There’s a new twist in my Texas Education. It’s formal now. Official. I’m an undergrad … again … at 60. As I peruse my first class syllabus I’m transported back in time, back not as far as many will think. For my first degree I took the long way round … 17 years long. Graduation day for me was right after my oldest graduated 8th grade. I remember doing homework, at the kitchen table in our house on Selma Ave in Fremont, California. Jesse and Andrew were often studying at the same table, sharing chips and guacamole. Brain food. Without my boys, my hubby and absolutely amazing in-laws, I wouldn’t have a degree in psychology.
Why am I starting again, now, at my age? Because I’m in Texas; because it’s a benefit of Steve’s place of employment; because God plucked us out of the Rockies and planted us in the Piney Woods.
Never, ever, did I think I’d go back to school for another bachelor’s degree, but I’m so thrilled to be an undergrad again. As my first course begins, I’m overwhelmed, scared and excited.
I’m not too old! I can do this! This is AMAZING!
My heart’s cry … Oh God! Please help me do this well!