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.