In three short weeks, I start a new chapter in my life.  I’m excited in that can’t-wait kind of way.  I’m also scared witless.  I’m going back to school.

Going back to school is not new for me by any means.  After all, I made a lifetime habit of it, having taught for over 30 years.  But I left the professional world last year.  It was time to slow down.  It was time to reconnect with myself as together we forged a new path.

I had fun.  I loved my flexible schedule as I pursued my first love, which was writing.  I wrote self-indulgent essays.  I blogged.  I took online writing classes and went to conferences and began marketing my writing.  But it wasn’t enough.  I had no real sense of purpose.  I felt guilty and nonproductive.  I needed something more so I started to look around.

I learned about a Master’s in Professional Writing that a university about an hour from me offered.  I decided to apply.  When accepted, I was invited to apply for a graduate teaching assistantship.  Tuition would be waived and I’d earn a stipend for working about ten hours per week.  Energy hummed in me it sounded so perfect.  I mailed off the packet of requested information with a niggling fear that the selection committee might come to the conclusion that I was too old without having met me.

As it turns out, they had more sense than that, and I was offered an assistantship.  

Last week I went to school to sign some paperwork.  I passed several students as I crisscrossed the campus in search of the English building.  They looked so young.  A few doubts crept in.  But with shoulders back, I pressed on, forcing more pep in my step as the blazing Georgia sun beat down on me.

A wonderfully helpful person processed me in and printed my personal information so I could drop by the student center for a photo ID and pick up a parking pass.  I glanced at the form she handed me as we walked out of her office.  All the pertinent information was there:  name, address, campus email, student number, sex, age and schedule of classes.  But it was the bold 58 that captured my gaze.  I resisted the urge to cover it with my thumb as I wondered what these young chicks thought about a 58-year-old grandmother returning to graduate school to begin a new degree.

Overall, the day was a success.  Navigating the large and unfamiliar campus, with only a couple of missteps, boosted my confidence.

Back at home I relaxed by scanning the local newspaper.  One article profiled the four finalists for the men’s head basketball coaching position at our community college.  The big news is that the college is reinstating athletics after a 34 year absence.  Being the basketball fan that I am, I read with interest.  The candidates had impressive although varied experience.  They were all within five years of my age, with two being 60.  Sixty for a head basketball coach jumpstarting a new program sounded about right – someone both experienced and seasoned who would inspire confidence for success.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that the dichotomy of my attitude hit me like the proverbial cup of cold water in our face that wakes us from a deep sleep.  And I needed to be awakened.  WTF???  I sat straight up in bed.  The age of these gentlemen was not an issue for me at all.  Why then, should it be any different for me as I begin a new experience and career path?  This new opportunity allows me to parlay years of teaching experience in an exciting direction as well as combine my love for writing and teaching.   Some inner walls came tumbling down.  No longer will I feel embarrassed by my age, or try to hide it.  The problem lies within and nowhere else.

As if I needed further affirmation, during my next campus visit I met a gentleman who, at 83, just finished the program I’m starting.  In fact, after running a successful string of high-end spas before selling them, he went back to school and earned his undergraduate degree first.  He’s writing a memoir and thinking about adding a Ph.D to his list of accomplishments.

Turns out this 58-year-old is a mere babe.  I‘ve so got this.

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Letha I am struggling with this i have a daughter in college and i decide to go back to a community college, i was nervous when i arrive at the campus thinking i know everyone saying she is too old to be here yet i built my nerve up and made it through the first process of entering school, i can't relate.

1 like this.
Aug 13, 2012, 1:45 PM EDT

smfischer I'm 52 and have been going to school after a 20+ years career in the housekeeping field. I had gone to school before to get into the medical field but it had not happened. So last year I entered another medical assisting course and took the certification test and passed with flying colors. However I have not been able to get a position as they are all looking for 1-3 years of experience! Now I am taking another program for Patient Care Technician. It has never bothered me about my age. Except looking for a job in a new field. While many of my classmates get jobs at intern sites I do not. I will keep plugging away until I obtain a position in the medical field. It may require more schooling but I'm up for the challenge! Best wishes to anyone seeking a new career. I think it can happen.

Sep 16, 2012, 8:44 AM EDT

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