Some news...

Last fall, I registered for five classes at UD in a last-ditch effort to get my BA. Like almost every other UD semester, it was not a cake walk. (There has never been a cake walk of a UD semester in my memory. One who would peruse my transcript would very likely disagree, but each semester is set apart in time by each of the unique challenges presented before the student, and hence there is never an “easy” semester per se.) If there is any myth that anyone with a pulse and a hundred thousand dollars can get a degree from UD without a sweat, let the record show that said myth is busted.

These five classes of mine were the last obstacles before my long-awaited and anticipated undergraduate degree. Four of them needed to be retaken. Two were entirely new to me. Two were fairly easy, exciting and downright enjoyable. One was toned down to the undergraduate level in content and approach, while one was relatively erratic, going back and forth between periods and spiritualities.

When final exams arrived, my whole academic career came down to the wire. I felt that two classes came very close to holding me back. Again. I ran a mental and intellectual marathon that week, and came out with more than a hint of lethargy at the end.

And then came the waiting game.

Two weeks pass. No sign of anything from the Registrar’s Office. Another week flies, and I get a slip showing that a course grade has been adjusted. A month rushes through, and I pay the business office my dues. That was when I did not expect the expected.

Just days afterward, I get a postal redelivery slip in my inbox indicating the post office was holding a large flat. Two days and one wasted trip later, I arrive at the office, and found the return address showing “Office of the Registrar”. Upon opening, a laminated card falls out. I had all the evidence I needed to call myself the family’s first college graduate.

I felt a little giddy inside... I just spent 9 semesters at one college pursuing a rather elusive degree, and I finished my pursuit. Finally.

Naturally, I had to celebrate this. Such an achievement deserves to be celebrated, after all. So I went to Chick-fil-A.

Later that night, a good friend gave me the real deal at a posh Mexican restaurant and an ice cream parlor. The only thing that I believe would cap this off completely -- apart from the May ceremonies -- would be a night of bowling and In-N-Out goodness.