At the age of 40, I returned to college to get my Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Arts, or English Literature to be exact. While that may seem to many people like a study that has no real purpose, I quickly point out that it is a difficult major. Just as science, math, and business, an English Literature degree requires a great deal of study and dedication to acquire. As a student of this particular subject I had to learn to read differently. I learned not just to read a story for entertainment, but to identify deeper meanings within the words.
As an artist uses different hews of the same color to create shadows, a skilled writer will use words within phrases to create double meanings. Symbolism, archetypes, metaphors, similes, these are just a few of the first things that I learned as I read the classical masters.
My favorite author in literature quickly became Nathaniel Hawthorne. He had a way to weave a story so deeply in my mind that I could not leave it with the last word on the page. I lived his characters over and over in my mind for days after having finished the story. And even though I had been writing stories myself, including publishing a novel, I had never dissected any story and looked at it back to front as I did in my literature studies during college.
Some friends of mine told me they would rather go to the dentist twice in one day than to read all the books on my required reading list. Actually at times I felt much the same. I dragged through Gertrude Stein with concrete in my shoes as the instructor hailed her majesty as works of art. I learned to appreciate her work, but never really enjoyed any of it. It seemed the more far fetched I “interpreted” her work, the better grades I got. That is not really understanding her work as much as using my seven year old imagination to sprinkle a confetti of possible interpretations over a minimum word count essay. Some of the epic poetry studies bored me to tears, but I survived it. Shakespeare was tortured reading for me because, let’s face it, it’s not written in modern English language, therefore, it reminded me of a foreign language.
There are certainly things about returning to college classes that I hated. I disliked being closer to the age of the moms of the students. I was several times at the beginning of the semester mistaken for a teacher. Then there were the standard required classes of math and language. Math in general made me miserable. If I could have written an essay for math and passed, I would have been in heaven. Letters and numbers don’t belong together and Algebra will forever perplex me.
I barely passed the Spanish classes, and the teacher did so purely out of pity and not wanting me to return the following year into her class. My lips and tongue were not meant to roll the “r” and my old brain leaked information and resisted learning the conjugate the tenses of the Spanish language. I struggled more than any freshman student in class and in the end, the Freshmen were tutoring me just so I could pass.
Overall, I loved this time back in college. Even when I had 12 essays due because I stupidly took five English courses one year. My advisor tried to talk me out of it, but I insisted. I did well. But I spent every moment when not asleep, day and night, reading and writing. For me, even with overwhelming work and deadlines, I loved it. I cried when it came to an end. I never enjoyed anything more in my life except for becoming a mom.
No classes I could have taken would have prepared me better for a job requiring analysis and critical thinking than English Literature. I have never had to think so hard in my life. Pulling apart a manuscript and identifying the structure, plot, allegory, metaphors, character archetypes, symbolism, and even style of the authors in general requires a lot of patience and attention to detail. Analyzing a story in pieces can give the reader an entirely different view on the outcome of the story. Learning about the author writing the story can also clue the reader to certain recurrent symbols shown in their stories.
So, when someone makes a remark about my degree and what good is that for preparation in the work place, I just smile. I developed more patience, dedication, and analytical thinking skills during my years studying English Literature than I ever thought possible. I have used these skills to analyze situations, to recognize people’s skills and potential, prioritize needed actions, and determine possible outcomes that help me meet challenges better prepared. Without a doubt, I would do it all again. At any age, it’s never to late to learn new skills.
sherrystruthtofiction 