What to Do with Old Class Notes?

I am not a pack rat. The periodic purge has never been a cause of angst for me. I prefer to travel light, and whether this is due to my upbringing in a military family or the byproduct of having my belongings strewn across barren acreage in the aftermath of a storm – “things” just don’t have a great hold on me. I keep that which has value to me, be it sentimental or useful for a future purpose, but it is no great trauma to let stuff go that meet neither of these criteria.

Virtuous words, maybe, but full of feigned vainglory. For I daresay that I must confess an area of weakness that undermines my claim: the archaic relics of my college education.

My remaining textbooks are non-negotiable. One, because they are “books”, and I don’t get rid of books. Two, each represents a not-insignificant financial investment, and the severely depreciated resale value limits the incentive. It does not matter that some have been unopened and unused in 25 years. It does not matter that a couple of them have faithfully served my needs as a makeshift monitor stand for the last 10 years. I’m keeping the books.

The problem, alas, are the binders and binders of class notes (queue Romney jokes here), spanning a variety of math and engineering courses, labs, and even those silly business and humanities courses they require to ensure each engineering student leaves the university with a “well-rounded” education. Most contain that wonderful, green-shaded engineering paper, now faded along with the mechanical pencil scratchings of a bygone era. I have notes for MH420, EE475, and EE530, containing countless complicated formulas I clearly used to know, but are nothing but mere hieroglyphics at this point. It is just further proof that I was once far smarter than I am now. I have copies of marked up homework and tests (thank goodness for scaled grades). Heh. A stray phone bill – I wonder if I ever paid that? Here’s a piece of paper with a phone number – a forgotten girl? No, probably just some dude wanting study help. A section of the school newspaper, announcing the resignation of Coach Dye – hm, I didn’t know I had kept that. Finally, a slip of paper with a small love note from the girl who remains my beloved bride to this day. That one brought a smile.

Flipping through these binders, a few have awakened memories. But with most, I find the dullness of a past so long forgotten that it seems alien, with words and scribbles that were seemingly produced by someone else entirely. It is kind of disconcerting. But enough. To the matter at hand: what value do these pages upon pages of Fourier transforms and differential equations hold? What value do these digital control and microelectronic circuit designs have for me at a time when I find myself doing less and less true engineering and more and more management of those who do? Am I ever going to do this stuff in real life again? Can I bear to toss them into the trash bin?

Ah, the mid-life naval gazing over decades-old class notes! No sense wasting any more of my time (or yours). The decision is made. I’m still an engineer, and the direction on my bias is set to “practical”. On with it, then.