For some, the decision to go to college is an easy one. For others, it’s an arduous process, requiring long lists of pros and cons and self-critical reflections. For me, the decision not to go to college after high school fell somewhere in between these two scenarios, and I found myself on an alternate path.
I’ve been a hairdresser for twenty-seven years. When the pandemic shut down salons, I had more free time than I knew what to do with. I found myself making more lists and commenting on what was sure to be my impending midlife crisis. It was a shock to everyone but me when, twenty-three years after graduating high school, in the fall of 2020, I took a page from a “Choose Your Own Adventure” novel and chose a new adventure for myself: my first semester of college. That fall, UNO had a total undergraduate student body of 12,026. Of those students, 2,665 would be considered nontraditional due to their age of 25 or older. I’m sure other students starting that fall had similar concerns to mine. What would college look like without a classroom? How do you build community without a campus? What exactly is Zoom and how do you do it? This last point may not have been shared by most of my classmates, but it was a real concern for me.
By fall 2021, after two semesters of online classes, I was no longer afraid of my computer or Zoom, but new fears had surfaced. Most of my classes were back on campus, and I was afraid of being in the wrong classroom and having to talk to someone, or worse, not being approached. Before I knew it, students were asking me directions, asking me questions about the class, and avoiding eye contact. I learned not to sit too close to the front of the class so I wouldn’t be mistaken for the professor. Somehow, even though I was sitting at a desk and not standing in the front row, I was still mistaken for the person in charge. I’d like to think it was because I exuded knowledge and confidence, but in truth, it was probably because I was older than most of my professors.
I quickly realized that I was in a rather peculiar situation. I had no desire to make friends. I was not afraid to go days without talking to anyone. Many of my classmates were the same age as my daughter. I did not want to be friends with anyone and I did not think that anyone was interested in making friends with me. I had no desire to join a study group and I certainly had no intention of socializing with anyone. It was liberating to be in a place where that was not necessary. I was there to go to school. I was prepared for the isolation that many feared and almost looked forward to it.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but one day, as I was saying goodbye to someone and wishing them a good weekend, I realized that I had been speaking openly to the other students in my class. We would greet each other and chat when we saw each other outside of the classroom. There were even times when, despite the creaking of my knees as I walked up the stairs, I could easily forget that I was twice the age of most of the students in my class. One glance around campus at the flannel shirts, high-waisted jeans, and combat boots, and I’m certain that what I see today is not far from what I would have seen if I had gone to college in 1997 after graduating from high school. It’s taken me more than 20 years, but I seem to have found my way back to the path I once envisioned. It's like starting over at the beginning of a Choose Your Own Adventure book, but I was able to retain all the lessons I learned before.
When I started this post, I had so many plans for what I was going to write—mostly just unsolicited advice, so here it is—it’s okay if you don’t have it all figured out. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, most of us are winging it as we go. Just when we think we have it all figured out, something happens that changes everything. It’s never too late to start over with your book—you never know, you might find yourself, like me, on an adventure you didn’t know you needed.
