Looking back on nearly ten years of college I can’t say if I’m excited or dreading it all being over. By Joel Vaughn
Illustration by Eraj Hussain
Dropping out previewed
Well, this is when things start to wrap up. The the roadblocks that stood finish line is over the horizon, that bachelor’s degree seems like a reality, and I can tie a neat in my way when I got the little bow on nearly 10 years of college. ball rolling on college. Though 26 isn’t a notably late age to finish a bachelor’s—at least that’s what I keep reminding my guilty, uber senioritis laden conscious—I can’t help but feel weathered by nearly a decade of papers, campus involvement and too many changed majors. All of this was and is complicated by hiccups with housing, mental health and general uncertainty as to what I actually wanted from college. That’s not to say that my academic career was without direction or purpose. I can point to a through-line of pursuing some sort of creative work as a silver lining to follow as I stumbled through a hazy cloud of collegiate pursuits in art, journalism and creative writing. Ten years ago, I was a junior in high school, dreaming of enrollment in some private arts college that I was already preparing for with intro-level drawing and composition classes at the local community college. It’s too bad that I ended up dropping out of high school. I wasn’t a bad student. I consistently pulled Bs, took a handful of AP classes and although I wouldn’t have gotten into that private art program, a high school diploma and immediate acceptance to state college were likely had I stayed. Dropping out previewed the roadblocks that stood in my way when I got the ball rolling on college. I could blame it on bad mental health and family issues, but I’ll be addressing that minimally for the sake of the reader’s and my sanity. Rather, the less ethereal reason for my long road to graduation was an inability to take care of myself when I was thrust into doing so. My career as an art student was met with skepticism and disapproval from my father. To be fair, I never really bothered to clue him into what I wanted out of college, but the awkward drive home from declaring my major still plays in my head. It was the standard spiel: look for a stable career path, think about what you want to do with your future and if you can accomplish it, but
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