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!
Showing posts with label U of M. Show all posts
Showing posts with label U of M. Show all posts
Saturday, September 11, 2010
School begins anew
The school year has begun and I know a young man who is beginning his first quarter at U of M. I'm sure it has been a less-than-comfortable week for him. Brings to mind some of my school experiences.
I can still remember my first year of school (yeah, I CAN remember that far back!). We lived in a remote part of northern Minnesota on a farm and seldom went to town. We didn't see friends, relatives, or neighbors much, either. In other words, I was an isolated little 'fraidy cat when it came to meeting people (brave about hanging in the uppermost branches of trees, though).
We did not have pre-school or kindergarten but were plopped right into first grade. I had the advantage, though, of an older brother attending the same elementary school as I. He was in a different room, but rode the same bus with me, and it was a comfort to know he was in the same building.
Before I started school, my older brother missed the better part of a year due to a severe illness. During that time, he was home schooled by my mom while I hung over her shoulder. I learned a lot, including how to read. So although socially I was far from ready for school, academically I was more than ready and anxious to learn more.
I survived the shock of my first days at school and predictably loved the exciting new world of playmates and classmates and regimented learning. Each summer was a great break, but I was ready to return to school long before the next term began.
Until . . . high school!
For high school I was even less prepared. My little three-room grade school ran out of grades after eighth, then we were bussed to a consolidated high school. Okay, I'll concede the high school wasn't very large, but after a three-room school and an eight-person class, that place seemed immense!
And as it always happens with me, everyone else seemed to know all the other people, where things were, and what was expected. I knew none of it! I was terrified! I was lost. I was alone.
Unlike grade school, adjusting to high school took a long time. But I survived and finally did become comfortable with it. I suffered only one discernible lingering effect - for at least twenty years after graduating, I wandered the halls and corridors of that frighteningly large school in my dreams desperately hunting for my locker!
Well, back to the young man at U of M. The University truly is a very large school, but he is so much more prepared for the transition. He has attended large schools all of his life and previously has made successful transitions between schools. He's very talented academically and has experience with college courses. He's braver and socially more adept than I'll ever be. Although he may become lost or disoriented at first, I doubt he'll spend the next twenty years wandering around that school in his dreams.
I can still remember my first year of school (yeah, I CAN remember that far back!). We lived in a remote part of northern Minnesota on a farm and seldom went to town. We didn't see friends, relatives, or neighbors much, either. In other words, I was an isolated little 'fraidy cat when it came to meeting people (brave about hanging in the uppermost branches of trees, though).
We did not have pre-school or kindergarten but were plopped right into first grade. I had the advantage, though, of an older brother attending the same elementary school as I. He was in a different room, but rode the same bus with me, and it was a comfort to know he was in the same building.
Before I started school, my older brother missed the better part of a year due to a severe illness. During that time, he was home schooled by my mom while I hung over her shoulder. I learned a lot, including how to read. So although socially I was far from ready for school, academically I was more than ready and anxious to learn more.
I survived the shock of my first days at school and predictably loved the exciting new world of playmates and classmates and regimented learning. Each summer was a great break, but I was ready to return to school long before the next term began.
Until . . . high school!
For high school I was even less prepared. My little three-room grade school ran out of grades after eighth, then we were bussed to a consolidated high school. Okay, I'll concede the high school wasn't very large, but after a three-room school and an eight-person class, that place seemed immense!
And as it always happens with me, everyone else seemed to know all the other people, where things were, and what was expected. I knew none of it! I was terrified! I was lost. I was alone.
Unlike grade school, adjusting to high school took a long time. But I survived and finally did become comfortable with it. I suffered only one discernible lingering effect - for at least twenty years after graduating, I wandered the halls and corridors of that frighteningly large school in my dreams desperately hunting for my locker!
Well, back to the young man at U of M. The University truly is a very large school, but he is so much more prepared for the transition. He has attended large schools all of his life and previously has made successful transitions between schools. He's very talented academically and has experience with college courses. He's braver and socially more adept than I'll ever be. Although he may become lost or disoriented at first, I doubt he'll spend the next twenty years wandering around that school in his dreams.
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