Call me a geek, but I LOVE back to school time. Of course, the fact that my birthday is at the beginning of September helps, too, but still, when the school supplies come out, it’s like the changing of the seasonal guard. It’s AWESOME.
This year is going to be a little different come that Tuesday after Labor Day. Not only will Mo be continuing learning the preschool ropes, Co-dizzle will be sticking her big toe into the preschool pool two days a week. Mo, in fact, started this week with her “orientation” (darn you, private schools with your uber-involvement) which includes several half days, special indoor-only soft shoes required by the school and a supply list long enough to keep Jon and Kate plus 8 in the black for three weeks. But I digress. We spent this week figuring out carpool schedules, nap routines and how to fold our everyday lives into this drop-off/pick-up on time mix.
Come Monday, it’s going to get really interesting. My first class is at 11am. Yes, gentle reader, I’m going back to school (Oh, my tummy is doing a serious Shawn Johnson impression right now).
As a freshman in college, I had aspirations of becoming a doctor, specifically, an OB/GYN. I got to college, enrolled in my first bio class and that’s when it fell apart. My professor was total douchebag; it was like he just picked a random page in the book to start with and went from there. I remember most if not all of the girls on my freshman dorm studying together in the common area for our first test. Stacks and stacks of index cards with terms on them, notebooks scribbled in from cover to cover. Girls were talking in their sleep about it. The test came and went, taking with it my desire to move forward. In short, I failed.
Yeah, I know, right? Unreal. I was beside myself. Here I was an honor roll student, who, to date, had received a C+ one time — in the fourth grade — and now my record is besmirched with an F (for what the fuck, evidently). So, I went to see this professor, who summarily dismissed me with a lot of fast talk about how I must not be ready for college seeing as I was only 17, that I must be homesick, that I must not be ready, that too bad, so sad, I can withdraw from the class leaving only a W on my transcript instead of an F. I opted for door number three and hightailed it out of there before that monkey bastard could see me cry. Which I did. For feeling like a complete and utter waste of brains (oooh, it burns me up now just to think about it).
(And as a side note, a friend of mine who also failed the same test and went to the Professor Monkey Bastard was told not to worry and that he would receive as much help as he needed in order to succeed. This I find out after I withdraw, but after my little convo with Prof. MB, I wanted to be as far a way from him as possible.
Fast forward to about a year or so ago. Throughout my pregnancy with Mo and definitely with Co, I often came out of my appointments thinking about “what if” with respect to pursuing the bio and in turn, a medical career. What if I had failed the first test, but decided to stick it out? What if I just ate the F and realized that you can still pass and still be employable in the long run? There were more and more “what if” scenarios that ran through my head as time passed. I started talking to the nurses in at the practice about how they got started in nursing. One related her story to me about how she had been 35, working in finance and raising her family when she decided to quit and go to school. Now, she’s late(r) 30’s and nursing. “Well hell,” I thought, “I’m not even 30 yet. I could do that!”
I sat on my info for a while until one night turned to DH and said, “I want to go back to school. For nursing.” And just like that, it was out of my mouth and in motion. I was going to open houses. I was talking with heads of departments. I was visiting campuses, submitting applications, requesting transcripts (what an exercise in frustration THAT is) and then, I was receiving my letter of acceptance. I’ve bought my back to school supplies, I’ve gotten a new backpack (no, I didn’t opt for the monogram, but I did consider it). I didn’t take it as far as the back to school outfit, but I may reconsider
Holy crap! I’m going back to school (here comes another stomach double back handspring followed by an triple salto). I’ve got three classes to take before I actually start the nursing program, which means, this time next year, that’s where I’ll be.
So, this coming Monday morning, I’ll take the girls to their respective schools before heading over to Anatomy and Physiology. Yeah, nothing like the various human systems right after breakfast.
