seeing me and julio down by the schoolyard.

On Wednesday evening, I ventured back into the classroom for my first real class in over a year – and for my first class in the Women’s and Gender Studies program. It took some doing to get there, and I hit a few obstacles (no financial aid? the only surefire way I know to come up with $1100 in about 4 days is illegal, and gross; $65 to park on the street for a semester? Ouch.), but I did make it, finally, to the class.

This semester, I’m taking Knowledge and Power: Issues in Women’s Leadership. It’s a good start: a low-level discussion class with not too much theory (which is good, because I haven’t taken the theory classes yet). Most of our reading is online, although I’m currently printing it all because I’m nerdy like that. Our textbook is a graphic novel – this graphic novel, in fact. My professor will likely be interesting – a young Asian grad student, she appears equal parts hard-ass, hip and shy.

The class demographic is young and female. There are about 18 young women in the class, and it seems to be a good mix of Hispanic, Asian, white and black women. It’s nice to have some diversity.

Mostly I’m excited. But a big part of me is nervous. This isn’t poetry anymore, which I can critique in my sleep. This isn’t a world of words anymore, where all we focus on is how to make pretty pictures with letters. I’m venturing into really new territory, and there’s every possibility that I might actually fail.

But I’m determined to work at it.