Fifteen Years Late (or, The Challenges of Adult Education)

I am intelligent.

It's a simply matter of fact... possibly a minutia of ego.

Possibly.

I consume and retain information quite readily for someone my age, when the mind is not as malleable as it once was. I don't balk at analytical problems nor do I have any difficulty processing data and formulating independent theories on what I've picked up.

And, yet, I am afraid.

As the date on which I return to school approaches, I find myself experiencing a rapidly developing fear... palpable, thick, settling abruptly as a cast-iron fog.

I. am. old.

And, honestly, before anyone says anything about the early thirties not being old, let me clarify. I am fifteen years behind the standard college entry age. I am much older than the average student, the same average student with whom I will be competing academically. I plan on pushing straight through to a Master's... and will, subsequently, have to apply for internships also being sought after by younger, more adaptable minds.

This... this is where the seed of fear is nurtured. I cannot fathom how much harder and more thorough my studies are going to have to be. Additionally, I'll have two toddlers who need their father, a wedding to plan, a marriage to build and enjoy... all while being a full-time student. Other students will have parties as distractions; I'll have life.

I have no desire to turn back, mind you. However, this feeling will be ever present through the course of my career as a student. I will fear... no, I do feel inferior to those students who are fresh out of highschool, who haven't forgotten their lessons, who are simply continuing their education without more than a summer break.

I'm beginning to understand the pressure many adults express as a concern when attempting collegial courses later in life. I can only hope that I'll be able to pass through it and push my way through to a better, more fulfilling set of life experiences.