Real Solid Life Skills University

       Cambridge University offers a variety of degrees.  At the graduate level you can take a "research degree" or a "taught degree" and either way, the terminology of the University states that you are "reading" for a degree at Cambridge.  AKA you will spend almost all of your time with your nose buried in a book, journal or staring at a screen full of PDF's.  People here are attempting to answer questions such as "What is the Root of Poverty?" and "What Role do Nueroreceptors Play in the Experience of Pain?"  Questions range from the philosophical to the scientific, and most students (yours truly excluded believe it or not) can drop the names of theorists and articles like they were candy at a parade.  
       As a returning "older" student (egads!) there are times (aka ALL the time) when I wander around feeling not only a little lost, and utterly unsure of what it is I'm doing here, but also as if I have no way to understand what it is that this place and these courses want me to understand.  Sure, I can budget like you wouldn't believe, but do I have any idea what the real, serious epistemological difference between standpoint theory and intersectionality is?  No.  Do I care?  Not really?  Should I?  Yeah, my degree may depend on it.  Surrounded by brilliant young academics, I constantly am reminded that in addition to being at a totally different life stage than most of them, I don't quite belong here in a variety of subtler ways.  I grew up poor, my family while supportive, can't exactly help me be here, and due to some actually awesome philisophical views, don't really give cred to social institutions like "The Ivy League."  I'm not an academic, not even at heart, and I wear (GASP) bootcut blue jeans every day.   That said, I've thought of a place I DO absolutely belong, and sometimes wish I could be.
       I wish I could go "read" for a degree from a place called "Real Solid Life Skills University."   A school where the housing would be a decentish apartment that you shared with three people you were really really good friends with to start with, but each of whom had 1 or 2 really annoying habits that just got worse as the year progressed.  You'd have courses in things like "This Really Fresh, Really Good Fish Was Really Cheap, But Only Because it Still has the Head, Eyes, Guts and Bones, and Other Affordable Foods 101" or "Babysitting and 2 Hours in the Cat Starts Puking and You Can't Get Ahold of the Owners."  The final would be: "Do you and two crying children go to the vet on your mo-ped, or do you risk letting the cat die?  Why or why not."
       Your papers would be on subjects like "Thanksgiving again, and Uncle Bob is still racist, homophobic and sexist: what are your options?"  and "You work 2 minimum wage jobs, can't afford food, let alone anything else, and yet you believe firmly in doing all that you can to not support unfair labor practices in Sri Lanka: how many t-shirts can you buy at 2$ a shirt until you feel real guilt?"
        In real life university you'd be able to cut corners just a little bit routinely, but would randomly get ticketed for doing so, like driving in any major city.  Your deadlines would be flexible with the right people, and most people would be the right sort of people, but every once and a while a rule-monger would appear, and you'd have to suddenly learn to cope, like most of your working life.
       You'd have surprise exercises in the middle of classes.  Budgeting Class would get thrown mid term by "Broken Wrist, Pay Hospital Bills" and "Being a Decent Person" class would get invaded by a tea-partying grandmother, replete with adorable sugar cookies and misspelled sign.  "How Sick Am I Really?" has some overlapping sessions with "Oh Shit Am I Pregnant?," and both of those courses share space on a long day with "Wasn't This Whole Thing Supposed To Be A One-Night Stand?"
           There's risk-taking at the Real Solid Life Skills University.  Frats would host parties entitled "Is This Really the Facebook Photo You Want Your Future Boss To See?" and "Making Wealthy Young Men Look Like Jerks, One Party At A Time."  
         Surprise quizzes, not limited to class rooms, or even hours when sane people are awake, would cover topics like "Who CAN you call at 3am?", "Hey, Isn't That My Shirt?" and "Family vs. Friends: ForeverAlone has to Choose."
       "Real Solid Life Skills University will have a mandatory course for graduates that they'll take 10-15 years after completing their first degree.  Upon your eventual return to school, you'll be forced to sit through "This is Another Bureaucratic Hoop That Neither of Us Needs", which will be a pain in the butt, but easier than "Here's What's Cool Now: Hint, You Aren't," and certainly cheerier than "Eldercare Homes and the Lies They Tell You 101," all of which would be less sobering than the "Your Parents Are People Too" and "Divorce: Maybe It's Time."  Every single one of which would beat "You Can't Eat Like That Anymore" and "You Didn't Know You Had a Ligament There, Now It's Torn."
       I would rock at Real Solid Life Skills University, particularly since I finished the early courses (Take Care of Yourself, No One Else Will, and Couch Surfing Is Not As Glamarous As It Seems) well before age 16.  But instead of "Arguing with Bill Collectors" I'm taking "Gendered Methodologies" and wondering just exactly where I went wrong.  That said, getting an MPhil does fit well into the lessons I learned at "Hoops You Jump Through To Get A Better Job" and "Don't Say No If You'll Regret Doing So On Your Deathbed."  So here I am.  Yes-anding in a place that I still don't believe I can ever really belong, because when I was a kid I took "Here's a Shovel, Clean The Chicken Coop" not "Success; Here it Is!"