The College in the Woods, Part I

I do not know where I am going, so I have to go one step at a time, wherever seems right. And as I contemplated over the summer where I was to go next, I could not stop thinking of the College in the Woods. I had been there for a conference for teaching that I had to go to for my old school. I expected that the conference would be frightfully dull. But after I parked in a small parking lot entirely surrounded by trees, and walked up a steep tumbling flight of concrete steps, and completed the first announcement/opening time (which was dull), I found that the rest of the day consisted of wandering from interesting seminar to interesting seminar, finding my way between beautiful old brick buildings and along wooded paths. Gardens appeared unexpectedly in odd places. It was a rainy day, and everywhere was dim and mysterious and softly dripping leaves. Once when I came out of a seminar classroom, I saw an old bearded man wearing a gray cloak go out of the building.
The place felt like magic and fairytales. And when I thought about what I wanted to do this fall, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I decided that I would explore the idea and see how far it went. I went online to their website and signed up for a campus visit appointment. They called me back, and after some muddling about when people were available and where I should come, it wound up with me showing up at the registrar’s desk at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday morning, armed with my transcripts, to attempt to explain myself and see if they could help me.
I told my story, for the first of many times that day, to a friendly round-faced curly haired lady at the desk.
“Okay, here goes. I am twenty years old, and a year and a half ago I graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Ed with a science major – I started early. Then I went and worked at Disney World for a school year, and now I’m back and trying to figure out what I’m doing next. I don’t feel ready to move away somewhere and teach, and I still want to learn more. And there are so many things I love to do. I’m considering going back to school for a second bachelor’s degree in theatre or music, but I don’t have any money. So – I’m exploring my options.”
She gave me several instructions of where to go and who to speak with: the financial aid office, just down the hall; the school of education, in another building (no matter how many times I told her I wasn’t interested in further education classes at this point); and the music and theatre departments in yet other buildings. She also gave me the number for their office so I could call them to set up an appointment with an academic advisor after I talked to the departments, as well as a map of the campus.
I went to the financial aid office first, since it was so close, and told the thin-faced, brown haired lady at the desk,
“I am wondering what financial aid, if any, is available to someone looking to get a second bachelor’s degree.”
“You can go right in to your left and talk to Mary,” she said promptly and courteously. So I went through the door into Mary’s office.
Mary was a tallish, slender woman with short gray hair and a demeanor that was an odd combination of businesslike and grandmotherly. I repeated my query to her, and she kindly and regretfully informed me that the only financial aid available to me would be loans. She gave me a pink sheet of paper about them, and recommended that I meet with an academic advisor. I knew I wanted to do that, so I went back to the registrar’s office to ask about it. But the lady insisted that I talk to the school of education first.
Well, in fairytales, it is always a good idea to follow instructions, no matter how silly it seems (unless, of course, someone else has previously warned you not to.) So I examined the map to see how to get to the building that the school of education was in. She gave me directions for driving, but I was certainly not going to miss walking around this lovely place. I had to know whether the magic was still here. Was the magic of that day a one-time, one-moment thing, the kind of piece of dream you can never get back; you return and find it empty? Or would it still be here, waiting for me?