In November of 1985 I got the best birthday gift of all- a phone call from Jill in Norway. The call was short but sweet, considering the expensive overseas charges, especially for a struggling college student. It was just wonderful finally hearing her voice at last.
Our relationship continued with our letters but now extended to verbal contact too. I phoned her for Christmas that year, another short but sweet call, thanking her for her Christmas present: a language book, which promised to teach me to speak Norwegian in only ten minutes a day. I rifled through the flashcards from the book and pasted the tiny word stickers around the house. Everywhere we looked there was a Norwegian word for this and that, from "bathroom" to " stove." If I couldv'r stuck one on the dogs I would have, I was determined to learn a respectable amount of Norwegian to surprise Jill the following summer.
Those holidays were spent quietly at home with family. Jill spent her New Year's Eve curled up on her Mom's sofa, fighting a cold. And as 1986 rang in, and the Big Apple dropped in Times Square, I thought of her. Meeting Jill in 1986 was something to look forward to.
I graduated from the community college with a grade point average of 3.95. One B over two years. I received a standing ovation at graduation, and also won the Alumni Award, an honor which goes to the student who has achieved, both academically and has overcome adversity, not only during the two years in school, but through out life. They gave me a plaque for home and a similar plaque was hung in the school's gym for posterity, along with previous winners.
I had my Associates Degree in Human Services, a far cry from where I started two years ago. I converted doubters into believers along the way, most of all myself, and made some good friends. including Lori, and I was so happy for her too when she received her diploma.
I wasn't ready to stop there. I knew that only an Associates Degree was a start, but it wasn't good enough to get a decent job in the Social Work field. I needed a Bachelor's Degree at the very least, which meant two more years of school.
Lori felt the same way, so we went through the process again, even before graduation. We started looking into universities nearby, something we both could afford and accessible. Lori and I decided we were a team. I was glad she was willing to go wherever I was going, not only because of my transportation but also because we were friends and loved carpooling together. We gave each other support and encouragement,. If we both needed a kick in the pants to stay motivated we offered that too. It was the kind of friendly relationship only we could offer to each other.
I always loved St. Joseph's University in Philadelphia because of their basketball program. Every sports fan in the Philly area has a favorite Big Five school to root for, from St. Joe's to Villanova, Temple, LaSalle or Penn. Growing up, my brothers all had their favorites, all different, so that made for some lively times during basketball season at home.
I could relate to their motto, "The Hawk Will Never Die', admiring their scrappy, underdog attitude and style. Plus I thought the Hawk mascot, wings perpetually flapping during a game, was pretty cool.
But when it came to choosing a school St, Joe's was out. Too expensive and too far to travel everyday.
We didn't want to travel into the city unless we really had to. We applied to numerous colleges and universities, going through the red tape again, applying for more grants and loans, taking the necessary entrance exams, meeting the required people who did the interviews and made the decisions.
We finally decided on West Chester University, a small school in the suburbs. It was a state school, so more affordable. Twenty minutes each way from home, locally respected for it's Social Work program. It was intimate and accessible for the most part, small yet still a university. And the staff seemed friendly when we visited.
The converted farmhouse on the south side of the sprawling campus was where most of my core classes would be held. To my dismay there were several steps to contend with, a key factor since this would be where my Social Work classes would be held.
Soon that obstacle would be eliminated, even before I was accepted. Word got around and several students built a ramp , which would be a permanent fixture for other students using wheelchairs to gain access as well in the future.
I was impressed by their appreciation that I had sparked awareness of the problem and the fact they did something about fixing it. I was even more impressed when I met Mrs. Joyner, a young, friendly and outgoing woman who was the head of the Social Work program. She laughed when I naively asked if my 3.95 GPA was good enough to consider admission. She never let me forget that . I guess we impressed each other.
In the end both Lori and I were accepted at West Chester. We couldn't wait to get started, excited about the upcoming two years. More hard work awaited, even harder than anything before. But, "no pain, no gain" as I knew so well in my life.
There would be times we would struggle. There would be internships to do, sort of on the job training sessions for each semester.. Taking classes during the summers would not be fun, wishing we were near a cool ocean breeze instead of in a hot, stuffy classroom for three hours each morning, cramming fifteen weeks of course into five, just to make our classes fit into our schedule.
But we still had our eye on the prize- that diploma. Since we had both achieved success it made us want more. Now I knew I could do it, which encouraged me even more. The ultimate goal was becoming more visible, that light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter all the time.
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