COLUMN: Does wealth equal success

From Mike Liskey's, "The Road Less Traveled," Fall '96 From Mike Liskey's, "The Road Less Traveled," Fall '96Donald Trump's take on theFrom Mike Liskey's, "The Road Less Traveled," Fall '96Donald Trump's take on theworld sparks a personalFrom Mike Liskey's, "The Road Less Traveled," Fall '96Donald Trump's take on theworld sparks a personalreappraisal of life goals. From Mike Liskey's, "The Road Less Traveled," Fall '96Donald Trump's take on theworld sparks a personalreappraisal of life goals. Last week, desperately needing a break from statistics, I went to hear illustrious Wharton alumnus Donald Trump. I found myself shoulder to shoulder with Yuppie larvae. Despite the darkness of their 3-piece suits and the bulky obstacle course of their briefcases, I found a seat. In his speech, Trump glamorized both his successes and failures. He wore his resurrection from $8.8 billion of debt like a medal of honor. He then proceeded to inflate the egos of Whartonites in attendance by attributing their status as Wharton students to their superior genes. Trump was talking to Wharton students, but I took his remarks to apply to all Penn students. Temptation overcame me as I imagined myself as another Trump. This flash of weakness was similar to eating that extra piece of chocolate cake, knowing it will make you sick later. Those of you without sin can cast the first stone, but I began questioning my life goals and my very existence: Why am I in education? Why am I busting my ass in a field society doesn't respect or care about? Why shouldn't I be in business and making money? During my young career as an educator, I have witnessed and been entangled in most of the vices deeply rooted in the American public school system. My teaching "tour of duty" in South Central Los Angeles will forever be a part of me, much like Vietnam is still a part of many vets. Teachers struggling to create an environment conducive to learning were caught in a crossfire from a community at war, accurately depicted in the movie Boyz 'N' the Hood. Student apathy and near-daily shootings resulted in many casualties, including the windshield of my Toyota and the futures of countless students. Alan Alda, describing his character Hawkeye Pierce on the TV show M*A*S*H, called Pierce's job "meatball surgery" because he was charged with surgically putting soldiers back together in a manner similar to meat being slapped together for a meatloaf. "Doctors" on M*A*S*H tried to keep "soldiers" alive with stitches and prayers. There was no time for long-term care on the show because more and more casualties would flood in and the survivors of "meatball surgery" would be pushed out. M*A*S*H was only a show, but "meatball education" was my real-life frustration, horror and reality in South Central. The trenches where I taught and coached are possibly the worst in the nation. My altruism was quickly crushed by the massive weight of bureaucracy, corruption and the entrenched reverse racism that flourished within the administrative ranks of this urban school. I also found no sanctuary within the racially divided faculty, many of whom just wanted to finish their careers peacefully -- or die, and not necessarily in that order. As young and idealistic as I was, I knew I had to become an officer in the educational army because change wasn't going to start with me an enlisted man. I headed to officer candidate school (the Ph.D. program here at Penn), dreaming of the day when I would become one of those four-star clowns that run the war. My experience and studies to date have enlightened me to education's plight as the ultimate pawn in the game of politics. Education can easily checkmate any political candidate, but once in office, winners will just as easily sacrifice it for their other objectives. An apathetic citizenry further contributes to education's status as a merely seasonal concern, coming to the forefront once every four years when presidential candidates consistently use it as their social platform. During presidential campaigns, many promises and few dollars are thrown in the general direction of America's public school systems. Like the promises, the dollars are only aimed at short-term, temporary solutions that will pacify the MTV attention span of the masses until Election Day. Ordinary voters only see the symptoms of the disease -- and the politicians won't have their social platform in four years if they cure the disease itself. Unfortunately, many officers in the educational army understand that their employment depends on controversy and the lack of a cure for the cancer sweeping through our nation's schools. The same money that runs Trump's casinos and hotels also dictates how schools are governed and who is educated. The Fortune 500 CEO is the same as the school board member or school district administrator -- they just run different companies. The issues of resource allocation and personal gain can be masked in many ways, but they are the ultimate common denominator. When Trump finished talking, the Whartonites stampeded out with newfound inspiration. I don't view them as quite so evil anymore. At least they are upfront about their greed.