Thursday night a thick envelope arrived in the mail that was the culmination of a lot of hard work. I received an acceptance letter from a local university's Masters of Teaching program. I will start classes this summer and after an intense 15 months I will have a Masters degree and my teaching credential. I am excited and nervous. This is going to be a big change.
This feels like having another baby (without as much physical discomfort). I started working on my application in September. Even though I wanted this and took all the necessary steps to make it happen, there are still times when I wonder: Why did I decide to go back to school? It reminds me of being pregnant. With each of my 3 children there were moments when I wondered: Why did I think it was a good idea to have this baby?
When I had kids, I realized being pregnant was the easy part. You suffer through your nine months. Then you are handed a baby. Inside your body, that baby was warm and snuggly, fed through a tube, and diapers were not an issue. When that baby is placed in your arms it needs food and changing, cries a lot, and doesn't sleep. Pregnancy had nothing on this new phase of life. If you thought creating life was hard work, it does not compare to keeping this new baby healthy, happy, and safe.
Much like being pregnant, applying to school was the easy part. Sure, studying for the GRE was tough. I spent a lot of hours practicing too much math. And collecting all the necessary paperwork and writing essays was a chore. But I know that is nothing compared to the amount of work I will have to deal with when I actually begin classes. I will somehow have to go to class, care for 3 kids, feed my family, and find time to study. Ack! (Maybe I can pawn the "feed my family" business off on Michael or Subway.)
In spite of all the inevitable changes, I am thankful I have the opportunity, time, energy, and resources to go back to school. I know that laboring through this new stage of life will be far less physically uncomfortable than birthing my actual children. And once again, I am hopelessly optimistic about this new change; like when I was pregnant and people would try to tell me how difficult having a baby was and I would smile and nod and think "It can't really be that hard, can it?"