Did I tell you?
I've decided to go back to school. I start in the fall. I was going to major in elementary education, but I changed my mind. Instead, I'm going back to my original major, English.
Back, many years ago--two--I was going to a community college with the dreams of acquiring an associates in English. After getting my associates, I planned to transfer to a university to get my teaching degree. At this time, though, I was working part-time and raising my two boys, so most (if not all) of my classes needed to be taken online. Unfortunately, Frederick Community College only offers a handful of classes online. So, I changed my major to General and ended up completing 30-something hours of college. (I think I have 36 hours under my belt.)
Then, we moved.
We will have been living here in beautiful Georgia for two years in October. I decided a few weeks ago that it's time. I should go back to school, finish my associates and then transfer to Georgia State.
This time, I'm excited to say, the college I chose, Georgia Perimeter College, offers almost ALL of their courses ONLINE!!!!! (Even speech, which I thought was a little odd.)
So, I decided to register. Which I did. But I decided to change my major again...to elementary education. Why? Because you don't have to be a genius to teach.
Okay, that didn't come out right. What I meant to say is it's really easy to get a job as a teacher because there just isn't enough people willing to work for apples. I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I will be "chosen."
By the way, I should mention that I do NOT intend to go back to work until all three of my children are in school.
So, what do I really want to do? I want to change my major back to English. I want to write...for money. I want to be part of a magazine, or a newspaper. I want to edit, critique or review. I want to be able to travel--again, this is way, way in the future--to far away places. I want to write a best-selling novel that is translated into seven other languages and featured on Oprah, which will lead to throngs of unhappy housewives running out to their local Borders and picking up my book to forget their uninteresting lives. I want to sign those books, and tell those women I was once in their place, and I never settled--never gave up!
These are just dreams, though. I'm taking baby steps. I'm taking a few courses at a community college.
Fortunately, though, I'm dreaming again.
Back in High School I fantasized about becoming a famous author/artist. I was voted "Most Creative" in Pass Christian High School's class of '96. I was featured in "Coast" magazine for the same reason, chosen by my principal and art teacher. I won an essay contest and got my picture in the "Sun Herald," the Mississippi Gulf Coast's newspaper. I won first place in a poetry contest at my schools literary fair. I placed second in a state art competition. (I would have won first, I think, if my subject weren't so risque. I did a block print of a dominatrix. It was beautiful. She sat atop a mountain of skulls and held a wipe in her hand. I printed her in black ink against red mulberry paper. My friend won first. They thought her picture was of a Native American. It was a punk rocker with a mohawk. She didn't correct them.)
I guess what I'm trying to say is if you knew me in high school, you would've said, "that girl is going places!" Instead of going to college, I joined the Air Force. I forgot about my silly little dreams the first night of basic training.
So, instead of taking the easy road and training for a guaranteed job, I'm going to work hard and try to become that adult I imagined I would be. It'll be difficult, and most likely my inner voice will continuously assault me with criticism and doubt, but I'm going to try. I don't want to settle.
This does NOT mean I will stop knitting or sewing. Just the opposite, I think. School is exercise from the brain--the whole brain. Everything will benefit.
I should also mention I got the idea to go back to school because I have "mommy-brain." Lately I've been struggling to find the right words. I have been forgetting things. My brain is lazy. Most of my conversations are with an almost-five-year-old who pronounces "thing" as "sing." We discuss Spongebob. And Super Mario.
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