I applied to Algonquin College at the age of 33, with an almost 4 year old starting full-day kindergarten. What the heck was I thinking? Well, if she could barrel into school full throttle, then so could I, right? Well, I suppose we should take into consideration that it took me three years to gather enough courage to even apply for college. So many hesitations, insecurities, uncertainties and most of all fears held me down in a paralyzed state for what felt like an eternity. Would I even get accepted? An old gal like me applying for one of the most sought after programs in the school, yeah right. Don’t even mention that I hadn’t seen the inside of a classroom in more than a decade. Did I just waste my time and money to write the admission assessment tests? I thought so. I walked out of that Test Centre questioning my intelligence with a pre-determination that I blew it and I knew nothing about Canadian history, authors, writers or artists (I can recall my cousin, an elementary school teacher, reassuring me the only people who really knew all the answers to those questions are the ones applying for Canadian citizenship. Ha, imagine that). And then the most surprising thing happened. I was accepted. I got in. At first I thought they made a mistake. Maybe they took pity on me and figured I would drop out in the first semester. Or maybe, I had just earned my seat in a class of 55 that received over 800 applications. Oh. My. Lord. I was going to college.
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Shauna QuinnNo stranger to taking the road less travelled, I must admit those not so great choices made me who I am and led me to where I am right now, which happens to be exactly where I am supposed to be. Archives
July 2018
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