You Don't Need No Education

Growing up, I was told college was a waste of time. Both of my parents left school after the eighth grade. My father thought hard work was the way to a good life. He owned a farm he had saved and paid cash for. In addition to farming his land, he had steady employment in a factory. What was good enough for him, was good enough for me. He was a strong, commanding force and no one contradicted him, yet I secretly held on to my dream of going to college.

My young, naïve mind thought I could get married and then go back to school. I started dating one of those guys mothers often warn their daughters about. I loved spending time with him. His life seemed so exciting and carefree. We got married shortly after graduating high school. My father actually approved of my new husband; after all, he had a good paying factory job. Unfortunately, the dream life I expected soon turned into a nightmare.

A job transfer took us to another state. I was twenty-three, all alone in a rural area with no car, and alienated from anyone who might tell me about my husband’s extracurricular activities. I became a talented actress, convincing everyone back home that I had a good marriage. I was ashamed to admit how unhappy my life really was.

Four years later, my husband changed jobs and moved us again, this time to Dallas. We lived in a city full of possibilities, yet they eluded me. I was twenty-seven years old, a stay-at-home mom with two children, and wife of an absentee husband.

My husband rarely came home from work on time, if at all. He was either out drinking with his friends or spending the night with one of his multitude of female followers. When he did bother to come home, he would pick a fight the moment he walked in the door. I knew he was doing this to assuage his own guilt, still his mind games worked. I had no self-esteem and no confidence in my ability to change my circumstances. I was enduring life, not living it. I had gone from a father who was very good at taking away my self-worth, to a husband who was equally as talented. I was in hell and couldn’t find the exit.

On one of the rare occasions my husband invited friends to our house for dinner, I met Judy. Judy was my age, and had recently gone back to school to become a nurse. She saw my interest in education and urged me to sign up for classes. I was too timid to talk to a guidance counselor, or even find the administration building. Yet, Judy had planted a seed in my mind, and it grew.

Before the next fall semester, I ran into Judy again. She volunteered to drive me to the local community college and help me register. There was a time when I would have asked my husband permission, however, this time I didn’t. My desire to learn brought out a daring side to my personality. By that afternoon, I was a college student.

My husband was not happy with my decision. There were many one-sided discussions about my dropping classes and getting back to taking care of home and hearth. I remained firm in my resolve. Each time I was told I had to quit school, I became more determined.

After two semesters, I maintained a 4.0 grade average. I was good at this school thing. I realized I didn’t need to look at my toes when in public, I could hold my head high and be proud of my accomplishments. I also understood that it was imperative to be happy, not only for me, but also for my children.

Third semester finals were in progress when my husband said those life-changing words, “quit school today or I’m leaving.” I didn’t walk up the stairs; I took them two at a time, dragged down our largest suitcase, and packed for him.

When I closed the door on my marriage, self-doubt reared its ugly head. It told me I was responsible for two children, with no practical experience, no job, and very little money. My new-found confidence shoved those nasty doubts out of my head. It told me I could take care of my children and myself. I knew I would find a way, and I did.

Blue Cross and Blue Shield hired me for the graveyard shift, even provided me with the training necessary to pay medical claims. I would go home in the morning, wake my children, get them off to school, and then go to class. It wasn’t an easy schedule, in fact, there were many times I considered dropping my classes, but that would be admitting defeat. Difficult as it was, I finally realized my dream.

I am a self-confessed dreamer. After all, what is life without a dream? I plan to keep on dreaming. When I’m bent from age and barely able to shuffle my feet, if I need to take more classes, I will. Scoot over youngsters, I bet I would still be good at that school thing.

Story ID:	3583
Written by:	Betty (BJ) Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Dallas TX USA
Year:	1977