robida

This thread is breath-taking, and I would like to share my story with the ones who added their's hereby: For many people of my generation native from my small village ofPalmarin in Senegal, unlike Henry Adams, education has never been the pursuit of the “ideal ofsocial respect”. We were the first ones who; within our respective families, would have hadthe great opportunity of benefiting from the legacy of the French educationalsystem. In fact, as a result of what we called “independence”, that school thatwas previously devoted only to the “assimilatednationals”, was now accessible to the “indigenous” that we were. At term, Iachieved a two-fold objective in gaining the utilitarian skills to hold aliving occupation, and in internalizing the ideal qualities of my own culture. A decade ago, in August 2000, I arrived in New York City from Senegal West Africa with the thought that Ihave made a rational assessment ofthe comparative opportunities and prospects between my homeland, and a foreigndestination. In the pursuit of that intuitive opportunity, my confidence tobuild a better life stemmed from the previous professional experience that I have had accumulated while working for the US diplomatic mission in Senegal. I was wrong.My then, Senegalese formal education was not sustaining the unquestionablepractical credentials that I claimed to holding. Considering the inescapable existentialconcerns, I could have chose the easiest side and contend myself with what wasavailable. Instead, I decided to confront the educational challenge. The problem with that was that in an American perspective, I was too old for the level that the system judged I should have restarted. At first, I was disappointed and the struggle with the inescapableexistential concerns could have thrown me off track toward my objective. I resisted following the easy side of thesituation, adjusted my aspirations to what was presently at my reach, anddecided to confront the educational challenge that would further support my expectations. During my undergraduate bound, I have always been one of if not the oldest of the class. In addition, I sought, and went on two study abroad programs. On the first one, I spent a semester long living, and going to school with not only people sometimes 10 years under my age, but also all ethnically different than me. For the second one, everyone questioned my choice to going in a European country where I will be ethnically disadvantaged (I am black of course). Personally, none of these considerations have never been mine. At no time did I feel the difference of age with my classmates, or the color of my skin. I managed not to have a generational conflict, or an ethnic one by focusing on why I wanted to be there. I really enjoyed being around people that could benefit from my difference, and from whom I received so much. Now I applied to a graduate school to pursue a Master. I have been admitted for the fall 2010. After I attended the admitted student day, I have a pretty good impression that I will be in the same situation than when I was in my undergraduate (average age there is 27). I always hate to hear people talking about age, and I do not usually ask people for their age. During self-introduction, I befriended with two prospective students who told me that they where respectively 42, and 37. I was obliged then to disclose my age which is now 49. We all laughed at ourselves and decided that if all three will be attending, then we ought to form a club of the aged ones.