What Is The Point Of University? A Parent’s Honest Perspective For Families Deciding College
Last Saturday night, I was folding a mountain of soccer laundry at the coffee table while my 17-year-old Lila slouched on the couch, scrolling through college admission pages and picking at leftover pepperoni pizza. Her tabby cat was curled up on a stack of viewbooks, getting orange cat hair all over the glossy campus photos. Halfway through matching my crew socks, she paused and said, “Mom, what’s even the point of university anyway? My friend Jake dropped out of high school, does landscaping with his uncle, makes $60k a year already. Why would I spend four years and tens of thousands of dollars to make less than that when I graduate?”
I almost spat out the automatic answer my parents gave me when I was her age: you need a degree to get a good job, to have options. But I stopped mid-sentence, because I’ve watched that answer fall flat for too many kids we know. Two years ago, my 19-year-old nephew Javi dropped out of state college after three semesters, majoring in business. He’d been installing solar panels on the side for his uncle’s company the summer before, and had a waiting list of clients before he even finished his first year. He told us he was wasting time and money sitting through lectures he didn’t care about, when he could be building his own client base. His mom, my sister, was hysterical. She thought he’d thrown his future away. We all tiptoed around the topic at family dinners for months.
Today, Javi works four days a week, clears $85k a year, and just put a down payment on a two-bedroom house 10 minutes from the beach. He told me last month he doesn’t regret a single choice. The only mistake he made was going that first year, he said, wasting $12k in scholarship money he could have put toward his own work truck. That story stuck with me, because it shattered the assumption I’d carried my whole adult life that university is the only path to a stable, good life.
But that doesn’t mean university is never worth it, either. I told Lila about our neighbor Sarah, who’s wanted to be a pediatric nurse since she was 10. She couldn’t do that job without a nursing degree from an accredited university. She graduated three years ago, makes great money, loves every shift, and says her degree was 100% worth the investment. For me, it was worth it too, even though I don’t use my sociology degree for anything specific in my job as an after-school program coordinator. I was a first-gen kid, grew up in a tiny rural town, and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I graduated high school. Living in a dorm, meeting people from all over the world, figuring out how to pay my own utility bill and argue with a roommate and still stay friends, that all taught me more than any textbook did. I found my current career by tagging along to a volunteer club with my roommate, something I never would have done if I’d stayed home working at the local grocery store.
Over the past few years of watching kids in Lila’s grade sort through their options, I’ve realized the biggest mistake we make as parents is talking about the point of university like it’s the same for everyone. It’s not a mandatory milestone that every kid has to check off right after high school, no matter what their goals are. The world is different now than it was when we were 18: skilled trades pay as well or better than many entry-level degree jobs, and dozens of popular careers don’t require a four-year degree anymore.
After Lila asked her question that Saturday, we didn’t argue or try to force a decision. We did three small, concrete things instead that any family can do when this question comes up. First, I asked her to write down three non-negotiable things she wants out of the next five years, no right or wrong answers. She wrote: make enough to travel once a year, work with animals most days, have at least one full day off every week to hike. That shifted the conversation from “what is the point of university in general” to “what is the point for you.”
Second, I told her to text the woman who runs the doggy day care she works at on weekends, and ask three specific questions: what’s the hardest part of your job, what education do you actually use every day, what would you do differently if you were 18 again. No casual coffee small talk, just direct questions that get real answers. Third, we mapped out the raw numbers for the main paths she’s considering on our kitchen whiteboard. We wrote down total tuition, housing, and expected entry-level salary for each option, so we weren’t just guessing about whether it’s a good investment. For example, a four-year animal science degree at the state school would cost around $60k total, with entry-level jobs starting around $38k a year. A two-year animal tech degree at the local community college is $10k total, and she can keep working part time at the day care while she studies.
Lila met with the day care owner last week. The owner told her she started out working full time, got her business license after two years of saving, and got her grooming certification part time three years later when she expanded, so she never took on any student debt. Lila’s leaning toward testing that path first, but she’s still not 100% sure. We haven’t locked in a final decision, and we don’t have to.
Last night, we talked about it again while we washed dinner dishes. Lila said it feels weird that everyone acts like not going to university straight after high school is some kind of failure. I agreed. The point of any step after high school is just to get what you want out of it, not to check a box someone else says you have to check. We still don’t have the final answer. Lila might decide after a year of working full time that she wants to go to university after all, or she might open her own day care in three years, or she might switch paths entirely. That’s okay. There’s no one right answer to what the point of university is. It’s only worth it if it gets you what you need.
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