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Yesterday I took my first college final in 21 years. I walked out of the library with shaky hands, unsure if the tremble was from stress or from the coffee plus two energy drinks I had used to prop my eyelids open. Probably both. Either way, I did it. One semester down. I wanted to share what this looked like in real life, because from the outside it can sound tidy, and it was anything but.
A quick rewind for anyone new here. In 2003 to 2004 I studied at Cleveland State University through my high school program. A little later I got into Brooklyn College’s Honors Program for gifted education, full scholarship and all, and chose to move abroad instead to build the life I have now. For years I believed a degree would not change the work I love, teaching foraging and running this blog, so I shelved the idea. Then my body started shouting instead of whispering. Teaching in the field took too much out of me, recovery stretched longer and longer, and I had to think hard about how I would support myself when my kids are older. Therapy also changed me. I learned skills that help in crisis, taught DBT tools in groups, and people kept telling me I was good at it. My therapist said I would make a wonderful therapist. All that inspired me. I wanted to help people in the same way that others helped me.
I researched what it takes to become a therapist here. Clinical psychology is a beautiful path, but it takes about ten years before you can practice. Clinical social work is shorter and fits how I want to help. I found an online university with open admissions, where strong grades can let me transfer to a competitive local program. So that is the plan. Start here, keep my GPA high, transfer into social work, and continue on to the master’s.
My first class was Introduction to Social Psychology, which turned out to be genuinely interesting. We covered a wide range of thinkers and philosophers, and I kept having those little lightbulb moments where a theory suddenly explains something you have seen a hundred times. I was an active participant and everyone got to know who Penny was.
The whole course was taught in the local language, which was a challenge on top of everything else. I understood almost everything, and when I did not, I asked the teacher in the Zoom chat and she clarified. The course was very text based, like very. Each week there were between 30 and 70 pages of readings, all in the local language. Finding the time and the brain for that much reading was its own job. I used a program to translate every chapter into English so I could actually absorb it. I missed two classes along the way, but because the course was online and recorded I could catch up without panicking.
And then, mid semester, life piled on. Summer break meant kids at home, routine out the window, and a lot of “Mom, can we go somewhere” requests. Add medical appointments, long drives to specialists, pain flares, physical therapy, urgent care, and the regular house stuff that never stops. Sleep was not my friend. Some days even sitting up to type felt impossible, which is a problem when your work involves writing posts and answering emails. The blog slowed. Dinners got very simple. My stress climbed. My kids complained. I kept going with the class anyway, one page at a time, one small task at a time.
The coursework included three assignments, and we were required to submit two. I turned in the first one while I was still finding my footing and got an 85. That stung, not because 85 is bad, but because I need to keep my GPA above 90 to strengthen my transfer application. The feedback came back late, only a few days before the second assignment was due, so I decided to skip the second assignment and channel my energy into the third.
I submitted the third and waited for feedback so I could fine tune my studying for the final, and then the feedback arrived thirty minutes before the exam. Far from ideal. I got an 86, which was disappointing. The grade was broken down by sections. High points on the first section, perfect on the last, and low in the middle because I misunderstood what the question was asking in the local language. The teacher even noted that my answer did not match the prompt. Ouch. (It said something about “answer this using information from section A” and I thought it was referring to question A, but it was referring to a reading section.) Also useful information that I need to read the question better.
The final was open book, and unsupervised, which sounds friendly until you remember that the texts are not in your native language and the clock does not slow down so you can translate. And it also is much harder and takes a lot of analysis instead of memorization. We had three hours total. Translating on the fly was not an option. So I prepared in the most practical way I could think of. I pre translated every single chapter and made each one into a Word document, read everything through, and made summaries for each chapter with the important points, definitions, and theories. I did a practice exam in the same library spot I planned to use for the real test. The practice showed me something humbling. By the time I reached the second half of the final question my brain just stopped. I ended the practice early and thought, well, that is not comforting.
On exam day I tried to make rest a priority, but I had a CT in the morning which meant waking up at the ungodly hour of 5:45 am. I went to sleep very early to prepare, woke up tired anyway, and reached for coffee and two energy drinks because sometimes you do what you have to do. I set up in the quiet corner of the library, opened my notes and summaries, and took a breath.
The exam had three questions, one worth 60 points and two worth 20. My strategy was to start with the 60 pointer, since that is where most of the grade lives. By the time I carefully translated and read the prompts and finished writing the first answer, two of the three hours were gone.
One lucky break showed up right when I needed it. One of the questions was almost exactly the same structure as the third assignment I had submitted. It asked us to explain certain theories and topics, then apply them to a paragraph. The theories were the same ones I had already written about and gotten a perfect score on. I used the definitions I had polished for the assignment and then did the rest fresh. That saved me precious minutes and a lot of mental energy.
The first question felt solid. When I reached the final question I had about twenty minutes left. Not the dream scenario. I moved quickly, kept my head down, and did my best. It was rushed, yes, but I still think I got it.
When I hit submit, the shaking started. It could have been the stress, it could have been the caffeine, it was probably both. And then the worry rolled in, because so much rides on this grade. I should get the result within two weeks. If I fail or the grade is too low, I can retake the exam, but I do not know how a retake interacts with the transfer process. Waiting is its own kind of test.
The stress around this class also bled into next semester planning. I wanted to see my first assignment grade before registering, because I was afraid I would fail. By the time I finally checked, regular registration had closed. That meant I missed the scholarship window and had to pay a late fee. The cost for the next semester was scary, and that was on top of a lot of other expenses this month…
Additionally, because of signing up late, the only available classes for next semester were in person for Statistics and Social Psychology. In person classes take a lot out of me, so that tremendously increased my stress level. A friend encouraged me to call and ask for a switch due to disability. I did, and even without disability it was an option to switch within classes through the internet portal, so now I’ll be taking two online classes instead. I felt so relieved. The classes are recorded, which also helps because I will be out of the country for a few classes of the semester. I can attend from abroad or catch up later.
Going forward I plan to contact the disability center and request extended time for exams. With the language demands, my health, and the sheer volume of text, that kind of accommodation could be the difference between barely scraping by and actually showing what I know.
A few things I am taking with me from this first semester:
Preparation works. Translating the readings in advance and building summaries took ages, but when the timer started I was grateful for every line I had already unpacked.
Clarity is everything. You can understand the material and still lose points if a question is misunderstood. Asking for clarification is not a weakness, it is a strategy.
Burnout is not a moral failure. It is a signal. When I honor my limits, I stay in the game. When I pretend I do not have limits, everything falls over.
Ask for help sooner. Switching to online classes and planning accommodations took one phone call. I did not need to white knuckle it for so long. And if I’d done it earlier, I might have been able to get longer for this exam.
I would love to tie this up with a bow, but this story is still unfolding. I am proud that I stuck with a demanding, text heavy course in a second language while parenting and managing disability. I am proud that I sat for the exam after a 5:45 a.m. medical appointment and still found focus. I am also tired, anxious, and waiting.
If the grade is what I need, I will breathe, celebrate quietly, and keep going. If it is not, I will regroup and figure out the next step, even if that means a retake and more planning or finding out if I could switch to another less challenging social work program with the credits from this school. Either way, I am still on the path I chose. One class down, many to go, and I am learning how to make school fit inside the life I actually have.
Anyone go back to school as a parent? Suggestions?
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Penny Price
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