I sat in the classroom without really being in the class, having mentally checked out a few weeks earlier. I looked out the window at the DePaul University extension campus as the snow began to fall.
I love snow, and the way it fell against the glow of campus lights was damn near magical.
Macroeconomics, however, was not.
I thought back to the last time I was academically happy. It certainly wasn’t in that classroom. It was at that moment that I decided to drop out of the MBA program with four classes left.
It was time to return home.
My academic journey was hardly a straight line as life frequently got in the way. Several years earlier, I was halfway through the master’s in Writing program at DePaul when the temptation of practicality overtook me, and I dropped Writing to pursue my MBA.
Career movement and all.
The day after that macroeconomics class, I snuck out of work early and drove to DePaul, where I dropped the class, my MBA program, and re-enrolled in the Writing program.
My first class back was Grammar and Structure. Dr. Craig Sirles, who I had years before, read the roster and paused when he came to my name.
“Let me tell you about Randy Dojutrek.” He took off his glasses and leaned on the lectern.
“He was a brilliant student who disappeared some years ago.” He continued, “Which was it, Joliet or Stateville?” referencing two Illinois prisons.
“Neither,” I replied, “MBA program.”
“Ugh,” was his only comment.
I was home.
I tell that story a lot when I have coffee talks with people looking to start graduate school. It almost never fails that the programs they ask me about are the MBA and the technology track.
It never fails that I ask them to expand their thinking. It’s not that I have anything against MBAs or advanced technical degrees, it’s just that graduate school is difficult enough and true interest in a subject helps to guarantee it’s viewed as less of a slog and more of a treat.
Academically, that is.
While parts of my MBA program were mildly interesting, I knew in my heart, mind, and career choices that I would never need to know rises, runs, slopes, graphs, and demand curves.
All vitally important in business, of course. But my interest was in the people side of leadership, and economics never particularly resonated with me.
One thing the MBA did teach me, however, was the notion of a sunk cost. Defined as money, time, or effort that has already been spent and cannot be recovered, this single premise has universal value across all disciplines, specifically in the fallacy of continuing down a path because so much effort has been previously expended.
I have used that in so many conversations and decisions that it was worth the entire amount of money spent on the MBA program.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Writing, however, has served me in good stead as both leader and, well, writer, once my corporate expiration date arrived.
So I challenge their thinking.
“What do you enjoy?” is a key question I ask. It’s amazing how difficult it is for most people to answer.
So far, no one has ever answered economics.
I then ask for long-term career goals. Many say leadership. Through the years and my experiences, I’ve become pretty good at determining those who mean it and those who think that’s what they should do.
The truth is that, whatever their end goal may be, critical thinking goes a long way in not only acquiring specialized knowledge but also applying it.
Modern leadership asks for more than subject matter expertise in accounting and economics. There’s communication, psychology, sociology, ethics, and a slew of other disciplines.
To quote Sheldon Cooper, “Oh, the humanities!”
I’ve earned bachelor’s degrees in English, Secondary Education, and Computer Science. I completed my master’s in Writing (and had a blast doing so), and went on to earn another master’s in Organizational and Relational Communications.
And oh so close to that MBA.
From a practical standpoint, I view them as one degree.
My MBA, if you will.
That strange 80/20 mix of humanities and science provided me with the tools and framework to navigate a career with more twists and turns than I care to remember.
Time and money well spent.
And of course, my dear friend, the sunk cost.
From a business standpoint, that was a pretty good academic resume, and I achieved a modicum of success with it through the years.
Inevitably, my coffee companions balk at the thought of humanities furthering a technical career, and I get it, but the mistake is thinking that humanities are the antithesis of business when in fact they’re more its hippie cousin.
Making connections, especially across seemingly disparate things, is both an art and a science. It transcends any single discipline while drawing from many. The reality is that while graduate programs provide the opportunity, it’s up to the student to recognize the connections.
Some develop it through deep specialization.
I developed mine by connecting different disciplines and writing requests for corporate tuition reimbursement.
I just traded labs and code for classes in bars and Guinness.
And classes in bars—always a plus.
I will say that in the decades I’ve been in technology, not one interviewer ever asked me about my technical degree. They focused instead on the others.
You see, novelty can be a differentiator.
And to be fair, most technical people hate writing.
They’re in for a treat.
When I was knee-deep in my Computer Science degree, I decided to switch to English teaching. My mom, ever supportive, said this was a good thing as computers would eventually program themselves.
She said that in 1982, forty-four years ago as of this writing.
AI is increasingly making this, and more, a reality. We’re not quite there yet, but we’re getting closer.
I fondly call AI “English teachers’ revenge.”
Prompt engineering is now the ultimate expression of GIGO (garbage in, garbage out), and the ability to communicate clearly, concisely, and intentionally has become more important than ever, along with evaluating outcomes, questioning assumptions, and recognizing when a persuasive answer is just plain wrong.
Feels a lot like education and communications to me.
None of this would be possible without scientists working in machine learning, deep learning, neural networks, generative AI, and a host of other specialties.
All of this work allows me to ask a simple question.
“Explain macroeconomics to me as if I were a five-year-old.”
I now know more than I learned in that class.
And yes, that one’s on me.
AI will have radical changes to the makeup of existing degrees. It will move us away from some specializations and increase the value of others. People who can connect disciplines, exercise individual judgment, and, most importantly, understand human behavior will ultimately be able to navigate our new reality and make the most of AI.
At least until the robots rise to kill us.
Just kidding, I think.
I’m a big believer in continuous learning as well as grad school, but for the love of God, think more broadly. Balancing work and school is hard enough without bringing work to school. I left the MBA program when it felt like work.
Writing never did.
Mix it up a little.
I’d get a degree like that.
Or maybe I already did.