The Lazy Greed of Internships—or How a Good Idea Has Gone Bad

My older son today completed his classes at Temple University in the School of Tourism and Hospitality Management. He’s done this despite transferring from Bloomsburg University midway through his sophomore year. He put in the work, was energetic, creative and (mostly) persistent in learning inside and outside the classroom—and he is not finished. He needs one final internship to get his degree.

That internship isn’t a three-credit course. It’s 12! And it costs $10,000. Ten thousand dollars. Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

Maybe I’m a dinosaur. I went to college before the Rise of the Internship. Never had one. But this Cult of Interning has gotten way out of hand. It has twisted and contorted beyond the original impulse. Take my son’s circumstance.

This final internship was too unwieldy to do during a semester—and the first one he did, which he conjured up through his own hustle, didn’t count officially. That meant his final internship would occur after he had completed his studies.

He’ll do this “internship” at SugarHouse Casino, which hired him a couple weeks back for his first “adult” job. It will coincide with the first 12 weeks of his job. Yes, his first job IS his final internship.

It’s a pretty good job for a new graduate—except that after his first 12 weeks, all things considered, our family will be running about a $1,500 deficit on his combined employment/“studies”.

I understand the utility of internships for students—they are a good way to gain relevant experience and evaluate one’s interests and talents in doing what one studies.

But let’s be clear here—the more-profitable benefits of internships rest with the businesses, which get a supply of cheap, short-term labor (small comfort: fewer students are asked to do this work for free than in earlier years), and the colleges, which get an extra billable event, one that carries virtually no structural costs for the school (save me the “supervision” argument; I know faculty who visit student internship sites. It’s a perk, not an obligation, a chance to talk to folks in the industry, and all the costs would go away as soon as the checks stopped coming in from parents and The Feds).

I am grateful to Temple University for educating my son. He has completed his studies. He did well, he learned a lot, made useful connections and friends for life, and is well-positioned to transition into adulthood.

But being extorted 10 Grand to collect a diploma, that is wrong. And Temple should be ashamed to make this naked, final, overpriced grab at my wallet.

(Apparently I’m not alone, as there’s a movement at Seton Hall University pushing back on the Intern Industrial Complex.)

I suggest their alumni fundraisers wait until, oh, 2021, before reaching out about a gift.