What I’ve learned as a late bloomer in education

As many young women of the late 1960s did, I attended college for a short time at 18, and then got pregnant, and then got married… yes, in that order. While in school, I wanted to major in Political Science and become a diplomat. Yet, marriage and babies seemed a much easier choice in an era where guidance counselors often said, “What do you want to be: a teacher, a nurse, or a secretary?” 

By 25, with four children under six years of age, college was the furthest thing from my mind. A couple of years later, as a single mom, I made my guidance counselor proud as a secretary, working to provide for my family. Like so many single moms, then and now, keeping up with work and home demands took everything I had.

But I began to dream of going to college. I hungered and thirst for knowledge, and read every chance I got.

Two years later, I married a psychology ABD, which means someone who completed everything for a doctoral degree but the dissertation. We made the decision for me to stay home with the children, and my emphasis beyond that became supporting and encouraging him in completing the doctoral degree necessary for his career. As we associated with more and more people with college degrees, I began to long even more for a college education for myself. However, four kids took up the time and money needed for me to go to school.  

We moved to a small town about 25 miles from the college where my husband worked. Whenever I went into town to get groceries or do other shopping, as I drove by the campus, I envied the people walking to and from class. Wanting to be in their place became a consistent thought for me.

When all of my children were teenagers, my husband and I attended a seminar about non-traditional students returning to school. We met with a wonderful advisor who recommended, since I had been out of school so long, that I not worry about getting back to core classes right away, but rather take something really interesting. He recommended the class “Women in History,” which, as a history buff, really appealed to me. Little did I know the course would change my life forever.

Six months later, my oldest son began college.

And so did I. 

I will never forget the first day of classes. I felt like I was walking on air, living my dream! It was the most incredible experience I had known. The only non-traditional student in class, I realized the difference that distinction made during a book discussion about Virginia Woolf’s Three Guineas. Someone remarked about not understanding a point, and I chirped in, “Well, I didn’t understand either the first time I read the book, but the third time, I got it.” The students looked at me like I’d just landed from outer space! A professor was lucky if traditional students read an assignment once, much less multiple times. Later I learned that the traditional students respected non-traditional students and valued their opinions, as long as we didn’t hog the discussion or talk to hear ourselves talking.  

The class was remarkable. Never having heard much about the women’s movement or understanding women’s lib, I didn’t know the history of the role of women in society and the oppression women faced, even though I lived some of it -- having to have my husband’s permission to have my tubes tied; not being able to get a credit card in my own name; not being allowed to take shop in high school. Fortunately, my husband was right on board with the new enlightened me. My children… not so much.

My second quarter in school, I took a class on Tudor-Stuart history. When a professor came to our class talking about a summer class in England, I took the brochure home without a thought. When my husband saw the information, he commented, “Why don’t you do this?” I thought he had lost his mind. We had four teenagers. Who would care for them and the house over the summer? (So much for my liberation!). He quickly assured me that he and the kids would be fine, and that I should take advantage of the opportunity. 

So, I did.

Though surrounded by students, almost all of them traditional, I was on my own for six week to focus on study and the city of London. I used that time to examine my dreams: who I wanted to be; what I wanted to be; how I was going to get there. 

Toward the end of the trip, the wife of my professor came to London. As we talked one day, I told her I had decided to get my Ph.D. in History. While encouraging at the time, she now talks about how she thought “No way this woman with four kids and a husband will make it all the way through to a Ph.D.!” 

But, I did.

I earned my bachelor’s and master’s degrees at the college where I began, then when my two youngest sons went off to college, I went back, as well. I attended a new doctoral program at Georgia Tech, the History of Technology and Society, specializing in historical sociology of American women. I stayed in Atlanta during the week, having left my husband with an empty nest, then went home for the weekends. One night when he asked what I was doing, I responded, “Reading about nuclear missile guidance. What about you?” He replied, “Doing laundry and loading the dishwasher!” We got a good laugh out of the role reversal.  

Although the classes were incredibly challenging, and in spite of not feeling as prepared as some of the other students, I found the experience exhilarating. However, carrying books while walking great distances from car to building, studying late at night and getting to school early in the morning, and traversing a three-story building without an elevator all left me exhausted. One day as a group of us came downstairs after a seminar, I remarked, “Sometimes I wonder why I am doing this to myself at this age.” One of the young women replied, “We’ve been wondering that as well.” 

All things considered, I do think that non-traditional students get so much more from education than traditional students do. Most 18 year olds are not really ready for the demands of college -- I’ve seen that much in my own classes. Being older gives you experience, as well as a viewpoint that relishes opportunities in the classroom rather than begrudges them. 

At age 49, I received my Ph.D. -- the first woman to do so in the new program. Since then I’ve worked as both temporary and permanent faculty, an administrator, and even  a museum director, for a short time. A car accident caused me to medically retire after only 10 years of teaching, but for years I couldn’t talk about leaving teaching without crying. I loved teaching so much. I feel as though it’s what I was truly born to do… it’s the first thing that came completely naturally to me. And it’s something I never would’ve known if I had not pursued my dream.

“At age 49, I received my Ph.D. — the first woman to do so in the new program. ”

The purpose of my story is this: dream about your future, no matter what age you are. Don’t accept where you are if you want to be someplace else, even if you don’t know where that someplace else might be right now. Yet, you have to make a move, and take that first step. 

I was 39 when I began my college journey and 49 when I completed it. And guess what... I would have been 49 even if I hadn’t achieved my dream. It is never too late to pursue an education. You have so much to bring to the table; don’t doubt yourself or think you won’t fit in. What is important is following your dream. No one can ever take that away from you.