Ah, lovely HBCUs (historically black colleges and universities) - those bastions of higher education that you love to love and love to hate. In my quest for knowledge of other countries and other cultures, I've come to understand that HBCU's and third-world countries are a lot alike. Don't get me wrong, I attended Florida A&M University (FAMU) and I LOVE my school, but there are things that make me thing HBCU's are the third-world countries in America. Remember those images of starving people in Ethiopia waiting patiently in long lines for food and water? Now, remember the line you stood in that wrapped around the building, spilled into the parking lot, and went into the adjoining neighborhood before you found out that your net check was half of what you thought it was going to be (and you needed to pay your rent, get some gas, and pay your phone bill that same day). If you can have a sit-down lunch at a nearby restaurant while STILL waiting in line, you got the third-world treatment HBCU-style.

Your office computer gets a virus and you need to do some work. You call the "IT people" and hearing singing and laughter in the background. As you try to explain the problem, they cut you off and say they'll have to call you back because they're in the middle of prayer meeting. They don't call back because they cut you off before you gave your information. You call back that afternoon. The person that deals with that problem is either in a meeting or at lunch and no one else in the office can handle it - even though they're the IT Department. Finally, said IT person shows up, takes your computer, and doesn't give you a replacement. A week passes, then two weeks, then a month, then another week - still no computer. You wonder if former President Bush's response time to Hurricana Katrina was faster than the time it takes you to get your computer back. Finally, after a month and a half of waiting, you get someone else's computer because your computer "couldn't be fixed." The work that you needed to get done has been forgotten by everyone - including the people that needed it done. Hmm, maybe that third-world HBCU treatment is a good thing.
Students, you need to talk to your advisor. Your advisor's office hours are MWF 9-10, 12:30-2. You have a class that ends at 12:15 so you can shoot on over and see your advisor. You show up at 12:30 on Wednesday. Your advisor is nowhere to be found. You wait for fifteen more minutes, then realize that it's Wednesday aka fried chicken day. You're the only butthole waiting to be advised and everyone else on campus is waiting in line to get some hot, fresh, fried chicken along with collard greeds, candied yams, and rice and gravy. Good thing they don't have watermelon on the buffet (yeah, I said it). The school would stop operating then, lol. You can't put getting an education or helping someone else get an education above eating some greasy-A fried chicken.

Finally, YOU GRADUATED! You're so glad to finally have your degree. You walk across the stage, shake hands and take a picture with the president. You can't wait to hang your degree on the wall. You know it'll be a while before you get your degree so you don't rush it. Six months later rolls around - still no degree. You're calling the school every day and being handed over to ten different departments every day - none of which knows anything about your degree. Finally, after a year of waiting, you receive your degree in the mail. It had actually been sent to an old address that your mom's first roommate used when she was in college and they misspelled your name too.

But even after all this, everything's okay because your professors cared about you. They called you at home and hounded you when you weren't doing well. They drilled learning into you and if you didn't get it, be prepared to show up on the weekend for some more education. Even after all this, you'd rather go to jail for aggravated assault than allow anyone to talk about your school. So, go ahead and wave your HBCU flag because you learned how to make a way out of noway, persistence, toughness, and grit. So, thank you, HBCUs for the third-world style treatment. When life gets rough, you taught us how to handle it and for that - I'll always appreciate my experiences.