Freshman at 50...What was I thinking?

My actual status is a transfer student.  I was lucky they took the few credits I had and applied most of them.  The other ones, the useless ones?  They got me into school with a grade point I never realized would be important when I was going to beauty school at a community college.

I started off slow, mostly because of residential status and tuition costs, but I'm a believer that all things happen for a reason.  I wasn't quite ready for the commitment that was/is required.  I started with a one credit grammar class.  I had no idea just how useful that was going to be THIS semester.  It was once a week, online.  I thought it was hard.  I bitched about it constantly,  my one credit grammar class.  I passed with a 92% and I was pissed it wasn't higher.  Geez, I was a straight "A" beauty student, what the heck?  How could I forget all these rules in Grammar?  I was an English speaker.  Turns out I was an over punctuator, I was using words incorrectly and I almost always used the wrong verb form when it came to singular and plural nouns.  I almost gave up writing completely.  It kind of ruined my flow to write by the rules.

I got over it.  However, my divorce not being over with by the time the second semester rolled around and my residential status still not verified, I couldn't afford full-time status...again.  At this rate I was going to be a Freshman at 90.  I was enrolled in Spanish 101.  Two days a week, four credit hours.  Piece of cake right?  I'm a good student, I like school.  Spanish was going to be fun.

My advisor was on the Tempe campus, my class was on the downtown campus.  I took my pink bike on the light rail and rode to the other campus to speak with my advisor.  As I wound my way through the throng of students on their way to classes, I couldn't help but feel excitement.  I was here.  I was a college student at last!  I looked around at the other students.  I wanted to fit in but I didn't know what a 50 year old college student looked like.  I appeared to be the only one on campus this old that wasn't a faculty member.  I didn't even know what kind of school supplies to buy.  Can they tell I'm the old one?  Am I pathetic?  Being a fairly confident person, I feel insecure in this new environment.  It's not in my DNA to be highly organized, so I arrived on campus with no clue where I was going, as figuring that out ahead of time would indicate organization.

After searching every directory for the building, I rushed inside and ran smack dab into another student.  My papers went flying.  I made them hold the elevator only to realize the car was going down and I needed to go up.  Great start.  I should have just wore a sign on my back that said, "I have no idea what I'm doing and yes, I'm uncool.  I'm 50."

The following day I go to the bookstore to buy the required materials.  There are protocols when buying books at a college bookstore.  Is there anything easy about this process?  I stood in front of the Spanish section, hoping and praying these were the right books, as I couldn't see my professor's name any where on the signs that say what each class requires.  I forgot a pen and pencil.  I wander around the bookstore looking for those.  What the hell?  They don't sell pens?  I give up and ask the cashier after standing in line for 20 minutes.   She looks at me like I'm an idiot, and at this point, this is exactly how I feel.  She points to a wall behind me.  It's filled with pens.  Hundreds of them.  There are impatient students behind me and picking out a pen with that many choices is not going to be an easy decision.  I give up my place in line while I go and try and figure out what kind of pen I might require.  Now I'm going to be late my first day of class.  Perfect.  And I'm sweaty.

I note that nearly every student is carrying a backpack.  I make a mental note,  I need one of those.  I am the last to arrive in class and I take a seat in the back.  I want to be the teacher's pet and sit in the front so she can see how dedicated I'm going to be, but I'm late and someone else had the same idea I guess.  I try to get settled in my seat silently but of course, that isn't going to happen.  My cell phone goes off.   Some teacher's pet.

My professor is 32 years old.  She has her doctorate in Spanish.  She is no nonsense and takes roll.  I take a moment to look around.  Yep, I'm the oldest.  No surprise here.  She begins immediately with handing out and going through the class syllabus.  I'm not worried.  I'm a good student.  I like school.  Spanish is going to be fun.  She makes it very clear that if you've had Spanish before in high school or if you speak Spanish already, this is not your class.  I feel pretty confident, this IS my class.  I peek around again.  There are at least six, maybe seven Spanish looking kids.  Hmmmm....I am suspicious, with good reason. 

Because it is the first day of school, we are let out early with no lab.  We will get started on Thursday.  I'm not worried.  I'm a good student.  Spanish is going to be fun.

Immediately after school I drive to Sports Authority to find a backpack.  I am attracted to the pink ones.  Thank God, it's the one time I decide to go against my girlish instincts and go with basic black, as I could only imagine with my current nerd status how that would have looked being a 50-year-old freshman.  Sometimes I allow logic to rule.  I then drive to Staples to  purchase notebooks, sticky notes, pens, pencils, notecards and a binder.  I am ready.  I can't wait for Thursday's class.  I know what to expect now and I'm going to wear jeans and my Tom's.  I will fit in.  No one will notice my age.  I'm blending now.

Thursday arrives and I'm ready.  I've been practicing my Spanish accent and counting to 30.  As soon as class begins, I sense I may be over my head.  This non-Spanish speaking class with six or seven suspicious looking Hispanics are already farther along than I am.  La Profesora is speaking in Spanish and asking questions in Spanish.  Que? ...Uh Profesora, Hola? I'm the NON Spanish speaking student,  apparently the ONLY one in the class!  We were paired up the first week and had to ask how old each other was.  Listen, I've only learned to count up to treinta and I wasn't going to say the number 50 out loud to anyone, so when it was my turn I used my best Spanish accent and replied, "Nonya..."

I have made friends with a sweet Somalian girl who feels sorry for me and has decided to mentor me.
I'm quite impressed with her maturity.  Her story, her parent's story, are remarkable and it's easy to admire her dedication to improving her life and her passion for human rights.  We now have a routine at our break between our class and lab.  We walk to the Starbucks and get a coffee together.  I know how old she is, she knows my age and yet somehow, there doesn't seem to be a gap of several generations.  We are just classmates complaining about how hard Spanish is and between us, we are solving global issues to bring about world peace.

But back to my Spanish class.  There's this girl.  She's young, she's beautiful, she looks Hispanic.  Uh huh...She's a fake.  She knows Spanish and she's working the "A." I'm almost 100% certain her parents speak fluent Spanish, because A) She's Hispanic!  If this class is graded on a curve, I'm screwed.  She and her other so-called, "I don't know Spanish" friends have ruined my curve.  She knows the answers, speaks with a perfect accent and isn't afraid to be called on.  I, on the other hand am praying La Profesora doesn't notice I haven't contributed in class today.  But this girl, she is young and needs to shut the pie hole.  Because of her, la Profesora thinks we are all that advanced.  I'm plotting her demise.  If I could just find out her weakness....

I have found that Spanish is causing me a great deal of anxiety every class period.  I'm so terrified of being called upon to speak a complete sentence that I leave the class every week with a stomach ache.  I had my first exam last week and was certain I was going to bomb it.  I studied so hard and finally had an "aha" moment when I figured out how to use the correct tense of the verb forms we've learned so far.  It takes me ten minutes to formulate a simple sentence on paper and I can't possibly conjure it in my head to speak it. My entire house is covered in Post-it notes as I learn the nouns for simple household items.  I would do well in Mexico if I could just point and say a noun.  Unfortunately, there seems to be a lot more to it than knowing the correct word for "toaster" and "coffee maker." I love school, Spanish is fun!

I found out last week that we are on the shortened semester.  Perfect.  No wonder we are moving so fast.  I'm trying to get my groove back, but can we just cut it back a notch?  I went in to the tutoring center and the Spanish tutor was sick. I went for online tutoring and had to ask the tutor to quit speaking so fast and write out what she was saying.  I have to figure this out soon.  It's not just a matter of reading some material in English and memorizing or God forbid, absorbing it and remembering it.  At 50, it feels like my brain has been suspended in a barometric chamber and I'm just now defrosting it to use again.  Taking Spanish is calling upon every slice of gray matter in my head as I must learn to hear it and translate it, read it with comprehension,  speak it with the proper accent,  have others able to understand me, AND construct a composition using the proper grammar and verb conjugation with the correct masculine or feminine forms that also agree in plural or singular.  I should have started with Math, and if you knew me well, you would realize what a punch line that is.  This is definitely challenging my opinion of how smart I thought I was. 

This is my first entry.  I hope all who read it enjoy the journey.  Maybe you can identify with the struggles and be encouraged that you are never too old.  I've decided, 50 is the new 18...freshman that is.  I  appear to be the only one at that campus right now, but I'm sure I won't be the last.  I don't know what I was thinking, but I'm enjoying the challenge, despite the difficulties I'm having, it is fun to speak with an accent, even as I make up words and mix up my masculine and feminine.  I have a lot of Spanish speaking friends, they are helping...a little.  My mantra every day:  I love school,  I'm a good student, Spanish is fun!  Aiyiyi...