Photos by Kristine Larsen
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Back to School at Age 50+
By Timothy Haas, October 2003
What’s it like to wrestle exams and homework all over again in pursuit of a new career, flanked by students less than half your age, while also caring for an aging parent? Find out in this compelling web-exclusive series…
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"Can I call it a senior moment?"
Theresa Statuti, a 55-year-old former director of computer security for the criminal division of the U.S. Department of Justice, laughs as she recalls her recent mini-meltdown at a community college bookstore.
"It was at the end of a busy day," she says, "and I was hot and frazzled and tired. All those labels—I just couldn't find the wretched book. I walked over to the clerk, and, heaven help me, I dumped on her.
"But this woman couldn't have been nicer. She literally took my hand and patted it and said, 'There, there, we'll find the book for you.' After she got me calmed down and I bought the book I needed, she led me to the student lounge, pulled out a chair, and said, 'I'll get you a glass of cold water, dear.' I felt two inches high when it was all over. I don't fall apart like that often, trust me."
She grins.
"I kind of hope I never see that woman again."
Finding early retirement to be not quite as fulfilling as she'd thought when she first left her high-stress government job, Theresa is joining millions of her peers this fall in an old rite made new: going back to school. People over 50 are continuing the quest for lifelong learning that they pioneered in the 1980s—some for personal growth, some to prepare for a new career, some for the first time, some for the fifth.
In this exclusive online series at AARPmagazine.org, we'll be charting the highs and lows of Theresa's educational adventure, joining her as she makes her way on three different campuses among classmates a third her age. We'll even peer over her shoulder as she taps into a huge new trend—home-based online education.
Like many boomers, Theresa is no stranger to higher ed. She entered the convent right out of high school, and after taking vows as a nun, majored in English with a minor in education. Graduating with a bachelor's in 1975, she taught high school English for three years, but then left the convent. She took a job with the Interstate Commerce Commission and moved to the Justice Department five years later, all the while attending classes to improve her skills. Promotions naturally followed.
But in 2000, she surprised her colleagues by accepting a buyout offer. "For the first week, I slept till noon," she says. "I shopped when I wanted, I got in my car and drove around, took trips, went to the theater. Everything I used to talk about at work—'When I retire …'. "
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| Theresa (back, middle) works on a class assignment with other students. |
Soon, though, the retired life started to lose its bloom. "I felt like I should be doing something worthwhile," she says. "I wanted to do something for other people, and I didn't want my brain to go to waste.
"Because I have a ton of undergraduate credits in theology, I thought for a long time about getting a master's in theological studies. But I said to myself, 'Self, you really like working with computers.' I didn't want to lose that." She found the answer in a community college catalog that was dropped into her mailbox this past spring: medical coding and reimbursement.
She was already familiar with the medical field—her two younger sisters are nurses, and as a young girl she spent three years in the hospital with rheumatic fever—but her interest in coding goes back to an operation she had six years ago that ended up costing $43,000. "Every little thing they did," she says, "every frozen cross-section, every aspirin, was listed in excruciating detail, and each entry had a number after it."
She realized that "this classification system drives the whole process. Without reimbursement, without money, nothing functions. Coders have a pretty serious role to play. And to be honest, I wanted to get my hands on one of these computer systems. I wanted to see if they could be better."
After looking at a few technical schools and another local community college, Theresa decided to attend Camden County College in southern New Jersey, near Philadelphia, which enrolls more than 18,000 full-time and part-time students on one urban and two suburban campuses. In addition to the quality of the program, she was attracted by the convenience—one of the campuses is near her suburban home—and the low price: "I was telling my niece how reasonable the tuition was, and she rolled her eyes at me and said, 'Wait till you see what the books cost!' "
The certificate program she has chosen requires 10 courses that can be finished in one calendar year or less, and Theresa is taking four classes in her first semester: Human Biology, Medical Terminology, Medical Reimbursement, and Medical Coding I. She considered signing up for an even heavier course load, but, after talking with the program's coordinator, she decided to see how well she can balance her studies with her other responsibilities, such as helping to care for her 83-year-old mother.
The registration process was painless, she says, and because she already had a college degree she wasn't required to take any placement tests. But being on campus that day gave her a taste of what the next year is going to be like. "Getting my student ID really had me tripping," she says. "I was awash in kids, and there's somebody behind me speaking Polish—I recognized it from my days in the convent. I didn't realize that Camden County, being a community college, would have international students. Here I am, waiting in line, and there are four or five women in the office, my age, and all around me, on the other side of the glass, are kids. I had a 'What am I doing here?' moment."
"Here I am, waiting in line [to register for classes], and there are four or five women in the office, my age, and all around me, on the other side of the glass, are kids. I had a 'What am I doing here?' moment."
Theresa says she had many such doubts before and after registering officially, but was usually able to deflect them as quickly as they came. There was one, though, that was hard to beat back: "Is my brain up to this? Because I'm 55, and I'm not embarrassed to admit I was a lot more intellectually nimble at 30."
Her intermittent worries weren't enough to take all the fun out of the back-to-school season, though. "I had so much fun shopping for a bookbag," she says. "I didn't want to do a briefcase—I've had enough briefcases to last me the rest of my life. But you need a bookbag and a ruler and maybe a pencil case, and three-hole-punched lined paper, and copy books for taking notes. My youngest sister asked me if I wanted a Barbie lunch pail."
Her brow arches.
"I told her what she could do with it."
The night before her first class, Medical Coding I, scheduled for Tuesday at 6 p.m., Theresa couldn't get to sleep. She was restless, second-guessing herself one minute and admonishing herself to shape up the next. "I did eventually drop off," she says, "but in the middle of the day Tuesday my stomach got kind of fluttery." But it never entered her mind not to go. "I was ready for that class. I may have been nervous, but I was ready."
So ready, in fact, that she—who hates to be late for anything—arrived a little early for class.
How early?
There's a sheepish pause. "Five o'clock. And the door was locked! But two minutes later someone else came along."
As she waited, other students arrived in ones and twos. By the time a security guard came to let them in, a few minutes before 6, there were 25 people hovering near the classroom entrance. Some were chatting, trying to work off their apprehension; others, like Theresa, stood quietly, eyes on the doorway. There was no sign yet of the professor, but once the door was flung open, the students quickly filed through and started to take their seats. After hanging back for just a moment, Theresa straightened up, took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold.
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