Photos: 1998, 1989
As a “smart kid,” it was always assumed I would go to college. It was also assumed that my college choice would be the University of North Alabama, which was within walking distance of my alma mater, Coffee High School.
Looking back, it’s shocking to me that no one was talking about college and career goals. No one was talking about my future -- not my guidance counselor, not my parents, not my friends, not me.
It wasn’t until the second semester of my senior year of high school that I started thinking about maybe going to college somewhere other than UNA. I researched Montevallo and Vanderbilt … but it was just me briefly entertaining the possibility of life outside of the Shoals.
UNA was a no-brainer because it’s where my best friend was planning to attend … truthfully, most of my friends weren’t planning to go to college at all. They were more excited about entering the local workforce, which was thriving in the late 1980s.
It’s funny how hindsight works. I sabotaged myself in so many ways during my first year at UNA. I thought I was grown but wow, I was so immature. I thought I was so smart but wow, I was ignorant. So many bad decisions.
The downward spiral started when I moved out of my parents’ house. Other than being delusional and anxious to launch myself into adulthood and embrace what I thought was freedom, I had no reason to move out.
My parents have always been phenomenal and it wasn’t an ugly, dramatic scene, but they strongly encouraged me to stay home. I didn’t listen. I should have. Instead, I put myself in a situation where I had to start paying bills, buying groceries – taking care of myself. I wasn’t mature enough to make good decisions.
Yes, like most of my friends, I got a job ... in addition to enrolling full-time at UNA. So, first semester at UNA, my priorities were partying with my non-college student friends and working so I could afford to party and have a place to sleep. Class attendance wasn’t even on my to-do list most days.
I was in over my head almost immediately after moving out. My parents had no point of reference to help them understand how I was living. They didn’t even know the right questions to ask in order to try to get me back on track.
Needless to say, first I was placed on academic probation and academic suspension soon followed. I can honestly say, it didn’t bother me at all that I was kicked out of school.
In the 18 months after basically burning my bridge as a student at UNA, I met my future husband, got married and had my first son.
It wasn’t until after I had my second son in 1995 that I had matured enough to realize the brevity of my disastrous college experience. I was heartbroken by how I had frivolously sold myself short.
Although I had a fully-developed adult life with a full-time job and a young family, I set my sights on doing whatever it took to get back in school.
I worked hard to right my wrong. I wrote letter after letter and jumped through every hoop to be accepted once again at UNA.
From the moment I stepped back on campus, I savored every second and envisioned my future as an educated, enlightened, college graduate.
My mindset was so different than it had been before … I was a student by choice not simply because it was my assumed path as a successful high school student. I had purpose and drive … I was a student because I felt as if I had to graduate in order to be fulfilled.
I don’t know if it’s because I was older than a traditional freshman or if times had changed that much in the six years since I had graduated high school, but the second time around, I was asked about my interests and my career goals.
I chose to pursue my love – history. My high school history teacher, Harry Wallace, instilled in me a love of history that’s still burning in me today. Choosing to study what I love was pivotal to me staying the course, making all As and earning my degree.
In addition to being a full-time student double majoring in history and political science, I worked full-time as a manager at a retail store, and had two small children and a husband.
It brings tears to my eyes to think about my UNA family from back then. They never minded when I had to bring my oldest son to class. My professors, my fellow students – we were there for each other. They were there for me over and over when I was so tired that I wanted to give up.
Some clichés are true: It’s never too late. Nothing is impossible. Everyone deserves a second chance.
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