Dear reader,

Did I ever tell you why I call myself the perpetually learning mom?  Well, there is not a day I do not find myself looking up the meaning of a word or who a particular person is or how I can fix something.  Today we have the great luxury of what seems like an endless source of information at our fingertips so why not use it.  I can try to recreate any recipe I find or learn any new hobby that looks remotely fun.  I have also taken different classes throughout the years of whatever subject I want to learn about; psychology, art, biology, it really does not matter what it is if I want to learn about it.  And reading, reading is amazing.  A book can take me to places I can only dream of.  Books can evoke feelings I did not know I had hidden inside, forcing me to process them and learn to accept it all.  A good article can take us a short fun ride too.  Those can also send us on an enlightening ride that can propel us to begin a journey of discovery and activism.  Knowledge is the key to experiences, is that not why we are life?

As a mom I have encouraged my children to find the answers to their questions whatever way they can, and to not take the easy answer as fact until they look deep enough.  For them, the internet is almost a physical part of who they are, it is now an integral part of life, so why not embrace it?  I am proud of who they are becoming and can only pray that information will continue to set them free and let them fly in whatever direction they chose.

Now I am on a new journey to get my formal education… lol, the coveted degree!  I embarked on this journey to finish what I had started two decades ago, before I was mommy, before The Very Hungry Caterpillar stole my heart, literature was always there.  I knew I would do it eventually, I just did not realize it would be this hard.  And all the tears? those surprised me the most.  You see, I enjoy school and have always done well in it.  Education was a constant, formally, or not, so I imagined it would work out as it always did.  I was wrong. 

About eight years ago during our car ride to school one morning my then seven-year-old son asked me if I went to college to which I responded that yes, I had, though I had not finished or gotten my degree.  My daughter, who was ten-years-old at the time looked at me very seriously and asked “why? Why didn’t you finish?” I was faced with a one of those moments that as a mom I had to act fast, say the right thing and seize the moment and engage in an important conversation.  But those kids are too sharp.  They grilled me.  By the time we reached the school, and we said our “have a great day” and I drove away armed with the “you have to do it mom, you have to finish” that only an optimistic seven-year-old could pack, so I made a plan. 

My first semester at Lehman was a balm to my soul, it began to heal it and to build me up.  I decided to go for nursing as I enjoyed biology and was obsessed with labor and delivery.  So I set out to take the prerequisite classes along with some core courses needed for graduation.  English was always there, in the background, stroking my head and cheering me on.  And did I need some cheering!  At times I struggle to keep up with the classes and the workload, but I kept going, until I came to a halt.  I was finishing my prerequisites and I needed to apply to a nursing program, only I did not feel so sure anymore as I found myself struggling with the work.  That, and I was a divorced mom of three who could not afford to quit her 9-to-5 full time job and do clinicals.  I broke.  I had been in love with the idea of becoming a nurse, I had promised my children that I would follow my dream and stick to it, but there I was, failing.  I had sunk deep into a dark hole when I began to think that maybe I waited too long, maybe I missed the opportunity.  I did not know what to do, so I continue with my classes, hoping deep down that I could find a way, but for the first time in my life doubting there ever would be.  For one entire week I cried whenever I was alone.  I know, I can be so dramatic sometimes.  Turns out that right next to me during one of my lab classes sat another student facing the same exact dilemma I was, only she was coming out of the hole and finding her way.  English, she had always been good at English, so why not?  English, reading, writing, how come I never thought about it?  I love English, I just thought it was part of me, not something I can major in.  It was hard to pull the trigger and make the switch.  It was so hard to put aside a long-time dream to follow a new dream, a very possible and fulfilling new dream.  I cried again, only this time it was liberating, and those tears were full of hope.  Silly dramatic me. 

Today I am a senior working towards my degree in English with a concentration in creative writing.  I am excited.  I can always go back and apply to nursing school, but I do not need to anymore.  I am happy.  I want to work with children in literature.  I want to watch them learn and travel through pages and pages of adventure.  I want to help those who struggle to read find their way with pages too.  I want to write children’s books, books about growth and acceptance, books about identity, books about the diversity that is all around us.  That is where my plan has taken me, and I am ready.