The print., October 28, 1987, Image 9

“Simprina”
by Sue Eggleston
It was a cold winter morning and I must have been in a midlife
crisis. No other reason could explain why, at age 44,1 was going back
to school.
I hadn't slept well for days, but of coursé today, being the first day
of winter term, I over slept. By the time I got to my car I was running
late, and I never caught up.
It was foggy and freezing and my canvas car cover was frozen to
the car. Ken, my husband, wouldn't be home from work until after
my first class started. So, pulling and screaming and sweating, I had
to get the cover off myself. I had visions of speeding down the
freeway in my 280Z with the green canvas car cover flapping in the
breeze. Time was running out With a herculean effort born of sheer
panic and the humiliation I would feel sporting a canvas cover, I gave
one more tear and the thing came loose. Why I don't pay attention to
the omens I get, instead of bullying my way through, is beyond me.
Now I was really late and definitely needed another shower. The
fog was so thick I couldn't speed. In fact, I could hardly see. Twenty
miles an hour in a sports car on a freeway is not my idea of fun. It was
so foggy I missed my turn off. On a nice sunny summer day the back
way into the college was narrow, winding, and up hill with stop lights
at alTthe steepest places. On a cold, foggy, icy, day it was pure insani­
ty. Being an adult, and in full control of my faculties, I headed
straight for that street like a homing pigeon for its roost. Desperation
breeds survival. I was surprised when I arrived at the college alive.
I was late; my first class started at 8:00 a.m. Because I had gone
with a friend earlier in the week, I knew where to park and where the
elevators were. I couldn't use the stairs because of an old racquetball
injury to my knees. I got inside the building and couldn't find the
elevators. I was running back and forth, three feet this way, three feet
.that way. Finally I stopped. I took two deep breaths to calm myself
and ran out of the building. I totally ignored my aching knees. F ran
around to the front of that building and down a flight of stairs. I con­
tinued around another building, ran inside, up another flight of stairs,
and into the class room. No one was there! The lights weren't even
on. Panic!
I had spent four hours at registration to get my schedule set up,
and now no one was at my first class. I was afraid to leave the hall in
case the class started before I returned. If that happened it would
look like I was late. I sat in the hall until a secretary showed up. She
said class didn't start until 9:30. Panic! I had another class that started
then. Finally, Jim came in and asked what classes I wanted to take. I
was signed up for spelling, math, and personal finance. He said I
couldn't take those classes because 1 wasn't signed up for them, even
though I had paid money and spent four horrendous hours getting
everything approved. Shirley, the lady who had helped me, wasn't
there and wouldn't be there for sometime. I got a little excited and
J im passed me on to Becky, who said the same thing J im had said. By
this time I was really in a state and my voice was rising, and I could
feel myself losing control. She passed me on to Carol who said the
same thing that Jim and Becky had said. Carol said we could check
with Shirley later and went on to say, "In the meantime, why don't
you take a math test?" Of course. The whole day had been absolute
horror, why not continue the process? I told her I had already had a
math test when I took my placement tests. I even had my score. No
matter, she wanted me to take a math test If everything had gone
well that day, I would have been terrified at the thought of a math
test. When I realized I wasn't going to win this encounter, I decided
to take the test. It's always a good idea to give in when you know you
can't win. I took the test and she got me started on the work. Not that
SN: OL0055
I could see or compute, but I pretended until it was time for my next
class.
I went to class, and they had already started. I had looked at my
schedule wrong. I was hysterical. The only seats available were two in
the very front row. I would have had to go in front of the teacher
while she was lecturing and ask everyone in the row to move out so I
could get to the chair. I started to Cry. I know I couldn't go back to
the lab and ask for help because I couldn't talk without crying, and I
don't even cry in front of my own family, let alone in front of a
stranger. Besides, if I opened my mouth nothing but a squeek and a
sob would come out. I needed a restroom. I could cry in a restroom.
The only one I knew of was over in the main building. It was full!
I had a choice now. I could go into the cafateria and eat until I
didn't care about school or the money I had paid to enroll. Or I
could go to the counseling department and get them to fix
everything. I chose the counseling department. I told the lady
that I was late for class and didn't know what to do. She said go
into the class and talk to the teacher afterwards. I told her I
couldn't go into class late. She looked up at me and said, "O.K.,"
and then went back to her work. I just stood there. Finally, it
dawned on me: Welcome to the adult world. Sue.
I walked back to the classroom, very slowly, hoping the class
would be over before I got there. It wasn't Now there were two
people sitting on the side and I could see chairs at the back of
the room. I was glad 1 had worn neutral clothing so I wouldn't
call attention to myself. I processed two things before I could
force myself to go into that class. First, in the six years of school I
have ahead of me, I will probably be late for class again. I might
as well practice with this class. And second, I thought, what is the
worse thing that can happen to me? If only I had known. I went
into the classroom, smiled, and tried to get a chair from the back
of the room. It was caught and scraped the full length of the
back wall. All this while the teacher was trying to teach. My face
turned bright purple. After I sat dqwn, the teacher talked about
how inconsiderate and unacceptable it was to come into class
late, and it wouldn't be tolerated during the rest of the term. By
then I was so over-stressed it took me two days before I reacted
to that statement.
I had made arrangements to meet someone for lunch because
I knew I would need to be put back together. I just didn't realize
how much reconstruction would be needed.
We ran into several older women who had gone back to school
the previous term. We sat around the table swapping horror
stories and laughing until we cried. I felt so good, almost alive
again.
By the time I got back to the lab, Shirley was there and had
everything straightened out. I stayed and worked on my math for
awhile. When I went into the restroom to take a break, 1 got lock­
ed in the stall. The bar that locks the door was bent and wouldn't
lift up. There was no way I could climb over the top, and I wasn't
about to crawl under the door on that filthy floor. I could see the
door opened outward. I figured that with my size, and the kind of
day it had been, I could break down the door and never visit that
restroom again in my lifetime. I waited until no one else was
there. I pushed on the door and the latch came up. I was free. I
went back to the lab, got my books, and left.
When my family found me that evening, I was staring into the T.V.
I have no idea how long I was there or what I was watching.