Over the past couple of days, my family has helped me realize that I’m looking at this whole going back to school thing the wrong way–rather than focusing on how much I don’t fit in, I need to be extremely grateful for this opportunity I have to be going back.
This last year or so…well, I’ve been living in a way that wouldn’t be good for anybody. I’ve been sitting home alone, only leaving the house enough to for the dogs to take care of their needs, and to buy groceries. Rather than fight my agoraphobia, I’ve been feeding it. So, it’s no wonder that all of a sudden I’m stressed and disoriented being around hundreds of other people.
So, from here on out, I’m going to try to minimize my discomfiture, and focus, at least when talking about school, the more positive aspects.
I had my first class from UVU today (the classes that will get me on campus the other four days of the week are being taught by LDS Institute) –I was so late in registering, that the only way I could get into my classes was to take them on the weekend.
This was the class I was most worried about, English 1010. It’s a course that is required of everyone, and when I took (and failed) it at USU, it was full of jocks and people (like me) who were just out of high school.
Fortunately for me, most little 18 year olds aren’t going to be taking a class, even a required class that is only once a week, and ends at 6:30 on a Friday. There were a few, but for everyone fresh out of high school, there was somebody over the age of 25–including a woman who was brave enough to admit that her children were teenagers.
I left that class today feeling much more confident both in my abilities as a writer, and about going back to school in general.
And it didn’t hurt that I finally managed to locate the Jamba Juice that I spotted on the campus tour, and promptly forgot where it was. Finding the Jamba Juice may or may not have been my unofficial goal for the week…
Don’t worry, Mom, I know that I can’t afford either the money or the calories that come with having a smoothie even once a week. And while the Jamba Juice is located in the same building as my two on-campus classes, it was closed by the time I got out of class, and I don’t know if it’ll be open for my class tomorrow.
Speaking of my class tomorrow–who in their right mind takes an Art History class at 8am on a Saturday?
Oh, that’s right, someone who didn’t get registered soon enough to take it at a more decent hour. I seriously hope I’ll be able to stay awake.