I am a 34-year-old woman with a husband, a bachelor of arts (BA) from Queen’s University, and a great job. I have a three-year-old son and a four-month-old baby girl. So what on earth am I doing taking courses at Carleton University?
The answer, on the surface, is simple. I’m here for the same reason you are — to further my career. Although I have a BA, I want to get a bachelor of arts honours (BAH), so I can eventually do a master’s degree.
But, you may ask, why didn’t I do all that before I undertook a family, a job, and all the responsibilities these entail? Well, the answer to that is a little more complicated.
Suffice to say that my academic career was curtailed unexpectedly by family obligations. It has taken several years and much effort to get to the point where I can continue my education.
Today, I have more resources than I did before. But I don’t have much free time. Last year I started in the BAH program at Carleton. My boss thought I was crazy for taking on courses when I had a young child, and refused to give me time off to attend class. I enrolled in the night class and promptly started looking for another job.
When I became pregnant last year, I was delighted. With my year-long maternity leave and some careful planning, I calculated I could take two courses and still spend lots of time with my darling children. Plus, by September my baby would be three months, which is old enough to take a bottle of pumped milk without interfering with breastfeedings.
There was just one problem — being separated from my baby while I attended classes was a harrowing prospect. I asked my professors for permission to bring her to class with me for the first few months. They very kindly agreed and, on the first day of school, I strapped my cutie pie into her baby carrier and headed off to class.
I anticipated some funny looks, but I didn’t expect how awkward I would feel. Most of the time it was girls or older women giving me warm and encouraging smiles. I liked that, but it also made me feel funny.
Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I think I still look young, and I fretted that people thought I was a young student who’d had an unplanned pregnancy.
“No, no,” I wanted to shout. “I’m a respectable, old, married woman. Really!” The first two introductory classes went fine. My baby, as I’d told my professors, is very quiet and hardly cries. Phewf!
But the first full session of class — two hours of lecture and a one hour seminar — didn’t go quite as well.
As I said, my baby hardly cries. But she did cry — once. Freaked out, I quickly exited into the hall and rocked her. She didn’t cry again. I went back into the class. A few minutes later she cried again — once. Eek! Again, exit the student mama. This happened once more and, sweating buckets, I decided to give up. That was it. Too stressful! I reluctantly decided I had to leave my little darling behind.
It’s terrible to be separated from my baby. But I do enjoy my classes, so that helps a lot. As well, the time I spend at classes and studying is valuable “me” time that takes me away from those endless household chores. It’s still tough though, and I have to constantly remind myself why this is important.
And so, as I kiss my baby’s chubby cheeks goodbye and tearfully run to catch the bus, I tell myself that I am doing this for my future. And for hers.