Miracle at Interurban campus
Photo by Chris Pal.
A tired, middle-aged woman juggled a confusing array of paperwork while standing in the registration area at Camosun’s Interurban campus last summer, signing her son up for college.
The woman muttered under her breath. Fate took this moment to step in.
“What was that you said?” inquired the nice lady behind the registration counter.
“Oh, I was just wishing I could sign myself up too,” said the middle-aged woman, biting her lip, immediately regretting the impulse to confide.
But Fate had her caught tight in its crosshairs and the outcome of this impromptu interview was no longer up to her.
“Well, why don’t you?” Nice Lady continued, a full partner in the game now, unaware of her part in the enormous event unfolding in front of them both.
The tired woman’s lips all but disappeared, thinned down by bitterness and irony. How futile to consider herself in terms of potential!
Upset and undecided, standing mute and beginning to list to one side—she was surprised by emerging, dim, and lovely memories of her first college experience and subsequent graphic-arts degree.
A lack of customers gave Nice Lady a chance to relax and take some time with this curious customer. She pressed with, “Well, what would you want to take?”
“I’d study Psychology and English,” the woman replied, instantly. She then seemed to fold in on herself, her whole body leaning under the weight of her responsibilities.
No longer able to engage, she collected her son’s papers and turned to go, not noticing how Fate’s accomplice had been busy on her keyboard.
“Well, why don’t you?” Nice Lady asked, without looking up. A simple question, repeated. Shaken, the older woman turned her full attention to the remark. A half-dozen reasons why not—all sounding well rehearsed—tripped off her tongue.
Undaunted and with growing amusement, each objection was effectively countered. A few delicate questions about finances, and a few flicks to the computer—money barrier disappeared.
Another round of clicking and appointments were set up with the Disability Resource Centre at Lansdowne campus where the woman’s main support would be needed.
A Handy DART application was suggested for transportation issues, and an ancient Grade 12 B+ in English was amazingly produced.
The old high-school mark meant she’d skip several prerequisite classes, which sounded good at the time. (She later realized she should have taken them to blow the dust off of the academic halls of her mind.)
Less than 20 minutes from entering the building, blinking in a startling August blue-hot sun as she prepared to wait for the next bus, the woman couldn’t believe what had just happened.
Did it show? She trudged in to that building hunched, defeated, and invisible; she strolled out a college student. A mother-warrior. A woman. Herself.
At last.
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