I never thought I’d be going back to school. But, after graduating and working for a few years, I realized that I wanted a change. Then, in a move totally unaligned with my indecisive nature, I actually did something about it.
So here I am, into week three of a post-grad college course. One thing is for sure: I feel older than the fresh faced co-eds I see roaming the halls. The baby-fat is long gone from my cheeks. I require regular Pilates sessions to maintain some semblance of a butt.
This whole going back to school thing feels like entering a bizzaro world—a different beast than my undergrad experience. If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to go back to school, or how a college course differs from university, or how that whole education thing works when the students are old enough to actually give a fuck, read on.
This is practical, not philosophical. University courses were all about exploring the why behind a medium, theme or turkey sandwich. Critical thinking is an important skill to have, but in a post-grad course, things are about the how. For the love of god, don’t derail class while you rant about the ethics of illegal downloading for an hour. This is not your third year philosophy seminar. People have things to do.
It’s time to dress like a real person. These are not the pajama-clad days of your undergraduate career. Teachers and classmates will soon become your colleagues, your peers, your superiors. No one here should see your stained cozies.
People actually want to be here. Like most of you, I spent my undergrad sleeping. Of all of my 8AM classes, I attended exactly one. The reason? They were serving free breakfast that morning. In post-grad college courses, if you miss a class, they actually take away marks. Besides, you’ll probably miss something important—not just the aforementioned turkey sandwich debate. If you opt out of classes all willy nilly, in addition to missing out on practical knowledge, you’ll emit the distinct air of not giving a single shit.
Being older is actually great. People, including your teachers, treat you like an adult. Freshmen have smoother skin, but you’ve got a better credit score. Your personal life isn’t (as much of) a wreck. You’re less likely to contract cold sores while doing a keg stand at an off-campus party. Mature student-ing is sort of therapeutic, if only to remind you that things have gotten better. Except the homework. Homework is still the worst.