Non-Traditional Students: A push to include them in discussions about changing university culture
Two years in community college. Transfer. Two years at a university.
By the time I was seventeen, I had accepted that trajectory as my educational path.
I did not expect to use my first semester of community college as a decompression chamber from high school, although I did leave myself open to the possibility that I might change my major (which happened), and to the possibility that some classes might be harder than others (which also happened). I expected that I might take some classes one at a time, and tried to maintain a steady pace of taking two classes at once.
Those things also happened.
I did not expect to plan my science courses out an entire year in advance, meeting with my professors well before I was actually in their classes, just to make sure that they had all the accommodations necessary for me to pass them.
Those things also happened. I ended up passing both classes, including my lab science class in astronomy. By the time I began that class in particular, my attempt to pass the lab class in zoology had become a legendary example among the science department as far as what not to do when it came to students with disabilities or the counselors that help them succeed. I reacted to my experience in zoology by shadowing every single science class that I could in community college, scrupulously taking notes regarding the ways in which the teachers ran their classes. Like I said, it took a year.
Compared to all of that, my Hebrew class—my final class in community college—seemed fun. It was the perfect way to end six years there.
Having gone through that experience, I didn’t want to take any chances regarding where I transferred. The advantage of graduating in the fall was that I had three months to visit each of the universities that I applied to, talk with their disabled student services counselors and their Classics departments, and really, honestly decide where I felt the most comfortable.
I’m happy that I ended up being a Bruin.
My story is one of many stories of nontraditional students. Every one of these stories is unique. I transferred to UCLA when I was twenty-five; I graduated when I was twenty-eight. Although I technically qualify as a nontraditional student because of my age when I transferred, thankfully, I didn’t feel so out of place when it came to talking with the other students. The fact that I was attracted to UCLA’s vibrant student arts scene, coupled with being part of a very small and involved major, made the transition that much easier to deal with.
I consider myself to be quite lucky.
Others are not so lucky.
I noticed that UCLA made a considerable effort to form a nontraditional students’ network. I attended a few of those meetings, which mostly involves social events at the local restaurants in Westwood. In hindsight, that was all that we needed. During one quarter, I tried to foster an event similar to the Enormous Activities Fair, during which various clubs could come and talk to us about the ways in which students like us could be involved without necessarily attending their meetings.
Discussing that idea was very important to me. At the end of it all, I’m thankful that I got involved with many of the arts clubs on campus to the extent that I did. When I graduated, I left campus thinking that the role of nontraditional students in campus life would remain the way that it was.
Given our current situation, we know that that is not the case.
As campuses remain online while considering reopening plans, I would urge campus administrators to think about the ways in which nontraditional students could be helpful to campus culture—for the present and beyond.
A nontraditional student could be anyone. An older student; a student who is a parent; a commuter student; all three. They could be someone whose job keeps them occupied during the mornings and afternoons, and so they have to attend school at night. They could have simply taken longer to get through community college.
As our current situation intensifies, the wide variety of types of student are bound to increase. It is necessary for us to learn from the stories of these nontraditional students, so that they are a part of any discussion with the University when it comes to any changes the Regents might want to make.
In other words, maybe nontraditional students are more comfortable taking online courses. Maybe a nontraditional student has a different view of college and a younger student might have. Maybe they can be the bridge between this new online world and a student who is expecting an on-campus experience.
I’m asking for the eventual integration of nontraditional students into the university culture. Not recognition, per se, as much as helping people like us find and create jobs in student affairs (or similar ones) so that, if the Regents are considering any change to the college experience, they might look to our experience as a guide for making changes that make sense.
This is essential now more than ever. While free education and canceling student debt are necessary steps in the right direction, those two ideas alone won’t catapult a university into the twenty-first century. We need to discuss what going to a university means, and what the ultimate goal of a university is. The best group of people begin to answer that question are nontraditional students, specifically older nontraditional students, who approach the idea of a university and its resources in a different way. “The ultimate goal of a university” is a deep philosophical question, but it is one that every student should be involved in. From personal experience, I think that nontraditional students have essential roles to play behind the scenes at universities—student affairs, lay counseling, residential life, career support, student mentoring and such. Alumni of any university also have essential roles to play in the evolution of university culture. Alumni non-trads could provide universities with a wealth of information, based on life experience alone.
We’re here. We’re open. We’re all ears.