Students 'Like Me'

By Andrea Green
Motlow Buzz Contributing Writer

         During a recent visit to Hobby Lobby, I had an interesting exchange with a stranger. As I was walking toward my car, my arms laden with bags of holiday décor, I was approached by a haggard-looking woman. Her appearance suggested pure exhaustion: tousled hair, a misbuttoned shirt, and a screaming toddler secured to her right hip. A second child slowly trailed behind her banging his Superman toy against car bumpers. The cacophonous trio caused several shoppers to take notice. I smiled at the woman, and was surprised to see her not only smile in return, but change course and approach me.  

         As I placed my various bags in the trunk of my car, I heard her say, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you go to Motlow? I saw your green sticker.” She nodded toward my parking decal. I told her I taught English at the Smyrna campus. The woman’s face suddenly transformed. Her exhausted expression was replaced with an energized countenance of interest.

Over the screams of the little girl in her arms, she responded, “Oh good! Can I ask you a question? I’m thinking about applying next semester, but I can’t seem to make myself go through with it. Do you have a lot of students like me?”

         Like me.

         I’ve heard this phrase countless times from a specific demographic, but just to be sure I asked her, “What do you mean by like me?”

She replied, “You know, older students. I’ve been out of school for 15 years and I just feel silly going back now. I don’t want to be the only old lady in the room.”

Ahh, serendipity! This woman wasn’t asking just any teacher at Motlow. She was asking a woman who had herself questioned many times if she was going to be the old lady in the room. I didn’t start school until I was 28 years old. For years I allowed insecurities and doubts to hinder me from beginning my education. I related my story of being a non-traditional student at Motlow, and I assured her that I worked with—and had at one point been a student of—some of the best teachers I’d ever encountered. I assured her that never did I feel different. Never did I perceive any judgment about my age. Never was I made to feel like I didn’t belong, and never was I made to feel like I was a failure for not attending school at an earlier age.

         I welcomed her to visit our campus and see how many students like her we actually had. At the end of our conversation, she was still physically exhausted. The toddler’s screams had increased in both volume and severity, and the little boy was angrily tugging on her free arm. In her eyes, however, resided a refreshed and renewed look of hope. She thanked me, and as she walked away I heard her tell her children, “Mommy’s going to school! Yes, she is! She’s going to be a nurse!”  

         Unfortunately, this woman’s concern about being stigmatized as a nontraditional student is a quite common narrative. The stories vary, of course. Some are stymied by issues with family, illness, or myriad other obstacles. Others may actively choose to wait because they enjoy their current jobs. I’ve taught veterans who start their education after four, eight and even twenty years in the armed forces. Often, these students erroneously think that their experiences as mothers, fathers, cashiers, factory workers, and soldiers won’t have any real value in a classroom.

As a former student and current faculty member, I work to assure these students that Motlow welcomes them with open arms. Most of the non-traditional individuals I’ve encountered are studious, diligent, inquisitive (all those adjectives teachers used to describe GOOD students). They are usually very successful in my classes despite their insecurities about their age. Our society touts education, education, education; however, we also simultaneously purports the expectation that college should be attended (if you do it the right way) directly after high school. The reality is that we have a society full of adults who, for whatever reason, have waited to enter higher education.

         I laud my non-traditional students for their courage to go back to school. What I’ve failed to do is to help these students see that their situation really isn’t that a-typical. They are not, as one nontraditional student joked, Billy Madison sitting in a kindergarten classroom. More importantly, they aren’t taking a time-out from their ‘real’ lives. Motlow is merely a transition from one path to another in their personal journey. My colleagues and I don’t care if our students are 16 or 60. We’re here to help.  

(Andrea Green is an English professor on the Smyrna Campus.)