Out of School, Out of Work
My fears surrounding graduating amid a global pandemic.
Story by Alex Barnes | Illustration by Evan Upchurch
Growing up with a teacher for a mom and a blue-collar worker for a dad, I was taught to take my education seriously. From Dorothy Fox Elementary School to Camas High School, the message was simple and constant: If you work hard and learn as much as you can, you can do anything you put your mind to.
This might sound like a cliche message that parents tell their kids in Hallmark movies, but my parents used their own careers to show me the importance of education firsthand.
My mom went to college straight after high school, and when my sister and I were young, she went back to school to finish her master’s degree in education. My dad, on the other hand, had the opportunity to go to college, but instead joined the workforce after having difficulties with upper-level math classes. He always told us not going to college was one of his biggest regrets, even if he was always able to provide a stable income for our family.
On countless occasions, my dad came home from work visibly exhausted from a long day of handling construction equipment to tell me, “Alex, I want you to go to college so you don’t have to work at a job like this.”
So, when I was accepted by Western in fall 2015, the decision to continue my education in Bellingham was a no-brainer. In some sense, I had always known that I would go to college, but when the time came, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study.
As I said goodbye to my parents after moving into my Fairhaven dorm room, I felt fully in control of my future, even though I hadn’t yet decided what classes I should register for.
Through nearly five years of college education, that confusion never lifted. Initially, I settled on computer science, but after failing two of the major classes, I decided I needed to make a change. After all, I was in control of my future.
I switched my major to journalism, initially with the news/editorial track, and then public relations. I have always loved sports, namely soccer and basketball, so the opportunity to write about sports and promote a sports organization through public relations was appealing.
I found more enjoyment from the first quarter of taking journalism courses than I did in two years of studying computer science. But now, mere months away from graduation, I find myself thinking about my life and budding career in a new and much darker light.
For the first time in my life, I feel like the ability to decide my own future has been taken out of my control.
The world has been plunged into overwhelming uncertainty. The COVID-19 pandemic has affected everybody in some way. Access to work, a stable income, housing, health and safety have all been put into question for millions of people worldwide.
The U.S. Department of Labor reported on May 8, 2020, the U.S. unemployment rate rose to 14.7 percent in April, but both of my parents still have their jobs. Nobody in my family has been sick yet, while the CDC reports nearly 1.4 million cases of COVID-19 and nearly 84,000 virus-related deaths in the U.S. alone as of May 14, 2020. Students across the country have seen months of education canceled, while I am still able to take online courses from the comfort of my own home.
Still, I feel vulnerable as someone who has very little work experience and is about to graduate from college with thousands of dollars of student loan debt.
The last requirement I need to graduate is a public relations internship, which I am slated to complete this summer. But despite countless applications, I have yet to secure a decent opportunity.
I can’t help but think, Am I even going to find the internship I need to graduate this summer? Will the search for a job post-graduation be more difficult than the search for a part-time internship? What happens if I find a job after I graduate, but COVID-19 forces another shutdown, and I end up losing it?
Some of my close friends have already been impacted by the virus.
One friend, Max Urbanek, graduated from the University of Washington in spring 2019 with a major in biology and a focus in environmental science. He chose to stay in Seattle after graduation, and until recently, was on the coronavirus front line. Before many of us knew how big it really was, Max sent a message to our Snapchat group.
“Hell of a time to be working in healthcare in Seattle,” he wrote.
Max was working as a contracted medical scribe for a doctor when he was informed that his job was being suspended indefinitely and without pay.
“Initially I thought I was kind of immune to [losing my job]. I was still getting work when a lot of other people were working from home,” Max said. “I wasn’t really expecting to not continue working, I was expecting to be exposed to the virus, and I think I probably was.”
After Max became unemployed, he spent some time in Seattle before going to stay with his boyfriend in Portland, Oregon. His plan was to take a gap year starting in June, before applying to graduate school next year. Now he finds himself in the same boat as millions of other Americans, unsure of what the future holds.
“The problem is that looking for a job now is not easy. Now I might just try to apply to grad school in the fall or next winter,” he said.
As the days rolled by and the virus spread north toward Bellingham, my friend Cole Hendricks knew it was only a matter of time before he too would be out of work. Cole graduated from Western in spring 2019 and has spent the last year working as a substitute teacher in Blaine, Washington, before all the school districts in the state canceled the remainder of the year due to COVID-19.
“The last week before we ended up canceling, it wasn’t a question of if we were going to cancel, it was a question of when, and then a question of for how long,” he said. “We all weren’t shocked that it happened, but it came in the middle of sixth period on a Friday… [co-workers] were like, ‘tell your kids to pack up their gear, because they won’t be coming back on Monday.’”
Fortunately, Cole was accepted to graduate school at Western spring quarter 2020, which allowed him some mental and financial reprieve from the whirlwind of information surrounding the future of his employment. But his immediate reaction was that of a teacher who would simply miss his job, and the human connections he had made.
“It was very surreal because I didn’t get to say goodbye to a lot of people that I would have wanted to, had I known that I wouldn’t be able to see them for the rest of the year,” he said.
In the days that followed, Cole came to the stark realization that the future of his job, both immediate and long term, is completely unknown. “Two or three days later it hit me: I’m out of work for at least the next two months,” he said.
The worst part of the situation is that nobody knows how this is going to shake out because the virus is out of everyone’s control. It could be another few weeks before stay-at-home orders start lifting, or it could be six months. People could slowly start returning to work by the end of the year, or unemployment could continue to rise and we could experience another depression.
Nobody knows.
However, the fact that nobody knows has become somewhat comforting to me, because it has helped me realize that we are all in the same boat together. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m not alone when I get anxious about the virus. Millions of people are experiencing the same exact thoughts.
While the impact of COVID-19 is out of my control, what remains in my control is the ability to continue applying to jobs and internships, and the ability to listen to the advice of local government officials, healthcare experts and the people who care about me.
I visited home recently after my parents asked if I wanted to come spend a few weeks with them. I couldn’t say no to the fire pit, hot tub and my two labs, Chloe and Hazel. The dogs met me at the door, jumping on me and supplying me with an unwavering amount of kisses like they always do. My mom, keen to the fact that I was stressed out, was waiting in the kitchen with a hug and some perspective.
“This too shall pass, Alex.”
