I got a degree in English, back in the 1990s. I thought about going to grad school, but I decided I didn’t need to go to grad school to become a novelist. I was going to live, dammit and write insightful, arty farty books. Instead, I drifted around in a post-collegiate fugue, making ridiculous choices. I never finished that novel. Instead, I worked for years in a soul sucking job, which didn’t even pay me well.
So, after I turned thirty, I said, “Screw this, what do you want to do?” And apparently, the answer was being a French scholar (and professor), with an emphasis in Linguistics. The problem? I had 6 college credits in French. Not enough to get into a decent graduate program. So, I’ve gone back to get a second undergraduate degree. Due to my previous college career, I came to the table with a boatload of credits, making me a senior. And I have at least a decade on most of my fellow students. So, that makes me The Senior Senior.