Thresholds are scary places. By their very nature they force a choice. Take a step backwards, take a step forwards, or stand forever on the brink of yesterday and tomorrow. In fact, the ancient Romans found the whole concept compelling enough to create a god of thresholds, Janus, the two-faced god of beginnings and endings. I happen to know all that because I wear a coin round my neck from 119 B.C. imprinted with the likeness of that ancient god. I consider it my personal talisman since it seems my life has consisted of nothing but thresholds. And it seems that I’ve managed to place myself on the brink once again.

But, before I take the plunge and move forward, I’ve been asked to take a look backwards and share with you some of my memories of what it was like when I stepped through this particular doorway once before. The threshold of which I speak is that of entering college for the first time as an adult, not a teenager straight from high school.

Returning to school is a threshold upon which many adults will find themselves at one time or another. Maybe even twice or three times, as I have. And, as I said before, it can be a scary thing. But, I hope that anyone standing on this particular threshold will not let that fear keep them from stepping through for learning and growth is the basis of all life.

The first time I returned to school I was twenty-five, having already been out of the whole ‘school mode’ for eight years and I was scared to death. I kept thinking ‘Would I be able to handle the course load? Would I fit in with the more traditional students that hadn’t taken an eight-year hiatus? Would I really benefit from the experience?’ After all, I’d been doing all right. I had been working for the same company for six years and was making okay money for someone without a college education. So, was it going to be worth it in the end?

After dithering about the decision for some time, I finally jumped forward, for that same company I had been working at had a terrific benefit where they would reimburse me for any college courses as long as it related in some way to my job. So, I thought, what do I have to lose? Then I read the fine print. The trick was that they would reimburse you depending upon what grade you received. If you managed an A for the course, they paid the whole thing. If a B, 80 percent, and so on down. If you failed the course, you were on your own. Hmmm. Still, it seemed worth a shot. Always being strongly motivated by money, I was determined to get an A in every single course. And, I almost managed it, goshdarnit! … Damn Algebra!

Having been accepted at Harrisburg Area Community College (HACC), I then proceeded to sign up for my first course. I chose a 6-week summer course in Philosophy; one of my required “core” credits. I managed to find my way to the campus bookstore and after wandering around for a long period of time because I was too embarrassed to ask the obviously fresh-out-of-high-school clerk for help, I finally managed to find the correct book for my class and shelled out the exorbitant amount of money colleges charge for textbooks.

The day of truth then arrived. I can’t even begin to describe the mixture of excitement, hope, humility, sweaty nervousness, and sheer stark raving terror that churned through my body as I walked towards my first class. I kept my head down, clutched my book tightly while I shot surreptitious glances at my fellow students, and hoped I didn’t look as out of place as I felt.

Since it was a summer course, there were a lot of teens in my class even though it was in the evening. They were there trying to get a jumpstart on the fall semester. Seeing all those fresh faces made me feel suddenly very old and awkward. Hesitantly, I chose a desk in the middle, trying not to appear too disinterested or afraid by taking a desk in the back, but not wanting to look too eager by sitting up front. Talk about over-analyzing a situation … sheesh!

The teacher came in — she was a slight, dark woman in her forties with a tired air about her —and class began. It didn’t take too long for me to figure out why she looked so worn out. Teaching Philosophy to a bunch of teenagers would drain anybody’s life force. I found that most traditional college students have a very lackadaisical attitude toward their education. What they’re doing after class is of much larger import than what’s going on in class — if they even bother to show up. Most of them mentally checked out as soon as their butts hit their chairs and tried to confine themselves to one or two syllable answers to such questions as, “is the death penalty moral?”

The teacher would suffer through several such monosyllabic answers and then, with resignation, finally turn to the few older students or the one or two teenagers who were actually interested in learning to get a true discussion going. From that Philosophy class I not only learned the beginnings and progression of rational thought, but I also discovered that, yes, I had gained at least a little wisdom since I had left high school and an inkling of a mature thought had actually snuck up on me at some point. Go figure.

Over the next few years I learned a great deal more. And that knowledge was certainly not confined to the book-learning type. I learned that maturity generally does bring dedication and commitment as evidenced by all those adults, some into their forties, fifties, even sixties, with whom I shared classes. They had gone back to college through a sincere desire to better themselves; and I watched them juggle work, school, and family commitments with a deftness and skill that bordered on amazing. I learned that even though I considered my strengths to lie in the artistic arena, I fought the hardest for those damn A’s in the elective classes such as Drawing and Ceramics that I took ‘just for fun’. (A’s in subjective courses are much more elusive than A’s in courses that are more easily measurable and quantifiable.) I discovered I enjoyed Accounting, Economics and most especially Business Law. (The latter was probably due largely to the fact that my teacher was gorgeous and will eternally be referred to in my mind as ‘Professor Hotpants’… a point by which I also discovered that I hadn’t matured enough to be immune to schoolgirl crushes.)

I also learned that just because a professor is teaching at the college-level does not mean that they’re a good or fair teacher (one of the two B’s I did get was given to me because of the fact I didn’t use white-out on a term paper. Instead I just lightly traced over a few letters I thought had been illegible since we had had to hand-write the entire eight-page paper without any mistakes. I was informed that the paper was superb, but I was docked for every one of those trace-overs to the point that it brought my grade down to a B. To this day, I will maintain that content should always be more important than presentation, but nobody asked my opinion.)

The years flew by, and I crossed several other personal thresholds that complicated my schoolwork. I took another position within the bank which meant a forty-five minute commute each way. I also started working for another department as a second-job giving me a basic fifty-hour workweek with the commute thrown on top if it. I still took my courses, however, and even managed to do a community theater show or two on the side.

Then, after a long, but interesting struggle, I finally graduated from HACC in the spring of 1996 and received my Associates Degree in Business Administration with Highest Honors for a GPA of 3.95.

I remember commencement quite clearly. As I stood in the back of the line where a last name beginning with ‘W’ always dooms me, it occurred to me that my college experience had most definitely made me a better, more interesting person. I had not only gained a greater understanding of how our world fit together from all those courses in social history and economics, I had a much better idea of where I fit into the whole thing. That’s a reassuring feeling in itself. I also realized that I had missed out on one thing in my college experience. For, as I gazed around at the hundreds of other students awaiting their degrees, I realized I didn’t recognize any of them and I felt no connection to them as a whole.

When attending college in a traditional way, your age mates tend to move forward with you as you go, progressing at the same rate. Taking classes a few at a time hadn’t allowed me to establish any sort of permanent friendships or rapport with anyone I had met during my years there. I had missed out on those life-long connections that many people forge through their college years and reminisce about so fondly and I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. So, it was with a hint of melancholy tempering my happiness and satisfaction with a goal well-met, that I went to the podium to receive my degree.

And, it was through that revelation that I also learned my final lesson from my college experience. With maturity comes the clarity of perception that makes most life experiences bittersweet.

Now, at thirty-one, I face the prospect of returning to school once more. I’ve applied to Penn State Middletown to complete my Bachelor’s Degree in their Humanities Program. After having passed a different threshold with becoming a mother a short ten months ago, I view returning to school with a different mix of hopes and worries than I did at twenty-five. I no longer worry if I can handle the workload, for I have no doubt I can. Now, I worry about having to place my daughter in daycare while I attend classes twice a week. I worry that I may possibly deprive her of quality time if I have classwork to be done. But, I also look forward to interacting with adults who will undoubtedly have more than my daughter’s current two-word vocabulary.

‘Fitting in’ no longer holds any importance, for with my daughter’s love has come the realization that other people’s opinions mean little against her unequivocable acceptance of who I am. That doesn’t mean, however, that this time around I won’t make a stronger effort to connect in a real way with the student community as a whole. Perhaps this time I’ll be able to foster that sense of camaraderie based upon mutual respect and the striving towards a common goal that I sensed was missing from my first college experience.

I have no doubt, however, that the lessons I learn from returning to college will not only be of the objective type. And I hope anyone who is considering the jump into a college education will find some inspiration from my personal odyssey. I hope I’ve been able to convey the overall positiveness of my experience and helped to nudge you over the edge. For a person should never let fear keep them teetering on the threshold of a new experience, because in standing still you choose stagnancy, which is the enemy of growth. Learning is and should be a lifelong process through which we discover higher truths about ourselves and others.