So, how can a fifty-something mother of three mostly-grown kids, who lives in the rural middle of nowhere as a sometime-hermit, claim this as her “freshman year”?
I mean, didn’t I do that already, many decades and many (geographic) states ago?
Decades ago, I pretty much went where I was told and pretty much spent most of my college time either earning the money to be there or adjusting to a culture which was–well–alien.
This time around, I’m choosing for myself: the “where” (here in my fairly isolated mountain cove). And the “what” of my learning (whatever catches my fancy).
I’ve just sent my last child/student off to college after 25 years of homeschooling. So I’m not only an empty-nester, I’m in major career transition.
There are empty rooms in my house (relatively speaking: still a lot of unfolded laundry piled on your bed, daughter). And there’s space in my brain. For the first fall since I was a very young mother of a very wiggly first toddler, I’m not planning curricula, compiling reading lists, creating schedules.
Well. Except mine.
So what’s a second freshman year?
Ah, that’s what this blog is going to explore.
I hope you’ll tag along for the ride.