Well, don't worry readers. I am still alive. It's just been so busy with school, and every time I think about posting to this journal, I have a guilty conscience knowing that there is so much homework I should be doing. I think writing is something that should be enjoyed, and therefore I decided that catching up on my journal would be my reward when all of my school projects were turned in, and as of Thursday, they all were. I suppose I do have a little bit of a guilty conscience because exams start this Friday, so I should be studying. But the way I have looked at studying since elementary school, to the extreme frustration of some of my teachers, is that since it is not an assignment to be turned in, you don't really have to do it. So often, I don't. Life is too short after all to spend it cramming useless information down your throat that you will just forget after the test anyway. An assistant that I had from fifth grade through the first semester of my senior year in high school liked to say, "You either know it, or you don't." She used this saying when I was taking a math test and was spending too long on a problem that I simply didn't know how to do, and although what she probably wanted me to get from that statement is that I need to study more, math is so cumbersome for me, I didn't really know how to study for math tests, so I think the saying could apply to situations where no matter how much you study, there are simply concepts that are never going to come to you, so you might as well not beat a dead horse by studying too much. Actually in all seriousness, I probably will study for my exams this semester because the statistics class, and the research methodology class I took this semester were pretty involved, and due to the facts that college exams are worth a greater percentage of your grade in college than they were in high school, I don't want to repeat any classes, and I am fortunate to have parents willing to pay my college tuition, I want to do well on these exams. But I have a whole week to study, so for now I am going to kick back, and enjoy writing in my journal again.
There is so much I want to update you on from all that has happened to me just this semester to reflecting on my life last year at this time, when Gilbert and I were about to celebrate the successful completion of our first semester, and our first Christmas together. I knew that first semester last year would be crazy because I had so much to adjust to all at once, from college classes, to dorm life to my first guide dog. But I figured sophomore year would be a walk in the park because I would be an expert in college life. As usual, I was wrong. Between three projects that we had to work on the whole semester, and having surgery unexpectedly, a story I could not do justice without giving it an entry in and of itself, this semester has been crazy as usual. But for this entry, I want to reflect back on what I was feeling as Gilbert and I were drawing near the end of our first semester of college.
Maybe I should pick up where I left off in August and talk about life after Gilbert and I graduated from training. Unlike the sense of sadness and loss I felt after my high school graduation, when I got home from my graduation with Gilbert, there was not a trace of sadness in me, only a glorious feeling of independence and hope. I didn't even have the emotions I described just before the start of my training with Gilbert, the feeling that once I had a guide dog, I would never again be the carefree child with absolutely no responsibilities toward another living creature. On the night of my graduation, I realized that I really didn't want to go back to childhood because the end of childhood meant nothing compared to the joy of a new beginning. So shortly after getting home the night of graduation and putting Gilbert to bed with one of the dog treats the president of the program gave me in a goody bag, I was thrilled to realize that this was the first official night of our life as a working guide dog team. The next day was a honeymoon of sorts. My parents both had to work, and it was so exciting to realize that Gilbert and I had the day to ourselves. The dog trainer would not be coming. We were ready to be an independent team! After waking up that morning and doing our usual routine of taking him out and feeding him, I was overcome with the urge to go for a walk, to prove to the world that we were certified now, and ready to go out and seize the opportunities that independence could bring. However, I also knew that my parents would not want me to go for a walk on our country road when Gilbert and I were still such a new team. Actually, while I walk independently on campus, my parents still don't want me to walk on our street alone because there are a lot of idiots who think that they can speed down our street, and drive really close to the left side of the road where Gilbert and I walk. Of course, Gilbert and I were trained to move over to the grass at the side of the road when we hear a car coming, and wait there until the car was gone, but there is a hairpin curve where the view, and the sound of oncoming traffic is obscured by trees, so Gilbert and I might not notice cars coming until it was too late. Although it would be really cool to be able to walk the route to Calhoun myself, I know my parents' concerns are warranted, so I haven't protested too fiercely yet. So anyway, I certainly was not going to get this wonderful first day together off to a potentially tragic start by breaking the rules and taking Gilbert for a walk by myself. But just when I was getting disheartened that I would not get to take a walk on my first day with Gilbert since my parents got home late in the evening, I remembered a really nice neighbor friend who told me once that if I ever wanted to take a walk, just give her a call. So that is exactly what I did, and although her life is busy and she often is not home, to my great joy, she was home that day. In a matter of minutes, she came to the house, I had Gilbert harnessed up, and I was taking my first sort of independent walk without the dog trainer or my parents! The neighbor was a little bit protective by insisting that we take a different route than the one Gilbert and I had learned so that we could avoid the hairpin curve, it was still exciting, and it was the first chance I had to advocate for myself and Gilbert. The dog trainer had told me that when I take walks with other people, I should have them stand a few feet behind me rather than walking beside me so that Gilbert and I can lead the way. Anyway, it was a gorgeous sunny day, and he was not at all scared to work without the dog trainer, and as usual guided me beautifully and I found myself striking up conversation and enjoying the fresh air as though it was just another walk with a friend, not our first walk as an independent guide dog team.
After the walk, the neighbor came back to my house, and we spent a couple hours squeezing the juice out of lemons so that my mom could make lemonade. My neighbor never fails to think of something fun to do, and I had actually never squeezed lemons, so I enjoyed yet another new experience. I don't remember what I did the rest of that weekend, but I do remember that the honeymoon was short lived. That Monday, August 25, I had to begin another kind of training, learning how to use Jaws when I had grown up only knowing how to use the braille note, and a little bit about windoweyes. Since I hated windoweyes, and since I found out while visiting with the Disability Services Coordinator that the computers on campus are equipped with Jaws, my parents and I knew that it was something I needed to learn in order to be more successful in college. But with the busy summer we had due to the wedding, and preparing for Gilbert, we had forgotten to set up my training, and if I wanted to get any training over summer, the week after Gilbert's training ended was our only option. So Monday and Wednesday of that week, I had my first two lessons with Jaws, on Thursday Mom and I went to Walmart to buy supplies for the dorm, and on Friday, just one week after graduating with Gilbert, it was move-in day at the dorm for freshmen!
When my sister left home for the college dorm just before I started seventh grade, I had pictured the process of graduating to the dorm as something exciting, and I suppose it was exciting for me too. But I never really appreciated until that day how it is exciting and stressful at the same time. I think the reason it was stressful was because it would be one thing if I just had to worry about moving into the dorm and getting my closet and refrigerator organized, but two factors made it more stressful for me than it might have been for other college freshman. First, I was packing for two, myself and Gilbert, and although the stress of having to fit a lot of stuff in close quarters was reduced considerably by the fact that I had been issued a private room, there was still less space than I had at home, so my mom and Dad had to be strategic in deciding how to use the limited space efficiently, while still keeping everything easy to find. Despite our efforts, I still had to call my mom at work Saturday morning and ask where we had decided to stow the poop bags (smile), and even after a week in the dorm, I still went to Gilbert's closet first when looking for my shower supplies. Moving into the dorm was also made more stressful because of the fact that I only had four days to adjust to dorm life before school work was added to the mix. So on move-in day, I had to simultaneously think about setting up my dorm room, and making sure I was ready for school. This meant that my bed was barely made before Dad said we needed a technology guy to come and configure my braille note for the campus internet network because my computer that the state Department of Vocational Rehabilitation was supposed to have ordered in time for school to start had not arrived yet. And as if the combination of these factors did not make move-in day stressful enough, freshmen were hardly given any time to move in before we were required to go to various meetings, and orientation activities, and the time we did have kept getting interrupted constantly when an outgoing blind student who had just graduated brought a whole bunch of his friends to welcome me. My parents and I knew we should be hospitable because I wanted to have friends in college, but being social meant we had even less time to discuss how I wanted to set up my room.
The activities themselves were also stressful. One of the activities involved outdoor icebreaker games where I had to stand on the sidelines because participation would have been too stressful for both Gilbert and me. Gilbert and I were already stressed enough because when we had practiced my college routes with the dog trainer, the campus was practically empty. But now with 650 freshmen and their families on campus, Gilbert and I just couldn't stomach that much chaos yet. That, in addition to the fact that some of the meetings were held in places Gilbert and I were not yet familiar with, meant that this first day, my parents just did sighted guide with me holding Gilbert's leash. Needless to say, by the end of move-in day, I had a headache. Yet despite all of this stress, I was also excited to realize that I was actually living in a college dorm, and I know it is terrible to say this, I couldn't wait for my parents to leave. My parents decided to stay a little later than parents were supposed to because of my special circumstances. But while they were a tremendous help to me, I could also tell that they were worrying too much. After what felt like the millionth time of them making sure I knew where my clothes were, reminding me that I am in a public setting now so I can't take the dog out in my pajamas, reminding me that they would give me a wakeup call in time for me to get ready for breakfast and more meetings the next day and therefore to sleep rather than check my clock all night the way I do when I am nervous, rehashing the exact order in which I would get up, get dressed, brush my hair and teeth, take the dog out, come back, feed him, make sure I had my student identification card and cell phone, and go to breakfast, not to mention reminding me to always lock my door, and have my cell phone and poop bags with me at all times, it was all I could do to keep from shouting, "I can handle things! Could you just leave!" But when they did leave, and I had locked the door behind them, that was when I had what is to this day my favorite memory of move-in day. I had told my parents that I would go straight to bed when they left, but once they were gone, I was so filled with excitement that I was actually living in a college dorm, a phase which adults had said would be the time of my life, that I could not sleep. So what did I do? I threw myself a party. Don't worry. It wasn't too wild of a party because I don't like alcohol. But since my suite mates who would live on the other side of the wall had not arrived yet since they were older, I didn't have to worry about disturbing the peace. So I popped a Big 'n Rich album into the stereo my parents brought from home and hooked up for me, and had a dance party! It was another couple hours before I fell asleep, and I was in a deep sleep when my parents called, but oh what a wonderful night that was. To this day when I listen to Big 'n Rich, it takes me back to the thrill of that first night in a college dorm.
I often like to think of the week that followed move-in day as the golden week of my college experience because I got a small taste of all the emotions that come with college. On Saturday morning, the day after I moved in, the stress of the day before was replaced with excitement as Gilbert independently got ready for the day and walked down to the cafeteria, where I realized how easily I could gain the freshmen fifteen in no time flat if I wasn't careful, and went to more meetings and activities where I got to meet more new people. On Sunday, an older student took Gilbert and me to a nondenominational church in the area, and being that I grew up Catholic, it was really cool to try something new. But the rest of that day, and labor day, there were no visitors to my dorm room because the older students had moved in, and everyone was busy getting set up for school. There were no exciting events planned in the campus center until casino night which wouldn't start until 9:00, and I wasn't familiar enough wit campus to go anywhere except Rankin, and I knew nothing would be going on there, so I spent those days locked in my dorm room as if it was a prison cell, with nothing to do b familiarize myself with the school's website. As a result, I experienced loneliness so deep that when Mom and Dad invited me home Labor Day for burgers on the grill, the urge to be on my own that I had experienced Friday was a distant memory, and I accepted the offer. But the weirdest thing was that when I got home, even though I had only been gone three days, it felt like I had been gone for years. I didn't have a television in my dorm, and when my dad brought me dinner and took me for a walk Saturday night, he told me that Sarah Palin was John McCain's running mate, but I couldn't follow the news like I usually do. Although the burgers were delicious, I felt more like a visitor than at home. I didn't want to get too comfortable, otherwise I didn't know if I could go back to the dorm again. It was the weirdest feeling, and I'm still not sure if I am describing it right, but it was how I felt. I did go back to the dorm that night, but was so drained physically and emotionally that instead of going to another welcome week activity I had wanted to attend, I went to bed. The next day, Tuesday, one of my classes, a seminar for freshmen started at 8:00 in the morning, and I knew that would mean another stressful day, so I wanted to get plenty of sleep. Sure enough, it was.
My mom told me Monday night before she left that she would give me a wakeup call again at 6:00 Tuesday morning. At that time, I was supposed to get up, shower, get dressed, take Gilbert outside, feed him, get all of my school supplies packed, go to the dining room for breakfast and meet my mom outside the campus center at 7:30. From there, I would have plenty of time to work Gilbert to Rankin, the route we had practiced almost every day with the dog trainer. My mom would just be there to make sure I got there safely, and rescue me if any problems should arise. It turned out there were problems even before my mom got there. The problem was that unlike Saturday where there were meetings I had to go to, and I did get to breakfast, it was not as crucial to be on time as it was that day, my first day of classes, and I just could not get things done efficiently. When I wanted to shower, I couldn't find my supplies, and when I was done, I had to put everything away, something I had never done at home so that my stuff wouldn't get in the way when my suite mates needed to shower later, and putting things away, especially in an unfamiliar room takes longer than one might think. The same ritual was repeated when I had to brush my teeth and hair. Getting dressed was uneventful because I had clothes laid out the night before, but I still had to get Gilbert ready. When I took him out that morning, I was almost outside when I think I forgot the poop bag, so I had to rush back to my room and grab one, and then feeding him always takes longer in the dorm where I didn't have a nice big kitchen table to put the bowl on, while I got the water to mix in with it, so the process was much more awkward and time consuming. To make a long story short, I was supposed to be done with breakfast by 7:30, but instead I was just entering the cafeteria. I asked the lady that was helping me get my food what time it was, and when she said it was 7:30, I called my mom on my cell phone, and asked if I should just skip breakfast. I was beyond overwhelmed, and I didn't want to be late for my first college class. She assured me that I could eat a quick breakfast and we could still get to class in time, so I gobbled down breakfast, and then in my frantic attempt to get to class, I walked out the wrong door of the campus center. But somehow, I forget how with all of the stress that day, my mom found me and at 7:45, we were ready to walk to Rankin. But if you think the frustrations were over for the day and Gilbert and I had a beautiful walk to Rankin and lived happily ever after, you're wrong. That is because I successfully crossed East Avenue, but then the beautiful sidewalk to Rankin that we had trained for, and which had been completely unobstructed the day before was now completely blocked by construction trucks. It wasn't just one little truck that we could detour around for a few yards and then be right back on the sidewalk. It was such a mess that we had to find a whole new route. I actually don't remember what we did, but I think it involved cutting through another building and somehow getting to the other side that way. Long story short is that this route would be way too confusing for me to walk without someone with me, so I never got to work Gilbert with absolute independence all of the way from the dorm to Rankin until second semester.
The class itself wasn't too stressful. We met in Rankin, and then I did sighted guide with my teacher to the library where I listened to a librarian introducing freshmen to the computer resources available at the college, and did an activity emphasizing important advice for academic success in college. Then we went back to Rankin, had a brief discussion about the goals of the class, and then watched an interesting video about ! difficulties people with disabilities face in this country, a perfect fit since this class was about brain disorders. The class ended at 11:30, and I actually don't remember what else I did besides have a brief meeting with my professor for history to discuss the accommodations I would need, and go to a cookout sponsored by Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, a club I wanted to join, but still to this day have not had time to commit to. Wednesday was another day off where my mom helped me get to a convocation event, which is basically an assembly welcoming new and old students back, and formally opening the school year, but the rest of the day was more loneliness, because even when I went to the dining room for meals, the person helping me get my food would just plop me at a table, and often the people at the table already knew each other and didn't notice me, and I was still too shy back then to make dinner arrangements with the friends I had made. In fact, I still remember vividly that my parents were going out to dinner near campus, and had invited me, but I had declined hoping that I could find some friends in the dining room and be social. When I didn't find anyone I knew, and it didn't help that the dinner that night wasn't even good, I hurried back to my dorm room and cried. The next day would be the first official day of classes, so with nothing to do, I think I went to bed early.
The next morning was another episode of inefficient fumbling to get Gilbert and me ready for school, but once I got to Rankin, I didn't have to worry about going anywhere else because all of my academic classes were in that building. In my break from 10:00 to 1:00, I just stayed in Rankin all semester so I didn't have to risk getting lost. But it wasn't long before traveling became the least of my worries. Even on Thursday, I already had a chapter of reading due for Friday in English, and since I didn't have my books in braille yet, Mom took me to Denny's for dinner, and while waiting for our food read the chapter out loud to me, and then took me to the one and only official intervarsity meeting I would feel like attending that year. Friday was the same ritual of frantically getting myself ready to meet Mom for the walk to Rankin, but after class, my mom was going to take me back to the dorm, but with one look at me, she could tell I was exhausted, which I was, and strongly advised me to come home for the weekend and rest. Since I had heard that my college is a suitcase college, meaning many students go home for the weekend, I accepted this advice.
Before I continue, I should mention that Gilbert wasn't handling the dorm well either. When people came to visit my dorm room, he was joyful and friendly as usual, but when we were alone, I could tell he was depressed. I think he was lonely too, and he coped with it by going into his cage and sleeping on the dog bed, and not reacting when I tried to pet him and console him. I wanted to play with him, but there was not enough space in the room to throw a ball, and I didn't know of anywhere safe on campus for him to play off leash, so sleeping was really the only thing he could do. I think when we went home on Labor Day, he knew we would be going back soon, so he didn't get too excited. But I will never forget his reaction when we walked into the house Friday afternoon and I had unhooked his leash and harness. He actually ran several laps around the house as if he was saying, "We're home! It's so good to be home!" I think Gilbert must have sensed what I didn't realize at the time; that the week I had slept in the dorm would be the longest consecutive stretch of dorm life I would ever have. I was essentially moving home for good. It was clear that Gilbert and I preferred to be home. That nigh, I enjoyed a wonderful homecooked dinner, and then my mom went with Gilbert and me for a walk, a walk in which Gilbert guided me around a dead squirrel in the road that my mom stepped on, mistaking it for tar, reminding me again what an awesome guide dog he was (smile). It was just what we needed to relax after a stressful first week. I think Saturday, I took the day off, and on Sunday, my dad spent all afternoon reading my first ridiculously long history chapter to me. My parents were originally going to take me back to the dorm Sunday evening, but my mom said I should sleep at home, and they would drive me to school in the morning. At first I was reluctant because our family is not made up of morning people, and I was afraid I would be late. But I am so glad that I did agree to stay home in the end because we made sure to allow enough time in the morning to get ready and leave on time, and the combination of three nights in my own bed, and getting ready in the familiarity of home meant a restful, smooth start to my second week of college.
It wasn't long before a routine was established. Mom or Dad would drive me to school, and get me to Rankin, I would go to class, and they would pick me up at 1:00 when classes ended. Then we would go to lunch in the dining room simply because we had to since signing up for the dorm meant we had to buy a huge meal plan, and if we didn't use the meals, we would lose money. Some days, my parents would pack me a lunch or take me out for a quick lunch before heading to the Badger Association of the Blind for more lessons in using Jaws. Then, we would go home, where my parents could sit on much more comfortable furniture to read the assigned chapters in the books that hadn't been brailled, which often took most of the evening. Then I would e-mail assignments to my teacher since the dorm allowed me to receive e-mails through the braille note but would not let me send them for some reason, and I didn't trust the technology people on campus to help me since most likely they were not familiar with braille notes. Then I would go to bed and begin another day.
My computer did arrive at the end of September, and we decided to have it installed in the dorm thinking that once I got more settled into college life, I would be at the dorm most of the time. But this was not the case. Sometimes my parents would drop me off on a Friday night if I had a research assignment, and I would spend Saturday doing research at the dorm and they would pick me up when they got off work. I did stay on campus occasionally if there was something going on, like a journalism workshop I wanted to attend. But for the most part, you could say I was living at home, and this was made symbolically official when my parents brought my computer home so I could use it over Christmas break when the dorms were closed, and that is where my computer has resided ever since.
Despite all of the stress that the first semester of college threw my way, at this point in the semester last year, I had considered it a success. Maybe living at home meant my social life was lacking a little, but I did make one really close friend who ate lunch with me twice a week, and who came to my dorm to visit a couple times. Although I missed out on a lot of social opportunities, I was thriving academically. I was getting an A or B in all of my classes, and on one English paper, my teacher told me I had the highest grade in the class. Usually I am not one to brag about my grades, but considering all of the difficulties of first semester, I was glowing when I found this out. Academic performance is the reason why I am in school to begin with, so a limited social life was a small price to pay. Although I still had my first round of final exams of my college career ahead of me this time last year, I knew that after coming this far, the exams were just a formality. I had basically made it through my first semester of college. I had gathered through my older siblings, parents, and the meetings I went to in orientation that the first semester of college was always the hardest since college is a world away from high school. I knew that with each new semester, there would be new challenges, but I also knew that since I had handled first semester so well, I could handle anything.
