Our 2nd semester is just one week away....

As we get ready for our second semester of college, we feel compelled to document our preparation and highlight some of the more significant adventures from our first semester (there were many) with the hope that we can help other adult students faced with the daunting prospect of returning to school.

We'd be totally lying if we said everything went smoothly and that the transition from normal people to students was painless. Afterall, other than parent/teacher conferences for our two kids, neither of us had been in a classroom since 1989, and if you discount various job supervisors, the only contact we've had with a figure of authority was our son Kory's parole officer (kidding).

Nope, we were slightly less comfortable than an Amish family shopping at Best Buy, and if a mistake could be made, we invariably made it. Take, for instance, the relatively simple process of transferring credits from Dennis's previous college to his new school. For those who don't know, credits apparently do not have an expiration date, and in this case all that was required to transfer them was a visit to the former school's Admissions Department...or so we thought.

Dennis went to the appropriate person and asked for an unofficial copy of his transcript to take to his advisor and an official copy to be sent to his new college. Easy enough, right? Ha. The attractive young lady behind the counter -- who obviously had not encountered a student of such advanced years -- informed Dennis in loud, slow words that, first of all, she couldn't release this important piece of paper and, second of all, she didn't know why. But, she said, the puzzle could apparently be solved in the college library. Do you see where this is headed?

The conversation in the library, among the quiet whispers of those engaged in higher learning (and table-top football) and dusty volumes of wisdom written by Dickens, Tolstoy, and Grisham, went something like this:

Dennis (cheerfully): The young lady in the Admissions Office told me to come here to find out why I can't pick up my transcript.

Library Police: Let's see...well, it says here that you have an overdue library book from...wait. This can't be right. 1989?

Dennis: Uh...oh yeah. I've been meaning to finish reading that. What book is that again?

Library Police: The Western Approach to Zen.

Dennis (smiling): Oh yeah...well, I guess I've become one with the book, heh heh.

Library Police (not smiling): Right. So you are aware, students who excel at this level tend to take their college obligations a bit more seriously.

Dennis (more than a little humbled): Of course you're right.

Library Police: This isn't Blockbuster Video. That book may have been important to other students who actually care about their future.

Dennis (tail between his legs): I, uh...er, what do I owe?

Library Police: Well, we cap the fine at $10, but unless you return the book, you must also pay the replacement cost of $22. Only then can we release your transcripts...

Dennis (slowly backing up): I see.

Library Police: ...which will then allow you to further your education and, with any luck, become a responsible citizen.

Dennis: I thought the lectures were reserved for the classrooms.

Library Police: What?

Dennis: I said I better get busy looking for that book.

Against all odds, the book was found and returned (seriously), and the head librarian -- who somehow remembered Dennis from his previous time at the school -- was so surprised to get the book back that he waived the outstanding fine. This is good because we are pretty sure financial aid would not cover this particular cost.

The bottom line is that we took many wrong turns on our path back to school, and feel that other returning students may be able to learn from our mistakes. In fact, after reading of our mishaps & adventures, your own journey will probably seem like child's play.