the list of human fears--even over the fear of losing one's spouse or one's job? If that were not so, then why is it ignorance of the most fundamental principles of budgeting and investing that keeps so many Americans mired in credit-card debt, and oblivious to even the most basic income-growth opportunities? Why are so many women afraid to purchase houses and cars? Why are so many men intimidated by laundry and cooking? Why does the mere mention of the words "business dinner" keep people in midlevel jobs? Why are so many people willing to remain in bad marriages rather than handle the bills/the kids/the repainting/the gardener without a partner? Why do people stay in "safe" jobs rather than aggressively market themselves to the jobs of their dreams?

Though it is certainly not a new concept (the sherry-with-professors ritual of Ivy League schools was the precursor), I have to say I simply love the idea of preparing our country's youth for life, not just for careers or callings. My only reservation is that at the college level, some of this instruction (maybe about half of it) comes a good deal later than it probably should. In fact, I attribute much of my own son's comfort with the daily challenges of life (granted, at 20, those challenges are still numbered) to a teacher he was lucky enough to have when he was in pro-middle school, who felt the same way.

In that fifth-grade year of their lives, every subject my son and his classmates took was offered under a life-preparation umbrella program. In combined classes (e.g., Math and Social Studies), they learned how to track down, apply for, interview for, and secure a job in a bad economy. They had to locate and rent apartments and furnish them, secure transportation, and budget daily and monthly expenses--all based upon the jobs they were able to land, and other income they were able to bring in. Mock marriages were played out; children were added (or not added) to the mix. Houses were insured, flooded, and repaired; careers were begun and then redirected. Even serious illness was encountered and managed medically, logistically, and financially. I remember like yesterday coming upon my son near the beginning of the program, more distraught than I had ever seen him.

"What could possibly have happened?" I asked him. "I've never seen you so upset!" My 11-year-old looked back at me, ruefully.

"I bought a Porsche, and now I can't afford my apartment," he uttered. "I can't sell the car for anything near what I bought it for. I'll have to move to a dump."

Now granted, it was a pretend Porsche, a pretend apartment, and a pretend dump. But believe me, at that moment in time, all three were much too real for him. I don't think he's forgotten the experience, but he's due to head out into the world in 2005. I'll let you know how it goes.

You can reach Kathy Grayson at [e-mail].