A Non-Traditional Student
Going back to college at 45.
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Okay, so I admit, it was kind of a rash decision, but there I was at work one day and suddenly it all made sense.
If I didn’t finally finish this degree, I would be working a series of dead-end, low-paying jobs like the one I was sitting at, and I’d be struggling with discipline for the rest of my life.
This is not to say that a bachelor’s degree guarantees you anything better than a series of dead-end, low-paying jobs like the one I’m sitting at, nor that a person won’t struggle with discipline for the rest of their life, but…
There are some skills I’d probably do well to have someone else teach me at this point, sure, though another part of the reason for going back to school is to actually find out what those are. If anyone has tips on how to sit in a chair for hours on end without dying of boredom, that would be one of them.
Also, I’d love to hear a real reason why an English major might need calculus.
So, since I’ve got at least a year and a half of mind-numbing “college” courses to waste time on before I actually get to the actual marrow of my intended field, I filled out an application for the local commuter college, where slogging my way through this won’t break my bank. Smith this is not — I was accepted within the hour. Take my money!
I’ve been reading and writing for a good four decades now, and despite the fact that I’ve a better grasp on the English language than one of my PhD-holding clients, I can’t actually teach English to others without this otherwise useless and overpriced piece of paper. I can’t be a substitute teacher. And a majority of the low-paying, dead-end jobs that are pretty much beneath me anyway? They still want to see a bachelor’s degree first. Lest you think I’m doing this begrudgingly, however, you must know, I’m actually fairly excited. Something about textbooks gives me goosebumps. Always has.
So, yesterday I dug up high school transcripts from 1991, and then I dug up the college transcripts from the same year. They’re the only transcripts I have, because I started college (journalism at UGA) and it sucked so bad I dropped out after six months — New York was calling, anyway, with a big fat salary and a really cushy job putting the internet together. I’d make in a year what my entire education would cost, and that was before the fat raises and crazy startup cash started happening.
I sent them over to our local community college, and then I filled out all that financial aid stuff, and I’m sure they were like “holy shit how does this woman live” — and more than likely, these first two years will be fairly paid for because I look broke as fuck thanks to a mostly debt-free life of very simple living (it absolutely has its perks).
And the rest? Well, I did a ton of scholarship research today.
They all want essays.
Um, sure thing. That I can do.
Dori Mondon-Freeman lives with her musician wife, daughter, two rescue dogs and a rescue cat in a rambling old house at the foot of a 14,178 foot mountain in far northern California. Writes for food, welcomes intelligent discourse.
