Blowing Out Candles

August 16, 1999

College Envy

It was bound to happen.

I'm staring longingly at the signs in store windows. I'm hoarding the Sunday circulars. I'm drooling over lunch boxes. I knew it was bad when I picked up a notebook - on sale! - and then sadly returned it to the shelf. I don't need it.

It's almost fall. It's back to school time.

I'm not going back to school.

I don't remember much of that fuzzy first day of kindergarten, but I clearly remember the dreaded first day of high school, the release of graduation, the anticipated first day of college. As college graduation approached, I applied for graduate school. I hesitated before doing so as I thought "Can I handle two more years of homework, classes, exams?" But I went ahead and did it anyway. My mother pointed out that I'd "get it all over with all at once." It sounded like a good idea, and at the back of my mind I think I knew that I was putting off the "real" world by staying a student just a little bit longer. A student ID is a student ID, discounts are discounts, and I was given a legitimate excuse for not finding a career just yet.

A few Springs ago, I graduated with a master's degree, and the shock of being out of school set in slowly. After all, it was the summer, and I'd always had my summers off. First, I relished my free time. I stayed in bed until late morning, then lazily rose to watch television or check my email. Suddenly, as afternoon approached, I'd jump up. What's due tomorrow? Did I finish that essay? Did I spell check my thesis? And then it would hit me. It's all done. It's over. I'm free.

So I got a job. This too was normal enough. I've had summer jobs before, but they were always temporary positions. For the duration of the summer I lived in blissful ignorance, working full time, but not really accepting what I had done. But then the summer ended, and the job didn't. I came home some evenings unsure of what to do with myself. There are no ready made clubs to join, no classes to attend, no dorms full of my peers, no HOMEWORK! (OK, so it isn't all bad.)

I'm slowly learning a brand new lesson: how to deal with the rest of my life. I'm learning how to meet people, join groups, manage my time. My younger friends say "Let's go out!" on a Tuesday night. I say "I have to get to sleep so I can get up for work," or, "I suppose I could drink a lot of coffee tomorrow..." They cut class to catch up on their sleep, or sleep the day away and go to class at night. Yeah, I remember the good old days.

I realize that many of my peers have chosen different routes, and have either dealt with this realization already or are planning a return to school in the future. But I chose to go directly from high school to college to graduate school, and after almost SIXTEEN continuous years of being in school, I probably never will be a full time student again. It's scary, it's exciting, it's strange. I'm not being graded any longer, and there are no actual tests to take. I am learning how to measure my accomplishments and goals on my own, without benefit of friendly numbers or letters. Yes, I've done this before. But at the same time I haven't. There has always been a class to attend, a report card to read, an exam to study for. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy and relieved that those days are over. But I feel like Lisa Simpson in the episode about the teachers' strike. "Somebody grade me! Rate me! Please!"

No really. I'll be fine. I don't miss classes at all. I'm thrilled to be done with it.

On the subway every morning on my way to work, though, I tear off every continuing education card I can find. And I'm thinking, a doctorate would certainly be an asset, wouldn't it?

Marla Tiara