I Forgot to Remember: A Memoir of Amnesia (27 page)

Despite all my very real doubts, though, the seed had been planted. When Jim returned from California, I tentatively asked him what he thought about me going to college. Surprisingly, he was all for it, although he agreed with my parents in thinking that Montgomery College would be a waste of my time and our money. Why didn’t I look at American University or Catholic University instead? I went online and looked at requirements for admittance, classes and majors that were offered, and various student activities at both schools. I was immediately overwhelmed, and just as quickly as I had engaged in this little thought process, I dismissed it.

But that’s the thing about seeds. If they are planted, they grow. And growing things are often hard to ignore. It wasn’t even more than a week later that I was logging onto the computer again, but
this time I was looking for information about Montgomery College. On an absolute whim, without telling anyone, I drove to the Rockville campus. I asked directions from at least a dozen people before finding the Student Services Building. I filled out an application, and while standing in line I told myself a million times that I would not be upset if they told me no. When it was my turn, I handed my application to the woman behind the counter. She looked it over, asked to see my driver’s license, typed some things into her computer, stamped some other forms and papers, and handed them all back to me. I stood there and stared at her. She asked, “Was there something else?”

“Can I go to school here?” I asked. I must have sounded like a total idiot!

“Of course you can, hon. You just need to take that green form and go take a math placement test, and that white form there allows you to take a writing placement test. The pink forms are for you to fill out and send off to get your transcripts from your previous institutions sent here to us.”

“And what if I can’t do any of the math problems on that test, or I can’t pass this writing test?” I held up the green and white papers. I was feeling suddenly very angry. Why were they already giving tests to me before I even went to one class? How stupid was that?

“They’re just
placement
tests, hon. You can’t
fail
them.”

“Oh. Do I do that now?”

“You are certainly welcome to walk over to the Campus Center. The Assessment Center is located on the lower level, and I believe they take walk-ins this time of year.”

I knew if I didn’t go right away and get this whole testing business over with, I would never return.

I was not at all shocked when nothing on the math test made
any
sense to me whatsoever. What did surprise me was the writing test, or at least the one part that I can remember, where there were series of four maybe five sentences written out. All I had to do was pick the sentence that used the most proper grammar. Since correct grammar is a blood sport in my family, I think I probably did fairly well on that one.

After taking the tests, I was directed to go and talk to Ms. Barbara Gleason, the person who oversaw the program that caters to the needs of the nontraditional student. Barbara took a look at my math score and suggested a two-week “Fast Track” math program that would be offered later that month. On the evening of June 18, 2007, I entered a classroom for essentially the first time. But even after taking this class every night for two weeks, I wasn’t able to catch up and was placed in the most basic uncredited pre-algebra class.

Barbara Gleason helped me pick out two other classes to sign up for in the fall semester, in addition to my math class. She made several suggestions, and I chose a beginning-level sociology class and a health class called Stress Management. I was on my way. And scared to death.

But I still had two months left of summer to either prepare for Montgomery College or change my mind. And what a fun summer it was going to be. I wasn’t sure what lottery Jim had won, or what bank he had robbed, but he was extremely generous with vacation time and money that summer. Who was I to question that? I thought maybe he was being especially kind to me knowing what a rough couple of months I had had since losing my job. Or maybe he
knew how nervous I was about starting school, and he thought I needed a few enjoyable distractions for a few weeks.

In August, Kassidy and I flew out to see Benjamin in California for a week. Jim had seen him in June, but we hadn’t seen him since he had left the previous December. Since he started school during the January term, he had had classes pretty much all the way through the spring and summer with no long breaks, except for these upcoming two weeks in August. I couldn’t believe he was twenty-one! He looked so great and was incredibly excited to see us! He showed us all over “his town” and gave us a personal tour of “his school.” We also hiked Runyon Canyon, went horseback riding up by the Hollywood sign, and walked up and down Sunset Boulevard and Santa Monica Boulevard. We all spent a day at a water park, as well as a beautiful day at the beach. Kassidy and I both learned a hard lesson about the Southern California sun, which is considerably more intense than it is in Maryland. We both suffered the worst sunburn of our lives. Which really wasn’t the best plan, because immediately upon returning from California, Jim, Kassidy, and I were heading to Ocean City, New Jersey, with my parents for a week at the Shore.

While Kassidy and I were away in California, Jim had been tasked with an immediate and crucial proposal order at work that was, unfortunately, about to take over his life for the next three or four weeks. He wasn’t going to be able to come with us to Ocean City after all. We were disappointed, but given our sunburned selves, I thought it might just be a blessing in disguise, and I suggested that maybe it was best if none of us went. But Jim said, “Nonsense! My work shouldn’t interfere with vacation plans for you and Kassidy. I know how much you guys have been looking forward to relaxing and spending time with your mom and dad.
Besides, at this late date, we wouldn’t be able to get our deposit back.” So it was decided that Kassidy and I would go without Jim. I felt terrible the morning we left. Jim stayed around long enough to help us pack up the car. “My bosses are going to see me and own my ass plenty over the next few weeks,” Jim said. “They’ll just have to get over me being late this morning. Especially if it means seeing off my two best girls!”

And I was so glad we ended up going. My parents, Kassidy, and I had such a terrific time that week together. We all stayed at Brown’s Nostalgia, a bed and breakfast just two blocks from the beach. Brown’s served delicious four-course breakfasts, and offered homemade cookies every afternoon. There was a huge wraparound porch with rocking chairs to relax on in the afternoons and evenings. We rented bikes and rode from one end of the boardwalk to the other each morning after breakfast before heading to the beach, where we stayed until late in the afternoon. We ate out at wonderful restaurants every evening. We people-watched, went to the movies, saw a production of
Seussical
the musical at Ocean City High School, and watched the infamous Twins Contest on the Music Pier. Kassidy and her grandpa rode rides together at the little theme parks situated along the boardwalk, and she and I both got our hair wrapped and our ears double-pierced. I talked or texted with Jim every day, and told him how very sorry I was that he was stuck at home having to work while Kassidy and I were having such fun. It didn’t seem very fair at all.

We came back from Ocean City a week before Kassidy was to start her junior year of high school. And then Jim was in the hospital the entire Labor Day weekend, with inexplicable and excruciating
stomach pain and no definitive diagnosis. He was released from the hospital that Tuesday, the day before my classes at Montgomery College were scheduled to start. That night, I sat on Kassidy’s bed and cried. I couldn’t do it. What was I thinking? What if I forgot how to read? What was I supposed to do? Despite my Fast Track class during the summer, I was certain that I was doomed to fail as a college student. I found myself asking Kassidy a million questions, like a scared kid.

“What if I don’t understand something?”

“Ask your teacher questions.”

“What am I supposed to write down? What if I don’t know the words and can’t spell them?”

“Whatever you think is important, write down . . . just sound the words out and write down whatever the teacher writes on the board. If they take the time to write something on the board, write that down in your notebook because it’s probably important.”

“What if I can’t see the board?”

“Sit up front.”

“What if I can’t find my classrooms?”

“Mom, we just went there this afternoon, and found all your classrooms. We wrote down directions to each class in your new day planner.”

“I’m not going. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Yes, Mom, you can. You’re going!”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

“Whatever you want. Be comfortable.”

“What if the classroom is too hot or too cold?”

“Take a sweatshirt, and put it on if you’re cold.”

“Should I wear it, or keep it in my backpack?”

“Why don’t you just see how you feel in the morning . . .”

The following morning, I threw up twice before leaving the house. But the important thing was that I
did
leave the house.

That first semester was incredibly difficult. I had trouble keeping up with all the required reading; I had problems deciphering the notes I took in class. I had questions, but was afraid to speak up in class or talk to the professors during their office hours. I didn’t know how to study for tests and quizzes, and I didn’t know how to write essays, let alone research papers. I spent hours at home reading assigned chapters over and over again, sometimes the same chapter ten times or more, until I could vaguely understand the ideas and concepts being explained. I battled diligently to work out math problems. Kassidy tried to help me, but part of the problem with math initially was I didn’t know my times tables very well, so I spent a lot of time (and paper) adding up numbers instead of multiplying them.

Because I was spending so much time trying to keep up with my schoolwork, a lot of my housework and my usual errands fell by the wayside. The dogs were ignored, and often didn’t get walked. Many evenings I didn’t cook dinner and Kassidy and Jim ended up having to fend for themselves. I wasn’t always able to keep up with the laundry and grocery shopping. Jim was incredibly supportive at first. He called me his “little student,” and politely listened to me yammer on and on about my classes and professors. But his supportiveness quickly wore off after a few weeks of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. And one night he lost it! “Would it be too much trouble for you to occasionally get off your fat ass and go to the store so we have something to eat in this house? Even if you choose to not eat, I need to.” Or words to that effect.

Later that week, I heard him on the phone with a surgeon. He had decided to have a surgical procedure for diverticulitis, a disease
of the colon, at the end of October, the same week as my midterms. I called my parents in tears. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go to school
and
take care of Jim and Kassidy. I had only been in school a few weeks and I was utterly defeated. I was tired and worried. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I was failing as a mother and as a wife and was failing as a student. Dad and Mom told me to settle down. Of course I couldn’t do
everything
! Why was I even trying? They told me my priority should be going to school, and they told me again how proud they were of me for trying. Then they offered to come up during the week of my midterms and help out with me, or with Kassidy, or with Jim, or the dogs.

Knowing my cavalry was coming helped relieve some of my anxiousness for the time being. But I was still nervous whenever Jim was around. I tried my hardest to be done with as much schoolwork as I could by the time he came home in the evenings. I made a point to study for just a couple of hours on the weekends. I skipped a couple days of classes in order to run errands and get the grocery shopping done. But with this new schedule of mine, I was falling further and further behind in my classes, and midterms were looming.