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My Back to College Narrative
"A Back-to-School Story"
After having pushed me for years to go back to college, my Taekwondo instructor Master Tesdal was thrilled when I told him that I had enrolled at Western Oregon University.
I was horrified. My marriage of twenty years had collapsed in on itself like a sand castle melting in the rain, and I had no marketable skills, no job, no income. I had been barely more than a housewife since high school. My sister, who has a PhD in Veterinary Medicine, laid my choices in front of me: get a job at McDonald's, or go back to school. “Once you start trying to support yourself with a minimum wage job, you'll never have time to even think about building a better life,” she said. And I knew she was right. She showed me how to fill out a FAFSA online, and I started looking for colleges that weren't too far from my children, who had no desire to leave their school district.
I'd tried college once, straight out of high school. I hated it. I suffered serious culture shock going from the small town, under-the-microscope life I was raised in to life in the big city. Portland State University seemed like an alien planet. One day, I stood beside a man in a wheelchair for several minutes waiting for an elevator. People began to gather behind us. Abruptly, the doors opened, and we found ourselves shoved out of the way as hordes pushed past us and the doors closed in our faces. I looked down at the man beside me thinking, “I can take the stairs, but what's he supposed to do?” I couldn't believe how self-focused people were. Another problem I had was that in my efforts to find places to study alone, I drew lurking perverts. I remember one man shouting after me in a broken hearted voice as I fled for the bus stop, “I'm sorry!” Many people thrive in the big city-- I did not. I was glad to drop out after only two years. For the following eighteen years, I played housewife, raised two kids, sewed, drew, painted, wrote books, started Taekwondo; I filled my life with things that would keep me from thinking about the fact that I was hiding from the world.
Now I was rearranging my life. There were no schools within driving distance for a day trip, so I had to surrender that idea. I went with my second criteria: that the campus be small and friendly. I chose WOU. From the first time I walked onto the campus, I knew it felt right. People smiled at me, said hello, and held doors for each other. The next step was finding somewhere to live. A loan from my mother made it possible for me to rent my first apartment until financial aid kicked in. I left my children, aged 18 and 14 at the time, my dog, my home, and nearly all my belongings, and I moved to Rickreall. As I prepared to become a college student again, I kept up with Taekwondo. It was my anchor.
Grandmaster Kim, the head of our Taekwondo schools, has a favorite ritual in which he reminds everyone at promotion tests and tournaments of the value of a good education. Any student enrolled in school from kindergarten through college with a 3.0 grade point average or higher receives a certificate of achievement. To underscore how important it is to achieve the highest possible grades, Grandmaster Kim orders, “All students stand up,” and everyone who is an enrolled student, no matter what age, must stand up and face him. When he called out the order, my instructor Master Tesdal knew that I was registered at WOU and practically shoved me to my feet. Reluctantly I stood up, face flaming, to join the grade school kids around me. “Repeat after me,” Master Kim intoned, “I will do my best to get straight A's.” I rolled my eyes, horrified, and repeated the words in a mumble. The kids beside me seemed just as embarrassed, and we all sat down with relief.
I was 38. Far, far too old (I thought) to hope for more than passing grades at college. My brain had lost too many cells over the years, and it had just been too many decades since I had done any formal study. I didn't believe in the oath I gave Grandmaster Kim, but I decided to at least try.
The first day of class, I drove onto campus shaking with nerves. A song came on the radio: “In a little while” by Uncle Kraker. I can't explain it, but it felt like a message. Some of the lyrics go, “Sometimes I feel like something is gone here/ Something is wrong here/ I don't belong here,” but then the tone turns, and the song becomes very upbeat. I tried to relax. But to add to my discomfort, I noticed right away that most of the students in my classes looked no older than eighteen. In fact, I found out later that WOU has one of the youngest student bodies in the state: more than 75% of it's students are under the age of 25. I was old enough to be the mother of most of my classmates.
I ignored these doubts and pushed myself to focus on my classes. Noticing that most of the other students often reacted to a teacher's question with painful, wide-eyed silence, I made a conscious decision to take advantage of my advanced age and began raising my hand more often. Often, the younger students would begin to relax when they saw me interacting with the teacher without too much humiliation, and they began participating as well. The professors were often my age (sometimes younger), and I found it easy to talk to them.
When I checked grades at the end of the first term, my hands were shaking, and I felt nauseous. To my shock, I had straight A's. It pays to have a passion for your classes, apparently. I realized then that I could never have appreciated college when I was younger: I just wasn't ready emotionally at that time. But I was ready now. I loved my classes, loved being there, loved hauling gear in a backpack and being part of the ebb and flow of university life. I loved being a student and actually enjoyed studying. I started seeing A's as goals to be fought for.
Going back to school, living on my own for the first time... these are not all memories I cherish, and it was not the best of times-- I was alone and missed my family. But I don't regret my choice. For the first time in my life, I am following the path I was meant to. I have a career. Years ago when my marriage ended, no one wanted to hire me; I had no useful skills. It feels unbelievably good to be wanted, to do an interview and be asked immediately to sign on. And I'm so grateful for the teachers who pushed me to join the world and discover my potential.
As I drove off WOU's campus for the last time, a college graduate, that same song came on the radio that had played as I drove onto campus that first day: “Some things are lost, some left behind/ Some things are better left for someone else to find...” When one door closes... the future comes knocking.
carotha |
Latest page update: made by carotha
, Oct 30 2009, 8:51 PM EDT
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