Friends, Romans, and Fellow Students,

    Going college. 

    Going college should be read like "going native," because I’ve gone college, so much so that when my grown kids found out that I made my first “F” (since first grade) they wanted to know who I was “hanging out with” and “was I doing drugs?” 

    “The only drugs I do is iron, for my iron poor blood,” I said.  And then,  “Hey, don’t you trust me?”
   
    And the reason I made an “F” is because I handed in a half finished essay and I deserved it.  I just ran out of steam.  That’s why I take iron, so I won’t run out of steam.  And the reason I got two parking tickets—one for parking in a faculty parking spot and one for having an expired parking permit is because my school is profiling me.  Just because my truck is the biggest vehicle in the parking lot and has all its doors the campus police are singling me out.  That and the fact that I’m an old, white chick with a big truck.

    While I was trying to pay my tickets the other day, I got another ticket for not paying my tickets fast enough.

    When I told the girls in my Baroque and Renaissance Humanities class that I was coming up on fifty, they looked horrified because 1)  old age might be catching 2) they thought I was ninety  3) they’d never seen a grandmother wearing skinny jeans and a poncho purchased from the Home Shopping Network before.

    The other day in a group discussion I took a pretty bold stand and declared, “Listen up, I have scars older than most of you, and I bring true diversity to this campus.  You should see my big truck.”

    Here is a sample of the kind of stuff that passes for writing these days at your community college (our professor used this as an example of ‘how not to’ write an essay.)  Please Note:   I DID NOT MAKE THIS UP. 

                        This paiting was very different for the paitings in the gallery and really caught my attention, the face & torso was made by pencil with as much details and the artist could provide, and the rest of the paiting including half of the shit (here the essayist meant to write shirt but got distracted by a text message, no doubt) was made in color, with a very retro vive;  her face, her hair, neck, and half of the body was made in pencil witch made the portrait black and white . . . (There was more but I can’t go on.  I just can’t.)

    Dr. Brown refers to this bit of writing as the Bullshirt Witch Paiting essay. And that’s the update from your local publicly funded community college.  Frankly, I’m very impressed that Dr. Brown hasn’t gone mad.

    We can therefore conclude that going back to college is a mind expanding experience that increases the number of parking tickets one receives and can greatly enlarge an individual’s vocabulary.  I now use the word bullshirt daily, and that’s going college for you.

Linda (The New Girl) Zern 
 

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