If you spot me with a funny expression on my face, please forgive me. I’m a little lost these days.
You see, one of the best presents I have ever received arrived the week before Christmas. It doesn’t shine or sparkle, come with instructions or need an allen key to assemble. But it did cost a fair bit of money — a lot more than I like to think about, actually.
I wrote my last final exam to complete the final semester of my bachelor’s degree. When the calendar switched over to 2012, I stumbled upon the first year in eight that I will not be taking undergraduate courses.
I’ve been honourably discharged after an exceptionally long tour of academic duty, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself after such a long period of time devoted to one thing. One of my favourite movie lines of all time can be found in Tommy Boy, when David Spade’s character mocks the newly minted college grad for taking so long to complete his studies.
“Lots of people go to school for seven years,” Chris Farley says in his defence.
“Yeah, they’re called doctors,” Spade retorts.
Apparently part-time students must suffer the fate of dim-witted jocks. It took me a full seven years to complete my degree. After the last tasks of the work day were done, I would trudge off to class for the night, often not returning home until 11 p.m. That was when homework awaited.
Nothing says “Your youth is over” quite like trading in the strobe light at the bar on Friday nights for the flickering lights signifying the library is about to close.
You enrol in subjects sheerly because they are required. For me, those were geology courses: rocks and clouds. I could wax poetic on how valuable these courses were to broadening my horizons, but I won’t. After a while, you eventually see them like you do a splinter: a mild irritant that’s bound to be temporary. The trick is to pass the class so you don’t have to repeat the pain.
As my friends bought houses, got married and had families, I churned out papers and studied for exams. I would hibernate each semester, declining each invitation for birthday parties or celebrations held during midterms.
They say education is an investment in oneself, and I’m inclined to agree. I just wish it didn’t come with such sticker shock.
My records revealed a frightening figure: $18,168.75. This is how much I paid the university in tuition — not including things like skyrocketing fees, books or supplies. A conservative estimate of the total cost is in the ballpark of $25,000, without counting so-called extras like food or housing. I count my blessings, because, despite not being backed by the Bank of Mom and Dad, I completed my studies without student loans.
Don’t take this as me being all Debbie Downer on post-secondary education. After those really bad days at work that have a way of haunting your thoughts all night, going to class was like hitting a reboot button as you debated the religions of India, crime and punishment or post-modern literature with others.
Without school, there’s no imminent distraction at hand. There was no class called How to Take It Easy 101 to teach me how to sit still, read leisurely for fun and disregard the feeling that I should be doing something, because surely there’s an assignment due next week …
Those are lessons I must teach myself. Perhaps with time, I’ll get top marks.
Simone Blais has earned a bachelor of arts with an English major.
