My foreman said: “You're 28. You're going to be 32 when you graduate. What's the point?”
I said: “I'm going to be 32 anyway.”
He didn't have an answer.
I'm not running from the plant. The plant is fine. It pays the bills. It gave me a job when I needed one. But I don't want to weld until my back gives out. I want options. I want to be able to sit at a desk someday. Maybe. Or not. But I want to choose.
I'm showing my daughter something. She's seven. She watches me study. She asks what I'm learning. She draws me pictures while I write. She thinks college is normal. She thinks her dad going to school is normal. I want her to think that. I want her to know that you can start things at any age.
I'm not the only one. There's a woman in my psych class who's 55. She's raising her granddaughter. She's taking two classes. She works at a nursing home. She says: “I'm doing this for her. So she knows we don't give up.”
We don't give up.
I'm scared. I'm scared I'm too old. I'm scared I'm too slow. I'm scared my brain doesn't work the way it used to. But I'm also scared of staying the same. Of being 32 and still at the plant. Of never knowing what I could have done.
My daughter said: “You can do hard things, Daddy.”
She's seven. She's right. I'm doing the hard thing. I'm going to be 32 anyway. I'm going to be 32 with a degree.
I said: “I'm going to be 32 anyway.”
He didn't have an answer.
I'm not running from the plant. The plant is fine. It pays the bills. It gave me a job when I needed one. But I don't want to weld until my back gives out. I want options. I want to be able to sit at a desk someday. Maybe. Or not. But I want to choose.
I'm showing my daughter something. She's seven. She watches me study. She asks what I'm learning. She draws me pictures while I write. She thinks college is normal. She thinks her dad going to school is normal. I want her to think that. I want her to know that you can start things at any age.
I'm not the only one. There's a woman in my psych class who's 55. She's raising her granddaughter. She's taking two classes. She works at a nursing home. She says: “I'm doing this for her. So she knows we don't give up.”
We don't give up.
I'm scared. I'm scared I'm too old. I'm scared I'm too slow. I'm scared my brain doesn't work the way it used to. But I'm also scared of staying the same. Of being 32 and still at the plant. Of never knowing what I could have done.
My daughter said: “You can do hard things, Daddy.”
She's seven. She's right. I'm doing the hard thing. I'm going to be 32 anyway. I'm going to be 32 with a degree.
