NOTE: The Montage is pleased to present a personal narrative by Patricia Tessler, a 72-year old STLCC student enrolled in continuing education courses.
On a bright September morning, the once-familiar sea of cars in the parking lot at Meramec Community College had been transformed into a desert of Cahokia dirt mounds. At the entrance, the sign warned: “DO NOT ENTER. UNDER CONSTRUCTION.”
Plans to appear studious and on time for my first class in 25 years went down the drain as I nervously drove to a second parking lot (now thinking I would be marked tardy). Reliance on GPS had dulled my natural navigational skills, so I flagged down an elderly gentleman just getting out of his old Toyota, carrying pottery and clay figures.
“Excuse me. I’m trying to find the Science West Building, and I’m late for class. Are you familiar with the campus?” I asked.
“I’m not sure where that building is, but hop in, and we’ll go find it,” he said.
Under normal circumstances, I would never have accepted such an offer from a stranger, but I was desperate, and the gentleman was as vintage as his car. Jumping into the passenger seat, I was immediately transported back to the past by the roll-down window handles and the static guitar music from the cassette on the dashboard. All I needed were my embroidered bell-bottom jeans, and we’d make quite the 1970s couple.
A few zigzag detours around the school’s construction zones allowed Frank time to talk about his near-genius grandchildren and his passion for taking pottery classes. Meanwhile, we had no luck finding the building until we stopped a campus security officer, who gave us perfect directions.
Checking my watch, I thanked Frank as he pulled up to the walkway, expressed my eternal gratitude, and said I’d be on my way. But being ‘old school,’ Frank insisted on escorting me to my classroom while carrying my notebook and laptop.
“Well, okay,” I said. There was no time to argue, though I, like a high school girl, didn’t want my classmates to get the wrong impression that Frank and I were a couple.
We went down a hallway lined with rock and fossil displays, tempting us to stop and look.
Instead, we climbed a flight of stairs to room 108, and I was relieved to see the sign on the door:
“WELCOME TO FREELANCE WRITING FOR FUN AND PROFIT
Instructor, Charlene Oldham.”
Frank handed me my materials at the door, and we wished each other good luck in our second careers. Mrs. Oldham and the students introduced themselves after I apologized for being late. No one seemed judgmental, including Mrs. Oldham, who later suggested I call her Charlene. I breathed easier as I listened to several younger classmates talk about their professions: a pattern maker for women’s clothing, a realtor and a sports writer. A variety of personalities and expertise filled the room, all with the same desire to write articles about their particular interests.
I set up my new contemporary Windows 11 laptop and opened my notebook, quickly filling the blank page with Charlene’s words, pushing me into new territory and wishing to extend the four-hour morning into a full day. We studied the stacks of magazines and books on publishing that Charlene had brought into class and examined interesting articles, including their text features. Later, we visited certain websites and read blogs by famous writers, including several of Charlene’s published articles. I realized MCC had provided us with a top-notch teacher who was also an experienced writer.
At the end of class, Charlene assigned us to write an article for a specific publication and bring it to class the following week. Before returning to my car, I took a self-guided tour of the first-floor rock collection. Some stones were exquisite aqua, others smooth and gray with embedded crystals; all had survived prehistoric ocean waters and terrain. I meandered down a hall to an art exhibition, stopping every few steps to view students’ artwork on the walls. The scent of oil paint and clay drifted from the classrooms, where students were bringing creativity to its highest level.
An idea for Charlene’s assignment flashed into my head, and I didn’t have to go far, since the story had taken shape right here in these halls. I would write about how a high-achieving school reaches out not just to the young and hip but also to the old and hippy. We are all students who share creativity, a zest for learning and an appreciation for detours that lead to perfect destinations.
