Tomorrow I will pack my book bag with my pencils and all my treasures of education and head back to school (this reminds me, must get school supplies before tomorrow). I am three months and three classes away from graduation and it has taken a good ten years to get here. Nothing like using the fast track, right. My affair with school has been a long tumultuous one.
I started university straight out of high school. This was back in the day when Ontario high schools/universities required students to take OAC after they technically “graduated” from high school. I was intent on law school and shuffled myself into the Philosophy department. As mouthy as I can be when it comes to politics and philosophy (it really does happen), I didn’t hit my niche there. I would wander the English department aisles in the school bookstore, naively buy some of the books that were required reading for the literature classes – by the way, not cool of me to do that. If you were an English major at the University of Windsor and the bookstore was always running out of your classes’ books, I’m sorry. But, it’s how I discovered Gabriel Garcia Marquez so I’m only kind of sorry.
It was also at this time that my wonky brain kicked into gear. That is all I shall say about that for now but suffice to say, I floundered and I am the proud owner (?) of a Philosophy minor under my new degree.
Now, many classes, spilled tears and exams written in a flurry (or fury) later, I am almost finished. And I’m really damn scared. I was the social pariah for two semesters because I was pregnant and the looming graduation has me in the same mixed state of excited and trepidatious. (Yeah, want to make friends in university? Don’t show up with a human growing inside you.)
Because at almost 30 (yay me for finishing the degree 3 months before 30), I will be an official adult. In spite of the children, the husband and all of that, there is something about finishing school and being able to get a job that does not include, “Can I get you something to drink to start?” that makes me feel like an adult. A responsible one.
Who doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. So, this mama has a lot to learn. Like how to funnel this love of writing and reading of hers into actual work. Because that would be the best, wouldn’t it? Also, it’s not just a love I can tell you about. I’ll have a piece of paper that says the same thing and maybe my LinkedIn profile won’t be so pitiful anymore.