From time to time, I hear the pseudo-socialists that populate fashionable campuses clamor about separating colleges from the economic pressures they feel and create. Such an idea is a product of idealism so sentimental it makes babies and puppy dogs alike vomit. Whether we measure wealth by dollars, shares of stock, shotgun shells, or virgins reserved for us in paradise, substantial universities will be economic institutions until societies no longer face any scarcities. Trying to reform colleges without changing society at large would be like filling your gas tank with hydrogen in the fervent hope that your Honda's four-cylinder internal combustion engine will turn into a fuel cell once it realizes the advantages of the new.
Part of the problem in discussing this issue has been that universities operate with an almost incomprehensible amount of money. Any sort of tower requires a great deal of funding to operate, and those made of ivory require more polishing than most. To put it in familiar terms: If my current alma mater, Stanford University, shut down tomorrow, it could give a dollar to every single man, woman, and child on the face of the Earth. Or it could give me 6 billion dollars, preferably in small un-marked bills. This godlike wealth deserves not only our respect and consideration but also a healthy dose of human sacrifice and graven image worship. I am not so vain in my abilities as a writer to think that this essay could form a holy text for the nascent religion of Educationism.
In a fortuitous and purely random coincidence, this topic is precisely large enough to require a series of mediocre and mildly repetitive essays on the subject. I accept this charge. I will discuss all the interesting aspects of educational economics, like tuition and financial aid, legacy admission, $30,000 palm trees, student group funding, and the like. Only in instances of uncommon desperation will I revert to the boring aspects like student theater, class distinctions, and textbook prices. For the sake of my readers, I promise to skewer celebrities like James Clark and Jane Fonda who fabricate excuses to renege on their pledges after the stock market has an off-week and they panic to find their hundreds of millions whittled down to the mere pittance of tens of millions. Throughout this series, I will highlight the stupidity of administrators and bureaucracies wherever they may exist (mainly because these stupidities exist anywhere either administrators or bureaucracies do). After tearing down, examining, and satirizing everything that is wrong with our system, I will put it back together in a new shape, a better shape: An educational system that every capable person may attend without incurring crushing debt. A system where money is spent only for the absolutely necessary or incredibly shiny. Where teachers are paid enough to attract, if not the best and brightest, at least the better and brighter. For this invaluable service, I require nothing more than your attention and consideration. And, during our half-price sale, 3 billion dollars in small, unmarked bills.