Local Student Asks, “Does The Future Include Me?”

When I was growing up I used to love dreaming about what I would be when I got older. Maybe a veterinarian, a teacher, doctor, a writer. My dreams and hopes were immeasurable. As I grew older, I saw that many jobs were being lost; many people no longer had job security. I became concerned about what I would do when I reached an age where a decision must be made. Would my job choice be sufficient for me to live somewhat comfortably and have a sense of job security?


As part of our series, “The Recession Outside My  Window,” our guest writer is eighteen year old  Ashley Colombo, Sullivan County resident, grocery store clerk and full-time  Orange County Community College student (OCCC). “I absolutely love it at OCCC — have never enjoyed school more,” she says.  “I’m going to be majoring in psychology, English, and criminology, but don’t  have a clue what I want to do when I grow up.”)

When I was growing up I used to love dreaming about what I would be when I got older. Maybe a veterinarian, a teacher, doctor, a writer. My dreams and hopes were immeasurable. As I grew older,  I saw that many jobs were being lost; many people no longer had job security.  I became concerned about what I would do when I reached an  age where a decision must be made. Would my job choice be sufficient for me to  live somewhat comfortably and  have a sense of job security?

Then, I began thinking about our technological revolution and how dependent we are on it. I realized that many jobs will be lost due to this revolution. For instance, in the future, schools won’t be necessary. Kids will sit in their homes and have their lessons broadcast to them. Thus, custodians, school nurses, teacher’s aides, cafeteria ladies, administration, guidance counselors are just a few positions that won’t be necessary. I believe, literally, that hundreds and thousands of jobs will  be annihilated due to our dependence on technology.

I also thought about the  overwhelming amount of money we’re forced to spend on school  in order to gain access to  many  soon-to-be   nonexistent jobs.  What bothers me most about going to college  and possibly beyond, is that after we spend thousands upon thousands of dollars, we are not guaranteed a job in the field we have so painstakingly studied. I know that as technology is totally integrated into  our society,  all those college degrees and doctorates and those cute little paper diplomas with the shiny seals, will mean absolutely nothing.

We hope that the pretty piece of paper in that frame will buy us groceries and pay our bills but  too many of us will  fall into the ‘my job choice no longer exists’ category. That’s what faces us even as  we start our adult lives in thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

It worries me that school costs so much in the first place.  It  makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.  Why must it be so hard to get ahead? We pay dearly for trying to make ourselves into something —  to better ourselves and to enrich our lives. What for? Why should I spend this money to try and make my life better, when in the end all it will do is knock my legs out from under me and take everything I have?

This seriously discouraged me about wanting to go back to school. I knew I had to, but did I really want to go through all of it just  to end up  coming home from being a greeter at a chain supermarket and  looking at the forsaken piece of framed paper hanging up on my wall,  knowing I was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt because of it?  It’s a repulsive vision of a future that will probably be the reality faced by most of my generation and the generations to come.

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(Breathing Note:  Please encourage our Guest Writers by clicking the very tiny, nearly invisible “comment”  link hidden in the tags and categories beneath Ashley’s commentary.  Breathing Is Political extends its heartfelt appreciation to Ashley for participating in our “View Outside My Window”  series.)

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Stockholm Syndrome & Global Positioning Systems


My son bugged unremittingly until I replaced my old cell phone with one that offered GPS services.  He was sure that happenstance was  the only reason I ever arrived anywhere.

Before my next road trip, the phone was programmed with my location and destination and lay cushioned on the passenger seat like an electronic umbilicus.  Next to it were my daughter’s handwritten directions which I would hide  before pulling into my son’s driveway.  He doesn’t understand the comfort of a paper I can  read myself or shake under his nose the day the signals die.  (See:  American Pie)

I’m the Mom because I’ve been jolted out of smugness more than he has.  He’s wise in many ways but sometimes his imagination fails for lack of experience.  Computers have always been part of his life. He can’t envision a day, for instance,  when traffic jams disrupt orbiting signals.  (NY Times, Colliding Satellites). To tell the truth, neither can I; but I’ve been jolted enough to know that denying the possibility of something  is generally  shortsighted:  “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, [t]han are dreamt of in your philosophy.” *

As I turned left toward the freeway,  the GPS voice was irritatingly indifferent to outcomes – possessed of cadences that would sail through a nuclear strike  so long as batteries and towers escaped the melting.

During the first half hour of the trip, I was pleased to ignore her– to wrest control.  When I passed the second turn in favor of the third, she had no quippy comeback.  The car was silent except for the burring of my own anticipation.  How much stress was built into the system?

Like a Terminator, relentless in its dedication to mission,  the GPS re-configured herself;  aligned herself to new data and surroundings. “Recalculating route,” she said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and made a Frodo-vow to leave her in my pocket except under the direst of circumstances.

After three hours into a two hour trip, the four lane highway had tapered to a stream trickling between vacant motels and closed gas stations.  I hadn’t seen  a familiar landmark for miles and the winter sun was dimming.  At a crossroads in a small town,  I turned the phone back on, finger poised  to enter my new orientation.  Without missing a beat,  her uninflected tones assured me she was  again, “Recalculating the route.”

In the silence, I felt her omnipresence. She would always know where I was.  I would never be lost again.  “[She]wouldn’t stop, [she] would never leave [me]. [She]…was the only thing that measured up. In an insane world, [she] was the sanest choice.”  (Terminator 2).**

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