What I Thought I Could Not Grasp

Written Feb. 28, 2008

When I took that step out of the car, looking back nervously at Mom, I made one of the biggest steps of my life. One small step for Lindsey… one big step for Lindsey’s future. Mom smiled as hopefully as she could. I felt sick to my stomach. There were no magical Tums to erode my queasiness. Why did they call them “butterflies in the stomach”? They felt more like Mexican Jumping Beans.

I looked at my map of the campus and then looked up. Building 6 loomed right in front of me with its steps cascading down from the structure like a tongue. I felt like a child facing fears of a rollercoaster. Gathering some semblance of courage, I trudged up the stairs.

I’d already been there before with Dad for a preview-of-the-college day. It felt different now on my own. I tried to assume an air to match the age that I looked. People always told me I looked twenty-five. Truthfully, I was sixteen and intimated by the quick glances of disinterested college kids I passed. I just shifted my gaze and focused on my destination – the Testing Center.

Don’t misunderstand, I am not anti-social. Quite the reverse, actually.  But I acquired a horrible phobia. Agoraphobia – a fear of going new places. Well, perhaps I had a sub-category of agoraphobia because I was only afraid to go new places alone.  I also had and still have anuptaphobia too, but you’ll have to look that one up yourself.

I stepped into the closed-in, stifling room and stood before the woman who would announce my fate.  “I have an appointment to take the COMPASS test.” I offered my driver’s license, which I had received two weeks prior. She led me into the glass-walled room and sat me down at a computer.  I couldn’t focus on her words. My brain swam with possibilities. Maybe I’d be completely clueless, maybe I’d enjoy it, or maybe I would flunk something, which would be a fairly new experience.

I started the test. I rubbed my face as if to iron out the tension. The questions were not as hard as I thought, thankfully. I struggled with some, mastered others. I drew a hand up to absent-mindedly chew a fingernail but stopped mid-movement, determined not to be a ninny. I had two hours to take the test. I took twenty-five minutes. I knew I’d regret rushing through, but if I had drawn it out, I’d go bonkers. I pushed ‘submit’. Inside I cried a premature “Hallelujah!”

Leaving that room was like leaving the hospital. I wanted to yell, “I’ll never return!” I was surprised when the administrator told me my results would be ready in five minutes. So soon! I didn’t know if I could handle all the excitement of the day. My scores printed out. As Cindy, for that was her name, scanned it, her eyebrows rose and dove a few times.  I groaned within. I had failed…..

“Good job! You did remarkably well for someone so young. Your reading and writing scores were well-above average. Look, a 98!” I smiled. Literacy-based questions were my strength on testing.  The math score left something to be desired, but hey, I hadn’t finished Algebra I yet.

“Since you are homeschooled, if you have your parents sign permissions, you’ll be allowed to enroll this semester.” My eyes grew wide. I felt like someone had given me the world in a golden goblet. I felt like Columbus when he landed on what he thought was India. I was a new girl when I walked out of that building. I turned back, just for a moment, to look back at Building 6. It didn’t loom in front of me; it merely stood there.

I tried to frown and act distraught, but my grin broke out when I sat in the passenger seat.  Whoops were shared between us and the new me laughed at the future that lay tantalizingly ripe in front of me.

A year after that trying day, I began my first classes at our community college. Since I started, I have lived with a sense of personal satisfaction about my choice. It gave me the confidence to pursue admittance to other colleges and to fight for a competitive internship with a huge corporation. I received admittance to two other schools and nailed the position. I just turned eighteen and I am now finishing my last semester as a Sophemore. My experience can be felt by this quote from Soren Kierkegaard, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forewards.” Never let those whispers of dreams die beneath uncertainty about your abilities. Test your limits and sit back and realize your potential!