Graduate class?

The epiphany of where do I go next, what do I do next with my life that I was anticipating would become clear to me during my 19-week maternity leave with Allen never came, much to my disappointment.

Instead it might have kind of dribbled in—I’m still trying to decide whether this is it—at a doctor’s office in July while I was waiting my turn to be checked for what turned out be a humongous unfortunately placed underground “volcanic” zit on my breast. A consequence of nursing? Maybe, probably. But it was definitely not an abscess as I had feared when I rushed to make the doctor’s appointment. Opting not to read various pregnancy, baby, parenting, etc. magazines, I spotted an issue of Historic Preservation magazine. An odd choice for an ob-gyn waiting room, but well within my scope of interest. Historic preservation is one of these life-long affinities I have had, but have never acted on for different reasons.

I couldn’t get historic preservation out of my head since then. I considered starting a historic preservation blog. I even thought of a title (or does a blog have a name?): “yesterday’s places, today’s spaces.” Last week, I started trolling UMCP’s website, looking at their Historic Preservation courses. Last time I checked a few years ago, Historic Preservation used to be a Certificate. Now, it’s a Master’s program within the School of Architecture. I debated. Then on Monday night, on a whim, I composed an email to the head of the program who also teaches the intro graduate seminar whether it would be possible to attend a class. This is the first week of the fall semester. So it was either do it now, or wait until next year.

He responded first thing in the morning to come in.

I went to class last night. It was a test, a pilot of sorts. It was weird being in a classroom of 22 students, most of whom had obviously just finished their undergrad. They looked so young, so fresh. They asked stupid questions, but of key importance to them, about grading, and class work, and papers. Info that seemed so trivial to me. I felt old. “What am I doing here,” I wondered. I guess one doesn’t realize how much one has aged and matured until she’s put in a setting with actual, fresh-faced, young people. There was another older woman in the class. I’m sure she was older than me. I felt in between.

I loved the class. I loved the topics the professor went over. I loved the syllabus he covered. I loved the documentary about the move of Cape Hatteras, which really showed and summed up a number of issues in historic preservation. I loved the discussion that ensued, even though some of the cheeky, fresh-faced comments some students said made me realize that I’m too jaded, too older for the idealistic, open-minded, broad-based debate that universities foster. ‘Cause real life is more like high school than college, which is, unfortunately, the stark reality.

And now I find myself seriously considering signing up for the class as an Advanced Special Student. And then I promptly start doubting myself: Am I crazy? What am I doing? Why would I do this? This is so selfish. I can barely handle a full time job. I would anyway rather be at home than working, and now I want to add school to the mix as well? My guilt trip will consume me (well, at least the class is at night, when the kids are in bed, theoretically asleep, at least). If anything, I should devote myself more to work and building the career that I have underway now (in online communications) instead of starting something new. Would I be able to complete all the class work, readings, papers, and all? Do I want to do this? We can’t afford it. Andy’s tuition remission wouldn’t cover it. We don’t have $1800 for this: hello croaked A/C, what about new windows, how about a vacation within, let’s say, the next two years? And now I want to spend money on a class? To achieve what? Apply for another Master’s? And really go through the entire application process, GREs and all? What if I don’t get accepted? I can't afford another masters? Too expensive and too time consuming to do it part time. I’m just about to pay off my graduate student loans, and that soon-to-be freed up cash has already been slated to be put in a 529 plan for the kids, not for me.

I want to be there for the kids. They're growing up so fast. I want to be spending all my free time with them, not reading about decrepit buildings.

Yet I keep thinking about it. One of my life-goal plans has been to get a Ph.D. So I’m thinking maybe this is it. If I don’t get back in it now, when will I? I’m only getting older. Soon I'll be historic.

Other people’s midlife crises result in an affair, a red convertible, a boob job. Mine is manifesting itself as a return to school.


TBC