Acceptance Ltr

A college acceptance letter landed in my mailbox yesterday. Seeing the University of North Dakota letterhead, scanning the congratulatory text, my eyes dropped to the bottom of the page and I felt little woozy with the sudden rise of panic.

Some people hyperventilate with fear and, in all seriousness, I envy such composure. Because I’m a plop-down-on-the-floor-can’t -catch-my-breath nervous crier.

UND sent the one-page letter of congratulations and attached the civil engineering degree requirements. That was the kicker: the degree requirements. I scanned the list which included three semesters of calculus, fluid mechanics, a course in reinforced concrete. The class titles hit the back of my brain and crumpled me up with a feeling of dread. Given the drama of falling to the floor to cry, I can’t say this was a small moment exactly. I felt wildly ill-prepared, and was gonna’ need a minute here...you know...on the floor. Maybe two.

I sat there wondering what could possibly compel me to do this sort of thing? Suddenly lurch toward aspects of this world, fields of study, I know so little of. Embrace the likelihood of failure on my part, for what? Why, on earth, would University of North Dakota look at my application, my academic history, and then say "OK"? Who reads these applications anyway?

I tried to quell my woozy brain with phrases like earning potential, and career advancement. But the words just flopped down on the floor next to me. It takes a minute, or two, before I can remember . It has to do with seeing more of the world around me. The quiet sense of surprise that comes along for the academic ride. Being introduced to new ideas and thoughts I haven’t considered before. Reading a textbook or scribbling notes during a lecture and thinking: huh, is that right?

Eventually the screen door closed itself. I quit crying. Remembered to breathe then chuckled at the irony of falling to the floor to cry over being accepted to the degree program. Dusted my butt as I got up off the floor and went into the kitchen to get dinner ready.

It’s hard to mention that moment in my entry way and in the next breath say I’m excited. Brace your neck for whiplash, though, because I am. I’m excited. My academic adviser calls sometime next week, and classes start at the end of this month. I have a lot to learn.