This year, we made back-to-school shopping a family affair. Which meant while my husband crammed four kids in a red Target cart and launched them down various aisles in an attempt to make and break new speed records, I spent two hours checking off lists over in school supply.
Four Fiskar scissors, 30 glue sticks, and 96 Ticonderoga pencils later, I thought I’d finally covered it all. But then I realized I’d forgotten someone: me.
PHOTO COURTESY STOCK.XCHNG
Because this year, I’m going back to school.
When I tell people this, I find that most adults and all kids look at me with a flabbergasted cringe that begs, “Why?”
So maybe I’m not the breadwinner around here. And I’ll concede that a Master’s degree in Professional Writing from USC may sound less lucrative than an MBA or Juris Doctorate. But I’ve been waiting for this day for twelve years.
I white-knuckled my way through the GRE, spent two months triple guessing my application essay, and begged, bribed, and pleaded four professional relationships to write a few nice words about me. So I deserve to buy something with three rings and a pocket for myself.
As I survey the bins of wide-ruled and college-ruled, I wonder what else does a student of writing need? They didn’t give me a list. I reach for a blue spiral notebook and as I hold it, it fades into another blue notebook from my past, one labeled as belonging to Jacob G...
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Cracking Up: When mom goes back to school - OC Moms - The Orange County Register
