Minneapolis Star-Tribune op-ed: Law School Fundraising: What Have You Ever Done For Me?, by Robert G. Larson III (J.D. 2010, William Mitchell (now Mitchell Hamline)):
To my greedy law school:
No. Stop asking. I’m not going to give you any money. Ever. So you can stop sending those fundraising letters every few months, begging for more of my hard-earned cash.
I’m not blaming you for the collapse of the legal job market. ... I’m blaming you because you lied to us. You reported employment statistics — even back in 2007, when things were decidedly rosier — that led prospective students to believe that a huge portion of your graduates walked out of your hallowed halls and right into lucrative associate positions at fancy law firms. The reality, as we now know, is that you were counting everyone with any kind of job at all — from the guy working just a few hours per week at the 7-Eleven to the girl who took your perennial temporary position in the student affairs office — as employed, for the purposes of bragging about postgraduation employment. ...
I truly, deeply regret attending law school. Full of youthful optimism, I tried to better my life through education, and was slapped down hard. Despite assurances to the contrary, the things I learned haven’t helped me in the slightest. ...
Going to law school has irreparably damaged my career. It took years to slog through law school, wallow in unemployment, find an employer who would take a chance on a guy branded with those scarlet letters — J.D. — and finally make my way back into my undergraduate field. Years that I should have spent gathering expertise and accomplishments, contributing to a 401(k) and building my professional network.
But worst of all is the debt. We’re not talking the paltry $25,000 that the average undergrad is saddled with nowadays. We’re talking $100,000 or more — $170,000, in my case, despite a 50 percent scholarship that seemed generous at the time. That level of debt demands a monthly payment that’s twice what my mortgage is. That’s money that I could be using to provide for my retirement. For my kids’ college. For any of the myriad expenses that life throws at you. But instead, I’m shouldering the crushing weight of astronomical student debt, stuck in debt slavery, the penalty for thinking that maybe, just maybe, education was the ticket to an elite career.
It feels like a grave insult every time you request a donation. At every turn, you’ve done me a disservice. You’ve taken so much from me, and given precious little. My life is worse for having known you. I have paid and will continue to pay for that mistake. But you don’t care; you’re just a bloated glutton, constantly demanding more.
So, in light of that, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say, “Go to hell, you parasite.”