Earlier this year I decided that it was time to go back to school. I graduated from high school 21 years ago, and completed three aimless semesters on community college. Now, at 39 years old, I have found myself back in the classroom.
For a student my schedule is light. 6 credit hours. I have a class on Tuesday night and Thursday night. When I registered for my two classes I remember thinking, “this is perfect. One class that I know I’ll struggle in and one class that will come fairly easy for me.” I thought they would balance each other, and I would have no problems at all. Well, I had the thought correct, but the classes switched. I thought I would struggle in the math class, and breeze through the writing class. Ha! I am maintaining a high “A” in my math class and am on track to finish the course work within weeks. The writing class . . . totally different story.
Creative writing has always come easily to me. I can write poems and stories with little effort. But my writing class is a completely different beast. Research. Objectivity. Neither of those things are strengths in my writing. In the end the class will benefit me, and the rest of my education. But the one thing I know I’m good at feels completely foreign.
To be honest, I considered dropping the class, but didn’t for a few reasons. First, I’m going to have to take the class no matter what. It’s basically a prerequisite for everything. Second, I knew that I would encounter classes that would be challenging so why give up before I got started. Third, what kind of example would I be setting for my son? And finally, God says he will get his children through the difficult times, but that does not mean the road will be easy. He will be the light on the path, but it’s up to me to follow his light wherever he leads.
So, I could look at this challenge in one of two ways . . . I can give in to the challenge and quit. Or, I can rise to the challenge and come out stronger on the other side.
Besides, if I can’t get through one little challenging writing class, how can I expect myself to (hopefully, one day) work with the children at St. Jude who are up against the fight for their lives.
Until next time . . .