… aaannnd exhale.
Ever since I picked up my (empty) diploma folder at the UALR commencement ceremony three weeks ago, I’ve had this nagging worry that maybe I hadn’t completed all of the hours I needed to graduate. This anxiety led me to check the status of my graduation application daily. Up until today, the status has been “pending.” I just knew that because I’d told everyone I was graduating and had my family sit through a two hour commencement exercise, I would be informed that some obscure thing had been overlooked:
“Uh oh, looks like you’re shy three credit hours. Didn’t your faculty advisor tell you about our new Underwater Basket Weaving requirement? No? Oh, it’s a wonderful course – exposing students to artistic design, wicker, snorkels…”
“Is it a companion course to Seminars in Career Perspectives?”
Today I got the news that I am, indeed, a college graduate. In a few weeks I will get notification that I can come back to campus to pick up my diploma. (Somehow the thousands of dollars I’ve spent on “student fees” don’t cover a manila envelope and postage.)
Having already taken eighty hours in the ‘70s, I embarked on completing my college education in 2007. I didn’t know that was what I was doing; the original plan was to just take a few writing courses. The thing is, you have to meet with a faculty advisor before you are allowed to register for classes every term and these advisors treated me like a real student. I was enjoying the classes and, I admit, the validation so I decided to go ahead and finish. My kids were grown and I got a tuition discount so, why not?
Five years and sixty-two credit hours later, I got my Bachelor of Arts in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing. My GPA for those sixty-two hours was a 3.9, but unfortunately the courses I took during the “lost” years of the ‘70s dragged that grade point down too low to graduate with honors. It’s amazing what
My time at UALR was a rewarding experience, one of learning and self-discovery interlaced with regular doses of mortification. I could count on two, maybe three fingers the number of professors that were older than me. I remembered my Speech teacher from when his T-ball team played my son’s.
Friends ask me how I feel now that I’m finished and I tell them, “Semi-retired.” I sleep through the night again because I’m no longer awake worrying about completing an assignment. All I have to do is go to my job and then my time is all my own. I can read what I want without highlighters and sticky notes and not retain a damn thing. I can work in the yard and cross stitch without the guilt of neglecting my studies.
All in all, I’m glad I went back and got my Bachelors, but I’m ecstatic that it’s over.
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