At 45, I went back to school.
The desire to go back, to get that Masters Degree, has haunted me like a vengeful spirit from a B-grade horror movie. I found myself dreaming about college; I read the want ads in the newspaper and would mentally circle the listings which called for a degree.
I remembered my past — almost three decades ago — and how foolish I'd been. I wondered if I could ever atone for my mistakes. Then, somewhere between the end of my first marriage and the the start of my second, I realized I'd been given a gift.
A chance to start over.
Honestly. There it was, the real opportunity to return to my roots, rebuild my life and take another shot at the brass ring. I just had to be smart enough to see the chance and take it.
I did.
Several years ago I left a job I truly loved (and was very good at) because the work environment became so poisoned I couldn't stay. I'd lost hope. I felt I'd come to the apex of my career only to have it all come crashing down around me.
There was one positive. After many years of being a single father, I met and married a wonderful woman who proved to me that it's okay to fall in love again. She helped ease the pain and she kept me from drifting.
And, for the first time in years, I was happy at home.
I didn't know it then, but that was my first step toward starting over.
The others came later.
After trying to make it as a free-lance writer, I had decided to return to the world of politics. I'd been negotiating with a job offer for a while, only to be told at the last minute that I didn't make the final cut.
Still looking for work, I got a telephone call from the managing editor of the Norman Transcript who asked me if I wanted "to return to my roots."
So I returned.
That was the second step.
I'd left the industry more that 20 years before because public relations — and politics — paid more. And I'd never looked back. But the ghosts of my past weren't through with me.
I'd no sooner accepted the position at the Transcript, when the first job offer returned. The pay was higher — at least $10,000 more — and the health benefits were incredible.
Yet something in the back of my head told me to stay put. Something told me that I belonged at the Transcript; that I was supposed to be there; that I wasn't supposed to take the other job.
So I turned down the higher paying offer and took another step toward rebuilding my life.
The messages weren't always clear. The Transcript newsroom was filled mostly with young reporters and it was only myself and one other reporter who were past the age of 35 — for a while things were awkward.
Real awkward.
Then, slowly, the atmosphere changed. The newspaper discovered that I could write well, my sources learned I took them seriously, and the politicians discovered that I wasn't afraid of them.
I also added to the Transcript's collection of awards.
And yet another part of my life fell into place.
The, one Sunday afternoon, in Aug. of 2007, I was sitting here, at the computer, web surfing. Somehow (and don't ask me, because I can't tell you how) I ended up at the United States Department of Education's web site.
Before I knew what was happening I had filled out an application for federal student aid, sent it to OU, OSU and UCO and applied at all three schools.
I heard from OU and OSU; UCO never said anything.
But the ghosts were sill there.
My application was denied at OU because my degree was so old and due to some poor grades from my past at OSU. "Okay," I thought to myself, "this was a stupid idea."
But the nice lady in OU admission's office didn't.
She recognized my name (a Transcript reader, she was) and asked me if I worked there. I told her yes and she said, I should seek an appeal. She told me who to contact and suggested I write a letter to the Dean of the OU Journalism school asking to be admitted.
"Include a list of all the awards you've won and you're work history," she said. "You'd be surprised how that works."
She was right.
My appeal was accepted and I was admitted to OU.
Funding was my next problem. I didn't think I could afford the cost of the part-time tuition, but the U.S. Government though otherwise. They considered me a worthwhile investment, and I was amazed to learn that I qualified for loans and government aid.
So I enrolled at a part-time student at the University of Oklahoma.
And, holy shit, I was scared. I'm 45. I've got kids. I"m not young. I'll be in classes with kids right out of high school. What if I look stupid? What if I say something stupid? What if....
"I must have been kidding myself," I kept thinking. "This is nuts."
It wasn't.
My first semester, I took a political science class and Latin (at OSU I didn't need the foreign language but things had since changed.)
I knew I'd do fine the PolySci class, but Latin looked like it was going to kick my ass. I failed the very first quiz and I could see my college career going down in flames before it ever got started.
So I went to the Latin instructor and whined. She just smiled.
"You know, I went back to school as an adult, too," she said. "It was just your first quiz. You'll do fine. Just relax and come to class."
She was right.
After a while things settled down and I discovered I really enjoyed the class. It was a Helluva' lot of work, though. Learning a foreign language at 45 isn't for the faint of heart.
But my kids helped me study, my wife suggested flash cards and, together, the entire family embraced my return to school.
My grade also went from an F to a B — and it stayed there. Oh, I also aced the PolySci class.
By the time the semester ended, I had completed 8 hours at OU with a 3.34 GPA. Since I wanted to get ahead, I enrolled in the summer session and took six more hours — a journalism class about the Hollywood Blacklist and a westeren culture class about ancient martyrs.
Aced 'em both.
In addition, I applied for a scholarship (on a whim) and got it.
Now with my 3.64 GPA, (yes that summer semester 4.0 rocked) I enrolled in the fall -- more Latin and a class on professional writing.
And I can tell you I'm loving it. I realize now, that the reason I was supposed to take the job in Norman was so I could return to school and work. God pushed me toward the Transcript to ensure I'd go back to college.
During that same time, Karen and I had a baby and my return to "Go" was complete.
Truly, this all was a sign, I was supposed to start over.
So I have. I've embraced this second chance, vowing to treasure every gift and exploit every opportunity. And yes, it's hard work. Juggling a full-time job, a full-time family, the role of a full-time father with that a of part-time student is not easy.
But it is so worth it.
So here I am. By the end of the fall semester I should have about half my hours needed for my degree. My financial aid is ready and my grades are rock solid.
By now, the kids are used to me in school and, often, we all do homework together. They whine less, too. They've seen me study hard so they know it's expected of them. My wife has also been wonderful; cheering me on every step of the way and pushing me to write and trying an sell my novel.
I've discovered that my life is good.
But I've also discovered that getting a second chance to correct my mistakes and start my life over is even better.
The desire to go back, to get that Masters Degree, has haunted me like a vengeful spirit from a B-grade horror movie. I found myself dreaming about college; I read the want ads in the newspaper and would mentally circle the listings which called for a degree.
I remembered my past — almost three decades ago — and how foolish I'd been. I wondered if I could ever atone for my mistakes. Then, somewhere between the end of my first marriage and the the start of my second, I realized I'd been given a gift.
A chance to start over.
Honestly. There it was, the real opportunity to return to my roots, rebuild my life and take another shot at the brass ring. I just had to be smart enough to see the chance and take it.
I did.
Several years ago I left a job I truly loved (and was very good at) because the work environment became so poisoned I couldn't stay. I'd lost hope. I felt I'd come to the apex of my career only to have it all come crashing down around me.
There was one positive. After many years of being a single father, I met and married a wonderful woman who proved to me that it's okay to fall in love again. She helped ease the pain and she kept me from drifting.
And, for the first time in years, I was happy at home.
I didn't know it then, but that was my first step toward starting over.
The others came later.
After trying to make it as a free-lance writer, I had decided to return to the world of politics. I'd been negotiating with a job offer for a while, only to be told at the last minute that I didn't make the final cut.
Still looking for work, I got a telephone call from the managing editor of the Norman Transcript who asked me if I wanted "to return to my roots."
So I returned.
That was the second step.
I'd left the industry more that 20 years before because public relations — and politics — paid more. And I'd never looked back. But the ghosts of my past weren't through with me.
I'd no sooner accepted the position at the Transcript, when the first job offer returned. The pay was higher — at least $10,000 more — and the health benefits were incredible.
Yet something in the back of my head told me to stay put. Something told me that I belonged at the Transcript; that I was supposed to be there; that I wasn't supposed to take the other job.
So I turned down the higher paying offer and took another step toward rebuilding my life.
The messages weren't always clear. The Transcript newsroom was filled mostly with young reporters and it was only myself and one other reporter who were past the age of 35 — for a while things were awkward.
Real awkward.
Then, slowly, the atmosphere changed. The newspaper discovered that I could write well, my sources learned I took them seriously, and the politicians discovered that I wasn't afraid of them.
I also added to the Transcript's collection of awards.
And yet another part of my life fell into place.
The, one Sunday afternoon, in Aug. of 2007, I was sitting here, at the computer, web surfing. Somehow (and don't ask me, because I can't tell you how) I ended up at the United States Department of Education's web site.
Before I knew what was happening I had filled out an application for federal student aid, sent it to OU, OSU and UCO and applied at all three schools.
I heard from OU and OSU; UCO never said anything.
But the ghosts were sill there.
My application was denied at OU because my degree was so old and due to some poor grades from my past at OSU. "Okay," I thought to myself, "this was a stupid idea."
But the nice lady in OU admission's office didn't.
She recognized my name (a Transcript reader, she was) and asked me if I worked there. I told her yes and she said, I should seek an appeal. She told me who to contact and suggested I write a letter to the Dean of the OU Journalism school asking to be admitted.
"Include a list of all the awards you've won and you're work history," she said. "You'd be surprised how that works."
She was right.
My appeal was accepted and I was admitted to OU.
Funding was my next problem. I didn't think I could afford the cost of the part-time tuition, but the U.S. Government though otherwise. They considered me a worthwhile investment, and I was amazed to learn that I qualified for loans and government aid.
So I enrolled at a part-time student at the University of Oklahoma.
And, holy shit, I was scared. I'm 45. I've got kids. I"m not young. I'll be in classes with kids right out of high school. What if I look stupid? What if I say something stupid? What if....
"I must have been kidding myself," I kept thinking. "This is nuts."
It wasn't.
My first semester, I took a political science class and Latin (at OSU I didn't need the foreign language but things had since changed.)
I knew I'd do fine the PolySci class, but Latin looked like it was going to kick my ass. I failed the very first quiz and I could see my college career going down in flames before it ever got started.
So I went to the Latin instructor and whined. She just smiled.
"You know, I went back to school as an adult, too," she said. "It was just your first quiz. You'll do fine. Just relax and come to class."
She was right.
After a while things settled down and I discovered I really enjoyed the class. It was a Helluva' lot of work, though. Learning a foreign language at 45 isn't for the faint of heart.
But my kids helped me study, my wife suggested flash cards and, together, the entire family embraced my return to school.
My grade also went from an F to a B — and it stayed there. Oh, I also aced the PolySci class.
By the time the semester ended, I had completed 8 hours at OU with a 3.34 GPA. Since I wanted to get ahead, I enrolled in the summer session and took six more hours — a journalism class about the Hollywood Blacklist and a westeren culture class about ancient martyrs.
Aced 'em both.
In addition, I applied for a scholarship (on a whim) and got it.
Now with my 3.64 GPA, (yes that summer semester 4.0 rocked) I enrolled in the fall -- more Latin and a class on professional writing.
And I can tell you I'm loving it. I realize now, that the reason I was supposed to take the job in Norman was so I could return to school and work. God pushed me toward the Transcript to ensure I'd go back to college.
During that same time, Karen and I had a baby and my return to "Go" was complete.
Truly, this all was a sign, I was supposed to start over.
So I have. I've embraced this second chance, vowing to treasure every gift and exploit every opportunity. And yes, it's hard work. Juggling a full-time job, a full-time family, the role of a full-time father with that a of part-time student is not easy.
But it is so worth it.
So here I am. By the end of the fall semester I should have about half my hours needed for my degree. My financial aid is ready and my grades are rock solid.
By now, the kids are used to me in school and, often, we all do homework together. They whine less, too. They've seen me study hard so they know it's expected of them. My wife has also been wonderful; cheering me on every step of the way and pushing me to write and trying an sell my novel.
I've discovered that my life is good.
But I've also discovered that getting a second chance to correct my mistakes and start my life over is even better.
Comments
I wish you the best.
OD
Jack
A lot of parents never realize that their kids model them. Doing your homework -- or simply reading -- during their homework time is a great example.