College 30 Years Later

This post, too, is inspired by the young man entering University of Minnesota as mentioned in the previous post.

When I decided to go to college some thirty years after high school, family and friends reacted in a variety of ways. Some were very supportive, some carefully avoided comment, and some were openly amused. One even suggested that I may not have time to earn a degree before retirement!

I tried to play it casual, tried giving people the impression that this was no big deal, but it was, in fact, a very big deal to me, on a par with going to the dreaded high school.

Let me share some items from my journals. Here are some excerpts from entries near the beginning of my first quarter:

My first visit to the college was to the financial aid office to check on the costs and the various methods for paying for a venture into higher education. On that and subsequent visits to that office, I felt uncomfortable, but I could pass myself off as a visitor in the corridors, so it wasn't too bad.

Then came the day of assessment tests. Now there was no way I could pretend I was just a visitor. This was a test day, indeed, and the assessments weren't the only tests to face; I had to begin admitting I was a student.

I began worrying about the ordeal forty miles before reaching the school. It was tempting to just drop the idea. I think even my car was hesitant about it, because it didn't travel as fast as usual. But I summoned up some courage and speed and arrived with time to spare.

I decided I would do this thing and it wouldn't be too bad. I refused to think ahead to the beginning of classes. I would concentrate on how great it would be to complete my education. Somehow I would endure.

The first day of classes approached; this would be another real test! It was also the first day of a new job. Although my new employers knew I was going to school, one full day on the job was strongly encouraged. I was willing; I could put off the first day of class. Yes, I was very willing!

But there had to be a first day sometime, so the next day at the appointed time, I tripped off to class, albeit with a great deal of trepidation. As I walked through the corridors carrying books and supplies, I hoped everyone would assume I was faculty (in a matter of weeks I had promoted myself from mere visitor to faculty!).

Hoards of young people were passing through those corridors. They all seemed familiar with the layout of rooms, the routine, and one another. (Did I mention that I always seem to be the only one who doesn't know these things?) How do people know these things?

Arriving at my first classroom, I felt uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice me and my advanced age. They ignored me. When the class began, I directed my thoughts to it.

Later in the journal:

I am amazed. The students either talk to me or ignore me -- either way they make no big deal of it. I guess I had expected the young people to be openly disparaging; I don't know why.

Because I did not expect to enjoy this experience, I had decided to grit my teeth and just endure. Though I still experience some discomfort, I am beginning to feel more at ease and am enjoying my classes.

Near the end of my first quarter:

As I was perusing the new schedule, I realized I am beginning to feel comfortable in the role of student. I guess I had resigned myself to feeling strange and uncomfortable for the duration, but I enjoy the courses and am gaining much from this experience. After all, the pursuit of knowledge should be a life-long project and not the exclusive prerogative of youth.

I'm excited about the next quarter. I do, however, sort of hate to see this quarter end.

So, young man beginning at U of M, if an old person can adjust in just one quarter, you, being young and probably mysteriously knowing all the rooms, routines, and other students, will settle in very quickly. You'll do great!