Being Back

The hustle and bustle of college students of various ages return for Spring Semester. Students get to campus and the parking lot is full. Frustration begins as those who could find the perfect spot. Sometimes it happens when a student is running late but even on time this is happening. As each student gets out of their vehicles they realize the weather. Should you have worn that? You get inside one of the buildings and see the long lines. Lines for financial aid, bursars office, and registration. Lines in the cafeteria can be long at certain times. The worse lines begin with the bookstore. You wait and wait the first week of campus. You go to one line for your class books and another line for you to pay. Decisions made when paying. Figuring the cheapest way to get your books is ideal! While you wait in lines you see so much in the college bookstore. Oh I am gonna need more notebooks, pencils, folders, and three ring binders for loose leaf class books. Figure out what your scholarship and financial aid covers. It can seem overwhelming but pace yourself.

As you enter your classes anxiety can come. Just take a deep breath and say to yourself, “I am okay.”

Community Colleges have so much you can explore. The wide range of classes to decide your career if needed. The variety of people is so unique you begin to enjoy. You are able to talk to your Professors and email them for anything.

Beginning at a Community College is beneficial for finances. Classes are smaller and easy to learn from them. There is a wide range of activities and clubs to enjoy. Getting an Associates Degree is a great choice. Whether you transfer or not. There is so much range of what you can do after high school is fabulous! the variety of aged people attending Community Colleges helps each and every person. You learn from others.

I believe a person can learn something new everyday.


Rural Realities of Repealing the ACA

The Rural Resistance

My husband woke me on election morning, flipping on the hallway light and walking into the living room where I’d been sleeping.

“What time it is?” He didn’t answer as I fumbled for my glasses.

Later, I’d find out it was 2 o’clock. Our alarm goes off just after 4 am.

He sat down next to me, cradling one hand with the other. “I think I may have fucked us over with good intentions.”

It was not a white male premonition for how the election would end twenty-four hours later. He’d gone outside around 9 o’clock to transfer that day’s yogurt making from incubation to refrigeration and passed the barn’s wide-open garage door on his way back to our trailer. I have a moderate case of Raynaud’s Disease, which causes the blood supply to my fingers to decrease, particularly on chilly, drafty mornings. He’d decided to close the garage door…

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