The energizer: Grad
keeps busy while waiting for opportunities
Rhoda Fukushima / Knight Ridder
Newspapers (KRT)
Tola Oyewole plops down on her friend's sofa. Up since 6
a.m., it has been a long day, with work, errands and
meetings. Now, it's 8 p.m. One more meeting to go.
Tonight is the first planning session for an event Oyewole
and her friends hope to stage next summer. They're
calling it the "Endangered Species" conference, a
tongue-in-cheek reference to their target audience: young
African-American males. Their goal is to break down
stereotypes and offer positive role models.
This meeting is the beginning of what Oyewole knows will be a
huge commitment of time and energy. But that's what she
thrives on: setting goals, getting things done and moving
forward.
After graduating from the University of Minnesota in May, she
found herself at loose ends since she didn't have a
full-time job and was no longer a student. She still keeps
some ties to college through her sorority, boyfriend and
other friends, and she hopes to start graduate school next
month. Meanwhile, she's always looking for jobs in her
chosen field, marketing. She's ready to pounce if
something good comes her way.
"I like being where things are happening," she
says. "I like action."
After graduation, Oyewole looked forward to taking the fall
semester off.
"This is just time for me to relax," she said in
August.
That's not exactly what happened. Fall semester started
and her friends returned to campus. She missed the structure
school gave to her life. She missed classes.
"That's all I've known for the last 20
years," she said in October.
Oyewole relishes being busy, so this was new territory. She
still had her church activities and internship at KMOJ Radio,
but she found herself with too much free time.
"I was getting on everybody's nerves," she
says.
She complained about being bored to her boyfriend and his
best friend. They told her to relax and enjoy the break.
Initially, she thought they were talking nonsense. Finally,
something clicked, and she chilled out.
"I just had to get in the mindset," she says.
"I didn't have to go 100 miles an hour, it's OK
to go 50."
A month after school started, Oyewole found a new groove.
She was promoted to a full-time position at Dunwoody, where
she coordinates a program aimed at getting high school kids
interested in technical careers. That job keeps her busy.
Recently, she picked up seven students from school for a
pizza lunch meeting with Big Brothers/Big Sisters. She enjoys
the work, but over the years, the excitement has worn off.
She's looking for fresh challenges.
"I'm still looking for something that will feed my
mind," she says. "If something better comes my way,
I'm going to take it."
Oyewole keeps her eyes open for marketing jobs, but she draws
the line at customer service, which she hates. She wants to
do projects, have deadlines, give presentations. Friends and
family e-mail her job leads.
Two friends landed marketing jobs paying $37,000 and $48,000.
She knows a new college graduate won't pull down
"six figures," but she wouldn't mind starting
in the high $30Ks or low $40Ks.
Recently, she went to a job fair at Medtronic Inc. She says
her biggest obstacle is lack of experience.
"You're competing with people who used to be vice
presidents of corporations," she says.
Oyewole is undaunted and keeps moving on.
She should be hearing soon whether she got into graduate
school at Hamline University. She plans to study business
management, with an eye toward running her own business
someday. The program costs about $10,000 a year and will take
18 months to two years. She wants to be done in 18 months.
She doesn't want to take out any more loans for school.
Rather, she's going to work, use her savings and, when
necessary, ask her family for help. Oyewole purposely chose a
smaller school.
"At the U, you have to work hard for your teachers to
know you. If you don't, they won't," she says.
"At Hamline, it's so small the teachers are forced
to know you. I wanted a place to get to my teachers pretty
easily."
She didn't apply anywhere else.
One recent Friday night, Oyewole is in one of the empty
conference rooms at Coffman Union on the U campus. She's
dressed in a brown sweater, black coat, slacks, shoes. She
carries a folder filled with handouts.
She's conducting a grant-writing seminar for her sisters
in the Delta Sigma Theta sorority. The chapter may want to
apply for grants to fund its annual Mr. Crimson and Cream
event.
"Grant writing is really technical," Oyewole says.
"One little mistake and they throw it out."
She explains how to apply for a Minnesota common grant. She
describes each part of the application. She explains the
types of grants available and which ones get the most money
in the fastest time.
Oyewole encourages her audience to ask questions. She
suggests they write the grant application together.
"It always helps to have an extra pair of eyes,"
she says.
After the seminar, Oyewole and her friends chat about weekend
plans. One is writing a paper. Two, including Oyewole, are
going to the Alpha Ball the next night. Weather forecasts are
for snow. Talk turns to outerwear: fashion or function?
"Pneumonia? Down coat?" Oyewole says.
"Pneumonia? Down coat?"
It's the party before the party. Oyewole and seven
friends cram into her studio apartment in Minneapolis. The
clock on the wall says 7 o'clock, but it's really
only 6 (she hasn't changed it back from daylight-saving
time yet).
It's the night of the Alpha Ball, a fund-raiser for the
Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity at the U. Oyewole's boyfriend,
Reuben Thompson-Amarteifio, is a member.
The pre-ball makeup session is an annual event. One by one,
they sit on the edge of Oyewole's bed as she shapes
eyebrows, dabs on moisturizer and applies eyeliner, eye
shadow, mascara and lip color. She uses everything from MAC
to Maybelline.
She asks them if they like the "natural look." She
inquires about the color of their dresses. She requests
silence when she applies eyeliner to Courtney Allen.
"Nobody talk to me," she says. "Otherwise,
I'm going to make Courtney look like a clown."
Oyewole steps back to admire her handiwork; Allen does not
look like Bozo.
Halfway through the makeup session, Thompson-Amarteifio
arrives, suit in hand. After a quick "hello," he
ducks into the bathroom to change.
Oyewole continues her work. One by one, her girlfriends leave
the apartment. She reminds them not to speed.
"This is typical Tola," says Juanita Lewis, a
friend since freshman year. "I'm amazed at how much
she gets done in a 24-hour period."
At 7:30 p.m., it's Oyewole's turn to get ready. She
quickly does her makeup. She slips on a long black dress with
spaghetti straps, an $80 find at J.C. Penney.
Once Oyewole gets to the ball, she says she's on
"vacation." That means no makeup retouches for
friends. She thinks of herself as their "big
sister" rather than their "mother."
Her boyfriend suggests otherwise.
"Mom," he whispers, just out of earshot.
Oyewole spritzes on La Coste perfume and grabs some Laffy
Taffy, her favorite candy. They head out the door.
She's wearing a black dress coat.
For once, Oyewole is a helper, not the head honcho.
Wokie Daboh recruited Oyewole and four friends who share the
vision for the Endangered Species conference. They want to
reach African-American males in junior and senior high
school. Oyewole will help with marketing.
"I'm just one of the soldiers in the army,"
Oyewole says.
Tonight, they want to get the "important stuff"
down: the who, what, where, when and why. Daboh and Jerold
Wells report that they've met with an officer of the
local NAACP. Getting that support will be crucial in
establishing credibility with the kids.
"We want to show young black men that they can grow up
to be successful black men," Wells says.
"There's nothing wrong with rappers and athletes,
but let's get some doctors, lawyers, managers."
They'd like to invite boys from the Twin Cities, Detroit,
Chicago and Milwaukee. They want some big-name entertainment
like P. Diddy, Russell Simmons or Jay-Z. They want to tap
local community leaders for help. They discuss potential
topics like sexual awareness, gangs, educational choices,
careers, self-esteem, relationships/respect for women,
fatherhood. They talk numbers of attendees: 200? 500? 1,000?
When they discuss fund-raising, Oyewole's grant-writing
skills kick in.
"We have to be so ready to answer every question,"
she says. "If there's anything shady with it, there
are a hundred organizations who want the money. You're in
competition."
At one point, the group gets bogged down in details, like
fees, transportation, daily schedules, staffing. Ever the
planner and organizer, she starts nudging them back on track.
"We need to be thinking about the big picture," she
says. "We need to find out what we can do and what we
can't do."
Then, they start planning their next meeting.
___
ABOUT THE SERIES:
Over the next year, the Knight Ridder Newspapers will track
four college graduates from Minnesota schools as they start
to make their way in the world. They're already finding
that it's tough out there – jobs are scarce,
apartments are expensive, and Mom and Dad aren't around
to help. This is the third installment in the series
chronicling the graduates' struggles and successes.
See an archive of this series and a slide show of photos at
www.twincities.com. Click on Special Reports for a link to
the package.
___
© 2003, Saint Paul Pioneer Press (St. Paul, Minn.).
Visit the World Wide Web site of the Pioneer Press at
http://www.twincities.com/mld/pioneerpress/
Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.
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