Penny Post #22: Back to School
Here I come...
Back to school season is upon us. Or perhaps it has been upon us since the beginning of the summer when the ads started to roll out even though the last school year hadn’t yet ended and the thought of going “back” to school is dread-worthy yet dull because it’s still far away. Regardless, back to school season is certainly upon me.
This is the first fall in over twenty years that I have not gone back to school. This is the first fall in over twenty years where I have not made a trip to Staples, found overpriced school supplies, brought those overpriced school supplies to a classroom in which I nervously decide where to sit, introduced myself to a teacher and peers whom over I quickly passed judgements, and stressed about the first homework assignment.
Suddenly there are no classrooms nor teachers nor institutions. There are just offices and my supervisors and more institutions.
Suddenly there are no binders nor grades nor deadlines. There are just excel spreadsheets and supervisory meetings and consequences.
Suddenly there are no teacher pets nor exams nor recess. There are just your enemies and work assessments and a lonely lunch break.
The same yet different. Am I prepared for what’s beyond “back to school”?
I’ve done the very adult things that they don’t teach you in school.
I financed an apartment. I purchased renter’s insurance. I bought wifi. I put together Ikea furniture for said rental. I switched health insurance. I found my tax bracket. I have a credit score.
I’ve also done the very human things that I learned in school.
I’ve taken notes to train for a new job. I’ve been assessed at said job. I’ve had to communicate delicately and effectively with supervisors and co-workers. I’ve had to interact with strangers. I’ve had to figure out which thing I need to buy and which thing I want to buy. I’ve had to figure out how to balance all the facets of human-hood. Plus, I’ve woken up early.
Call me a hero.
Yet there are no grades nor teachers to tell me how well I’m doing nor measure my success’ amongst other drowning post-graduates. My teacher is now the stranger on the motorcycle who I don’t see before he gives me a wonderfully decorative middle finger. My teacher is now my supervisor who nervously gives me a hug when she can see my hurt. My teacher is now my boyfriend who patiently explains to me what the hell credit even is. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had teachers like that before. The teachers beyond “back to school” are more abrupt and tattooed than I’ve ever witnessed.
I’m away from school and yet I’m also back at it. The school is no longer one or even several buildings, but everywhere I go. The teachers are no longer bespectacled and paid, but everyone I encounter. The homework is no longer on paper with a due date, but in all forms due at all times.
It’s weird to know both how prepared and wholly unprepared I was for how life both mirrors and negates what I’ve spent twenty years studying.
My mom asked me the other day if I miss going “back to school” and although I wanted to say yes, the truth was no. I don’t miss it. Maybe I don’t miss it because I don’t want to see another midterm exam ever again, but maybe I don’t miss it because I never left. Yes, I “graduated” and received a degree and yadda yadda, but school doesn’t go away. I never left it because it never left me.
Talk to me next week when I make the trek back to South Bend. I might feel differently…
Until then,
K