In recent years, a distinct trend has emerged within the American education system. An increasing number of parents are opting to guide their children towards community colleges and trade schools, rather than traditional four-year universities. This transition is motivated by several key factors: affordability, immediate employability, and an ideological divergence from traditional academia.

I myself experienced this shift firsthand. When I left university several years ago, it was under strained circumstances. I felt disillusioned by my professors, who I believed had allowed their personal ideologies to tarnish the beauty of historical studies. Yet, upon leaving academia, I wasn’t cast adrift. A force was pulling me away, providing a direction amidst my disillusionment. I credit divine providence for the soft landing that I experienced in the form of a new passion: the world of gears, oil, and automobiles.

This transition from the theoretical world of academia to the hands-on environment of the automotive industry wasn’t a hasty flight prompted by my ideological differences at university. Instead, it was a deliberate, well-informed choice forged by my experiences and shaped by the sagacious advice of Old Jack. As I traverse the path of my life journey, I find myself increasingly convinced of the immense value and life-enriching potential offered by alternative educational routes such as trade schools and community colleges.

The preconceived notion that success hinges exclusively on a four-year university degree, deeply entrenched in our societal consciousness, is not only misleading but also potentially detrimental. It imposes an unnecessary burden on young individuals, many of whom feel compelled to pursue academic studies that might not align with their innate skills, passions, or career objectives. More distressingly, it can lead to a scenario where a significant segment of our youth graduates with hefty student loans and degrees that offer no surety of job prospects.

In contrast, trade schools and community colleges are structured to equip students with practical skills that lead directly to employment, often in sectors experiencing workforce shortages. These institutions focus on providing a tailored, industry-specific education that, while less glamorous than a university degree, is nonetheless valuable and potentially more rewarding in the long run. They offer a platform where theory meets practice, and knowledge is immediately applicable, thus fostering a more engaging and relevant learning experience.

In the face of a higher education system that increasingly funnels our children into a one-size-fits-all pathway, parents today are invited to challenge this narrative. The long-standing view that sees four-year universities as the only beacon of success needs to be reevaluated. Rather, we should foster a broader perspective, one that acknowledges the worth of a rich tapestry of educational paths. In guiding our children towards exploring a multitude of career options and nurturing their unique talents, we can empower them to shape their futures with thoughtful deliberation. This approach enables them to make choices about their education and vocation that are unhindered by societal pressures or misconceptions.

By shifting our perspective in this manner, the result may extend beyond the individual. It may not only engender a more fulfilled workforce but could also contribute to creating a more balanced society. Such a society would recognize the value of hands-on skills and practical knowledge on par with theoretical understanding. After all, success is not a one-dimensional construct. It is personal and subjective, and its true measure lies not in the prestige of a degree but in the fulfillment found in one’s chosen path.

Armed with this understanding, I took a bold step forward, guided by the belief that there was a place for me in the world beyond the confines of traditional academia. Within six months of stepping away from the university, I had made my decision. I would invest my savings in an entirely new direction, diving into the world of trade school. The thought was daunting. I was leaving behind a world filled with history books and academic papers, stepping instead into a realm that was entirely unfamiliar to me. Yet, I recognized that to stagnate was not an option. I needed to embrace this new path, no matter how intimidating it seemed, to find my place in the world.

With this decision made, I found myself enrolled in Sinclair College. Nestled in Dayton, Ohio, this community college was well-regarded for its robust automotive program. I purchased my books, assembled a modest toolkit, and awaited the first day of classes with a combination of excitement and trepidation. Doubts gnawed at me: I was a history aficionado, after all. What did I know about the intricacies of cars and engines? Would I find myself equipped to tackle this hands-on, technical field? What if, in my quest for a new beginning, I had instead set myself up for failure?

“It’s either fixed or it isn’t.”

As doubts and questions swirled like a whirlwind in my mind, I found myself stepping into Jack Lukacs’s classroom and the unfamiliar world it represented. Amid my anxiety, there was a potent undercurrent of exhilaration. The thrill of venturing onto an uncharted path, which held the promise of a new beginning, was undeniable. This world might have seemed alien to me at first, but I was eager to traverse its terrain and explore the potential it offered for a fresh start.

The gatekeeper to this new universe was none other than Lukacs himself. Merely two days into the program, he pulled me aside. Lukacs was an unabashedly direct man, one who had no use for circumlocution. His query, as blunt as a blacksmith’s hammer, took me by surprise. “What the hell are you doing in here, kid?” He challenged me.

Taken aback, I stammered out the rehearsed response that I had been repeating to myself and anyone who asked: I was attempting to transition into a new career, and I thought this path might play to my strengths. The explanation wasn’t the most compelling, but it was all I had at that moment.

His reaction was a chuckle and a knowing smile, “No, kid, why are you in this program? You should be at a four-year college. You’ve read the entire textbook for the class – no one here does that.”

It was at this point that I opened up about my past. I shared my growing disenchantment with the four-year university system, my frustration with professors who seemed more intent on promoting their agendas than on imparting knowledge, and my ultimate decision to walk away from it all. Throughout my revelation, Lukacs remained silent, attentively absorbing my narrative with a thoughtful patience that was both surprising and reassuring.

After a moment, he nodded and simply said, “Well, alright then, come on.” He motioned for me to follow him, leading the way into an empty classroom. In silence, he picked up a rag and began to clean off a whiteboard.

“Sit down, kid. If you’re going to do this for real,” he said, gesturing at the chair across from him, “there are things you need to understand.” A sense of earnest gravity was embedded in his voice, and it gave me pause. I nodded and took a seat, curious but also uncertain about what was to come.

Wordlessly, he picked up a marker and started to draw on the now clean whiteboard. As I watched, he traced out an elaborate network of lines, loops, and squiggles, shaping them into wiring diagrams and circuit systems unlike any I’d seen before. The room was silent except for the soft scratch of marker on board and the occasional clink of the cap against the table.

Before I knew it, the whiteboard was filled from corner to corner with components and symbols, each one alien and fascinating. Once he finished, Lukacs finally broke the silence. He turned to face me, a certain intensity in his gaze as he said, “Alright, kid. You have the mind for this. If you’re really going to making a living in this field, you need to understand how to diagnose electrical issues in cars. This,” he gestured at the whiteboard, “is the future of all automotive work. If you can do this, you’ll always put food on your table.”

Lukacs, his fingers stained with the ink of the marker, started to dissect the complex web of wires and symbols. He queried me about the circuit’s operation, gently correcting my mistakes, painstakingly explaining the mathematical theories underpinning the unseen components. I learned about the nuances of resistance, the ins and outs of voltage drop, and the strategies for identifying ‘bugs’ in shared systems.

The echoes of our conversation resonated within the classroom walls for hours. As I absorbed an insightful lesson, my mind was abuzz with the thrill of newly acquired knowledge and comprehension. Surrounded by dry-erase markers and intricate diagrams, it dawned on me only later that the learning I had achieved in those few hours far surpassed what I gathered from the succeeding months of the automotive program. This was particularly true for my understanding of electrical systems.

Once Lukacs was convinced I had grasped the theoretical aspects and could answer his detailed questions, he leaned back in his chair and gave me a final piece of advice.

“Listen, kid,” he said, fixing me with a penetrating stare, “The most important thing for you in this field is to shut up and listen. Pay attention to the guys who’ve done this work for their entire lives. Even if they seem as dumb as a post, they might have something to teach you. So, listen to them.”

Sinclair College and I parted ways on a high note, as I sailed through all my classes with remarkable grades. On my final day, I sought out Jack Lukacs to extend my heartfelt gratitude. Jack, ever the humble teacher, dismissed my thanks with a shake of his head.

“I’m just a blip on the radar of your life, kid,” he said, eyes twinkling with quiet pride. “You won’t remember an old man like me, but I know you’ll do well. Good luck.”

Several years have slipped by since that farewell conversation with Jack, the man who laid the foundation for my successful career. True to his advice, I started at the bottom, surrounded by seasoned mechanics who had forgotten more about cars than I would ever learn. And I listened. I absorbed their wisdom, learned from their experiences, and grew from their teachings.

Now, I’m well-established in my community as a trusted mechanic, operating out of one of the top-rated independent shops in the city. I work alongside a team brimming with talent, their knowledge and skills continuing to push me to grow and thrive in my career. The old man was right – I did well, and I continue to do so. All because I listened.

An unforeseen consequence of heeding Old Jack’s counsel was my immersion into the unique universe inhabited by these masters of gears and oil. Many mechanics have inherited their profession, the trade passing down from generation to generation like a cherished family heirloom. They are among the hardest working, most sincere people in America.

When I landed my first job at a local AAMCO, I was a novice, a book-smart beginner in a field where real-world experience was king. The seasoned veterans who took me under their wing were relentless. They didn’t let a single error slide, correcting my mistakes with unvarnished critique.

However, it didn’t take long for me to recognize a pattern. The automotive world was not one for the faint-hearted; it was a realm of resilient men carrying out strenuous work. They spoke in an unfiltered language of raw honesty, and they worked with an intensity that was almost fierce. This was the unforgiving, yet rewarding world I had stepped into, and I was ready to learn from the best.

As I grew accustomed to this hardworking world, I found my former concerns gradually dissolving. The freedom to express myself without fear of causing offense, the liberty to laugh at jokes, the straightforward conversations – these were everyday aspects of life at the AAMCO that felt like a breath of fresh air. We were a unit, a work-family united by a strong bond of camaraderie, far surpassing anything I’d previously experienced. This sense of unity wasn’t merely due to the jovial banter that bounced around the shop; it stemmed from our shared identity as free men, diligently performing our roles.

Our world was devoid of heated debates about gender theory or the moral integrity of our founding fathers. We didn’t let our identities dictate our political beliefs. We were just men, united by our passion for our work and love for our country. The strains of classic rock provided the soundtrack to our labor, day in and day out. On the Fourth of July, we would gather to set off fireworks and revel in our shared patriotism. We were the embodiment of the proud, working Americans that Old Jack had urged me to learn from.

Reflecting on the many ways in which my life has been enriched by these hard-working men has recently led me to a troubling realization. Throughout my youth, I was never once presented with the chance to work alongside such individuals. Indeed, the idea of following in their footsteps was not just overlooked but actively discouraged. From a tender age, we are relentlessly drilled with the mantra: Graduate high school, go to college, or consign yourself to a life devoid of success.

But is this statement steeped in truth? I would argue, vehemently, that it’s not. It’s a skewed perspective, one that perpetuates a damaging stereotype about the working class, about the honest, hard-working Americans of today. It paints a picture of mechanics as unscrupulous tricksters, looking to swindle unsuspecting customers. This has been far removed from my experience. The men I’ve worked with are some of the brightest, most honorable people I’ve ever known. Yet, because their path didn’t involve spending four years under the tutelage of university professors, society is quick to brand them – even a man as knowledgeable and wise as Old Jack – as uneducated.

As universities further succumb to the ideologies that initially drove me away – ideologies that have only amplified with time – parents may wish to reconsider their stance on their children’s education. Instead of priming them for college from early adolescence, perhaps the more critical question to ask is: What do they wish to pursue as a livelihood?

There’s an abundance of programs at community colleges capable of propelling students directly into the workforce almost as soon as their courses are complete. An intriguing distinction emerges when comparing the curriculum of these programs to those offered at many four-year universities. The latter often integrates Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) courses into their standard curricula, while community colleges and trade schools tend to focus on developing specific vocational skills, typically lacking such courses. This disparity is a subject of ongoing debate. I argue that, instead of fostering inclusivity, DEI courses incite divisions among students and stir unnecessary conflict. An excessive focus on ideological distinctions detracts from preparing students for the realities of life post-college, shifting their attention away from acquiring practical skills and understanding the dynamics of their future careers.

Looking back on my peers who remained at the university, their paths have diverged significantly from mine. Many are still grappling with the transition from academic life to the professional world, despite the years that have elapsed since they graduated with their four-year degrees. In contrast, I managed to secure an entry-level position within six months of beginning my trade school classes and was fully integrated into my new career within a year.

The financial disparity between my journey and theirs is stark. My community college courses cost me less than $2,000 in total, a sum that wouldn’t even cover a semester’s worth of room and board at my previous university. Yet the cost isn’t the only factor to consider. The landscape of the job market tells a story of unmet demand and untapped potential.

Consider the automotive industry, for instance. A recent report by TechForce estimates that by 2026, there will be a shortage of nearly one million technicians across all fields. Moreover, this deficit is projected to grow with each passing year. This shortfall represents a vast expanse of opportunity for those willing to gain the skills required in the trade industries.

For students who embark on their careers early, the advantage is twofold. Not only will they benefit from the increasing demand for their skills, but they will also be able to capitalize on the upward trend in wages. The scarcity of skilled workers in these fields promises to be a significant economic driver in the years to come.

The practical benefits of a trade or community college education are undeniable – from significant cost savings to favorable job market conditions. However, the advantages extend beyond the realm of the tangible and the economic. Parents should consider these alternative paths for their children due to a reason that carries far more profound implications. This reason is deeply rooted in the principles and values that mentors like Jack inculcate.

Jack’s teachings, which significantly influenced my time in trade school, had a ripple effect that permeated my life beyond the realm of professional success. His mantra that “It’s either fixed, or it isn’t” resonates deeply, emphasizing the importance of results and accountability, not just in the world of auto repair, but in life itself.

Community colleges, like the one where I studied under Jack, cut through the noise of the modern education system’s ideological debates. They prioritize placing students directly into the workforce, arming them with the essential skills and knowledge to thrive in their chosen field.

As a result, the curriculum is devoid of the ideological conflicts that one often encounters in four-year universities. This provides a stark contrast to many higher education programs that often get entangled in socio-political discussions, distracting from the practicalities of preparing for a profession. Instead, trade and community colleges keep a laser-like focus on the task at hand, that is, preparing students to excel in their chosen field.

In my case, this enabled me to build a successful career as a mechanic, but the lessons I learned had a broader application, shaping my perspective, and providing me with a pragmatic and results-oriented approach to problem-solving.

The educational landscape today is teeming with ideological debates and theoretical discussions that, although significant in their own right, can overshadow the practical skills required for a successful career. In this context, the straightforward, results-driven ethos of trade schools and community colleges offers a refreshing alternative. They prioritize equipping students with skills that directly translate into workplace success. I believe this under-appreciated advantage is a compelling reason for parents to consider these alternative educational paths for their children.

Contrary to what I was told in high school, it wasn’t a traditional degree that paved the way for my success. Instead, it was the hands-on skills and valuable life lessons I picked up from my trade school education, mentors like Jack, and the men of AAMCO. These have not only enabled me to build a successful career but have also had a profound impact on my personal life. Today, I am not just a successful mechanic but also a dedicated husband, a homeowner, and a loving father.

Looking back, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the advice and mentorship of Jack Lukacs. I decided to reach out to him, hoping to share my progress and extend my heartfelt thanks. Sadly, I discovered that Jack had passed away a year after his retirement, at only 63 years old. It saddened me to learn that the man who had imparted so much wisdom and looked forward to his retirement didn’t get to enjoy it for long.

Despite our brief interaction, Jack’s teachings left an indelible impact on me. He may have believed I would forget him, but he was wrong about that. I continue to cherish his wisdom and carry his teachings with me in both my professional and personal life.

So, to parents deliberating over their children’s educational path, I encourage you to consider trade schools and community colleges. These institutions provide not just a platform for building a successful career but also offer transformative life lessons through mentors like Jack. This invaluable combination of practical skills and character-building lessons can set your child on the path to a fulfilling life, far beyond the confines of a traditional degree.

In Memory of, Jack A. Lukacs 1956-2019