Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Grandpa Going to College?





John Little


I was given my placement test results, by a lady with dark, shoulder length hair, glasses and kind eyes. She was a little older than me and reminded me of the librarian from my high school days.

 

“Take this to the front office and make an appointment to visit with an advisor.”

 

I stepped out into a hallway with hard speckled floors, white walls with gold borders up to the ceiling, classrooms and offices on both sides. On the walk from the library, to the office, I examined the paper that was given to me. It had three numbers on it, that I wasn’t sure what they meant. When I arrived at the main entrance hall, I looked at the office where I was to make my appointment. It was all glass with glass double doors that were propped open. I also looked at the exit, with the sun shining outside and for a second, thought about just leaving and forgetting the whole thing. I walked through the glass doors to where the receptionist was sitting.

 

“May I help you?” asked the young lady sitting behind the desk. Actually, it was more like a desk wall, with three separate desks on the other side. She was sitting in a low chair that bothered me. For some reason I am uncomfortable talking down to people, maybe because I am short and used to looking up at people. I explained that I need to meet with an advisor and had just finished my placement test. She asked me to have a seat and would have an advisor talk with me.

 

I sat in a hard-plastic chair with a wire metal frame, outside of the glass wall, facing the bookstore. I noticed the gray t-shirts first, with the college name, in yellow or gold on the front. There was a poster talking about student aide and another with the sports schedule. Inside, there were students looking for supplies, milling around resembling shoppers at a grocery store. Some looked like they had no idea what they were doing and some sure of themselves. One young man appeared to have a face full of pimples, at least I think it was pimples, could have been freckles or birth marks. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Some had backpacks, others book bags and every one of them young enough to be my child.

 

I could either hear nothing, or I just didn’t notice any sounds, other than my breathing and the paper crinkling in my hand. I was acutely aware of my heart beating. It didn’t seem to be beating any faster, but it seemed to be thumping my chest harder than usual. So many thoughts started to swirl in my head. Am I too old for this? Will I be able to pass any classes? Will the other students give me shit for being a “middle aged man” in their class? I decided to google the numbers on the results sheet, of my placement test. What? This can’t be right. These scores were actually pretty good, and how did I do better on the math? It was then that I noticed the scale at the bottom of the sheet, showing average scores. I felt like an idiot not noticing it before.

 

I watched a young lady, who worked out at the same gym as I did, walk in the building. She gave me a shocked sounding “Hi” before hurrying off to where she needed to be. She is around five feet ten inches tall and thin, but athletic. I think she is, or was, a volleyball player.

 

The advisor came out to get me and introduced herself. I instantly forgot her name. I had so many thoughts going through my head. What kind of questions is she going to ask? Will I need my high school diploma or DD214? Maybe my W-2? How much is this going to cost? It was like a reel to reel projector, at the end of the tape going flip, flip, flip. I followed to her office and sat in one of the chairs facing her desk. This chair was cushioned with a wooden frame and much more comfortable. Her desk had papers scattered across it in some sort of organized chaos.

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“I’m not sure. What would you suggest for old people going back to school?”

 

She chuckled and said, “It can be difficult for nontraditional students like us, going back to school. What were you thinking?”

 

 “I didn’t know what to expect when I came in but, I guess an associates of science.”

           

“Okay. Are you planning on transferring your credits?”

 

 “I was looking at the online physical therapy assistant at Southeast.” In my mind, this made sense to me. I am a wrestling coach and like to work out. Seemed like a natural connection.

 

“Well let’s just see what that requires.” She did some mouse clicking and turned the screen for me to see. “These are the courses that are required.”

 

Suddenly my head felt like it was full of cement. “I will be in a nursing home before I can finish all those classes.”

 

She chuckled again and said, “No, no, you have to complete one English, algebra, speech, two science and a psychology class. Then you can apply for the physical therapy assistant course. This just lists the classes that will qualify you. You don’t have to take every class on the list.”

 

 Hearing that was a relief, but I still had a headache. “What is available?”

 

 “Classes started last week, but there are some that have a late start.”  She did some more mouse clicking and one by one, we went through all the classes that I needed. She answered all my questions and listened to all my stupid comments, with the patience of a special needs teacher. She didn’t seem to be annoyed or impatient with me, but if were in her place, that’s what I would have been feeling. One by one we ruled out classes. This one is full. This one started last week and the Professor doesn’t like late starts. I was beginning to think I would have to wait for the next term. Finally, we found an English Comp class and an intermediate algebra class. The algebra class started last week, but only had one class, so she emailed the professor to see if I could get in. The English class didn’t start for another week and a half, so I was good there.

 

“How hard are these classes? Remember, I haven’t been in school for three decades. I have taken an online class here and there but haven’t been in an actual classroom for a long time.”

 

“We have many resources to help our students succeed. Each class will have resources as well and we also have tutoring available. After you start, if you feel like you are not going to pass, you have until April 23rd to drop classes.”  She checked her computer and told me that the algebra professor emailed her back and would allow me to join the class.

 

This did not boost my confidence at all. I began to wonder if “traditional” students went through some of the same feelings that I was having. “Okay. I will sign up for the English and algebra class, but I have some concerns and questions. I am a veteran and want to know if there are any benefits. I also need to know how to apply for assistance.”

 

“I will get you with our financial aid advisor, but for now, let’s get you enrolled in those classes.” She gave me some pamphlets and filled out some paperwork.

 

She had me sign the paperwork, set up a meeting with the algebra professor and financial aid. “I think you will do great. Just be sure to utilize the resources that you need and don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

 

I took the paperwork and left the building with an equal feeling of anxiety and excitement. The sunlight was deceptive. It was much colder than it looked with a wind that cuts right through my clothes. On to the next adventure in my confusing life.